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into this trap! What do I do? What can I do?
    His heart raced;
his hands began to sweat and he wiped them on his flight suit. He
forgot about the Warlord, forgot to wonder why Sagan had gone through
that charade, pretending the transmitter was broken, relaying a false
message.
    Tusk, Nola, John
Dixter . . . dying. Maybe already dead, all because of me.
    "Did you
say something, sir?'
    "Yes, is
that Defiant I can see out there now?"
    "Yes, sir. Defiant confirmed "
    The destroyer
glimmered white in the eternal night of deepspace. Dion could see
dogfights raging around it— probably some of the mercenaries
who still had their freedom, attacking Sagan's forces, trying to aid
the captives trapped inside the ship. Dion stared at the destroyer,
swore bitterly beneath his breath. This wasn’t going to be
easy.
    First, I have to
find a way to get on board, he thought. That shouldn’t prove
too difficult. But once I'm on board, I have to reach the hangar
decks without getting myself killed or captured in the process.
    "Call up a
blueprint of that destroyer," he ordered the computer.
    "I beg your
pardon, sir?"
    "A
blueprint! A diagram. You know, what the ship looks like if it's
sliced open. "
    "Yes, sir,"
the computer murmured. A short interval passed and then an image
appeared on the screen. "Is this what you want, sir 3 "
    "Yes."
Dion studied it. "Next shot. Quickly. I want to see the entire
ship."
    "Yes, sir."
    Diagrams flashed
on and off. He absorbed each one, the images imprinted on his
photographic memory.
    A voice came
over his commlink.
    "We have
you in our sights, spaceplane. Identify yourself, and approach no
closer."
    "This is
Eagle One," stated the computer with some asperity. "Lord
Sagan's private plane. Please be so good as to—"
    "We have
received a report that Eagle One has been stolen. You have thirty
seconds to identify yourself'
    The computer
sounded baffled, unable to cope with the situation. "Stolen!
That report is completely false and erroneous. I would know if my
ship had been stolen or not and it has not. I repeat, Defiant, this is Eagle One, Lord Sagan's private—"
    "Fifteen
seconds and counting, spaceplane."
    Dion could see,
or imagined he could see, one of the gigantic lascannons swiveling
around to his direction. So this is Sagan's plan . . . get rid of me.
No fuss. No muss. Nothing left behind except a few little specks of
dust.
    Dion drew a deep
breath.
    "Thank the
Creator!" he screeched. Fortunately, he didn't have to pretend
to be frightened. "I didn't think anyone was going to notice me!
I—I got chased by one of the Corasians and I'm lost. I'm trying
to get back to Phoenix." .
    Silence on the
commlink, voices in the background, talking to each other.
    "Who the
hell is that?'
    "Dunno.
Sounds like some kid."
    "Who the
hell is this?' The voice returned to him.
    "Dion. Dion
Starfire." The young man paused, waiting. Sweat trickled down
his neck into his flight suit.
    The voices were
conferring again. "Starfire? Isn't that—"
    "Yeah.
That's the kid. The one who might be king, if you believe—"
    "King?
Shit! What in the name of Lucifer is he doing wandering around out
there in the middle of a battle? And we received a report that that
plane was stolen!"
    "Hell,
remember when you were sixteen and took daddy's floater without
permission? What did your old man do?"
    "Turned me
over to the cops. Taught me a lesson, I guess. At least the next time
I stole it I took it off-world. Hey, kid. Starfire."
    "I'm here.
Say, can you tell me what it means when a red light starts flashing
above a dial marked fuel?"
    Silence.
    The voice
returned and was very calm, very soothing. "I think it might be
a good idea if you skipped going back to Phoenix. Come and
visit us for a while, kid."
    "Is there a
problem?"
    "No! No.
Let us check that gauge for you. Probably a malfunctioning indicator
switch. Happens all the time in those new prototype planes. We're
gonna lock a tractor beam on to