"Depends on how ready they are to fly," Uncle Virge said. "Ten minutes, maybe fifteen. Twenty if you feel especially lucky today."
"I don't," Jack said, running some quick estimates through his mind. If he hurried, and if there was no opposition along the way, five minutes ought to get him to Neverlin's shuttle. Another five to run his sewer-rat program on the computer and get it started...
"I might be able to blast open the gate from out here," Uncle Virge suggested doubtfully.
"Don't even try," Jack warned. "They're bound to be ready for something like that."
"What do you want me to do, then?"
"Might as well keep those Brummgas pinned down as long as you can," Jack told him. "But the minute those fighters show up, take off."
"Take off where?" Uncle Virge demanded. "Jack, lad—"
"The frame of life is rigid," Draycos spoke up. "The time of life defined."
There was a short pause. "Understood," Uncle Virge said. "Watch yourself, lad."
He clicked off. "What was that?" Jack asked Draycos as he turned off the comm clip from his end. "More of your K'da poetry code?"
"Yes," Draycos said. "It is part of a saga about the siege of Colthin. In that action, the attackers continued to circle the fortress, evading the defenders'
weapons and gradually running them out of ammunition."
"Not exactly the situation here," Jack grunted. "But close enough. I guess."
"The point is that he will remain in the area, and merely evade the fighters'
attacks," Draycos said.
"That's the theory, anyway," Jack said, breaking into a run again. "Okay, here's the plan. We get back to the group, tell them to follow, then hoof it full-speed to Neverlin's shuttle."
"And then?"
Jack shook his head. "We'll figure something out."
He caught up with the rest of the escaping slaves, delivered his instructions to a reluctant and increasingly nervous-looking Maerlynn, and continued on ahead of them. Two minutes later, he was crouched beside an incredibly ugly sculpture at the edge of the landing area.
And there was still no response from inside the mansion. It was as if the Brummgas had completely missed what was happening, or were huddling deep inside their stone fortress, trembling with fear.
Or were simply waiting patiently for the slaves to walk into their trap.
"Well, there it is," Jack muttered to Draycos as he studied the shuttle squatting fifty yards away. It was a fancy one, all right—not much smaller than the Essenay, all steel and molded high-strength plastic and hand-polished chrome, with quadruple drive engines and at least that many lifter panels. Apparently, Neverlin was one of those who believed that the more backup systems, the better.
Or maybe he just liked loading his vehicles with expensive extras. In the shadows under the shuttle, Jack could see a set of fold-in, heavy-duty landing skids, the kind that guaranteed landings so soft that Neverlin wouldn't spill even a drop of whatever drink he was holding at the time. "Nice-looking parlor," he murmured.
"Pardon?"
"Literary reference," Jack told him. " 'Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly.' I don't suppose there's any way for you to tell if they're waiting inside." He snorted. "Let me rephrase that. Is there any way for you to tell how many of them are waiting inside?"
"I am sorry," Draycos said regretfully. "I can smell Brummgan scent, certainly.
But the wind has faded, and I cannot identify any direction for the odors."
Jack rubbed his chin. "Let's do a numbers game, then. Uncle Virge said he had twenty-five of Gazen's troops pinned down, at least until they can sneak their way around to the gate. How many did you take out clearing the path for us?"
"Fifteen."
"Making forty in all," Jack said. "Fleck's top estimate was that Gazen had seventy armed thugs. Figure at least six more in those hidden guard huts between the house and the gate, plus another ten inside the house to protect the Chookoock family in case we take it into our heads to charge the place. Any of those figures sound too high?"
"Possibly even a bit low," the dragon said slowly. "With an attack coming from a
ship as well-armed as the Essenay, and with the gate the only clear way inside, I would post at least ten guards along that approach."
"Especially since they have no way of knowing if we have other backup waiting outside," Jack said, nodding.
"Correct," Draycos said. "In addition, with a slave of your skills and reputation on the loose, I would leave at least fifteen to protect the Chookoock family."
"I'll take that as a compliment," Jack said dryly. "Which leaves only five Brummgas to make direct trouble for us. If we instead go with my numbers, we could end up with as many as fourteen."
"Either way, those are not very good odds," Draycos pointed out.
"Either way, those are lousy odds," Jack countered. "But there's not much we can do about it. We need that ship to get out of here."
"You have a plan, then?"
"I'm working on it," Jack said, trying to sound confident. "But there's nothing to be gained by hanging around out here."
Jack straightened up from his crouch; hesitated. "By the way," he said. "I don't think that you—I mean if it is a trap—"
"I will most likely not be able to keep my existence a secret any longer,"
Draycos finished calmly. "Yes, I know."
"Maybe we should try something else," Jack offered, though at the moment he couldn't imagine what that something else would be. "Surrender to Neverlin, maybe, and figure on escaping once we're out of here."
"They will not let you leave without putting poison into your body," Draycos reminded him. "And even if we found a way to avoid that, the slaves we lead would have to remain."
Jack sighed. "You're right."
"Do not be discouraged, Jack," Draycos said. "Even the most precious secret must sometimes give way to a higher purpose. A true warrior must learn when and how to make sacrifices. This is a gamble worth taking."
"Okay." Jack took a deep breath. "Let's do it."
He half expected Gazen to spring the trap while he was still outside the shuttle, on open ground with nowhere to hide. But he made it to the hatchway without anything happening.
For a moment he crouched beside the entry ramp, catching his breath and peering inside. Unlike the military transports of this size he'd flown in, Neverlin's shuttle seemed to be built along the same lines as a miniature spaceship.
Instead of opening into a single large cabin, the hatchway led into a small entry/airlock chamber, with another door leading out of the entryway into the main body of the shuttle. Bracing himself, he went up the ramp.
The trap wasn't waiting in the entry chamber. It wasn't waiting in the corridor that led out of it, either. Jack headed forward through the gloom of the ship's nightlights, listening to his own footsteps whiffing softly through the thick carpet. Could he have been wrong about Gazen's strategy? Could the slavemaster really have missed such an obvious bet?
A few yards ahead the corridor opened into a larger cabin, furnished with three rows of well-spaced, comfy-looking seats. First class all the way. Stepping inside, he continued forward.
And as he reached the middle of the room, it abruptly lit up like a Sirian noon.
CHAPTER 34
Jack threw his arm up to protect his eyes from the light. But even before the arm was in position, his wrist was grabbed and twisted roughly behind his back.
"I told you he couldn't resist the temptation," Neverlin's smooth, snake-like voice came over the scuffling noises of heavy feet suddenly on the move. More hands grabbed at Jack's arms and shoulders, pinning them in place. Bodies smelling like sweaty Brummga pressed against him from all sides, preventing him from using his feet to either run or kick.
"And I told you," Gazen's less civilized voice retorted, "that he was working with that Tubman Group."
Cautiously, Jack eased his eyes open against the glare. Gazen and Neverlin were standing just inside the door at the far end of the cabin, with Neverlin's two bodyguards on either side of their boss. The one Draycos had clobbered earlier had a pressure bandage on his head, a scowl on his face, and a nasty-looking gun in his hand.