King's Sacrifice (48 page)

Removing his
weapons hand, the cyborg cracked open a plate in the cybernetic leg,
snapped the weapons hand back into its place, removed another hand
whose fingers were far smaller, with intricate jointing, designed for
working with delicate precision and skill. He snapped that hand on
his wrist, returned to the hatch.

Maigrey offered
to help Tomi stand.

The captain
refused, sullenly, pulled herself up by hanging onto the chair. She
saw out of the corner of her eye, the young man, Brother Daniel,
watching. His face had gone white, he looked shocked and upset.

Good. Very good.

"Are you
all right, Captain?" Maigrey asked.

"Yeah, your
meat isn't damaged!" Tomi said bitterly, rubbing an aching jaw.
"What's with the water supply? You drugging it?"

Maigrey nodded.
"We can't have the passengers and crew causing us trouble.
You'll be in a state of hibernation—we want the meat delivered
fresh, of course; the Corasians won't buy frozen goods."

"I'll stop
you," Tomi said softly, her black eyes fixed on the woman's gray
ones. "If it's the last thing I do, I'll stop you."

"Oh, I
don't think so," said Maigrey. Lifting a canteen from its place
on a belt at her waist, she tilted it to her lips, took a long drink,
lowered it, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Sooner
or later, Captain, you're bound to get thirsty."

And I had done a
hellish thing . . .

Samuel Taylor
Coleridge,
The Rime of the Ancient Mariner

Maigrey sat on
the bridge of the
Galaxy Belle,
staring out into the black
gulf beyond, the Void that separated their galaxy from the galaxy of
their enemy. No stars. Nothing, except the occasional atom, drifting
through the vastness.

Inside, she was
like that Void. Black, empty, nothing. She was transporting a
thousand innocent people to what would undoubtedly be horrible
death—for she admitted to herself, the odds of this plan
working were very slim—taking them to be placed, literally, in
a Corasian meat locker, and she felt nothing.

"My lady."
Brother Daniel's voice, softly respectful.

Maigrey was
vaguely aware of the priest standing before her, a tray of food in
his hand. She shook her head.

"My lady,"
he said, gently chiding, "you must eat."

"Eat."
Maigrey shivered. "Have you ever seen Corasians eat, Brother
Daniel? I have. Corasians—themselves energy— feed off
energy, feed off humans, aliens, trees, any living energy-rich
being."

Daniel, face
pale, sat down beside her, laid his hand on her arm. "My lady,
don't do this to yourself—"

Maigrey turned,
looked at him, the gray eyes seeming to reflect the Void. "Or
maybe it will be worse than that." Her gaze left him, shifted
back to the black gulf. "The Corasians need slaves to work for
them in their factories, building ships and planes capable of
carrying them across the Void and into our galaxy. And as you work,
you know in your heart that you are developing the tools that will
soon enslave others. But not to work is punished most horribly."

"You're
only tired, my lady. You haven't slept—"

"He's
dying, Daniel."

The young priest
caught his breath. The hand on her arm involuntarily tightened its
grip. "Who, my lady?" he asked in a low voice, though he
knew the answer well enough.

"I can't
put it into words or define it or even make logical sense of it. A
man can sit on the shore of an ocean for hours on end, watching the
tide go out, but it recedes so slowly and imperceptibly that he is
rarely conscious of the fact. Only when he looks down at the wet sand
at his feet and realizes that, hours before, water stood in deep
pools or lapped gently on the shore, is he aware of the change. I
look into myself, Brother, and see nothing but a long stretch of
empty sand."

"The
mind-seizer—" Brother Daniel began.

"No, I
sense Abdiel's fury, his helplessness and frustration. Knowing Sagan
as he does, he had not foreseen this possibility. He assumed that
Derek was the same driven, ambitious man that he was in his youth.
Abdiel couldn't know of the changes that have come to my lord since
that time. Sagan is giving up," she added simply. "He is
using death to flee his enemy."

"My lord
would never do such a thing," Brother Daniel said. "To take
one's own life is to commit a terrible sin."

