Too Long a Soldier (Kingdom Key Book 3)

by TylerRose.

  “Seems to be the only kind you meet,” Jerome remarked.

  “Yeah, well. It was my job for a time. His ship is orbiting the AASTT moon behind Pluto. It is the same as an embassy here in the USA. The station cannot go onto it. The Administration has no authority.”

  “Get to your point,” he cut her off.

  “Mankell has requested a meeting,” Shestna said.

  “With who? With Tyler,” he realized in the same breath. “On his ship orbiting the enemy station. No way. It’s too fuckin’ dangerous.”

  “Jerome—“

  “No, Tyler. It would be too easy for them to snatch you.”

  “They won’t,” she countered calmly.

  “You can’t be safe there,” he said, trying to keep calm himself and not shout.

  “It’s too important a meeting, Jerome. I’m not asking for your permission. I’ll go without your approval. I’m simply informing you that I’m going,” she said with a bit more bite to her tone.

  “As your commanding officer, I forbid it.”

  Her eyes hardened to a dangerous darkness. “Don’t you dare presume to forbid me. You don’t rule me. You don’t permit or forbid me a mother fucking thing.”

  “Stop it, both of you,” Shestna interceded, stepping between them and facing him. “Jerome, she must go. There can be no other way, my friend. There will be no other opportunity. I will not let her out of my sight. I will personally shield her presence and guarantee her safe return.”

  “What can be so important about this meeting that you both risk getting caught?” Jerome wanted to know.

  “Information,” Tyler said. “And the other half of our army.”

  “We have information.”

  “So that means you know the name of the ship’s captain and crew and what houses they came from on K’Tran? I don’t think so. Curry, however, does. He must answer every question I put to him or forfeit his life.”

  “What? That’s ridiculous,” Jerome shook his head at her.

  “K’Tran has very particular rules,” Shestna said. “She saved his life and now he belongs to her. Before Mankell can take him home, she has to formally relinquish Curlein to his father. Otherwise he would be like an unliving person, unable to have relationships or inherit his father’s lands and title.”

  “I don’t like it. Not one bit,” Jerome said.

  “We’ll argue about it later,” she replied. “Time’s a-tickin’.”

  “Yes, we will talk about it later. See me the minute you get back. Not tomorrow morning. Teleport directly to my bedroom.”

  She and Shestna vanished and Jerome stalked back down to his room more pissed than he’d been in a long time. He began a grueling workout of kicks and wing chun forms.

  “Where is Tyler?” Landra Ahr asked from the doorway about half an hour later.

  “Where she shouldn’t be!” Jerome growled, and issued a kick that would have killed any human.

  “Where?”

  “I’m dealing with it, Landra. So let me deal with it. She’s keeping me informed, which is better than before.” Not to mention, just hours ago he’d said he liked this new playing by her own rules thing.

  “Very well. Give me your report as soon as you can.”

  Chapter Thirty Three

  Arriving on the ship,the energies surrounding Tyler were at once familiar and powerful. She felt herself harden and her eyes set in that way she’d lived for weeks. Old habits from living in an ardent Gar’s home.

  “Councilman Shestna. Welcome aboard.”

  Tyler could not keep her smile back. G’Ven, Mankell’s Houseman, his closest servant and the one who had most helped her find her footing in the early days in the Ancient House of Meathe. She had been very fond of him, still had a portrait he’d painted of her. The walking stick she’d used after the battle in February had been his.

  As expected, they were led to a smallish audience chamber with a throne-like chair fit for a king. K’Tran Gars were the king of their own lands, ruling as they saw fit within the laws of the Rosaas.

  Mankell was Mankell, unchanged from one timeline to the next. She even recognized the clothes he wore. An embroidered silk vest tunic with bare arms paired with silk pants. Leather boots she recognized as well, down to the crease that marred them. The equivalent of his power suit, made to show off his muscular physique and wealth.

