King's Sacrifice (55 page)

Maigrey shut it
oft turned around to face the priest.

There'll be
enough," she assured him. "Provided we don't take any
detours."

He looked
relieved, nodded. A nerve twitched in his face, at the comer of one
eye. His hands trembled on his lap, his complexion, normally pale,
was gray. He was thin, had visibly lost weight.

"Brother
Daniel, how long has it been since you slept?" Maigrey asked
severely. "Or eaten anything? Good God, if you collapse—"

"I won't,"
he said with a wan smile. "We're trained to fast. I've been
doing it deliberately—fasting, praying." He flushed
slightly, his cheeks gaining a semblance of color. "And other
things." He pressed his lips together, swallowed.

Maigrey, taking
his meaning, glanced at the back of his shirt, reflected in the
vanity mirror behind him. Faint traces of blood could be seen,
staining the fabric, evidence of the scourge, self-flagellation. She
said nothing, waited for him to continue.

He saw she
understood. "It hasn't helped."

He drew a deep
breath, suddenly left his chair, sank down upon his knees before her.
"My lady, may I make my confession to you?"

Maigrey stared
at him, startled. "Brother Daniel, I—I hardly think that
would be . . . right. I'm not a priest, as is Lord Sagan. I've never
taken holy orders. I can't offer you absolution—"

"I am aware
of this," said Brother Daniel, and his voice had grown firmer,
stronger. His gaze fixed on her and it was steady, unwavering. "But
you are close to God, my lady. I feel it. I know. The half-breed,
Sparafucile, tells me that we will be entering the Corasian galaxy
soon, perhaps as soon as tomorrow. We will be in mortal peril from
that moment on, won't we, my lady?"

"Yes,"
said Maigrey.

"I could
not die at peace with this burden on my soul. Hear my confession, my
lady. Part of it concerns you. Part of it requires human forgiveness.
As for God, I must put my faith in Him, that He will be
understanding."

"Very
well," said Maigrey, growing suddenly cold, fearful.

Was this all a
plot, hatched by the priest and his prisoner? Brother Daniel had
never approved this plan. Maybe this was his way out. Was that
captain, even now, perhaps, stealing onto the bridge? Sparafucile had
been spying on them, but the assassin couldn't watch them all the
time. Perhaps he'd missed this.

It was on the
tip of Maigrey's tongue to make some excuse, warn Agis. . . .

You fool, she
told herself. You're panicking. She forced herself to think
logically. She herself had seen Captain Corbett yesterday. The woman
was still drugged, still only half-conscious about half the time.
Raoul had said that even when they quit giving the woman the drug, it
would take days for the effects to wear off. Agis was quite capable
of dealing with Captain Corbett, if she managed to make it that far.
And Sparafucile was undoubtedly close at hand, as he always was,
whether anyone wanted him or not.

"My lady,"
said the young priest, "I have fallen in love."

He fell silent,
head bowed.

Not "I am
in love" but "I have fallen in love." Fallen. Yes,
that's how he would think of it.

"Is that
all?" Maigrey asked, exasperated, speaking before she thought.

He looked up,
stricken, his agony evident in the body's rigid lines, taut muscles,
straining tendons, the stripes of blood across the slender shoulder
blades.

"I'm sorry,
Brother Daniel," she said, sighing, "but I imagined—
I am the one who needs to ask forgiveness."

"No, you
don't, my lady." His voice was almost fierce. "I know what
you imagined. And you wouldn't be far wrong. That, too, is part of my
sin. I considered betraying you, betraying my lord. I planned,
plotted. I thought, time and again, of how it might be done. She and
I talked. She has lucid moments, rational, especially when the drug
begins to wear off. It grew harder and harder for me to continue
giving her the injections. I—" He choked, was forced to
quit speaking, lowered his head again.

"Brother
Fideles," Maigrey said gently, knowing this would hurt, but
thinking it might eventually help, "did it ever occur to you
that she's been using you? That she doesn't really care for you?"

"I know,"
said the young priest quietly. "I'm not such a fool as that. I
knew the first day what she was after." He flushed, continued in
low tones, "And how she would try to get it. But there have been
times, especially lately, when I thought that perhaps . . . that is .
. . that she might be coming to care . . ."

