his hand chained to the shelf that way. Turning around, he pressed his back against the row of boxes. In their two-dimensional form, K'da had a trick that let them see right through solid objects—though Draycos insisted on saying he was seeing 'over' them—provided the walls were thin enough. 'How's that?'
There was a sliding sensation on his back as Draycos moved into position. 'Anything useful in there?' he asked.
The dragon shifted again, paused, shifted again. Examining all the boxes within reach, probably. There was one final movement, and Jack felt the dragon's head slide back around to rest on his right shoulder. 'There is nothing useful to us,' he reported. 'Two of the boxes contain grenades, while the third contains ammunition. There is nothing that will assist us in a quiet escape.'
'Might be helpful in a noisy one, though,' Jack pointed out.
'We do not wish a noisy escape, Jack,' Draycos said.
'Personally, I don't care what flavor escape we get,' Jack grumbled. 'You got any ideas?'
'Perhaps,' Draycos said. A bit of weight came onto Jack's wrist near the handcuff. 'Tell me, what did you do to the computers?'
Jack shook his head. 'Not a thing. The codes just didn't work.'
'How can that be?'
'Only two possibilities I can think of,' Jack said. 'Either some idiot got the computers mixed up, or else someone went in and changed all the codes.'
Draycos was silent a moment. 'Let us follow the chain of reason,' he suggested. 'Your squad used the computers on the voyage to this world.'
'Right,' Jack said. 'And they were fine during the whole trip.'
'They were then transported across the town of Mer'seb to the headquarters building,' Draycos went on. 'From there they were loaded aboard the Lynx and brought to the outpost at Kilo Seven.'
'So if they were switched, it had to have been done in Mer'seb,' Jack concluded. 'And if they were repro-grammed ...'
He trailed off. 'You have a thought?' Draycos prompted.
'I was just thinking,' Jack said slowly. 'During the trip to Kilo Seven, they were stacked back in the storage compartment with the rest of the baggage. Anyone could have gone back there and fiddled with them.'
'How difficult would it be to alter the codes?'
'I don't know,' Jack said. 'Uncle Virgil always handled any code-switching we had to do. But I suppose if you'd set up a program card in advance, it could be done pretty quickly.'
He tried to reach up to scratch his cheek. The hand came up short as it reached the end of the handcuff chain. 'In fact, I'll bet it could even have been done at Kilo Seven while the rest of the squad was getting things set up,' he added, examining the restraints with his fingertips. The lock pressed up against the underside of his wrist felt like a standard mechanical handcuff lock. With a proper lockpick, he should be able to open it.
Trouble was, he didn't have a proper lockpick with him. Still, maybe he could find something on the floor; a sliver of metal or something else he could bend into the proper shape. With his free hand, he began feeling carefully around the packed dirt beneath the shelves.
'Alison Kayna,' Draycos said suddenly.
Jack's fingers paused in their search. 'What about her?'
'She was moving around aboard the Lynx,' the dragon reminded him. 'She came and spoke with you, in fact.'
'Yes, I remember,' Jack said, frowning. He'd assumed at the time that she'd just noticed him talking with Sergeant Grisko and decided to be nosy.
But what if that wasn't all of it? What if she'd been back fiddling with the squad's computers? She would have had a clear view of his chat with Grisko from there. 'Do you remember if she was in her seat when I was talking to Grisko?'
'I was not able to see in that direction,' Draycos said. 'At all other times I was watching through the window.'
And Jack himself was taking a snooze. The rest of Tango Five Zulu could have thrown a dance party back there for all he knew. 'But why would she sabotage the computers?' he asked.
'Why would anyone do so?' Draycos countered.
Jack shrugged. 'You got me.'
'I do not know either,' Draycos said. 'However, we suspect that Alison has had previous military training. Her own statement is that she was once with a different group. I do not believe she ever stated which one.'
Jack blinked in the darkness. 'Are you suggesting she's a spy for the Shamshir?'
'I do not suggest anything in particular,' Draycos said. 'This situation is not like any I am familiar with.'
'Yeah, I don't suppose it is,' Jack conceded. 'These aren't your kind of soldiers, are they?'
'No, they are not,' Draycos said, and Jack could hear the contempt in his voice. 'These are little more than thieves in uniforms.'
Jack grimaced. 'In uniforms, and with high-power rifles.'
'The weapons do not matter,' Draycos said. 'What matters is that they are not true soldiers. I do not believe they will think as warriors do. That gives us an advantage.'
'Right.' Offhand, Jack couldn't think of any advantages they had at this particular moment, but he wasn't going to argue the point.
For a couple of minutes neither of them spoke. The only sounds were the whistling of the wind against the hardened mud swirls on the outside of their hut and an odd sort of scratching noise Jack couldn't identify. 'What are the Shon-tine like?' he asked suddenly.
'What do you mean?' Draycos asked. 'Are you asking about their physical form?'
'No, I saw some of their bodies aboard the Havenseeker' Jack said, shivering at the memory of that trek through debris and death. 'I meant what are they like as people. Their personalities, culture—that sort of thing. Are they like you, or are they more like humans?'
Draycos seemed to gather his thoughts. 'I do not yet know your people very well,' he said slowly. 'You will therefore need to make your own comparisons. The Shon-tine in general are not violent or aggressive beings. Few indeed are the true warriors born to them, though those few are strongly gifted in their art. Still, even the average Shontin is capable of fighting in his own defense when it becomes necessary to do so.'
'But only as a last resort?'
'Mostly,' Draycos agreed. 'The majority of them prefer to contemplate and appreciate the various forms of their arts, or to create beautiful and useful things with their hands, or to work the soil and bring forth food.'
'Sounds like something you'd find on one of the Orion Arm's more backwater
