For Promise Yet Unbroken Page 5

  "Promise," Jeremey called, bracing himself, half expecting the dragon to imitate Putere's maneuver. Instead, Promise made a number of strange trilling sounds and led the train of dragons back to the main gate and out before making for the nearest uprising high enough to glide from. Belatedly, Jeremey remembered the difficulties most dragons had with flying—while Promise probably could have duplicated Putere's trick, the rest of them had to do it the usual way: get to a height and glide.

  Not that Promise was satisfied with gliding. As soon as he was in the air, his wings began to beat, riding the thermals up before winging off toward the downed ship. Afraid they'd lose the others, Jeremey twisted around in his saddle, blinking in astonishment to see every one of them following—even Emmett's Fang, who couldn't even be bribed into flying.

  But he was flying now. Awkwardly, obviously unused to doing so, but flying nonetheless. Even from this distance, Jeremey could see Emmett's expression of utter shock and sympathized. He couldn't imagine what had happened. Had the dragons picked up on the urgency of the mission, or was it something else? His mind flashed back to the sounds Promise had made before they left. Did dragons have their own language?

  There was no time to explore the startling thought, for Promise dove and Jeremey could see the twisted wreckage of Harry's ship. He could also see Putere near one of the jagged holes, though Jack was not in sight. Promise set down next to the piece they'd explored before and scooted close enough that Jeremey could make the jump from saddle to the still-open door. He remained just long enough so that the next riders to land could see where he'd gone, then he headed back into the stygian gloom in search of more survivors.

  *~*~*

  It was past nightfall before they were finally allowed to rest, all persons being accounted for by those whose wounds were minor, and Jeremey wanted nothing more than to fall into bed and sleep for a week. His shoulder felt like it was on fire after the hard use he'd put it to, and Doctor Holliday was so swamped with patients that it wasn't worth hanging around for.

  Still, it had been worth it. They'd rescued fifteen survivors, and from what he'd managed to overhear, the ones who had died had done so in the crash and not because they hadn't been gotten to in time. That, and the fact that they were a long-range Galactic Federation scout ship, was all Jeremey managed to learn before Doctor Holliday threw everyone out. Including Jack. Jeremey was both impressed and slightly envious, but it wasn't like anyone wanted to cross Doc Holliday. Who knew when you might need him? Especially if you were a rider.

  It would have been nice to know how Harry was doing, though. Other than the brief shock he'd gotten from Promise—and really, who could blame him?—he'd held up remarkably well. Jeremey wondered if all Galactic Federation soldiers were like that. Certainly riders who got injured had no problem letting the whole settlement know about it.

  Most of them, anyway. He seriously doubted people would know Charlie was hurt unless he was bleeding, and much as he hated to admit it, Jack was probably the same way. Or maybe you just couldn't tell when Jack was snarly due to injury, since Jack was always snarly.

  Something nudged him in the back, and Jeremey was just tired enough that it was all it took to topple him over into a heap on the floor. He sat up gingerly, wincing as his shoulder protested all over again, and lifted his head to find Promise peering at him.

  "Very funny," Jeremey muttered, swatting the dragon's nose. Promise snorted and nudged him again, knocking him flat on his back with a yelp. "What?" he protested as Promise licked his face. "You've been fed, your bed's clean, quit picking on me!"

  After a few more licks, Promise subsided enough that Jeremey could get to his feet, wiping dragon drool off his face. "Ew. Now I need to take a bath. Thanks a lot."

  He wasn't in the least bit surprised when Promise ignored him in favor of nuzzling his hair and then ambling off toward his stall. Jeremey ran a hand through his loose curls to resettle them, though in all honestly there really wasn't much Promise could have done to make them any worse than they already looked. His hair had long resisted any and all attempts at taming it.

  After retrieving his hat from where it had landed when Promise knocked him over, Jeremey made his way through the stables to the sleeping quarters. He still wanted to just collapse into bed, and for a moment seriously considered it, but he really didn't want his bed smelling like dragon drool until the next time the sheets were changed. Dragons themselves smelled rather nice, sort of like muted spices, but they had horrible breath. Doctor Holliday said it was because of the high concentration of bacteria in their saliva. Jeremey didn't care about the reason; he just knew it smelled foul.

