Liona Dann appreciated the velvet of her prison, the luxury brought by her betrayal of Torvik Vaden, leader of the rebellion’s civil government—the man who had air dreams of seizing the Emperor’s throne for himself. Had she done it because K’kadi terrified her? Or because of that old soft spot for Tal? Probably both.
Omnovah be praised that Vaden was not among the favored few living in relative ease in this most comfortable of prisons. What she could have seen in that old man . . .
Power. He’d had the ability to hurt Tal Bloody Rigel, who had turned his back on her for a black-haired, amber-eyed cadet. A Psyclid cadet. When everyone knew just how weird Psys were.
Liona paced her well-appointed bedroom from wall to window, window to wall. She paused, examining herself in yet another of the velvet prison’s luxuries, a full-length mirror. She was taller than the scrawny little princess by a full head. In an arm wrestling contest, she would have had Kass Kiolani down in five seconds flat. Her blonde hair and blue eyes gleamed far brighter than the dark little Psy. The arrogance of her features was just as strong.
So why . . . ?
The krall had come so close . . .
She might have bought her comfort by telling Tal what he wanted to know, but she’d never forgive him for choosing the black-haired Psy princess over her. Never!
A tap on the door penetrated her seething thoughts. Liona stepped forward and opened the door.
“Dr. Dann,” the guard said, “you are wanted in the warden’s office.”
Such summons were rare, but Liona knew better than to ask questions. Nothing was worth risking the comfortable imprisonment Tal had promised her. But she was not prepared for what she found when the guard motioned her into the warden’s office and shut the door behind her.
“Liona.” Tal Rigel waved a hand toward the chair in front of the warden’s desk—which he had taken over as his own. They were alone.
She sat quickly, before her legs buckled where she stood. She had not seen him since she’d been exiled from Blue Moon.
“Have you been treated well?” Tal asked. “You’re looking . . . good,” he added more softly.
“Yes,” Liona managed. “I’ve even been allowed to do some research. Which has kept me from going mad. So, thank you.”
Tal nodded. “And Vaden? Anything new?”
Of course that was why he was here. After so many years shut up in this place without a sign of him, how could she possibly think this was a social visit? And his being here now likely meant the Big Moment was close.
At last.
If the rebels won, she would be going home.
She wanted to hate Tal, as she did the little Psy princess, but somehow she couldn’t. What was, was. The heart went where it was driven to go. And not everyone was destined to live Happily Ever After.
“Liona . . . ?” Tal prompted.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, gathering her wandering thoughts, summoning the woman who had once been Commander Liona Dann, Psych Officer of the huntership Orion.
“As I’ve mentioned in my reports, your plan worked. Vaden continues to believe I am allowed to visit him because I wish it and you have a soft spot for me from the days when . . . we were close. He believes I still share his goals, though how he can delude himself into thinking he could ever . . .” Liona broke off, shaking her head. “No matter. He is still very much your enemy. He boasts of a spy network that extends into the Reg prison barracks.”
“Ever the realist, Tal murmured. “Having failed to mount his own rebellion, he’ll happily rejoin the Empire.”
“Until he has an opportunity to stab Darroch in the back.”
“Which is going to be a challenge from max security on Psyclid. No fears, Liona. You’ll be going home, as promised. I’ve come to give you my personal thanks for the insights you’ve provided—”
Her blue eyes sparked. “The invasion is close?”
“Hopefully,” Tal returned with a soft smile that bridged the gap between what they once were and the painful reality of now.
“There are still a few of Vaden’s people on Blue Moon,” she told him, clearly anxious. “I don’t think you’ll be able to keep the date a secret.”
“With luck,” Tal said, “the how of it will remain a mystery.” He stood, his stance suddenly militarily formal. Liona sprang to her feet, snapped to attention. “Commander Dann, my thanks. For all our sakes, I hope the next time we meet will be on Reg Prime.”
“Captain.” Though neither was in uniform, Liona saluted smartly. Tal returned the gesture. She turned, ordered her legs to move, and walked out of Tal Rigel’s life, this time forever.
