Legend Beyond The Stars Page 27

  The warmth engendered by his friend’s unconditional support eased the burden of the role he would soon play. Whatever the future held, Tarak knew he had never been more proud of his friend and his men at their decision to join him on the hazardous journey ahead.

  Their strategy needed to be assessed and decided upon and soon but first he needed to check on his brother. He frowned. He refused to dwell on his recent encounter with Alana. Tarak rolled his tense shoulders. “Any update on Lord Dion’s status?”

  One of the officers shook his head. “No, Commander. Last intel, Lord Dion was still in the medie chamber.”

  “First Officer Magar, you have the bridge. I will be with my brother if needed.”

  His long strides made quick work along the corridors of his ship. He responded absently to the salutations of his men as he passed. He longed with a fierce desperation that made a mockery of his pretended indifference to go to his Alana and take her into his arms. Everything seemed much simpler when he held her close.

  The world faded away. His duty, his responsibilities, this nightmare world they inhabited, it all faded to nothing. It was more than the intense pleasure he experienced with her touch, it was the rightness of being by her side. The bleak emptiness existing in his spirit would be filled with the warmth of her presence.

  With the peace and hope she alone could give him.

  His mouth twisted.

  The overwhelming relief which had flooded him when he found her unharmed had left him lightheaded only to have his euphoria savaged by the missile of accusations Alana flung at him. His feeling of betrayal abated as his cool logical brain overrode his confused emotions. He understood only too well why his passionate Alana had reacted as she had given the events in her past. If he had been as open with her as she, than perhaps he could have averted their terrible experience on Isla. No, he did not blame her for her hasty words.

  He was the one to blame.

  What had possessed him to lose control in such a way?

  A Darkon warrior never allowed emotion to rule. Always logic and control were their byword. Never in his life had he experienced such depth of feeling his Alana evoked inside of him. But if there was one thing he was certain of in this world of madness he inhabited—her life, her well-being surpassed all other matters of importance.

  With slow deliberation, he uncurled his fisted fingers. He doubted she would welcome him after their last encounter. And why should she? Did he not leave her behind, to face danger alone? He had known both his father and his uncle were actively involved. He had known of the research. The fact he had not realised the full extent of such experiments did not absolve him of his culpability. In his arrogance and pride he had fooled himself into thinking his family would not betray his trust.

  His obstinacy could have cost Alana her life.

  The burden of guilt lay as heavy as asteroid rocks in his gut. By the hem of Cercis’ cloak! If he had only listened to his inner voice. Gone with his gut feelings and turned his back on the age old Darkon traditions. He should have treated her as his equal, told her of his suspicions, found a solution together instead of bowing under the pressure of his royal responsibilities.

  His stride lengthened as he stalked the corridor, ignoring the murmured greetings of his men as he passed. He had been weak, he admitted. And then to lash out in his confusion and pain to say such words to her. As if he could ever do such a thing and there could be no doubt she had accepted his words at their value. Would she realise he had spoken out of horror, injured pride and self loathing? That still a fragment of loyalty bound him to defend his family’s actions? What must she think of him, knowing he came from such roots? Would she believe him when he told her he was not aware of the true extent of the research being undertaken?

  Perhaps it would be better to let matters stand as they were now. The indignities the women had suffered, she had suffered, could not be erased.

  Round and round his thoughts ran until with weary acceptance he came to the only conclusion.

  No, it was time to sever all connections with her.

  Somehow he would find the strength to leave her alone. Send her and the other women on their journey to locate their home planet. And he would rain down justice until the stench of the Darkon dishonour was washed away forever.

  He punched in his personal code and entered the Analysis Chamber which also housed the medie centre. On the threshold, he paused amazed to see not only the Darkon medics tending to the wounded but also the females.

  Winding his way through the rows of recovery bunks, he took his time to linger and speak words of encouragement to the occupants. He spoke to the medic in attendance, impressed with how these females ignored their problems and worked with such gentle determination. Truly, they were a superior race; worthy of alliance with the Darkon warriors.

