DarkRevenge (30 page)

God, she’d missed her planet.

“Please identify yourself,” a voice droned through the
system’s speakers.

Tory glanced her way and smiled. She answered, “This is
Commander Alexandra Zeerah requesting permission to land. I am here for the
Shoshoni.”

She noted Tory’s hand tightened on the console. Gregor had
demanded Alex’s head, but was he still in power?

“We had reports that you were dead, Commander,” the man
said. “May I just say, I’m happy they were in error.”

“Thank you.”

Of course, it wasn’t that easy. The tower demanded proof of
identity and the identities of her crew. Tory’s presence hadn’t even rattled
the tower. They seemed thrilled that Alex and Tory were back on Teran One.

Cleared to land, all the official rigmarole finished, the
time to face what lay outside the shuttle doors had come.

They landed at the huge space port near the city and the
tension in the ship increased. All of them knew they might step off that
shuttle into a fight. Or not.

Jezar had no insights into their situation. When Alex shot
him a questioning look, he shook his head. He read nothing out of the ordinary
out there. She shrugged. Not much they could do. Just walk out and do what they
came to do.

Pulzer, groggy and grumpy, was now awake and glaring at the
rest of the crew.

Jezar’s response was hard and mean. “You feel me, Pulzer?
I’ll know. The minute you think about running, calling out, betraying us, I’ll
know. And it would be my pleasure to run a laser through your heart.”

The cold menace in Jezar’s voice made Alex shiver and Pulzer
turned pasty white, the glare wiped away. Jezar stepped back and Pulzer stepped
toward the door. To do so, he brushed past Tesia, who tensed and recoiled.
Pulzer’s attention focused on her, a sneer on his face.

Jezar moved so fast in the small confines of the shuttle
Alex barely had time to gasp before the man’s hand connected with Pulzer’s
kidney.

Pulzer doubled over, a gasping, retching sound escaping him.
Jezar towered over him, his green eyes blazing with fire. “Every thought. She
is worth a million of you. You allow even one more thought about her and I’ll
kill you, mission or no mission.”

The man couldn’t even talk, but Pulzer managed a nod. Alex
glanced at Tesia. She stared at Jezar, her expression troubled and awed.

Foche blinked and stared at Tesia. Poor Foche. He didn’t
stand a chance when it came to stature against the Ardasian, though Foche
towered over Jezar by about two inches. She wondered what Foche thought about
the whole thing. He struck her as a man on a mission to die. It wasn’t the
first time she’d seen that. There was a fanatical light on the faces of men who
had decided to die on a mission. It had never been something she trusted.

“Let’s go. We’re running out of time.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

The last time Tory had been on Teran One, he had managed to
slip unnoticed and undetected onto a cargo ship going planetside. This time, he
was arriving with one of the premier heroes of Teran One society, Commander
Alexandra Zeerah.

He’d seen the news vids streamed to him before they’d
landed. The people had thought she was dead and rejoiced that she lived. He
knew his mate was revered on her home planet. And why not? She was brave,
beautiful and intelligent—a fine example of good breeding. A huge swarm of
people waited in the shuttle bay, ostensibly to get a glimpse of the woman
everyone thought was dead. He rolled his shoulders and that old feeling of not
being good enough came over him.

A warm hand clasped his shoulder and he glanced down to find
those loving golden eyes focused on him. To his surprise, she rose on her
tiptoes and kissed him in front of everyone in the crowded shuttle bay. It was
just a brush of her lips, but it was a statement to the crowd. She claimed him.
He was hers and she was his.

He wrapped his arm around her waist and slid her into his
arms. No light, airy kisses were going to satisfy him at the moment. He leaned
down and captured her mouth with his, a dominant possession. Her surrender only
heightened his need and he forgot the crowds, forgot the mission, forgot
everything but the feel of his
Saria
in his arms.

Later, my love. We have to concentrate
.
Though
Alex sent him the thought, he felt her rising excitement, her pride, her love.
It made it difficult to pull away.

Tesia’s poke in his shoulder worked better. “Do you suppose
you two could save it for later?” she hissed.

