Must land as they can, wherever they can. If they are smart—and not stupid like the ones that shot M’lani, Jagan, Anton, and Joss—they will survive.
Kass shivered. She had taught him discipline—but Alala had made him a warrior. That was what he meant when he said he needed her strength. Alone, he could not slough off his father’s influence, but with Colonel Alala Kynthia Thanos at his side, he was unstoppable.
Comm spoke into Tal’s ear. “Captain, Admiral Kamal wishes to speak with you.”
“Rigel here.” K’kadi and his hijacking team were suddenly far away as Tal listened to Gaia’s captain. “You actually want to do that?” he asked. “Permission granted. Comm, order all ships to open audio to general hailing frequency.”
Kamal’s voice came through, loud and clear, just as it did to the Regulon fleet. A communication to all ships on both sides of a fight at the same time should not have been possible, but . . . Afterward, some said it was Jagan Mondragon’s magic; others attributed it to Omnovah or the goddess. However it was done, Rand Kamal’s voice boomed over all channels: “All Regulon ships, this is Admiral Rand Kamal. You are attacking the most peaceful planet in the Nebulon Sector. There is no sense to it. No glory. No honor. I beg you, cease and desist. Go home. Live to fight another day.”
“Omnovah bless him,” Tal whispered for the benefit of family alone. “The man’s mad. Or too honorable for his own good. If we lose, he’ll die with the rest of us.”
Chapter 37
The moment Kamal finished his plea for the Reg fleet to go home, K’kadi turned back to the hologlobe and took out a second huntership in what seemed like no more than the blink of an eye. Now the hard part, he said. Join. He stood, holding out his hands to his sisters, who positioned Alala between them. Good. K’kadi nodded. Begin with the frigate. They all caught the irony of K’kadi ordering them to start small.
The three Orlondamis and a Herc paused, adjusting to the surge of power through their circle before beginning the biggest challenge—sending the captured Reg ships to Blue Moon. Then, as one, they stared at the designated black blob on the hologlobe, sucked in a unison breath of determination. We can do this, K’kadi told them
Kass, with a vivid vision of Tycho plowing into the trees the night it crashed on Blue Moon, kept her lips firmly closed.
B’aela, with a vivid picture of gang rape by Reg soldiers sharply etched in her mind, was ready for vengeance. “Lead the way, little brother. We’re with you.”
From Alala: “My strength is yours. All I have.”
K’kadi took the lead as their minds reached out to the Reg frigate, gripped it . . . For nearly a full minute nothing happened. They grappled—tighter yet—willing it to move. Slowly, slowly they overcame the frigate’s inertia, her bow swinging toward Blue Moon.
Heading good, K’kadi said. Begin drag.
Alala gasped as the frigate moved forward.
Focus! K’kadi snapped. Increase speed. Push!
K’kadi was the only person on the bridge who didn’t look awestruck as the frigate sailed toward the home fleet waiting to catch her.
Buoyed by success, they turned to the huntership, but as they watched it follow the frigate on the path to Blue Moon, Kass felt her strength fading. Blowing out a breath, she said, “Better do the cruiser before we’re too exhausted to move so much as a limm. Though, blessed goddess, it’s going to be like moving a mountain.”
Not attached like mountain. Just ship in space.
“Stop wasting strength on conversation,” B’aela snapped. “Let’s do it!”
“Can anyone join?” Tal asked, abandoning his observation of the dwindling action beyond Astarte’s hull. If Alala could be helpful, why not S’sorrokan himself?
Kass and B’aela immediately dropped hands, letting him into the magic circle. A moment to readjust, for Tal to feel the shock of being gathered into something more than himself, and suddenly the Reg battlecruiser nosed into the proper position.
Now! K’kadi ordered. Kass called on the power she’d used to move Astarte at Choya Gate. B’aela swore. Alala, shutting out the implications of a Herc warrior participating in sorcery, fixed her mind on the strength of her long line of military ancestors. Tal reminded himself he was the descendant of a warriors, and a husband determined to support his wife, no matter how peculiar her gifts.
