King's Sacrifice

by Margaret Weis

  "It was not Lord Sagan," Maigrey said.

  "Oh, no. The Little One and I never supposed that for a moment. We discovered the truth, my lady. That is, the Little One discovered it. We saw the murderer that night. We were close to the one known as Abdiel . . . and to you, my lady, although undoubtedly you did not notice us. You were . . . preoccupied."

  Trust the Adonian to phrase it delicately. "I was his prisoner," Maigrey said bluntly.

  "Yes, my lady, we knew. That is, the Little One knew. What with the confusion, the report of the bomb about to go off, we were unable to stop the mind-seizer and bring him to justice. Since that unfortunate time, however, we have been keeping track of his whereabouts and . . ." Raoul hesitated.

  "—waiting for an opportunity to 'bring him to justice,'" suggested Maigrey.

  "Yes," admitted Raoul. "But one never occurred. He came here, but he was well guarded and," the Loti added ingenuously, "he drinks only water that he distills and purifies himself and eats nothing but pills, all of which he makes up in his own laboratory."

  "A poisoner's nightmare," said Maigrey sympathetically, remembering the Loti's talent.

  "I was considerably disheartened." Raoul looked as downcast as it was possible for a Loti to look.

  "Now, Abdiel has jumped galaxies and you have lost him completely."

  "The Little One has a particular aversion to Corasians," said Raoul solemnly. "It is difficult to develop a rapport with them.

  The two of us would be in extreme peril if we attempted to go after him alone. But the point is moot considering the unhappy circumstance that we do not own a ship capable of making the Jump."

  "My lady," Agis said, his eyes on the computer screen, "the person you requested to see is waiting outside."

  Maigrey depressed the button, the door slid open.

  She had met numerous cyborgs, but not one quite like this. Most people forced by circumstance to become part machine chose to make the machine part appear human. Plastiskin, fleshfoam, and chemblood made artificial limbs not only appear real to the sight and touch, but they would actually bleed if wounded. Internal computer systems, operated by brain impulses, kept the limb moving in harmony with the body's natural parts. Only the most careful observer could generally note the too-perfect function of a cybernetic limb.

  But this cyborg, as Maigrey had said, flaunted his machinery, scorned to hide it. A short-sleeved shirt revealed a metal arm, hand, and fingers. LED lights blinked on and off, presumably indicating that all parts were functioning normally. The fingers were jointed, various compartment chambers were visible, containing—Maigrey guessed, considering the cyborg's occupation—weapons. The same undoubtedly held true of the cybernetic leg and foot, visible beneath a pair of altered combat fatigues, whose left pant leg had been cut off at the hip to reveal the mechanical limb.

  Maigrey noted as an oddity that the flesh, bone, and muscle half of the cyborg's body was extraordinarily well developed; almost too well developed. Muscles bulged in both legs and arms, contrasting strangely with the smooth-sided mechanized limbs. It was almost as if the human side of the man was competing with the machine.

  The cyborg's gaze flicked about the room, making a swift, reflexive, force-of-habit reconnaissance. He did the same with each person seated at the table, summed up Agis with a glance, passed over Sparafucile without the barest hint of recognition, studied Brother Daniel with cool curiosity. His gaze finally settled on Maigrey, who made a slight gesture with her hand, inviting him to be seated. She could hear, in the quiet room, the faint hum and whir of the cyborg's machinery.

  "You will excuse me?" she said. "I've run into an old friend."

  "Sure, sister. Take your time."

  Xris accepted the seat at the end of the round couch, lounged back, studied the ceiling with as much intensity as if he could see through it, which—considering he had an enhanced, artificial eye—perhaps he could. One never knew, with cyborgs.

  "The mind-seizer was here on this moon," Maigrey said, returning her attention to Raoul. "You saw him."

  "Yes, my lady."

  "And"—Maigrey paused—"Lord Sagan was with him?"

  "One might say that, my lady."

  "What do you mean?"

  "The Little One thought Sagan was dead, my lady. But I said that he must be wrong. Why would the mind-seizer bother to transport a corpse?"

  "Why, indeed?" Maigrey asked. She lifted the martini glass to her lips. "And what do you want of me, Raoul?"