Slowly, savoring every last moment, Tory ended the kiss.
Still, he cupped her face, well aware that what lay ahead may make these their
last tender moments together.

Together, they turned toward the crowd. Vid news crews
swarmed them and asked them questions. Alex put on her irresistible charm and
answered every one of them. Some of them were insulting, a deliberate attempt
of the ruling party to discredit her.

“Commander, is it true that you stole a Teran One weapon?”
one man asked her, his vid camera rolling.

Alexandra gazed at them all directly. “Of course not. And I’m
sure when the details are declassified, I will be exonerated of any accusations
of wrongdoing.”

Damn. He wished he could carry that ringing conviction in
his tone the way she did. One good thing about Alex—her reputation on Teran One
was impeccable. What she said carried weight with the population, a
miscalculation on the part of Gregor. He believed rumor was all that was needed
to destroy her. He was wrong.

His Alexandra was a very popular figure. Even Teran Two
loved her for her humanitarian missions. She stood for freedom, integrity and
love of one’s planet, and the people knew it. Gregor had played into Ena’s
hands.

“Is it true you’ve mated to a known criminal?” another vid
reporter asked. Tory took a deep breath. They knew it would be like this, anticipated
it. While the furor raged around the very popular Commander Zeerah, Jezar,
Pulzer and the other two were slipping away to a predetermined location.

“Commander Tory Ingle is my
Sarat
. His
Saria
claim was established by a Judge of Light. I have seen the evidence. He was
innocent of the charge leveled against him.” Again, Alex had such a determined
tone it swept away doubt. Tory wondered how she did it. Her demeanor dispelled
doubts and inspired confidence. Come to think of it, she’d always been that way.

“Commander Ingle, will you seek damages for the five years
you spent in exile?” a female vid reporter asked him and batted her lashes at
him.

“I have no need of seeking revenge.” He held Alex’s hand and
she squeezed it. “The contract is enough for me.”

Liar!
She sent the thought and chuckled in his head.
Suddenly, several naughty visions cascaded from her mind to hers. He almost
groaned out loud. She was evil, just evil.

They eventually made it through the crowd somehow and caught
a hovertaxi. Alex gave an address he didn’t recognize to the driver. Of course,
he wasn’t all that familiar with Saladen. The city had never been a desirable
destination for him. Too big, too crowded and too political. He preferred to
visit his home island when he was planetside.

“Where are we going?”

“I want my official dress uniform.”

Tory knew what that meant and where they were going. A small
shop on the Main Palisade carried dress uniforms for all the Teran One
Commanders. He’d heard of it. Once, he’d been told they carried one for him
too, but he’d never gone there to retrieve it.

For a brief moment, he regretted the lost time, the lost
prestige. Then he glanced at Alex and the regret disappeared. Without those
five years of separation, he doubted his mate would have become his
Saria
.
Perhaps, as Jezar implied, they never would have mated at all, but died in a
senseless bloodline genocide not many knew was happening. No, he wouldn’t trade
all the prestige, the ease of Teran One life, for his mate.

They reached the shop and Alex strode in as if she’d never
been off planet, never mated to a known criminal, never fired on Teran One
fighters. The proprietor deferred to her. “Commander Zeerah! What a pleasure to
see you again.”

“And you, Isler. I would like one of my dress uniforms
please.”

“Yes, Commander.” Isler shot a look at Tory. “And your
mate?”

“Would you like to wear the uniform again, Tory?” she asked
him. “It’s your right, but I could understand why you wouldn’t.”

And she did understand. His bitterness, his pain, about his
exile still throbbed inside him. She touched it gently with her mind, stroked
it really.
You have every right to reject them as they rejected and hounded
you, my love. Your call.

Tory had worn the Teran One uniform with pride five years
earlier. Would it mean the same now? “I will wear the uniform.” He glanced at
Isler. “Do you have one in my size?”

“Your size?” Isler, a dark man with heavy black brows that
rose in surprise now, brought out a black commander’s uniform. “I have yours,
Commander Ingle. If there are any alterations to be done, I can do them now.”

