Timothy Zahn - Dragonback 03 - Dragon And Slave

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Dragon and SlaveDRAGON AND SLAVE
Timothy Zahn
The Third Dragonback Adventure
For Pam and Barry: For their faith and trust in the midst of their own battles
CHAPTER 1
With a slight change in engine pitch, and a small ripple of vibration through
the deck, the Essenay came off the ECHO stardrive.
They had arrived at the planet Brum-a-dum.
Stretched out on his belly on the dayroom floor, Draycos hunched himself up
onto
his front paws and looked around. Over by the wall, fourteen-year-old Jack
Morgan was seated at the narrow table, his elbows on the edge, his chin
propped
up in his hands. He was peering down at the table's surface, moving his lips
silently. Concentrating on his studies, the boy had apparently missed the
fact
that the Essenay had returned to normal space.
Draycos turned his attention toward the camera/speaker/microphone setup that
allowed the ship's computer to monitor the room's activities. In the dark
lens
of the camera he caught a distorted glimpse of his own long, triangular head
and
the spiny crest starting between his glowing green eyes and extending down
his
long back. Like a dragon the size of a small tiger, Jack had said at their
first
meeting.
The description had intrigued Draycos, and he'd spent several hours over the
past two months researching the topic of dragons in the Essenay's library.
Some
of the stories he'd found had been rather flattering. Others had definitely
not
been. "Well?" he called toward the camera.
"Well what?" Uncle Virge's voice came back, sounding grumpy.
"I thought perhaps you would like to announce our arrival," Draycos said
mildly.
Jack looked up from the table. "We're here?" he asked. "Uncle Virge?"
"Yes, we're here," the computerized voice confirmed reluctantly. "Don't get
excited—I'm still scanning the area. That could take a while."
Jack threw a knowing look at Draycos. "Come on, Uncle Virge, quit stalling,"
the
boy said. "We already know where the Chookoock family estate is. Just plot us
a
landing course and take us down."
"It's not that simple, Jack lad," Uncle Virge protested. "There are airway
lanes
to be located, arrival procedures to be observed, Brummgan customs documents
to
be filed—"
"And you can do all of that with your eyes shut," Jack interrupted. "Just
take
us down, okay?"
There was an audible sigh from the speaker. Uncle Virge was a sort of ghostly
echo of Jack's Uncle Virgil, the conman and safecracker who'd raised the boy
after his parents' deaths when he was three. Before Uncle Virgil's own death
a
year ago, he'd somehow managed to implant a version of his personality into
the
Essenay's computer. With only that personality to keep him company, Jack had
continued on, taking odd shipping jobs to support himself as he flew alone
between the stars of the galaxy's Orion Arm.
Alone, that is, until Draycos, poet-warrior of the K'da, had crashed
unexpectedly into his life.
Uncle Virge didn't like Draycos. He didn't like Draycos's warrior's ethic, or
his continued presence aboard the Essenay, or the fact that he had dragged
Jack
into his private mission.
And he certainly didn't like this plan. "Jack, lad, really now, this is just
plain crazy," he said, his voice soft and earnest. "Even by my standards.
Can't
we take just a little more time to think about it? There has to be a better
way
to find these mercenaries of yours."
Jack looked back down at the tabletop, his eyes avoiding Draycos's. He was
trying hard to hide his feelings, but Draycos could see the tension in his
face.
Jack didn't like the plan any more than Uncle Virge did.
Which made it unanimous, because Draycos didn't much like it either.
But they were running out of choices. More importantly, they were running out
of
time. In four months the main fleet of K'da and Shontine refugee ships would
reach the Orion Arm after their long, weary voyage across space. Their final
goal was the uninhabited planet of Iota Klestis; but first they would be
stopping at a rendezvous point known only to the fleet and the commanders of
the
advance team.
Except that all of those advance team commanders were dead. Their ships had
been
attacked as they arrived at Iota Klestis, and everyone aboard except Draycos
had
been killed by the unstoppable Death weapon of their enemies, the Valahgua.
The
attackers had then taken control of the ships, and by now had surely
discovered
the location of the upcoming rendezvous.
All Draycos and Jack had to go on was the fact that the Valahgua had picked
up
some allies among the various human and alien beings of the Orion Arm. A
mercenary group, almost certainly, one which they already knew employed
Brummgas. If they could identify that group, they might have a chance of
locating the rendezvous point themselves before the refugees arrived.
If they couldn't, the fleet would fly straight into an ambush... and the K'da
and Shontine peoples would cease to exist.