  The bathing room was dark and Jeremey left it that way as he filled one of the big wooden tubs, shucked his clothes, and slid into the water. The heat was blissful, especially once he sank in far enough to submerge his shoulder. Maybe being forced to take a bath wasn't such a chore after all. Certainly his shoulder appreciated it.

  He idly washed his face and as much of his body as he could reach above the water, then leaned back and let himself relax in the soothing heat. It had been a long time since he'd been able to enjoy a good soak; there was little time for idle lounging in the life of a rider, so baths were quick, efficient things. Bathing at Aunt Sue's home had been brief by necessity, with six people and only one bathtub.

  Deadwood Gulch, then, would have been the last time. A lifetime ago, it sometimes seemed. He occasionally wondered what it would be like to go back. Would it feel like home again, or would he be a stranger? Hard to say. Although he wouldn't go anywhere without Promise. He might not know where 'home' was anymore, but he did know that no place could ever be described in such a way if Promise wasn't there.

  With a faint smile for the mischievous dragon, so very much like his own childhood self, Jeremey closed his eyes.

  *~*~*

  The next time he opened them, the water had cooled and he was starting to feel a bit chilled. Jeremey hauled himself up out of the tub and quickly dried off before wriggling back into his clothes. A glance out the window revealed false dawn from the biggest moon; true dawn couldn't be all that much further off. No luck for crawling into bed now, it seemed.

  He slipped down the silent hallway to the barracks, swapping his dirty clothes for a clean set as quietly as he could and waiting until he was back in the hallway to put his boots on. Dressed, he made his way outside before stopping uncertainly. Where to go? It was too early for much of anything, including breakfast. He supposed he could go see Promise, but the dragon had been up as long as he had, and just because Jeremey was up early didn't mean Promise had to be. Still, that left him with remarkably few options.

  This early, the streets were still quiet. A faint breeze was blowing, though it could barely even stir the dust on the ground. Jeremey let his gaze roam idly, noting the various darkened buildings, the soft hum of the fence, the watch riders and their dragons.

  Oh, Doc Holliday's place. He was probably asleep, but maybe Jeremy could check on Harry. He wouldn't even have to wake anyone, just tiptoe in and back out again.

  Decided, Jeremey made his way through the sleeping settlement to Doctor Holliday's clinic, letting himself inside as quietly as possible before heading upstairs to the patient recovery rooms. Normally they saw very little use, as all but riders preferred to recover at home, but today they were all full of the ship's wounded, those who'd escaped with only minor injuries having been taken to the town inn. He found Harry in the third room he checked, face turned toward the window, though his head shifted to blink at Jeremey as he entered.

  "Oh," Jeremey stammered, flushing. "I didn't know you were awake. I'm sorry."

  Harry blinked at him again, then his lips twisted up into a faint smile. "Used to ship time," he stated. "What time is it here?"

  Jeremey glanced out the window, taking in the growing light in the distance and considering. "Hmm, little after eight, I think."

  "Eight?" Harry echoed, frowning at the oncoming dawn. "You u
sing twenty-four-hour days?"

  "Thirty-six," Jeremey corrected with a shake of his head. "Noman's got a slower rotation."

  "Ah." The frown faded as Harry looked Jeremey's way again. "I remember you… Jeremey, right? With the…" He hesitated. "Dragon?"

  "Yeah." Jeremey grinned. "His name's Promise. I guess there aren't any dragons out in space, huh?"

  Harry chuckled softly. "Not like that, no. I've seen a few creatures that could be likened to dragons, but none fit that description nearly so well as yours. Does he breathe fire too?"

  Jeremey blinked. "Fire? No… Are dragons supposed to breathe fire?"

  Harry gave a soft laugh. "The storybook ones, anyway." He shook his head, amused. "Dragons. Real dragons." He flashed Jeremey a smile. "So what else does your planet have? We didn't get a very good look before we went down."

  Dropping into a convenient chair, Jeremey considered. "Umm… we have a lot of things, I guess. None of the original colonists' imported livestock survived, so we manage with the native animals. Our primary protein comes from the fleep herds, supplemented with any fish we find in the rivers. Ike caught a brand-new one last week and they're all arguing over what to name it."

