An image of Liona Dann, Tal’s unfortunate choice of mistress, flitted across Kass’s mind before she banished it to the nether regions where that horrid snake of a woman belonged. She wasn’t worth thinking about.
“So tell me,” Kass repeated, her mouth pressed against her husband’s chest.
“Later,” Tal murmured. “After.”
“Tal!” But even Kass Kiolani—formerly L’ira, Psyclid Princess Royal—couldn’t argue with S’sorrokan, leader of the rebellion. More than an hour passed before Tal told her about the news vids from Psyclid. About the arrests ordered by the new hard-headed Governor General who had found the perfect retaliation against a planet where life was so highly valued, where risking damage or death to citizens held hostage was out of the question.
“What will Jagan do?” Kass murmured, her mouth close to Tal’s, their naked bodies still entwined.
“Rescue the hostages, I assume,” Tal returned, frowning, “but it will just happen again and again. A vicious cycle—for every rebel incident, more hostages.”
“Then how—”
“It would appear Psyclid truly needs a sorcerer,” Tal returned with no little sarcasm.
Kass groaned. Then gasped as a face appeared in the air above their bed. “K’kadi, you monster, how many times have I told you never to invade our bedroom!”
Tal read K’kadi’s face faster than his sister. “What’s the emergency, K’kadi?”
A miniature Reg battlecruiser appeared above them, closely followed by a huntership and two frigates. Brilliant streaks of laser fire erupted from the three smaller ships, all aimed at the battlecruiser.
Tal sat up abruptly, sucking in a harsh breath. “The cruiser’s coming here?” he demanded. K’kadi returned an eager nod, clearly pleased Tal understood so readily.
“The ridó!” Kass cried.
Tal’s hand-held rang. “I imagine they’ve already got it. After all, they let Orion in when there wasn’t even a rebellion yet. “Rigel,” he barked into his comm unit, quickly followed by, “K’kadi showed us. Let them in.”
“A battlecruiser, Tal?” Kass questioned. “It could be a ruse.”
“It’s Tycho. And they’re coming in hot. Ridó Command doesn’t think they’re going to be able to dock.”
“Are you saying they’re going to crash? On Blue Moon?” But Tal was already out of bed, pulling on his pants. “Where?” Kass demanded as she too scrambled into her clothes.
“Don’t know.” Tal kept his hand-held to his ear as they ran for his personal helo, only to find K’kadi standing by the helo’s open door, looking hopeful. He might be mute, slight of build, his face formed in the delicate mold of a fairy prince, but he’d never lacked courage. Or abounding curiosity. Tal offered an abrupt nod of assent, and in moments Kass and K’kadi occupied seats in the rear, while Tal sat beside the pilot. A crewman slid the door closed, and the helo was airborne.
Thirty minutes later, and some seventy kilometers from Veranelle, the helo hovered over a vast open expanse of undeveloped land, which Ridó Command informed them seemed the most likely crash site for the giant battlecruiser—which suggested Tycho had enough navigational control to avoid populated areas.
“That’s Alek,” Tal murmured into his comm unit on a channel where only Kass and K’kadi could hear him above the roar of the helo. “The best batani captain the Regs have.”
Kass winced. She had forgotten Tal and Alek Rybolt had known each other since childhood, their friendship even closer than the natural empathy of two starship captains.
Ridó Command had assembled a wide variety of emergency vehicles—four helos, fire-fighting equipment, with a dozen wheeled med vehicles approaching, even as the tiny fireball in the sky grew larger and larger, hurtling toward the surface of Blue Moon.
Frantic words from Command echoed from everyone’s comm devices. “Stay clear, stay clear! If they can’t control the crash, she’s going to blow a hole a mile wide!”
The hovering helos promptly retreated, the med vehicles skidded to a halt. The fire and foam trucks checked the clearance behind them, kept their motors running, and held firm beneath S’sorrokan’s helo.
“Command thinks they’ve lost control?” Kass breathed, her whole body clenching in horror.
“Not Alek,” Tal returned calmly. “He’ll make it.”
But when the fireball in the sky became a red hot ship hurtling out of the darkness, they could only pray.
