Rebel Princess

by Bancroft, Blair

  “Sorry, Captain, but you can’t be any more disappointed than K’kadi. I swear he was ready to walk right up to the ship and demand entry.”

  Tal turned to Kass. “Is K’kadi reliable? Can I assume we were attacked by hired thugs?”

  Propping her chin on her thumbs, her index fingers touching her nose, Kass took several moments to think before she replied. “I did not know K’kadi possessed this skill, but I do know he would never lie. It’s not in him. So, yes, I think you can safely assume he traced the men back to the right ship.

  “But,” she added firmly, “I think you should seriously consider the coincidence of being attacked while Scorpio is in port. If Tegge’s defection is a trap, what greater blow to the rebellion than cutting off its head?”

  “Kass! Tegge’s bringing us a huntership.”

  “You’re so dazzled, you’ve forgotten the Old Earth legends you learned in school. Among them, beware the Trojan horse!”

  Anton Stagg broke his at-ease stance, stepping closer to the bed. “There were people on Tat who knew we were coming here, sir. The rumors about a fat prize waiting on X-33 were pretty widespread. You’ll recall we all feared a trap, but when we saw the huntership . . . well, Captain, I don’t know how it was on the bridge, but there was a lot of cheering on D Deck.” The lieutenant shrugged. “Sorry, sir, but with a prize like that, maybe none of us looked as close as we should.”

  That hurt, and coming from a lowly marine lieutenant at that. “The med techs seem to have relieved me of my comm unit, Lieutenant. Find Commander Jorkan and have him report to me immediately.”

  “Yes, sir.” Stagg snapped to full attention, saluted, and practically ran from the room.

  “And now, Ensign Kiolani”—Tal made a point of emphasizing her junior rank—“explain why you’re so suspicious of Captain Tegge. Have you sensed deception, hostility?”

  “What I sensed was so cool and composed that I can only assume it was a façade. I would expect a Fleet captain defecting from the Empire with her ship and crew would feel excitement, worry, even fear she might not be doing the right thing. But from Tegge there was simply . . . nothing.”

  “Captains tend not to show their emotions.” Stating the obvious to Kass Kiolani for whom he cared so much and shown so little. Though surely even a low-level empath could feel his heat when they were together? Or did she interpret it as merely lust?

  Kass plunged on, as if she hadn’t even noted what he was trying to say. “The Sorcerer Prime is a more powerful weapon than another huntership. Not that you shouldn’t accept Scorpio, if you really believe Tegge is for real. But are there any other rebel ships you could contact for backup?”

  “Ensign Kiolani, Tactician Prime.”

  “Don’t mock me!” Kass shot to her feet, amber eyes raging. Pok, but she was gorgeous. Even with bone-weariness showing behind her anger and facial enhancements fading under the room’s unforgiving lighting, she was everything he’d ever wanted.

  “Jealous, Kiolani?” Mallick! Why did he keep taunting her? Somewhere, deep down, did he actually resent Kass facing him as an equal, instead of lowly ensign to captain?

  “Jealous? Of that platidon?” Kass drew herself up to her full height, causing interesting things to happen in the vicinity of her gown’s plunging V-neckline. One more huff and . . .

  “I am the ParaPrime designate,” she intoned, looking down her dainty and undoubtedly aristocratic nose. “I do not do jealous.” Kass clapped her hands over her mouth, slowly sank into her chair, bending forward until her forehead rested on his blanket. Silence enveloped them, thoughts still shouting inside their heads. Warring emotions he felt all too clearly. Doubt. Satisfaction. Mortification. Triumph.

  Fortunately, Kass was on his uninjured side. Tal cupped her head in his hand, threaded his fingers through her hair. Ah, that felt good. He’d wanted to touch those shining black waves since the first time he’d seen her with her hair down. “It’s all right, Kass. You being jealous brightens my day.”

  A flash of anger loud and clear. Now what was wrong?

  Kass raised her head, scowling. “I am angry because I revealed something I wished to keep secret, not because . . .” She sniffed. “Not because I admit to jealousy of that oversized, unfeeling—”

  “You are the ParaPrime’s heir, the most gifted female of your race. Why should that be secret?”