  Harry laughed again, warm and rich, and it caused a funny feeling in Jeremey's stomach. "Sounds fairly normal there," he observed, blue eyes twinkling.

  "Yeah," Jeremey agreed, heat rising to his cheeks. "Deadwood Gulch was the same way. I could never figure out why they didn't just call them Ugly Fish, Uglier Fish, and Really Ugly Fish, you know?"

  Harry doubled over, his shoulders shaking as he laughed. "Oh… were they really that bad?" he asked once he'd subsided enough to speak.

  Jeremey made a face. "Yes. They're even uglier than a rachya, and they don't taste all that good either."

  "Reminder to self," Harry commented with a quirky smile, "don't eat the fish." He grinned briefly, then his brow furrowed. "What's a rachya?"

  "Um." Jeremey hesitated, sobering. How was he supposed to explain rachya to someone who'd never seen one? "Well, they're big. Most of them top three meters. They're covered in a coarse fur and have sharp claws and tusks. The males have horns once they reach adulthood, but the females are faster." He shuddered.

  Harry grimaced. "Sounds nasty."

  Jeremey nodded. "We lose people to rachya every year," he said softly. "More than to caraca or lycodo, though those are dangerous too."

  Harry's blue eyes were wide. "Is there anything here that doesn't try to kill you?" he asked.

  Jeremey laughed quietly. "The fleep… most of the smaller critters… Never heard of a death by fishbite either."

  That startled a laugh out of Harry. "Safe to go swimming, then. Good to know."

  "Ehh." Jeremey wrinkled his nose. "The fish don't bite, but the bugs do. Always plenty of those around the river."

  Harry grimaced. "Ugh. Not a place I'd want to call home."

  Jeremey shrugged. "You get used to it."

  "Maybe." Harry sounded doubtful. "I'd still take any other planet in the Federation if I had to settle down. Mariana, maybe, or Pelor Three. Provided they survive the war, anyway."

  "War?" Jeremey blinked. "What war?"

  Harry stared at him. "The war. The one that's been going on for a good eighty-some years now."

  Jeremey regarded him blankly. "Noman hasn't heard from the Galactic Federation since we landed… and that was a little over eighty years ago. Hmm…"

  Eighty years… and a war so big that it needed no name—everyone already knew what it was. Could that be why Noman had been forgotten, its settlers left to die? The Galactic Federation had much larger problems to deal with than one group of colonists on a planet that preferred them dead, it seemed.

  "Who are you fighting?"

  Harry shook his head slowly. "Hard to believe anyone's not at least heard of the war. We're fighting the Vek."

  "Vek?" Jeremey repeated thoughtfully. It sounded vaguely familiar, like something he might have heard at school when they'd talked about what life was like for people before coming to Noman, but he really hadn't paid much attention in school. Actually, he hadn't often been in school.

  "The Vek Empire?" Harry offered. He sighed when Jeremey shook his head. "You people really are out of touch. The Vek Empire was our ally for a while, until they changed their minds. They're at least as powerful as the entire Galactic Federation. Maybe more so."

  "What made them change their minds?" Jeremey asked, curious.

  "No one knows. There are a lot of different theories, but nothing confirmed. Prisoners recovered from them have been questioned, but… nothing. The Vek prefer to remain a mystery."

  "Huh." Jeremey shook his head. "That's…" He trailed off as a sudden thought struck him. "That other ship… the one that went down with yours. Was that a Vek ship?"

  Harry started. "You saw it go down? Where?"

  "Um. Over the hills kinda south and west of where we found you." Jeremey blinked. "I completely forgot about it! I'd better tell the sheriff…" He stood swiftly, and caught an odd expression in Harry's eyes.

  "You're leaving? The sun's not up."

  Jeremey wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, but Jack'll be more pissed if I wait. Not that he won't be plenty pissed I forgot in the first place." He sighed. "Now he's really gonna hate me."

  "Why would he hate you?" Harry asked, a faint crease between his brows that slid into a smile. "I can't see how anyone could hate you."

