Tears were good. But was Dace Pliska chosen by the Empire because she was a good actress? Impossible to tell.
Kass leaned forward, looking the former cadet in the eye, still wondering about her loyalty. But Tal was actively recruiting, and here were three Fleet-trained warriors offering themselves to the rebellion. “You and your friends stand by. When the captain comes back, I’ll tell him about you, let him take it from there.”
A whoosh of pent-up breath seemed to deflate the colorful Regulon to nearly Psyclid size. She offered a whispered “thank you” and thrust out her hand for a shake so hearty Kass almost winced.
In a soft swish of fabric so bright it glowed in the dark, Dace Pliska disappeared into the shadows. Dear goddess. Either they had three new recruits, or they’d just walked into a well-laid trap.
Chapter 14
Kass sipped her ripka, while casually searching the room one small section at a time, following Tal’s progress. Foolish to hide her growing irritation. She suspected a smuggler’s woman wouldn’t follow the creed of don’t-make-a-scene that Kass had adhered to since her last temper tantrum at age three. (Well, except for the krall.) And yet calling attention to themselves in a place like this could be remarkably unwise. Tal had disappeared into a small alcove off the main taverna, where she suspected he was talking with some of the best-known and wide-ranging freighter captains currently on Tatarus, gathering intel. Good. That’s what they were here for. That’s what was important.
But if she couldn’t see Tal, he couldn’t see her, which put her all alone in a bar full of dominant-type males and a very few women who seemed to come in four categories—servers, tough space jockeys in their own right, space groupies, or women for hire. And at the moment not one of them was alone. Only Kass Kiolani. Pok! This, then, was her role in the rebellion. S’sorrokan’s abandoned moll. And cover story.
Men at several different tables, not to mention the ones standing at the bar, kept turning their heads her way. Only the Nyx seemed indifferent, but then she probably looked as ugly to him as he did to her. Kass stifled a wince as the cacophony of sound around her beat against her ears. Regulon, well spiced with colorful words form the entire Nebulon Sector, was the common form of communication. But at Jingar’s the squeaks, growls, and grunts of truly alien species mixed with the contrasting cadences of Tat, Reg, Nyx, and Herc in almost stunning intensity. After so many years of silence, it was fast becoming more than she could bear. If Tal didn’t come back soon . . .
Kass tensed as a large Pybbite headed purposefully toward her table, his round body inside a sleeveless red tunic barely fitting between the close-packed chairs. The calf-length robe matched his eyes, Kass thought. Combined with pink skin and long white hair, he shone through the haze with the strength of a strobe light. Hard to tell his age when he was the first Pybbite she’d seen up close, but she guessed he wasn’t young. And she felt no menace from him. Curiosity, perhaps?
“Dama.” He bobbed a bow. “I am . . .”
He said his name but all Kass heard was a musical trill, totally unreproducible in any language she knew.
“You may call me Ryll,” the Pybbite added, clearly accustomed to confusion over his name. “I travel the whole sector, and you are the first female Psyclid I have ever seen. I mean no disrespect, but may I sit for a moment?”
Addressing her as dama indicated at least a cursory knowledge of her culture, and besides, sitting with almost anyone was preferable to sitting alone. Kass waved a hand toward Tal’s empty chair.
“May I replenish your ripka?” Ryll asked, nodding toward her empty mug.
“Yes, please.” Oh, no! The red eyes blinked at her soft, polite response, the Pybbite obviously revising his estimate of Captain Kane’s woman. Would she never learn how to dissemble, how to be a rebel in a strange land instead of always reacting as an impeccably trained princess?
Kass leaned back in her chair, trying to look as if she talked to aliens every day. She smiled. “You must be a very good trader if you have traveled so far. Is it permitted to ask what goods you sell?”
The Pybbite’s O of a mouth opened, showing sharp teeth, in what Kass guessed was a grin. “Unlike your Captain Kane, I sell only household goods and machinery, dama. I am just a wandering merchant, with no secrets.”
Kass felt a ripple of disquiet. Maybe it was the sharp teeth, or maybe it was the likelihood that no one on Tatarus was what they seemed.
“Have you been long with Captain Kane?”