  Her lips thinned above a stubborn chin, her amber eyes dark with an emotion he couldn’t identify. Pok! He was new to this shared emotions thing and adjusting badly.

  “On Psyclid,” Kass said, “my power is great. Here”—she waved her hand to encompass the ship around them—“I am nothing. A not-quite-official ensign addressing her captain. Obviously, a role I cannot sustain, even though the goddess knows I’ve tried.”

  Suddenly, she melted, chin, lips, her whole body softening into the enticing young woman she’d been for a few short hours last night. “It’s never been safe for a Psyclid to flaunt his or her power off world. But for me the situation was particularly difficult. On Orion I wanted to impress you—show you how well I could fight. Yet I had to hold close the secret of how. I wanted . . . I wanted you to admire me as a warrior and see me as a woman.” Kass offered a rueful smile. “Arrogant and unrealistic, I know. But you see, I wanted you to like me, and I feared the truth about my weird Psyclid ways would drive you away.

  “And then . . .” A ripple of darkness crossed her face. “My world fell in and I ended up living on fantasy, even communicating with the dead, creating a man, a lover, who had never really existed except in my mind.” Kass gulped, steepling her fingers a moment before plunging on. “I’m doing everything I can to come to terms with reality. I still want you to like me—the real Tal Rigel liking the real Kass Kiolani. And tonight was a good start, but with our usual luck . . . here we are.” She shrugged, glancing around the room at the ugly metal walls, the glaring lights, the utilitarian furnishings

  “And I’m an entitled arrogant son of an arrogant son of a long line of arrogant sons,” Tal growled, driving a fist into the bedcover. “The swaggering eldest son, accustomed to success, certain that if I willed something, it would happen. Anything I wanted, it was mine. If I rescued a spunky Psyclid with special gifts, then she was mine. I had only to reach out and take her.”

  While he spoke, Kass turned her face toward him, amber eyes still veiled and wary, but he had her full attention. “For that I’m truly sorry, Kass. In my head I made you into some absurd combination of a goddess of war and a goddess of love. You were mine, and why in the nine hells couldn’t you see that? And then for a moment in the Round Tower, I thought you felt it too. If I hadn’t made a dash for the door, I would have played out my dreams then and there. But the Hierarchy was waiting, and sanity surfaced just long enough to get me out of there.” With a rueful grimace, Tal shook his head. “Believe me, Kass, I got the message back on Tat. That’s why dinner tonight. You’re special to me, and I wanted to make a start on merging our fantasies with reality.”

  She was sitting up now, eyes wide, as if waiting for the final line of some magic spell that would make their confusing phantom images go away. But he couldn’t say he loved her because he still loved the Kass of his dreams, and Kass’s continuing personal revelations kept chipping away at his fantasy. Telekinesis beyond his greatest expectation. A fiancé. Telepathy. Heir to the ParaPrime. His little Psyclid was far more than a siren who filled his head with lustful dreams. She had power. Power enough to make even S’sorrokan wary. As for Tal Rigel . . .

  He held out his hand. She clasped it readily, looking solemn. “New day,” Tal said. “We’ve each saved the other at least twice—don’t forget those fighters back on Regula—so we’re far from strangers. I’ll vow to anchor myself to what we are now, if you will. Can we manage that?”

  “The trouble is,” Kass responded slowly, “I keep expecting reality to explode, as my fantasies did. Surely it’s too much to ask that you’re really alive and we’re together on Orio
n, where I always dreamed of being.”

  Definitely the most encouraging words he’d heard yet. “I’ll show you what’s real,” Tal growled and pulled her toward him.

  “No, not like this!” Kass’s glare stopped him short. “Did you not learn about droit de seigneur when you were in school?”

  “Didn’t need to,” Tal shot back, “my family’s been practicing it for years.” He couldn’t have said that. Shouldn’t have. But sometimes his little Psyclid was too stubborn for her own good. This time she’d crossed the line. Truth was, no Rigel man had ever had to take a woman—they fell into his ancestors’ arms, and his own, with willing regularity.

  And he’d been celibate too damned long. All because of one small female who wouldn’t accept her fate.

  Fyd! They’d both contributed to this impasse, neither capable of humbling themselves long enough to pierce the centuries of arrogant supremacy that had made them what they were. Their planets’ bravest and best, forever separate like oil and water.

