Dragon Rigger

by Jeffrey A. Carver

  Settled in a nearby lounge, Kan-Kon drew deeply on a draft of ale. He sighed with noisy satisfaction, thumping his mug down onto the table. Jael watched uneasily, wondering if he would be transformed before her eyes into the man she had met before. As if reading her mind, Kan-Kon murmured, "I expect you're wondering . . ." He paused.

  "Do you still, uh, do business, here at the spaceport?" Jael stammered, trying to fill the awkward silence.

  Kan-Kon tipped his head noncommittally. The question seemed to make him uncomfortable. He grinned, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. "A little, here and there. I keep my hand in." He hoisted his mug again, hesitated, then laughed abruptly and took another great swallow. He seemed to want to say more. But he turned to stare out the window instead.

  Jael glanced at Ar, whose expression was unreadable. "Well," she said, "I guess Ar might like to hear about your experiences with—you know."

  Kan-Kon tensed, still looking outside, tapping one fingernail on the table. He finally nodded, and turned back to face them. "I reckon you know what she means, Ar. It was nearly seven years 'go, standard." He cleared his throat noisily, and quit drumming on the table. "I was flying a duel rigger with my friend Hoddy—up from the south toward Lexis. Don't even remember which one of us it was got the idea. But we thought, let's take a detour and see if those rumors're true—about the dragons. I mean, here we were, just like everyone else, avoiding the mountains. And it seemed sort of foolish to us. I was a pretty good rigger, back in those days. Cocky, though. We didn't really think it was true, about dragons. So we went into the mountains."

  "And?" Ar asked.

  Kan-Kon guffawed bitterly. "Oh, it was true! And it wasn't a very long detour, either, not once the dragons showed up. . . ."

  * * *

  Jael stroked her throat nervously as Kan-Kon told his story. Ar displayed the same noncommittal politeness with which he had first heard her tell of meeting Highwing. Kan-Kon, so far, had stuck mainly to the duel, which had ended with their capture. He had not yet mentioned the one thing that had convinced her of the truth of his story. She cleared her throat. "Tell Ar how it was you heard the . . . prophecy."

  There was a sudden glimmer in Ar's eyes. He took perhaps his third sip of ale since they had sat down.

  Kan-Kon grunted. "Right. Well, they had us trapped—caught on a kind of rock plateau, surrounded by four of 'em. Couldn't flee, couldn't fight. They had us stuck in some kind of a spell, you'd almost say, as though our feet was glued to the rock. But then—" He shook his head as if in puzzlement. "They got to arguin' amongst themselves about whether we were some kind of demons or something. About whether to just barbecue us, or turn us into lizards, or I don't know what. There was some noise about a prophecy, but they didn't say anything I could make sense out of. Not till the iff—the iffling—appeared."

  "What did the iffling say?" Jael asked, glancing at Ar.

  Kan-Kon sighed. "Said they was making a mistake. It sort of . . . sang . . . this prophecy to them. But I swear, it seemed to be lookin' right at me and Hoddy the whole time. Mebbe that's why I remember what it said so well." Kan-Kon shuddered, taking another swallow of ale. He swayed a little, as though the power of the memory were too great to contain.

  "And—"

  "Ah . . ." Kan-Kon slowly drew himself straighter. He seemed a different man from the one who had stood before a crowded bar and shouted the words. Now he spoke them softly. "It went somethin' like this. 'From beyond life and hope will come one. Friendless will come one. And the realm shall tremble.' " He peered at Jael. " 'Giving her name will come one. Challenging darkness will come one. And the realm shall tremble.' Something like that, anyway." He drew a breath and continued, " 'From that one comes a beginning. From that one comes an ending. And you bet your—' er, that is, 'and surely the realm shall tremble.' " He cleared his throat and frowned down at the table. He glanced up and took another drink, a long one. His sobriety was fading visibly.

  Jael felt her temples pulsing. "And what did they do then?"

