The Skypirate Part 18

"And what?" he prompted, suddenly equally wary.

"I...".

"You've already told me enough for them to execute you," he pointed out. "Don't stop now."

"It's not them I'm worried about."

She drew back the moment the words were out, as if she hadn't meant to say them.

Dax's jaw clenched. "If I'd wanted to execute you," he ground out, "I would have done it the moment I found out the truth."

"'It is not our custom to indiscriminately murder anyone who gets in our way?'" she quoted.

"It's not our custom to kill the messenger, either. What were you going to say, Califa?"

She hesitated, then warned him. "I heard it in the slave quarters on Carelia, before they threw me into the prison. I don't know if it's true, it was only rumor"

"I'd sooner trust the accuracy of the telerien than any official sources. Go on."

"They said the Triotians were succeeding. So well that Legion Command had decided to send General Corling back to Trios."

Dax went cold, barely having time to wonder at the iciness that swept him before it was replaced by the rus.h.i.+ng heat of rage.

Corling. The mastermind of the downfall and conquest of Trios. The vicious, brutal officer who had destroyed the world that had been the source of much of the goodness and beauty in an entire system. The man who had used deceit and treachery to slaughter a people who had welcomed him under a banner of peace. The man who had murdered a king. Who had thrown a queen to his barbarous, raping troops. And who had personally condemned a royal prince to the worst kind of slavery.

Dare. Dear G.o.d, if he had survived, if by some miracle he had gotten back to Trios, surely he was dead now. Corling would know now he should have killed Dare when he had the chance. From what Dax had heard of the man, he would have made the extermination of the last living member of the royal family his primary goal.

But could anyone except Dare have done this? Could anyone other than the brilliant, dauntless, audacious Dare, the man who had apparently survived five years of torment, degradation, and punishment and still managed to escape, could anyone less than the rightful king of Trios have accomplished this?

Dax shuddered under the pressure of his whirling thoughts. His head was beginning to pound viciously. His mind felt muddled, vague, but he realized he must be in reaction, with the last of the adrenaline of the battle fading, and the shock of what he'd learned battering him. Everything seemed a little distant, fuzzy around the edges, as it had after that piece of the fighter had clipped his temple.

He swayed on his feet. Califa reached for him, to steady him. He meant to wave her off, but had to admit that he needed the support.

"You'd better rest. I'll help you to your quarters," Califa said, her voice sounding soft and gentle in his ringing ears. As if she meant it, as if she cared that he was about to keel over.

Perhaps she did, he thought dazedly. She'd saved them, hadn't she? She'd warned them, reminding him of a long-forgotten flight school lecture, based on her own teachings, that had set out the course of action the Coalition s.h.i.+p would take. He tried to turn to look at her, but the floor seemed to be moving.

"Maybe you'd better just sit down." She sounded truly worried now. It made him feel good, that tone of concern. Which was silly. She was a Coalition officer. He hated her.

No, she was a slave. She'd been betrayed by the Coalition, too. She'd been punished enough, hadn't she? And she'd trusted him with that thing, the controller, which was like trusting him with...what? Her soul? So he didn't hate her. Did he? He felt his knees start to give way. He tried to stop it, but then he was falling. Sort of. Califa was there, helping him, softening the drop. He knew it was her, he could see the black of her hair, the blue of her eyes, although he wished she'd hold still so he could look at her.

Brave little snowfox. He liked to look at her.

"I'll go get Nelcar."

"No," he said, pleased that his tongue still worked. His hand wasn't as cooperative, though; it took a moment for him to find and grasp her hand. "Don't go."

She seemed to be staring at him, then at their joined hands. "Dax?" she whispered.

"Don't go," he repeated. "Stay with me."

He heard a sharp intake of breath. "I'm right here. I won't leave you."

