Legend Beyond The Stars (25 page)

”Mmmm?”

“I was wondering about your First Officer. Do you know whether he likes any of my friends? If so, then there may be trouble as all of them have paired off with Darkon men apart of course for Elise. That would definitely not do. I consider her too young to become involved with such an older and complicated man.”

“Do not trouble yourself, my Alana. Unthinkable to suggest my friend Magar is too old to find a mate.” Tarak’s snort of mild outrage ruffled her hair causing it to blow across her eyes.

Alana impatiently flicked it aside and evaded his searching lips. “Perhaps but he is definitely too old for Elise, not that he has shown any interest in her previously. So it has to be one of the others.” She sat up, ignoring Tarak’s sigh. “The last thing both you and I need is a bunch of blokes fighting over a girl.”

“There will be no fighting.”

“How can you say that? So now you can see into the future?”

Irritated, Tarak grabbed her waist, dragging her onto the bed and neatly pinned her as he settled his heavy body over hers.

“Forget this talk of fighting. I have it all under control. Do not let us spend our last hours together arguing about useless matters.”

“I do not consider my friends’ well-being to be useless,” Alana hissed as she glared into the face so close to hers. Hurt pierced her heart at the import of his words. So he
was
leaving her. As all good soldiers knew, the best method of defence was attack. “And what’s all this about our last hours together? You sound as if you don’t intend to return.”

“You are a warrior. You know there is always risk,” he murmured evasively.

“What I know is you’re not telling me everything. You don’t intend to come back, do you? You’re going to leave me here? I mean us. All of us. Like all men, you’ve had your fun and now it’s goodbye and hello freedom again.” Alana closed her eyes so he could not see how his words shattered her heart.

“Look at me Alana.” He smoothed her hair from her forehead, lightly tapped her nose. When she opened her eyes, he continued, “I must do my duty. I will be taking only those who choose to go with me. Our mission is to make contact and enlist the support of renegade Darkon warriors. Together we will launch a final attack on the garrison of Elite Forces. It is unfortunate the headquarters of their leader is unknown to us. I admit our chances of return are not good.”

“I could go with you. I can fight,” she whispered.

Panic and admiration twisted his gut. Face impassive, Tarak smiled. “Aaaah, my little warrior. We both know you cannot leave the other women. They will need you when the end comes.”

Fear stole her breath. “The end?”

“The Darkon race is doomed. Should we fail in our attack, this last outpost will be overrun by Elite Forces and that rabble. Those not killed by the hostilities will spend the
remainder of their days imprisoned, subjected to torture. I dare not think of your fate.” Tarak leaned back on the bed, his jaw clenched so hard a pulse ticked beside his thinned mouth.

“So this fate is going to be worse than being your slave?” she challenged.

His eyes were cool and fathomless as they met her ironic gaze. “Yes.”

This simple response took her breath away. She swallowed.

“Well, I won’t let it end this way,” Alana vowed fiercely. Whether she was speaking of the women’s fate as prisoners or Tarak’s death in battle, she did not dare to acknowledge to herself. Both were scenarios too awful to contemplate. All she knew was that somehow, she had to find some solutions. And quickly.

Tarak rose to his feet. “Come. It is time to dress. We are required to be present at my father’s table and it would not be wise to keep him waiting too long.”

“How long do we have until you leave?”

“Not long enough, my Alana.” He held out his hand.

Alana grasped it firmly and tugged hard.

“Then we had better not waste any more of it, had we?” She grinned at him, her chin tilted in a challenge, Tarak was only too happy to accept.

Chapter Thirteen

It was close to midnight by Alana’s watch before they left the Royal hall after a long drawn out meal (thankfully containing several meat dishes). A meal she found to be both uncomfortable and interesting. Interesting in her certainty of the intrigue she sensed existed within those cold stone walls. Uncomfortable with the cold glances Lord Rajan had bestowed upon her from time to time.

A shiver of warning crawled through her mind when she recalled those tense moments. It had been more than irritation at being kept waiting so long.

Again.

