Legend Beyond The Stars Page 20

  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.

  The thought didn’t sit well with her.

  She grimaced and shifted restlessly on the bed, aware of Tarak’s quick glance before he continued his task. Alana kicked off the cover and stomped to the cleansing tube after which she dressed with quick efficiency in her cargo pants and tee shirt. Running her hand down her thigh she wondered how much longer her clothes would last with the constant wear and cleansing. Once they were reduced to rags, all she would have left to remind her of home would be her watch and personal compu phone.

  She fought her sadness and spun round on her heel to find Tarak leaning back against the wall, surveying her with arms folded.

  “We still have matters to discuss,” said Tarak in his deep voice.

  Alana resisted the urge to squirm at the penetrating look in his eyes and tilted her chin. The slow burn of temper flickered as she recalled her many unanswered questions and the precariousness of their situation. Somehow the first words out of her mouth though, had nothing to do with the other women.

  “Oh yes? What matter could that be, I wonder? Perhaps it’s that little pesky matter of you kidnapping us and then dumping us in the bowels of some planet while you run off to save the universe. Oh no, I bet it’s that other little matter of you waving your royal hand and magically we will no longer be slaves.”

  The Commander snorted. “If you will be serious for one secton.”

  ”Trust me I am being serious,” Alana hissed through her teeth. She tapped her chest with a pointed finger. “Listen carefully, Tarak. I am a soldier, an independent woman and a free citizen. And I do not care to be used.”

  “What is this used?” Tarak spread his hands wide in bewilderment causing Alana to whirl around and present him with her back.

  Now she faced the harsh reality of the total difference between his culture and his thought processes, which were so foreign to Alana’s. She sighed, feeling suddenly very tired. The warmth from his body eased her chilled flesh as he pressed against her back and closed his hands over her shoulders. His breath whispered through the tendrils of her hair and memories of the previous hours flooded through her mind. Her throat tightened, swelling with tears she did not dare to shed.

  “I do not wish to part this way, my Alana. Come speak with me of why you are so angry and sad. Are you ill? I have not forgotten your cry of distress when we first arrived o
n Cerciron. Perhaps you have pains? I will send for the medic.” He rested his chin against the top of her head and smoothed her belly with gentle strokes.

  “No, I’m fine,” she choked out and tightened her grip on his hand digging deep into his skin. How could she explain?

  “Your safety and well-being is important to me, my slave. I will arrange for the medic to analyse you.”

  Alana struggled with herself, before capitulating. “Very well. I will have Norman check me out. But it’s not the problem. For one thing it’s our status here. As you keep on reminding me, we are only lowly slaves. We need to be free to leave whenever we please and go wherever we choose.”

  I need you to see me as your equal.

  “Aaaah.” Tarak released her and strode over to inspect his boots, checking for damage.

  She eyed him narrowly.

  “As my slave, Alana, you have a high status. You also have my protection.”

  “Your protection is not going to do us much good, with you and your mates on the other side of the universe waging war!”

  “You are incorrect. Should our mission fail and we do not return, my word will still hold true. I am the next Darkon Warlord, leader of my people. It grieves me you do not trust me.” His dark eyes met and held her gaze.

  Through trembling lips, she whispered, “I do trust you. That’s the problem and it’s not the problem.” She chewed her lip for two beats. “I trust you but I don’t want to trust you in case you let me down.”

  Damn it.

  As soon as the words left her mouth, she could have bitten her tongue. His sharp gaze considered her. She braced herself.

  “Someone has betrayed your trust. Who?”

  Alana shrugged evasively. “Just some bloke.”

  ”Bloke?” Perplexity furrowed his brow.

  “A man, okay.” She shivered at the sudden anger which darkened his face and added hastily, “It was a long time ago.”

  “Tell me!”

  “I was very young, met a man, thought I loved him and found out it was all a lie. He had been pretending to care for me so he could worm his way up the ladder in my step-father’s business. It was about money. Not me. Money was all he cared about. Money and power.”

  Tarak turned his face away from her. She eyed his stiff back wondering what he was thinking about. “You cared for him and he hurt you.”

  “Yes,” Alana said. He turned his head, his gaze intent on her face. Heat mounted over her cheeks.

  “And …?”

  “There is no ‘and’!” she muttered.

  His brows rose and his eyes were steady. “My Alana, tell me. I can feel your pain here.” He pointed to his chest.

  The familiar piercing stab of sorrow caused her eyes to fill. She blinked to dispel the moisture. “I got pregnant. My baby died.”

  Before she had finished speaking, she found herself wrapped tightly in his embrace. He had moved so fast, she had no time to step away nor did she want to. For the moment, she gave into her need to wallow in the comfort she found in his arms. If only she could stay there forever. He said nothing, only held her as if he would never let her go.

  But Alana knew this particular fantasy could never come true.

  He was going off to war.

  She would be going off to search for a way home.

  After a few moments of pure bliss, she pushed him away. The loss of his arms around her left her feeling bereft.

  She could not interpret his expression. That he was containing some violent emotion she could tell by the rigid set of his shoulders.

  He turned back to his boots.

  Taking a shaky breath, Alana turned back to her constant worry. “And it’s not just me, there are the other women who are depending on me to see them safe. What will we do, if we trust to your word and it fails?”

