“Come, you skalworm,” Kateri said from behind the man. She glanced at Rina and winked as she pushed the man back into the other room.
“Tell them all to stay in place,” Rina said to her. “This retreat will only be temporary, until they regroup and are assigned another commander.”
Kateri withdrew. Rina resumed her pacing. That the mission had been successful she couldn’t doubt, the results were still spitting out of the speakers. What she did not know yet was at what cost.
The retreat would be, as she’d told Kateri, temporary. She had to hope Lyon and Shaina truly had a way to entrap those reinforcements.
The door burst open this time, unlike Bratus’s timid approach. Rina’s heart jumped as Tark strode into the room. She had a brief moment of concern when she saw his left arm was bloodied, but it vanished in the moment he swept her up in a strong embrace.
“They’re running like scalded slimehogs, and sounding about the same,” he said.
“I heard,” she said. “Every quarter of the city is reporting it.”
He kissed her then, so fiercely she wished they were alone back in his cave. So fiercely she thought her knees would not hold her. And then they didn’t, and she was sagging against him even as she kissed him back.
“You’re hurt,” she said, trying to think through the haze of heat and pleasure he so easily stirred in her. “Bleeding.”
“Not mine,” he said, and kissed her again. But at last he seemed to realize they had an audience. A young one.
He turned to the boy.
“Rayden,” he said. “It is your grandfather who needs tending.”
The boy’s eyes widened.
“It is but a scratch,” Tark said quickly. “He got it taking down a guard who tried to stop us. You should be very proud.”
The boy’s face lit up, and he scampered out into the chamber in search of his grandfather.
“However proud he is, it is nothing next to how proud I am,” Rina said.
Tark turned back to her. And she saw in his expression the truth of what Rayden had told her.
“Rina,” he said, and stopped, as if he couldn’t find the words. He even looked a little pale. She nearly smiled at the thought that this warrior who faced death again and again without quailing was shaken now. “I can make you no promise. This is war.”
“You are free from that need until this is over,” she told him.
He reached for her then, and for this moment she let herself settle into his arms as if they had all the time in the world.
“You’ve held Galatin once again, Bright Tarkson.”
He grimaced at the name, but said only, “For now.”
“And you will hold as long as necessary.”
“I will,” he said. “But I hope Dax gets here soon anyway.”
“He will. And the king will not be far behind.”
“Then we have a chance.”
She hugged him, ignoring the battle for the moment, thinking only that finally those words applied to them as well.
Chapter 46
“THEY HELD,” ROX exclaimed as the report over the slightly hissing connection ended. “The Coalition Ground Commander and half his staff are done for. The rest are scrambling madly.”
“Tark,” Dax said simply, but inwardly he was grinning.
“That boy is a fighter,” Hurcon said, a smile curving his heavy, Omegan face.
“Indeed he is,” Califa said, her voice oddly soft.
“I’m guessing his name is right alongside yours on the Coalition nightmare list,” Larcos said with a grin.
“Leave it to Tark to blow up their commander within hours of the first attack,” Rox said. He looked at Dax then. “There will be a lull, while they regroup.”
“Yes.” He saw in Rox’s eyes that the man knew what was coming. His first mate knew him well, after all these years.
“Once we were within range, I knew you wouldn’t be able to wait,” Rox said.
Dax turned to Larcos.
“It’s ready,” the engineer said before he even had to ask. “Armed, fueled, Galatin coordinates locked.”
“Am I so predictable?”
“Predictably reckless and insane, yes,” Larc said easily.
“She’s the fastest, most maneuverable thing we’ve ever built, Larc. And with the screening, she’s practically invisible.”
“Uh-huh. And it’s still the Coalition.”
“For now,” Dax said with a grin.
He looked at Califa. He saw the worry in her eyes, but also the steadiness of her gaze. “You must do what you must,” she said simply.
He kissed her then, fervently, thankfully. She had never asked him to be anything other than what he was, and he loved her all the more for that.
He turned to head back to the fighter bay. Nelcar, their medical officer, who had so far remained silent, spoke quietly as he passed.
“Bring them back safely, Dax.”
Dax felt his throat tighten. Many years had passed since they had flown together as the most feared skypirates in the system. But these men would ever back him, and they loved Rina and Shaina as if they were their own.
“I will,” he swore. He looked back over his shoulder at Rox. “Let Tark know I’m coming, or he’ll likely blast me out of the sky.”
“Copy that,” Rox said with a laugh that all of them echoed.
At last, Dax thought as he raced down the gangway to where the sleek, wedge-shaped fighter sat ready and waiting. He was finally doing something. Even if Shaina still hated him, she would be alive. He didn’t care just now if she threw stones at him, as long as she was there to do it.
“WHERE DO YOU suppose he went?” Shaina looked around warily for any sign of Mordred.
“No idea.” Lyon scanned the meadow. And found himself glad he saw nothing; he did not want the image of Mordred here etched into his mind. Not here, where they had first discovered that acceding to your destiny could be the most glorious thing on any world.