  Later. He’d find a solution later. At the moment he was too tired to fight.

  “Thanks for sitting with me, Kass.” He spoke gently, all contention swept away. “I’m glad you were here. Now go get some sleep. And, Kass,” he added as she stood up, “if I forgot to mention it, that’s a beautiful gown.”

  She paused. “You didn’t forget. You said all the right things. Last night.”

  And then she was gone, leaving him to damn the two assassins for a great deal more than the hole in his shoulder.

  “Captain? Tal?”

  Blasted girl had his head so mixed up he hadn’t even noticed his First Officer and best friend enter the room. For a few moments strength flooded back. He was S’sorrokan, and there were other problems besides one small scrap of a woman.

  After a discussion that ranged from last night’s attack to Captain Tegge, Scorpio, and the revelation that Psyclid’s Sorcerer Prime had escaped the Regulon invasion, Tal closed his eyes and sank into his pillows. Jaw clenched, he struggled in silence, juggling Kass’s words against Dorn’s, ruthlessly shutting out Tal Rigel’s emotions to deal with the problems confronting S’sorrokan.

  His eyes snapped open. “Commander Jorkan, inform Captain Tegge Scorpio will rendezvous with Astarte off Tatarus a Reg month from now. Meanwhile, she’s to stay off the Empire’s scanners best means available. And, yes, I know she’s not going to like it,” he added at the suddenly wary look on his First Officer’s face, “but there’s no point in taking Scorpio with us on a sidetrip to nowhere. Nor do I want that bunch of smugglers on Hell Nine to think we’re mounting an invasion.”

  “Got it, Captain.” Dorn Jorkan’s face skewed into a grimace. “Guess this is news I’d better deliver in person. That’s one tough lady. Think she’ll hold me hostage?”

  “Send the marines,” Tal responded, straight-faced. “You have an hour, Commander,” he added briskly, “then set a course for Hell Nine, best possible speed.”

  And Omnovah save them all if his little Psyclid had been led astray by that fat pink Pybbite on Tat.

  Chapter 20

  “Best possible speed” turned out to be seventeen days and three zigzag jumps through obscure gates into the darkest regions of the Nebulon Sector. But for Kass, life aboard Astarte improved. She no longer worked an eighteen-hour day. Tal, evidently satisfied with her tactical and navigation skills, assigned her to a standard duty schedule that cut her hours on the bridge in half. And K’kadi was showing signs of developing discipline at last, though they’d never gotten those moments off-ship that would have let her test his talents more fully. Kass could now sit with K’kadi at meals and simply enjoy his company, or stand beside him at a viewport, awed by the near-emptiness of this portion of the quadrant. K’kadi. Brother. Her own kind.

  But over everything loomed two even greater changes in her life. At the other end of this long, dark run through space was Jagan Mondragon—official fiancé, intended consort of the Princess Royal, intended father of psychically superior children. She had run from him once, certain that time and compassion of the goddess would spare her. Yet here she was, running straight toward him. At her own request.

  Tal would save her. Kass smiled. K’kadi was not always her dinner companion. In a shift of routine that sent ripples of gossip throughout the ship, Captain Tal Rigel frequently shared his evening meal with his most junior officer. Kass made a face. Not that they’d progressed past exploring each other’s lives prior to becoming rebels—in Kass’s case, facts carefully edited—but the dinners were helping. The Tal Rigel from her days in the Archives was beginning to fade, gradually merging into the vital, determined rebel leader sitting across the table from her. Into the would-be lover who finally admitted he had his own problems separating her from the cadet he called his little Psyclid, the girl he had talked to in his dreams, the phantom female he had taken to his bed on many a lonely night.

  Not an easy admission for a proud, hard-headed man like Tal Rigel.

  Kass, lying fully clothed on top of her bed, heaved a sigh. Psyclids didn’t have a monopoly on weird. That Tal had dreamed of her as she had dreamed of him was too, too strange. Not Fleet Captain Tal Rigel. Not the hard-headed S’sorrokan. Men didn’t do that. Fantasies were for females. Weren’t they?

  Maybe not. Which would explain why they were still circling warily around each other, trying to separate truth from fiction. Separate living, breathing, often contentious reality from the sexy, always amenable “other” each had created in their heads.

