King's Sacrifice

by Margaret Weis

  Tusk knew he was behaving irrationally, knew Nola was dependable. Hell, he could depend on her more than he could on himself.

  "I'll . . . be up in a minute," he muttered.

  Sliding down the ladder into the cockpit, he subsided into the pilot's chair, moodily rubbed his bruised knee.

  "So what was that little emotional outburst you treated us to," he remarked to the computer. "Jeez, you'd think you actually felt something for the kid."

  "Emotional outburst!" XJ's lights flared indignantly. "Feelings! How dare you accuse me of such a thing! That was an electrical malfunction, occasioned by—"

  "Yeah, yeah." Tusk eyed the space-rotation bomb gloomily. "Just how unstable is this thing?"

  "You have insulted me for the last time!" XJ seethed, ignoring the question. "I've put up with a great deal from you, Mendaharin Tusca. Your juicing and your swearing and your refusal to pick up wet towels off the deck when you know how that irritates me, to say nothing of dragging me to an alien galaxy, putting our investment in extreme peril, with no hope of recouping our expenses. I—I—"

  XJ was forced to pause, wait for its overloaded systems to cool down. 'This is the end of our relationship! I've spoken with Captain Link. He's looking for a new partner. I believe—"

  "Sure, yeah, fine."

  Tusk wasn't listening. He fidgeted, stood up, sat down again. Something was wrong. Every nerve in his body was jumping and twitching. He felt like a guy who'd been on the juice for a week straight and was trying to come off.

  "What are your scanners picking up?"

  "Nothing," stated XJ. "I turned them off. The energy levels were beginning to—"

  "Turned them off!"

  "Tusk!" Nola shouted warningly.

  He leapt to his feet, started for the ladder leading up to the gun turret.

  The deck slid sideways, out from under him. Tusk grabbed onto the back of the pilot's chair. The plane jolted and rocked, settled back down.

  "What the—"

  "Tusk! There's a whole army out here!"

  "Shit!" Tusk swore. "I knew it. XJ, take us up! Now, XJ!"

  He swung himself back into the pilot's seat, began flipping switches. The lights flickered, but nothing happened. The plane remained sitting stolidly on the ground. Another shot rocketed into it.

  "Tusk!" Nola shrieked.

  "XJ!" Tusk said through clenched teeth. "This is no time to screw around! Get us the hell outta here!"

  "Sorry," said the computer.

  "What do you mean 'sorry'?"

  "We can't take off!" XJ's audio crackled. "The anti-grav. That first shot—"

  "Hit it? That's not possible. The shielding—" Tusk could hear, up above him, Nola open fire.

  "It didn't hit it!" the computer shouted above the noise. "It's jammed, stuck! You remember? We had this same problem on Alpha Phi Delta Twenty-seven—"

  "Fuck it!" Tusk slammed his fist into the console, then kicked it. He had some wild, irrational idea of jarring the anti-grav—located on the plane's underbelly—loose.

  "Tusk!" Nola called.

  He jumped out of the chair, climbed the ladder, stuck his head up into the bubble. "What's out there?"

  "About seventy or so humans and God knows how many Corasians! It's the humans who're attacking. They've got some sort of lascannon. That's what hit us the first time."

  The mind-dead, armed with lasguns and beam rifles, were swarming out of the ravaged forest, advancing steadily on his plane and his alone, paying no attention to the other space-planes—the lady's and those belonging to her commandos— parked nearby.

  "They're after the bomb," guessed Tusk. "And us stuck down here, sitting ducks."

  Nola fired, drove the mind-dead back. Only for a moment. Tusk made up his mind.

  "I'm going out there. Maybe I can knock the drive loose. That's what I did the last time this happened."

  "What?" Nola let go of the gun, made a grab for him, missed. "Tusk!" She tumbled down the ladder. "That's insane! You'll get yourself killed!"

  "What're our odds if I don't, sweetheart? You keep me covered. With our firepower, they won't get close."

  Grabbing a beam rifle and as many grenades as he could carry, Tusk kissed her swiftly on the cheek and was gone before she could hang on to him.

  Another shot hit the spaceplane, right above where she was standing. Nola ducked, shielding her head. Bits of plastisteel and twisted metal rained down on top of her. When it cleared, she looked up into the bubble. It was no longer there.