“I have known him for some years,” Kass responded carefully, “but we have traveled together only recently.”
“Ah!” Another flash of teeth. “Just so. I believe there was a woman of his own kind with him the last time our paths crossed.”
Only years of strict training kept Kass from showing her reaction. For a moment she hid her face behind her mug, gulping down several swallows of the spicy ale. Subject change. Now.
“You say I’m the first Psyclid female you’ve met,” Kass offered. “Does that mean you’ve met some Psyclid men? It’s rare for any of our people to venture off planet, and I don’t recall any Pybbites coming to visit Psyclid, so may I ask where you met them?”
“Now, let me see . . .” Ryll closed his eyes, pressed his sausage-like fingers together in front of his round, pink face, and seemed to be sorting through a myriad planets in his mind. Yet Kass was almost certain he knew exactly where he had encountered Psyclids in his travels. “Ah, yes,” he finally said, “I do believe it was on Bender’s Folly, or perhaps you know it as Hell Nine? We make occasional stops there.”
Kass had. Bender’s Folly was a bleak planet so uninviting and so far off the regular shipping lanes that it was often referred to as the ninth (and blackest) hell of Obsidias. A very odd place to find beauty-loving Psyclids.
“That’s a long way from Psyclid,” Kass said. “Do you by any chance remember their names?”
“Alas, dama, no. But it was whispered that one of them was a sorcerer, the other two his companions.”
Ah, goddess! This time it was impossible to hide her reaction. Kass closed her eyes, swayed in her chair, gripped the edge of the table to steady herself. “Can you describe him?” Kass forced the question past lips so frozen they barely moved.
“Now, let me see . . .”
The Pybbite was playing games. If he’d met a Psyclid sorcerer, the image would be forever imprinted on his mind.
“Young,” Ryll said, “taller than his two Psyclid companions. Long black hair, a nose best described as regal. Eyes like a black hole, deep and turbulent. He quite gave me the shivers, I assure you.” The Pybbite lifted a beefy arm and wiped sweat from his forehead. “One of his companions, with perhaps more xaax under his belt than was wise, confided that their leader was a great sorcerer, and I had no reason to doubt him.”
Jagan. It had to be Jagan. Kass had thought him dead, along with the old Sorcerer Prime, whose death during interrogation had been widely reported on the news vids. Either Jagan, like herself, had managed to escape . . . or this round ball of a Pybbite was a remarkable liar.
Or was this what he’d come to her table to tell her? That Jagan Sitric Cormac Mondragon, Sorcerer Prime of Psyclid, was alive and well on Hell Nine.
“Hey, babe, you ready to go?” Captain Kane nodded to the Pybbite, while laying a possessive hand on Kass’s shoulder.
He did it so well—the smuggler captain—while she . . .
Pok! They couldn’t go yet. She had to know more.
Ryll heaved himself to his feet the moment Tal appeared and with a jerky bow to Captain Kane, headed back to his own table. Kass raised her voice so she could be easily overheard. “I am most definitely not ready to go. I’ve sat here alone for hours, simply hours. I’m entitled to enjoy myself a bit before you go dragging me back to the ship.”
Heads turned, smirks, chuckles, even a few guffaws as Jingar’s patrons enjoyed Kass’s show of temper. With a broad gesture, she swung her mug to her lips and chugged down a full in
ch, trying not to make a face. She wiped her mouth on her sleeve, as she’d seen other patrons do, and glared at Tal, her anger far from fake. She leaned in so it would look as if she was lashing him with a few more choice words, and told him about Dace Pliska and her friends.
Jagan Mondragon she would keep to herself.
Tal kept one hand close to his Steg-9, the other hovering over his dagger as he and Kass lingered in the shadowed alley that ran between Jingar’s and the building next door. Trap? Hard to tell. It was entirely possible Pliska and her friends had been sent to worm their way into the rebellion, to spy on rebel movements. Or perhaps their assigned goal was the death or capture of S’sorrokan . . .
It was the chance he had to take every time the rebellion accepted new recruits. Whether Fleet or some disaffected trader looking for adventure, any of them could be hiding behind a false façade, ready to betray the rebels to the Empire.
