aI thought of that.a The wizard looked at him closely and then nodded. aVery well. You are welcome.a aWe,a Kuznetsov said with a gesture at Vasily and himself, awill go with you.a Gilligan scowled. aWhy?a aTechnical expertise. You need someone who knows the areaa"a he glanced at Gilligan significantly aa"and will tell what he knows.a Then he shrugged. aBesides, thumbing your nose at authority is a Russian thing. You would not understand.a Mick shook his head. 'This particular nose-thumbing is gonna get you thrown out of the countrya"or worse.a Kuznetsov grinned broadly. aThat is why it is Russian thing. It is no fun thumbing nose at authority unless you can get in big trouble for gesture.a Then,a Mick predicted, ayou're gonna have more fun than you've ever had in your life. You may even the laughing.a The Russians only grinned.

aOkay, so we've got to get six people and a twenty-foot dragon in there and land on a dry lake bed. That's going to take a pretty special plane.a Vasily, who had been leaning up against the wall spoke for the first time. aI think I know where.a aSo far the buzz is positive.a Mark Toland gestured toward the Hilton suite's window and the Convention Center beyond with a wave of his champagne gla.s.s. aEveryone's impressed and no one's quite sure what we've got.a He smiled broadly. aFUDware at it's finest.a Toland had coined the term FUDware in a speech to an industry conference several years ago and he used it whenever he could. In this case he was justified. Gigantopithecus Softwares pre-pre-beta technology direction disclosure of its new API had sown Fear, Uncertainty and Doubta"FUD to connoisseursa"among potential customers, technology partners, retailers and VARS. FUDware was the equivalent of a rolling artillery barrage on the computer battlefield. Its purpose wasn't so much to cause casualties as to pin everyone down while the attackers moved in for the kill. The software being shown in another suite here at the Las Vegas Hilton was packed with nifty features. Better, it was far enough along that it might be the prelude to a real product. Then again, it might not, and that was better yet.

As a result Sasquatch was performing its intended job of paralyzing the market, exciting the trade press, and making buyers hold off committing to a compet.i.tor and stretching everyone's acquisition cycle.

Keith Malinowski slumped down on the couch and grunted. He was wearing his aSave The Sasquatcha sweatshirt over his hand-tailored sport shirt. His champagne was going flat.

aThe beauty is we caught Microsoft and IBM/Lotus in mid-FUD cycle,a Angela Page, his marketing VP put in. aIt will be at least eight weeks before they can counter with FUDware of their own.a aBut when are we going to release it?a asked Joe Kroeber from the suite's bar. He was head of software development, and pouring the drinks for everyone was part of his job at these things.

aSecond quarter of next year,a Page told him. aIt's in the briefing sheet we use to leak to reporters.a aNo, I mean when are we really going to have it ready?a Page and Toland looked at Kroeber like he'd farted. Malinowski ignored them.

I should have stayed behind and gone sailing, he thought. Three years ago he would have been bouncing up and down like a miniature poodle at an industry coup like this. Now it was flat as his champagne. Even the knowledge that he'd put the screws to Microsoft, his former employer, just didn't thrill him. The millions more this would add to his net worth were even less important.

These days Malinowski thought of himself as a cryptozoologist more than a software entrepreneur. Ever since he was a teenager he had been convinced the planet was teeming with undiscovered animals, from Sasquatch in the Pacific Northwest and as far south as Arizona to dinosaurs in central Africa to serpents in the seas.

The zoologists of his acquaintance thought he was a nut, but that didn't bother him in the slightest. Like a tot of people in the computer industry, Keith Malinowski had spent his whole life being the smartest person in the room, and like most of his fellows the experience left him with a rather high opinion of his opinions.

With his newfound wealth Malinowski also had the ability to back his beliefs with more than on-line arguments. In the last two years he had sponsored expeditions to places all around the world, provided computer and technical support for the people who claimed to have seen something or thought they might have gotten something on film or tape.

