Dragon and Judge

"You mean that old entrance building sort of thing?" Naught asked. "A little north of it, actually. The four of them were poking around in the sand, doing God only knows what. By the time I saw them, it was too late. I had zero control left, and I just slammed into them. You were the one in the air shaft, weren't you?"

"The One didn't contact any of the Semaline authorities regarding you after the crash?"

"If he did, I never heard about it," Naught said. "And thanks to you and your noisemaker, it doesn't look like anyone's going to be talking to them anytime soon, either. You have any idea how close I was to getting out of there?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," Draycos said. "What sort of vehicle were you flying?"

"It was a long-range pursuit starfighter," Naught said. "A Djinn-90, to be exact. If that means anything to you."

Draycos felt his crest stiffen. That was the same type of pursuit fighter he and Jack had escaped from off Iota Klestis after the ambush of Draycos's advance team.

But no. This couldn't possibly be one of Colonel Frost's Malison Ring mercenaries.

Or could it? "What's your name?" he asked carefully. "Your real name?"

The other sighed. "Not that it seems to matter anymore, but I used to be called Langston."

"Langston?"

"Yes," Langston said. "StarForce Wing Sergeant Jonathan Langston." The cot creaked again as he waved an arm. "At your rather limited service."

For a half-dozen heartbeats Draycos was completely at a loss for words. For months he'd been hearing about StarForce, usually from Uncle Virge insisting Jack turn Draycos over to them. Jack had always insisted right back that Neverlin would surely have taken the precaution of bribing or neutralizing some of the men and women in key positions, and the subject had been dropped until the next time Uncle Virge brought it up.

And now here Draycos was, actually speaking with one of those warriors.

Maybe. "Can you prove that?" he asked.

"They left me my ID wallet," Langston said. "It's at the foot of the bed with the rest of my clothes."

Draycos swiveled his neck and located the neat stack. "Turn to face the back wall," he ordered. "Don't move."

There was another shifting of the cot as Langston obediently rolled over. Draycos went over to the clothing pile, located the wallet, and tucked it under his right foreleg. "I'll need to borrow it for a time," he said as he returned to the side of the cot. "The Judge-Paladin will want to examine it."

"Help yourself," Langston said. "I'm not likely to need it anytime soon."

"Possibly sooner than you think," Draycos said. "If the event is indeed as you described, you were wrongfully charged."

"And you and the Judge-Paladin will see that I'm released, I suppose?"

"We will," Draycos said.

"Well, good luck to you," Langston said. "Whoever you are."

Draycos hesitated. Then, somewhat even to his own surprise, he came to a decision. "Call me Draycos," he said. "I'll be back another time."

Getting up, he padded to the cave entrance. "Just watch yourself," Langston warned from the cot. "You and the Judge-Paladin. These Golvins may look silly and harmless, but they're not."

"Your presence here proves that," Draycos pointed out dryly. "Don't worry. The Judge-Paladin and I have a long history together of being careful." Gripping the stone at the side of the entrance, he slipped out into the night.

Jack, he knew, was going to love this.

"And you're sure he didn't see you?" Jack asked, squinting at the StarForce ID under the glow of the bedroom's light.

"I'm positive," Draycos assured him, pacing back and forth across the bedroom. "I was listening carefully to his breathing as I left. I'm coming to realize that no human could spot me for the first time without some sort of reaction."

"You got that right, buddy." With a sigh, Jack flicked off the light. "Well, if it's not a real StarForce ID, it's a really good fake. And I mean a really good one."

"You've seen a genuine one?"

"I've seen a really good fake," Jack told him. "One of Uncle Virgil's associates made a living off things like that. But this doesn't make any sense."

"Why they should condemn him for a simple accident?"

"Why they should still have him here in the first place," Jack said. "I mean, they've been putting up a prisoner for five years. Feeding and clothing him—they have been feeding and clothing him, haven't they?"

"From what I could see, he appeared adequately fed," Draycos said. "Though I saw no clothing other than what he was wearing."

"Well, his own stuff probably hasn't worn out yet," Jack said. "My point is that the whole thing costs resources the Golvins could surely put to more productive use. They ought to be doing cartwheels at the chance to turn him over to a Judge-Paladin and be rid of him."

Draycos's tail tip was making slow circles in the air. "Unless there's a reason other than simple vengeance for keeping him here," the K'da suggested slowly. "He said the Golvins he'd killed were working not too far from the mine entrance."

"You think there's a connection?"