King's Sacrifice (28 page)

"XJ!"
Tusk growled, casting a vicious glance at the remote. Nola giggled.

"And
finally, well, er—" XJ stammered Its lights dimmed, it
seemed to be having difficulty with its programming. " 'Scuse me
a moment. Technical difficulties." The remote blinked off for a
second, came back on, a slight hitch in its audio. "I'm gonna
say this once and it's a wedding present and I don't ever expect to
have to say it again so listen up. Men-da-ha-rin Tusca ..." The
remote paused, blurted forth rapidly, the words wrenched out of its
electronic guts,
"you'rethebest-damnpilotIeverflewwithandIdon'tcarewhoknowsitandIwish-youandRianallthebestsothere.

"And,"
XJ added, optic lights flaring, "if anyone ever says that I said
that I'll deny it so none of you better. Now hurry this thing up
'cause it's costing me a fortune to run the air-conditioning."

"XJ, that's
really very sweet," said Nola.

"Gosh, XJ."
Tusk cleared a lump in his throat. "I don't know what to say. I
think . . . yeah ... I think I could kiss you—

The remote unit
dropped to the floor with a crash, lights out, wiggling arms still.
"Keep him away from me!" warned XJ's mechanical voice from
its central system, located in the cockpit, "or I swear I'll
shut this party down."

"It's all
right, XJ," said General Dixter, smiling, "I have Tusk
firmly in hand."

"Yeah,
well, you just keep an eye on him, that's all. Kiss me ..."
Bleeping indignantly to itself, the computer lapsed into deeply
offended silence.

Tusk grinned at
Nola and winked. General Dixter stepped forward, placed his hands
over both of theirs.

"Tusk,
Nola, I only want to say one thing. You've been through a lot of
dangers together, you've both laced death together. Now you've got a
much harder task, you've got to face life together. Love each other,
trust each other, respect each other, befriend each other, and you'll
get through it fine. I never had a son or a daughter, but if I did, I
would wish for them now just exactly what I'm wishing for each of
you. May your fives together be blessed."

Nola put her
arms around him, hugged him, and clung to him. "Don't ever say
you don't have a daughter, sir," she said softly, "because
you do now."

"What she
said," Tusk managed to get out, before he lost his voice.

He put one arm
around Dixter's rumpled shoulder, the other arm around Nola and the
three stood together in silence for so long that XJ, not hearing any
action, flickered the lights.

Dion took an
unconscious, involuntary step backward, coming up hard against the
bulkhead. He stared at the three, standing together, as he had stared
at the first alien life-form he'd ever seen. Love, respect, trust,
caring. A bond between two people, a bond that says you are the most
important person in the universe to me. Dion spoke innumerable alien
languages fluently, but he didn't speak this one, the language of
love. He didn't speak it, didn't understand it. He was dark and cold
and hollow inside. He wanted light, warmth. He wanted filled! He
wanted someone to look at him the way Nola looked at Tusk. He wanted
someone to reach out to, someone to laugh with him over silly jokes
that meant nothing to anyone else. He wanted someone to yell at,
fight with, apologize to, make it all up again. He wanted,
desperately, someone to love.

"But how
could I ever be sure of any woman?" he asked himself bitterly.
"I've seen them look at me and they don't see me, they see a
crown. They see pomp and ceremony. They see their children on the
throne. I understand, now, why my uncle never married. I—"

Five points of
searing, burning agony shot into the palm of his right hand. White
heat swept through his blood, bile flooded his mouth, fiery dots
burst before his eyes. Dion thought for a moment that he might pass
out, and he was forced to grab hold of and hang on to the hook from
which Tusk suspended the hammocks.

"Abdiel!"
The name echoed inside him. The heat that had suffused his body died,
leaving him shivering with intense cold. "Abdiel ..."

The
mind-seizer's presence was powerful, terrible laughter running
through the young man's veins. Dion glanced wildly around. He
wouldn't have been surprised to see the old man drop through the
hatch into the spaceplane.

Nothing. No one.

The wedding was
proceeding, Tusk and Nola, voices barely audible, were talking only
to each other, sharing their vows.