"Maybe there is a better way, Uncle Virge," Jack said. "But I'll be stripped,
sanded, and varnished if I can come up with one."
"You could still take this to StarForce," Uncle Virge said.
"We've been through all this," Jack reminded him sourly. "StarForce, the
Internos, and every other government agency is out because we don't know who
we
can trust."
"Then how about Cornelius Braxton?" Uncle Virge persisted. "He owes you
big-time
for pulling his marshmallows out of the fire the way you did during Arthur
Neverlin's big power grab."
Jack shook his head. "You don't create a megacorporation like Braxton
Universis
without a lot of brains and a lot more ruthlessness," he pointed out.
"Grateful
or not, ten to one he'd try to twist all this to his own advantage." The
boy's
lip twitched. "Besides, I don't think Neverlin's given up, and I'd rather not
be
standing anywhere near Braxton when he makes his next move. No, for right now
it's got to be just you and me and Draycos."
"But to throw yourself into a slavemaster's lap?" Uncle Virge protested.
"What
if he doesn't go for it?"
"He will," Jack assured him. "Slavemasters are in the business for the money.
All we have to do is make sure the offer is too good to pass up."
"And if you can't get out afterward?"
"What, with my trusty K'da poet-warrior at my side?" Jack threw a strained
smile
at Draycos.
"I'm sure he'll be a big help," Uncle Virge said, his tone making it clear he
wasn't sure of that at all. "But why go in as a thief? Why not as a soldier
looking for work?"
"I've tried being a soldier," Jack said. "You saw how well it worked."
"You lived through it," Uncle Virge countered. "That says a lot."
Jack snorted. "Not really," he said. "Anyway, what do you suggest I use for
references? Ask them to get in touch with the Whinyard's Edge?"
"Besides, the Chookoock family already has many mercenaries to hire out,"
Draycos put in. "That is why we chose this particular slave dealer, after
all."
"Yes, I remember the logic, thank you," Uncle Virge said icily. "I just don't
think it's going to be easy for a slave to get into their personnel records."
"It'll be a lot easier from in there than it would be from out here," Jack
said.
"Look, it's not that big a deal. A quick flip-and-dip into their computer,
you
swoop the Essenay in, and we all fade together into the sunrise."
Uncle Virge sniffed. "You make it sound so easy."
"Easier than the job we did aboard the Star of Wonder," Jack said. "At least
here I'll have you and the Essenay on hand to back me up."
"Maybe," Uncle Virge said ominously. "Maybe not. Slavemaster estates aren't
the
easiest places in the world to break into, you know. When push comes to shove
comes to a poke in the snoot, I may not be able to do much from the outside.
In
which case, you and your K'da poet-warrior will be on your own."
"We've been on our own before," Jack reminded him. Still, Draycos could see
the
boy's throat muscles tighten a little more. "Quit stalling. Let's get to it."
Uncle Virge sighed. "If you insist," he said. "I suppose you'll want a look
at
the place before we land."
"That would be nice," Jack said dryly. "Pipe it back here, will you?"
The display screen on the dayroom wall had been showing a pleasant, peaceful
scene of a sunlit mountain pass. Now it changed to a view of a cloud-mottled,
bluish-green landscape far below. "How soon till we can see something?" Jack
asked.
"Give me a chance, Jack lad," Uncle Virge huffed. "We've only just reached
the
planet."
"Okay, okay, don't pop a port," Jack said soothingly. "I can work on this
awhile
longer."
"What help may I offer?" Draycos asked, padding across the room to Jack's
side
and looking down at the table. Jack had turned the surface transparent, and
on
the displays beneath it were rows of what looked like wiggled tracks made by
extremely startled worms.
"It's a group of common Brummgan words, written in Brummgan script," Jack
said.
"Most Orion Arm computers have automatic translators built in, so I shouldn't
have any trouble reading their data lists once I'm in. But there might be
other
stuff along the way I'll need to be able to read."
"Very likely," Draycos agreed. "How may I help?"
"That screen over there shows the translations," Jack said, pointing to the
far
end of the table. "I'll mix these up and then try to read them. You see if I
get
them right."
They went through the drill twice, with Jack missing only seven words the
first
time and four the second. By the time they were finished, the dayroom display
was showing a high-resolution image of the ground below them.
"You'll have to settle for an angled view," Uncle Virge said as the image
shifted direction a little. "We're heading for the Ponocce Regional
Spaceport,
at the southern edge of Ponocce City and about three miles from the Chookoock
estate itself. Given our current vector, it would look suspicious for us to
fly
directly over them."