  No they were superior to the Darkons.

  His brother lay in a medie tube immobilised by restraints. Grief stricken, Tarak stood and stared at Dion. There were so many tubes and wires attached to the battered body, Tarak could not count them all.

  “Must he be bound in such a way?” he asked his voice thick with emotion.

  Char, the chief healer shook his head. “The extent of Lord Dion’s damage is such, he must not move or he could cause even greater harm to himself. We must be gentle.”

  Tarak swallowed hard. “What is his status?”

  When the medic remained silent, Tarak fixed him with a commanding stare. Char still mute, moved out of earshot of the tube indicating to Tarak to follow. He obeyed. Here in this domain, Char ruled. Tarak’s hands clenched tight knowing by the expression on the healer’s face, the news would not be good.

  “Lord Tarak you must prepare yourself.”

  “I do not accept that. You must be able to do something.”

  The healer shook his head again in denial. His voice low, he said, “Spend what time you can spare with him. He drifts between our world and the next now. Perhaps he will hear you and it will give both of you ease. Excuse my leaving, Commander but my presence is required elsewhere.”

  Tarak nodded his acquiescence and the healer hurried off. Tarak’s surroundings faded away and he was back in the days of his boyhood. Back from military camp to where he had been sent when a few cycles old. Back to his father’s house on their glorious lost planet, Darkon. Back to where the Darkon suns shone warm upon the rich soil giving life and abundance to their race. Back to when his mother and sister were alive. When his little brother had raced out on unsteady legs, his baby face alight with excitement at Tarak’s return.

  As the heir apparent to the great guardian Darkon race, his time had been filled with duties, responsibilities, training; what little time he had free he had spent it with his mother, sister and brother. Much to his father’s disgust, deploring what he viewed as weakness. But Tarak had continued to visit them.

  Now memories were all he had left of his family.

  “Go and speak to him. Talk to him.” The familiar voice jerked him back from the past.

  Alana stood in front of him, her firm chin tilted upwards, her gaze steady.

  His Alana.

  A fierce need to possess her, to demand her unconditional surrender to him, to wipe her carefully contrived expression of indifference from her face rocked violently through his body. To lose himself in the heat of her body, to feel her slender and yet strong arms enfold him tight as they melded together in a passion, that even here stunned him with its depth. She could give him solace; take away the pain which ripped through him. As he gazed into her blue-green eyes, the temptation to sweep her into his arms and seek the privacy of his quarters tormented him.

  Tarak shuddered.

  No, he had made his decision. His need for her had already caused untold damage to her and the other women. With iron control, he banked the blazing fire in his blood. His legs heavy and clumsy, he forced himself to turn his back. Never had he experienced such agony. It roared through him, leaving desolation and a despairin
g acceptance in its wake.

  He focussed on the still form of his brother. With infinite tenderness, he clasped Dion’s fingers, noting the absence of nails and the remnants of dried blood. He blanked his mind to the images of torture visited upon his younger brother.

  In a strained voice, he spoke of when he and Dion had stolen a flyer and taken off to the planet Mirus in order to view for themselves the marvels of a water planet, to experience the exhilarating danger of boating off the cascades. When they had gone to see the fiery pits of Zersk where they had fought off the coda worms together. He spoke of their mother and sister.

  And all the time he spoke, her presence just out of his reach gave him immeasurable comfort.

  Something nudged his arm and he saw the container of water she held towards him. She stood close enough now for her to see inside the medie tube.

  ”Drink,” she said in gruff tones.

  Tarak nodded his thanks and took the offering. He chugged the liquid, the coolness a balm for his scratchy throat.

  “I’m sure he can hear you.”

  He grunted. He did not dare look at her.

  “Do you … do you know what he was doing on Isla?” Her voice sounded hesitant and stilted.

  So it was only the desire for information which kept her at his side. Tarak’s lips twisted. “No.” Even he could hear the coldness in his voice. But he must not soften. He would maintain his distance if it killed him.

