Ghost Legion (51 page)

Meanwhile, Garth Pantha arrived in Otos 4 in secrecy, under the
protective cloak of the dark-matter creatures. He arranged for the
entire population to be taken out of the city, again by the
machinations of the creatures.

When the vapor-breathers landed, they found Otos 4 completely
deserted. Not a living soul left. A billion people gone without a
trace. Of course, no one believed the vapor-breathers. The galaxy
assumed that Rylkith had destroyed all the humans in the city, which
led to war.

Now, after all these years, Maigrey realized that Rylkith had been
telling the truth.

"How many thousands died in that war for nothing?" she
asked herself.

The deaths did not trouble Garth Pantha. The war was a perfect cover
for his recruiting, as were all disasters, man-made or otherwise. The
battleships that disappeared without a trace, the cruise ships in
distress who were never heard from again, the planets whose suns were
about to go nova. The people were all snatched from die jaws of
certain death, whisked here, to this peaceful and beautiful—if
strange—world.

Of course, they paid a price. They were not permitted to leave
Vallombrosa, nor to have any contact whatsoever with the galaxy
outside their world. And they could not live on the plan-et's
surface, but were forced to reside in space stations which they
either built or "acquired" from other planets.

Pantha had once tried to place people on Vallombrosa itself. But it
proved far too difficult for any species made of solid matter to
accustom itself to living long with those made of strange dark
matter. The only people who lived on the planet's surface were those
who worked in the alcazar, and they had to be rotated on a frequent
basis for the sake of their own sanity.

But such minor inconveniences as living in a closed and artificial
environment were infinitely preferable to the certain death these
people had faced, and most were content to obey Pantha's laws. Any
who were not content were removed by the dark-matter creatures.

To give Pantha credit—and later Flaim, when he grew old enough
to take over the rule of Vallombrosa himself—he used this sort
of drastic punishment sparingly, and then made generous reparations
to the affected families. Those the prince removed were generally
troublemakers, not particularly well liked anyway. And, as time
passed, such removals grew fewer, were no longer needed.

Prince Starfire had the charisma of the Blood Royal, the charm of the
Starfires. His people came to revere and respect him. They were
wholly committed to his cause. Maigrey, who had hoped to find cracks
of discontent, rebellion, was disappointed .

Dion Starfire was spoken of as the usurper. Flaim Starfire was known
to be the true king.

Again and again, despite herself, she questioned Sagan's motives.
"Why bring Dion here? The risks he runs are very great. If he
should fail ..."

Is that it, my lord? Do you want him to fail?

She refused to let herself consider that possibility. She had faith
in him, if no one else did. But her faith brought her no peace.
Instead, she spent the days and nights wandering the alcazar, a
restless spirit, the perfect spy, gaining valuable information she
could never put to use.

The dark-matter creatures were the true danger, the true threat—but
then Sagan already knew that. Flaim's military might was impressive.
It was certainly not sufficient to conquer a galaxy, however. If it
weren't for the dark-matter creatures, he'd be just another
planet-popping dictator, gobbling up territory, making life miserable
for his neighbors.

The creatures were a powerful ally, but a capricious one. This was
something Maigrey discovered, wondered if Sagan knew. The creatures
acted out of no loyalty to Flaim. Maigrey doubted if the creatures
even understood the prince's ambition, or cared about it one way or
the other. She guessed that anyone who possessed the ability to
communicate with the creatures could elicit their services, though
what the creatures' motives might be in serving was unclear to her .
. . and apparently to Garth Pantha as well.

It was, Maigrey thought with a certain grim amusement, like trying to
fathom the mind of God.

Pantha and Flaim were discussing this very subject one day. The two
generally spent their evenings alone together in one of the
upper-level rooms of the alcazar known as the Hall. The room, with
its weirdly canting stone walls, its oddly sloping stone ceiling, was
large and spacious and chill. A huge wood-burning fireplace located
at one end provided the only heat.