“I half expected to find him toasted, from throwing himself at the screen.”
“He did not rise to his position by being a fool,” Lyon said, his tongue instinctively testing the sore spot on his lip; it was better, but still tender enough to be a reminder. “But I do wonder how he escaped. If he did.”
“The screen,” she said. “I barely felt it at all when we passed. And I could see through it, some at least.”
“Perhaps it’s weakened.” Lyon turned. He picked up a stone and tossed it back the way they had come. There was a snap and a flash as it hit and bounced back. “Apparently not.”
“Odd,” she muttered. She turned back to look up toward the caves. Then, suddenly, she looked back toward the screen.
“What?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Nothing,” she muttered. “We should go.”
He nodded. “He could be hiding up in the cave, or one of the tunnels.”
“Perhaps he finally saw the treasure.”
“We will soon know.”
“The orb!” she said suddenly.
He’d almost forgotten. He reached into his pocket, pulled it out. It was only faintly dark, like a bruise beginning to fade.
“What does that mean?” she asked.
“Distance? Dead or dying? No longer a threat? I don’t know.”
“Bedamned thing should have come with instructions.”
He couldn’t help grinning at her tone. That his ever practical and literal-minded Shaina had accepted the stone had properties they could not explain was occasion enough, but that she accepted it enough to joke was even more amazing.
“Reason enough to be on guard,” he said as he put it back. “Let’s go.”
They had left the rover, hidd
en as best they could, outside the screen. It might have gone through with Lyon at the controls, but they hadn’t wanted to risk a transport that might be badly needed later.
Neither of them spoke as they crossed the meadow, although Lyon felt a slow pulse of heat begin in him as they passed the spot where they had come together for the first time. He gave Shaina a quick glance, and saw by the slight color in her cheeks that she was not immune. They had so much to learn of this, so much left to explore; he wished for nothing more than the chance to revisit that wondrous place again right now.
But they could not. They had a job to do, and even a moment stolen for themselves was impossible.
They entered the cave cautiously, taking care to make no noise, and pausing to listen often. No sound reached them. They worked their way around the cave. It seemed empty, but they stayed silent, not risking it. They took a quick glance at the niche, which still held the treasure, sans the orb. He saw her brow furrow, but she said nothing aloud or otherwise.
But there was a brief, silent discussion about whether to split up and check the two caves, or stay together.
Time, Shaina sent him.
Safety, he sent back, trying to hide that it was her he was worried about. Were it someone else, splitting up would be the logical course.
It didn’t work.
Right now, I’m a scout, she sent.
A scout. Not his mate. He let out a compressed breath. She was right, of course. This was too big to let anything interfere with what had to be done. He would just have to trust she could hold her own. And in reality, he would have before. It was only what had changed between them that had changed his outlook.
Then go, he sent.
He would have sworn that what she sent back was a kiss.
As it turned out, the split was a minor point. The first cave on the left, the one she took, indeed curved to meet the second several hundred yards in, about a half a mile, he guessed. But the middle tunnel kept going. And going.
They moved as quickly as they dared, ever watchful to the rear this time, and pausing to listen. They used only the faintest light setting on the flarelight from the rover, just enough to get past any hazards on the tunnel floor. They went on and on, the cave twisting deep into the mountain, until he thought perhaps it might indeed go all the way. It was narrow, however, and would accommodate only three, maybe four fighters abreast, fewer in spots. That could cause a bottleneck, but perhaps the wider spots they encountered would balance that.
They had gone what seemed like miles. The air was stale, but breathable. The darkness was total, and the faint beam vanished mere feet ahead of them. They continued on. And on. He did not know the exact diameter of this ancient peak, and the tunnel was not straight, but it seemed as if—
On the thought, they hit a dead end. There was no warning, no shrinking of the tunnel’s dimensions; the tunnel simply ended in a nearly flat wall of rock.
He ran the flarelight’s beam over the surface. Then he upped the setting a notch and got a clearer view. It made no difference—it appeared to be solid rock.
“Of course,” Shaina muttered, running her hands over the seemingly impenetrable wall, searching for a weakness. She found nothing. “Perfect. And us without a single bit of nitron.”
“That would probably bring the whole thing down on us,” Lyon said, tacitly agreeing with her that they hadn’t been followed, this time at least.
“Disrupter?”
“I think it would take more power than we have.”
“Too bad we can’t get the rover in here. Those side guns might do it.”
“But we don’t know how far we need to go.”
“I’d swear we walked the breadth of this mountain. It can’t be that far to break through.”
“Far enough, in solid rock.”
Shaina sighed. She curled her hand and hit the wall with the side of her fist. “What we need,” she muttered, “is my father and his blessed bow.”
“Indeed,” Lyon said carefully, watching her for any sign of the old anger. He saw none, but didn’t know if it meant she had gotten past it, or it had merely been overshadowed by the urgency of the situation. “Let’s send Rina the coordinates. Perhaps she can extrapolate how far we are from the outside.”