  "Well, that's when Hoddy took it in his head to try to make a break. The spell somehow loosened, and he jumped. And they grabbed him in an instant and—" Kan-Kon's voice caught, then turned angry. "What they did was"—his voice cracked—"they tore him right out of his body. Killed him there on the spot. I don't know how—or even why. They jus' did it. Somethin' happened in the Flux, like a big quaking, and then I saw his . . . spirit, y'might say . . . lift right out of the net. And then somehow they just crushed the life out of him." Kan-Kon stared at Jael, then jerked his gaze away. "It was like watchin' a flame snuff out. He was just gone. But o'course, his body was still right there in the rigger-station. And I had to—to take him out and put him in the . . . freezer. And bring him back."

  He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then blinked them open and continued in a husky voice, "They cremated him here on Cargeeling. Put it down as unexplained accident. Flux abscess or some doodoo cowpuckeyshit like that. He's still . . . I mean, I go out every once in a while to the place where they . . . where the marker is." He drained his mug in a single long gulp and savagely punched the table pad for another, then stared in silence at the table.

  Jael asked quietly, "Why didn't they do the same to you?"

  Kan-Kon pressed his lips together to keep them from quivering. "I . . . I guess the iffling . . . finally got through to 'em. All along, it was sayin', 'He's not the one. He's not the one! And even if he were, don't you think doing that to him would just make him stronger?' " Kan-Kon paused. "That's what it said. And I still, to this day, don't know what the damn thing meant by it. But the dragons seemed to know. At least—in the end, two of them made the others set me free."

  He cocked his head at Jael. "And I guess mebbe that's one reason I believe you—that not all dragons are bad, I mean. But lemme tell you, I never—never—was so glad to leave a place in my life. Still, you know, to this day . . . there's something about that place that just won't let me go. I don't know why." He shook his head, then bowed it, pressing his hands together prayerfully in front of his nose. A thin line of tears was running down his cheek.

  Ar stirred. "Your words trouble me, Kan-Kon." The ex-rigger snorted, as a robot delivered a fresh mug of ale to the table. "But not, perhaps, for the reasons you think." The backs of Ar's eyes glowed like coals. Twilight was deepening outside the window of the lounge. A starship, locked to a tow, rose from the field beyond the administration buildings. The tow's space inductors glowed orange, rising and dwindling into the sky as the tow and ship accelerated away.

  Kan-Kon grunted. "So why, then?"

  Ar stroked his temple ridges. "It's more because . . . well, I guess you heard our story from Jael already." When Kan-Kon nodded, Ar said, "It's because, well, I believe that Jael . . ." Ar hesitated.

  "She's the One, if that's what you're havin' trouble sayin'. Hell, I know that already," Kan-Kon said.

  Ar looked disconcerted. He sat back, glancing at Jael. "Did you—?"

  "Naw," Kan-Kon said. "I know what you're thinkin'. That maybe she went around braggin'. But she didn't, she jus' told me what happened. And the rest—hell, it was obvious. And I guess tha's why you need to go back. Because there's somethin' there that you're destined for. I can't tell you what, and I don't know if it's good or bad. But I'm damn sure it'll be dangerous, and it might even—"

  He swallowed, and his voice softened suddenly. "Well . . . I thought I heard these words, too—when the dragons were babbling about the prophecy, not the iffling." He cleared his throat, several times. "From that one's death will . . . something something . . . ending be wrought." He stared at her. "I don't know what it means—or if it means anything. But . . . well, if you're destined, then I guess you have to go. But be careful!" His eyes suddenly came afire, his hands in the air, waving. "Get yourself a ship, Jael! Don't let this thing stand in the way of your destiny!"

  Jael felt a chill. "What do you think we're trying to do?"

  "Don't take no for an answer! If i
t's money you need—aahhhhh—" Kan-Kon groaned and abruptly looked away, glaring into space.

  Jael watched him, waiting to see if he would finish his sentence. Finally she whispered, "Do you know where we could get—?"

  "Nahhh," Kan-Kon said, breaking the spell. He shook his head, belched, and took another long pull from his mug. "Well!" he said, straightening up suddenly. He was still avoiding Jael's eyes, and he looked acutely uncomfortable. Clearly he had said something he wished he hadn't. "Anyways," he blurted, "you shouldn't be listenin' to a washed-up old fart like me. I guess I should be gettin' along on my way here. I wish you two . . . luck . . . findin' a ship to go, and all. I know how it is, when you got a call and you jus' have to do somethin', someway, somehow."