Dion felt
suffocated. He had to get out of here. He had to—he knew
suddenly—find Maigrey. He didn't understand what was happening,
but she would. A supreme effort of will kept him standing silently
until the ceremony was over.

Husband and
wife."

Nola ripped the
veil from her head, flung her arms around Tusk. He held her fast,
kissed her. She kissed him. XJ set off the alarm horn and added
whistles and bells and other raucous (and a few rude) noises the
computer had on file. Dion managed to make his way over to them,
gasped out congratulations, and left precipitously.

"I will see
Lady Maigrey!" Dion demanded, bursting out of Sagan's private
elevator.

Agis, standing
in front of the golden double doors, moved to open them. "Yes,
Your Majesty."

A cry came from
inside Sagan's quarters—a cry of despair and rage and a bitter
protest against fate.

"Excuse me,
Your Majesty."

The captain
moved into action swiftly, calling his men to him with a glance.
Firmly, yet politely and respectfully, he elbowed Dion out of his
way, touched a panel.

The double doors
slid open. Weapons drawn, Agis and his men ran into the room. Dion
dashed in after them, thrusting aside one of the centurions who
sought to keep the king safe until whatever danger threatening them
could be determined.

The room was
dark. The only light came from the illuminated dials and buttons on
the command console, the faint lambent glow of the computer, and the
cold, empty light of the stars outside the viewscreen.

"My lady!"
Agis called out, overturning chairs in his haste and worry.

"Over
here," Dion called, drawn to her by shared pain, shared grief,
shared fear.

A black screen,
standing at the far end of the room, hid from view a small altar.
Maigrey, dressed as she had been dressed to attend the wedding, in
royal-blue robes covered by a silver surplice, lay on the deck before
the altar, unconscious.

Dion knelt
beside her, lifted her gently in his arms. Her eyelids fluttered, she
looked up at him.

"Maigrey,"
he said softly, "it's Sagan, isn't it? What's happened? Maigrey,
tell us. . . ."

She stared at
him without recognition. "I, too, must pass through the fire,"
she murmured. Pain contorted her face, and she lost consciousness.

United thoughts
and counsels, equal hope, And hazard in the glorious enterprise.

John Milton,
Paradise Lost

Dion came to
Maigrey's quarters early in the morning.

"You're to
go in, Your Majesty," said the centurion on watch.

Dion glanced
questioningly at the guard, who shook his head.

Entering the
quiet room, Dion looked at the bed, saw that it hadn't been slept in.
He found Maigrey behind the screen, kneeling before the altar, her
head resting in her hands. He kept silent, thinking perhaps she'd
fallen asleep, and was about to withdraw. Maigrey raised her head,
looked at him over her shoulder, through a fine curtain of pale hair.

"No, don't
leave. We need to talk. I've . . . sent for the others."

She started to
stand, fell back. Dion hurried to her, offered his help. She leaned
against him, rose stiffly to her feet. He was alarmed at the chill
feeling of her flesh, the terrible pallor of her skin.

"Have you
been here all night?" he asked, guiding her to a chair.

Dark circles
shadowed her eyes, that were red-rimmed and swollen. Dried blood
flecked her lips, the marks of her teeth plain upon them. Her face
was drawn and haggard, her hair ragged and uncombed, her blue velvet
dress wrinkled and spotted with tears.

"Yes. I
waited for ..." Her voice caught. She shook her head. "No,
I don't want to sit down. I need to walk, start the circulation going
again. My legs have gone numb. There, thank you. I can manage."

Maigrey pushed
Dion's hands away and moved slowly across the deck, rubbing her arms.

"You've
heard nothing?" Dion asked.

She didn't turn
around, didn't look at him. Her head lowered.

"No."

"He's not
..." Dion swallowed.

"He's
alive." She pressed her hand over her breast. "I know that
. . . here. But I can't reach his mind."

"My lady!"
Admiral Aks came through the double doors. "Your Majesty, I'm
glad you're together. We've been monitoring galactic news wires. You
must see what's coming over the vids now."

Aks went to the
console, the screen came on, bringing with it a face and a voice.

