When had the dazzle begun to fade? Was it cracked by teenage contrariness, the determination to rebel against anything her parents favored? Or had it happened earlier than that, during the few short weeks special envoy Admiral Vander Rigel came to court, bringing his family with him? And a twelve-year-old princess took one look at the admiral's golden-haired son, just graduated from the Regulon Space Academy, and knew her life was changed forever.
Not surprising, of course, that he didn't remember her. He'd been swarmed, simply swarmed by every Psyclid female at court, including matrons twice his age. Tal Rigel had no time for twelve-year-olds, royal or not.
And now, on a planet far from Psyclid, he was watching her. Even though she'd shut down her telepathic power to avoid any more taunting remarks from Jagan, Kass could still feel Tal's near-constant gaze. It didn't take special talents to know he was wondering about Jagan, about Jagan and herself, about Jagan and the rebellion. And, most of all, what she had meant by a "more-ah-unorthodox" dissolution of her betrothal. Had he figured it out?
Kass opened her mind just enough to take a peek and was instantly burned by one of those waves of passion-or was it anger-rolling off Captain Tal Rigel.
Pok! He'd figured it out.
"We're ready," Jagan announced. Five amorphous figures stood in front of her, robed and hooded, their luggage remarkably light. "We arrived anonymously, and we will leave the same way. That's one of the best things about this place. Nobody cares."
"We're fydding glad to get out of here," declared B'aela's strong but feminine voice from under one of the hoods. "Take us out of here, Captain."
My popularity with women doesn't seem to be doing too well today. Jagan's wry thought echoed clearly through Kass's mind. They exchanged rueful smiles.
Kass caught Tal's frown.
No doubt about it. Astarte was about to suffer the effects of an uneasy truce between the Psyclid Sorcerer Prime, the next Psyclid ParaPrime, and S'sorrokan, leader of the rebellion. As well as a mistress who could not possibly be pleased to find herself confined in close company with her lover's betrothed.And then there was K'kadi, illusionist, human scanner, and devoted brother, plus two warlocks, a witch, and a bodyguard from Hell Nine.
It was going to be a long, long journey home. Home to Blue Moon.
Chapter 23
S'sorrokan's ship, S'sorrokan's rules. No robes, no hoods, no magic unless requested. No sly looks, whispered conspiracies. Mingle. Smile, he'd told the Hell Nine Four. Remember whose side you're on.
Not that Tal hadn't housed them in adjacent rooms-there was no point in a divide and conquer that would only force them to fight back. Although he was giving them as much surveillance as a pack of wild dogs, they were allies.
At least until they proved they weren't.
Astarte was one day short of exiting the first of two wormholes that would take them back to Tatarus, where Jordana Tegge and her crew were supposedly waiting. But were they? Tal wondered. Had Scorpio tired of waiting and gone off to join the smuggling trade, certainly a more lucrative venture than joining the rebellion? He hoped not. In spite of Kass's reservations, Tal wanted that extra huntership. Fleet training left its mark. As much as he'd come to believe in psychic weapons, he understood lasers, cannons, missiles, and fighter planes much better.
Tal drummed his fingers on his desk. Life in jumpspace could be unutterably boring. Since leaving Blue Moon, the crew had seen every vid, enjoyed every holo scenario at least five times over. They'd practiced battle drills until they were all sick of the klaxon. Only a few diehard fitness buffs still visited the exercise rooms. And . . .
Tal heaved a sigh. So far no sign that Kass was doing more than teasing the dragon when she spoke of an unorthodox dissolution to her engagement. Mallick! How many times had his little Psyclid gotten him all hot and bothered and then just slipped away? Was she taunting him, daring him to practice droit de seigneur?
What would his crew say to that?