  She responded with equal coldness, “No doubt you wouldn’t tell me even if you did know.”

  With difficulty, he resisted the urge to shake her till her bones rattled in her body. He would then have to smother that scornful mouth of hers with kisses until she had no breath left to berate him. His mind filled with forbidden images. When she suddenly clutched his arm, the jolt from her touch scorched all the way to his booted feet.

  “Tarak, look!” Her grip tightened. Excitement laced her voice. “Look, his eyes flickered. I think he’s waking up!”

  With eager swiftness Tarak returned his attention to his brother.

  Dion’s eyelids lifted, closed and lifted again.

  As Tarak watched, the confusion in his brother’s eyes cleared. His chest tightened as if metal restraints were squeezed hard around his heart.

  A delighted recognition flooded Dion’s face.

  Tarak seized Alana’s hand.

  “Is it really you, Tarak?” Dion’s voice sounded rusty and ill-used. In the weak tones Tarak heard the effort it cost his brother to speak. “Too long have I wanted to see you again.”

  “It is.” Tarak managed to return. “You are safe. You are here with me on the Ark.”

  “The Ark?” Dion murmured, then gasped. A spasm of pain rippled over his face.

  Tarak had never seen such weary eyes. “I am glad to see you, my brother.”

  A smile flittered over Dion’s gaunt face and Tarak’s heart contracted. Absorbed, his eyes fixed on his brother’s drawn features, he watched his brother’s gaze wander over what he could see of the medie tube, then back to him.

  Dion squinted as he registered the small figure at Tarak’s side. “This is your mate?”

  Tarak ignored the quick look Alana shot at him and before she could open her mouth to deny, he affirmed, “She is mine. She is called Alana.”

  “Alana,” repeated Dion. Yellow light flickered, a tiny candle of life in the depths of his eyes. “Yours. I knew that. She questions you. She has courage.”

  “Yes.”

  Dion’s eyes drifted shut.

  Tarak checked the data on the monitors, then relaxed. At his side Alana remained quiet and still, her fingers linked around his.

  “Tarak.”

  He winced and braced himself at the urgency in his brother’s voice.

  “I am here.”

  Those infinitely tired eyes opened to fasten on his face. “My life force is ebbing. No, do not deny it.” Dion licked his cracked lips. In a voice as thin and insubstantial as the mist on the lakes of Darkos, he continued. “I must speak while I can. The battle in the Ural sector. Wounded. My ship foundered, my warriors dead around me. Abandoned my ship.”

  Tarak waited in patience while his brother paused to regroup some strength. The decision to abandon a Darkon ship was never made easily, he could only guess at the guilt Dion had suffered at sundering his bio connection and leaving it to its fate.

  “Made it to moon of Mirus. Remember Mirus?”

  “I remember.” Tarak managed a short laugh.

  “Long time. Picked up. Two ships. Isla.” A shudder racked his frail body. Tarak kept one hand in a light clasp around his brother’s fingers, the other mangled Alana’s hand.

  “I know of Isla, brother. Atolo will pay for his crimes,” Tarak vowed. He ignored Alana’s start of surprise.

  ”Aaaah. Betrayed us. Betrayed all of us. Said we were no use as warriors. This was our duty.” Dion’s lips trembled as he stared up into his brother’s face. His fingers twitched beneath Tarak’s hold. “Decreed by royal command.”

  “What?” Tarak’s mouth formed the word but no sound emerged.

  “He knew, Tarak. He signed over our bodies. We still lived.” Dion’s voice rose in bewilderment.

  Tarak could not speak, held transfixed by the rage roaring in his brain. He met his young brother’s gaze; read the agony of betrayal in their depths.

  “He killed us. Our father. Yours and mine …”

  * * *

  Chapter Eighteen

  The star deck observation cube jutted out from the very outer edge of the Ark. Made entirely from reinforced blast proof flexiglass, it provided a three hundred and sixty degree view of the surrounding space.