Help!
The desperate plea reverberated through Kass’s head. What . . .?
Help! Ple-ease.
Slowly, Kass turned toward K’kadi, eyes wide. Oh no, not possible. And yet . . . K’kadi, did you just speak to me?
No speak.
Yes, you did.
Waste time. Help ship! Please!
Tears welled up in Kass’s eyes, her lips trembled. “I can’t, K’kadi, I can’t. Even if we had Jagan and all his people, this is too much. Tycho’s the largest ship in the fleet. It’s out of control, coming down hard, no matter what we do.”
Slow it. You, me.
“K’kadi, we can’t. Look at it—it’s nearly down. It fills the sky!”
Do now! He grabbed her hand. Do!
A moment later . . . “She’s flattening out!” Tal cried, his cool command façade cracking.
Kass didn’t even feel the pain of K’kadi’s grip as they concentrated on giving the giant battlecruiser the extra lift it needed to keep from plowing, nose first, into the ground. The crash, however, was beyond anything they anticipated. A long rending of metal versus earth as the bow of the starship plowed its way across the field. A thud that shook the ground a second time as the aft section followed. The helo rocked wildly in a one-two punch of displaced air. The skid was long and rough, with the emergency vehicles chasing after, every heart racing as it began to look more and more likely there just might be crewmen left alive to rescue.
If Tycho stopped before the tree line, Kass amended silently.
Which did not happen. Tycho’s bridge plowed straight into a wall of trees with trunks solid enough to finally bring the nose of the battlecruiser to a grinding halt about fifty feet into the forest. Emergency vehicles were forced to stand off until the debris settled, revealing the great length of a battlecruiser that would likely never fly again.
Nor was there any sign of life. Exhausted, Kass slumped in her seat, buried her face in her hands. They had failed.
Alive.
Really? Are you sure? Did we help?
K’kadi shrugged. Maybe. Most alive.
Kass’s spirits soared. The probable survival of Tycho’s crew was not the only miracle tonight. K’kadi had communicated through something other than illusions, even if only to a close member of the family, someone most likely to hear his thought-speak. If they hadn’t been belted so tightly, she would have hugged him. Instead, she held out her hand and felt an inner glow as K’kadi squeezed it tight.
Kass almost bit her tongue as the helo landed with more speed than finesse and Tal hit the ground running. Naturally, Kass thought. He couldn’t just give orders, he had to be in the thick of it. After unbuckling their seat belts, she and K’kadi sat in the helo’s open door and watched the rescue efforts.
“What about the bridge officers, K’kadi? Can you tell how things are with them?”
Not dead. Not good.
What could she expect after such a disastrous crash? She offered prayers to the goddess. These were Tal’s friends, Regs who had risked everything to join the rebellion. And in that moment Kass realized she was still true to her Psyclid upbringing in spite of being surrounded by so many Regs for the last five years. She would have prayed for the crew of an enemy ship as well. Wars were absurd, a horrid travesty of life, for both sides.
Stranger.
Kass frowned at her brother, unable to make sense of his single cryptic word.
Not Reg, K’kadi added. Girl.
“There’s a foreigner on board?” K’kadi nodded. How he gathe
red information for his mysterious pronouncements remained a mystery. Even Jagan had ceased to mock her little brother’s talents.
K’kadi pointed. A mechanical lift had been pulled up to the ship and raised to the level of the mid-ship entrance, which now—because the battlecruiser had plowed so deeply into the field—was only about six meters above the ground. After several minutes of seemingly futile effort, the great door rolled aside. Which might mean, Kass hoped, that it had been opened from the inside. That at least some of Tycho’s systems were still operational.
The helo’s pilot handed her a bi-scope, which she accepted eagerly, focusing on the lift platform just in time to see Tal step through the portal into Tycho’s dim interior. Dim, not dark. Incredibly, the cruiser’s emergency systems were functional.
“K’kadi, will she ever fly again?”
In the air just outside the helo door, a miniature Tycho took shape. Shiny and perfect. K’kadi even added a few fireworks to emphasize that the occasion was joyous.
