betrayed it. disgraced it, but he couldn't
give it up.
His voice,
coming to her muffled, seemed filtered through a thick, rose-tinted
mist.
Yes, Ohme,
what is it? Be brief, I don't have much time.
Ohme! Snaga
Ohme! The name was like a sharp pinprick, a glass of cold water
tossed on her face. She regained consciousness instantly, too
instantly and not carefully, to judge by the jingle of armor, the
guard turning to look at her. Maigrey concentrated on lying perfectly
still, and the guard turned away. She had to make certain she didn't
betray herself to Sagan, had to keep her thoughts from touching his
with too heavy a hand. Unaware of her, discounting her. he'd let his
guard down.
I am giving
you fair warning, dear boy. If I'm not paid, I shall put the bomb on
the open market. Highest bidder. First come, first served, so to
speak.
And why
shouldn't I be the one to buy it?
The thought was
like a jolt of electricity through Maigrey's body. She began to
shiver uncontrollably and huddled more closely beneath the blanket.
Excitement was a magic elixir, burning away aches and fatigue and
despair. She was gulping it down so fast she felt dizzy, drunk. Calm,
she counseled. Calmly.
First, Sagan,
She'd been careless, he might have read her thoughts, come storming
through the ship to stop her.
No, he was
furious at the alien; his mind was in a turmoil. He himself was
endeavoring to proceed with calm. He couldn't waste time on her. What
was she, anyway? Helpless? A prisoner?
Not for long.
Not for long.
Could it be
accomplished' 3 Could she really deal for the bomb? It
would be difficult, but the beginning of a plan, the vague shape and
outline, was forming. Yes, it was feasible. All she had to do was get
away. And that should be relatively easy, in a ship about to die.
The most
dangerous part of her plan would be the next few-seconds, escaping
from her guards, slipping off the bridge. She could fight; she had
the bloodsword. But that would call attention to her and, more
important, she didn't have the time, Sagan was already on his way
back.
Maigrey
concentrated, marshaling her mental forces, summoning the power. The
Blood Royal. Genetically bred over centuries, designed to rule, to
lead. Theirs was a magic capable of logical definition, scientific
mysticism.
What could
you do, if you wanted. my lady? Dion had asked her once.
What could I
do? I could split the bulkheads open. I could short out all the
electrical systems. I could make each man in this bar rise up and
slay himself.
So she had told
the young man and she'd told him the truth. But none of that would be
necessary right now, not that she had the energy to try bulkhead
splitting or mass murder. Mass hypnosis was far less taxing and would
accomplish the same objective.
Maigrey stirred
beneath the blanket, sighed, and seemed to settle herself more
comfortably. As she hoped, each man near her turned to stare at her.
Fortunately, none touched her. One started toward her. but the
centurion shook his head, gestured him back with weapon drawn.
Admiral Aks glanced in her direction, said something
indistinguishable and unimportant to a lieutenant standing near, who
also looked in her direction.
No man noticed
or realized that when he looked at her he was caught, that he stood
frozen, immobile, hypnotized. The effect lasted only a split second.
No one remembered it afterward. Each man turned away with an image in
his mind of a woman lying unconscious beneath a blanket on the deck
at their feet. So powerful was the image that, when the woman rose to
her feet, the man's mind refused to believe what his eyes insisted
upon. Faced with two distinct and contradictory images, the brain of
each man on the bridge chose the strongest, rejected the seemingly
impossible.
Walking softly,
moving fluidly as a ghost, Maigrey glided away and no one on deck
knew she had gone.
The bridge was
almost completely dark and nearly empty of its personnel. All lights
except for running lights and
Jennifer LaBrecque, Leslie Kelly