Those who lived and worked in the alcazar were subject to primitive
living conditions. No central heating, no electricity, no modern
conveniences of any type—apparently. Maigrey soon discovered
that, like so much else about the bastard prince, the medieval
life-style was a facade. Not a light bulb in the place, but the
alcazar was fitted up with a sophisticated electronic surveillance
system that would have brought tears of pride to the eyes of the late
Snaga Ohme.

A secret inner room, located far below the alcazar—adjacent to
the dungeons—was equipped with nuclear generators. Their power
ran the surveillance system, which spied on all Flaim's employees and
visitors, as well as a communications network, keeping Flaim in
contact with the outside galaxy. Much of the equipment in the
communications room was old and outdated, having been salvaged from
Pantha's spaceplane. Here, Flaim had grown to manhood, watching the
rest of humanity on a video screen.

Small wondeir, thought Maigrey, that he knew them only as
two-dimensional forms who could be shut off or turned on with a wave
of the remote.

This night Pantha and Flaim were discussing Flaim's future rule of
the galaxy, discussing it in cool, matter-of-fact terms as a done
deed, brushing off Dion as they might brush a drop of blood off the
royal throne.

"You realize, my prince," Pantha was saying, "that the
dark-matter creatures cannot be trusted. I would not be so quick to
include them in your plans, nor make any plans dependent on them."

"I am perfectly aware of that," Flaim returned impatiently.
"How could I be otherwise? You remind me of it daily! But I see
no harm in figuring the creatures into my plans. They have served me
in the past. Why should they not continue to serve me in the future?
Besides, by then I will have the space-rotation bomb—"

"Which the creatures could easily destroy."

"They've agreed not to. Besides"—Flaim shrugged—"if
they do, you will build another. You have already discovered the
theory behind it. You need only examine the bomb itself to figure out
how it works. At least so you've told me.

"At any rate, by that time I will be fully established on the
throne, my other allies in place. You see, my friend, I am not
totally dependent on the creatures. I merely plan to take advantage
of their incredible powers, if they are still around."

Allies? Maigrey asked, suddenly intensely interested. What other
allies?

Her question was not immediately answered. The fire was dying, the
room growing darker and colder. Flaim rose from his chair. Grabbing a
log, he tossed it on the glowing embers, stirred them up. The prince
was accustomed to performing such menial tasks himself. There were no
servants in the alcazar, only a person to do the cooking, and even
then Flaim often decided to fix his meals himself. Garth Pantha had
not pampered the boy. The man had raised Flaim to be self-sufficient,
and it was well he did. People were a precious commodity on this
world. The living on Vallombrosa had far more important tasks to
perform than waiting hand and foot on His Royal Highness.

Pantha drew his heavy chair closer to the fire, warmed his gnarled
hands at the brightening blaze.

"What allies?" Maigrey repeated, frustrated.

Flaim turned suddenly, advanced toward the back of the room. "I
heard you," he shouted. "Where are you?
Who
are
you?"

"My dear boy!" Pantha was staring at Flaim in astonishment.

"What are you? Where are you?" Flaim demanded.

He walked into the back part of the large room, into the shadows. His
blue eyes glittered; his gaze darted into every corner. He was not
frightened so much as irritated, annoyed.

Maigrey held perfectly still. She had no idea what was happening or
why. She had no notion how he knew she was here. He had earlier
evinced awareness of her presence—in his tent in the forest—but
she had discounted that incident, attributed it to an overactive
imagination. Now she was forced to reconsider.

"I have heard you speak before now. I have seen you. I know you
are here!" Flaim was starting to grow angry.

Pantha had risen to his feet, was regarding his young friend in
concern. "Flaim, I assure you, we are quite alone—"

"No, my friend." Flaim stood in the center of the room, his
hands on his hips, waiting. "We are
not
alone. I cant
believe you haven't heard it! A woman's voice, low-pitched ... and
familiar. I swear I've heard it before .. . the vids, I think ... the
old ones. Damn! Why can't I place it?"

