"I believe him to be an honorable human," Draycos said. "He would be strongly opposed to children being used for such a purpose."

"Fine, but how did—oh, never mind," Jack said, giving up. Sometimes Draycos's mind wandered off onto the strangest bunny trails. "Just don't forget that he didn't build Braxton Universis into one of the Orion Arm's biggest megacorpora-tions by being Saint Boy Scout. The only reason he was so nice to me was because we did him a big favor. If he had to indenture kids to get something he wanted, I bet he'd do it. He might not like it, but he'd do it."

"Perhaps," Draycos said. "Still, you and I at least should have nothing to fear from him."

"I'm not so sure about that, either," Jack said, thinking back to the glint in Braxton's eye at their last meeting. "I wasn't exactly telling him the whole truth about what happened, you know. I get the feeling people don't tell half-truths to Cornelius Braxton and get away with it. He may not be finished with us yet." He grimaced. "I'd lay odds that Arthur Neverlin isn't finished with us, either."

"Perhaps," Draycos said. "But I would suspect that Neverlin has all he can do right now trying to conceal himself from Braxton."

"Don't you believe it," Jack warned. "Snakes like Neverlin can always find time for a little revenge when someone's double crossed him. Especially when they've double-crossed him as badly as we did."

"A double cross implies there was a legitimate agreement to begin with," Draycos pointed out. "You were blackmailed into assisting him."

"You think that's going to matter to Neverlin?"

"I suppose not," Draycos conceded, his voice thoughtful.

Again, Jack tried to get a look at the dragon's face. "So where exactly are you going with this line of conversation?" he asked. "You suggesting we ask Braxton for help?"

"Certainly not," Draycos said firmly, his mind apparently finished with wherever it had been wandering. "You know we cannot afford to let anyone know there was a survivor of the Valahgua attack. I have simply been thinking about Braxton today."

"And I'm sure he appreciates it," Jack said. "Can we forget him now and concentrate on the problem at hand?"

"Yes, of course," Draycos said. "What do you wish me to do?"

"First of all, you eat," Jack said, reaching under his bunk to the napkin-wrapped slices of meat he'd managed to smuggle out of the mess hall. "There isn't much here, I'm afraid. I'll try to do better tomorrow."

"I am grateful." Draycos's head rose from Jack's chest, pushing up the blankets.

One by one, Jack fed the meat slices into his open mouth, maneuvering carefully between the sharp teeth. It felt rather like feeding a pet dog, he thought.

He quickly and firmly put the warm-fuzzy image away. Draycos had already made it clear he wasn't anyone's pet. "I can hunt if necessary, as well," the dragon said, still chewing as his head sank flat against Jack's chest again. "What is next?"

"The main computer system is probably in the headquarters," Jack said. "It's a big, three-story gray building through the trees facing the landing area. It had a flag flying in front of it earlier."

"I saw it."

"Good," Jack said. He was never quite sure how much Draycos could see riding his skin that way. "There may be a way to tap into their records from somewhere else, but I'm guessing the HQ is our best bet. And since they probably aren't going to let us just walk in and sift through their files during the day, it's going to have to be at night."

"There will be guard patrols," Draycos pointed out. "As well as alarms."

"Right," Jack agreed. "Nothing we can do about the alarms until we can get a close look at them. But we should at least be able to figure out the patrols."

"Yes," Draycos said. The blankets swelled upward again as the dragon raised his head from Jack's shoulder and poked his snout into the open air. "These windows do not face the proper direction."

"There are some in the washroom that do," Jack said. "High up on the walls. You should be able to see the HQ and most of the area around it from there."

"Good." Draycos rose higher off Jack's skin and stretched his neck, the movement shaking his head completely out of concealment. "Hold your breath."

Frowning, Jack took a deep breath and held it. For perhaps twenty seconds the dragon sat there like a statue, his golden scales seeming to glow in the pale light. Every few seconds his ears would twitch; and then, abruptly, he nodded. "They are all asleep," he said, dropping lightly onto the floor beside Jack's cot. "I will need your watch."

Jack handed it over. "They said reveille would be at four-thirty," he warned the dragon. "Don't pull a Cinderella on me."

"Pardon?"

"Skip it," Jack said, resettling the blankets over his shoulders and rolling onto his side. It had been a long day, and he suddenly realized he was very tired indeed. "Just don't be late. And try not to wake me up when you get home."

Reveille came precisely at four-thirty, a raucous trumpet blare that sent bunks jerking all through the barracks. Thirty seconds later, Sergeant Grisko himself came striding through the door, bellowing for all the greasy maggot-infested sacks of lard to get their hind ends out of bed and stand at attention.

"Sloppy, maggots," he growled when the teens were standing stiffly at the ends of their bunks. "What do you think this is, summer camp? Well, it's not. Who do you think I am, your mother? Well, I'm not."

He stomped slowly down the room between the lines, looking each recruit up and down as he went, describing in vivid detail exactly what he thought of them, their parents, their expectations, and their chances of becoming successful soldiers. It was highly intimidating, as it was no doubt meant to be.

At the same time, Jack couldn't help but admire the range of the man's vocabulary. He'd spent a fair amount of time over the years in the company of Uncle Virgil's associates, and he'd always assumed their language was as vile as it got.

Grisko's loud defense of the cooking staff the previous evening had already put him in the same high-level cursing league as those men. Only now did Jack realize how restrained the sergeant's mess hall tirade had actually been.

And this was just the first early-morning wakeup. He wondered how much the man still had in reserve.

He reached Jack ... and suddenly stopped cold. "What in the name of Cutter's Hind End are you supposed to be?" he demanded, looking Jack up and down. "Sir?" Jack asked between stiff lips. "Is this some kind of joke?" Grisko bit out, waving a hand at him.

Jack looked down at Draycos, back in his proper place wrapped around his body. "It's a tattoo, sir."

"It's a tattoo, sir," Grisko mimicked. "Get rid of it." Jack blinked. "Sir?"

"I said get rid of it," Grisko snapped. "Wash it off, sandblast it off—whatever it takes."

"But it's a tattoo," Jack protested. "It doesn't come off." Grisko had been starting to turn back toward the door. Instead, he turned back to Jack, gazing down his nose directly into Jack's face. "Are you arguing with me, Montana?" he asked, his voice suddenly very quiet. "Are you disobeying a direct order?"

"No, sir," Jack said, thinking fast. "Request permission to return home to visit a removal clinic."

The corner of Grisko's mouth twitched into something that was probably as close to a smile as he ever got. "That's better," he said. "When I give you an order, you jump to obey it. Clear?"

"Yes, sir," Jack said.

"Good," Grisko said. "Permission denied. You don't skip out on basic for anything. You'll get it removed during first liberty."

He made a precise about-face, just like the ones Jack and the others had practiced the previous afternoon, except that Grisko got it right. "All right, maggots," he announced, starting back down the line. "You've got five minutes to suit up in fatigues and report to the mess hall. Thirty minutes from right now, you will have eaten and assembled on the Number Three parade ground. Now move!"