  "That . . . that was the gun, Tusk!" she cried.

  "Glad you weren't with it, baby," Tusk said, starting up the ladder.

  "But . . . but . . ." She began to protest, looked at Tusk's face. Gulping, she swallowed her words and the fear surging up inside her. "I'm going with you. Give me the rifle."

  Tusk shook his head. He had reached the Scimitar's hatch. "Open up, XJ! It wouldn't work, Nola. Someone's got to stay inside, fly the plane if I get that mother knocked loose." Pausing, his hand on the hatch controls, he looked at her intently. "You understand, Nola? You've got to take this plane outta here, fast."

  "You'll fly it, Tusk. When you get back on board."

  "There may not be time for that, sweetheart."

  She stared at him, shaking her head. "No."

  "You got to. It's that simple. Look, I'll try to make it back, but if I don't, we can't let them get hold of die bomb. When I give the word, take off. You hear that, XJ?"

  The computer's lights dimmed. "Yes, Tusk," it said.

  Tusk climbed the ladder, pushed open the hatch, and was gone.

  Xris and his commandos had reached the planet's surface; their return trip uneventful.

  "Boring as hell," Lee described it.

  Several meters from the exit, however, the cyborg brought his squad to a halt.

  "What's that?" Harry asked, listening. "Sounds like an explosion."

  "Lascannon fire," said Xris. Taking the twist out of his mouth, he looked at it grimly, stuck it back in his pocket. "I thought this was too easy. Looks like they plan on throwing us a going-away party. C'mon."

  The sound of lascannon fire nearly drowned out every other noise, but in between rounds, they heard blasts of answering fire.

  "That's a Scimitar's gun. I'd recognize that weird whine they make anywhere," Bernard said, puzzled. "What's a Scimitar doin' out there?"

  "It is as I said," stated Raoul, "the young king has arrived. He and his friends are under attack." He paused, listened to the Little One. "I beg your pardon. The Little One says that the young king is not there. His friends alone are being attacked by mind-dead."

  "Yeah, well pardon me if I don't trust the Little One. I'll go see for myself."

  Xris ran to the entrance into the mounds. Craning his head, he risked a look. After a moment he motioned. The others hurried up to join him.

  "That's what's coming down, all right. There's a small army out there." Xris took the twist from his pocket, stuck it in his mouth, and lit it. "They've left our planes alone, though, at least. For the time being."

  "What's that Scimitar doin' still on the ground? Why don't the guy take off?" Harry demanded.

  "The Little One says that there is something wrong with the plane."

  Bernard squinted to see. "Yeah, that must be it. Look, the pilot's coming out. Gonna try to fix it, I'll bet."

  Safe in the tunnel's sheltering darkness, they watched the Scimitar's hatch pop open. A human male pulled himself out. Sliding down the ladder, he stopped at the bottom, fired off several rounds from the beam rifle he carried.

  The mind-dead, surging across the open stretch of land between forest and the Scimitar, paused, hit the ground or ran for cover.

  "Bastards're using our planes to hide behind," commented Harry. "I don't much like that. Good way to get our planes shot up."

  The pilot ceased his fire, dashed around to the front of the spaceplane, crouched down beneath the underbelly. They could see him under the plane, peering at
something.

  "That's it," Xris commented, watching. "When it doesn't work, give it a good, swift kick."

  "Anti-grav's stuck," said Lee. "Happens all the time to those old Scimitars. I heard they fixed it in the new ones."

  The mind-dead dashed forward, beam rifle aimed directly at the pilot. Laser bursts flared around him, sparks showered down over him. The pilot hugged the ground, covering his head with his arms.

  "They got him."

  "No. No, they didn't. He's back up again. Looks like he's got help."

  Another person appeared at the Scimitar's hatch. Beam rifle bursts forced the mind-dead to take cover. The pilot was kicking frantically at the jammed unit, began to beat on it with the butt end of the beam rifle.

  The mind-dead fell back momentarily, but it was only to regroup, make a change in plans, shift their aim.

  Harry, Lee, and Bernard exchanged glances.

  "He's never gonna make it."

  "We could help. Hell, they're not paying any attention to us."

  They looked at Xris, who was staring grimly out the tunnel exit.

  "The other person, the one covering him. It's a woman," said Lee.

  "Girlfriend, maybe," Bernard commented.