  "Please, my lady," said Raoul with a flip of the hair, a flourish, and a bow, "though I am a Loti, do not take me for a fool. The drugs in which I indulge allow me to see the universe through rose-colored glasses, as the old saying goes. They do not, however, dim or blur my vision. It is not coincidence that you are here, on Hell's Outpost and that the mind-dead are here, as well."

  Maigrey set down the martini glass. "You've seen them?"

  "Yes, my lady."

  "You know, perhaps, who they are? Where they are staying?"

  "Yes, my lady."

  Maigrey glanced at Sparafucile, who nodded and, uncoiling his body, rose lethargically to his feet,

  "How many of them?" the assassin asked.

  "Three," answered Raoul.

  "In the Cafe?"

  "Yes."

  "I will have to wait until they leave, Starlady," said Sparafucile.

  "I understand. We will meet you back at the spaceplane."

  "Perhaps I should accompany him, my lady," offered Agis, starting to rise.

  Sparafucile grunted, shook his head. "I work alone. Come, Loti."

  "My lady." Raoul, in his earnestness, leaned over the table.

  His long hair fell forward, brushed his fingertips. The smell of exotic perfume filled the small room. "This information deserves some reward, don't you agree?"

  "Certainly," Maigrey replied. "Your tip will be extremely generous."

  "Not money, my lady. Take us with you."

  "You and the Little One."

  "Of course, my lady. Our help could be of inestimable value."

  Maigrey studied him thoughtfully. "Perhaps it could. I will give the matter thought and let you know."

  "Thank you, my lady."

  "And since you will be busy, would you send someone else up with this gentleman's order?" She glanced at Xris.

  "I will be delighted, my lady." The Adonian rose, smoothed back his hair, bowed, and turned gracefully to the cyborg. "What is your pleasure, sir?"

  "Nothing gives me pleasure, Loti. Booze makes it a little easier, that's all. And I've reached my limit."

  "Very good, sir." Raoul smiled radiantly on all of them, drifted out the door in a cloud of euphoria, leaving behind the fragrance of roses and jasmine.

  Sparafucile followed, padding silent as a cat. Brother Daniel sneezed. The cyborg stared at Maigrey.

  "Name's Xris. So what's the deal, sister?"

  Agis stiffened. "You are in the presence of Lady Maigrey Morianna, sir. You will speak to my lady with respect."

  The cyborg slid an inch down in his seat, made himself comfortable, kept his eyes—lids narrowed—on Maigrey. "Yeah, I thought that's who you were. Word's out you're looking for men for a job. I have five. Xris's Commandos. Maybe you've heard of us? We used to be seven, but we lost two."

  "How did it happen?"

  "We were doing a job on Shilo's Planet I, about eight, nine months ago."

  "When the Corasians attacked?"

  "Yeah. They were good men. Been with us from the start."

  "You could replace them. ..."

  "This"—Xris held his flesh-and-blood hand to the light— "can be replaced, sister. Not men. Not good men."

  The cyborg pulled out a plastisteel case, opened the lid, removed an ugly black, braided, particularly strong, and nasty form of tobacco known as a "twist," and stuck it in one corner of his mouth.

  "I would appreciate it if you didn't smoke," said Maigrey.

  Xris brought the metal hand to the twist's ti
p. A small flame shot out of the thumb, lit the tobacco. A cloud of noxious gray-green smoke drifted lazily to the ceiling. The cyborg inhaled deeply, let the smoke drizzle out the corner of the tight-lipped mouth.

  Agis was on his feet. "My lady asked you not to smoke—"

  Maigrey laid a restraining hand on the centurion's arm.

  Agis resumed his seat reluctantly, jaw set, face grim. Xris paid him no attention.

  "You don't attempt to endear yourself to your potential employers, do you?" Maigrey asked wryly.

  "I'm not off to see the wizard, looking for a heart. What's the job, sister?"

  "I can't give you details until you accept. I couldn't give them to you here, anyway. We've had a small problem. Someone attempting to . . . eavesdrop." She stirred the rock dust with her finger.

  The cyborg would have raised an eyebrow if he'd had any. "Must be damn good to break through the security of this place."

