Free The Lost King by Margaret Weis

nodded and started
to walk in the direction Tusk indicated, when the mercenary caught
hold of him.
    "I sort of came in
on the tail end of things with . . . uh . . . your master and the
Warlord. I don't suppose you heard anything about why a Warlord as
powerful as Derek Sagan wants you bad enough to . . . uh"—Tusk
was about to say kill a man but the sight of Dion's rigid face
made him change his mind—"disrupt a planet."
    Dion stared straight
ahead. "Let go of me."
    "I'm sorry."
Tusk backed off. "I understand. I guess it doesn't matter. Just
one of those little pieces of information I can live for a real long
time without knowing."
    Out of the corner of
his eye, he saw one of the red and golden hoverjeeps pull to a stop
at the end of the street. "At least I hope so!" he amended.
    "XJ? You got the
circuitry fixed?"
    Tusk slid down the
ladder into the body of the spaceplane. Dion followed quickly, but
almost not quickly enough. The hatch was shutting while he still had
his hand on the rim and he just managed to snatch back his fingers in
time to keep them from being smashed to a pulp. Engines fired. A
tremor shook the plane, causing Dion to slip on the ladder, and land
heavily on the deck.
    Tusk was already in the
cockpit; Dion saw the top of his curly-haired head disappear down the
ladder and then every thing went dark.
    "All systems
shutting down for launch," the computer announced. Dion stood
crouched on the deck, afraid to move. Red emergency lights flickered
on, casting an eerie glow, making everything in the plane seem
strange, less real than a dream. The boy groped his way forward, and
had reached the ladder leading into the cockpit when a black shape
suddenly loomed up in front of him.
    "Kid? Oh, there
you are."
    Grabbing hold of him by
the shirt collar, Tusk yanked the boy down the ladder, literally
tossing him into a chair.
    "Sit and keep
quiet!"
    Bruised and shaken,
more tired than he would admit, Dion sat, nursing a cut on his hand
inflicted by a sharp metal edge on the ladder. Leaning over in front
of the boy, Tusk hit a button. Sturdy plastic arms swung up from
below the chair and clamped firmly over Dion's thighs and upper body.
The boy nearly jumped out of his skin, but realized after a moment
that the arms were only fastening him securely. He was not being made
a prisoner.
    In the seat beside him,
Tusk was busy flipping switches and checking readings.
    "Scared?" he
asked, taking time to glance at his passenger and noting the clenched
jaw muscles, the hands curled over the armrests of the chair.
    "No." Dion
forced himself to relax.
    "Had any brains,
you would be," XJ remarked.
    "I asked you about
the circuitry," Tusk said to the computer. "Or has your
audio gone bad?"
    "I heard you."
    "Well, why didn't
you answer?"
    "Ignorance is
bliss."
    "Look, dammit, can
we launch, or is something going to short out?"
    "Tusk," XJ
said, "have you ever reflected on the fact that life is an
endless series of questions? Why are we born? Where are we bound? Can
we launch, or is something going to short out?"
    Tusk muttered beneath
his breath.
    "No swearing!"
the computer snapped. "You know how it irritates me. Here, you
better listen to this. At least it will give you something
constructive to swear about if you must resort to such—"
    Words trailing off, the
computer's voice was replaced by an official-sounding human.
    "General Grounding
Order. Repeat. General Grounding Order. Corasian vessels have been
sighted near this quadrant. The forces of the Galactic Democratic
Republic have placed the planet Syrac Seven under martial law by
order of Warlord Derek Sagan until the current emergency situation is
alleviated. Until such time as this report of enemy alien craft can
be confirmed, all spacecraft are hereby grounded for their own
protection—"
    "Corasians?"
Dion shouted over the drone of the official voice. "Who are
they?"
    "A bunch of weird
alien life-forms who live in the galaxy next door," Tusk
answered.