The next time she saw him, would he be sitting on the Emperor’s throne?
Chapter 25
Blue Moon
Although no date for Departure Day, short-named D-day, had been announced, rumors were rampant. Tensions mounted hourly. One of the stories that drifted back to Kass alleged that a ridó officer enjoying a convivial evening at Revell’s had declared that if tensions rose any higher, they were going to have to raise the height of the ridó. Kass, who had been feeling rather grim lately, actually laughed. And repeated the joke to Tal, who managed a rictus of a smile in return.
It was a time of contemplation. Of memories, good and bad. A time for hope? Ruthlessly, Kass brushed all thought of the future aside. There was only now—the final days leading up to the attack. Yet a chaotic kaleidoscope of the past insisted on interrupting her attempts at rational thought.
So many years since the Princess Royal, L’ira Faelle Maedan Orlondami, had decided someone on Psyclid needed to look outward, explore the quadrant. Learn to fight.
So many years since Captain Tal Rigel of the huntership Orion had watched a female cadet manipulate weapons trajectories, and begun to ask questions.
So many years since Tal Rigel, Dorn Jorkan, and Mical Turco had rescued the strange little Psyclid from rape and possible torture, sheltering her—with the aid of Admiral of the Fleet Vander Rigel— for four years in the Regulon Interplanetary Archives.
So many years since Tal Rigel, scion of a powerful Regulon family, turned his back on everything he knew and began a rebellion against the Regulon Empire.
And now the final battle was almost upon them. Smiles were scarce, laughter forced. The voices at Revell’s rose louder, more shrill, the partying heartier—some might call it defiant. They were actually going to do what they had talked about, dreamed of for so long. They were going to take down Darroch and his high command. Or die trying.
The faces around Tal’s conference table were sober, thoughtful, occasionally scowling. If Jagan Mondragon had any cynical quips, he kept them to himself. K’kadi was silent to the point of morose, his angelic features oddly reflecting the expression of the customarily somber T’kal Killiri. B’aela, Kass, and M’lani kept their unrevealing royal faces in place. No situation was going to frighten the daughters of King Ryal. Tal, Rand, and the other captains? They knew their roles. They knew the right stance, the right look, and assumed it with the ease of long practice. Kelan, Dayna, and Yuliya could only watch and marvel, honored to be allowed to attend such a strategic session.
This meeting, the third since the captains had reported on their journeys to the Reg-controlled star systems, was on break, voices rising as everyone argued the details of the plans they had been discussing.
Tal stood. The babble stopped in mid-syllable. They all sensed this was it—the moment they had been waiting for.
“As you know,” Tal began, “we have not yet conquered communication over the vastness of space. Therefore it was necessary to set a date for the invasion while I was on Hercula. If there was a delay, I was to send a frigate to the nearest comm beacon ten days ago. I did not.”
A murmur of sound swept the table. Relief. Joy. Excitement. Fyddit, it was true. This was it.
“Which means,” Tal continued, “we are committed. The Hercs have promised to be there, and we have to trust they will be. As planned, they
will draw Reg fire, while we come in cloaked through the backdoor—the wormhole that’s not on their charts. The details of that we’ve discussed ad nauseum. But not the date.”
Tal paused, a tiny smile playing over his face as he took in the eager expressions before him. “The date does not leave this room. I plan to keep it secret even past the moment we leave spacedock—supposedly on just another Rigel test run.” A glance around the table showed nodding heads, solemn faces acknowledging the need for absolute secrecy.
At last the words they had waited so long to hear: “We will move out at zero eight hundred seven days from now. The fifth day of Red Moon’s cycle, which should bring us over Reg Prime on the anniversary of Psyclid Freedom Day.”
Dorn Jorkan’s hand slapped down on the tabletop. “I won! That’s my date.”
Groans and laughter rippled around the room. Betting on the date of the invasion had been heavy. K’kadi had been bombarded with requests for information, but if he had knowledge of the fateful decision on Hercula, he had never given so much as a hint of it.