  "Or his wife," said Xris quietly, unexpectedly. He put the twist in his mouth, activated his weapons arm. "Give me five, then take off, get to the planes. They're our ticket off this blasted rock. Understand? You two"—he looked at Raoul and his companion—"stay here until the area's cleared, then run like hell."

  Raoul nodded complacently. "Yes, I think it would be wise for us to stay here." He glanced down at his companion, who was whimpering into the fedora. "The Little One finds this all highly disturbing."

  "What're you gonna do, boss?" Lee asked.

  "Kick that damn Scimitar off the ground, if I have to. Ready? All right. I'm moving out. Don't shoot until it looks like they've spotted me."

  "Boss," said Bernard, grinning. "This ain't in the contract."

  "Yeah, it is," said Xris, taking the twist from his mouth and tossing it away. "Like the lady says, you've got to read the fine print."

  Head down, Xris ran full tilt across the ground toward the Scimitar. The cybernetic part of his body operated smoothly, efficiently, the human half moved awkwardly, but kept up easily, sometimes seeming even determined to outrun the machine half.

  The mind-dead caught a glimpse of him. A few turned their heads.

  Xris's commandos shot out of the tunnel, yelling, drawing the enemy's attention. Blasting a hole in the line of mind-dead, they caught most of them completely by surprise, cut them down before they had a chance to see what was killing them from this unexpected direction.

  But the attack foiled to divert the zombies from their single-minded purpose, given to them by their master. They continued to advance on the Scimitar. The only thing that caused them to stop was death.

  Lee peered through the blasts of laser fire, smoke, and sparks, saw Xris dive for cover beneath the belly of the spaceplane. Then the mind-dead closed in around the Scimitar and he lost sight of the cyborg and the pilot.

  "Come on!" Bernard grabbed him. "Get to the planes! It's our only chance. Look what's coming!"

  Lee looked, thought for a moment the woods had caught fire. But it wasn't. It was the Corasians.

  Xris ducked beneath the Scimitar's sheltering wing. Two rockets, launched from his weapons hand, exploded in the midst of the mind-dead, decimating their ranks, creating a momentary lull in their fire. The cyborg raced around to the plane's belly, crawled under. He found the pilot—a black human male—lying facedown on the ground. A pool of blood spread beneath him.

  Shaking his head grimly, figuring the guy was dead, Xris turned his attention to the anti-grav unit, wondered what the hell it was he was looking at. He knew nothing about Scimitars.

  ". . . stuck," came a weak voice.

  Xris glanced down. The pilot had rolled over onto his side. His hands were clasped over his chest, blood welled out from between the fingers. His face was twisted in pain, the black skin glistened.

  "Kick it . . . there," he said, lifting a shaking finger, pointing.

  Xris nodded, no sense in wasting words. Turning back, he aimed, slammed the cybernetic foot into the jammed part. It didn't budge, didn't even wiggle. Laser fire burst around him. Two grenades, tossed by the woman up above in the hatch, drove the zombies back.

  Xris kicked the device again. No dice. Turning away, he reached down, took hold of the wounded pilot.

  "What are you doing?" the man gasped. "You got to . . . keep trying!"

  "It's stuck good and tight, brother. If this leg of mine won't knock it loose, nothing will. And we've got a better chance inside than out here."

  "You maybe," said the pilot, trying to smile. "Not me. Go on. Leave me. Go . . . take care of Nola."

  "What's your name?"

  Tusk."

  "You a doctor, Tusk?" Xris grunted.

  Tusk started to protest. The cyborg wrapped the remnants of the pilot's flight suit around him, hauled him up. Tusk groaned in agony, and passed out.

  "Just as well," Xris said to himself. "This is going to be a rough trip."

  He balanced the pilot's limp body over his left shoulder, clasped the strong cybernetic arm firmly around his legs, then dashed out from beneath the plane. Running around to reach the ladder, he began to climb. The woman, seeing him coming, crawled out onto the spaceplane's hull, flopped down on her stomach, poured a continuous stream of laser fire into the mind-dead below.

  The cyborg didn't have time to be gentle. The body across his shoulder bounced, flaccid arms dangling down behind. Xris's clothes were wet with blood.

  "If you're lucky, you'll be dead by the time we get inside," Xris told the unconscious man grimly.