"The woman
is a good captain," said Maigrey. This should be cut off
swiftly, cleanly, the wound cauterized with flame before it festered.
"She cares about one thing and that's her ship, her command, her
responsibility to her crew, her passengers. She discovered a weakness
in her enemy and took advantage of it, using the only weapon at her
disposal. It is unfortunate you got hurt, Brother Fideles, but war is
hell."

He glanced up,
to see if she were mocking him, laughing at him. But she was earnest,
serious. He went extremely pale.

"Yes,"
he said steadily, "you are right. I mean nothing to her."

"Have you
broken your vows of chastity?" Maigrey asked. If he was going to
confess, he should dig down to the bottom of his soul.

"Many
times. In my mind only. But there is no difference in the eyes of the
Creator," he added swiftly.

"I give Him
a little more credit than that," Maigrey said dryly. "After
all, He was the One who developed the concept. It seems to me,
Brother, that your besetting sin is the sin of pride, and I believe
it is for that you need to beg God's forgiveness."

"Pride?"
Brother Daniel stared at her in confusion.

"You're one
of us now, my friend," said Maigrey, gently smiling. "You're
no longer perfect, no longer living up among the angels. You have
indeed 'fallen,' fallen to our level. You are human."

Brother Daniel
frowned, not quite understanding, wondering again if she was teasing
him. He looked into her eyes, saw sympathy, pity, but also
admonition, rebuke.

"I've been
that insufferable?" he asked ruefully.

"On
occasion."

"Yes. I
suppose I have," he admitted after a moment's thought, ashamed.
He rose to his feet. "Thank you, my lady. I will return to my
duties."

"I can take
you away from her, now, Brother, if you would like," Maigrey
offered. "Raoul could—"

"No, my
lady. It is my responsibility. Besides, Tomi—I mean, Captain
Corbett—is now fairly certain that I will not succumb to her
seductions. I don't believe she'll try anything further."

No, Maigrey had
the feeling the woman knew when she'd been beaten. The young priest
was pale but composed, saddened but tranquil. The captain must see,
in that face, that she had lost. But did she see, too, what wounds
she had inflicted? Did she know what terrible torment the young man
had suffered, alone, in the dark? What fevered, aching dreams of
desire he had sought to drive out of his mind by torturing his own
flesh?

Maigrey ushered
Brother Daniel out the door, watched him wend his way down the
corridor.

War was hell.
Before returning to her work, Maigrey promised herself a
woman-to-woman talk with Captain Tomi Corbett.

The night
watches came to an end, finally.

Maigrey stood on
the bridge, hands clasping the back of the pilot's chair. She
watched, over Agis's shoulder, the numbers flash past until her eyes
burned with the strain.

"And . . .
mark, my lady," he reported.

"Prepare to
bring us out of hyperspace."

"Yes, my
lady." He and the half-breed did as commanded.

Maigrey
activated the commlink that would carry her words throughout the
slumbering ship.

"We're
coming out of the Jump," she reported. "We are now in the
Corasian galaxy."

A red light
flashed, winking ominously. Maigrey saw it, saw Agis's glance at her,
making certain she had noticed.

"In fact, "
she added grimly, "we've just tripped one of their alarms. I
should say we can expect company almost anytime now. You know what
you're supposed to do. Remain calm, and everything will be fine.
Secure the ship for reentry."

Sitting down,
she strapped herself in and tried to recall, idly, how much it was
you were supposed to pay the ferryman that took you across the river
Styx.

About, about, in
reel and rout The death-fires danced at night . . .

Samuel Taylor
Coleridge,
The Rime of the Ancient Mariner

One moment the
Corasians were not there and the next moment there were swarms of
their small planes flying from the mother ship, surrounding the
Galaxy Belle,
weaving their tractor beam web around the luxury
liner. Fortunately, it was not the Corasian way to shoot first and
ask questions later, even against a ship that had violated their
territory. Corasians value human technology too much to risk damaging
a prize. Far better to haul it off, dismantle it, study it, learn
from it, then scavenge the parts.

And, in
addition, the collective mind—that was really quite
intelligent, if not particularly creative—was curious. Why was
this ship, a pleasure craft, here? It could not possibly have strayed
off-course. The
Belle
must be in their galaxy for a reason and
the Corasians were interested in knowing what that reason was.

