Rebel Princess(21)

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?