The Bastard Prince (Blue Moon Rising Book 3)

by Blair Bancroft

  Tal leaned against the upper bunk, his face bleak as he looked down at the mass of black hair Kass had confined in the not-a-hair-out-of-place knot she considered suitable for Pegasus’s bridge. There had been too many bumps in the road lately, too much tension, too many quarrels. “I’m sorry, Kass. I know every setback hurts, that you want it over. And all I can offer is ‘Wait, hang on while we build our forces, find strategies that might work.’ I jumped into this all starry-eyed with ideals I should have lost after ten years in Fleet. If I’d had any idea how tough it was going to be . . .”

  He huffed a sigh. “No. I couldn’t have done anything else. If I’d stayed in Fleet, I wouldn’t have met you, nor K’kadi, M’lani, Jagan, B’aela, your parents—all the amazing people who have chosen to follow us. I wouldn’t have the feeling of power, of satisfaction that I’m doing what’s right. And this is right, Kass, no matter how painful.”

  “I beg your pardon,” Kass whispered, not looking up, “but sometimes the future seems so far away.”

  Tal swooped down and gathered her up for a long hug. “Come, dushenka, let’s find the others and get something to eat. There’s nothing like kafi and something fried and fatty to cheer up the day.”

  K’kadi sat with his back to the bulkhead in the ship’s modest-sized mess, enjoying the meal they’d postponed during final approach to Kass’s nonexistent wormhole. He swallowed hard, feeling her pain. The disappointment was his as well. He’d been ready—no, eager to show he could do what was needed. Cloak Pegasus so well the Regs would have no idea a rebel ship was within a parsec of Regula Prime. And now, fizzet, more waiting. More sitting around with nothing to do. Alala was probably thinking the gate’s disappearance was all his fault.

  “May I sit with you, Daman Amund?”

  Startled, K’kadi stared up at the ship’s Comm officer—the ship’s very young Comm officer—who happened to be Captain Lassan’s daughter. Shimmering pools of violet stared at him from a well-shaped face framed in straight blonde hair several shades darker than his own. Little about her well-proportioned figure was left to the imagination in a dark blue uniform that clung like a second skin. K’kadi’s fork froze half-way to his mouth, but somehow he managed a nod which he could only hope was graceful. Good manners were a requirement, after all, even for a bastard prince.

  “It’s all right,” she said, as she settled herself across from him. “You are K’kadi, and I know you can’t talk. I am Talora.” She reached a hand across the table and K’kadi took it. She was . . . warm. Friendly. Genuine. And curious. Yet she did not consider him a sexual challenge, as did most of the females who dared approach him, even the Psyclids. That was good. And Talora was a nice name. It had an almost Psyclid sound.

  “A disappointment, not finding the wormhole. Do you think the other will be there?”

  K’kadi, unaccustomed to light conversation, considered the question with gravity. He had seen the future, he was certain of it. Unless he was a madman, as some people thought, a back door to Regulon space had to exist or Tal and Kass would be old and gray before the empire fell. Solemnly, he nodded.

  “Oh good!” Talora’s smile faded as she stared at his set features. “Don’t you ever smile? I’d heard you were great fun, but ever since you came on board, you’ve been the great stone face.”

  K’kadi peered at her from under his pale lashes. His lips twitched. A swift glance around the room revealed none but members of the Pegasus crew. A replica of his face suddenly appeared over his head. The lips expanded into an exaggerated grin. A sun sprang up behind the head, shooting golden rays in a sparkling 360-degree display.

  “Oh!” Talora cried, clapping her hands. “That’s wonderful!” Gasps echoed through the ship’s mess as others gazed in awe at K’kadi’s illusion. Which abruptly winked out. K’kadi ducked his head, forked up a mouthful of food, and proceeded to ignore Talora as if she didn’t exist.

  Alala stalked across the room. Arms akimbo, she glared down at him. “You make pictures for her when—” She broke off her intended words in mid-sentence. Could she be any more foolish? Revealing her anger because K’kadi was creating illusions for someone else after she had objected so strongly to his making them for her. Clearly, she was as crazy as he.

  Talora—under orders to defer to their guests—pushed back her chair, preparing to leave. No! rang loud and clear in her head. K’kadi’s fingers clamped down hard on her arm. Sit. Stunned, she resumed her seat.