"Pass the
word for Xris," ordered Maigrey.

Agis complied,
relayed the message to engineering.

A thin
mechanical voice, translated from electronic impulses broadcast by
the Corasian mother ship, sounded through the stillness on the
bridge, "Alien vessel, you have deliberately flown through our
defensive barriers. This is a hostile act. You are our prisoner.
Prepare to be boarded. Repeat. Prepare to be boarded."

"Transmit
this message," ordered Maigrey. "
Galaxy Belle
to
Corasian people. We have no hostile intent. This ship is not armed.
We have a business proposition."

"State your
business proposition."

"My lady,"
said Agis in an undertone, "the tractor beam net is closing
around us."

"Yes, thank
you," murmured Maigrey. "This is our proposition. We have
nine hundred and seventy-five prime specimens of human flesh aboard
this vessel. All adults, in good health, suitable for work or the
slaughterhouse. We're seeking a buyer."

"We do not
make deals with aliens who have violated the terms of the treaty
between our galaxies and who have entered our territory illegally.
Your ship and its cargo are considered contraband and are hereby
confiscated. Prepare to be boarded."

The door slid
open. The cyborg entered.

Maigrey glanced
questioningly at him. Xris nodded, pointed at a button on the console
on the arm of her chair. "Push that, sister, and they'll think a
star went nova. Only it won't be a star. It'll be us."

"Satisfactory,"
Maigrey said to Xris. "
Galaxy Belle
to the Corasian
people. This ship is wired to explode. Make any attempt to board,
without our permission, and you will lose the vessel and its cargo.
Your scanners will verify."

The Corasians
did not respond.

"We are
being scanned, lady-mine," reported Sparafucile.

Maigrey said
nothing, sat back to wait, her hand resting near the button.

The thin
mechanical voice returned. "We ask permission to come aboard and
inspect your cargo."

"Permission
granted," said Maigrey with a tight smile, rising to her feet,
moving briskly across the deck. "Agis, you have the helm. Xris,
Sparafucile, come with me." Pausing in the open door, she
turned. "Agis, if I give the command, you know what you must
do?"

"Yes, my
lady," he said calmly. His gaze shifted to the button, looked up
at her.

Maigrey,
satisfied, went out, the cyborg and the half-breed accompanying her.
Sparafucile did not walk with them, but shuffled a few paces behind;
either acting as rear guard, or keeping an eye on her, Maigrey could
never be certain which.

She glanced
curiously at Xris, who was arming his weapons hand. Cracking open the
metal fingers, he removed the gas pellets and darts appropriate for
use in fighting humans. From the compartment in his cybernetic leg,
he took out ten objects made of metal, shaped like small torpedoes.

"My own
speciality. A Corasian killer. I designed them myself, after the
battle on Shilo. They act like heat-seeking missiles," he
explained, inserting the projectiles swiftly and deftly into the
fingers of his weapons hand. "They're attracted to the
abnormally high temperature of the Corasian, explode on impact."

"That would
shatter the robot body," said Maigrey, eyeing the weapons
curiously, "but not the Corasian itself. In feet, it would
probably thrive on the energy of the explosion."

"I thought
of that. Each is armed with a small anti-matter charge. Minute, but
hopefully enough to disrupt the Corasian energy field and turn them
to jelly."

"Hopefully?"
Maigrey raised her eyebrows.

Xris smiled,
clicked shut the fingers of his hand. Lights flashed up and down the
artificial arm, accompanied by a series of beeps. The cyborg listened
attentively to die tone, watched the lights—that ranged from
green to yellow—and appeared satisfied. He relaxed, removed a
twist from his uniform pocket, stuck the length of black tobacco in
his mouth.

"I haven't
exactly had a chance to test them yet, sister."

"You'll
undoubtedly have the opportunity before this is ended, but not here,
not now. The last thing we want at this point is a fight."

She was aware of
the half-breed's shambling footsteps behind her. He had crept up to
examine, over Xris's shoulder, the new weaponry, then had resumed his
place again. It was interesting, Maigrey noted, that his footfalls
could be heard when he wanted them to be heard; that he could move as
silently as the night if he didn't.