I just want to point out, this is a K&A story with no angst around the relationship, no screwy circumstance. Which proves, I CAN write a perfectly happy story about the two of them and just mess up the story in every other way!

Any thoughts you care to leave feeds the ego of this author, who waits with bated breath to hear what people think of my latest twisting of the story. Ok, maybe not with bated breath, but it does give me a thrill when they pop up!

Enjoy.

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The command staff gathered in the ready room, waiting for the commander. The members of the staff exchanged glances. It would take less than a day for their king to hear of the battle. At top speed they could return home in 19 days, but with so many of their ships crippled, leaking air, fuel, and barely holding together, estimates said it would take twice as long to reach their planet, and nearly two weeks to reach friendly space.

"Never seen them fight like that before."

"What were those missiles they sent? They sent out some kind of signal, but self-destructed before we had a chance to determine what they did."

"Cannot believe we fired on our own ships. Wonder how many people we lost."

"We lost several of our best commanders. Not sure where we go from here."

"Stupid waste of resources. We will never defeat this planet with the current scenarios and being stationed here is a death sentence on any career."

The commander no sooner uttered the words before the rest of the room saw a flash of light. Their prince stood behind the man with his glowing sword out. With a casual gesture, he pushed the tip of his sword against the back of the man's head, where it fell forward onto his lap. The rest of his body slumped forward, with the body coming to rest against the conference table.

"Death sentence carried out. Anyone else with any other comments about their current assignments?"

The remaining commanders responded with shakes of the head and murmured denials.

"Good." The Prince sauntered to his place at the head of the table, casually holstering his sword back onto his belt. "I want to know what went wrong today. My father will require some explanation, and frankly I want to avoid his wrath as much as possible. Depending on his response, we may need to implement measures to prevent mass defections from the fleet. That piece of meat there may have made a poor choice in expressing his feelings, but the sentiment will run throughout the fleet. Comments? Oh, and do tell the truth. I am granting a free pass right now."

Silence greeted the prince's words. In the quiet of the night, people referred to him as the Mad Prince, but never to his face. In the last several years, his obsessions with Arus and its crown princess had left a wake of bodies behind him at any perceived disagreement with his course of action.

The prince began tapping his fingers impatiently on the table top, "Well?"

Finally, the oldest commander in the room cleared his throat. "Your Highness, this battle did not follow any of the normal reactions of the planet. They did not engage in any communications with our fleet, and actively blocked any demands we tried to send."

The prince waved an impatient hand, "I am aware of that."

"We did not hear chatter over their lines as normal, which would allow us to follow their patterns and then determine where to launch the secondary attacks or when to launch the beast. No chatter between pilots, no chatter amongst the command ships. At least none that we could break. I do not know if they have new codes, new communications, or something different entirely, but it meant we could not anticipate any of their moves.

"Second, they launched some kind of new missiles at us that disrupted our communications, and left us unable to send commands to the robot fighters. It appeared they also sent overrides to our robots which caused them to change directions abruptly."

"To the robots or to their planes?" Inquired the prince.

The older man shrugged his shoulders, "We could not determine at this time, Your Highness. The tech people had their hands full, and the missiles either self-destructed, or quit transmitting after moments, which did not give our people enough time to capture the communication bursts."

"Hmmmm." The fingers did not stop their tapping. "Anything else?"

"They also managed to send a missile to stop the energy beam from hitting the beast for more than a moment. We do not know how they even knew which ship would launch it. The missile struck literally moments after the beam started. We lost that particular ship, so have no way of determining how they targeted it. In short, your Highness, it felt like we had never faced these people in combat before, and spent the entire time scrambling to catch up."

"Hmmmm." The prince turned to look at the wall of the conference room where a picture of one of the great battles of history hung. The fingers kept their rhythmic tapping, until the unease shrouded the room. The rest of the command staff did not utter a word but kept their gazes lowered, as if trying to avoid notice. "Commander. . . "

"Pellan, your Highness."

"I appreciate your honest evaluation. You will join me at supper and bring me further analysis and potential solutions. I also grant you a promotion to High Commander with all the rights and duties that accompany it."