  K’kadi turned his attention to Alala, everything from the piercing intensity of his azure eyes to the tilt of his chin and the set of his shoulders making it clear he was issuing a challenge. Friends stay. Invitation and ultimatum. Accept him for what he was, illusions and all. Or else.

  Alala clenched her fists, her thoughts whirling. Or else was a cold, dark place. How could she call herself a warrior and be unable to deal with the oddities of the universe?

  Not that it was going to be easy—cradle teachings were hard to overcome—but somehow she would learn. The lid to a chest full of new concepts was creaking open—for a while she’d thought it the lethal Pandora’s Box of ancient tales, but perhaps this chest was opening onto an entirely new life. Something beyond her wildest fantasies.

  Meekly, Alala pulled up a chair and sat down.

  “Goddess be praised, it’s there!” Kass’s fingers dug into Tal’s arm as everyone on the bridge stared at the shimmering gateway just coming into view.

  “Traffic?” Dagg Lassan asked. A question he’d posed regularly for the last two hundred marks.

  “Nothing, sir.”

  Lassan turned to Tal. “Captain?”

  “Check all systems yet again, then take her in.”

  Tears misted Kass’s eyes as Pegasus made her way into the wormhole. No matter where it came out, this was vindication. She hadn’t got it wrong. There really was a back door into Reg space. And as long as K’kadi worked his magic, no one would know they were there.

  It seemed to take forever, but less than six hours passed before warning bells rang and Tal nodded to K’kadi, smiled encouragingly, and said, “Now.” Pegasus, cloaked from prying eyes, poked her nose into Regulon space. At least they hoped it was Reg space. Kass was breathing so shallowly she felt dizzy. Where, where, where . . . ?

  “Nav?” Dagg Lassan snapped.

  “Regula Prime straight ahead, sir. We’re ten thousand six hundred marks off polar north.”

  Cheers rang out as Kass staggered and Tal clutched her tight. “A bit closer than I’d like,” he announced, “but congratulations to all. Well done.”

  “You’ve got your back door, Captain, Lassan said. “What now? Do we mark the coordinates and head for home?”

  Tal looked out at the blue, green, and brown orb that was the planet of his birth. The planet that had held his unquestioned loyalty for more than thirty years. The planet that was home to father, mother, sister, brother, and relatives too numerous to count. “K’kadi, how long can you hold the cloak?”

  Long.

  “Are you sure?”

  Yes.

  “Then let’s explore a bit. Captain, set course for a circumnavigation at fifty thousand meters. That should keep us beneath any spacers and above local air traffic.”

  “Circumnavigation!” Kass protested. “That’s tempting fate.”

  “We’ll abort if we have to, or if K’kadi feels he’s tiring.”

  No problem.

  Tal believed him. They’d all seen the new steel in King Ryal’s youngest child.

  Alala stared, as fascinated as everyone else, as Regula Prime grew from a glowing sphere in the distance to a giant orb with continents clearly visible—much like the view of Psyclid from Blue Moon—to a broad expanse of sun-lit land, with mountain ranges and oceans that reminded her of the rugged crags and vast seas of Hercula. A sobering reflection. They were scouting for a war of Reg against Reg, a war that could not be won without the aid of both Psys and Hercs.

  All her life, she’d thought war made sens
e. How else could they hold off the Regs, the Nyx, and a horde of pirates? They’d tried to survive as merchants, but in their part of the sector an iron fist was needed. Hercula for the Herculons. That was their battle cry, and they’d managed to hold firm. But join with the rebels against the power of the Empire? That could well be suicide.

  Pegasus was close enough now so they could see, with the aid of minimal magnification, that Regula was as prosperous as one would expect. Gleaming cities, small towns, endless fields of crops, mountains, valleys, lakes, oceans. Ten spaceports, she’d heard the captain say. Psyclid had two, Hercula three. Once again, she wondered at the temerity of the rebels.

  Surreptitiously, out of the corner of her eye Alala glanced at K’kadi. He was just sitting there, sprawled in a leather-upholstered swivel chair, looking as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Bored, in fact. And perhaps he was. She could only hope boredom didn’t trigger one of the episodes of inattention he was famous for. Not that she cared if his pride was damaged, of course, but if his control slipped, they could all be dead.

