The Bastard Prince (Blue Moon Rising Book 3)

by Blair Bancroft

  “Confident bastards,” Tal muttered. “Or, as K’kadi says, we did more damage on Herc than we thought.”

  “Darroch’s a fool for not waiting until Fleet was back to full strength,” Kass added.

  “Kamal tells me he warned him about Psyclid,” Tal said. “Over and over. Darroch scoffed.”

  “The Regs are on a single heading, Captain. Straight for Crystal City.”

  Surprise. Faces around the room lightened momentarily as K’kadi aimed his sarcastic remark at the entire room. And yet . . . the Regs had to know about the ridó. The project was too huge, too many merchant ships moving in and out of Psyclid space for whispers of the vast project not to have spread. As well as rumors of an open pathway to ducking under the umbrella . . .

  “Beta Group,” Tal said, speaking into his comm unit, “don’t be fooled. Another Reg battlegroup could pop up any moment. Scorpio, take your ships to the gap now. Omni and the goddess go with you. Gaia, assume planned position. To his own attack group, Tal snapped, “Alpha Group, let’s go fight some Regs!” Astarte, with three royal children and Alala on the bridge, turned toward Psyclid’s capital, Crystal City. Tycho and Pegasus followed.

  Alala leaned close to K’kadi. What happens when they fire at the ridó?

  Ricochet. If the ridó works.

  “It might not work?” Horrified, Alala’s fingers closed around his arm. “There is doubt?”

  Not tested. No one has built a ridó in ninety years.

  “But everyone says this Killiri person is a genius at getting things done.”

  Good construction boss. Knows nothing about building a force field.

  Sometimes her husband could be maddening. No news there. Alala considered the problem for a moment then turned to Kass. “If we can see them on the hologlobe, then they can see us?”

  “K’kadi is keeping us cloaked. Jagan and his people will do what they can for Beta Group. Hopefully, enough to keep the element of surprise. But that many ships, when they begin to spread out along the gap and the firing starts? We can only hope the Regs don’t know the ridó’s unfinished, or see no point in wasting firepower on an empty ocean. That they’ll concentrate on Crystal City, and we can take them by surprise from above as we did on Hercula.”

  “K’kadi says that if the ridó works, there could be ricochets? Enough to damage their ships?”

  “Best case, yes. We’ll stay well back until we see what happens. If we’re lucky, the Regs will shoot themselves, saving us some ammunition.”

  Alala frowned and yet another question tumbled out. “Kass . . . does the captain not trust Kamal?”

  After a slight pause, Kass tossed off Alala’s concern with a breezy, “Tactics, Colonel. Gaia is our reserve, poised to head to Crystal City or the gap, as needed.

  “Tactics I understand,” the battlewise Herc officer declared. “This is something else. Perhaps the captain is sparing Gaia’s crew from firing on their own.”

  “Delaying,” Kass admitted. “Unless everything goes perfectly—which it never does—Gaia will be engaged in battle soon enough.”

  “And the hijacking? When does that start?”

  “When Tal says so.”

  A reply which effectively ended the discussion. Alala sucked in a breath and waited, dividing her time between watching the hologlobe and K’kadi, who was so focused on the rapidly closing black and white icons that she knew he had totally forgotten she was there.

  Twelve rebel ships defended the gap above Psyclid’s broad Azulian Sea, but everyone knew their most effective weapons were likely to be the unique skills of the Psyclids assigned to each ship. All veterans of the planet’s long battle for freedom, they were once again ready to put their paranormal talents on the line. The only missing veteran of Psyclid’s Freedom Day elite were the Princess M’lani and T’kal Killiri, the ridó construction boss, who was confined to the surface, keeping his eye on the creation no one was certain would work, including himself.

  The ships of Beta Group spread out along the gap, ranging themselves in a line from north to south, with Scorpio and Sirius planted firmly in the widest opening, three hundred kilometers on either side of the equator. Psyclid enlasé teams maintained invisibility cloaks for each ship. Waiting . . . waiting.

  From the far north to the southern pole, silence reigned. Hologlobes shimmered, showing nothing but friendly white icons. Here, far from Crystal City, all was quiet. Jagan dropped Scorpio’s cloak, changing his group’s focus from Hide to Search. Their minds soared out far beyond the range of the hologlobes. Still nothing. Jagan frowned, broke the enlasé bond. “Comm, inform Captain Rigel it’s possible the Regs don’t know about the gap.”

