The battle raged. Amazing. The boy's illusions were like viewing a three-dimensional vid screen, only more immediate, more real. When the Regulon battlecruiser exploded, the chant turned to wild cheering. Well, pok! If nothing else, the boy was going to be worth his weight in gold as a morale-builder.
"Thank you, K'kadi." Tal offered his best cocky S'sorrokan grin. "Enough said," he called to the crowd. Let's go make a revolution!"
He slid off the table, heading for the nearest lift. By sheer determination he kept a jovial, confident smile on his face as the crowd parted around him. He responded to greetings and nods, keeping up the façade all the way back to his quarters, where, grim-faced, he slumped into the chair behind his desk and dropped his head into his hands.
He'd gone mad the night Dorn told him about the cadets' plans for Kass. So insane he'd pulled his father into the mess-and been amazed at how easily he'd been able to persuade the admiral to help the little Psyclid. The result? Unquestioned space in the Regulon Interplanetary Archives and a constant stream of credits to pay for it. There was a mystery there somewhere, but Tal had been too busy to take the time to figure it out. Kass was safe, and that had to be enough for the moment.
But one thing was clear-irony abounded, the list of anomalies long and sometimes astounding. Kass didn't know she owed her long years of protection from possible rape and experimentation more to Vander Rigel, admiral of the Fleet, than to Tal himself. Nor did she realize the threats against her had sparked ideas that led Tal to give up his privileged life and start a revolution. But he'd saved her, hadn't he? Twice. Given her a berth on his ship. Yet she greeted K'kadi Amund with far more enthusiasm than she'd ever shown her captain.
On Astarte, he was S'sorrokan, rebel leader fast becoming a legend. But to the Reg Fleet, S'sorrokan was little more than an annoying buzz, a rogue rebel whose nips at the Empire were quickly sealed over. So what in the nine hells of Obsidias did he think he was doing, leading a rebellion against an Empire that ruled twelve star systems and just kept growing, with no more than a batani burp over the loss of Captain Tal Rigel and his huntership Orion?
As for Kass, he'd set a dragon in her quarters to watch over her, moved his First Officer next door, and what had happened? K'kadi Amund managed to wangle his way just one thin wall away. And Tal Rigel, idiot that he was, had helped him do it.
K'kadi Amund is a teenager. He can't talk. To Kass, he's like . . . like a pet.
Great. Nothing like common sense to intrude on his moments of doubt.
Tal ran fingers through his hair, adding a strong tug to prove this was all real. He'd actually done it. He was S'sorrokan, heading out on another mission, this time with Kass on board. Kass, his secret weapon and secret . . . obsession? Was it lust? Love? Fyd! If his crew knew how mixed up he-
The warning for an imminent jump blared through the comm system. Tal gripped the chair arms, a smile of satisfaction spreading slowly over his rugged features. They were on the first leg of the long journey to Tatarus, which was situated in a lively neutral zone between the Empire and the Nyx. He was S'sorrokan, and with Kass at his side, the whole blasted universe was his.
Chapter 13
Twenty ships' days, two wormholes, an endless cycle of training sessions that devoured most of Kass's waking moments, and, finally, Astarte was only hours out from Tatarus. Zee-Zee assured Kass the name given to the M-class planet by the Regulons was more appropriate than Zylon, the name the natives used. Tatarus, a corruption of Tartarus, the deepest, darkest part of the Underworld on Old Earth, seemed to suit this planet where enemies mixed and the general rule seemed to be "Anything goes." Frankly, Kass could hardly wait. She needed a break in the unrelenting hours of work she'd set for herself since they left Blue Moon.
The only time she saw Tal Rigel was on the bridge. Tal Rigel, captain. Remote, ever professional. Seemingly unaware his Psyclid ensign was working two jobs, juggling her bridge duties with determined attempts to turn K'kadi into a useful asset. Her brother, in turn drifted around the ship, watching, absorbing the goddess only knew what, frequently forcing Kass to chase him down for his training sessions. She should ask the captain for a direct handheld link, but she didn't want to admit K'kadi's behavior was so erratic he forgot appointments.