She sounded confused. Why? he wondered. She had to know how he felt. He'd kissed her, hadn't he? After their song? Yes, he knew he had, he couldn't have imagined that fierce rush of hot sensation. How could you imagine something you'd never felt, never even known was possible? But he'd been angry with her, afterward. Very angry. Because she'd scared him. Or something had. Why? He couldn't seem to remember. If he couldn't remember, it couldn't be very important, could it?

He tried to tell her that, but his mouth didn't seem to want to work. So he squeezed her hand instead. When she squeezed back, satisfaction welled up inside him. He could rest now. He let the blackness come.

Califa felt oddly suspended. The crew treated her as they always had, which told her they didn't know the secret she had let slip with her own foolish tongue. Roxton, Nelcar, and Rina had clearly not informed the others. They were no doubt awaiting a decision from Dax. And Dax wasn't talking. To anyone, from what she could gather.

Nelcar had told her he was recovering, that the effects of the blow to the head, delayed by the adrenaline flow that had kept him going, had been alleviated after a full day's cycle of sleep. When she had asked about him, Nelcar had looked at her rather intently before he answered. She had supposed, because of his knowledge of her past, he was pondering whether to tell her anything. But then he had surprised her with his quiet words.

"He talked about you. While he was half conscious."

"He...did?"

Nelcar nodded. "He said your name and something like 'sings like an angel, can't be evil.'"

Califa's breath caught. Hope leapt up to lodge behind the lump in her throat that had stopped her breath, and the combination tightened her chest unbearably.

"Then he went under for good," Nelcar said. "Rina and I had to wake him every few hours, to make certain he hadn't slipped into a coma."

That explained the young man's obvious exhaustion. "But he's awake now?"

"He's awake, but he's not talking," Nelcar had said. "He won't say a word, to me or anyone, except to tell us to get out and leave him alone."

That conversation had been three days ago, and Dax still wasn't talking. Not to Roxton, or to any of the crew. Not even to Rina. He never left his quarters, and the s.h.i.+p seemed somehow empty without his vital presence. Califa caught herself looking up at every set of approaching footsteps, and scanning the lounge every time she entered. It was as if, she thought ruefully, she missed him. Eos, she thought, shaking her head at her foolishness, the man was half inclined to kill her, and she missed him.

But he had spoken of her. Even in pain, half delirious, he had been thinking of her. She tried to fight down the pleasure that thought gave her. She had too much else to think about.

Roxton had come to her, after he had helped to carry the unconscious Dax to his quarters. She had half expected him to accuse her of being responsible for Dax's state, but he had gruffly informed her Nelcar had told him it was a result only of his injury from the fight catching up with him.

He had also told her that she was to restrict herself to quarters and the lounge for meals until Dax regained consciousness and decided what to do about her. And until then, he had added grudgingly, her secret would be kept.

But that decision had never come, even when Dax had regained consciousness. He was still cloistered in his quarters, refusing to talk. His silence was weighing on them all, but most of all on Rina. In one day the girl had lost both her confidants; she wouldn't talk to Califa, and Dax wouldn't talk to her.

Califa sighed, trying to stop herself from beginning to once more pace the small quarters she still, to her surprise, shared with Rina. She'd expected to be moved, but Roxton must have decided that would raise too many questions. And apparently they trusted her with the girl; for that much, she supposed she should be thankful, although it was clear Rina hadn't made up her mind about Califa.

She lost the battle to stop her pacing. She was on her second circuit when the door opened. She turned, grateful for any distraction, only to retract the thought when she saw Roxton's glowering expression.

He came in without a word, waiting until the door slid shut behind him. Then he crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her.

"I want to know what happened on the observation deck."

Califa tensed. She'd been afraid of this. "What...happened?" she said, stalling.

"Something must have. What did you tell him that's got him holed up in there, ripping himself apart?"

She couldn't tell him. Dax had kept his birthplace a secret, even from Roxton, for years, and for good reason; she couldn't give him away.

"Nothing," she said.