  Mingling soldiers parted with G’Ven’s passing. They stared down at this small, pale-skinned Earth female who looked so different from their dusky females. She knew their thoughts easily enough. This creature? This small, weak-looking fragile thing was a hard-hearted warrior who feared no man?

  “Gar Mankell, Prince Shestna of Voran III,” G’Ven made the announcement, and bowed aside.

  Mankell and Shestna lifted and nodded their heads in the common gesture of acknowledgment and mutual respect. Tyler did not budge.

  Shestna gestured to her. “I present the warrior Tyler of Sistarian Heritage.”

  “You brought my son back to me,” Mankell said.

  “Shestna brought him. I unshackled him from his prison and removed him from it,” she corrected. “I gave him to Shestna for safekeeping.”

  Perception and accuracy were highly important in K’Tran society.

  Mankell stared hard at her, trying to read her soul. “I am grateful to you,” he said at last, tone as soft as it had ever been toward her. His way of showing sincerity.

  Gratitude from a K’Tran was no small thing for a woman. She could demand almost anything and he would be honor-bound to give it.

  “There is something you must have from my son before he can be mine again,” he continued after that briefest second.

  Arm out, his first two fingers gestured Curry forward from where he had been standing. Burning with humiliation to have his life saved and owned by a female, clenching his jaw tight against the indignity of it, Curry lowered to his knees facing her. Kneeling to a female in his father’s presence, for all their House soldiers to see was an almost unbearable degradation. Nowhere to hide in his disgrace, he could only endure it well. He crossed his wrists as he bowed his head, raised his arms to her in supplication

  “What is it you wish of me, Seersa?”

  An interesting choice of words that gave her ownership of his soul and utter dominion over him.

  “I want the name of every person involved in Solomon’s Rovan operation.

  He named them in order of rank, beginning with Osan as the Captain of the spaceship on down to the lowest ranking soldiers. He named several humans as well, but Tyler was not so interested in them.

  G’Ven wrote down each name, handing the paper to Tyler when it was complete. She made a psionic copy and gave the original back, feeling the surprise from the soldiers around her for the magic trick she performed so casually.

  “I think Gar Mankell should keep a copy of this list,” she said, eyes on the Gar. “I’m sure the Rosaas would like to know where their best privateer has gone off to with their ship and crew. I’m sure there are some criminal charges they would like to bring involving the theft of said ship and unauthorized invasion of a lesser planet.”

  “Indeed, Lar Tyler,” G’Ven said.

  She turned enough to look at Mankell. “Perhaps the Rosaas would like to send a ship or two? To collect these outlaws who poison the population of said lesser planet,” she concluded, her eyes holding particular meaning as she equaled Mankell’s strong gaze.

  “You know much of our world, Lar Tyler,” he said suspiciously.

  “I have no further need of your son,” she said, ignoring his statement. “He is returned to you a man, with no conditions other than a demand he not be further punished. Not by you and not by the Rosaas. His own conscience has suffered enough. When I found him, he had been imprisoned by Osan for refusing to rape a female he knew to be weak and unwilling. This is a honorable thing in both our worlds and should be recognized and rewarded as such. Had he not refused, he would not be returned to you this day. He
would likely be dead. It was not a good night to join the Raas.”

  Mankell thought a moment. He had always been a thinking diplomat, a careful plotter.

  “Your grace in this matter is extraordinary. It will not be forgotten, Lar Tyler.”

  “Good life to you,” she replied. “Enjoy the peace of your exalted Mondragoon.”

  She vanished, returning first to her own room to catch a breath. She looked at the piece of paper in her hands, with its long lists of names written in three columns. She would have to translate it for Jerome, but that would wait. At the moment, its current form was almost more important. She walked down the stairs to knock on Jerome’s door. Opening it, he glowered down on her. She held up the list.

  “What’s this?” he asked, voice tinged with anger.

  “The name of every person known to be involved with Solomon’s Rovan ring, including humans.”

  He took it, keeping his jaw from dropping. Glancing up, seeing Landra Ahr in the doorway of the Command Center, he backed away and brought her into his room.