"Just do the best you can," Jack said.
"Right," Uncle Virge said. "Anyway, that's it coming up on the left, pressed
right up against the eastern edge of the city. That white line there—see it?
That's the estate's outer wall."
Stretching out his long neck, Draycos studied the image scrolling slowly
across
the display. The estate was a huge one, covering nearly as much territory as
the
city alongside it. The ribbon of white that Uncle Virge had identified as the
outer wall snaked across the landscape, disappearing here and there behind
low
hills or tall bushes until it finally vanished completely behind the trees of
a
thick forest. Along with the forest, the estate also included neat rectangles
of
cropland, areas of bushy undergrowth, a rock quarry, several ponds, and a
small
river.
The wall itself was deceptively plain and simple-looking, with no signs of
guard
towers or patrolling aircraft. It was almost as if it was there just for show.
Draycos didn't believe it for a minute. Neither, obviously, did Jack. "So
what's
the story on that wall?" the boy asked.
"Some kind of hardened ceramic, looks like," Uncle Virge said. "Shape-wise,
it
seems to be a sort of X cross section. That means you have an overhang to
deal
with no matter which side you start climbing from."
"That ought to discourage casual visitors," Jack commented. "What about
non-casual ones?"
"Not sure," Uncle Virge grunted. "It looks like there may be a set of lasers
running along the groove at the top, nestled down into the center of the X
and
aiming upward. There may be some flame jets mixed in, too."
Draycos felt the tip of his tail making slow circles. Lasers and flame jets,
firing straight up out of the top of the wall. The Chookoock family was
serious
about keeping people out.
Or, perhaps, serious about keeping people in. "How many slaves do they keep
inside the estate itself?" he asked.
"Hundreds," Uncle Virge said grimly. "Humans and several other species. A lot
of
them are working the cropland and quarry, plus there's a big group in the
forest."
"Logging?" Jack asked.
"I don't know," Uncle Virge said. "Most of that batch are gathered around a
particular line of bushes. Don't know what that's all about."
"What about buildings?" Jack asked.
"There are several." On the display, a red rectangle appeared, outlining a
group
of brown-and-green-speckled buildings that blended smoothly into their
surroundings. "The long buildings here and here are probably slave quarters,"
Uncle Virge said, marking them with red blips. "We've also got service
buildings—kitchens, laundry facilities, washrooms."
"A complete community within the wall," Draycos commented.
"Two communities, actually," Uncle Virge said, sounding disgusted. "The
slaves'
area; and this." The image shifted again, centering on a huge brown-roofed
building. "The Chookoock family mansion."
Draycos leaned a little closer to the display. The mansion was set about half
a
mile back from the western edge of the estate, with an extensive parking area
in
front and a long, winding drive connecting it to a wide gate in the white
wall.
On both sides of the drive were formal gardens, complete with flower beds,
shrubs, and occasional clumps of small trees.
To the north of the mansion was a large open area where the grass had been
marked with a series of lines and circles. Some sort of sports ground,
probably.
A tall grandstand sat facing the field at the south end, with tall flagpoles
at
its corners. Further to the north, between the open ground and the slave
areas,
was a thick line of brown and green that was probably another wall.
He turned his attention to the mansion itself. The structure was four stories
high, judging from the window placement. It was composed of a central section
with a number of small wings jutting out at odd angles. There was no
particular
symmetry to the design, but the final result was nevertheless not unpleasing
to
the eye.
The structure was built of irregular pieces of stone in shades of brown, tan,
and gray. Probably stone from the estate's own quarry—he'd noticed similar
shades of rock there. Overall, the whole thing reminded him of a rocky
section
of cliff from which the soil had been scraped or eroded away. Perhaps that
had
been the designer's intent.
"Cozy," Jack said. "Ideal for you and three hundred of your closest friends.
So,
back to the perimeter wall. Any idea how high it is?"
Draycos looked at the wall. By comparing its shadow to that of the house,
which
he'd already estimated to be four stories tall... "I would say about thirty
feet
high," he offered.
"It's actually thirty-two," Uncle Virge said.
Draycos felt his tail twitch with annoyance. Typical. With access to the
Essenay's sensors, Uncle Virge had probably had that number several minutes
ago.
But instead of saying anything, he'd let Draycos make his own estimate first.
And had then showed him to be wrong. Not very far wrong, but enough. Just one
more subtle attempt to sow seeds of doubt and distrust toward Draycos in
Jack's
mind.