  Jeremey laughed sharply. "Oh, you didn't know me growing up; I was a real terror. Spent more time in lockup than any of the grownups. Trust me, it's unusual not to hate me. Jack Sullivan just happens to hate me more than most, which is kinda hard since he's my boss."

  "That's…" Harry frowned again. "Does he really hate you? I've served under a number of superiors whose personalities weren't always ideal, but it usually wasn't anything personal. Just your typical hard-ass commanders."

  "He hates me," Jeremey stated confidently. "He isn't nice to anyone, but he takes special pleasure in chewing me out. It's kinda funny, in a way. The people back in Deadwood Gulch had much more reason to hate my guts, but it's the one I've never pulled any shit with that actually does." He sighed in frustration, pulling his hat off for a moment to run a hand through his hair before replacing it. "Oh well. See you later, Harry?"

  The smile Harry flashed him was bright and cheerful, and made Jeremy's stomach do strange things again. "You'd better. You're the only person I know on this rock. And from what I've seen, the cutest too." He winked, and Jeremey could feel his face heating as his stomach decided to tumble end over end.

  "I… um… I… ah… thanks," Jeremey stammered, backing away until he collided with the door and then groped blindly for the handle. "I'll… um… I'll see you… later… around. Bye, Harry!" He yanked the door open and fled back downstairs and outside, Harry's warm laughter lingering in his ears long after he could no longer hear it.

  There was an odd tightness in his chest and a fluttering in his stomach. Harry's smiles, his laughter, made Jeremey feel something he'd never before experienced. He couldn't identify it, couldn't even describe it, but it made him feel… special. Wanted.

  Safely back on the street, Jeremey took a moment to get his breathing settled before heading out, making his way through the gradually lightening settlement toward Jack Sullivan's spread. As sheriff, he merited his own place, though Jeremey was pretty sure that particular house had been passed down through his family from the legendary Daniel Sullivan. It had an attached stable for Jack's dragon, although it was large enough that it could probably house two or three, and the house itself was just as big. It seemed an awful lot for just one person, but Jack had never gotten around to getting married, much to the ongoing consternation of many of the town's ladies. Jeremey wasn't sure why they cared; certainly he wouldn't want to live with Jack. He could barely handle working with the man.

  Oh well. At least it meant there wouldn't be any witnesses to watch him get chewed out yet again. Hopefully.


  With a heavy heart, he trudged up the front walk of Jack's spread and steeled himself as he approached the door. Just before he got to it, the door suddenly swung open and Jack stepped out, stopping in surprise as he noticed Jeremey. "Jasper? What're you doing here?"

  "There was another ship!" Jeremey blurted out. "Vek or something and there's a war and—"

  Jack cut him off with a swift gesture. "I know." He stepped out of the doorway, forcing Jeremey to take a few steps back. Behind him were two people, a brown man with watchful eyes and a tall black woman. They were dressed normally, although the clothing didn't fit either of them quite right, and Jeremey knew he'd never seen them before. The woman glanced over him disinterestedly, but the man fixed him with a sharp gaze.

  "You saw the Vek cruiser go down?" he demanded. "You know where it landed?"

  Jeremey fought the urge to step back from that piercing look. "Uh, yes… sir?"

  The man turned to Jack. "Then we should depart at once, while there is still a chance they are near the crash site."

  The look Jack shot Jeremey wasn't his usual scowl, but it wasn't exactly encouraging either. If anything, Jack almost seemed… resigned.

  "I'll wake my riders. Your people…"

  "Those that can walk are ready to fight," the man said, cutting him off. "Major, if you would."

  "Sir." The woman made a funny gesture with her hands, then turned and began walking briskly down the street, the braids in her hair swaying with her movement. She wasn't heading for the stable, or the clinic… oh. Probably the inn. If Harry was awake this early, there was a good chance the rest of the people from the ship would be as well.

  Including, apparently, the two who'd been with Jack. Jeremey wondered who they were. Some sort of leaders?

  "Jasper."

  Jeremey started, jerking his gaze away from the woman's retreating back and noticed Jack was watching him. "Sheriff?"

  "Accompany Colonel Brocius to the stables. Ready your dragon. I'll meet you there." Jack nodded once to the man—Colonel Brocius, apparently—before turning and striding crisply for his own stable.