Pellan stood and bowed to the Prince. "You honor me."

"No. I am giving you the worst job in the world." He sent a toothy grin at the newly promoted High Commander, "You will be presenting your findings to my father." The prince laughed as Pellan's face took on a sickly pallor at the thought. "Supper, Pellan. And I suggest you make offerings to the ancestors for their intervention."

"Yes, your Highness."

"You may all leave now."

With a quick scraping of chairs, the room emptied except for the prince. He called for a glass of wine and a slave girl to deliver it before returning to his contemplation of the picture, his mind seeking solutions.

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Connor found himself sitting next to the King in a box above an arena. Below, two gladiators emerged onto the field and walked to stand before the King bowing and saluting. Connor looked at both combatants. Neither looked particularly anxious.

Without any fanfare, the two gladiators took position and an unseen signal began to circle one another. Connor let his eyes unfocus, to allow his peripheral vision to see the king without giving an indication he did. The King did not make any pretense of looking at the gladiators, but instead studied Connor. Running through several scenarios of responses, Connor allowed his gaze to refocus on the combat, and leaned forward in his chair, arms resting on the balcony ledge to give the appearance of intense interest.

The combatants continued to circle, making probing jabs at the other, but neither committing to the fight. At last, one of the two made a small move which the second fighter countered. Three passes of the blade later, and Connor watched as the first warrior came under the second's guard and his sword sliced through the other's neck.

Connor watched as the second warrior dropped to his knees. It took all of Connor's self-discipline to not give any indication of his anticipation or hope that blood would flow. The first warrior finished the move and then watched his opponent. The diplomat concentrated on breathing normally as he waited for the body to fall. Instead, to his surprise, the first gladiator held out a hand and the second gripped the wrist and allowed the first to help him stand.

Connor could not stop his eyes from widening or the surprised exultation he uttered.

On the field, the first gladiator helped the second as they walked back to the door from where they had entered. When they had exited, he finally turned to look at the king, who wore a look of satisfaction.

"Obviously, I do not understand, your Majesty."

The king laughed at the depreciative tone from the diplomat. "Gladiators take years to train and many resources to bring them to a superior fighting level. If they died after every combat, our stock would soon run dry. Our witch came up with a clever way to keep them alive. She enchants the weapons used, so they do not cause any actual physical damage that can lead to death. However, as you witnessed, they cause enormous amounts of pain and suffering to the defeated. Pain, we find, is an amazing motivator, wouldn't you agree, diplomat?"

Mind racing, Connor looked for the trap in the words. "For some people, pain does teach obedience and a way to strive for improvement. For others, it only causes them to shrink into themselves, but the promise of freedom or other nebulous awards causes them to strive even harder."

The king stroked his chin for a moment before laughing, "Ahh, they chose well. We are pleased with this. Come then, we have much to discuss."

Connor gave himself a mental pat on the back for finding the right response, and let himself take a deep breath to enjoy the sensations flooding his brain. He congratulated himself on not only accepting the challenge, but manipulating the players so he could.

The King once again took a circuitous route to yet another room, with a conference table. Water, light snacks, and a pitcher of what looked like wine with glasses adorned the table. Obviously, the King anticipated a long discussion. Connor felt pleased. He knew from studying the king he moved quickly. Diplomats, those who sought favors, conquered peoples, all knew within a short period their fate. The king did not have the patience for the normal dance of diplomacy, although he always tested those who came looking for treaties or partnerships.

Connor waited until the king had sat himself and a servant or slaved poured him wine in a glass and set a plate of delicacies nearby. Connor waited until the young woman served him the save and then left in complete silence. He then raised his glass and saluted the king, "To potential."

The king took a large drink and then smiled toothily, "We shall see. No more dancing, tell me of your purpose."

"As you will. Connor set aside his glass and clasped his hands in front of him leaning forward. "In the next few days you will receive word your latest attempt to defeat the planet has ended in defeat. Most likely one of the largest losses of resources you have seen in some time. We knew of the attack well in advance and planned for it. No, you do not have a mole, and no, I do not know how they knew in advance. My training for this mission kept me in the dark about any and all military matters."