  Jael could only stare at him in bewilderment.

  "I guess I'll maybe see you two good riggers again before you leave. Anyways, thanks for the . . . tea." Kan-Kon heaved himself up and walked, swaying, from the room.

  Chapter 13: A Partnership Forged

  The posting of the auction came with shocking speed. The name Seneca appeared on the bulletins two days after the default on the bill at the repair yard. There still was no word from Mariella Flaire, but apparently the management of the yard was either pessimistic about the chances of being paid or, more likely, eager to turn a profit on Flaire's misfortune.

  "What are we going to do?" Jael asked, feeling what remained of her hope slipping away.

  Ar was silent for a time as they stared at the bulletin. "Either we triple our money in the next two days or we give up on Seneca—"

  "And find a cheaper ship." Jael nodded dully. She had been steeling herself for the inevitable. But what kind of a wreck could they afford to buy? Probably one that couldn't qualify for a spaceworthiness certificate. Ar was clearly thinking the same thing. Just remember, she thought, Willie LeBrae made ships fly that had no business flying. If he could do it, so can I.

  But as they walked away from the boards, even Ar was slumping.

  * * *

  The auction was scheduled for two days later. The next day, Jael received a message on her room com: "Miss LeBrae—we urgently request you call our office at Krakow Spaceport concerning a matter of great import to both of us. Please call today. Herbert Connolly, AAA Refitting and Resupply, Unlimited, Krakow." Jael was puzzled, to say the least. She'd never heard of the company, or of Herbert Connolly. Finally she called the number. The secretary who answered could tell her only that Mr. Connolly wished her to visit the office as soon as possible.

  Ar was off on a round of visits to finance companies and probably wouldn't be back for several hours. After some thought, Jael decided to go alone. The address turned out to be in a line of small offices at the edge of the spaceport. The area was dreary, the buildings a dirty grey. Only a faded number on the front distinguished the building at the address she'd been given. Inside, she found dim hallways and doors with grimy windows. At the end of a long hall, she found AAA Refitting and Resupply. It was only a little less depressing on the inside. Behind the front desk were ancient holos of three obsolete spaceships, all impossibly bright and shiny. The pictures had a slight distortion-shimmer to them. She was sure they were at least two decades old. The side wall boasted last year's calendar.

  A matronly seeming woman walked out of a back room. Jael drew a breath. "Is Mr. Connolly here? I'm Jael—"

  "LeBrae? Yes." The woman touched the com. "Ms. LeBrae here to see you."

  "Thank you, Mrs. Murdock."

  A wiry black man emerged from the back room and gestured her in. He took a seat behind a plain, but immaculate, oak-topped desk. He stared at her for a moment, without speaking. Jael perched on the edge of an old wooden chair and returned his stare. His eyes had no whites; they were entirely charcoal grey, except for the black pupils. Against his ebony skin, his eyes seemed to recede into the distance. Jael blinked, and started to say, You sent me a message, when she realized that he had just introduced himself. "Meez Le-Brae," he continued, in carefully clipped syllables, his hands folded before him—and he hesitated, as though reluctant to continue, before giving a long, wistful sigh, "eet ees my understanding that you are in need of a sheep. Eef I may ask . . ." He hesitated again, then shook his head and continued, in an accent which she did not recognize, "Is thees so?"

  Jael hesitated, then nodded. How did this man know? Did rumor travel that fast here in Krakow?

  "Well-l-l, then," he said, with a scowl, "it may bee that I can be of asseestance to you. Or—I should say—one whom I represent wishes to hel-l-lp you." He twitched his nose. As she was about to ask, with considerable suspicion, what exactly he was talking about, he added emphatically, "This ees not my idea. But . . . we have heard of your eenterest in a sheep named Seneca—which is schedul-l-l-ed to be auctioned. Eef I may ask—is that correct? You have flown this sheep before?"

  Jael felt her brow furrow up as she forced her head to nod. She felt paralyzed by bewilderment. Who the hell was this man, and who was his friend? Why should she speak to him? She wanted to run, screaming, from the room. She wanted to fall to her knees and beg him to say more. What did it matter who he was?