“Civilians, you know your ship assignments. Captains, go back to your ships, re-check everything,” Tal ordered. “And offer prayers to whichever gods are yours.” With a wave of his hand, he brought the meeting to a close.
“Seven days to say good-bye,” B’aela murmured as she and T’kal exited the room. “Blessed Goddess, now that the moment is here, I am not sure I’m ready.”
“You, at least, have been in a space battle,” her husband growled. “I have always been on the ground.”
B’aela flashed a sympathetic grin. “You have only to hang on while others fight the battle in space, and then you’ll be on the ground, doing what you do best.”
“The wolf does not like it. He would prefer to be in the throne room, tearing out Darroch’s throat.”
B’aela patted his cheek. “If all else fails . . .”
They went straight to Blue Moon’s shuttle port. A half hour later they were on their way back to Killirin, where they were met by two anxious children, and two who scampered toward them on four clawed feet, climbing up to wrap themselves, one around each neck, where they purred contentedly.
Kelan, Dayna, Yuliya, and Erik wound their way through Revell’s in search of a table. Rand Kamal had questioned his son’s inclusion in the party but had been forced to admit that life for a young teen in his elegant step-mother’s home could be quiet to the point of stultifying. (Erik had, in fact, declared more than once since their voyage on Astarte that if it weren’t for K’kadi, he thought he’d go mad!) And since Rand could scarcely question Kelan Rigel’s competence to handle just about anything that came his way, here they were—two Rigels and two Kamals, settling into a half-circle booth in a back corner of the bustling tavern.
While they waited for their drinks and food to arrive, Dayna was struck by the irony of the motley collections of patrons in Blue Moon’s most popular tavern: citizens of Blue Moon, officers and crew members off a dozen spaceships, visiting Psyclids. And four Reg exiles who grew up in the rarified atmosphere of the very top of Regulon society.
And through all those years—except for the supposed death of her older brother—she had remained relatively untouched by the rebellion. Until her father had asked her to accompany Kelan on the search for Yuliya and Erik, and she’d leaped at the chance to prove that she too was a Rigel.
Then again, sometimes Dayna envied Yuliya’s ability to live in the moment. To never seem to worry about what happened next. But Yuliya still lived with her father. Dayna had only fond memories of hers. And worry rapidly escalating to dread. Would she ever see him again? Or by staying behind to direct the Reg underground, had retired Fleet Admiral Vander Rigel sacrificed himself for the rebel cause?
Fortunately, before Dayna found herself wallowing in grief in a roomful of people determined on having a good time, their drinks arrived, along with a platter of tempting snacks. She smiled at Erik’s enthusiasm as he reached for finger food unidentifiable beneath a crusty, deep-fried coat. How many thousands of years had it been true that people most enjoyed the foods that were the least good for their health?
A sudden hush—the kind that happens when the person entering a room is significant enough to draw everyone’s attention. Dayna swallowed a gasp. In all the times she’d come to Revell’s, she had never seen him here before.
Heads ducked, voices resumed at a higher level, their owners anxious not to be caught staring as Captain Alek Rybolt wound his way across the room, returning nods and greetings from nearly every table. He was, after all, Tal Rigel’s second-in-command. And the captain who had brought the rebellion its first battlecruiser.
“He’s coming this way,” Erik hissed a moment later.
Dayna’s lunelle went down the wrong way, resulting in a fit of coughing just as Alek, towering over them, asked, “May I join you?”
Everyone obligingly moved over, making room on the end of the curved bench seat. Dayna’s end. Still coughing, eyes watering, she kept her eyes down as a wave of embarrassment swept from her toes to her head, turning her face scarlet.
A strong hand obligingly patted her on the back. The hand of the man who had not fired on Astarte at Choya Gate. The man who had nearly died when he crashed Tycho onto Blue Moon. The man who hadn’t looked at another woman since Jordana Tegge died. (Dayna knew because she’d gotten up the courage to ask Anneli.)