“But how?” Kass murmured.
The illusion separated into massive chunks, fifty or more. A merchant ship appeared, swallowed a piece and sailed off toward Blue Moon’s spaceport. “Great goddess, they can do that?” Kass asked.
K’kadi, offering an eager smile, nodded.
It was dawn before they saw her—the girl who was among the many who were able to walk off the ship on their own. She stood as tall and proud as if she were on parade, a fall of shining black hair tumbling out from beneath a helmet that looked as if it had been modeled after something worn by the legendary Spartan warriors of ancient Greece. She was also wearing an armored breast plate and a short purple kilt over black leggings. Astonished, Kass asked, “Is she actually carrying a bow and arrows?”
K’kadi nodded, adding, Sword.
A female warrior, armed with a bow and arrow and a sword. “She’s Herculon,” Kass exclaimed. “What in the name of the goddess is she doing on a Reg battlecruiser?”
But, eyes fixed on the statuesque Herculon, K’kadi wasn’t listening.
Chapter 18
Psyclid
Five long days after M’lani’s message was sent to Blue Moon, she lay on a sofa in the royal apartments, her feet stretched over the silk brocade in a most un-princess-like posture. The fierce scowl on her face inspired her mother to remark, “I hope it is not thoughts of marriage that prompt that look.”
“Must I be the eager bride?” M’lani grumbled.
The queen’s green eyes widened. “Oh, my dear, surely it cannot be that bad.”
“L’ira was radiant, was she not?” M’lani offered. “Just as a bride should be. Even dressed in black, and pants at that.”
Delicately, Jalaine pushed her daughter’s slippered feet to the back of the sofa and sat down. “M’lani,” she said after a short pause, “you do realize you have no choice. This marriage must take place.”
“No wiggling out of it, as L’ira did?” M’lani inquired hopefully. “No other daughters stashed away somewhere, as K’kadi has been all these years?”
Jalaine touched long delicate fingers to her forehead, hiding her expression. “Not as far as I know. And Jagan will never stand back and allow you to marry another, as he did with your sister. He was raised with great expectations and has the power to make sure he succeeds.”
“So my so-called ‘sacrifice’ was meaningless, our marriage mandatory.”
“Oh, my dear, I am so sorry,” Jalaine said, “but “Jagan is too powerful to be left on his own. Surely you realize that.”
“As am I,” M’lani whispered. “Though when I volunteered to take L’ira’s place, I had no idea . . .”
“As I said,” Jalaine returned in a tone now more queen than mother, “you are well-matched. A balanced pair. The only possible watchdogs for each other.”
M’lani grimaced. “How delightful.”
Jalaine laid a hand over her daughter’s—M’lani felt the strength of generations of strong women flow through her. “Give it time, child. The aura of your future shines bright.”
M’lani offered her mother a rueful smile. “Actually,” she admitted, “Jagan is not why I was looking so sour. We have not heard from Blue Moon about the hostages.”
“Not heard?” Ryal repeated as he entered the spacious living area from his study. “Do you think your message did not get through?”
“There’s no way to tell, and I hesitate to risk a repeat. We keep communications to a minimum.”
“Surely they don’t need time to debate about it,” Jalaine declared with a huff.
“Indeed we didn’t,” said her eldest daughter from just inside the hidden servants’ entrance on the far wall.
“The message was somewhat terse,” Tal Rigel added, “so we thought it best to discuss the logistics in person.”
The royal family gaped while Tal and Kass grinned. “But how did you manage it,” M’lani choked out, “without Jagan to make you invisible?”
Me, said a voice in her head. And a slim young man with hair glinting silver in the light of Crystalia’s chandeliers stepped forward, standing shoulder to shoulder with his sister and brother-in-law.
Time stood still as Ryal stared at the son he had not seen in six years. “K’kadi?”
Yes.
“You can talk?” Tears welled in both pairs of matching azure eyes.
Little.
“I hear him too,” Jalaine whispered. “Goddess be praised.”
“We thought you’d be pleased,” Kass said with a suddenly watery grin.
