Dragon and Liberator

Time's probably no need, Draycos said. In an emergency, the ship could be handled by a mere thirty crew members. Even in full combat mode, it would require only another hundred and fifty.

So why were there so many in your advance team?

Partly for companionship on the long journey, Draycos said. Also, part of our job was to begin preparing areas of Iota Klestis for colonization.

Which means Neverlin probably could have gotten away with fewer people aboard, Jack pointed out. Brummgas or men. All the Valahgua would have to say was that everyone else was back on Iota Klestis, digging wells or whatever.

A good point, Draycos agreed. I wonder if the fleet will wonder about that, as well.

Anything that looks odd to them works in our favor, Jack said. But whether they wonder about it or not, it definitely works in our favor right now. The more big, dumb Brummgas there are wandering the halls, the harder it'll be for any of Frost's men to spot me in the crowd. A little luck and we may just get away with this.

They had reached the center of the ship, and were passing a long room that Draycos said contained the K'da/Shontine version of the ECHO hyperdrive, when their luck ran out.

"Hey!" a human voice boomed just as Jack cleared the doorway. "You—is that Chiggers? Get in here."

"I'm busy," Jack called back in his Chiggers voice.

"You're gonna be busy mopping the deck with your face," the other retorted. "Come on; help me configure this frunging thing. We're heading out."

Jack felt his stomach tighten. They were going on ECHO now? Before Frost's raiding party even returned with their stolen Malison Bang ships? Something's wrong, he told Draycos.

I agree, the K'da replied. But we have no choice but to play it through. Open your flight suit a bit more.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," Jack called, reversing direction and heading back to the room. As he did so, he slid a finger under the sealing seam at his flight suit's neck and slid it open to just above his stomach.

The mercenary was sitting at a console halfway across the room, his right side toward the door. He was scowling down at the displays as he worked at his control board. "What's the problem?" Jack asked, glancing around as he walked toward the other. There were four Brummgas in the room, too, making little snuffling noises of concentration as they worked at their own controls.

"Whole frunging alien frunging thing is the problem," the man growled back. "We were supposed to have had a real ECHO system put in before we had to go anywhere else."

"Yeah," Jack said, forcing himself to maintain a steady stride. So far the other man hadn't actually focused on him, but the second he did it would all be over. Jack had to be within striking distance when that happened. "What do you want me to do?"

"Help me sort out this chicken scratching," the man said, flicking a finger toward a set of papers taped to the front of the console.

Almost there. "Sure," Jack said, picking up his pace a little. Almost there.

He was two steps away when the man finally looked up.

Keep going, Draycos urged.

For that first fraction of a second the man's expression went blank, his brain apparently slip-skidding like an amusement park bump car. Then, abruptly, his wheels seemed to catch traction again. His eyes widened; and as Jack closed the final step, he opened his mouth.

The warning shout never came. Through the opening in Jack's flight suit, looking for all the world like some shock-movie alien larva emerging from its reluctant host, Draycos's foreleg lanced out . . .

. . . the paw catching the man solidly around his throat.

The mercenary jerked backward, his wide eyes going even wider. Or, rather, he tried to jerk backward. But Draycos had him in a solid grip, and there was no escape.