The ringing phone at his elbow jarred him out of his ruminations and nearly made him spill his flat champagne. Before he could focus, Toland grabbed it like the well-trained subordinate he was. He listened for a second, then put his hand over the mouthpiece and turned to his boss.

aIt's Al Benedict. He wants to talk to you.a aWho?a aAl Benedict, the guy who's handling on-floor PR. He insists on talking to you.a Malinowski frowned. Jesus, what now? He knew from experience that a call from the show floor usually meant he was going to have to pay out a lot more money. But that didn't bother him as much as having to fight another fire at the behest of someone he didn't even know. There was a time when he knew all his employees by face and name. Now he couldn't even tell which building they worked in. What the h.e.l.l, he decided, it's better than sitting here watching champagne go flat. He nodded and reached for the phone.

aKeith?a The voice on the other end was high-pitched with excitement and nearly drowned out by the combination of background noise and a lousy cellular connection. aIt's me, ALa Vaguely Malinowski remembered a frenetic little fox terrier of a man with a rusty beard and an exaggerated interest in his boss' hobby. aListen, we, uh, ran into something on the show floor.a aYeah?a Keith said flatly.

aNo, not like that. Or not really anyway. This was two guys with a dragon. A real dragon!a Suddenly Keith was like a beagle sniffing on a hot trail. He was up, he was excited, he was alive! FUDware and the eternal Darwinian software struggle paled to insignificance. This was important.

aYou're sure this wasn't some kind of robot?a he demanded.

aIt was definitely real. It's not real tame either. It nearly knocked our guy off his stilts.a aOld Cheng was right! They do still exist. This is fantastic!a aI think it's genetic engineering of some sort,a Keith's informant added, but Keith was gone in transports of ecstasy. Suddenly life had meaning again!

aWe've had reports from remote areas of China.a aYeah, wellaa aThere's even a rumor that a top-secret Air Force project in Alaska got a picture of a dragon in the air a few years ago. But to find one, and here of all places. It's just unbelievable.a By this time Page and Toland had figured out the subject of the conversation and they exchanged looks. aUnbelievablea was the word they would have chosen all right, but obviously their boss did believe it. They had been sounding out major investors about replacing Malinowski for a couple of months because of his diminishing interest in the business and growing weird-ness. If they handled this right it could be the capper for their campaign. Meanwhile, he was still the boss and they had to act like this was important.

aAnyway,a the voice on the phone went on, aI checked and found out more. The authorities have known about it for a couple of days and they're keeping it quiet. Meanwhile, the police are hunting for it.a aThe police?a aYeah. They want to kill it because it's dangerous.a Malinowski unfolded off the couch as if it had exploded under him.

aWe can't let them do that! Angel, get our lawyers on the phone. Joe, use the phone in the other room to call Bill Reeves at Interior. We've got to protect this thing.a aYou really think you can get the government to move on this?a Toland asked.

Keith paused, phone in hand, to look at him. aThey'd better, after all I did for that twit in the White House.a Malinowski had been one of the high-technology business leaders the inc.u.mbent had paraded during the election to support his anew technology vision for Americaa Like a lot of them, Malinowski had been sorely disappointed with the results. After the election they discovered their guy thought high technology meant anything with a lot of blinking lights and he couldn't use his computer consistently because he kept putting floppy disks in upside down. His computer problems got significantly worse after his teenaged daughter went back to school.

aMaybe that dope will be good for something after all,a Malinowski said as he reached for the phone.

The rest of the day pa.s.sed uneventfully, if not smoothly. By dint of a little fast talking, steadfast denial of any knowledge of anyone in the truck and a firm promise to get it off the hotel grounds immediately, Jerry was able to recover the vehicle. By waiting until the hotel corridors were packed with Comdex attendees, shielding Moira in the back of an elevator behind himself, Taj, Bal-Simba, the Russians and Gilligan, and employing a few other expedients, they were able to get Moira out of the hotel and into the truck a few hours later. Then he and Bal-Simba made arrangements to meet Vasily's friend with the airplane that evening and drove off with Moira safely in the back, hidden behind a stack of boxes salvaged from the dumpsters.

Jerry was getting a headache.

They were sitting in a lounge off the casino at the hotel. Perhaps a hundred tables were packed into a s.p.a.ce big enough for fifty. Each table would have been small for two normal people and, while Mick was a little on the short side, Jerry definitely was not and Bal-Simba was huge. As a result things were decidedly crowded. The Russians were sitting at the table just over Jerrys shoulder, and when he leaned back he b.u.mped heads with Kuznetsov. Moira was waiting in the rented truck.

