quick, decisive action.
Within moments—just
as long as it would take to clear a room of thirty people—the
screen came back to life.
"Sagan. Thank you
for waiting."
The Warlord made no
response. The President was alone, the room empty. "Activate
scrambler."
That was to be
expected, considering the delicate nature of the discussion. Reaching
down, Sagan depressed a button. The annoying buzzing in his ears told
him that their conversation could now be held in strictest security.
The words spoken by each man were being transmitted in coded audio
impulses that could be understood by only these two alone. Although
it was highly unlikely that anyone could be monitoring their
conversation from the tight security of the sealed Cabinet Room or
from the equally tight security aboard Phoenix , this
conversation was far too dangerous to take even the tiniest fraction
of a chance.
"Continue,"
the President said. Now that they were alone, he did not bother to
control the eagerness of his expression. "Was he the one you
suspected? Did he have the boy? Is the boy with you?"
"I regret to
report that the boy escaped, Mr. President. However"—Derek
raised his bandaged hand, seeing the look of eagerness tighten to
anger—"I know who has him. I have a description of the
craft in which they fled. The alert has gone out to all sectors. But,
more important, I have now another, surer means to locate the boy. I
have no doubt that he will soon be within our grasp."
"I am glad that you have no doubts, Derek," Robes said in a low voice.
"As for leaving this in the hands of reckless bounty hunters—"
"If I may be
permitted to continue, sir, I will elaborate."
Frowning, the President
tapped a manicured fingernail on the table. He had no choice but to
listen, and both he and his Warlord knew it. Sagan also knew he would
be made to pay for this insubordination at some later date, but he
would worry about that later.
"I have discovered
the whereabouts of Lady Maigrey Morianna."
The Presidential
fingernail paused, the emotions on Robes's face were unreadable as he
absorbed this unforeseen information, rapidly assimilating in his
mind what it might mean to him.
"Indeed? I had no
idea she was still alive."
"I knew."
It was a flat answer,
carefully delivered. But the President was quick to catch it.
"Yes," he
said thoughtfully, "you must have known. She was . . . rather
special to you once, wasn't she, Derek?"
Sagan disdainfully
declined to answer such an impertinent question. His face
dispassionate, he regarded the President with the cool gaze of one
who waits patiently for a colleague to have his little joke and then
get on with the business at hand.
"No, no, my
friend. I was not referring to that !" Robes said with a
sly smile. "I refer to the fact that you two were . . . what did
they call it?" He made a graceful gesture with his hand. "Mental
. . . mental. ..."
"Mind-linked,
sir."
"Yes, mind-linked.
That was it. Quite a fascinating phenomenon. It occurred, as I
recall, only between those of the Blood Royal, and infrequently at
that. But tell me, Derek, if the woman was not dead, how is it that
she has escaped you all these years? The mind-link is not affected by
distance."
"No, sir."
Sagan discovered he had to steel himself to discuss the matter. He
had not supposed it would be this difficult. "The mind-link is
not affected by distance or by anything else in this universe
except—"
He checked his words.
"But I will not take up your time with medical and
parapsychological details, Mr. President. Suffice it to say that
seventeen years ago, the mind-link between Lady Morianna and myself
was severed. It has now been reforged. She can no longer hide from
me. I know where she is."
"Then you must
apprehend her at once, Derek," the President said, placing his
hands palms down upon the table.
"She is on a
planet located somewhere in Sector X-24, sir. General Ghia's sector.
I will need some time to search out
Within moments—just
as long as it would take to clear a room of thirty people—the
screen came back to life.
"Sagan. Thank you
for waiting."
The Warlord made no
response. The President was alone, the room empty. "Activate
scrambler."
That was to be
expected, considering the delicate nature of the discussion. Reaching
down, Sagan depressed a button. The annoying buzzing in his ears told
him that their conversation could now be held in strictest security.
The words spoken by each man were being transmitted in coded audio
impulses that could be understood by only these two alone. Although
it was highly unlikely that anyone could be monitoring their
conversation from the tight security of the sealed Cabinet Room or
from the equally tight security aboard Phoenix , this
conversation was far too dangerous to take even the tiniest fraction
of a chance.
"Continue,"
the President said. Now that they were alone, he did not bother to
control the eagerness of his expression. "Was he the one you
suspected? Did he have the boy? Is the boy with you?"
"I regret to
report that the boy escaped, Mr. President. However"—Derek
raised his bandaged hand, seeing the look of eagerness tighten to
anger—"I know who has him. I have a description of the
craft in which they fled. The alert has gone out to all sectors. But,
more important, I have now another, surer means to locate the boy. I
have no doubt that he will soon be within our grasp."
"I am glad that you have no doubts, Derek," Robes said in a low voice.
"As for leaving this in the hands of reckless bounty hunters—"
"If I may be
permitted to continue, sir, I will elaborate."
Frowning, the President
tapped a manicured fingernail on the table. He had no choice but to
listen, and both he and his Warlord knew it. Sagan also knew he would
be made to pay for this insubordination at some later date, but he
would worry about that later.
"I have discovered
the whereabouts of Lady Maigrey Morianna."
The Presidential
fingernail paused, the emotions on Robes's face were unreadable as he
absorbed this unforeseen information, rapidly assimilating in his
mind what it might mean to him.
"Indeed? I had no
idea she was still alive."
"I knew."
It was a flat answer,
carefully delivered. But the President was quick to catch it.
"Yes," he
said thoughtfully, "you must have known. She was . . . rather
special to you once, wasn't she, Derek?"
Sagan disdainfully
declined to answer such an impertinent question. His face
dispassionate, he regarded the President with the cool gaze of one
who waits patiently for a colleague to have his little joke and then
get on with the business at hand.
"No, no, my
friend. I was not referring to that !" Robes said with a
sly smile. "I refer to the fact that you two were . . . what did
they call it?" He made a graceful gesture with his hand. "Mental
. . . mental. ..."
"Mind-linked,
sir."
"Yes, mind-linked.
That was it. Quite a fascinating phenomenon. It occurred, as I
recall, only between those of the Blood Royal, and infrequently at
that. But tell me, Derek, if the woman was not dead, how is it that
she has escaped you all these years? The mind-link is not affected by
distance."
"No, sir."
Sagan discovered he had to steel himself to discuss the matter. He
had not supposed it would be this difficult. "The mind-link is
not affected by distance or by anything else in this universe
except—"
He checked his words.
"But I will not take up your time with medical and
parapsychological details, Mr. President. Suffice it to say that
seventeen years ago, the mind-link between Lady Morianna and myself
was severed. It has now been reforged. She can no longer hide from
me. I know where she is."
"Then you must
apprehend her at once, Derek," the President said, placing his
hands palms down upon the table.
"She is on a
planet located somewhere in Sector X-24, sir. General Ghia's sector.
I will need some time to search out
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