Three silhouettes emerged from the shadows at the rear of taverna. “Steg ready?” Tal hissed. Kass’s assent was taut. Probably never been in a face-to-face fight outside her Academy training in her life. “Stay behind me, he ordered, before moving toward the advancing shadows. When he was close enough to see their faces in the dim light over a side door, he planted his feet and waited for the hopeful recruits to make the first move. He never took his eyes off them, but he could feel Kass hovering at his side, just far enough away not to impede any sudden gesture he might make. And once again, not obeying orders.
The female took a step forward. “Captain, we’re off the Helios. I’m Dace Pliska, and this is Beric Androm. You may remember Rey Tolmen from when you were both in the Academy.”
The two men stepped forward, snapped to attention, and saluted. “Captain.”
Fleet salutes. From men in flowing, off-one-shoulder Zylon robes. For a moment Tal almost lost his imperturbable never-let-them-see-you-sweat face. If nothing else, there wasn’t much doubt about the three being Fleet-trained. And he did know Tolmen, though it had been a long time ago. An engineer, wasn’t he? The rebel fleet had grown to ten ships of varying sizes and origins, and he could certainly use an extra hand in engineering.
“When we took Orion and Archer,” Tal said, “my whole crew knew what they were doing. We’d discussed it and they were committed. Most of those who’ve joined us since have brought their ships with them. As you’ve probably heard, we take the ships and the crew who wish to join us and leave the rest where they can be found.”
“No chance of turning the Helios, sir,” Tolmen interjected. “But vids showed us what our ground troops were doing on one of the Nyx’s outer systems, and I just lost it. I couldn’t do it any more. Pliska and Androm are my particular friends, and when we talked about it, we agreed to jump ship and try to join the rebels.”
“We’re willing enough to fight, Captain,” Dace Pliska added. “Otherwise, we’d have shipped out on a freighter headed for some place warm and friendly long ago. But we’ve been getting by on Tat, hoping to find someone who could lead us to the rebellion. Rumor had it, that might be Captain Kane. What we didn’t expect was you, particularly you and Kiolani together. Not much doubt, after that.” She shrugged. “Kass being Psyclid, and you being dead.”
Spunky girl. It couldn’t have been easy for them, surviving on Tat, waiting for a rebel ride.
Unless they were funded by the Empire.
“You may have to fight former friends,” Tal warned. “That’s never easy. And”—he looked each of them in the eye—“if you don’t pass further interrogation aboard ship, you may not live to fight anyone at all.”
Tolmen nodded. “Understood, Captain.” He glanced at the other two, who also indicated their agreement.
Tal spoke into his comm unit, smiling to himself as a groundcar, waiting nearby, screeched to a halt beside them less than thirty seconds later. Even rebel captain’s had privileges. And this was a night when he planned to enjoy his to the fullest.
“The port, Bay C-12.” The five of them squeezed into the groundcar only when Tal pulled Kass onto his lap. The evening was improving rapidly.
Twenty minutes later, he watched Gemma’s doors slam on the three defectors from Helios. After the look on Kass’s face when he’d told her they weren’t returning to the scout ship with the others, he might be better off standing here staring after the shuttle for the rest of the night. Sometimes, with so many candidates offering themselves as replacements for Liona, he forgot the little Psyclid was not among them. That except for one brief moment in the Round Tower, she’d kept her distance, a proper officer to the core. It appeared she had no idea of the implications of “pairing” on ground leave.
“Come on,” Tal said with a jerk of his head. “The car’s still waiting.”
Kass didn’t move. “I thought we all went back to the ship so the other half of the crew could come down.”
“Most go back. “Dorn and I have special privileges. We usually stay over. And, besides, I picked up intel tonight that I need to pursue.” He grabbed her hand and guided her back outside. Mallik! On a planet that was mostly desert, her hands were cold. Which probably meant his bed was going to be cold as well. Obviously he hadn’t played this one well. S’sorrokan had had a great night, but Tal Rigel wasn’t doing too well.
Idiot! What did you expect, leaving the girl sitting by herself in a taverna? She’s supposed to fall all over you just because she owes you her life? Because she once licked your fingers?