It was early evening and the other tables were mostly occupied. Occasionally a burst of laughter or a s.n.a.t.c.h of conversation would rise over the level of the general racket, but mostly it was just noise with a country-western beat. The band may not have been good, but they fulfilled one of the primary requirements for any lounge act by being loud, almost loud enough to drown out the unrelenting cacophony from the slot machines on the other side of the railing.

aMy head hurts,a he muttered.

aBest place for a private meeting,a Kuznetsov told him. aNoise drives listeners crazy and even digital signal processors have trouble picking out one conversation.a aHow do you know that?a The Russian just smiled. aHeads up everyone. Here comes our contact.a Jerry turned in his seat and saw a man pushing his way through the crowd. Save for bushy white eyebrows and an enormous white mustache there wasn't a hair on his head. He looked like a walrus, if you can imagine a sunburned walrus wearing aviator sungla.s.ses and an orange flight suit decorated with a wildly improbable collection of patches. Jerry saw insignia from everything from the 23rd Fighter Squadron to something called Miz Lai's Cottontail Ranch and Sporting Club. He looked over at Gilligan.

aI don't know and I don't want to know,a Gilligan muttered.

The man nodded to the Russians and pulled a chair over to the table where the others sat. aCharlie Conroy,'a he boomed, extending a paw that was sunburned as pink as the rest of him. aMy friends call me Cowboy.a As Jerry shook the preferred hand he saw the wrist was decorated with a watch the size of a can of snuff, with dials and b.u.t.tons and hands galore.

Almost as soon as Charlie sat down a waitress wearing not much, and that black and slinky, slithered up to take his order.

aHoney,a he boomed, abring me over one of those Tanqueray and tonics. Make it a double.a The waitress reflexively avoided a pat on the rump and swivel-hipped off through the tables.

He turned to the Russians. aVaseline you old commie, how's it hanging?a aOkay, sky pirate. Burned any babies lately?a aNaw, I got out of that end of tie business. How about you, Ivan? Still doing them dirty deeds?a aI get by,a Kuznetsov said with a slight smile. Jerry got the impression he wasn't nearly as charmed by Conroy's antics as his partner. Gilligan was obviously un-charmed, but he was keeping his mouth shut.

ah.e.l.l of a crowd, ain't it?a Cowboy boomed to Jerry and Bal-Simba. aBetween the tourists and the computer geeks, whole d.a.m.n town is packed. I ain't seen anything like it since the fall of Saigon.a The waitress returned with Charlie's drink and Jerry paid for it. Charlie emptied the gin and tonic in one gulp and held up the gla.s.s. Fill'er again will you, darlin'?a Obviously he had never heard of the atwenty-four hours from bottle to throttlea rule either.

aNow,a he said, setting the gla.s.s on the tiny table, aI understand you boys want to make a little excursion.a aYeah,a Jerry said, glancing around the table. aFour of us and, ah, some cargo. About five hundred pounds of it. We need to make one trip to a place about a hundred and fifty miles from here.a aNo problem,a Charlie said. aBut there are some conditions.a He leaned forward and put his meaty forearms on the tiny table. Gilligan grabbed his drink just as it was shoved off the edge.

Their guest was oblivious. aNow understand, I don't smuggle dope. Leastways not for strangers. And I won't stand for murder on my airplane. Beyond thata"a he shrugged. aI don't see nothing and I don't hear nothing.a That, Jerry reflected, was probably going to be the most important characteristic of all.

aWhere are we gonna make pickup and will it be a day or night flight?a aYou can pick us up at the airport,a Jerry said. aDay is probably better than night. It's the destination that's a little tricky.a aWhere you going?a aUh, Groom Lake, Area Fifty-One.a aJust outside inner fence toward the end of runway,a Kuznetsov added, leaning over from his table.

Charlie looked at the Russian narrowly. aThis cargo don't explode does it? 'Cause as a patriotic American and a veteran of four wars I don't hold with blowing up US air bases.a aIt doesn't explode,a Jerry a.s.sured him. Then he thought of the Las Vegas police car. aWell, not unless you get her angry.a aHer?a aThe cargo's kind of livestock.a aI may charge you boys extra for mucking out the airplane. Can this thing be trusted to use a sick sack?a aWell, she's a flying creature anyway,a Jerry said, aso I don't think she's subject to airsickness.a aWhat the h.e.l.l is this critter?a Charlie roared, just as the music ended and there was a lull in the casino racket aA five-hundred-pound canary?a Suddenly half the people in the bar were looking at them.