  "They are good. We found one listening device, but there may be others."

  "So that's where the breed went, huh? He in on this with you?"

  "Yes."

  Xris removed the twist from his mouth, flicked ashes on the floor beneath the table. "What are the odds of getting back alive?"

  "Practically none."

  "Suicide mission?"

  "That describes it"

  "What's it pay?"

  "Name your price."

  Xris stated a figure.

  Maigrey smiled, shook her head. "I could buy twenty men for such a sum."

  "You hire us and you'll think you hired twenty."

  "Your team is that good?"

  Xris took a drag on the twist. Smoke curled up lazily from the corner of the cyborg's mouth. "We're that good. I lost two men on Shiloh, but I managed to get the rest of my men off alive. We five were the only survivors."

  "These are my terms: I'm in command. You report to me. Your men take orders from you."

  The ash on the twist glowed brightly, dimmed. "You used to be in the Golden Squadron?"

  "Yes."

  "Sagan's number two?"

  "Yes."

  Xris nodded. Taking the twist out of his mouth, he tossed it on the floor, ground it beneath his heel. "These are my terms: I draw up the contract. You sign it. We don't do anything that's not in the contract unless we get paid extra. We take cash only. No credit. All of it, in advance."

  "Half now. Half on return."

  "No dice, sister. From what you say, this is a one-way ticket."

  "And from what you say, if you're as good as you say, you've guaranteed me a worry-free round-trip. Half now, half on return."

  The cyborg took out another twist, stuck it in his mouth, eyed Maigrey. Then he grinned. "Shoveled myself into my own hole, didn't I?"

  Maigrey smiled coolly. Her eyes kept level with his, never shifted.

  At length, Xris lifted his metal hand, flexed the fingers. "There's some new parts out on the market. I need to upgrade and I need money to buy them. It'll be worth it to you, sister, I promise. Sixty percent now, forty on return."

  "Very well," Maigrey agreed, ignoring Agis's scowl.

  Xris's gaze flicked to the linkup. "You've been checking on me, I see."

  "Just as you've been checking on me."

  "What did you find out?"

  "Nothing you don't already know."

  The cyborg grunted, stood up. He held out his right hand, his flesh-and-blood hand. "Done?"

  Maigrey stood up, clasped her right hand over his. "Done."

  Xris turned her hand over, palm up. The five puncture wounds that marked her as Blood Royal shone dark in the room's indirect lighting. He glanced from her palm to the bloodsword.

  Maigrey removed her hand from the cyborg's grasp, placed it on the bloodsword's hilt. "You know Sparafucile's plane?"

  "That heap? Yeah, I know it."

  "Meet me there at 2400. We'll go over the details and I'll have your money."

  Xris said nothing, nodded, started to leave. He moved awkwardly, with an uneven gait, as if forcing the human side of his body to move faster and better and smoother than the machine. At the door, he turned, glanced over his shoulder.

  "By the way, sister. You'd better put that forty percent you owe us in escrow. We will be back to collect."

  Maigrey activated the door. The cyborg walked out. She shut the door, sealed it behind him. Thoughtfully, she sat down again.

  "What do you think?" she asked.

  "A tormented soul," said Brother Daniel, suddenly and unexpectedly.

  Maigrey stared at him, startled. "Yes, I believe you're right."

  "I don't like him." Agis shook his head, frowning darkly. "But I have little doubt that he's capable. What does my lord say about him?"

  Maigrey smiled, switched on the linkup, turned the screen for Agis to read.

  At the bottom of the long file, under "Xris, cyborg" was a single comment, wry, grudging.

  He's actually as good as he thinks he is.

  Chapter Ten

  Follow, follow, follow . . .

  The Wizard of Oz

  "Where's Agis?" Brother Daniel asked, emerging from the Cafe's exit—another sensory deprivation chamber that left the priest feeling slightly dizzy and disoriented.

  Maigrey shrugged. "Last I saw him, he was heading for a back room in the company of our fluorescent green hostess."

  Brother Daniel gasped, shocked. "He should not have left you—-"

  "Oh, lighten up," Maigrey said sharply. "We're not all virgins, you know."

  Brother Daniel stared at her in disbelief, his skin burning. Hurt and offended, he turned away.