The king nodded, "We cannot extract what you do not know. Someone planned well for that. A most ignoble defeat? No surprise, that son of mine cannot plan strategy and does not listen to his advisors. He had not yet realized that the threat of execution does not inspire people to their best, but only fosters an atmosphere of dissent and scrambling to place the blame elsewhere." The king spoke the words with an air of casualness, but watched Connor closely.

"True. Leadership built on tyranny falls when fear no longer motivates."

"That does not explain why you are here or what you want."

Connor studied the king for a moment, noticing the signs of impatience. Disregarding the rest of his prepared comments he smiled. "A ten-year cease fire with provisions for neutral trade territories."

The king did not even blink. "And why would we grant that?"

"Because the cost analysis for continuing these attacks shows them to be non-sustainable. Especially now that the Queen has a King, and an heir is expected before you could launch another attack."

"That only gives another point of vulnerability for me to exploit."

"Or adds a reason for people to fight harder, innovate more, and bring the fight to you rather than wait; as has been tradition."

A single clawed finger tapped on the table and the king studied Connor for several minutes. Connor kept his heartbeat steady through a huge effort knowing he would take the time to enjoy the rush when dismissed and safe in his own vessel. "Leave us. We will wait this communication and then we will speak again."

Connor rose and bowed to the king. He left through the same door he entered, and found the same escort from earlier waiting for him, along with two more guards in their identical uniforms and helmets. "To my ship, if you please."

"Sir diplomat, we have prepared rooms for you."

"No thanks, I have work to do on my ship."

"But I have been given strict instructions," the woman began.

"Which do not pertain to me because I am not bound by your instructions. Now, either escort me to my ship, or I shall find my own way."

A flash of fear crossed the woman's face before she nodded compliance.

Connor smiled. Just a bit longer until he could let the feelings out and revel.

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The king stretched his arms above his head, and rolled his head around with a smile on his face. "Exactly as planned. Losses?"

The young man at the computer stared at the screen, pulling up the analysis of the battle. "A moment." A few commands later, and he nodded in satisfaction. "Less than anticipated. 15% of our physical resources, 5% personnel, with another 5% with life threatening injuries, and then the normal collection of minor bumps and bruises. All in all, everyone performed better than anticipated. I would expect the numbers to rise as the enemy learns of our new fighting styles. Of course, should Connor do his job, then all bets are off."

"I believe we have done everything possible to make sure that Connor succeeds. If we can have the ten years, we will change the face of the galaxy forever."

"Yes, your majesty, as you say your majesty."

"How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?"

"I have not yet decided, your majesty."

"Fine, then I will have her majesty confer that barony on you directly, my lord."

"Aw, man, c'mon, you cannot do that to the people. Who wants to listen to a scrawny geek of no discernable parentage?"

"Scrawny?"

"Ok, beefy, studly, mancake, but seriously, Cap. Why would you do that to innocent Arusians?"

"Because we need a new nobility?"

"Nope."

"Because it will be a long ten years if we succeed?"

"Nope."

"Because it will make my pregnant wife happy?"

A long pause followed his words. "Damn it, anyway."

The king grinned and clapped his friend on the back. "Congratulations, my lord. Please see the seamstress for appropriate clothing for the ceremony. Oh, and be ready for the all the fathers and mothers who will be bringing their children by for your perusal."

"Shit."

"Yep."

"Can I refuse?"

"Do you think that would be smart?"

"Wish I could say something against your pregnant wife." A suspicious looked pinned the young king in place. "I am beginning to get the feeling the outcome was already assured."

The man grinned unrepentantly. "Hey, when you have a child on the way, tell me you will not indulge that person?"

The young man only stuck his tongue out and turned back to the computer screens. "Go away. I have stuff to do. Important geeky, non-nobility stuff of great importance."

He continued to mutter about stupid ass traditions and backwards planets that needed modernization and to come out of the dark ages of a monarchy as the king strolled out, a smile on his face. His wife would be most pleased. Looking at the communications pad in his hand, he found the location of his next victim as given to him by his beloved, and set out in the directions of the repair bay.

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