She grinned in the darkness. On the whole she had been relieved to finally leave although the ordeal had been lightened by an addition to the leader’s table of his brother, Tarak’s uncle, Lord Atolo.

Another interesting man, mused Alana while she walked with Tarak past the main entrance and clattered down the steps. Atolo obviously prided himself on his appearance. She had not missed how pristine white his tunic had been, the gold braid edging, how his carefully groomed long white hair was tied back from his face with a jewelled clip at the base of his neck. Precious stones sparkled and glinted, dazzling to the eye when he waved his
expressive hands whenever he spoke. He appeared to be a pleasant, genial man who displayed an open curiosity and genuine interest in Alana. He also appeared to have the talent of diverting his older brother’s prickly temper, and had smiled at Alana when he channelled the conversation onto more pleasant topics.

Tarak’s lack of response to his uncle puzzled her. Alana was sure he viewed the older man with a measure of distaste.

As she walked with Tarak along the wide empty street towards the building where the other women were quartered, she worried over the complexities of the politics of his family. She had gained the distinct impression her presence threatened Lord Rajan. She frowned. Did he think she would somehow sway his son from doing his duty?

Surely not.

A soldier herself, she saw only too clearly how limited Tarak’s options were in this war.

As the only surviving son of a leader of an entire race, his duty and responsibilities could not be taken lightly. If there was one thing she was sure of, it was Tarak’s sense of responsibility to his people.

He would not walk away from his duty.

His father could have no doubts about his son’s loyalty.

The snarky, sarcastic comments Lord Rajan had thrown at his son every now and then, which Tarak ignored, had startled her. Why was the leader so resentful? Of course, his motivation could be nothing more sinister than bitterness at having lost his wife and other children, perhaps even a favourite son, to the long war.

Her thoughts swivelled back to Lord Atolo. Could he be the one plotting against his king? Did his pleasant demeanour mask the face of a traitor? Buy why? What could he possibly win by betraying his family? From all accounts, the rest of the universe wanted the entire Darkon people obliterated. By betraying his people, he would be ruler of nothing and no one and no doubt would also lose his life.

She made a mental note to question Tarak about his reservations towards his uncle.

It annoyed her that Tarak had apparently accepted the grim future before him. Not that she could blame him.

She knew only too well, some orders came with a very high price.

If there was to be a far different outcome not just for Tarak and his people but also for her and her friends, it was going to be up to her to do something about it. She needed more information about the Darkon’s dark history. Perhaps the solution to everyone’s problems lay in the Darkon’s past?

Could she be jumping at shadows? Perhaps the tension here was only caused by a clash of personalities. And why the hell, was she so concerned? She had enough problems with looking after her band of women, so why heap more onto her overladen plate?

Alana shied away from the answer.

Tarak squeezed her hand. The warmth of his touch sent a glow of energy surging through her veins and muddled her thoughts.

These poor aliens just hadn’t realised what they were letting themselves in for when they had dragged Earth women into this mess they had created.

She snorted.
Typical males
.

And as usual, it was going to be up to the women to clean up after them.

The most pressing need was to take some time out and relax. As soon as Tarak left, she would forge ahead with her investigations. She would make her plans. There was no way she was going to sit tight here, wait for some ghastly fate to come knocking at her door.

Somehow she would find a way off this planet for her and the other women. And somehow, perhaps, she could find a way to save Tarak.

She swallowed over a suddenly dry throat and snuggled closer to his side, smiling when he tightened his grip about her waist possessively. Through the dim light she discerned the building which housed the women’s quarters. Multi coloured lights flickered on and off through the narrow windows.

“What is that noise?” Tarak asked. He stopped dead in the street to listen.

Alana shook off her sombre mood and laughed. “That is no noise! That, my friend, is music. I am taking you to what I believe is going to be your first dance.”

Tarak grumbled. “I do not know of this dance thing. I would prefer to be alone with you. My body craves yours, now!”

He pulled her into his embrace. His lips sought hers with urgent passion. Her bones liquefied under his persuasive touch, her passion ignited.