Maigrey smiled
sadly. "If it was Abdiel alone my lord fought, you are right. He
could hold out, withstand whatever torture the mind-seizer inflicted
on him. But Sagan's true battle is against himself. The only way he
can win that battle is to lose, and he prefers to simply withdraw
peacefully from the field of contest.

"And what
will I do, Brother Daniel?" Maigrey's voice was laden with pain.
"I must confront him, halt his retreat, drive him back to the
battlefield, force him to fight—a fight he can't possibly win,
a fight that will leave him irreparably damaged, inflict wounds that
will never heal. I will do this to him and then I will leave him,
leave him to struggle on alone."

She stared out
again into the eternal darkness. Her eyes burned. No tears would come
to bring comfort.

"One is
never alone with God—"

"Do you
believe in Sagan's dream, then, Brother Daniel? Do you believe such
is our fate and that we cannot alter it? If so, what makes the
Creator better than a puppet master, and we poor mortals nothing but
His toys?"

"I've heard
you say, my lady: 'I have no choice.' But that isn't precisely true,
is it? You've been given choices. Right or wrong, you've chosen to
follow one path over another. And now consider this, my lady. If God
chooses to shine His light on a path that would ordinarily be dark,
couldn't it be that He is trying to show the way?"

Or trying to
prevent it, Maigrey was about to reply when they were interrupted by
Agis and Xris returning from an inspection of the engine room.

"All is
well, my lady," Agis reported. "This ship is quite capable
of making the Jump to the other galaxy. Fjiel supply is more than
adequate to take us there—"

"And
return?" Maigrey asked, coming back briskly to the problems at
hand.

"It will be
close, but I trust His Majesty's armada will carry its own fuel
supply. When this ship joins the fleet, it can refuel at that time."

Maigrey's ironic
smile twisted the scar on her face. "Of course it can. What
about engineering? Can you and your men take over?"

"No
problem," Xris answered. "The engines are in good shape.
Better than usual for these tubs. This captain runs a tight ship."

Maigrey nodded.
"Satisfactory. Did you warn your men not to drink the water?"

"Yes, my
lady. We provided them with their own supply." Agis crossed
over, took a seat beside her. "Shall I prepare for the Jump, my
lady?"

"Yes, and
send the signal to His Majesty. I've input the code and the
destination. All you have to do is transmit. When you've finished
that, pass the word for Sparafucile and Raoul."

"Yes, my
lady."

Agis set about
his task. Xris, having acquired the parts he needed from the
electrical room, returned to his work, attempting to fix the door.
Maigrey shifted in her chair, stared back out into empty space.

Brother Daniel
folded his hands, sought to pray. But the simple gesture of clasping
his hands together reminded him that he had his own problems, though
they were of the flesh, not the spirit. He'd come to discuss them
with her but he found he couldn't. His problems seemed petty, now. He
wasn't at all certain that she would understand him.

And he was
ashamed. He could speak glibly enough of God when it came to dealing
with the problems of another, but with his own . . . His attempt at
prayer wasn't a success. His thoughts refused to ascend to heaven,
but lurked in a warm darkness, far lower.

Daniel's first
care had been for the most seriously wounded patient aboard the ship,
the lieutenant. He and Agis carried the man to the sick bay, where
the shipboard doctor, with curt efficiency, removed the dart from the
arm.

Brother Daniel
made certain, during the surgery, that the doctor ingested no water.
When the operation was finished, however, and the patient resting
comfortably, Daniel watched in silence as the doctor poured himself a
glass of water from the tap, drank it down. Within moments, the
doctor was, himself, lying on one of his own berths, drifting off
into a deep, deep sleep.

The priest went
over the medical supplies, took what he needed to treat the captain's
burned hand, and left, repeating to himself that drugging everyone
was much better than holding their victims captive, in a state of
perpetual, mind-numbing terror; better than the threats, the
beatings, the attempts at escape, the killings that must certainly
take place in a protracted hostage situation.

Returning to the
bridge, he found Lady Maigrey and Agis deep in discussion over the
best route into Corasia. Xris was conversing with his men, checking
on their status through a commlink device that was, apparently, built
directly into the cyborg's skull. Daniel glanced around. The captain
was gone.

