Read Online Ghost Legion by Margaret Weis - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Margaret Weis
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been the days. Just him and
XJ-27. As long as he'd had money enough to buy jump-juice and spare
parts for his spaceplane, Tusk hadn't given a damn about anything.
Now he had a wife, a child, two more kids on the way. . . . It'd be
good to go back, just for a little while.
Coming out, he found Nola sitting in the chair, holding her son in
her overlarge lap, singing to him quietly. Tusk stopped a moment to
look at them. John was yawning, rubbing his eyes fretfully. It was
nap time. Nola laid his head against her breast, began to rock him
back and forth. He struggled against sleep a moment, then gave in.
His eyelids drooped. Nola lay her cheek against the curly head, held
her child close.
Tears stung Tusk's eyes. He couldn't believe how much he loved her,
how precious she was to him, how precious his son was. Yeah, he'd
beaten a Warlord, been a king-maker. But who'd fought at his side?
She had. The thought of leaving her, leaving his son, leaving them
both for a long time, maybe forever . . .
He turned abruptly, put a coin in the machine, got another beer. He
held on to it tightly, drew a couple of deep breaths, drank a swallow
to clear the choking sensation in his throat.
Back to the old life. The old, lonely, empty life.
Going over to Nola, he put his hand on her shoulder, pulled her close
to him. She pressed her head against his thigh.
"What are you thinking?" he asked, stroking her hair.
She wore her hair clipped short because of the heat. He thought back
to the first time he'd seen her, sitting in Dixter's sweltering
office. Short, pudgy, freckle-faced, snippy ... Tusk had taken an
immediate dislike to her. She hadn't thought much of him.
Nola was smiling.
"I was thinking about the time when we were on Sagan's ship,
getting ready to fight the Corasians. I was thinking about what you
said to me." She raised her head, looked up at him. "Do you
remember? You said, 'All I know is that when I'm with you, I can do
things I never thought I could do. If there's a way to beat this
thing, it'll take us together to do it.'"
She couldn't go on. Lowering her head over the baby's, she began to
cry.
"Don't," he whispered. "Don't, sweetheart."
"Damn hormones!" she sobbed.
"I won't go," Tusk said, bending down to put his arms
around her and around his slumbering son. "Not without you. I
don't know what made me think I ever could."
Chapter Six
. . . married past redemption.
John Dryden, Marriage a la Mode
Dion Starfire stood in front of the full-length mirror, studying his
reflection. He observed himself critically, carefully adjusting the
sleeves of the black uniform jacket to permit only a proper fraction
of white shirt cuff to show beneath them. The knife-edged crease of
his black trousers fell in a correct line to the tops of the
high-gloss black shoes. The jacket was darted in at the waist,
emphasizing the king's fine physique.
He shook out his red-gold hair, thick and luxuriant. He wore it long,
rampant, like a lion's mane. The red hair had become his symbol; that
and the lion-faced sun. The two were often combined by political
cartoonists. Red hair was quite the fashion these days. The galaxy
over, young men were wearing their hair long and having it dyed.
He could see, in the mirror, the reflection of the servbot
approaching, carrying a purple sash.
"No," Dion told the 'bot, not taking his eyes from his
image. "I'm not wearing either that or the medals today."
"Very good, sir. May I inquire if His Majesty plans to wear the
full regalia for the formal dinner?"
The servbot had been programmed at the finest training facility for
gentleman's gentlemen in the galaxy. It was familiar with all forms
of etiquette practiced galaxy-wide, could recommend the proper
neckwear for any occasion, knew what wine went with what dish, kept
His Majesty's social calendar for the next five years in its computer
brain, and would kill on command.
"Yes. The media will be there."
The blue eyes, the Starfire eyes, with their intense and
XJ-27. As long as he'd had money enough to buy jump-juice and spare
parts for his spaceplane, Tusk hadn't given a damn about anything.
Now he had a wife, a child, two more kids on the way. . . . It'd be
good to go back, just for a little while.
Coming out, he found Nola sitting in the chair, holding her son in
her overlarge lap, singing to him quietly. Tusk stopped a moment to
look at them. John was yawning, rubbing his eyes fretfully. It was
nap time. Nola laid his head against her breast, began to rock him
back and forth. He struggled against sleep a moment, then gave in.
His eyelids drooped. Nola lay her cheek against the curly head, held
her child close.
Tears stung Tusk's eyes. He couldn't believe how much he loved her,
how precious she was to him, how precious his son was. Yeah, he'd
beaten a Warlord, been a king-maker. But who'd fought at his side?
She had. The thought of leaving her, leaving his son, leaving them
both for a long time, maybe forever . . .
He turned abruptly, put a coin in the machine, got another beer. He
held on to it tightly, drew a couple of deep breaths, drank a swallow
to clear the choking sensation in his throat.
Back to the old life. The old, lonely, empty life.
Going over to Nola, he put his hand on her shoulder, pulled her close
to him. She pressed her head against his thigh.
"What are you thinking?" he asked, stroking her hair.
She wore her hair clipped short because of the heat. He thought back
to the first time he'd seen her, sitting in Dixter's sweltering
office. Short, pudgy, freckle-faced, snippy ... Tusk had taken an
immediate dislike to her. She hadn't thought much of him.
Nola was smiling.
"I was thinking about the time when we were on Sagan's ship,
getting ready to fight the Corasians. I was thinking about what you
said to me." She raised her head, looked up at him. "Do you
remember? You said, 'All I know is that when I'm with you, I can do
things I never thought I could do. If there's a way to beat this
thing, it'll take us together to do it.'"
She couldn't go on. Lowering her head over the baby's, she began to
cry.
"Don't," he whispered. "Don't, sweetheart."
"Damn hormones!" she sobbed.
"I won't go," Tusk said, bending down to put his arms
around her and around his slumbering son. "Not without you. I
don't know what made me think I ever could."
Chapter Six
. . . married past redemption.
John Dryden, Marriage a la Mode
Dion Starfire stood in front of the full-length mirror, studying his
reflection. He observed himself critically, carefully adjusting the
sleeves of the black uniform jacket to permit only a proper fraction
of white shirt cuff to show beneath them. The knife-edged crease of
his black trousers fell in a correct line to the tops of the
high-gloss black shoes. The jacket was darted in at the waist,
emphasizing the king's fine physique.
He shook out his red-gold hair, thick and luxuriant. He wore it long,
rampant, like a lion's mane. The red hair had become his symbol; that
and the lion-faced sun. The two were often combined by political
cartoonists. Red hair was quite the fashion these days. The galaxy
over, young men were wearing their hair long and having it dyed.
He could see, in the mirror, the reflection of the servbot
approaching, carrying a purple sash.
"No," Dion told the 'bot, not taking his eyes from his
image. "I'm not wearing either that or the medals today."
"Very good, sir. May I inquire if His Majesty plans to wear the
full regalia for the formal dinner?"
The servbot had been programmed at the finest training facility for
gentleman's gentlemen in the galaxy. It was familiar with all forms
of etiquette practiced galaxy-wide, could recommend the proper
neckwear for any occasion, knew what wine went with what dish, kept
His Majesty's social calendar for the next five years in its computer
brain, and would kill on command.
"Yes. The media will be there."
The blue eyes, the Starfire eyes, with their intense and
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