With an infinitesimal shake of his head, Tal gave the driver the name of the best hotel on Tatarus. How fortunate the rebellion had a surprisingly ample supply of credits, because he’d just blown a large number of them on a forlorn hope. He strongly suspected Kass Kiolani didn’t consider herself part of his captain’s perks.
Chapter 15
Ah, but his moves were smooth, Kass thought. The ex-Fleet captain, rebel leader. S’sorrokan. He’d opened a voice-coded door and waved her into a suite that was just short of being as elegant as her quarters in the Round Tower. Civilization in the far reaches of the galaxy. The Tat equivalent of a honeymoon suite. A sofa, expansively upholstered in gold brocade, beckoned. Kass hadn’t realized how exhausted she was until saw it. Weeks of unending training on Astarte, her first bar in eight years—with all the sights, sounds, and smells that implied. Plus wall-to-wall people. Aliens. Defectors. Too much ripka?
Tal abandoning her.
Jagan.
Bit by bit she’d worn down—the girl who’d gone from solitary confinement in the Regulon Interplanetary Archives to a taverna on Tat inside sixty days. Kass dragged her feet to the sofa and sank into its comfort. For all the years she’d spent in the spartan confines of the Academy and imprisoned in the Archives, this was her world. Beauty. Luxury. And Tal knew it.
Superlative manipulator that he was.
Tal Rigel, the man who made miracles.
And too many assumptions.
Kass stared straight ahead, gazing out the broad top floor windows that overlooked Zylon City, but she could feel him was standing there, watching her. She suspected he’d finally sensed her disquiet and was playing it safe, waiting to see how she would react to this blatant love nest. Outside, the city was as aglow with multi-colored lights as its massive counterpart, Titan, had been that night four years ago when Tal whisked her away from the Academy, saving her from degradation and death.
He probably thought she didn’t fully appreciate all he’d done for her . . . or was he counting on her gratitude? Was it time to pay her debt?
“I need to clean up,” Kass announced, levering herself to her feet and heading for the door to what must be the bedroom and bathing chamber.
Coward!
Her inner voice was right. Logic had no part in her movements since they’d entered the suite. Fear, anger, guilt, disgust—yes. Combined with an arrogance that could match Tal Rigel’s any day, any time. How dare he . . . ? How dare he ignore her for the whole long journey from Blue Moon, ignore her all night at Jingar’s, and then
. . . ?
The great S’sorrokan snapped his fingers, and she was supposed to be ready, willing, and cooing sweet nothings. Well, she had a few thousand words to say about that!
Dimi! Kass stopped short halfway across the spacious bedroom. Two carry-alls sat side by side on a luggage rack tucked against one wall, one of them her own. Zee-Zee. Kass seethed. Just when she thought she’d found a friend . . .
Did everyone on the whole batani ship know?
But of course they did. That must be what pairing implied. They’d all been watching with avid eyes, waiting for the moment the captain claimed his prize.
Fyd!
In all fairness, Zee-Zee probably thought she was aiding and abetting romance. After all, everyone knew the captain was obsessed by the little Psyclid. Kass was Tal Rigel’s chosen woman. She should be honored.
And maybe she would have been if he hadn’t been so . . . careless about the whole thing. So sneaky.
If Psyclids hadn’t become a captive race.
And if Jagan Mondragon weren’t alive and well on Hell Nine.
Grim-faced, Kass sat on the bed—the one large bed—and tugged off her boots. She went into the bathing room and washed every part of her not clothed—no way was she stripping down for a shower under the present circumstances! Her heavy face enhancements now gone, she peered in the mirror and saw a damp but innocent wide-eyed virgin about to face the Big Bad Wolf. Now there was a tale that had echoed down through the years. If only females paid more attention to its lesson.
Kass sighed and padded back over the bedroom carpet in leggings and knit top. What was Tal expecting? Kass Kiolani in nothing more than bra and panties? Or maybe Zee-Zee had packed something sexy Kass didn’t even know she owned?
Or had the great Captain Rigel felt the chill and knew Kass had already marked that gold sofa for her own? Not an easy choice when she’d loved him for so long.
No. Loved his phantom for so long. But the Fates were working against them, tossing negatives from every angle. Truth was, this wasn’t the time or place.
Rebel Princess Page 12