At first, the battlecruiser inched forward with the momentum of a lame turtle, but just as they were certain their enlasé couldn’t last another moment, the giant ship began to move, picking up speed, picking up speed . . . A final shove, and off she went on a trajectory headed straight to Blue Moon.
Before Tal snapped back to the role of rebel commander, he allowed himself a few sweet moments of indulging in the rush of his first psychic victory. “Any strength left for the other one?”
Kass and B’aela groaned. Alala scowled.
K’kadi snorted. Can do by myself.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kass ground out. “After the blasted battlecruiser, we’ll likely overdo it and send that huntership flying past Blue Moon, maybe all the way out of the Sector.”
Kass’s sarcasm came close to being the truth. Even exhausted as they were, the second huntership seemed as easy as the frigate. They sent it on its way in ten minutes flat.
“That’s a lot of angry crews you’ll have to deal with,” B’aela offered.
“We have reduced handling Reg crews to a science,” Tal returned. “No problem.”
Straightening into a stiff military stance, Tal turned to K’kadi. “Mr. Amund, thank you. This was your day to shine.”
“Captain, they’re leaving,” Tactical announced.
“Heading?” Tal and Mical snapped in unison.
“Uncertain,” Tac reported. “Looks like . . . yes! They’re turning away, heading home.”
Mical Turco got up from the captain’s chair, stepped to Tal’s side. “The kid really spooked them, Captain. And Kamal? Hell, I thought we’d be lucky if he took a shot at anything except us.”
For a fraction of a moment Tal’s face allowed his long-time friend a glimpse of his private reservations, but all he said was, “Unless Kamal follows the Fleet home, it looks like we’re stuck with him.”
Mical snorted. His whole life had changed the night he and Dorn helped Tal rescue the little Psyclid cadet and stash her in the Regulon Interplanetary Archives for four years. If he’d had any idea . . . Hell, no, he wouldn’t change a thing. Returning to his captain’s chair, Mical ordered, “Astarte, status report.”
“Shields eighty percent, recovering. Minimal damage.”
“All fighters on board. Three undergoing repair.”
At Tal’s nod, Mical continued the roll call of Alpha and Beta Groups. “Tycho?”
“Dented but ready to go.” Alek Rybolt sounded almost as bright and confident as the man they’d known before Jordana’s death. Tal’s lips twitched into a fleeting smile. Time to check on another old friend. “Scorpio, report.”
“All quiet, Captain. The Regs are leaving. Some reluctantly, some limping, but Kamal’s speech really took the life out of them. About as weird as some of K’kadi’s tricks.”
“Your ships?”
“Two down. Argos and Pallas. Partial crew recovery. Saved by the locals. Three more ships badly damaged but managed to land on Psyclid for repairs. Six fighters lost. The rest, dinged but intact. Lassan’s fuming. Pegasus got here just as it was all over.”
“Well done, Captain. Keep me apprised of rescue efforts. Scorpio, Sirius, Pegasus, Gaia, see the Regs out. All others, escort the damaged ships home, help keep our prizes penned up ’til we get there.”
“Aye, Captain, but save the ‘well done’ for Kamal. My face is still frozen on ‘surprised.’”
As is mine, Tal silently agreed. Rand Kamal remained an enigma. Was he the honorable man he appeared to be? Or was he playing both sides to put himself on the throne?
“See you moonside. Rigel out.” Turning to Tactical, Tal ordered, “Tel
l me when the Regs are far enough away that we can assume they’re not coming back.”
They waited seven long hours, tending to the wounded, cleaning up, relaxing into good food and a round of drinks. Rehashing every step of what was done, what should have been done. And when. Weariness of body and soul had begun to take its toll by the time Tal finally the ordered Mical Turco to set course for Blue Moon. Where a Reg battlecruiser, two hunterships, a frigate, and their crews had been nudged into spacedock, and interrogation and recruitment of their crews had begun.
Chapter 38
Four days later
Tal flopped into bed, pulling Kass close. “Did this really happen?” he whispered into her hair. “Or am I hallucinating in some Psy dreamworld Jagan conjured up to play games with my head?”