Jerry turned beet red under the attention. aUh, something like that,a he whispered.

Charlie grinned and leaned back in his chair. aBoys,a he boomed, aI think I'm gonna enjoy this little trip.a Looking at their pilot, Jerry wasn't so sure he would be able to say the same.

FIFTEEN - BIPLANE BYE-BYE.

The morning was bright, cold and crystal clear. The mountains on the other side of the airport looked like they were only a mile away.

When the truck pulled up to the gate on the general aviation side of the field, Jerry and Taj were in the front seat as the least conspicuous of the group. Moira, the Russians, Taj and Bal-Simba were in the back.

The guard came out of the shack huddled in his flight jacket, his breath leaving little puffs in the frosty air. He kept his hands in his pockets until he needed one to hand the clipboard under his arm up to the cab.

There was a sign by the gate informing them that all vehicles were subject to search when entering and leaving. For an instant Jerry was afraid the guard was going to ask to look in the back of the truck, but he only nodded as he retrieved his clipboard.

They'd be more likely to check them on the way out, Jerry decided. But that didn't matter.

Jerry pulled the truck into a parking s.p.a.ce in back of a row of tan metal hangars. Although there were a number of cars in the parking lot, the place looked deserted. Then he remembered that pilots liked to take off at dawn. Those cars probably belonged to people who were already airborne.

Quickly Jerry and Taj rolled up the truck's tailgate. 'Okay- We're here.a aAbout time,a Kuznetsov said as he hopped down. aThe dragon is getting carsick.a Moira followed him out, gulping deep lungfuls of air and looking decidedly green around the gills, even for a dragon. aI am sorry, My Lord. I am not used to riding in closed conveyances and this body is unwell.a aNo harm done,a Gilligan a.s.sured her.

aBut five minutes moreaa aNever mind that,a Jerry cut the Russian off. aLet's go find our ride.a Just at that moment Charlie came around the corner of the hangar wiping his hands on a rag. In the light of day his orange jumpsuit looked even gaudier than it had in the c.o.c.ktail lounge. He saw Moira, did a double take and got his composure back.

aYou folks ready to go?a he asked, staying well clear of the dragon.

aAll set,a Jerry a.s.sured him.

Charlie eyed Moira. aDon't you need a leash for that thing?a I am quite under control, thank you.a Moira said with a sniff.

aHoly s.h.i.t! She talks! Uh, no offense ma'am.a The dragon nodded. aNone taken.a aWell, come on then. I got her ga.s.sed, oiled and pre-flighted. She's right around here.a Charlie led them around the hangar and pointed proudly. Although the ramp was occupied by the usual gaggle of Pipers, Cessnas and Mooneys it was obvious to all of them what he was pointing at.

It was a biplane. A very big biplane with an enclosed cabin, a radial engine and a dull-green paint job. Next to the civilian registration numbers on the body was a large red star. aAN-2 Colt,a Charlie announced proudly.

aThat's a Russian plane!a Gilligan almost shouted.

aThis one's Polish, actually,a Charlie told him. aDesign's Russian though.a Mick groaned. aWe're going to fly into a restricted area in a Russian plane.a He looked over at Kuznetsov. aWhy -didn't you get us a Mig 29 escort while you're at it?a aNo Mig 29s in town until air show next week,a the Russian deadpanned. aBesides, we cannot get dragon into a Mig 29.a Mick just shook his head and turned away.

aBe reasonable, Mick,a Kuznetsov said. aThere are not many planes that can carry all this and still land in dirt.a aReasonable?a Gilligan yelped. aYou're asking me to be reasonable?a aIvan's right,a Charlie said cheerfully. aThese babies were made for hauling cargo in and out of rough fields. She'll land on a dime and give you back a nickel's change.a aBesides, I don't think we've got much choice,a Jerry said. aThere's no time to find another plane and we're probably going to have company faster than that.a Gilligan looked at the others and his shoulders slumped. That thing's got a radar cross-section like a bam door.a Charlie grinned appreciatively but Gilligan just snorted. aWhat about you?a he asked Charlie. aAre you gonna come all the way?a aThey don't have airplanes in this place?a Charlie asked.

