Jack smiled. 'What, me and my pet dragon? Bring 'em on.'
The top of Draycos's head rose up from his shoulder to press against his shirt. 'I am a poet-warrior of the K'da,' he said, sounding offended. 'I am not a pet dragon.'
'Sure, sure,' Jack soothed, patting him on his crest. 'I know. Now keep your head down.'
'I've sent word to all Braxton Universis plants and facilities, sir,' Harper said, consulting his computer. 'Ditto to the Internes Police, and I'm working on the various alien law enforcement bureaus. We should have the whole Orion Arm alerted within a few more days.'
'Good,' Braxton said, turning the cylinder over again in his hand and gazing at the curious design that had been scratched in the bottom. 'When you're finished with that, call Anderson and have him start a full rundown on Jack Morgan. I want his history, his current occupation, family, friends—everything. Same goes for this Uncle Virge he mentioned.'
'Yes, sir,' Harper said, making a note.
'And after that, contact Chu and have him send a team to meet us on Parsonia,' Braxton said. 'I want to know what this symbol is that Jack carved here.'
He handed the cylinder to his wife. 'And,' he added, 'exactly what kind of tool he used to make it.'
