King's Sacrifice (41 page)

"—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 tip. 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.

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.