"The
self-styled Warlord Derek Sagan, under indictment for the murder of
the Adonian weapons dealer Snaga Ohme, has reportedly eluded capture
and fled to the Corasian galaxy. It is rumored that he has with him
the space-rotation bomb, the awesome weapon designed by the notorious
Snaga Ohme."

"So that's
the story," Maigrey murmured.

"That's
it," Aks said grimly.

The newsman
continued: "It was an argument over this very weapon which
presumably led to the Adonian's murder. Now reports have it that
Derek Sagan, whose ruthless disregard for life and lust for power are
well known, has taken this weapon over to our most feared enemies.

"We switch
now to the Common House, where President Peter Robes has called a
press conference."

President Robes,
wearing a dark and depressing suit, with an expression specially
chosen to match, stood on a broad patch of clipped green artificial
grass.

"I am
shocked at this news," the President was saying, "but not
extremely surprised. Derek Sagan, or Lord Sagan as he demands to be
called, has always considered himself above the laws that govern the
rest of us ordinary people. He assumed he could commit murder with
impunity and he was furious when he learned he was to be called to
account."

Reporters
clamored to be heard. The President nodded at one. The alien spoke
through its translator.

"You said,
Mr. President, that Sagan's fleet is surrounded by our own warships.
How was it that he escaped?"

"Apparently
he had received prior warning of our attempt to bring him to justice.
We have learned that Sagan had in his pay numerous spies who reported
to him every move made by the people's duly elected government
officials. He was not on board his ship when the fleet was
surrounded. Sources indicate that he flew his shuttlecraft to an
obscure planet, there to meet with his cohort, the Lady Maigrey
Morianna. His former lover, she is undoubtedly implicated in his
flight. Warrants have been issued for her arrest."

"Mr.
President! Lord Sagan was a hero in the battle with the Corasians.
Why would he defect to the enemy?"

"As always
with Sagan, he was a hero when it suited his purpose to be one. We
have received several reports, the contents of which we can't discuss
at the moment, which indicate that Sagan may have been in collusion
with the Corasians all along, that die battle was staged for our
benefit to cover up his manufacture of that fiendish weapon, the
space-rotation bomb."

"But, Mr.
President, Sagan himself circulated reports implying that you had
something to do with that attack."

The President
was grieved and mildly exasperated. "I state now as I have
stated in the past, I see no need to dignify those charges with an
answer."

"Mr.
President, what do you think Derek Sagan's intent is, taking the bomb
to the Corasians?"

"What do
you think his intent is, Lizz?" the President asked bluntly.
"Derek Sagan is ruthless, ambitious. The free people of the
galaxy made it clear that they weren't going to give power to him,
and now he's going to take it by force."

"You mean
all-out, full-scale war with the Corasians?" The reporter was
dramatically solemn.

"I don't
want to start a panic, but it has always been my policy to tell the
people who elected me to office and who have put their trust in me
the truth. We must assume that this is what Derek Sagan plans."
The President was calm, but obviously upset. "The Congress has
been called into emergency session to determine what action we will
take."

"You
watching this?" Tusk demanded, entering the room, followed by
Nola and General Dixter. "What the hell's going on?"

"I'll
explain in a moment," Dion told him.

"And now,
before I answer any more questions," President Robes was saying,
"I would like to send a personal message to one young man out
there."

The President
looked directly, intently, and with utmost sincerity into the eyes of
the innumerable cams turned on him.

"Dion
Starfire, I hope you are listening. You are an honorable young man
who has been misguided by bad advice. I truly think that you believe
yourself to be acting for the good of the people in this galaxy. I
hope that is the case. Derek Sagan has proclaimed publicly, more than
once, that he supports your claim to the throne. He has declared,
more than once, his loyalty to you as his liege lord. If you do have
such influence over him, young man, then you have a chance to save
the people of the galaxy.

"Dion
Starfire, if you know where Sagan is hiding, if you can talk to him,
persuade him, then I hope and trust that you will act at once to
alleviate this terrible danger. An ordinary citizen of this galaxy
would do no less. A king would do much more."