  A shot slammed into the.cyborg's leg, nearly knocked him from the ladder. He held on, continued to climb. They'd hit his artificial leg. Fortunately, they hadn't hit the battery pack.

  Xris made it to the hatch. The woman ceased firing, slung die beam rifle over her shoulder, reached to help. Her face went white when she saw the injured man, but she stayed calm, composed.

  "Get below," Xris instructed. "I'll hand him down to you."

  The woman nodded, did as he told her. Capable, gentle hands caught hold of the wounded man, lowered him to the deck.

  "Toss me the rifle," Xris ordered.

  The woman did so. The cyborg fired several bursts, stayed in the hatchway long enough to make certain his men reached their planes safely. He saw the Corasians, but their advance had been halted by, ironically, the mind-dead. The Corasians had stopped to feed off the bodies of their allies.

  Satisfied, Xris slid down, shut and sealed the hatch.

  "Who is it? What's going on?" came a voice from the front of the plane.

  Xris stared into the cockpit, saw nothing, heard no sounds of any living being. "Who the hell's that?"

  "Plane's computer," said the woman in an undertone. "It's all right, XJ," she called out. "Just . . . Tusk, coming back. He brought help."

  "Tusk! What's that worthless excuse for a pilot doing inside here? He didn't get that anti-grav knocked loose yet! Send him up. I want a word with him."

  "He ... he can't come right now, XJ," said the woman. "Give him time to catch his breath."

  "I'll let him catch his breath all right," snapped the computer viciously. "Five minutes, Tusk!"

  "The mind-dead will probably storm the plane," Nola told Xris, not looking up at him, doing what she could to make the wounded man comfortable. "We have a space-rotation bomb on board and they want it."

  "Yeah, so I heart!," Xris said. "I don't think they'll get very for. You hear that racket out there? Those're my men, getting set to take off. Once they're airborne, they'll drop a few bombs themselves, make it tough for anything to survive long out there."

  The woman looked up at him, smiled briefly, then turned back to the injured man, who had regained consciousness. She placed a pillow beneath h
is head and attempted, gently, to move the hands clutched over his chest and stomach.

  "Don't, Nola," said Tusk softly. "It's bad. Real bad. Just . . . leave it . . . alone."

  "Oh, Tusk!" she whispered and buried her face in his shoulder.

  He attempted a smile, tried to say something. His voice choked, his face twisted in agony. He bit his lip to keep from crying out.

  Nola heard, felt his pain, held him closer, as if she could hold him together.

  Xris saw, near him, a storage compartment marked with a red cross. He rummaged in it, found what he wanted. Even then, he waited a moment longer to go back.

  Nola was sitting up. "We need painkiller," she said briskly, "and blankets."

  Xris held up a syringe. "I'll take care of him," he offered. "You go get the blanket."

  The woman's eyes gleamed with unshed tears. Hurrying away, she opened a closet, pulled out a blanket. Xris gave Tusk the injection, saw Nola's shoulders slump, her head sink. She hid her face in the blanket. His augmented hearing picked up the sound of the sobs she was trying to muffle in the thick cloth.

  Xris took a twist from his pocket, shoved it between his lips. The cyborg had also heard the sounds of footsteps outside the spaceplane, a faint thud now and then on the hull. Probably setting explosive charges planning to blow their way in.

  The spaceplane shook. The inside of the Scimitar was lit by a bright flare of light. The banging on the hull ceased abruptly.

  "What's going on out there? Tusk! I said five minutes," came a mechanical voice. A remote unit, small arms wiggling in frustration, popped out from the cockpit. "Where is that good-for-nothing? Ah, ha!" XJ pounced on the pilot. "Lying around, eh? Been in the jump-juice again, eh?"

  The lines of pain had eased from Tusk's face. He opened one eye, peered fuzzily at the remote unit, and managed a grin. "XJ ... go to hell," he whispered.

  The remote's lights flared in fury. It hovered over the mercenary. "How dare you? I'll shut off every system in this plane! You won't have water for a week! I'll—What . . . what's wrong with him?" The computer's tone altered. "Look! His fluid's leaking out! Well, don't just stand around! Somebody do something! Repair him. You there, Tin Man!" XJ whirled furiously on Xris. "Make yourself useful! Boil some water. That's it! Boil water. Roll bandages. Unroll bandages—"