  Even as he said it, Jagan felt a sudden frisson of unease. Too easy, too easy. There was something . . .

  Fyddit!

  “Patch me through to Rigel,” he barked. A few moments later Jagan snapped into his comm unit, “We’re lined up over the gap like a fydding beacon! Here’s Scorpio in the middle of nowhere. A single cloak drops, so much as wavers, and it’s Here’s the hole, Empire, come and get us.”

  Tal’s response was enough to singe even Jagan’s hardened ears. When the profanity stopped, he ordered, “Beta Group, all ships. Keep sharp watch. If the Regs didn’t know about the gap before, it’s likely they do now. Reg reserves are likely headed your way. Gaia, head for the gap. I’m counting on the ridó here to hold—” A slight pause and then a terse, “It’s begun. They’re firing. Rigel out.”

  Chapter 36

  Above Crystal City, the coordinated barrage from the Reg battlegroup turned the black of space to a supernova. Everyone on Astarte’s bridge blinked in the blinding light before finally focusing in awe on the continuous, unrelenting flashes from ten top-of-the-line Reg fighting machines. Kass quailed. Blue Moon’s ridó had never been subjected to such a pounding, and no one knew if Psyclid’s brand new force field would work.

  The well-cloaked rebel battlegroup hovered above the action, watching, waiting, praying. Hard as it was to do nothing, they had to wait out the first wave of the attack. Had to know if the ridó would hold. Kass, appalled even as she accepted the tactic, stared, transfixed, out the bridge’s viewport. Would the ridó crumble in the first hour, allowing the capital city to be destroyed? The palace? Ryal and Jalaine? Oh, dear goddess, help them!

  The first battle casualty was an overeager Reg Tau-20. Cannons and lasers blazing, it dove toward the planet’s surface, evidently intent on gaining a better firing position. Instead, it bounced hard off the ridó, spinning off into space, barely missing Pegasus on the way by. Dagg Lassan’s triumphant profanity echoed over the comm system.

  Only minutes later, a frigate, dipping low, shuddered and lost way. “Ricochet,” Tal muttered. “It’s working, the blasted thing’s actually working. Alpha Group, all ships,” he ordered, “let them destroy themselves for a while. K’kadi, stand by. We need you more for hijacking than frying.”

  Far below, the two battlecruisers and three hunterships continued their futile broadsides. The ridó held. “Whatever Jagan says about Killiri,” Tal declared, the were gets a medal for this.”

  A battlecruiser and two of the hunterships shuddered, struck by flying debris from their own weapons. In a light display which reminded Kass of her cadet days when Tal first spotted her erratic trajectories, lasers bounced back toward their points of origin. “Perhaps,” she suggested softly to Tal, “you should let K’kadi grab one or two ships before they’re too badly damaged.”

  He flashed his best S’sorrokan grin. “Damage we can fix. Remember what I said on Herc? A little target practice keeps up morale.” He turned to K’kadi. “We’ll let the gunners and pilots play a bit, but start picking out the ones you want.”

  “Captain Rigel,” Comm reported, “Beta Group is under attack. Gaia still en route.”

  “Pegasus to the gap, flank speed.”

  “Aye, Captain.” Dagg Lassan’s swift response echoed in Tal’s ear.

  Just as swiftly, A
lek Rybolt sent a message via private captain’s comm. “You might want to rethink that, Tal. The minute we decloak and launch fighters, we’ve got trouble. That’s the Regulon Battle Fleet down there. They may have taken damage, but they know when to cut their losses and turn on something more vulnerable. Namely, us.”

  “You don’t think Astarte, Tycho, and a sorcerer can handle ten Reg ships? Frankly, I’d bet on us any day.” The dashing smile of Captain Kane, the pirate smuggler, was back as Tal added, “Mr. Amund, decloak.”

  K’kadi shot Tal a pleased-with-himself smirk and dropped the cloak that had kept Alpha Group invisible.

  “All ships, launch fighters,” Tal ordered. K’kadi’s smirk became a broad grin as he felt the joyful surge of the fighter pilots, pent up seemingly forever in the fighter bays. When they were away, Tal gave the order to descend to firing range, then used dushani, his special bond with Kass, knowing K’kadi would eavesdrop and pass his words along to B’aela. Hang on. Wait. Let Turco get the feel of battle command. We’re going to need a seasoned captain when we make our run on Regula. And I need to know Tycho’s crew won’t falter against their own. They did well on Herc, but . . .” Tal grimaced. Sorry, but that’s how I have to think. After all, I’ve just sent the emperor’s nephew to fight the Regs at the gap. Insanity runs rampant.