The problem was, they likely thought he was already sleeping with Kass. And if not, that he must be in a downward spiral toward limp-dick wimp. With loss of respect soon to follow. Fyd! Enough of that. Time to be grateful no fights had yet broken out on board Astarte, a small miracle in itself, as Tor and T'mar had been chasing every female Reg they encountered, and Kass's friend B'aela was cutting almost as wide a swath through the male officers and crew. Not to mention the avid eye D'nim, Mondragon's assistant, kept casting on the best-looking younger male crewmen. Tal could only assume that for the two fastidious Psyclids, the pickings on Folly had been very slim. As for Tor, the Hell Niner had probably never seen so many clean, well-groomed women in his life. Particularly females nicely displayed in a closed environment. Tal would consider himself lucky if one of them didn't shoot Mondragon's rough-edged bodyguard. Better yet, maybe one of them would.
As for the sorcerer, Tal had to give him credit. Mondragon had annihilated a few rude stares with one icy glance, but for the most part he had kept a low profile. Tal made a point of meeting with Mondragon every other day, for the Sorcerer Prime was a man one ignored only if you wished to invite trouble.
Yet, in spite of all his precautions, trouble seemed determined to find them. Zee-Zee Foxx had come to Tal only the day before with a tale of crewmen who talked of spacing the sorcerer. And if Mondragon picked that juicy bit out of the air, Tal didn't want to even contemplate what might happen.
As for Kass-his thoughts always came back to Kass-he was going to have to do something about that. And soon. Maybe once they were back in normal space and he didn't have to spend most of his time keeping the lid on a ship simmering with ancient fears, newly minted passions, and a strong urge for a fight, any fight . . .
Tal, groaning, ran a hand through his hair. If he could just turn everyone's thoughts toward home, toward Blue Moon's spectacular scenery, its balmy temperature, the warm welcomes waiting there, things would improve.
They had to.
Just before lunchtime the next day, Tal sat in his captain's seat on the bridge as alarms sounded and the main comm system blared, announcing Astarte's imminent return to normal space. Omni be praised. Only two wormholes to go, with a few days respite between each. Blue Moon, here we come.
A slight shudder-Astarte took jumpgates well-and they were out, suddenly encircled by familiar stars brilliant against the jet black of space. Tal reveled in it. Every time. Space was his home.
Mallik! There were voids in his view. Great hulking voids, not more than ten marks out. "Kass?"
"A heavy cruiser, two hunterships . . . fighters launching."
"Shields up. Battle stations. Amund and Mondragon to the bridge. " Tal tabbed on his hologlobe, a quick glance confirming the trap.
But Kass was ahead of him, her words clipped and urgent as she spoke into the comm link she'd conned engineering into creating between herself and K'kadi. "K'kadi? K'kadi, respond. Disappear Astarte. Now! K'kadi, did you hear me? Disappear Astarte now!"
"Three ships firing," Dorn Jorkan intoned. "Incoming on a one-forty-degree front, brace for impact."
Omni be praised! As Foxx at Comm relayed his order to the entire ship, Astarte's hologlobe icon winked out. A rasp of sucked-in breaths and soft huffs of relief punctuated the tense silence.
"Helmsman, thirty degrees right, sixty degrees down. Dive." Too late to avoid the first volley, but they fydding sure weren't going to be sitting at the mouth of the wormhole waiting for the next!
Along its full length, Astarte bucked and heaved as the missiles struck, before shuddering back into position, continuing its dive. Gasps and groans as the bridge crew were thrown hard against their harnesses. Anything not anchored went flying.
"Shields at sixty percent," Jorkan reported, his voice husky from loss of breath.
Tal shook his head to clear it. Definitely the worst blast he'd experienced since Orion's battles with the Nyx. Omni bless K'kadi Amund that Fleet could no longer see them. A second round like that one could have finished them off.
Tal checked his bridge crew. All seemed to be functioning . . . except Kass, who was struggling to sit upright at Tac. Pok! He'd always known she was too delicate to be a warrior. "Kiolani?"
"I'm all right, Captain. J-Just not much experience at taking a full broadside."
"How long can K'kadi hold?"
"I really don't-"
"Never mind, Kiolani, he's here." And closely followed by Mondragon. Tal would love to know how the two of them managed to travel during Astarte's involuntary dance through space. Perhaps they'd been in a lift, any damage contained to being thrown around in a small space.