Dragon and Liberator

"Right," Jack muttered, and he headed toward the ruined wall. He was halfway there when he heard the flat crack of a gunshot.

He spun half-around, dropping reflexively into a crouch. Harper was still seated at the desk, with two of the Brummgas still standing over him. The aliens were waving their guns wildly, their pea-sized brains probably still trying to sort out whether they should be pointing the weapons at Jack, Harper, or the new threat that had suddenly appeared outside.

And then, as Jack watched, there was another pair of gunshots. The two remaining Brummgas jerked and toppled backward out of sight behind the desk.

It was only then that Jack saw the small gun in Harper's hand.

There was a sudden surge of weight on Jack's shoulders, and Draycos leaped out of his collar.

But Harper was faster. Instantly, he lifted both hands, pointing his gun at the ceiling. "Truce," he called.

The word was barely out of his mouth before Draycos reached him. Jack caught his breath, but the K'da hadn't missed the signs of surrender. He leaped up onto the desk but instead of delivering a killing or stunning blow merely slapped the gun out of Harper's hand with his paw.

"Jack, lad, come on!" Uncle Virge snapped. "They're scrambling pursuit fighters."

"On our way," Jack called back, starting again toward the ramp. "Come on, Draycos."

Draycos flicked his tail and hopped backward off the desk, his eyes still on Harper. "Take me with you," Harper called, his hands still in the air. "We may be on the same side."

"You've got your own shuttle coming," Jack reminded him. "You can take that one."

"With three dead Brummgas behind me?" Harper countered. "Don't be ridiculous."

Jack hesitated. Harper was probably right about that.

Question was, could Jack and Draycos trust the man? Jack looked at Draycos, but the K'da was looking back at him. Waiting for him to make the decision.

And as he gazed at those glowing green eyes, a memory popped back into Jack's mind: he and Draycos on Sunright, with Jack unwilling to go charging back into danger to rescue Alison and some of their fellow Whinyard's Edge soldiers. A warrior does that which is right, Draycos had told him. Not because he may profit from it. Because it is right.

If they left Harper here, the man was dead. Pure and simple. Either by the hand of the Brummgan legal system or by the far more personal hand of the Patri Chookoock.

And there was always a chance he and Harper were on the same side. "Come on, then," Jack told him.

Turning back to the ruined wall, he steeled himself and leaped the two feet across to the end of the ramp. Draycos was right behind him, with Harper a close third. "We're in," Jack called toward the airlock's camera/speaker/microphone module. "Close up and head to the roof."

"Right," Uncle Virge said.

"Wait a second," Harper protested as the ramp slid back into place and the outer hatch closed. He started toward Jack, stopping abruptly as Draycos stepped warningly into his path. "The roof?"

"They'll be looking for someone running," Jack called back over his shoulder as he headed for the cockpit. "So instead we go to ground."

The Essenay was already settling onto the roof beside the police station's set of big relay dishes when Jack reached the cockpit. "Hull-wrap on, everything else power crash-down," Jack ordered the computer as he slid into the pilot's seat.

"Got it," Uncle Virge said, the cockpit's lights and power indicators already winking out. "Jack, lad, bringing on another passenger—"

"Save it," Jack said. He turned as Harper came up behind him, Draycos close on his heels. "Just relax, Mr. Harper. It's under control."

He saw Harper's eyes flick to the single part of the board still showing indicators. "Chameleon hull-wrap?" he asked.

"That's right," Jack confirmed. "A very good one, too."

"It still won't fool them forever," Harper warned. "We may look like a section of roof from above, but there's no way to hide the ship's actual bulge from anyone looking straight across the rooftops at us."

"We aren't going to stay here forever," Jack assured him. "As soon as those fighters and police aircars get far enough away, we'll be making a break for it."

"And at night a sideways look isn't going to do anyone much good anyway," Uncle Virge added. "Trust me, we've done this before."

"I'll take your word for it," Harper said, glancing around. "I give up. Where are you?"

"Uncle Virgil's not actually here right now," Jack said, tensing a little as he always did whenever someone asked about his dead uncle. "He just added a personality simulation to the computer so I wouldn't get lonely when he was away."

"Interesting." Harper leaned over Jack's shoulder toward the P/S/8 designation plate on the computer-interface board. "That kind of personality simulation usually requires at least a P/S11. You must have upgraded your system somewhere along the line."