The man she’d adored since the night she’d first seen him at a ball at Kraslenka, when she and Yuliya were so young they’d been peeking through the gallery railing.
“T-thank you,” she managed. Head still down, she fished a tissue out her purse and wiped her eyes. Unfortunately, it was also necessary to blow her nose. Could the situation get any worse?
“May I order you a different drink?” Alek inquired, not quite hiding his amusement.
Fury helped her recover. “I am fond of lunelle, Captain,” she returned with immense dignity. “I merely swallowed the wrong way.”
“Then may I order you another? That one seems to have spilled.” Deftly, he shook out the napkin the server had just brought him and caught the blue liquid before it dripped off the table onto Dayna’s white tunic.
Worse.
She was going to sit here all night, with her head hanging low. She could not possibly meet his gaze, eye to eye.
Dayna flicked a glance at the others and discovered they were very carefully not looking in her direction. Except Erik, whose eyes gleamed as he stared at Captain Rybolt, who had become one of his heroes since he heard the dramatic story of Tycho’s crash. Perhaps not the best hero for the great-nephew of Emperor Darroch.
Dayna scowled at him, and Erik promptly turned his attention to his plate of food.
Alek leaned in and whispered in her ear: “Shall I leave?”
She gulped and shook her head.
A fresh glass of lunelle appeared. Nothing but the fastest service for Tycho’s captain. Alek put the glass in her hand., raised his own. Speaking softly, just for the two of them, he said, “To renewed acquaintance. And better times.”
Dayna wiped away a last insistent tear, lifted her head, and managed a lopsided smile. Touching her glass to his, she returned, “To better times, Captain. And a new world.”
A new world. He could drink to that. If there was one thing Alek could be certain of even before he made the decision that had brought him here tonight, one did not play games with Tal Rigel’s sister. It had taken a long time to drag himself out of the doldrums, and he’d needed spies to get him to the right place at the right time. And then, just as he’d finally made the effort, Dayna’s reaction had blown his plans into as many pieces as Tycho after the crash. For a minute there, things looked hopeless. He was just another thirty-something panting after a female a decade younger. But a new world? That held promise. Definitely better than Get lost, old man.
So . . . time to let his chips ride, see what happened.
To Alek’s relief, his luck shifted, the e
vening settling into what he had envisioned. Dayna danced with him twice, the second time a lot closer than the first. Late in the evening, she actually unbent enough to call him Alek. Only once, but he couldn’t expect to have everything in one great lump.
And when it was time to leave, he had a handle on that as well, casually suggesting Kelan escort Yuliya and Erik home in the limm; he would be happy to walk back to Veranelle with Dayna.
A plan agreed to with no more than a couple of knowing looks from Kelan and Yuliya.
“An excellent tactical maneuver,” Captain, Dayna said as they watched the limm disappear down the street.
“I thought so,” he returned, offering his arm. “It’s much too nice a night to be stuck inside a limm. And, Dayna . . . I thought we agreed you’d call me Alek.”
Her lips twitched in one of those secret feminine smiles that had taunted men down through the ages, but she stepped closer, slipped her hand through the crook of his arm . . .
Significant words left unspoken reverberated around them.
A new beginning in the new world just peeking over the horizon?
Or was seven days all they had?
Chapter 26
D-Day minus one
Kass lay on her side in bed, eyes fixed on her husband, who had been sitting in the same position for the last twenty minutes, seemingly fascinated by something in the shadows of the far corner of the room. A wry smile played across her lips. He looked like he was posing for an academically inclined statue of the new ruler. Talryn Rigel, the Thinker.
If only she could find some humor in it.
Long accustomed to her husband’s moods, Kass was adept at sensing when to leave him alone and when to stir still waters. But tonight she was puzzled. Every detail of the attack had been discussed, dissected, decided on. Every supply was loaded, every crew member in place. Supposedly, this was just another shakedown cruise, but rumors were rampant, excitement bubbling through the most sluggish veins.
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