aNo,a Jerry told him. aJust dragons.a aDragons, h.e.l.l!a He nodded to Moira. aUh, no offense ma'am but it don't sound like my kind of place. I'll just drop you folks off.a He took a map from tie leg pocket of his flight suit and unfolded it on the ground, nailing a corner of it with his knee.

aOkay,a he said as the others gathered around, aour best shot is to head north to about here.a He stabbed a finger down on the map. Then we drop to minimum alt.i.tude, pop over that ridge and run straight for the target.a aHow fast can they intercept us?a Jerry asked.

aFast,a Kuznetzov put in. aOnce they see us, first fighters arrive in three point five minutes.a Gilligan looked at the Russian oddly, but he was oblivious.

aNow the way I figure it,a Charlie went on, awe can get to this place with, oh, two-three minutes to spare.a He looked at Gilligan and his friends. aBut son, this dingus of yours had better work because there's no way in h.e.l.l we are gonna get back out.a aHow are you going to explain this?a aSimple. I'll tell them I was drunk and I did it on a bar bet.a He smiled broadly. aNo way in h.e.l.l they won't believe me. You people were just sightseers who were along for the ride. You didn't know what I was gonna do until I did ita aYou know you're going to lose your license over this.a The old man's grin faded. aSon, I'm gonna have to give it up when I take my physical next month anyway. When this is over I'll move to Costa Rica or someplace where they don't have all these p.i.s.sant rules for pilots.a There was also an excellent chance he would go to jail, but Gilligan didn't mention that.

aDon't worry, it will work out.a He glanced over Gilligan's shoulder toward the rear of the plane. aAs long as that talking lizard isn't around. I'm a good bulls.h.i.tter, but I'm not that good.a That's okay,a Jerry told him. aShe won't be there when the cops arrive and neither will we.a aWell, let's do it people,a Charlie said. aI hear sirens and I don't think they're fire engines.a He looked at Gilligan. aYou take the right-hand seat with me. The rest of you get in the back.

That ground isn't that smooth,a Gilligan said as Charlie refolded the map. aWe're gonna land pretty rough.a aNahh, don't worry,a Charlie said. They built these things in a tractor factory.a aActually tank factory,a Kuznetzov told him. Tractor factory was cover story.a The sirens were getting closer. Jerry looked back toward where the truck was parked.

aNow what?a Kuznetsov demanded.

aI was just thinking. We really should turn the truck back in. Or at least call them to tell them where they can pick it up.a aJerry.a aYeah?a aShut up and get in the d.a.m.n plane.a As Jerry scrambled aboard and Vasily slammed the door behind him, Charlie reached down and hit the starter. The big Kuznetsov radial chuffed two or three times as compressed air from the starter tank turned it over. Then one cylinder caught and fired, then two more and then the aircraft was filled with the roar of the engine.

Slowly, the plane turned out of its tie-down spot and started down the taxiway. Charlie used the rudder pedals to wiggle the nose from side to side so he could make sure the way was clear. From instinct Mick swiveled his head to check for possible interference. The older man was talking into his headset, obviously communicating with the tower, but Mick couldn't make out the words over the engine.

They reached the turn-in and Charlie ran up the engine while standing on the brakes, scanning the gauges as he did so. Satisfied, he backed off on the throttle and turned the plane onto the runway.

aOkay folks, here we go,a Charlie bellowed over his shoulder and shoved the throttle forward again. The engine noise rose to a crescendo and the big biplane began to gather speed. Out his side window Mick could see a couple of police cars coming out onto the field with their red and blue lights flashing.

If those d.a.m.n police cars don't interfere, he thought.

It occurred to Mick, who hadn't had so much as a parking ticket since he sold his sports car, that he was now involved in about half a dozen felonies. He found it was an odd sensation. He also realized he didn't much care, not if it got him back to Karin and a place where magic and dragons ruled the skies.

The police never had a chance. In what Mick thought was a suicidally short distance, at what he was sure was an insanely low airspeed, Charlie hauled back on the wheel and the plane swooped into the air, hanging on the big prop. Lift and thrust battled drag and gravity and for a stomach-churning instant Mick was sure gravity would win. Then the plane seemed to find itself, steadied, and began to climb like a contented cow on a hilly pasture. Now the only way to stop them was to shoot them down, Mick thought.