  “It will not fail,” Tarak growled, annoyance creased a frown in his forehead. He tugged at his boot and yanked it over one foot.

  “Ok. Try this scenario on for size. I trust you and you return, and presto you decide you have no need for me as your slave. What happens then?”

  Tarak glared at his other boot and mumbled, “This will not happen.”

  Alana snorted. “Hah! You told me you are the next in line for Head Honcho around here and as such I would expect you would have to make some advantageous connection with marriage.”

  “Marriage?”

  “You know, a legal partner for life.”

  “This is true.” He sighed. “Should I return, my father has arranged for a union with the High Chancellor’s daughter.”

  The tiny kernel of hope for happy-ever-after she kept hidden close and deep within shattered. Her heart ached from an agony so great she struggled to keep the shock from her face. Swallowing hard, Alana shoved her clenched hands into her pockets. “Well then. That settles it. You must give us our freedom now. I’m certainly not going to wait around to be evicted by the bride and if you think I’ll be a party to an affair once you’re married, forget it.” Her voice rose to a near shout.

  His brows had drawn together into a heavy frown and she guessed he was translating her words. And thinking of how to evade giving an honest answer?

  The insidious thought snuck into her mind.

  “My words were, ‘my father has arranged it’. It does not have my sanction.”

  “Hey I know you mate. Duty and honour are your bywords. If you had to save your people you would do it, wouldn’t you, Tarak?”

  His gaze evaded hers.

  ”There you go then.” Bitterness laced her voice. “I also have to save my people. My duty is to see these women safely home again.”

  “Enough!” Tarak surged to his feet, his visage black with anger. Face implacable, his stare bored through her. “My duty is also to see to your safety and protection. This you shall have. Here. In my home. Such as it is,” he added.

  He marched to the doorway and Alana raced after him. She placed a restraining hand on his arm, halting him.

  “And what if we aren’t safe here? There’s something wrong here Tarak. I can smell it.”

  The Commander ground his jaw and he gritted out, “All you can smell is the stench of a dying race.”

  Shocked, Alana’s hand fell away from his arm and using this advantage, Tarak left her.

  A few hours later, Alana with Jessamine and the other women stood silent behind the safety of the blast windows and watched the shuttles, one after the other, roar down the runway and launch into the cloudless sky.

  “So that’s that,” Jessamine said flatly. She whisked out a handkerchief and blew her nose. “I’ve sure never said goodbye to anyone goin’ off to war before. It sucks.”

  Alana turned to her friend and noticed the tears glistening in her eyes. She linked arms and led her back towards the chutes, motioning for the women to follow. She recalled Tarak’s last hateful words and curiosity battled its way past her bleeding heart.

  ”You’re awfully quiet, Alana.”

  Alana admitted, “We had an argument before he left.”

  “Uh huh?”

  Alana grimaced. “This one was fairly intense. I demanded he declare we were free to leave whenever we wished to.”

  “Mmmm. I’m guessin’ he didn’t take to your suggestion.”

  “No. He made so much fuss. Ranting and raving about us being slaves, under his protection, nothing would happen to us blah, blah, blah. All the usual macho stuff,” Alana said through her teeth.

  In fact, she had wasted a good length of time after he had left, marching up and down the room, fuming and struggling with tears she refused to shed. It had taken all the strength of will she could summon not to call him back.

  Alana had waited, her emotions a riot of conflict, hoping he would return, knowing he would not as he would be knee-deep in planning for his mission.

  When Jessamine had suggested they watch the departure of the warriors she had agreed and ensured her demeanour was one of casual indifference. She had stood prominently at
the front of their group and hoped he had noticed his leaving meant little to her. Prior to entering the shuttle, Tarak had turned and stared for a long time at the viewing platform.

  She had even managed a little finger wave and a cheerful smile as additional effects.

  Even from such a distance, she saw his irritation as he stomped into the shuttle.

  “They sure do have a bee in their bonnet ‘bout this slave business.”

  “Yeah.” Alana punched code into the chute control panel.

  The doors opened and they crowded inside the small space. She remained silent as they hurtled towards the belly of the planet, concentrating on her queasy stomach and whirling head. When they reached the lowest level she all but fell out of the capsule.

  Jessamine steadied her. “Now what do we do?”

  “Simple. We stick with the plan.”

  “So we’re still goin’ ahead with it?” Jessamine inspected her fingernails.

  Alana glared at her friend. “Why, have you changed your mind?”

  “Absolutely not. We have no real choice but to try to get home. I just really wish they were from my part of town, you know?”

  “I know. But you need to keep reminding yourself they only consider us as slaves. They don’t believe we are equal in status to them.” Alana paused and then added, “And this is also not our home.”

  “Home. I know it’s only been ‘bout three months or so, but it’s beginnin’ to feel like such a long time since I was home.”

  “Jess, that’s because so much has happened. Come on we need to keep on track here. My intention is to be off this planet and far away from here before they return.”

  “That’s if they return,” Jessamine said.

  Alana’s lips tightened as her blind stare zeroed into the distance.

  Don’t go there; it’s out of your control.

  “With war that’s always possible. It’s also why we can’t rely on them returning. If they do come back, what guarantee do we have they will continue to look after us? None. No we need to be totally self-sufficient. Plus, this place gives me the creeps. We need to get off this rock ASAP.”