“Silly! Why would he . . . ? Oh.” For a moment she’d actually forgotten she and Jagan had grown up expecting to marry each other. “You’re teasing. You know perfectly well it’s all for real.”
“What about all those years you and I had nothing but dreams? That was real too, and tough to throw off when we had to face a reality so much harsher than our dreams.”
“True,” Kass agreed, “but there’s no doubt about the latest battle. We won. And in a bigger confrontation than Choya, Psyclid Freedom Day, or Hercula. Proving once again that firepower and mindpower together can work wonders. We not only drove the Regs off, we captured four of their warships, and forty-five percent of their crews have joined us. That’s about as good as it gets. I’m beginning to believe we’re actually going to do this.”
Tal flopped back against his pillow, staring at the ceiling. Hard to find the words for what he needed to say. After all, he’d been saying no, no, no, for so long. “Uh, Kass?”
“Umm?”
“It’s going to be a while before the push on Reg Prime—a year or two, maybe even three. The Hercs have to train their crews, become the formidable fighting force they once were. We have to reorganize our fleet, incorporate the new ships. And we need time to make sure the new recruits are rebels at heart and not just trying to stay out of confinement.”
“A big job,” Kass agreed.
“I was thinking . . . well, we also need time for M’lani to regain her strength. We’ll need the threat of her Gift of Destruction, even if—hopefully—she won’t have to use it.”
Kass was accustomed to Tal using her as a sounding board, a role she savored, but tonight he seemed to be rambling . . .
“Killiri needs to finish the ridó and have some well-deserved time constructing buildings for his business. And Dagg deserves time to make money again, as well.”
Tal was leading up to something, but what Kass couldn’t begin to imagine.
“Dorn and Zee-zee would like to find time to get married. Anton and L’rissa too.”
Talryn Joffre Rigel, what are you trying to say? Exasperated, Kass was close to swatting him.
Silence . . . followed by the moment Kass never expected. “You know that baby you always wanted . . . ?”
“Ta-al!”
He rolled on top of her, supporting his weight on the flat of his palms. “Well, what do you think?”
Tal froze as he felt the point of his dagger—supposedly safely lying on top of his dresser—at his throat, just quivering there, no hands, as he’d felt it once before, shortly after rescuing Kass from the Regulon Interplanetary Archives. “You. Are. The. Most. Impossible. Man. In the whole Sector! The galaxy!”
“But you love me anyway.” Grabbing the hilt of the dagger, he sent it flying across the room.
“I suppose,” Kass huffed, taking a moment to sulk before her amber eyes suddenly sparked with mischievous seduction and her voice turned sultry. “But since you’re in position, and I seem to have caught you in a weak moment . . .”
Tal grinned. Slowly, he lowered his lips to hers.
Having fought off, or frozen out, a long list of overeager males in her time, Alala was no stranger to the spike in men’s needs after battle. Adrenaline surge, she’d been told. But K’kadi—the one man she permitted to touch her—had returned from battle turned to stone. A better analogy perhaps—an automaton that walked and ate, responded when spoken to, but remained disconnected from the world around him.
Foolish to worry. She’d known how different he was from the moment they met. Time had shown her just how far he deviated from normal. Even from a normal Psyclid.
But they were married. He had no right to shut her out!
And why? She had helped, had she not? He’d even thanked her, all formal and solemn like the prince he was, before retreating into a world where she could not follow.
At the moment he was slumped at the far end of the sofa they were sharing in their sitting room at Veranelle, eyes closed, face expressionless, his mind soaring where? Certainly, not to her. Not to the wife to whom he owed allegiance. The woman who provided his ruthless streak in battle.
Perhaps that was it. K’kadi was still his father’s son. Brooding over his role in battle. Yet as far as she knew, he had decimated the Reg battlegroup without killing anyone. So what . . . ?
Talora! Of course. Now that the battle was over, he had time for regrets. Time to be sorry he had married for power, for politics, not love. Time to be sorry he’d chosen Alala, the Herc warrior, instead of Talora, the girl who had never thought him a monster.
“Captain Rigel says we will not fight for some time,” Alala said in a voice wiped clean of the steel of a Herculon warrior. “Would you like me to go home until the next time I am needed?”