At the moment Kass was lying on her bed, luxuriating in a rare few minutes of peace between four hours at Nav and her next attempt to channel K'kadi's talents into some sort of disciplined force. But working with her brother was like trying to train a roomful of wild panta kits, and she really wasn't looking forward to getting off her bed and trying again.
The door slid open and Zee-Zee breezed in. "Captain sent these." She tossed a large wrapped package onto Kass's feet. "Your outfit for Tatarus."
Clothing from Tal? Kass sat up, her puzzled frown fading as she recalled his promise to outfit her as a pirate. She looked up to find Zee-Zee regarding her with no little amusement.
"On Tat, the captain's known as an independent trader, another way of saying smuggler," her roommate offered. "Any female he takes with him has to look like a smuggler's woman."
"Takes with him?" Kass echoed blankly.
"Didn't anyone tell you? Astarte stands off in space while the captain goes in as captain of Gemma, a smuggling ship. When we're down on Tat, we break into couples and small groups, spreading out to all the tavernas, sporting arenas, markets . . . anywhere we might hear something useful. This time out, you're paired with the captain."
For twenty days Tal Rigel had left her to the strict tutelage of Dorn Jorkan and Mical Turco. He'd barely acknowledged her existence. And now she was to be paired with him on a jaunt into a city on the dark side of nowhere.
Men were very strange creatures, Kass decided, not for the first time. Regulon, Psyclid, and most likely the males of every other star system as well. She should be angry but, truth was, if Tal Rigel wanted to pair with a Kass dressed as a woman of the streets, it might be . . . interesting. In fact . . .
Taking one last look at the clothes Tal had chosen for her, Kass scrambled off the bed and moved briskly toward the door. K'kadi no longer seemed an insurmountable challenge.
When Tal had ordered several outfits created for Kass back on Blue Moon, he'd gotten the impression the seamstresses were reluctant, only following his instructions because he assured them the clothes were designed to make Kass blend in, keep her safe. Now, after seeing what her well-shaped body did to the smuggler's moll costume, he wasn't so confident he'd made the right choice. Kass Kiolani wasn't going to blend in anywhere. Face it, he could have chosen a rough-woven sack and she'd still stand out. As it was, black leather shorts worn over black knit leggings revealed every nicely rounded curve, down to where her calves disappeared into tall black leather boots. Fortunately, her leather jacket concealed a portion of the more than ample curves set off by a white, scoop-necked knit top. It also concealed the Steg-9 he'd insisted on adding to her ensemble. Gold earrings dangled from her earlobes, multiple gold bracelets surrounded each wrist. A gold chain gleamed tight around her neck. A successful smuggler's woman brought to life.
His woman.
They had a mission, and he fydding well needed to remember that.
Gemma's shuttle opened its door to a scramble of groundcars, their drivers eagerly offering rides into the city. Dusk was settling over the spaceport, but the array of dark waving hands and faces still offered a sharp contrast to the approaching night. Zylons were a tall, graceful people, with skin color that ranged from shades that suggested too much time in the sun to the bronze of the melora vine leaf and the color of the finest kafi. A proud race, and tough enough to keep order at this junction of shipping lanes for four civilizations-Regulon, Nyx, Pybbites, and Herculons. Zylons tended to dress in garments as colorful as their personalities, flowing robes in every known color, including color clashes that hurt the eyes of their more conservative sector neighbors.
Tal enjoyed the Zylons, admired their attitude toward life. There was an ancient saying that summed it up: Walk softly and carry a big stick. Zylons were fair-minded, but they relished a good fight.
A single nod, and he and Kass had a groundcar to themselves. Visions of that nightmare ride to Titan and the Archives came rolling back, unbidden. The night the seed of rebellion had sprung to life. The city ahead might be relatively small, its buildings short and squat, its lights dim compared to Titan, but it brought back raw emotions he'd been trying to shut out ever since. He'd feared for Kass that night, feared for himself, because the truth was settling in. He had crossed a line, and there was no going back. How could Captain Tal Rigel of the Regulon Fleet be at the forefront of an invasion of a peaceful world like Psyclid?