Tory fingered the uniform. All his ribbons, his Starburst
pins, were on the collar. It was as if another man, the man he once was, stood
in front of him. He nodded to Isler. “Thank you. I will wear this.”

It was odd. The uniform didn’t fit, but had to be widened in
the shoulders and narrowed at the waist. Isler disappeared in the back of the
shop and returned quickly, the alterations done. Tory shrugged into the
uniform, now fitted to him. He’d grown stronger, harder, in those five years
since he’d worn this type of garment. It felt like he’d put on another skin,
another life with the uniform.

But it seemed appropriate that he would wear the uniform of
the planet he’d come to save, a planet that rejected him, exiled him.

He stared in the mirror and had double vision for a moment.
There, a young man, reckless, barely serious, fought because fighting was
something he was good at, not because he believed in Teran One. There also, the
wanderer, a philanderer, floated through life taking for granted all the things
handed to him.

Behind him, Alex appeared in a matching uniform with a red
sash around her waist indicating promotion, something added after he’d been
exiled, no doubt. But she clarified how that young man had become the man he
was now. She had given him something to fight for then and she gave him more to
fight for now. Without her, he wouldn’t have been anything and he wouldn’t have
worn this uniform with any pride.

The years without her had been long, but had taught him
about gratitude, honor and death. His chin rose and the young idiot of five
years ago faded away replaced by the man he’d become, a man who deserved the
woman by his side.

The glow in her eyes spoke of pride and something hotter
that made him wish they weren’t pressed for time. “Like it?” he asked her
casually.

She smiled slowly, a wicked lift of her lips that sent
electricity through him, and his hands flexed, itching to grab her and kiss
her.

Her smile became a grin and he rolled his eyes. Isler handed
him another item he’d forgotten about. His family crest.

Worn as a belt, the Ingle crest of a comet with a blazing
tail seemed to speak of his journey from a Teran One soldier to a space
mercenary and back again.

Alex’s crest, a Zeetah, glared from her waist. It had always
fascinated him that the lithe, cat-like mammal had the same golden eyes as his
mate. It was as if the very things that made the Zeetah admirable—speed,
cunning, agility—were embodied in his mate.

“Shall we go and take our place?” She tucked her hand in the
crook of his arm.

He covered her hand with his. “It will be my honor.”

They turned toward the door and Isler bowed low to both of
them. “May the blessings of the
Saria
go with you on your journey.”

“Thank you, Isler.”

The man’s dark brown eyes were misty. “It is good that you
are home. Both of you.”

Isler whirled away and disappeared behind a curtain. Tory
stared after him. “What was that all about?”

Alex also gazed at the swaying curtain. “He’s a relative,
distantly connected to my family and Darius’ too. To him, Teran One’s survival
is paramount.” She glanced at him. “Somehow he knows we’ll save it.” She
shrugged. “Or we won’t.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “We will.”

The streets of Saladen were busy with Shoshani celebrators
milling in and out of the shops and restaurants. Tory kept a hand clasped in
hers as they wove through the crowds.

The gray sky cast a pall over the bright colors, but there
was still an energy, a tension in the air. It was as if the whole planet
anticipated what was going to happen.

They were only a block away from the Great Hall where the
First bloodlines were gathering when a man appeared suddenly from one of the
side streets. The stranger grabbed Alex and yanked her into the shadows of a
dark alley. Tory was close behind, his fists raised.

“Stop! I’m a friend. And you’ll need all the friends you can
get,” the man whispered.

“Get your hands off of her!” Tory demanded.

“Shut up, Commander.” The man’s gaze was on the street. Two
men, knives drawn, strode across the busy street, their family crest emblazoned
at their waist. The Gregor family was looking for someone.

When the two Gregor men had run past them, the man turned to
regard him with intense silver eyes that glowed in the shadows. He had no
family crest on his sash.

“There are those of us in the rebellion who don’t want Ena’s
plan to succeed,” he told them. Tory studied him. The way he gripped Alex’s arm
had a familiar look to it. Black Ops? No. He’d met several of the rebels, but this
man was a total stranger. The man’s face had a long, jagged scar down the side
of it and his hand was missing a pinky finger.