No response.
“K’kadi, did you hear what I said?”
He blinked, the emptiness in his azure eyes gradually shifting away from wherever his mind had been. Sharpening, focusing on the room. On her.
You spoke?
Alala repeated her offer to return to Hercula.
A frown marred the classic perfection of K’kadi’s face. You wish to go home?
“I feel that you wish me to go home. So you can live your life as it was before we were married. I understand completely,” Alala added hastily as his frown turned to a scowl. “I will make sure the alliance holds, I will come back when needed. It is just that . . .” She faltered, her voice trailing into silence.
K’kadi winced, ran a hand through his shoulder-length white-blond hair. You do not want to live with a freak.
“No, no!” Alala cried. “I just want you to be happy, and Talora makes you happy. I . . . ? I am merely a—a hostage, if you will. And sometimes, perhaps, the warrior who gives you strength in battle.”
Not a sign of denial. Or compassion. She supposed she’d asked for it. But . . .
“K’kadi . . . I should like to be a real wife.”
You are not a real wife?
“Clearly not,” Alala retorted with the asperity that had previously deserted her.
Reality finally penetrated K’kadi’s bubble. I have been distant. You believe I think of Talora.
The merest whisper from Alala: “Yes.” K’kadi’s snort of disgust seemed to echo through the room as well as in her mind.
Spurred by desperation, K’kadi dredged up the longest speech of his life.
Of all Psyclids I am the most weird. I have always been strange, different—always will be. Ideas fill my head, take over my mind, erase the world. Even my wife. I am sorry. Very sorry. But you must understand it will always be this way. This is who and what I am. I go where no one can follow. I hope you can forgive.
“We have just won a great victory. I wanted to celebrate with you.”
Understood. But I couldn’t leave the battle behind. My mind was filled with ideas for the next one—the great one—how to use all Psyclid’s resources, how to use M’lani’s great gift without killing anyone. How best to use Jagan and enlasé . . .
“That’s what you were doing?” Alala teetered between relief and anger.
Everyone agrees I am strange, including me. I lose myself in ideas. Or just in pretty colors. I must an
alyze every moment of a battle, parse every piece of the puzzle, figure how we can do better next time. I forget I have a wife. Forget I am no longer alone. Worse yet, I know it will happen again. Shoulders slumping, K’kadi leaned against the back of the sofa and shut his eyes.
Alala sat very still, fixing on the one thing he had not said. Finally, she asked, “Do you plan to keep Talora as your mistress?”
What? K’kadi jerked upright. He stared.
“Talora. I thought you intended to keep both of us. Which is why I wished to return home.”
K’kadi’s look of disbelief gradually faded to solemn. Resignation to his shortcomings. I am my father’s son. How could you think anything else? He ran a hand through his hair. As I said, I am a fool who often does not see what is right in front of him. But really, Lal, do you think me stupid enough to keep a mistress when my wife carries a sword, a bow, and a quiver full of arrows?
A vow that sounded good. At the time he said it, he truly meant it.
Alala launched herself the length of the sofa, ready to smack him, but he caught her easily, laughing down at her as he pinned her to his lap. On second thought, maybe you’re not so formidable after all.
After a satisfactory few moments of wrestling, K’kadi kissed her, a long, slow, claiming kiss, which he broke only long enough to murmur, Tal is promising Kass a baby. Perhaps we should make one too.
When he heard no protest, the prince from Blue Moon scooped up his wife and headed for their bedroom.
Outside, soft winds licked at the chimes in the garden, night birds trilled, and the great bulk of Psyclid began to rise above the horizon. On Blue Moon all was well.
Until the final push on Regular Prime revealed who was friend, who was foe, and who would rule when the Emperor Darroch was removed from power.
~ * * * ~
About the Author:
Believing variety is the spice of life, Blair also writes Regency Gothics, Regency Historicals, and lighter Regencies in the Jane Austen tradition, as well as Romantic Suspense, Mystery, and Contemporary Romance.
The Bastard Prince (Blue Moon Rising Book 3) Page 30