Then he remembered that could very easily happen.

SIXTEEN - LORD OF THE FLIES AND THE LORD OF THE FLIERS.

It was the flies, Peter Hanborn told himself. I'm being punished for the flies.

He was a thin, serious man with intent brown eyes behind heavy spectacles. He was not yet thirty but his increasing baldness made him look ten years older. Just now he felt about a hundred years older.

Well, d.a.m.n it, an endangered species is an endangered species. And the Southern Nevada Garbage Fly was certainly endangered. He still didn't regret his attempt to get the fly listed under the Endangered Species Act, despite the hundreds of editorials, two Congressional inquires and thousands of angry letters which had deluged his department as a result. To this day he didn't accept the taxonomists' opinion that his proposed endangered species was really just a sub-population of ordinary house flies with a slightly different distribution of characteristics as a result of generations of breeding in a landfill in the middle of the desert.

But that didn't mean he was looking forward to this. He glanced over at McWilliams, the government's counsel for the pet.i.tion. The older man seemed as cool and unruffled as if this were an ordinary case instead of this, this travesty. At least I had solid population data when I made my proposal, Hanborn thought. This thing wasn't even supported by a headline in the National Enquirer.

Not mat there wouldn't be headlines in the Enquirer, not to mention the Weekly World News and every fringe publication from here to London. Twisting around to look at the half-dozen spectators on the hard wooden benches he wondered which of them was the stringer for the tabloids.

The state was opposing the motion, naturally. They considered it such an open-and-shut case they sent their newest attorney, a kid named Sculley, to handle it. It didn't help that Sculley looked and acted like Jimmy Olsen from the old Superman comics.

Hanborn was so sunk in his own misery he missed the bailiff entering the courtroom and had to scramble awkwardly at his announcement.

aAll rise. Court is now in session. The honorable Judge Margaret Schumann presiding.a Judge Schumann was a tall, slender woman with iron-gray hair and a demeanor to match. aBe seated.a It had to be Maximum Mazie, Hanborn thought miserably as he sagged back in his seat. Now there was a very real possibility he would not only be a laughingstock, he would go to jail as well. He slumped even further until he was almost sitting on his shoulder-blades.

Judge Schumann was oblivious. aCounsel ready?a she asked, flipping through her copy of the pet.i.tion. Both lawyers rose and nodded. aLet's begin then. Now the government,a she gestured at McWilliams, awants an injunction to protect a new and possibly endangered species. The state opposes, is that correct?a aIt is, your honor,a Sculley said. aWe feelaa aWe'll get to what you feel in a minute, Mr. Sculley.a She kept her attention on McWilliams. aDoesn't the Endangered Species Act have provisions for emergency listing of a species?a aIt does your honor,a McWilliams said, abut we are asking for protection for this animal until the emergency provisions can be invoked. We have reason to believe that the few surviving members of the species, perhaps the entire remnant population, is in immediate and dire danger.a aYour honor,a Sculley cut in. aThe state contends that if this animal does in fact exist there is absolutely no evidence to show that it is ent.i.tled to protection under the Endangered Species Act. Further, the thing, if it exists, is dangerous and the state must be able to protect its citizens.a Judge Margaret (Maximum Mazie) Schumann hadn't made it to the federal bench without a finely tuned set of antennae. These endangered species cases were tricky. They usually meant someone was trying to build something someone else didn't like. In Las Vegas, where development was nearly as big an industry as gambling, that usually meant a lot of money was at stake. It was even worse when you were asked to issue an injunction for an animal that wasn't even officially listed as endangered. Besides which she recognized the clown sitting beside the government's lawyer as the nut who tried to get the flies at the local landfill declared an endangered species.

aSomeone trying to build a golf course?a aNo, Your Honor. The species is being hunted to possible extinction by the Las Vegas police.a aWhat is this thing? King Kong?a A couple of spectators chuckled.

aIt's, uh, a reptile,a the plaintiffs council said. He looked at his Fish and Wildlife expert for support.

aA large reptile,a Hanborn added miserably.