  It was here Alana found Tarak.

  He stood, his armoured hands loose by his side, feet braced apart, staring out at the vista of darkness towards the brilliant swirls of space dust that partially obscured a massive planet the Ark was passing. Alana stepped with caution out onto the platform. It was like walking on nothingness, she thought as she approached him. She saw by the slight tensing of his armoured shoulders, he had registered her presence.

  Following the revelations by his brother, Tarak had reeled out of the Analysis Chamber a broken man. Or a man on the very edge of losing himself in a maelstrom of bitter destructive emotion. She had seen his face as he had brushed past her.

  Alana had remained behind only long enough to wave Tina over and ask her to stay by Dion’s side, before she had gone in search of him.

  It wasn’t as if she wanted to give him comfort she thought as she had stomped along the corridor, her footsteps heavy with anxiety. No, she was after information. That’s all it was—nothing to do with this terrible driving need to seek his company. She absolutely would not give in to the urge to hold him close, to breathe in his unique scent, to kiss him back to life. That way laid folly. Heartbreak. She had to focus on her mission it was the only thing holding her together.

  And dammed, if she didn’t want some answers!

  She was sick to death of men hiding their secrets from her, whether out of personal ambition or out of a desire to protect her. She didn’t need protecting—she was a soldier, a mature woman—not someone’s pampered poodle.

  Alana reached his side. Their eyes met in the reflection of their images on the flexiglass. Despite all her good intentions, she could not hold back an inner tremor nor stem the warming of her blood as his narrowed gaze swept her reflected image. Tarak maintained his silence and she resisted the urge to shuffle her feet.

  He was good at this. She could imagine how easily he could break a prisoner by his fierce aura alone. She gripped her hands tightly behind her back and stood at ease.

  Her chin lifted.

  His sombre expression lightened.

  Her lips twitched in response.

  She wanted to roll her eyes in exasperation. She wanted to throw her arms around his neck.

  Damn it!

  She didn’t want it to end like this—he on one side and her on th
e other. She wanted to scream with denial over the hand life had dealt her.

  Alana scowled. He quirked his heavy black brows in query.

  “We need to talk.” The words came out loud with accusation.

  He remained silent.

  She hastened into speech and softened her tone. “I mean, why didn’t you tell me what had happened to your people?”

  He shrugged and sighed. “I did not think it important. A Darkon warlord does not explain to a slave.”

  Alana struggled to speak over the sharp pain in her heart. Eventually, she managed, “I see.”

  Blindly, she turned away to leave. He reached out and gripped her arms and turned her back to face him. She kept her eyes fixed on his armoured chest as he gave her a little shake.

  “Alana, look at me.”

  She raised her eyes to his, aware he would read the world of hurt swimming in their depths. He loosened his punishing grip and raised his hand to cup her chin. Warmth and life radiated out from where his fingers touched her skin with tenderness. She could see the strange yellow flame burning so bright in his intense, obsidian eyes.

  His lips curved. His breath feathered over her upturned face when he spoke in the deep rumbling voice she loved so much. “We both know you are no slave.”

  Heat scorched her cheeks. She was drowning in a sea of sensation as she stared at him.

  “To speak of such matters to his female is not the Darkon way. Always the warriors have been the protectors of our race and others. We do not seek assistance, nor do we seek comfort—that is weak. Not the way of a true Darkon warrior. Not the way of the next Darkon ruler.”

  Alana opened her mouth to argue.

  He tapped her lips with his fingers. “That was part of the old traditions. One of many I had hoped to change.”

  There was weariness etched deep into his visage. Without thinking, Alana reached up and cradled his face. She stood on tippy toe and pressed her mouth against his in a gentle kiss. In an instant, his arms swept around her, pulling her against his hard body, their weight warm and heavy against her back. Alana revelled in the feeling of safety his embrace gave her. His chin rested on her head and he nuzzled her hair. The thought entered her head she was where she wanted to be, where she belonged. She tried to push it away but it didn’t budge.