Roxton swore pungently. "I've seen him, woman, and I've seen eyes less tortured on a corpse. He's on the edge of breaking. What did you talk about?"

Califa bit her lip. "I...The battle, mostly. And his fighter. He was fine, then he pa.s.sed out."

"Nothing else?"

He wasn't going to be satisfied, Califa realized. She would have to give him a little more. But she would not betray Dax's secret, not when he had kept her own.

"I did yell at him," she admitted.

Roxton blinked. "You what?"

"I yelled at him. For being so reckless. So careless with his life." She gave him a slightly wan smile. "He got very angry at me."

Roxton looked at her for a moment, a.s.sessingly. As if he hadn't expected such an admission from her. Was it that she admitted to her actions that puzzled the older man, or that she had cared enough to chastise Dax?

After a moment he sighed, and the crusty first mate disappeared, to be replaced with the grizzled old man who loved Dax like a son.

"Well, that's nothing I haven't done myself. I've never managed to make him angry, however. He merely laughs at me."

"Too bad he takes so little heed."

"Yes." He relaxed enough to uncross his arms. "I don't understand. I haven't seen Dax like this since I first picked him up on Clarion."

Califa lifted a brow quizzically. "You picked him up?"

Roxton nodded. "Found him in a taproom, pickled, trying to start a fight with three Omegans who outweighed him five times over."

Califa's mouth quirked. "Sounds like he hasn't changed much."

She won a slight smile from the man. "No, not much."

"You stopped the fight?"

Roxton snorted. "No one stops an Omegan who wants to fight. Just ask Hurcon. I merely distracted them until we could slip out the back."

She'd begun this as a distraction herself, but now she was too curious not to ask.

"Why did you step in, if you didn't know him?"

"I'm not sure. There was something about him..."

She certainly couldn't argue with that, Califa thought. Then Roxton's eyes narrowed as he looked at her.

"Perhaps I'd just had enough of bullies."

He said it pointedly, the allegory to the Coalition clear. Califa didn't bother to protest.

"And then?"

"After he sobered up, he was like this. Silent, refusing. to eat, even sleep, looking like something was chewing him up inside. Finally we talked. We found we both had nowhere to go, and no one left there anyway. Dax suggested we take something back from those who had left us that way."

"And so you became skypirates."

"Yes." His mouth twisted into a wry smile as he tugged on his beard. "But I almost killed him, first."

"After saving him?"

"I was angry. No," Roxton corrected, "I was furious. He took every coin, all the funds we had and risked it on a single toss in chaser. And an honest toss, at that, if you can believe it."

Califa smothered a smile. "He won, I presume?"

Roxton's mouth twisted again, but this time into an affectionate grin. "Of course he did."

"So you were rich?"

"In a manner of speaking. He won this s.h.i.+p."

Califa blinked. "He what?"

"And enough money to outfit her, and make a few changes. One toss of the dice and we were in business."

Califa shook her head in amused wonder. "Are you certain those dice weren't rigged?"

He nodded. "They were the other man's, the owner's. Besides, Dax doesn't need to cheat. He has the devil's own luck."

Califa sobered. "Even that kind of luck runs out, Roxton. He'll get himself killed, if he keeps on like this."

The beard took a fierce tugging this time. "Do you think I don't know that? Do you think I haven't tried to get him to stop, to take care, to stop acting..."

"Suicidal," Califa suggested when his voice trailed off.

"Exactly," Roxton agreed, his tone grim. "I try to rein him in, but he's so d.a.m.n stubborn."

"I've noticed."

Roxton chuckled humorlessly. "I suppose you have." He studied her for a long, silent moment. Then, shaking his head, he asked, "Are you sure you were a Coalition officer?"

She stiffened, but there didn't seem to be any threat in his words. "Quite."

"You don't seem like one."

"I'm not. Not anymore. Nor will I ever be again."

The man's eyes narrowed shrewdly. "And if it weren't for that collar they slapped on you?"