"Braxton Security, then?" Jack asked, picking a new direction through the maze and taking another quick look around before heading off.

"Who else?" Uncle Virge said. "Let me know when you're two minutes away from the ship and I'll start the engines."

"No, leave them off," Jack said quickly. "Whoever they are, they're not going to be stupid enough to miss a ship revving for a liftoff."

"You're certainly not going to try to hide out in a grounded ship," Uncle Virge pointed out.

"You got that right," Jack agreed, breaking into a jog. "We're heading into the city."

"You're what? Jack, lad—"

"I'm closing down," Jack said, reaching up and pulling the comm clip off his collar. "I'll talk to you later."

"Jack—"

Uncle Virge's protest was cut off as Jack shut off the clip. "Is there danger in the city?" Draycos asked.

"Probably," Jack said, stuffing the clip into his pocket. "But not as much as there is behind us. They getting any closer?"

He got five more steps before Draycos answered. "They are not following," he said slowly. "I believe they are moving around the edges of the stacks."

"Trying to cut us off," Jack grunted, picking up his pace. "Let's see if we can beat them."

He broke into a flat-out run, hoping his pursuers were making too much noise of their own to hear him. Once, as he rounded one of the stacks, it occurred to him that barreling through a cargo maze infested with heenas might not be the most brilliant thing he'd ever done in his life. He would just have to hope that they'd learned not to mess with the kid in the leather jacket.

The open area around the outer warehouse wall was deserted when he finally emerged from the stacks. "Draycos?" he asked softly, peering across the open area toward the wide doors where the main cargo monorail tracks came into the warehouse. Outside the doors the ground was well lit, with the lights of the city twinkling in the near distance. As far as he could tell, there was no one out there.

"No one is moving nearby," the dragon said, flicking out his tongue. "Nor do I smell anyone close at hand. This is perhaps our best opportunity."

Jack made a face. And if no one was moving or breathing nearby, but a whole bunch of them were waiting outside for him to show up?

Still, if they were, there wasn't a lot he could do about it. Like their escape from Draycos's wrecked ship, all he could do was go for it and hope for the best. "Right," he muttered. "Here goes."

He had been mildly surprised back on Iota Klestis when more of the Brummga's friends hadn't been ready to pounce as he ran for the Essenay. He was even more surprised that no one was lurking in the shadows here as he crossed the graytop and ducked through the cargo entrance.

Once, as he ran across the lighted ground outside he thought he heard a shout behind him. But the sound wasn't repeated, and no one shot at him, and a minute later he was outside the range of the lights and into the comforting gloom of night.

Not that darkness alone was going to give him much safety. Darkness and distance, that was the combination he wanted. He passed the fence at the edge of the spaceport and turned down one of the streets heading into the city.

They'd made it six blocks, and Jack had changed streets twice, when Draycos spoke again. "You are saying the box contained nothing except solidified carbon dioxide?"

"You got it," Jack confirmed, pausing a moment to look around. The last turn had put him on a narrow, winding street lined with closely-packed two– and three-story buildings. A few of the buildings had balconies, which the residents seemed to use mostly for storing potted plants. The street itself wasn't very well lit, and the few pedestrians he could see walking along in the distance were too shadowy for him to make out even what species they were.

"I do not understand the purpose."

"You said it yourself, back on the ship," Jack reminded him, continuing down the street. A delicate aroma was drifting through the air from somewhere, reminding him of fresh-baked cinnamon bread. "Someone wanted to frame me. The dry ice—"

"Pardon?"

"Dry ice," Jack repeated. "That's what we call frozen carbon dioxide. The stuff evaporated slowly enough over the four-day trip to Cordolane for the Essenay's air system to handle the extra gas without triggering any alarms."

The cinnamon smell was getting stronger, he noticed. A bakery nearby, maybe? He hoped so. He was starting to get hungry, and it had been a long time since he'd had a good cinnamon roll.

"What is this place?" Draycos asked. "The smells are not those of humans."

"I'm not sure," Jack said. "I've only been here a couple of times, and never to this side of the port. If I'm remembering the map right, it's the Wistawki area."

"Are they friendly to humans?"

Jack shrugged. "I don't think they're unfriendly, for whatever that's worth. I remember Uncle Virgil conning a couple of them once; they seemed friendly enough. Gullible, too."

There was silence from his shoulder. Jack winced, realizing that last comment had probably offended his companion. He opened his mouth to apologize—

"Behind us," Draycos murmured.

"What?" Jack asked, his apology and rumbling stomach both abruptly forgotten.

"Footsteps," the dragon said. "It is those who sought us in the warehouse."

Chapter 12

Jack didn't even bother to ask how in the world the dragon could tell they were the same footsteps. "We'd better hide," he said, picking up his speed as he looked around. No alleyways; no open doors; no bushes or shrubs he could duck behind. He peered ahead, looking for a cross street, but the nearest one was a long ways away.

"Those platforms," Draycos said. "Would one of those do?"

"The plat—? Oh, the balconies." Jack looked up at the nearest one. It stretched across the full length of the second floor, a good six feet above his head. "Sure, they'd do great. Problem is, they're a little high up, and there's no way to climb them."

There was a sudden weight and pulling at the back of his collar, and out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of Draycos leaping out from the back of his neck. "It can be done," the dragon declared as he landed on the ground.

"Are you nuts?" Jack hissed, spinning around. "You want someone to see you?"

"That way," Draycos ordered, jabbing his snout ahead.

"Run to that building. When I say jump, you will jump up toward it."

Jack turned, frowning. The indicated building had a balcony, all right, one with enough of a gap between the potted plants for him to lie down in. But it was no lower than any of the other balconies. "I can't jump that high, Draycos," he insisted, turning back. "If you think—"

He broke off. Draycos had moved twenty feet back and was crouched down in the middle of the street like a sprinter getting ready to run.

And in the dim streetlight, he could see that the dragon's gold scales were turning black. "Go," the dragon ordered again. "Run."

Warrior ethic, Uncle Virge's phrase flitted through Jack's mind. What did a K'da warrior do, he wondered suddenly, if an underling disobeyed a direct order? That might be something to ask about when this was all over. "Yeah," he managed. "Right." Turning, he took off toward the building as fast as he could run.

He wasn't alone. Draycos's feet were silent in the quiet street, but Jack could hear the dragon's breath rapidly catching up behind him.

He could also hear the faint sound of footsteps now, approaching from the direction they'd just come. They sounded like they were running, too.

Jack clenched his teeth. Directly ahead of him, he suddenly realized, was the building's main door, half hidden in the balcony's shadow. Was that what the crazy dragon had in mind? That Jack should slam into the door hard enough to break it down? He opened his mouth to object—