From the very beginning, Uncle Virge had tried to get the boy to see things
in
his own, self-absorbed way, to persuade him to wash his hands of the K'da
poet-warrior and this mission to save a people Jack didn't even know.
Clearly,
he hadn't given up that effort.
"Well, we already knew we weren't going to go in over the wall," Jack said.
"Anything outside the wall that can help us?"
"Precious little," Uncle Virge said. "There's the gatehouse, of course—"
"Gatehouse?" Jack asked.
"To the left of the main entrance," Draycos said, flicking out his tongue to
touch the edge of a small shape almost hidden beneath the wall overhang.
"Right," Uncle Virge said, sounding a little annoyed that Draycos had noticed
it. Another small red rectangle appeared to mark the image. "Probably someone
in
there checking passes and invitations and keeping the riffraff out."
"Though the actual defense positions are here and here," Draycos added,
indicating a pair of camouflaged and virtually invisible huts nestled into
two
groups of trees in the formal gardens flanking the drive. "The guard outside
is
merely for show."
"And there are bound to be more guards inside the house, as well," Uncle
Virge
said. "You sure you don't want to try a different plan?"
"What about the employees?" Jack asked, ignoring the question. "They don't
all
live in the mansion, do they?"
Uncle Virge sighed. "No, I'm sure there are some with homes in the city."
"Good," Jack said briskly. "Get busy and find one."
CHAPTER 2
The Ponocce Regional Spaceport was confusingly laid out, overloaded with
paperwork-pushers, and just plain badly run. It was also staffed entirely by
Brummgas, which, in Jack's opinion, was another way of saying the same thing.
The big, wide aliens had a reputation across the Orion Arm for being as
strong
as giant oaks and just about as smart.
But for all that, he found himself breezing through the entry procedure in
remarkably quick time. Even more surprising, his hiker's backpack with its
load
of disguised burglar tools didn't even rate a second look. Perhaps, he
thought,
a spaceport located near a major slave dealer had learned not to look too
closely at visitors or their luggage.
Night had already wrapped the sky in stars as he pushed through the double
doors—which were supposed to open automatically but didn't—and stepped out
onto
Brum-a-dum soil. "Another day, another dustball," he quoted the old saying,
taking a careful sniff of the air. Every world, he'd discovered over the
years,
had its own unique set of aromas. Most of the combinations, in his humble
opinion, stunk.
Brum-a-dum was no different. But he'd smelled worse.
Just outside the spaceport building was a small parking lot. Beyond that was
a
street with a luminescent walkway running along its edge. The road itself was
humming with vehicles, and there were enough pedestrians that Jack didn't
feel
too conspicuous.
He walked another ten minutes before deciding he was alone enough to risk
checking in. "Uncle Virge?" he murmured toward his left shoulder. "You there?"
"Where else would I be?" the computer's voice grumbled from the comm clip
fastened to his jacket collar.
"Have you got a mark, or haven't you?" Jack asked, ignoring the sarcasm.
Uncle
Virge always got crabby when Jack was about to do something he didn't like.
"Come on—I don't want to stay on this rock any longer than I have to."
"The chief gatekeeper has a house facing the main gate," Uncle Virge said
reluctantly. "Two stories, lime green with purple trim. A popular color
combination here, unfortunately."
"Don't be snobbish," Jack said. "Any other possibilities?"
"A few, but he's definitely your best bet," Uncle Virge said. "Certainly he's
the most likely to have access codes stashed away at home."
And because of that, he would also probably have the best security system in
town. A definite challenge, even for someone with Jack's training and
experience. "Sounds good," he said, trying to hide his own misgivings about
this
whole thing. "What about a high-level family official?"
"We've got two possibilities on that one," Uncle Virge said. "First is a
Brummga
named Crampatch. He's Chief Steward, in charge of most of the household
operations. Second choice is Gazen, the man in charge of the slaves
themselves."
"The man?" Draycos spoke up from his usual place on Jack's right shoulder.
"Do
you mean a human male?"
"Isn't he clever?" Uncle Virge said with a sniff. "Those language lessons are
really paying off."
Draycos's head rose off of Jack's skin, his snout bulging against the shirt
and
jacket as he shifted from his two-dimensional form to full 3-D. His tongue
flicked out toward the comm clip—"Knock it off, Uncle Virge," Jack said
quickly.
The K'da was under enough pressure without Uncle Virge going out of his way
to
irritate him. "How was he supposed to know the Chookoock family had
non-Brummgan
employees?"