  “Coming up on Titan,” Nav announced. Alala could feel the charge of electricity that swept the bridge. This was it. The capital city. Fleet headquarters. Captain Rigel’s fingers were white-knuckled around the arms of his chair. Interesting. Alala would have sworn S’sorrokan didn’t do white knuckles. Even Kass, whose royal training could likely keep her face calm in the midst of a volcanic eruption, was also showing signs of anxiety. Memories? Alala had heard the famous tale of how the rebellion started. So no wonder Kass looked strained. And it must be worse for the captain. His planet. His people.

  For a moment Alala experienced an inkling of why the Psyclids were pacifists. She shivered, goosebumps rising on her arms, as if all her ancestors had suddenly cried out in protest at such an heretical thought.

  A distant rumble. Pegasus hiccuped, shivered, a soft but wrenching groan echoing from strained bulkheads.

  Regula Prime forgotten, every eye swung toward Dagg Lassan. “All stations, report.” Steady as his voice was, no one missed his underlying alarm.

  Voices snapped out a rapid response. All but one.

  “Engineering, report!”

  Silence.

  “Comm?”

  “No response from Engineering, sir.”

  “Shaye, take over,” Lassan snapped. “Captain, if you’ll join me . . .” Dagg and Tal ran for the lift that would take them down to the engine room.

  Alala took another look at K’kadi. His azure eyes had sharpened to full alert, his body tense as if coiled to spring. Could he maintain an invisibility cloak if they crashed?

  Did it matter? They’d likely all be dead.

  Chapter 9

  “Losing momentum,” Helm intoned.

  “Auxiliary engines,” Shaye Lassan ordered.

  “Auxiliaries engaged.” A palpable wave of relief swept the bridge as Pegasus steadied.

  “How long?” Kass spoke quietly, for the First Officer’s ears only.

  “Ninety minutes, perhaps a bit more.”

  Enough to land. But perhaps not enough to find a sheltered spot.

  “Ma’am?” The helmsman’s voice overrode Kass’s next question. “Helm is not responding. I have no control.”

  “Try a shallow dive, Mr. Melkan,” Shaye ordered.

  A few moments later, “Nothing, ma’am. It’s like someone cut the connection.”

  “Back-up?” Kass interjected.

  “Tried that, Ma’am—ah—Dama Rigel . . . Your Highness.”

  Can do.

  Kass turned to K’kadi. Can you fly this thing?

  Yes.

  Are you sure?

  You too? K’kadi’s reproach, even a hint of bitterness, came through loud and clear.

  Sorry, but that’s asking a lot from fifty thousand meters.

  Drop like stone. Soon.

  At that moment Tal charged back onto the bridge, pausing just inside the entryway. “Explosion in the engine room. Restart negative. Kass, K’kadi, what can you do for us?”

  “K’kadi” Kass said aloud, then switched to mind speak, not wanting to frighten the crew any more than they already were. Pray you’re right, Brother, and we can move Pegasus. But where? And even if we find a spot, can we land her?

  Small ship. Can do. K’kadi turned to Tal. Need map. Nav help.

  For a moment Tal hesitated. Kass suspected he was struggling to shave aside the irony of the life or death of the rebellion coming down to the decidedly odd and frequently unstable talents of a royal bastard and his princess sister. “Nav,” Tal said to Romy, the Lassan’s elder son, “we need a landing site. What have you got?”

  “Not much, sir. Ocean . . . dense forest. Highways too narrow . . . will a beach do? There’s broad sand north of the city. Seems deserted—guess it’s winter down there.”

  Kass stifled a wince as she pictured the landing. Sand would scatter in every direction, probably splashing shallow water hundreds of meters and digging a hole the depth of a canal. All it would take to spread the alarm was one person hiking, fishing, just out for a breath of fresh air . . . And on the edge of the ocean they’d be totally exposed. But what choice did they have? This wasn’t agricultural country—no broad fields of grain waving above soft, cultivated soil, just waiting to cushion the fall of a merchant ship dropping out of the sky into enemy territory.