"I've heard nothing," said Pantha. "Perhaps the
creatures—"

"Not them! I've known them and their ways since childhood. This
is different. It's like a bug, buzzing in my ears. There now."
Flaim paused, listening. "The voice is silent. Yes, you hear
me,
don't you, Lady?" he said to Maigrey, staring right at her. "Why
won't you let me see you?"

"Or perhaps you're not permitted to do so," Flaim
considered, his anger cooling. "Perhaps you are under some
constraint. Forgive my hasty speech." He made a low bow. "I
thank you for your attention, Lady, and bid you consider yourself a
welcome guest in my house."

Laughing, he turned away.

Maigrey, considerably alarmed and perplexed, retreated to the darkest
comer of the room, far from the fire's light, and even there she did
not feel safe. Though Flaim resumed his chair and his conversation,
his gaze occasionally swept the area, searching for her, aware that
she had not left.

Blood Royal, she said to herself. But who could have supposed? . . .
Yes, he knows me. Though he doesn't realize it yet. Pantha's old
vids—those made of Sagan and me, when we were young. Flaim has
watched them over and over again, studied them. And then later, vids
taken when we were with Dion. . .. That's how you know me, Your
Highness.

Now even Garth Pantha was glancing about nervously. "I must
confess, you've unnerved me, my prince."

Flaim appeared amused. "In the Valley of Ghosts, we must expect
ghosts, my dear friend"

"As a scientist, I can't accept that. And as a self-proclaimed
atheist, neither should you."

"A belief in spirits does not necessarily imply a belief in any
all-powerful being. Take the example of the fire. These ashes—
they are dead to all appearances, the wood consumed, destroyed. Yet,
hold your hand over them. You can feel warmth, energy still. I find
it impossible to think that the boundless energy burning inside me
will not outlast this frail shell of a body."

"A rather farfetched theory, my prince," said Pantha,
relaxing, smiling. "I consider this my fault. I should have
never indulged your penchant for horror stories as a child. This
comes of too many hours spent reading H.P Lovecraft. You say you
recognize the voice. Not your mother, perhaps?"

"Have your joke, my friend. It is
not
my mother. I never
heard my mother's voice and, I tell you, this voice is almost as
familiar to me as your own. I can't place it yet. But it will come to
me. She is silent now. I trust I haven't frightened her away."

"That would be a switch!" Pantha grinned broadly. "For
the living to frighten the dead! I do not think—"

What he did not think was to remain unknown. An attractive woman had
appeared in one of the large, open doorways. She stood silently,
waiting to be noticed, waiting for permission to enter.

Pantha, seeing her, bit off his remark. Flaim motioned her to come
forward with a graceful wave of his hand and the invariably charming
smile.

"Enter, please, Captain Zorn."

She entered, handed him a sheet of paper. She wore the same uniform
that was standard on Vallombrosa, a one-piece jumpsuit which
emphasized her slim and elegant figure.

Maigrey, thankful for the interruption, was paying little attention.
She was thinking that it might be best to leave the alcazar. If Flaim
figured out who she was, the knowledge might make him distrustful of
Sagan. Or might it have the opposite effect? Egotistic as he was,
Flaim might convince himself she'd come from the nether regions to
serve him. She was pondering the matter when she noticed an
interesting tableaux being played out in front of her.

Garth Pantha was regarding Flaim with marked curiosity, a curiosity
that was almost eager, anxious, apparently occasioned by the entrance
of Captain Zorn. Maigrey began to pay closer attention.

The woman was standing close, very close, to the prince. She had
handed him a message, which he was perusing. A brief message,
apparently, for he glanced up at her almost immediately, smiled
again.

"Thank you, Captain. That will be all."

The woman bowed, turned on her heel with military precision, and left
the room. But both Maigrey and Pantha had seen the ardor with which
Captain Zorn regarded Flaim. And both had noticed the disappointment
on her lovely features when she left. That disappointment was
reflected on the face of Garth Pantha.

Flaim had been rereading his message. He looked up. "You will be
interested in this. It is from Derek Sagan. It says—" He
stopped, perplexed.
"Now
what's the matter? Oh, I see.
That
again."

"She is a lovely woman."