  She seemed to regret her words, looked as if she wanted to apologize, then changed her mind. "Come along, Brother," she said abruptly. "It's time we were getting back to the plane."

  The three had left the upper room, planning—or so Brother Daniel had assumed—to return to the spaceplane. On the way down in the gravator, Agis had suggested they stop in the bar and have "one for the road." Maigrey had agreed. Brother Daniel had excused himself to use the facilities.

  When he had returned, Agis was nowhere to be seen. The priest assumed the centurion had gone about the same business as himself and would meet them at the exit. But the centurion was, it seemed, apparently engaged in more pleasant pursuits. Brother Daniel couldn't understand it. Agis had certainly not seemed the type to indulge in his appetites when they were on such an urgent and dangerous mission. And the priest couldn't understand Maigrey for allowing it. Apparently, he had misjudged both of them.

  "This way," said Maigrey. She was cold, cold and colorless as the moon on which they stood.

  Brother Daniel didn't argue. The plastisteel domes looked all the same to him. He had no idea where they were.

  The two walked rapidly over the planet's gray surface, the rock crunching beneath their boots. Brother Daniel kept nervous watch. They were out late, too late. Although Hell's Outpost never slept, the inhabitants had apparently taken their business and/or pleasure behind closed doors and plastisteel walls. The streets—meandering paths winding around the scattered domes that passed for streets—were almost empty, except for a few dark and furtive figures, who kept closely to the shadows.

  Daniel thought he saw one of these figures detach itself from a wall and fall into step behind them. Coincidence, he told himself. Someone heading the same direction we are.

  The priest was forced to quicken his pace to catch up with Maigrey, who was walking rapidly, looking neither to her left nor her right, apparently preoccupied by her own thoughts.

  "My lady, I think we're going the wrong way," said Brother Daniel.

  "Keep moving," Maigrey said softly, beneath her breath.

  They were surrounded by several domes, most of them dark and deserted. The priest, glancing behind him out of the corner of his eye, caught a glimpse of a shadow melting into the shadow of a building.

  "No, no, this is the right direction. I'm sure of it," Maigrey said suddenly, loudly.
<
br />   Daniel had no idea what was going on. Fear's hard knot tightened inside him. Maigrey glanced at him, her lips moved.

  "Say something," she mouthed. "Keep talking."

  He wished desperately he knew what was going on.

  "I ... I don't remember any of these buildings." He swallowed. "And, look. You can see the dome wall from here. That isn't the air lock we came in through. And there are no planes parked out beyond. We've . . . come the wrong way, he repeated helplessly.

  Maigrey came to an abrupt stop. Daniel was three steps beyond her before he realized it.

  "So we have," she said, and spinning on her heel, she launched off in a different direction. "This is the way. I remember now."

  Coming even with her, Brother Daniel looked back over his shoulder. Their shadow had also changed direction, was moving along after them.

  "My lady," he said in a low voice, "I think we're being—"

  The sound of a scuffle came from behind them, a choking, agonized scream.

  "Damn!" Maigrey swore. Turning, she ran back down the street.

  Bewildered, Daniel hurried after.

  Agis knelt over the body of a woman, lying on the gray rock. Maigrey came up to him.

  "Dead?" she asked.

  The centurion rolled the woman's body over. Brother Daniel, looking down, looked hurriedly away. He had seen death, had seen violent death, but never anything quite as horrible as this. The woman's eyes were wide open, stared up at them in sheer terror. Her mouth gaped open, her face was contorted by what must have been unendurable pain.

  Agis rose to his feet.

  "I'm sorry, my lady. I tried to take her alive, as you commanded, but when I laid my hand on her, she . . . she just screamed and clutched her head and . . . dropped down."

  "Was she one of them?" asked Maigrey, regarding the corpse with a cool, dispassionate gaze.

  "I believe so, my lady. I couldn't be certain. She was waiting outside the Cafe. She picked up you and Brother Daniel there."

  "Yes," said Maigrey. "I hadn't counted on our priest being such an astute observer. He spotted her almost immediately, nearly gave us away."

  Daniel stared down at the corpse.

  "What killed her, if Agis didn't?"