  Astarte bucked, as the ship took a hit not far from the bridge. A series of shudders followed, as the Reg warships abandoned the ridó to focus on the menace descending from above.

  Face grim, Tal ignored his doubts. Was he right, or was he risking his ships for a future that might never come? Battle-hardening crews that wouldn’t live long enough to attack Regula Prime?

  Chaos engulfed them. Cannons, torpedoes, lasers. Fire at will. Tau-20s—identical except for the insignias painted on their sides and the dragon’s teeth snarling from the noses of the rebel fighters—plunged and soared, twisted and rolled, each pilot eager to add his name to the millenias-long list of daring combat fliers.

  Astarte lurched, shuddered, lurched again, but steadied each time, giving Tal a clear view of the spectacle high above Crystal City. Omni only knew he was tempted to let it continue. The rebels were winning, and it felt good. But they were wasting resources, risking Reg ships they wanted to claim for their own.

  And besides, he was getting tired of Kass’s anxious glances.

  “Mr. Amund, on my signal, disable as many ships as you can, but don’t exhaust yourself. We need you at your best for the hijacking.”

  Understood. K’kadi, now grimly serious, concentrated on his hologlobe. The ridó had already won the battle for Crystal City. The Regs would soon realize that and turn their full force toward the gap. Therefore, this was the moment to add Reg ships to the rebel fleet.

  K’kadi focused . . . felt a huntership calling to him. Now . . . the time was now.

  On the far side of the planet, thirty minutes after Tal’s warning, the wait was over. Rebel hologlobes and comp screens from one end of the gap to the other suddenly looked as if they had caught a case of the Black Spot. Regs, Regs, and more Regs. Everything Fleet hadn’t sent to pound Crystal City into dust moved in on Psyclid’s line of least defense.

  “Fyddit!” Dorn Jorkan muttered under his breath before shooting a hot glance at the Sorcerer Prime. “All ships, give me a count on Reg ships and firepower.”

  “Sirius here.” Gregor Merkanov’s voice was firm and confident. He might as well have been carrying on a conversation over ripka at Revell’s taverna. “One huntership, one frigate, fifty klics out. Standard weaponry. Permission to launch fighters?”

  “Permission granted all ships to launch on their captain’s orders.” The remaining rebel ships responded, reporting the number of Reg ships targeting their position and their probable firepower. “Comm, notify Command.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Gaia,” came Rand Kamal’s voice. “On approach. Where are we needed, Captain?”

  “The equator, Admiral. Widest spot, easiest place for their Tau-15s to fly under the edge.” Alek snapped off his comm unit to keep anyone from hearing his groan of outrage. He was relying on the fydding Emperor’s nephew to protect the edges of the unfinished Psyclid force field? He must be out of his mind!

  From her position at Tactical, Zee-zee Foxx intoned, “Huntership, two frigates, a hundred klics out, on collision course.

  “All ships, central area, cloaks down, launch fighters.” To Jagan, Dorn added, “Mondragon, whenever the moment’s right . . .”

  “We’ve added some tricks,” Jagan assured him. “As much as I hate to admit to learning from my brother-in-law, the boy’s just full of interesting tricks. He stole my dragon. Why shouldn’t I borrow from him?”

  “Whatever you’ve got, looks like we’re going to need it. Shields up!” Dorn barked as the firepower of the three Reg ships came at them from a span of almost two hundred eighty degrees, the Reg fighters outnumbering the rebel fighters by more than two to one. Jagan’s dragon suddenly rose around them like some apparition out of the Ninth Hell of Obsidias. Scales of dark green, head as big as a palace, jagged white teeth in a mouth belching gray smoke and streaks of scarlet flame. Pok! It was far from the first time Dorn had seen the dragon, but the batani monster was way too real. If the Regs didn’t run, they were totally meshug.

  Scorpio shuddered as it was hit by yet another broadside and Reg Tau-20s swarmed them. “Mondragon?” Dorn could only hope he didn’t sound as anxious as he felt.

