Free King's Test by Margaret Weis Page B

headed for Sagan's
private plane, and Maigrey feared she'd made a mistake. The officer
never glanced at it, passed it right by. He strode rapidly to the far
end of the hangar bay. Here stood several Scimitars—several
wrecked Scimitars.
    "I was
right," she murmured. "You bastard!"
    The major
gestured, "Here's your ticket to freedom."
    "You expect
us to fly out in those?" Maigrey demanded.
    "I don't
expect nothing. I'm not wearing a dead man's flight suit. What are
you' 3 An escaped prisoner, figured you'd sneak away in the
confusion? Or maybe a deserter? All you got to worry about is the kid
here"—the major jerked a thumb at the young pilot—"but
I don't think he'll turn you in. He's too anxious to get off
himself."
    Maigrey glanced
at the young pilot, saw his face flush, then harden. He was only a
trainee pilot; the Scimitar pin on his uniform was silver, not gold.
She wondered what he'd been busted for; something pretty serious, to
make him this desperate.
    The major leaned
near, clamped his heavy hand over Maigrey's shoulder. The man would
probably never know just how close he came to having it snapped off
at the wrist. "You fly that plane out." He pointed at one
of the wrecks. "The kid'll take the other one."
    "You're
crazy! An experienced pilot couldn't fly that plane! You can't expect
this . . . this cadet to—" Maigrey turned to the young
pilot. "How many hours have you logged?"
    "Enough."
The young man's tone was defensive.
    A calm voice
over the loudspeakers announced that the last of the evac ships were
leaving.
    "You better
hurry," Maigrey said to the major, "or you'll miss your
flight. And take the kid here with you."
    The major
shrugged. "The prison evac already left. If the kid wants off
this bomb, he can either fly that Scimitar or walk. Same with vou."
    He took off at a
dead run. Maigrey was half-inclined to stop him, not certain what
she'd do to him, but plenty certain she'd enjoy doing it.
    "It's all
right, Starlady!" the young pilot said. "Really. I'll fly
the plane."
    Startled at his
recognition, trying not to show it. Maigrey glanced at him, shook her
head. "Were you talking to me? I'm afraid you have the wrong—?"
    "Oh, I know
who you are." The young pilot smiled grimly. "The Warlord's
Starlady. I saw you fight Lord Sagan. The major will figure out who
you are, too, eventually. And when he does, he'll kick himself. He
could have made a lot more money off you than he will off that
jewel."
    "Yeah."
Maigrey was examining both spaceplanes, only half-listening. "Look,
kid. We don't have much time. This first plane's not in too bad
shape. I think I can get it as far as Defiant , at least. Come
with me—" Reaching out, she laid her hand on his arm.
    He moved away
from her touch, shaking his head. "No! I need this flight. I'll
prove I can handle myself this time! I'm off the jump-juice. And
maybe this'll make up for—" The young pilot checked what
he had been about to say. Turning, he headed for the Scimitar,
    I could club
him, knock him out, drag him aboard my plane. Maigrey thought. How
many other young hotheads has that bastard major "helped"
to escape or desert? How nam have died? She could hear, some distance
away, an evac ship warming its engines, preparing for takeoff. She
and this kid were probably among the last few remaining on Phoenix. Her gaze went to Sagan's plane, which was ready, waiting.
    After all. I've
got my own problems, she reminded herself ! have responsibilities
and—
    "Oh, hell!"
Maigrey ran after the pilot, caught him as he was scrambling up the
ladder of the charred and battered plane,
    "Don't try
it!" She shouted to be heard over the roar of the engines, the
gong warning everyone to clear the area, the shivering rattle of the
hangar bay doors, preparing to open. "Come with me:'
    The young man
either didn't hear or he was pretending he didn't. He waved his hand
to her jauntily, climbed down into the cockpit.
    Well, I did what
I could,