“We also came because there’s much to discuss,” Tal interjected into the emotion-filled family moment, as always, fixed on long-term goals. But first, sir . . .” He turned to King Ryal. “Would you be good enough to summon Mondragon. He should be present for this conversation.”
While they waited, the reunited family enjoyed late-night snacks, washed down by lunelle, and caught up on personal news, with K’kadi occasionally joining in with his new-found talent for language. For the most part, however, he fell back on illusion-speak, creating clear images of M’lani and Jagan in an elaborate setting that could only be a wedding, when suddenly M’lani asked, “I just thought . . . who’s keeping the shuttle invisible while K’kadi’s here with us?”
Me. K’kadi’s azure eyes danced with delight.
“His powers increase exponentially,” Kass told them. “He constantly amazes us.”
A rap on the door and instantly the visitors disappeared, leaving only Ryal, Jalaine, and M’lani seemingly alone in the room.
“His Excellency, Ambassador Vivar del Cid,” the herald announced and bowed himself out, closing the door behind him.
The moment the herald left, Jagan lifted their disguises, returning to his sorcerer self, his Archeron guards to Reg marines. He paused just inside the room, his skin prickling, heightened tension shimmering through him like static electricity. Something extraordinary was happening here. Yet non-threatening.
Expectant looks. Ah—he was being tested. Very well . . . His senses stretched out . . . and quickly encountered invisibility cloaks. Five of them. Which he could break if he chose, but it was more fun to guess. It was highly unlikely anyone other than a member of the family would intrude on the royal apartments. Therefore . . . L’ira. Rigel who wouldn’t let her come alone. And . . . K’kadi? Who else, besides himself, could manage such a solid cloak around five separate individuals? The two with their backs to the servants’ door were undoubtedly bodyguards.
Jagan’s calculations had taken only seconds. With only the slightest qualm he might be wrong, he said, “L’ira, Rigel, K’kadi, and guards, you may come out now.”
“Not bad,” Tal Rigel drawled as they all popped into view.
Good, said a voice in Jagan’s head. He turned instantly to K’kadi, never doubting the source. The boy was a phenomenon—and still growing. Tonight, while the Sorcerer Prime was indulging in parlor tricks, guessing the names of invisible guests, the young royal bastard was
demonstrating a miracle. The mute could speak.
Jagan felt general astonishment from the others as he swept K’kadi out of his seat and hugged him tight. Well done, well done! K’kadi’s smile—more adult, more knowing than Jagan had seen from him before—suggested the fey princeling was growing up at last. Including being able to communicate with gifted sorcerers outside the bounds of the family.
“There are about a thousand things to discuss and very little time,” S’sorrokan announced, “so we’d better get to it.” Jagan, well aware he had not been summoned to socialize with his former rival for the Princess L’ira, settled into a seat and gave Tal Rigel his full attention.
“First of all,” Tal said, “we’re already building extra housing. “We’ve had an unexpected windfall—though not without casualties.”
A batani battlecruiser, Jagan mused as Rigel told the tale. Even if they had to take it apart piece by piece and rebuild it, Tycho was a miracle. Immense firepower that might be ready for action by the time Psyclid made its final push for freedom.
If Ryal didn’t choke them with this fydding pacifism.
But that was a problem for a day far in the future. “So you can take our hostages?” Jagan asked.
“Of course,” Kass said, “but tell us about it. Who was taken hostage and why?”
“And how do you plan to rescue them?” Tal added.
When Jagan, with inserts from M’lani, had explained what happened and outlined their plans for the rescue, S’sorrokan, wearing his expressionless military face, eyed the Sorcerer Prime with considerable doubt. “Hostage rescue is an old-fashioned, on-the-ground military operation, Mondragon. Do you have any idea how dangerous it is, or even what to do in a firefight?”
“And what do you know about hand-to-hand, flyboy?” Jagan jeered, only to be shaken by the shocked reactions of every psychically gifted person in the room. Jagan gulped a breath and grumbled, “This is Psyclid, Rigel. We don’t intend to let the rescue deteriorate into violence.”
Sorcerer's Bride (Blue Moon Rising Book 2) Page 14