  “First time we’ve tried this,” Jagan hissed. “Hold on!”

  Hold on? What did the blasted sorcerer think they were doing? Obviously, the Regs had been warned about the dragon, which only looked as if it was about to burn Reg ships or swallow them whole . . . “Any time now,” Dorn ground out. “Sirius needs help.” Not to mention Scorpio and most of the other gap defenders. Pok, dimi, and fyd!

  One of the Reg frigates faltered, losing position, spiraling down and down until it plunged into ocean far below. Slowly, Jagan turned his gaze from the front viewscreen to encounter Dorn Jorkan’s raised eyebrows. “Couldn’t let the boy get the better of me,” the Sorcerer Prime said smoothly. “And besides, I don’t have his scruples.”

  “Can you do it again?”

  Jagan sighed. “That’s the trouble with magic. It takes a hell of lot of energy.” Once again he clasped hands with D’nim, T’mar, and the other gifted Psyclids aboard. Oblivious to the heavy fire Scorpio was taking from two Reg hunterships and their Tau-20s, they focused on the second frigate.

  Scorpio shuddered, her shields repelling so many hits she shimmered with light, her hull doing an erratic dance that threatened to turn fatal.

  “Shields to thirty percent.”

  “Got it!” Jagan shouted as the second frigate spiraled into the sea.

  Not enough.

  “Shields to twenty percent.”

  “Comm,” Dorn barked. “Status on Gaia?”

  Even as he said it, the brilliance of multiple explosions raked the nearest attacking Reg huntership. A full barrage, but from where?

  “Gaia, Captain,” Zee-zee said. “Sorry, sir, I missed her approach. Between the dragon and the fighters, I didn’t see her coming any more than the Regs did.” Since Dorn was planning to ask Zee-zee to marry him as soon as this mission was over, he decided criticism of his Tactical unit was not the best reaction of the moment.

  Although Gaia was only an armed merchant ship, her gunners were Reg trained, well worthy of their assignment to Andromeda. And her captain was Rand Kamal. The odds on the battle for the gap shifted to the rebels.

  Kass, B’aela, and Alala watched as K’kadi focused on a huntership icon on his hologlobe.

  “K’kadi, practice on something smaller!”

  K’kadi, scowling, brushed away the annoying buzz of Alala’s voice.

  “Don’t be greedy,” she hissed. “Start with a frigate.”

  No!

  Yes!

  “K’kadi . . . ?” Kass’s warning chimed through
his head.

  His Fyddit!—shouted as loudly as thought-speak allowed—shocked Alala and Kass. Even B’aela raised an eyebrow. Looking as truculent as the boychild they all hoped he’d left behind, K’kadi turned his attention to a Reg frigate, and with seemingly careless ease, shut it down.

  Alala gaped as the warship lost momentum, dead in space, its weapons silent. One moment it was firing everything it had, and now . . . K’kadi had done that? She’d heard about his unique feat in the skies above Hercula, but mostly in the context of strong criticism for his not using his dragon to burn the Regs from the sky as he’d done in his demonstration at court. But seeing it . . . ? He could possibly immobilize a warship?

  K’kadi didn’t stop. With what could have been described as “eager disdain,”—eager for the “kill,” disdainful of those who doubted him—he turned his attention to one of the hunterships. The ship went lifeless.

  “K’kadi,” Tal snapped, “you’ll exhaust yourself before the hijacking even begins.”

  K’kadi ignored him. Undistracted by a sky full of darting Tau-20s, K’kadi concentrated on one of the Reg battlecruisers. Kass opened her mouth to protest, then snapped it closed. There were no boundaries for K’kadi except those he chose to impose on himself. Let him try. If he could actually disable it . . .

  Once again, she was letting her imagination carry her away. K’kadi might be able to disable one of the Reg behemoths, but haul it back to Blue Moon . . . ?

  We landed Tycho when it was crashing. Disabled ship much easier.

  Blessed goddess, the boy could take out a battlecruiser and talk at the same time. “Tycho crashed. We only slowed it down.”

  We did not have B’aela. Or Alala.

  “What?” Alala’s shocked response was loud enough to turn heads at several stations around them.

  You have great strength. You will join us. The battlecruiser K’kadi had been targeting ceased firing, hanging dead in the sky like the frigate and the huntership.

  Kass gasped as a sudden thought occurred to her. “What about their fighters?”