  “I’d put you over my knee and spank the daylights outta you if I thought it would do any good,” he said.

  “Tease.”

  “It’s not fuckin’ funny, Tyler. You could have been captured.”

  “No one will know a thing. Only Mankell’s men were present. There are few safer places or people in the galaxy than a female in the company of Mankell and his soldiers. He is taking this list back to the Rosaas, the governing body of K’Tran VI. They employ the privateers and own the ships. Every K’Tran who is here is in violation of a number of K’Tran laws and the Rosaas are not forgiving. It has been suggested, by me of course,” she smiled, “that the Rosaas should send a ship or two to collect those fugitives. I have no doubt that I will be contacted and asked when will be a good time. We need to work out a date so I can coordinate the two halves of our new army.”

  Jerome stared at her. “It’s a damn good thing we have this trust thing.”

  “Still mad at me?” she asked with an impish grin.

  He took her hand and brought her to sit across his lap in his desk chair. “I was never mad at you, babe. I am mad that you put yourself into a situation of great potential danger and I couldn’t go with you to protect you.”

  “I don’t need protection. I need you to understand that I will do whatever I must to obtain my objective. Now more than ever.”

  “You’ve always done that,” he said. “I hate you taking these kinds of risks is all. I don’t trust anyone other than Landra Ahr to watch over you.”

  “What about Meechi?” she asked.

  “Meechi isn’t going to be going to any space ships,” he decided. “That’s Landra’s job.”

  She grasped his short goatee to hold his head still and stare him in the good eye. “Trust me to take care of myself. I do a pretty good job most of the time.”

  “It’s not that easy, babe.”

  “I’m not your family,” she said out of the blue, and struck the right spot. “I’m not gonna die on you. I’m too much a fuckin’ bitch to die.”

  “No, but you keep scarin’ the shit outta me. You gotta stop doin’ that,” he replied, pulling her closer against himself to lay her head on his shoulder.

  “No promises.”

  He held her in the silence and she let him. After a moment, he reached for the paper. Brown, unlined. Almost didn’t feel like paper. Felt more like thin fabric but was stiff like paper.

  “How, exactly, did you get this?”

  “Curry owed me his life. I took this in exchange. Now he will have an honorable place at his father’s side, which is all he ever wanted in the first place.”

  “Like any son,” Jerome commented.

  “It’s funny though. Seems I am doing the same things all of a sudden. Exposing pirates, helping Curry.”

  “I guess you’re just supposed to do them.”

  She moved to leave his lap but he wouldn’t let her go.

  “I’m tired,” she said. “I need to go to sleep.”

  “I need to have you close tonight. Sleep in my bed.”

  She blinked at him a few seconds, deciding. “I’m too tired to do anything.”

  “Didn’t say anything about doing anything. I want you within arm’s reach. Nothing more. Go lie down. I’ll be there shortly.” He kissed her cheek.

  She went, stripping down to her skin next to it before lifting the light blanket to slide in.

  Jerome picked up the list and read names, guessing most were K’Tran, and scanned down to find the human ones. Twenty two of them. He turned to his computer and used Landra’s hack to get into the FBI database. He looked for each name in turn, creating an entry when he didn’t find one. He put in Rovan connections for each and cross-referenced each name with the others through the known associates section. With any luck the Feds would start rounding them up in a few days.

  Turning off the computer and then the lamp, he spun his chair and halted short. Above the bed, in the wall, was a huge whirling swirl of sparkling blackness. In the dim light of the moon coming in his windows, he saw a grey smudge float up from the floor and disappear into the swirl. Another followed. The swirl closed and the wall was again a wall. But a large winged shadow flew through the moonlight. Rushing to the window, Jerome saw nothing. Over his shoulder, he could still see the flying form on the wall in shadow.

  He remembered what Landra Ahr had said about someone coming to heal her, someone Landra could barely detect and could not identify. He went to the Command Center to ask if Landra had just recorded such an appearance.

