Rebel Princess(46)

"You see, I'd been on Psyclid years ago-not long, but long enough to get  rid of a good deal of my Reg skepticism. And I'd been to Blue Moon. I  knew it had no strategic importance and was almost certain the invasion  had bypassed it. And I remembered the blue haze that obscured the  surface. If we could get there, undetected, the rebellion could hide  right under the occupation's nose."

"Arrogant perhaps, but clever," Kass approved. "But how did you manage it?"

"I know now I didn't." Tal sighed. "But at the time-and until just now-I  assumed it was simply Psyclid magic." He shrugged. "After all, Regulons  are raised on scary tales of Psyclid magic. Why shouldn't I accept any  magic that was obviously helping us?"

"But how did you get in?" Kass prodded.

"All was going well until Psyclid was in sight. We'd done all we could  to disguise Orion, and I could only hope the Reg occupation force wasn't  as sharp as the invasion force. That they'd accept us for a large  long-hauler or a smuggler and ignore us. But I was still new to the  game, not considering worst case, and I was wrong. Fate must have given  us the sharpest watch commander in the occupation that day, one out to  make a name for himself taking down a possible smuggler. He didn't just  send a frigate and fighters, he launched Procyon as well, a cruiser that  just happened to be in port.

"So there we were, totally outgunned, with no knowledge of your secret  back door. It was hide behind Blue Moon's haze or the rebellion was done  before it started. Procyon threw everything she had up our tail-laser  cannons, torpedoes, missiles. I shifted what little shield power we  still had to aft and kept on going, straight at Blue Moon. Our choices  weren't many. We were going to be blown out of the sky before we reached  that blue haze or-"

"Or the ridó would open, Orion zip through . . ."

"Except we didn't know about your blasted force field," Tal growled,  "until your fydding ridó slammed shut in the cruiser's face. It bounced  and spun into space. I heard she eventually limped back to Regula Prime,  more than a little dented."

"And you never questioned why Orion got through and the cruiser didn't?"

Tal lifted her on top of him with ease. Such a deceptively fragile  little thing. "Wrong," he told her, so close he was breathing into her  mouth. "For months, every time one of our ships went in or out, I  considered it a miracle. Or maybe there was no force field at all, and  we'd been saved by some kind of Psyclid magic that repelled only the  blasted cruiser. After all, Kass Kiolani had magic, and I accepted that  Blue Moon did too. I assure you, by then ‘weird' was looking good."

Kass kissed his eyes, his nose, back to his mouth. "No argument," she  murmured, "but it's not quite as magical as you think. The ridó is, yes,  a spell, a force field created by magic. It can only be set by someone  who has that particular gift, and can only be breached by someone with  that gift. But it's not an uncommon talent. There have to be two ridó  tuners aboard every one of our merchant ships-our merchant ships that  used to be," Kass corrected softly. "There is a control center where  watch is kept every moment of every day. Your ships go in and out only  if our people open the ridó. Each and every time. Just as Jagan opened  Cyros Zed. It doesn't work by itself."         

     



 

Tal tucked Kass's head into his shoulder and held tight. Here in his  arms was the biggest miracle of all. "You're saying," he returned  slowly, "that there's a manned control center somewhere on Blue Moon  staffed by Psyclids who perform mental gymnastics every time a ship goes  in or out?"

"Yes." Kass gave a wiggle of satisfaction that for a moment sent Tal's mind spiraling far from Blue Moon and its ridó.

Forcing himself back to his role as leader of the rebellion, he added,  "The rebellion owes its security to a bunch of Psyclid fre-ah-talents  who allow us to come and go?"

"Well . . . uh, yes, though I wouldn't put it exactly like that. I mean,  the enemy of my enemy and all that. The real hero is the person who  gave the command the first time, the one who let Orion in when its only  claim to sanctuary was Reg warships in hot pursuit. And that could have  been faked."

"I suppose the control center has its share of empaths," Tal mused,  thinking out loud. Sometimes it was hard to admit there were skills in  the world he'd never have. But even a mediocre empath could have picked  up his desperation that day. They'd known he was running. Known Orion  needed refuge.