  "Ah-ha." Connolly steepled his fingers on his desk, seemingly unaware of her reaction to his question. "Meez LeBrae, I may have a proposition of mutual inter-r-rest." He coughed delicately, as her breath caught in her throat. "That is . . . your friend, and my partner, Meester Gonzol-l-l-es, has asked eef we might join with you in the purchase of the aforementioned sheep. He has expressed his desire to share with you and your partner in the ownersheep of that sheep." Connolly paused, puckering his mouth. "If you would be inter-r-r-ested . . ." He sat back and stared at her, as though expecting her to take over the conversation. When she didn't, he asked with some impatience, "Would that eenterest you, Meez LeBrae?"

  Jael stared at him stupidly.

  Connolly looked pained. "Meez LeBrae, I am given to understand that time is somewhat of the essence in thees matter."

  Jael struggled to reply. Who the hell was Mr. Gonzoles? Someone Ar had talked to? Had he already made it all the way down to this . . . dump of an office, looking for help? Tears began to well in her eyes, and she tried to make them stop.

  "Meez LeBrae?"

  Had this man just offered to help her buy Seneca? Or was she hallucinating . . . ?

  "Meez LeBrae, you know who I'm talking about, yes? If I may say, you l-l-look sl-l-lightly confused—"

  She shook her head, blinking. "I don't know any Mr. Gonzoles!" she blurted finally.

  The charcoal eyes stared. "Meester Kan-Kon Gonzol-l-les? You don't know Kan-Kon Gonzol-l-les?"

  Kan-Kon? she thought, certain she must have misheard. Kan-Kon Gonzoles? "Excuse me," she whispered. She shook her head. "That's ridiculous. Kan-Kon couldn't possibly be—I mean he's, he's—" A drunkard. A failure. A misfit.

  "Yes," Connolly agreed, as though reading her thoughts. "That ees true. Nevertheless—"

  "Are you telling me," she demanded, "that Kan-Kon is in a position to help me buy a ship?"

  Connolly looked disconsolate. "Yesss, Meez LeBrae. I'm afraid so. I assure you, thees idea is as unsettling to me as it is to you." He hesitated. "But shall we continue?"

  Jael swallowed and stared at him in disbelief. Connolly seemed to take that as assent, and went on to present the particulars of the proposed arrangement: a pooling of resources, a joint effort. It all seemed more than a little hazy to Jael; she began to feel as if she were flying in the rigger-net in some sort of syrupy landscape, unable to make her thoughts keep up with the events streaming by. Connolly talked, and she answered, but with only scant comprehension of what she was saying. Kan-Kon Gonzoles was going to help them buy the ship. Kan-Kon.

  Only after she had shaken hands with Mr. Connolly and left the office, promising to return with Ar, did the feeling begin to dissipate. Even then, her head seemed to be ringing so loudly she could scarcely hear a sound around her. But by the time she returned to her quarters, she was beginning to beli
eve it, and to become excited, filled with the strange conviction that things were at last starting to turn her way.

  * * *

  By the time Ar came back, it was well after the close of business hours. Nevertheless, after she'd explained the situation to an incredulous Ar, she called Connolly, and he urged them to come right down.

  It was now dark in the industrial park. There was a nightglow billboard on the side of one of the buildings, spelling out a graphic enticement for an erotic-aid product, with glowing, billowing green images and words that seemed to rise out of the flat side of the building. Jael was glad, as she walked past it with Ar, that it was too dark for him to see her flushing with indignation.

  The hallway leading to Connolly's office was even gloomier than it had been in daylight, but the office itself was blazingly lit with ceiling panels. Mrs. Murdock was still there, along with Connolly and one other person. Kan-Kon was half leaning, half sitting on the windowsill beside Connolly's desk, his head bowed, fingers stroking his chin in thought. He looked sober, intensely so. He didn't stir for a few seconds after Jael and Ar came in. Then his eyes rose to meet Jael's, and at once darted away again, in embarrassment. She thought she glimpsed a faint upturn of one corner of his mouth.