"Even Brummgas are smart enough to know they need help with a business this
big," Uncle Virge muttered.
"Good thing, too," Jack said. The sewer-rat tricks Uncle Virgil had taught
him
for sneaking into other people's computers probably wouldn't work on
Brummgan-designed systems. But with a human in charge of the slaves, there
should be at least a couple of human-designed computers around to keep track
of
the paperwork.
Jack could only hope that those same computers also kept track of the
Chookoock
family's brisk trade in Brummgan soldiers-for-hire. "So which one do we
want?"
he asked Uncle Virge. "Crampatch or Gazen?"
There was a sound that might have been a sigh of resignation. "Gazen," the
computer said. "Crampatch might not be smart enough to follow the logic we're
going to present him."
"Fine," Jack said. "You ready to go into your Buffalo shuffle?"
"Maybe we should let you get a little closer first," Uncle Virge hedged. "We
don't want to give him too much time to think."
"We don't want him in a last-minute panic, either," Jack pointed out. "Do it
now."
Over the evening breeze he heard another sigh. "Whatever you say," the
computerized voice said. "Here goes."
There was a series of soft clicks as he keyed the number. Jack continued
walking, wondering if the Brum-a-dum phone system would be as badly run as
the
spaceport equipment had been.
Apparently, the Brummgas had imported their phone experts, too. There was one
final click—"Yeah; talk to me," a human voice answered.
Jack caught his breath, his mind flashing back to his encounter nearly two
months ago aboard the Advocatus Diaboli. The man who had ordered him to steal
a
metal cylinder from the starliner Star of Wonder had had a snake-like voice
very
much like this one. Could it be the same man?
On his right shoulder, Draycos hissed softly. "It is not him," he murmured.
Carefully, Jack let out his breath. No, it wasn't Snake Voice. But even the
dragon had noticed enough similarities to wonder about it.
Or maybe it was just the personality of the man behind the voice that was
coming
through. A man, like Snake Voice, who cared about nothing and no one except
himself.
"My name is Virgil, Mr. Gazen," Uncle Virge said. "I called to offer you a
deal
on a very special slave."
There was a brief pause. "How did you get this number?" Gazen demanded.
"Oh, I'm something of an expert at digging out confidential information,"
Uncle
Virge said smoothly. "As is my partner. My former partner, I should say."
"What you should say is good-bye," Gazen said, his dark voice going even
darker.
"You've got three seconds to explain why I shouldn't track this call and have
some Chookoock family enforcers show you why playing phone tricks on me is a
really bad idea."
"By all means, go ahead and send them," Uncle Virge said. "Just make sure
they're bringing money. As I said, I'm offering you a deal on a very special
slave: an expert thief and safecracker."
Gazen snorted. "Sorry. I only deal in land and household slaves."
"And mercenaries," Uncle Virge reminded him. "Brummgan soldiers for hire."
There was another short pause. "So, which merc group are you connected with?"
Gazen asked.
"None of them," Uncle Virge said. "But it occurred to me that a man who deals
in
hired guns might also be able to find a home for a boy of Jack McCoy's
skills."
"A boy?"
"Only fourteen, but already one of the best in the business," Uncle Virge
boasted. "I trained him myself."
"And you are the best, I suppose?" Gazen said sarcastically.
"Of course."
For a moment the line was silent. Jack kept walking, staring out into the
crisscross of muted streetlights marking his way. Gazen was hovering over the
bait, eyeing it and wondering if it was worth a taste. If he decided it was,
they were in.
If he decided it wasn't, Jack was going to be toast. Jelly side down.
"And I'm supposed to take your word for all this," Gazen said at last.
"Not at all," Uncle Virge assured him. "I've arranged a demonstration."
"Really. What sort?"
"Your chief gatekeeper has a house across from the Chookoock estate," Uncle
Virge explained. "I've sent Jack to burgle it."
"And what exactly did he steal?"
"Nothing, yet," Uncle Virge said. "I assumed you'd want to watch him in
action
before we discussed price."
"If he's as good as you say, why are you dumping him?"
"Because he's getting too old for what I need," Uncle Virge said. "I like to
work against people's assumptions. You see a ten-year-old kid walk into a
millionaire's mansion, you don't expect him to be casing the place. By the
time
he hits fifteen, though, people start paying attention."
"So you've decided to sell him?"
"Like you, I'm a businessman," Uncle Virge said. "I spent a lot of time and
effort training this kid. Why not get all I can out of my investment?"