  “I did, yes. It lasted ten seconds and flew out the middle window.”

  “It’s the same one? You’re sure?” Jerome asked.

  “Yes.”

  “But it never tries to harm her?”

  “It does not. It comes. There is a portal event. It leaves,” Landra Ahr said.

  “Well, hell. There’s not a whole hell of a lot to do about it, is there?”

  “There is not.”

  “I’m going to bed.”

  Nude into bed with her and Tyler gravitated to him. He held her close, absorbing himself in her scent, her feel. The warmth and softness of her skin. He fell asleep wishing she would be in his arms just like this for three thousand years. He woke first. He always did. Into shorts and a t-shirt and out for his jog, he kept to his routine.

  Landra Ahr waited for her to go to her room and make her first cup of coffee before going up to speak with her.

  “Why do you feel it necessary to put yourself at risk as you did last night?” he asked after a cursory morning greeting.

  “Because that’s the only way shit’s gonna get done,” she said, and blew gently across the surface of her hot coffee.

  “I do not agree.”

  “So that means you have an army in your hip pocket. Last I knew, you didn’t. I do. Possibly two.”

  “Why did you not come to me?”

  “Because of this right here,” she snapped. “I didn’t want to argue about it then and I’m not going to discuss it now. Drop the subject.”

  She reached out a hand and that same journal came to her. Opened to a page, resting on her thigh.

  “I cannot protect you if I don’t know where you’re going.”

  “There was no way to protect me. Not there. No one could go with me but Sta.”

  Any mortals who call themselves god

  cannot maintain a Just Cause.

  She closed the book and sent it back to its spot.

  “I’m going to Mickey’s today. We have a gig. I’ll be back late.”

  Nails watched her, oblivious to everyone else as she sang what he wanted her to. A kick-ass rockin’ version of I Feel the Earth Move, I Need a Man, Love is a Stranger, I Touch Myself and six others. Every hot song he loved to watch her perform. But she wasn’t one hundred percent. She tired too easily, coming off the stage after only an hour.

  When she didn’t come out of the cabana, he went in.
She was finishing a cry at the mirror, head on her folded arms on the dressing table.

  “What’s going on, babygirl?” he asked, hands on her shoulders to give her a light rub.

  “I’m tired. I’m fine.”

  “Who you lyin’ to? That’s gotta be yourself because I know you’re not lying to me.”

  “None of your people deal the Rovan, do they?” she asked, looking up at him in the mirror.

  “No.”

  “Good.”

  “So what happened?” he pressed.

  Loud cheering and shouting outside startled her.

  “It’s noisy here. Take us somewhere,” he said.

  A warm sunset beach he recognized as Thomas’ private Malibu residence. Bed high up off the sand, breeze blowing. She was sitting on the end, watching the waves.

  “You disappeared again,” he said, leaning against a post and enjoying the wet sand under his feet.

  “I did not. I was busy.”

  “Doing what?” he asked, already knowing well enough since he’d been there watching most of it.

  “Getting a handle on a very unwanted Rovan addiction. Playing intergalactic chess.”

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “I really don’t want to talk about it, Kevin.”

  “But you will,” he decided.

  “Oh, I will?”

  His strong finger raised her face, making her look at him. “You will. You’re not just the chick who sings with the band. You’re not just the daughter of one of my clients. You know that. You’ve never been anything less than my reason for living, my dearest babygirl. I have watched over you since before you were born. I know things. You know things. I simply cannot speak on them. So tell me. Tell me so I am aware and ready when the time comes that Tiberius brings you to me.”

  Silence, looking up at him, and she realized she could not refuse him anymore than she could refuse Jerome.

  “I’m very tired,” she said. “I need to lie down.”

  He sat against the pillows at the head of the bed and she slid to him. Her head on his chest, she told him the story of Hell Night, leaving out nothing. More than a few tears. More than once and not all hers, even though he’d been there to see it firsthand. If he hadn’t fucked up, this would not have happened to her.