"Excuse me,
my lady, but where is the . . . the captain?" For some reason,
Daniel couldn't talk about the woman without feeling his skin burn,
his insides knot up.

Maigrey turned
from her work, glanced at him.

Daniel felt
immediately guilty, although of what he wasn't quite certain. He held
up ointment and bandages. "For her hand," he said, lamely.

It seemed the
lady saw right through him, but she only said, "Sparafucile
escorted the captain to her quarters. It's located for'ard, on the
engine deck. I can't spare anyone to take you, at the moment ..."

"I ... I
can find it," stammered Brother Daniel, anxious to escape the
lady's amused, albeit somewhat concerned, scrutiny. The thought, too,
of the female captain in the hands of the half-breed assassin
appalled the priest. He hurried off, and thanks to the cruise ship
having numerous maps with "You Are Here" arrows posted on
the bulkheads, for the convenience of the passengers, he descended
from the bridge, which was on something called Boat deck, found
Engineering deck with relative ease.

Wandering the
corridor, searching for the captain's cabin, Daniel almost ran into
Sparafucile, emerging from a room. The priest heard—through the
partially opened door—the sound of a woman moaning in pain.

"What did
you do to her?" Daniel demanded, confronting the half-breed.

The misaligned
eyes in the cruel and brutish face squinted, narrowed in silent
laughter. The mouth, barely visible behind the mass o^ragged hair
hanging over the face, curled in a leer.

"Woman try
to have some fun with Sparafucile," said the assassin. "She
think maybe Sparafucile is not smart. Or maybe that he is not
dedicated to his job. Woman knows better now. I do not think she will
try to have fun with Sparafucile again."

The voice was
soft, with a slight hissing sound. Daniel felt his insides shrivel,
cold pervade his bowels. He was overcome by revulsion, but—seeing
those cunning eyes closely observant of him—he tried to keep
his feelings concealed. He took a step forward.

The half-breed
blocked the priest's way through the door.

"Let me
pass," Daniel said, starting to grow angry.

"What you
want with woman?" The half-breed grinned, as if he could guess
the answer.

"The Lady
Maigrey sent me," Brother Daniel replied. "I have medicine,
bandages." He took another step forward until he was almost
touching the half-breed. "Let me past."

"Lady send
you." Sparafucile considered the matter. He stepped aside
slowly, with the grace of a slithering snake. "I stay with you."

"No,"
said Brother Daniel. "Thank you, but that won't be necessary.
Besides, her ladyship wants you to report to her on the bridge."

That was a lie,
but the priest trusted God would forgive a lie in a good cause.

The assassin
moved away from the door.

"Be
careful," the half-breed warned. "The woman is tricksy.

Maybe she try to
have some fun with you, too. If you need help, you call Sparafucile."

One of the eyes,
the higher of the two on the grotesquely deformed face, closed in a
wink. The assassin moved down the corridor, silently, swiftly.

Daniel glanced
into the room, saw the woman lying on the bed. When he looked back,
the assassin had disappeared, as if he had melted into the bulkheads.
Daniel shivered, entered the room, and shut the door behind him.

The woman
groaned. Daniel forgot his anger and revulsion and any other
intrusive feelings in his pity and compassion for someone hurting.
Hurrying to her bedside, he examined her swiftly, could find no trace
of blood or any visible wound. Her almond-shaped black eyes were
shadowed with pain, but alert, watching him. Her groans had ceased,
stifled when she saw him come near her. She was breathing heavily,
but deeply. Her dark brown skin glistened with sweat. Her hair,
shaved on the sides above the ears, but luxuriant above, was so black
as to be almost blue. It sprang from a central peak at her forehead,
stood up, glistening, like an ebony crown on her well-shaped head.

Lying on the
bed, weakened by pain, her body nevertheless taut and coiled, tense
for action, she reminded Daniel of a wild animal, caught in a trap,
yet prepared to fight for its life. Her uniform jacket had been
unbuttoned when they'd first encountered her on the bridge. The flap
now hung open, as if tearing hands had ripped it, partially revealing
the large bare, firm breasts beneath.

Daniel stared,
caught himself staring, and turned away abruptly.