"Why not indeed," Gazen said dryly. "All right, I'll play along. I presume I
don't have to tell you what happens if I find out you're running a scam here?"
"Not at all," Uncle Virge said. "In fact, I believe your enforcers are
already
gathering outside my landing bay."
"Excellent," Gazen said with satisfaction. "Brummgas are as dumb as dirt
soup,
but they're efficient enough with the things that matter. Where's the boy
now?"
"Approaching the gatekeeper's house from the direction of the spaceport,"
Uncle
Virge said. "But he's still at least half an hour away. Plenty of time for
you
to set up observers."
"His instructions?"
"To find the access codes for getting into the Chookoock estate."
There was a long, stiff silence. "Really," Gazen said at last, his voice
suddenly silky smooth. "What for?"
"As I told you: a demonstration," Uncle Virge said.
"You sure you didn't have anything else in mind?" Gazen asked. His voice was
still smooth, only now it was the smoothness of a bed of quicksand. "Like
maybe
selling any codes he happens to find?"
"If I wanted to do that, would I have called you up in advance?"
"Not unless you were stupid," Gazen conceded. But the darkness was still in
his
voice. "What do you want for the boy?"
"Let's make it sporting," Uncle Virge suggested. "Fifty thousand auzes, plus
another ten for every minute less than half an hour that it takes him to get
through the house alarms, find the gatekeeper's safe, and crack it. What do
you
say?"
"Fine," Gazen said. "Let's see how he does."
"Excellent," Uncle Virge said. "I'll be in touch."
There was a double click, and the connection went dead. "It appears to be
working," Draycos commented.
"So far, anyway," Jack said, grimacing into the darkness. "Let's try not to
disappoint him."
CHAPTER 3
The windows on the street side of the gatekeeper's house were dark when Jack
arrived. It looked like everyone had already gone to bed, but he took the
time
to walk around the entire block first just to make sure.
All the windows were dark, all right. And at nine o'clock. "They sure roll up
the walkways early around here," he muttered to Draycos as he stopped in the
shadow of a bushy tree.
"Pardon?"
"They close down shop and go to bed," Jack explained, eying the gatekeeper's
house. So far he hadn't seen or heard anyone, not even on his walk around the
block.
But they were there. He could feel it in the prickling of his skin. Gazen and
his people were watching to see just how good a thief this kid was.
And if they decided he was good enough, they would buy him.
Not hire him, like he and Uncle Virgil had sometimes been hired to break into
safes. Not even indenture him, like the Whinyard's Edge mercenaries had.
They would buy him.
He shivered. On the human-controlled Internos planets, slavery had been
banned
long ago. But on Brum-a-dum, as well as on many other worlds in the Orion
Arm,
it was perfectly legal. In some places, it was even common.
He hated this, he decided suddenly. It was one thing to sit in the cozy
comfort
of the Essenay's dayroom concocting grand and complicated schemes. It was
something else entirely to be standing here a few minutes away from becoming
a
slave.
Or, if he failed the test, those same few minutes away from being dead.
But he had no choice. That brief look from space had shown there was no other
way into the Chookoock estate, at least not without a couple of divisions of
StarForce Marines. The only way in was to be invited.
For a fourteen-year-old thief, this was the only way to get that invitation.
"What is a consular adjunct?" Draycos asked.
Jack frowned. "A what?"
"There," Draycos said, and Jack felt the dragon's tongue slide across his
collarbone toward the house he was standing in front of.
He turned to look. Like the rest of the houses in the area, it had the
darkened
windows of a place that had shut down for the night. But on a decorative post
by
the front walkway was a small glowing sign:
INTERNOS CONSULAR ADJUNCT
DAUGHTERS OF HARRIET TUBMAN
"You got me," Jack said, frowning at the sign. "Some kind of official
Internos
office, I guess. But I don't know what an adjunct is. Or what a Harriet
Tubman
is, either."
"Why would an Internos office be placed so close to a slave dealer's
territory?"
Draycos asked. It wasn't easy for a whisper to sound suspicious, but the
摘要：

DragonandSlaveDRAGONANDSLAVETimothyZahnTheThirdDragonbackAdventureForPamandBarry:FortheirfaithandtrustinthemidstoftheirownbattlesCHAPTER1Withaslightchangeinenginepitch,andasmallrippleofvibrationthroughthedeck,theEssenaycameofftheECHOstardrive.TheyhadarrivedattheplanetBrum-a-dum.Stretchedoutonhisbell...

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