  Zee-Zee looked up from her viewscreen, where she’d been studying the latest fashions back on Regula Prime. “Women who are getting laid as often as you are,” she announced, “shouldn’t be frowning.”

  “Women with my opportunities who are still virgins have every reason to frown.”

  “Omni have mercy! Tell me you’re joking.”

  “Uh-uh.”

  Zee-Zee whooshed out a long breath. “So what are you saving it for? If it’s a lifetime contract you want, I have to tell you spacers don’t do that much. Maybe that’s how things are done on Psyclid, but—” Zee-Zee broke off, adding after a moment, “Sorry. It’s absolutely none of my business, but the captain’s such a great guy . . . uh, sorry.”

  Kass sat up, facing her roommate squarely. “You are Zandra Foxx, my roommate. I can’t even imagine you not saying what you think. I wish I could explain about the captain and me, but I can’t, because I don’t really understand it myself.”

  Zee-Zee kept her mouth shut, but her puzzled face said it all. Kass could only hope K’kadi wasn’t in his room next door, or his puzzled face was going to appear, hovering next to Zee-Zee’s. And this definitely wasn’t a matter she cared to discuss with her little brother.

  “We have some issues to straighten out,” Kass said at last, “not the least of which is the reason we’re going to Hell Nine. We expect to find a man named Jagan Mondragon there, and even though I told him long ago that I had no intention of marrying him, he is officially my betrothed.”

  “Your what?” Zee-Zee’s screech undoubtedly penetrated both walls. They would have both Dorn and K’kadi down on them at any minute.

  “According to the laws of Psyclid, Jagan and I are betrothed.”

  “The captain’s taking you to a rendezvous with your fiancé? No way, Kass. That’s absurd.”

  “Tal sees Jagan as an asset, a weapon. Like me.”

  “You’re the captain’s woman. No way he’s going to share.”

  Kass gasped. “No, no. Eight years ago, I told Jagan I wouldn’t marry him, and I’ll tell him again when I see him.”

  “Great. You’re jilting him, then asking him to join the rebellion and take orders from your new man? Are you out of your mind? He’ll likely turn the captain into a toad.”

  “Never!” Kass narrowed her eyes at her roommate. “Jagan doesn’t practice black magic . . . even if he does know how,” she added more softly.

  Zee-Zee curled her lips into a lopsided grimace.
“So we’re going to Hell Nine so you can get un-betrothed?”

  “I told you—we’re going because Jagan will be a major asset to the rebellion.”

  “Well, pok!” Zee-Zee huffed a breath. “You sure know how to pick ’em.”

  “The problem, among other things,” Kass responded stiffly, “is that Jagan may be quite happy on Hell Nine. He’s not exactly known as a patriot.” Kass studied her booted toes. “I’m not sure what I’ll have to promise to get him to join us.”

  “Fyd!”

  “Right.”

  “And until then you and the captain . . . ?”

  “I’m afraid that’s only one of our problems, but, yeah, our—uh—relationship is on semihold until we get the problem of Jagan straightened out.”

  “You’re beyond crazy, girl, but I’m rooting for you. You know that, right?”

  “I know.” Kass offered a wan smile. “And thanks. I’m glad you’re my roommate.”

  “The trouble with getting this far off the space lanes,” Dorn Jorkan drawled, “is that there’s too little to do and too much time to think. There’s talk, Tal. And escalating into something I don’t like.”

  Tal frowned at the bottle of ripka in his hand. When both Dorn and Mical appeared at the door to his quarters at the same time, he’d known why they were here. The uneasiness sweeping his crew was palpable. Though not one question, not one word of protest, had reached his ears, he’d felt the unrest for several days now. Even K’kadi had lost his smile.

  Tal leaned back against the burgundy plasti-upholstered sofa and waved his bottle of ripka at his First Officer. “So spell it out.”

  Dorn’s gray eyes flared. “This crew followed you into rebellion, Tal. Gave up everything simply because you asked them to.” He glanced at Mical. “Mallick, we all did. There’s not a disloyal person among us, but word’s out that we’re going to the back end of nowhere to pick up something called the Sorcerer Prime. The Psyclid Sorcerer Prime. And they’re scared, Tal. Fydding scared.”