For the first time the judge looked interested. aWhat kind of reptile?a aUh, if Your Honor will just read Exhibit A attached to the pet.i.tion you'll find a description.a Judge Schumann flipped through the doc.u.ment Reptile, large, species unknown. Wingsa Maximum Mazie Schumann jerked her head up and slammed her gavel down. aCourt's in recess.a She glared down at the counsels' tables. aI want to see the parties in my chambers. Now.a Mazie Schumann had started out as a dancer in the Las Vegas shows. While she was strutting it by night she went to college by day and then to the University of Nevada law school. When she graduated she traded feathers and beads for a gray wool suit and a job with the Clark County District Attorney's Office. Thanks to her abilities, drive and political skill she eventually wound up on the Federal District bench. If she was not a towering legal scholar, she was smart, politically savvy, and a hard-boiled no-nonsense judge who retained a streak of the theatrical. The media loved her, lawyers respected her, criminals feared her and n.o.body, but n.o.body, trifled with her.

Just now Maximum Mazie felt she was being trifled with.

aNow,a she demanded as soon as her clerk closed the door to her office. aWhat the h.e.l.l is this? A publicity stunt for a casino?a aNo, Your Honor,a McWilliams said smoothly, ait's not a publicity stunt. It'saa ac.r.a.p,a Judge Schumann finished. aThat's what this is. Mr. McWilliams, do you know how long it takes to bring a civil case to trial in this district?a McWilliams knew almost to the day, but he also knew when to shut up and take his licking. aNo, Your Honor.a aNearly two years. Two blessed years to get a serious case to trial and you come marching in here wasting this court's time with c.r.a.p. I know a load of c.r.a.p when I see it And this,a she said, tapping the pet.i.tion with a blood-red fingernail, ais prime-cut, table-grade c.r.a.p.a aPrecisely, Your Honor,a Sculley said. aThat has been the state's contentionaa aDon't gloat, counselor. You're as much a part of this as they are.a Sculley went from gloating to wilting in one smooth transition.

Judge Schumann c.o.c.ked an eye at McWilliams. aAnything from the pet.i.tioner?a McWilliams was more experienced than Sculley and he knew when to keep his mouth shut Hanborn shrank into his chair and devoutly wished he was somewhere, anywhere, else.

aAll right I'm going to grant this pet.i.tion. That makes it a matter of public record. And I wouldn't be at all surprised if the newspapers don't get hold of this.a She glared at Hanborn and McWilliams. aAs a judge I can't comment on the matter to the media. That means you two will have to explain this pile of horseapples to the taxpayers.a Sculley shifted in his chair. aAh, Your Honoraa aMr. Sculley, you are trying my patience. That is the second time today and no one has ever done it a third time. Now get back out there, all of you, and let's get this farce over with.a They were still in the traffic pattern when Charlie got a radio call that obviously displeased him. He reached over to the microphone jack and wiggled it firmly. aSay again tower, you're breaking up. Over.a Thanks to Charlie's fiddling the transmission was nicely garbled.

The old pilot chewed his mustache for an instant as he listened to the transmission, then he reached down and switched off the radio. ap.i.s.sants,a Charlie yelled to Mick.

Charlie did not waste a lot of time gathering alt.i.tude. While they were in the tower's control zone he made a pretense of staying above the FAA minimums. As soon as they were beyond visual range of the tower and over the open desert he pushed the wheel forward.

As an ex-fighter jock, Mick Gilligan was a member of the high-and-fast school of flying. Charlie, on the other hand, belonged to the alow and slowa school. Gilligan had no objection to flying lowa"within reason. But he considered having to pull up to get over barbed wire fences decidedly unreasonable. A couple of times Gilligan saw puffs of dust where the Colt's wheels had touched the ground. After that he tried not to look.

Back in the cabin the other pa.s.sengers had their own problems. Flying sideways is unsettling, the noise and vibration were terrible, and the humans were sharing the s.p.a.ce with a dragon who'd never been in an airplane before.

Fluffy didn't get airsick, but he wasn't a very good traveling companion. Although he was too young to fly the dragon had the reflexes of a flying creature, which meant he kept trying to use his body to control his aflight.a Moira tried valiantly to keep the body under control, but with very mixed success. Every time the plane lurched, Fluffy instinctively tried to spread his wings. After being smacked in the face a couple of times, the occupants of the seats learned to duck when the plane lurched.