“See?” His voice a deep rumble against the line of her neck, he licked lightly around her ear. “You wish this too. Forget this dance. We will return to my quarters.”

Breathless, Alana managed to wriggle some space between their bodies. She placed her hands either side of his intent face. “You will enjoy this dance thing. Trust me.”

“I do trust you, my Alana,” he said seriously.

Alana’s heart contracted. She blinked and planted an ardent kiss on his lips.
What am I going to do with him?
“Come on.” Her voice shook with emotion. “We’re going to have some fun.”

She took him by the hand and laughing, led him through the streets. Together they flung open the doors of the many storied building. Alana watched his reaction as he took in the scene in front of him. She chuckled at his bemusement, the wince of pseudo horror when a particularly loud blast of sound slammed against their ear drums.

“This is not fun. I cannot think with this noise.”

Alana hid her amusement at the sulky tone in his voice. He sounded like a grumpy little boy.

“You’re not supposed to think, Tarak.” Alana tugged his reluctant body further inside. “This way.”

In the intervening hours since she had last seen her friends, they had been very busy. The entire ground floor of the building had been transformed into a large dance floor. Through the swirling, colourful lights, Alana saw a podium had been erected in the centre of the room, and on the podium jumping around and waving their hands in the air to the energetic beat were Elise and Norman. Around the podium the women danced with exuberance, some of them hollering at the top of their lungs along with the song.

The walls vibrated with their energy. Alana had no idea how Norman had managed to transpose the music from the women’s personal compu’s onto some kind of sound system but the effect was awesome, even though the music warbled a bit now and then.

This was just what they needed. A real shot in the arm.

Satisfaction sat happy and sated in her gut.

The women were enjoying themselves immensely. She rolled her eyes at the cautious expressions on the Darkon males leaning against the walls as they watched the happy antics of the women. Time to get everyone involved. She waved with enthusiasm in response to Elise’s eager beckoning hands.

With a firm grip on Tarak’s arm, she tugged him into the midst of the dancing women, chuckling at the look of dawning horror on his face. She whirled round and faced him and gripped both his arms to stop him from escaping.

Alana rose on tiptoe and shouted into his ear, “Look around you Tarak. You need to lead by example and show your men how to have a good time.”

“Aaargh!” Tarak rolled his eyes and groaned but he stayed, his gaze seemingly riveted to her face. She grinned, her heart as light as a moonbeam.

The music changed to a heavy metal beat that vibrated through the floor and Tarak frowned. He leaned close to Alana and bellowed, “This is your war cry, yes?”

Laughing, Alana shook her head in denial. Placing her hands on his hips, she moved him in time to the beat in an awkward parody of some kind of rhythm. When he shuffled about in his combat boots, she giggled with delight.

”Isn’t this fantastic?” yelled Jessamine as she boogied around Tarak, who looked uneasy and sidestepped away when she jumped up and down waving her hands in the air.

Alana jerked her head towards the warriors lining the walls and Jessamine gave a mock salute and hustled off the dance floor. On her way through the dancing women, she towed Tina and a few other women along in her wake. Alana watched amused as her friends bullied their respective men onto the floor and soon the Darkon warriors were participating with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Their attitude changed very rapidly however, when the music changed to a slow, dreamy, love song and the women pulled the men into their arms.

“This music I could like,” Tarak murmured, his voice rich with the promise of the pleasure to come as he clasped Alana close to his chest and she could only agree as his warmth enfolded her.

On the whole, the dance had been a resounding success. Tarak had enjoyed himself and they had had fun together.

Something Alana recalled now with a sense of wonder.

The afterglow from a bout of urgent love-making was beginning to dissipate and she sensed the cool distrait widening between them. Already questions and doubt were clamouring to be heard. She shivered under the thin cover as she watched Tarak methodically don his protective armour. When preparing for battle, Alana knew from her hard won experience how important it was to distant oneself from all emotion and draw deep inside for fortitude. For the first time though, she was the one being left behind to wait while another went off to war.