  Tal, standing behind K’kadi, studied the magnified view Romy Lassan sent to K’kadi’s comp station. “Will that do?” Tal asked, ignoring the bridge crew’s surprised looks as S’sorrokan deferred to the judgment of the weird kid from Psyclid.

  Yes.

  Shaye Lassan, responsibility for Pegasus weighing heavily on her shoulders, was unable to keep silent. “Captain, are you sure?”

  “Sure we’ll get down safely? No. Sure this is our only option? Yes.” Tal lowered his voice until only the First Officer, Kass, and K’kadi could hear him. “Engineering is a shambles. Dagg’s dousing a fire and doing search and rescue. We rely on Kass and K’kadi or fall out of the sky in under ninety minutes.”

  “Understood, Captain. Please proceed. Comm, send Pieter to inform Captain Lassan of our landing attempt.” With that, Shaye Lassan stepped back, leaving them to it.

  Tal turned an inquiring look on the Psyclid siblings. “So who’s in charge? When it gets dicey, someone has to make the tough calls.”

  K’kadi, can you handle the landing? Kass asked, because operating from nothing but a holomap . . . well, I haven’t a clue.

  Her brother tapped his head. Know where, know how.

  To K’kadi, Kass offered a whoosh of relief. Speaking aloud, she announced, “K’kadi’s in charge.”

  “Mr. Amund,” Tal said, without so much as a hint of a qualm at turning over control of Pegasus, “whenever you’re ready. Nav, call distances to landing site every thousand meters.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Helmsman, shut down all controls still operational on your board. “Mr. Amund, whenever you’re ready.”

  With no warning, K’kadi projected a simple, Now!

  Kass stifled a gasp as the mass of Pegasus engulfed her. But compared to Astarte, the merchant ship was a feather, particularly with K’kadi by her side, strong, confident, and focused. Bless the goddess. She’d prayed for the day he’d come into his own, and this seemed to be it.

  Thirty degrees down, eight right. K’kadi illustrated his order with a hand signal that Kass followed with ease. Vaguely, she heard the bridge crew’s gasps of wonder. Astarte’s leap to Choya Gate had been one massive effort that left her flat on her back for several days. But this—basically an enlasé between two of Psyclid’s most gifted—was almost easy. When the broad stretch of beach, with blue water glistening on the right, became visible on the forward viewport, Kass felt a euphoria similar to the night she’d transported Tal and herself to safety, a mere one-story leap that for the first time showed her just how powerful her gift was.

  Slower!

  Fizzet! Now who was
letting her mind wander. Kass snapped her attention back to the here and now.

  The faint hum beneath their feet died, the auxiliary engines succumbing to the domino effect of the explosion in the engine room.

  Kass noted the first sign of strain on K’kadi’s fairy prince face, as he withstood the extra weight and kept Pegasus on a steady descent toward the chosen landing site. Kass felt the added burden but only lightly. Baby brother was managing nicely all by himself.

  Slow. Slower . . . In utter silence within and only a whisper of displaced sand without, Pegasus glided onto the beach with no more than a slight bump.

  “Well done!” Tal declared over gasps of relief, murmurs of disbelief, and some highly colorful oaths.

  In an out-of-the-way corner of the crowded bridge, Alala stood motionless. During the entire descent, she had never taken her eyes off K’kadi, who appeared to be doing absolutely nothing, just sitting there, his eyes fixed on the holomap. He didn’t even look up when the beach and ocean filled the forward viewport. He simply seemed to know where they were going and exactly how to set Pegasus down. Yes, Kass helped, but she’d made it clear K’kadi was in charge.

  Astounding. K’kadi Amund, the Psyclid clown, had just saved their lives. Though infinitely grateful, Alala had doubts about the meaning of this revelation. He was still a boy. A very peculiar boy. A boy whose attentions had gone from smothering to coolly indifferent.

  He’d bear watching. But with a new respect.

  “Alala!” Kass’s voice snapped through her thoughts. “Please see that K’kadi has food and drink. He must hold the cloak until dark.”

  “Of course, Dama.” Grateful for any role beyond helpless observer, Alala jogged toward the exit, nearly bumping into Dagg Lassan in the doorway. A murmur of apology and she was off and running for the ship’s galley.