Shaina glanced around at the suddenly heavier-seeming walls. “If we can even get it through to her.”
“If not voice, then by burst. If not burst, then I will make note and we will head back until we can.”
“My ever-patient Lyon,” she said softly.
Her use of his name, the possessiveness in her words, and the huskiness of her voice fired a vivid image in his mind, of moments when he was buried inside her and far from patient.
“Not always,” he said.
She reached out, took his hand. The jolt he felt told him she was thinking the same thing; and the wonder of what they had found, when they had thought there was no more to learn about each other, nearly swamped him.
It took all his self-control to dig out his locater and take a simple reading.
Chapter 47
RINA GRINNED AT the roar that went up the moment the sleek little fighter dropped out of a cloud. She’d last seen it in the air on the final test flight. Dax had planned to unveil it at the ceremony, she knew.
The ceremony that would have been today, she realized.
The gathered crowd knew it was Dax. Somehow word had gotten out from the moment Rox had sent the message. She had little doubt the Coalition knew it as well; the message had not been encoded. And that, too, was Dax. He knew well enough the effect his name would have. And that his presence would make even the Coalition tread carefully—especially knowing that where Dax was, the ship that had wreaked havoc on them both here and on Trios was close at hand. If they knew of the new version of the Evening Star, they’d be even more worried.
The fighter slowed, pivoted in place and, narrowly missing the pile of shattered stone that was all that was left of the fence, dropped neatly into the courtyard of the Council Building.
“I see he’s lost none of his flair,” Tark said dryly.
She glanced at him. He gave her a sideways look in turn. One corner of his mouth curved upward, and she knew he was looking forward to this.
The hatch opened, and the roar went up anew as Dax stepped out. To the gathered Arellians he looked much as he had all those years ago: tall, strong, dark hair lifting in the breeze. He was even dressed the same, loose white shirt tucked into dark leggings, the knee-high boots, one holding a lethal dagger, the other the powerful bolts in small pockets stitched along the top.
He reached back into the small fighter and pulled something out by a heavy strap, then slung it across his back.
The flashbow. Everyone on Arellia would recognize the sleek, silver weapon, she thought.
The shouts came wildly as Dax scanned the throng.
“The flashbow!”
“Dax!”
“Skypirate!”
He gave them a wave, which raised the sound level a bit more, but his eyes never stopped searching.
He found them. Rina saw him register her presence with a smile, but then his gaze shifted to the man beside her. For a moment he went very still, as if he hadn’t really believed it until now. A huge, joyous grin formed, and he leapt easily down from the fighter. He crossed the distance between them at a run.
It began as a handshake, but Dax bent his arm and pulled Tark toward him, to clap him soundly on the back. After an instant’s hesitation, Tark returned the gesture, as close as two fighting men would get to a public embrace, Rina guessed with a wide smile.
“You son of a skalworm, I should fry you right here for letting me think you dead all these years.”
Tark looked slightly embarrassed. “It seemed a good idea at the time.”
<
br /> “Well, it wasn’t,” Dax said. He released him, but held him with a steady gaze. “You were the one true regret we were never able to let go of.”
Tark lowered his gaze, clearly self-conscious about the heartfelt emotion. He would learn, Rina thought. When she brought him home to Trios, he would learn.
“So,” Dax went on, “it’s a bedamned good thing you changed your mind.”
Tark flicked a glance at her. “I’ve come to think differently.”
Dax released him then, and turned to her. He leaned in, cupped her face, and planted a kiss on her forehead. “That’s my girl.” Then he looked at Tark and grinned again. “Or at least, she was. Somehow I think that’s changed.”
“Everything has changed,” Tark answered. He squeezed her hand as he said it, and from that small gesture her heart soared.
“Show me where we are,” he said. “Same place?”
Tark nodded. He glanced back at the sleek fighter. “You sure you want to leave it in the open? They’ll be back as soon as they regroup.”
Dax grinned. He reached into his pocket and brought out a small device with two glowing buttons on it. “Leave what?” he said as he clicked the blue one.
The fighter vanished. There was nothing there but the rubble from the fence.
Tark stared. Rina grinned.
“I see Larc got the veiling perfected,” she said.
“He did indeed.”
Tark’s mouth curved into a smile. “He is still with you?”
“They all are, save Qantar. We lost him last year.”
Tark nodded, signaling he remembered the man. “I recall thinking that he had died inside a lot longer ago.”
Dax smiled sadly then. “Yes. But he recovered some joy, and passed peacefully where his family had died. He was content.”
“A simple but powerful goal,” Rina said, looking at Tark. Above all, she wished him content. And she would have it, she vowed.
Much of the crowd followed them, entranced by Dax’s arrival in the flesh, and tried to cram into the outer room. She couldn’t blame them. Dax and Tark to fight together again was history being written as they breathed. But only the men Tark trusted—and Rayden—were allowed into the tactical room.
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