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.
"Don't be absurd," Neverlin scoffed. "The Tubman Group? Nonsense. Virgil Morgan and his nephew don't do charity work."
"Then how do you explain all those slaves skulking around out there?" Gazen demanded. "I tell you, he's trying to stir up a revolt."
Slowly, carefully, Jack turned his head. He got only about halfway around before one of the Brummgas noticed the movement and twisted his head to face forward again. But he'd seen enough to figure there were eight Brummgas crowding around him.
Closer to Draycos's estimate than his. Still very lousy odds.
"He just brought them to spread a little chaos in case he needed a diversion,"
Neverlin said. "As far as he's concerned, they're expendables." He cocked an eyebrow at Jack. "Or hadn't you noticed that he didn't actually bring any of them aboard with him?"
"So you don't think they're of any use as bargaining chips?" Gazen asked.
"Not a chance," Neverlin said. "Take them back to their huts, or burn them where they stand. Your choice."
Gazen nodded and reached to his collar—
"Wait," Jack said.
The instant the word was out of his mouth he wished he could call it back.
Gazen surely wouldn't simply kill Maerlynn and the others, at least not here and now.
Even if he decided their actions deserved that, he would more likely have them whipped to death as an object lesson for the rest of the slaves.
But Jack hadn't thought it through quickly enough. And now it was too late.
"Well, well," Neverlin said, smiling smugly. "So he really does have some feeling for those dirty little zeros out there, does he? This is one for the record books."
"Or else he's just squeamish," Gazen rumbled contemptuously. "You should have seen his face after those Wistawki passed him in the kitchen this morning."
"You didn't need to whip them," Jack ground out. "They didn't steal the food.
I did."
Gazen snorted. "Don't make me laugh. You were in the frying pan all night."