Dragonback 04 Dragon and Herdsman Read Online Free PDF

edge of quiet
annoyance beneath the surface.
    Jack heartily sympathized. Unfortunately, there wasn't a thing he
could do about it. Even before they'd lifted, Alison had spotted the
P/S/8 designation on the computer-interface board and recognized it as
a model with personality simulation capabilities. At that point, Jack
had had no choice but to allow—or rather, insist—that Uncle Virge talk
to her.
    He'd modified his normal voice, of course, going with something
that sounded more like a standard P/S computer than the more colorful
personality Uncle Virgil had left behind. But it was obvious that he
wasn't happy with any of this.
    It was equally obvious he was going to be having a long and
unpleasant conversation with Jack the minute their new passenger was
out of earshot.
    "Extremely cool," Alison said, turning the table transparent one
last time. "Can you access your InterWorld transmitter from here, too?"
    Jack felt his breath catch in his throat. Ships this small, even
luxury models, never had InterWorld transmitters aboard. How could
Alison have guessed the Essenay had one? "What are you talking
about?" he asked guardedly.
    "Don't be cute," she said. "I saw the InterWorld directory tab on
the list when you were pulling up Rho Scorvi's coordinates."
    "A directory ?" Jack repeated, thoroughly lost now. "What
does a directory have to do with anything?"
    "Because the InterWorld directory is part of the InterWorld access
software," she explained patiently. "If you've got a directory, you've
got the software. If you've got the software, you've got the
transmitter."
    "Or my uncle just wants to be able to look up numbers before he
calls them," Jack countered. It was, he thought rather disgustedly, a
pretty weak argument.
    Alison apparently thought so, too. "Right," she said
sarcastically. "Even though every spaceport and planet-based
transmitter has its own directory. But fine. Let's ask. Computer—?"
    "Never mind," Jack cut her off, half-lifting his hands in a
gesture of surrender. The standard P/S/8 computer interface probably
couldn't lie. Uncle Virge could, and in this case probably would, and
the last thing Jack wanted was for Alison to catch him at it. "Yes,
we've got a transmitter."
    "Which is another five or six buckets of cash," Alison concluded,
looking around the dayroom. "I hope you realize just how much money
you're sitting on here, Jack Montana."
    She brought her gaze back to him. " If that's your real
name."
    "Like 'Alison Kayna,' you mean?" Jack asked pointedly.
    Her lip twitched. "Fine. None of my business. So where do I sleep?"
    "You can use my uncle's cabin," Jack said. "It's down the hall on
your left."
    "You're sure he won't mind?" she asked. "I could just sleep here
on the couch."
    "He won't mind," Jack assured her. "Besides, I sometimes like to
get up during the night and have a snack. I don't want to trip over
you."
    "Fair enough," Alison said. "If you don't mind, I'm going to go
sack out for a while. It's been a long and fairly interesting night."
    "Sounds like a plan," Jack agreed. "I think I'll catch some winks
myself after I check the ECHO settings. Help yourself to anything you
want—food or music or whatever. I'll get you some of my clothes, too."
    "Okay," Alison said, heading for the door. "Thanks for the tour.
And thanks for the ride. I appreciate it."
    "I appreciate you getting me out of that cell," Jack said. "See
you later."
    He headed to the cockpit. "She still in her cabin?" he asked as he
dropped into the pilot's chair.
    "She's cleaning up in the bathroom," Uncle Virge said.
    "Okay," Jack said, bracing himself. "Let's have it."
    "Let us have what?" Draycos asked, lifting his head from Jack's
shoulder.
    "The objections, arguments, and how-dare-yous," Jack said. "Mouse
got your tongue, Uncle Virge?"
    "What are you expecting me to say, Jack lad?" Uncle Virge growled.
"That this is as crazy a scheme as you've ever come up with? And given
your record these past three months, that's a high