Timothy Zahn - Dragon And Soldier

He fully expected there to be another blast or two along the way. But they reached the outer door without that happening. Jack peered outside, started to step through the doorway—

And found himself yanked back inside by the claws still hooked into his sleeve as a dark aircraft roared past overhead.

Reflexively, he dropped into a crouch. "Uh-oh," he muttered.

"We are under attack," he heard Draycos's voice distantly through his slowly recovering hearing.

"No kidding, Sherlock," Jack said, looking carefully around the door jamb. In the flickering light of the burning hut, the Lynx transport he'd arrived in seemed intact. Or at least as intact as it had been when he'd left it. Beyond it...

He tensed. Beyond the Lynx, where Tango Five Zulu's borrowed Flying Turtle had been, there was nothing but a gaping crater.

"There," Draycos said, pointing a claw. "They are there."

Jack looked. In the near distance he could see the shape of the Flying Turtle scooting across the sky.

So Alison had managed to get the thing started and into the air. And not a borrowed second too soon, either, from the looks of it. "Who else is around?" he asked.

"I can hear two Shamshir fighter craft," Draycos said. "Both are in pursuit of Alison's vehicle."

"Okay," Jack said, getting back to his feet again. "Let's see if we can make it to the Lynx."

"It is damaged," Draycos reminded him.

"Would you rather walk away from poison gas?"

"Point," Draycos conceded, putting a paw on Jack's hand and slithering up his sleeve. "Let us go."

Again, they made it across the open area without drawing fire. Apparently, none of Lieutenant Cue Ball's men wanted him badly enough to stick around near the burning hut. "We're not going to get very far," he warned, glancing at the fuel reading as he dropped into the pilot's seat. "But we should at least make it to the woods."

The comm beeped. "Montana?" Alison's voice came.

Jack flipped the switch. "I'm here," he confirmed. "You all right?"

"Oh, we're just sweetness and light out here," she growled back. "Sorry, but we had to pull out. If I can shake these two birds, I'll circle back and get you."

"No, don't," Jack said. "You just stay ahead of them and head for the hills. I can get out on my own."

"But—"

And suddenly, outside the windscreen, the ground flashed with light. Jack leaned forward over the control board, trying to see what had happened.

One of the Shamshir fighters had become an airborne fireball.

Jack blinked. No. Not even Alison. Not even Alison and Jommy together, hotshot teenage mercenaries that they were, could have taken out a professional combat pilot. Could they?

And then, even as his brain tried to make sense of it, the second fighter veered away from its prey. It cut hard to the left, its guns blazing full power, and exploded into a fireball of its own.

"Jack?" a familiar voice called.

Jack felt his breath go out of him in a whoosh, his muscles going limp with relief.

He'd forgotten all about Uncle Virge.

"I'm here, Uncle Virge," he called back. "On the ground, in the Lynx near the burning hut. Leave the Flying Turtle alone—they're on our side. Anyone else in the area?"

"Looks like they've got three more fighters coming in from the south," Uncle Virge reported. "Still a few minutes away. Pretty amateurish for supposed professionals, if you want my humble opinion."

"They weren't expecting to have to fight around here," Jack said, gazing thoughtfully out the windscreen into the distance. An idea was starting to form in the back of his mind.

"I'm coming in to get you," Uncle Virge said. "Did you know that fire is putting out xancrene gas?"

"Yeah, I did, thanks," Jack said, keying on the engines. "On second thought, I'll meet you two miles west of the city."

"There's no need for that, Jack lad," Uncle Virge protested. "I wouldn't trust that flying cattle car of yours farther than I can bounce a barge. Don't worry; the xancrene is mostly blowing north."

"I wasn't worried about the xancrene," Jack told him, lifting the transport into the air. "And relax, this thing will get me far enough."

"Jack lad—"

"Look, I know what I'm doing," Jack interrupted him. "Alison? You still there?"

"Still here," she confirmed. "Thanks for the assist."

"Like I said, I have friends," Jack said. "Look, I'd ask you all aboard, but we really don't have the space. I'm afraid you'll have to find your own way off Sunright."

"That's okay," she assured him. "We'll manage."

"The Edge will be watching for you," he warned.

"Like I said, we'll manage," she said. "I have friends, too. See you."

The comm clicked off. "Yeah," Jack muttered, her last words tingling across his mind. I have friends too ...

He headed off into the night. Directly ahead, the dim lights of the mine buildings loomed against the darkness.

The mine that had sparked all this trouble in the first place. The mine that had trapped both the Agri and the Parprins into devil's bargains with greedy mercenaries. The jackpot both the Shamshir and Whinyard's Edge were playing their deadly little games for.

As Uncle Virgil would have said, it was time to take the jackpot off the table.

He lined up the transport's nose on the entrance to the main mine building. "Draycos, you said there were some grenades back there?"

"Yes," Draycos said. "Nine of them."

"I don't suppose you'd know how to rig a delay fuse on something like that."

"Explosives are not to be dealt with lightly or casually," the dragon said, his voice starting to sound suspicious. "I am not trained with these particular devices."

"Never mind, then," Jack said. "We'll do it the old-fashioned way. Can you get them out of the locker and line them up along the floor? Straight down the middle should do just fine."

Draycos's head lifted up from Jack's shoulder. "Jack, what is it you intend to do?"

Jack nodded toward the mine buildings. "The Shamshir want the mine," he said. "So do the Whinyard's Edge, if you believe Lieutenant Cue Ball. What do you suppose they'd do if the mine wasn't there anymore?"

Draycos pondered a moment. "Those who care only for its wealth would leave this world."

He twisted his head around to look squarely into Jack's eyes. "But this is not your property, Jack," he added. "You have no right to choose its destruction."

"Not even to save people caught in a war none of them want?" Jack countered. "Come on, K'da warrior, let's hear those ethics of yours. Is the wealth from a mine more important than the people who own it?"

"The people are of course more important," the dragon said, his voice oddly sad. "But there must be another way."

"There isn't," Jack said firmly. "Look, I trust you in warrior stuff. Trust me in this, okay?"

Draycos bounded from Jack's collar, landing on the deck behind him. "Very well," he said reluctantly. "If there is no other way, then let us do it."

Jack smiled tightly. The K'da poet-warrior had done his part of the job. Now it was time for the human con artist to do his. "Just line up those grenades," he said. "I'll do the rest."

The main doors were wide and tall, designed to let large ore-carrying vehicles in and out. They were also built pretty strong.

Fortunately, the Lynx was built even stronger. With a crash of breaking wood and the screech of torn metal, it broke through the doors and rumbled into the main building beyond.

"How are you doing?" Jack shouted over the crunch of demolished support beams and wall siding as he drove the Lynx inward toward the tall tower that stood over the mine opening itself.

"I am nearly ready," Draycos called back.

"Good," Jack said. "Brace yourself."

And with a final thunderous crash, he slammed the transport through the lower part of the tower and settled to the floor squarely on top of the shaft leading down into the ground.