Some skills you do not have, but . . . Kass feathered her fingers down his torso.

That's right. Make me feel better.

I had something else in mind for that. Kass ducked her head, kissing his  neck, his upper chest. She slid toward his toes, her lips trailing over  blond chest hair, his umbilical dent, his groin . . . But her goal  didn't need any help. By the time her lips arrived, he was hard and  quivering. Grabbing her hips, he settled her on top of him, helped her  move in the rhythm that would bring back the flame that consumed them.  The flying sparks that lit his room and singed his soul.

Tal's last coherent thought: Well, fyd! Mondragon wasn't the only one who could make magic.





Chapter 29


"Captain, do you have a moment?" Dorn Jorkan asked. "I have an addition to the damage report."

Tal shifted command to Mical Turco and led the way to the ready room.  What new disaster plagued them now? They were in the clear, only twelve  hours out. They'd had enough troubles for three trips, he really didn't  need more. Even for his best friend, Tal maintained his stoic captain's  face as they slid into seats at the conference table.

"Something strange popped up," Dorn said, "when we finished dealing with  the emergencies and took a closer look. We were surrounded by five  ships. We should have had damage three-sixty." Tal's First Officer shook  his head. "But an anomaly turned up, a major damage gap on the port  side. Astarte's showing not so much as a dent there, and no more than  residual interior damage from blasts elsewhere."

"Conclusion?"

"There's a Fleet ship with a severe targeting malfunction?" Jorkan suggested blandly.

"Or?" Tal frowned. "You're not suggesting our Psyclids interfered? Believe me, they were busy elsewhere."

"No, not Psyclid magic," Dorn agreed. "I checked our databanks for  idents on the battlegroup. The gap in question is large because it was  the section under fire from Tycho."

Tal snorted. "You're saying Tycho missed? Fleet's newest battlecruiser,  the Emperor's pride and joy? A shot or two I accept, but not across the  board."

"Told you it was an anomaly," Dorn murmured.

"There's something you're not saying." Tal attempted to penetrate his  friend's bland façade. "You're my First Officer, if you'll recall. Your  opinion, as well as your report, is a requirement of the job."

"I'm waiting for you to tell me."

Malfunctioning trajectories. Tal almost smiled. Long ago and far away,  and a very minor anomaly compared to failure of the massive firepower of  a Fleet battlecruiser. "Does Dane Razo still captain Tycho?" Tal asked.

"No. Latest intel says he retired six months ago. Alek Rybolt took command."

Omni! Alek, his roommate through three years at the Academy. Son of  another long-time Fleet family and someone so entrenched in Regulon  tradition that Tal had never dared approach him about joining the  rebellion. But Alek's gunners had not fired on Astarte. Or they'd  deliberately missed. Or they were firing training loads.

"Was Tycho simply unwilling to take us out?" Tal mused. "Or was she sending us a message?"

"Hard to tell, but you might want to find a way to check it out," Dorn drawled.

A battlecruiser for the rebellion. The thought was damn close to  orgasmic. Tal touched fists with his First Officer, who matched his  excited grin. They'd had some bad, really bad, moments, but they were  returning home triumphant.         

     



 

Kass stood at the open casement window in the Round Tower, gazing out at  the colorful gardens and lush green landscape of the palace grounds.  Today, for the very first time, Blue Moon's mist failed to enhance the  view with the unique wispy sheen she so enjoyed. Oh, the sun shone, the  air shimmered, casting rainbow tints that should have taken her breath  away. But in her heart, Kass saw more gray than blue, with hazy black  swirls sneaking out of shadows barely visible from the corner of her  eyes.

Tal was angry. Very angry. And it was all her fault.

How could he have thought . . . ?

Of course he'd thought she would move into his expansive suite in  Veranelle. She had lived with him openly on Astarte, so naturally . . .

Kass picked up a small figurine from an etagère next to the window,  sorely tempted to throw it through the open casement window onto the  terrace below. Jade. Twenty-third century. Chinese Empire. Priceless.