The Star Prince Page 7

  Jas and Rom walked with him to where the screen separated the sitting area from the larger chamber. Embracing his friends in turn, he bade them farewell. Then he swept his travel cloak around himself and strode from the room.

  Chapter Six

  “I know she overslept, Quin. But seeing that she got us off Blunder and onto Grüma—and we lived through it, I’d say she earned her time in the bunk. But Randall’s already gone, and I want to follow him. The only way we’re going to do that is if she’s rested.”

  Sprawled on her stomach, Tee’ah woke to voices in the corridor outside her quarters. The bedsheets were twisted around her bare thighs, pinning her legs in place, and her head hurt too much to move, so she lay there, listening.

  The Sun Devil was on Grüma now, and the thrusters were shut down. It was quiet except for the whispery hum of the air recyclers and the men’s voices.

  “A round-trip to Barésh is no quick jaunt.” Recognizing Quin’s voice, she winced into her pillow. “Tee can fly, I’ll give her that. But taking a new pilot deep into new territory when we hardly know her…? I don’t know, Captain. I don’t like it. And her drinking—”

  “Oh, she won’t be drinking; I guarantee that,” she heard Ian reply before he lowered his voice. She lifted her head, straining to hear. “I’m not about to let her go anywhere unsupervised. I’ll watch her myself, if I have to.”

  Heavens. They thought she was wild and reckless and not to be trusted. What a difference from how she’d been viewed by others—and herself—for most of her life.

  “With Randall a day ahead of us, I don’t see that we have a choice. Tee! Are you alive in there?”

  With that came a horrible knocking on her door. She moaned and rolled onto her back, untangling her legs from the sheets. She didn’t have to pretend to be a shiftless pilot. She felt like one from her throbbing head to her sore feet.

  “Tee! You’re on duty. Rise and shine.”

  “I’m trying.” Her first attempt at speech came out as a raspy croak. Clearing her dry throat, she tried again. “One moment.” She hunted for clothes in the mess she’d left upon finding her bed and collapsing into it. Cleaning droids at the palace scoured her chamber daily, while handmaidens returned everything she used to its proper place, leaving her room faultlessly clean. A neat chamber had never been a reflection of her own preferences, but of those who looked after her. At that, she smiled. It seemed untidiness was rather liberating—and it was a far safer vice than Mandarian whiskey.

  She left her brother’s shirt hanging loose over her trousers and limped to the door. Ian stood in the entry, a mug held in each hand. Steam rising from the exotic cups brought with it a tantalizing nutty smell. One mug was painted with Earth runes: SHOOT FOR THE STARS—RED ROCKET ALE. The other sported a montage of clothed black-and-white rodents with big around ears and the letters: DISNEY WORLD—CHICAGO.

  “Good morning,” her employer said pleasantly, looking her over as if searching for signs of the continued hangover she hoped to hide. Why did people drink if this was the consequence? “Sleep well?”

  “Quite well. Thank you.” Awkwardly she attempted to tidy her uneven, spiky hair, then gave up and dropped her hands.

  His expression was one of gentle amusement as he offered her the rodent mug. “Coffee. Try it. It beats tock hands down.”

  She moved aside to allow him into her cramped quarters. He wore an outer garment cut in a foreign style and constructed of black leather. It was unsnapped to his waist, revealing a plain white, closefitting shirt that drew her attention to his firm, athletic build.

  “I apologize for oversleeping,” she said. “I usually never do. Of course there are quite a few things I’ve done lately that I don’t do, like stumbling out of bars drunk.” He looked a bit skeptical, and she couldn’t blame him. She had told him she drank all the time…and guzzled all that whiskey. “I shall set two alarm chimes from now on.”

  “Quin can be your backup, I suppose.”

  She laughed. “That’s all the incentive I need to wake on time.”

  After a moment Ian’s grin faded. “All right, pilot. We have to talk.”

  Her pulse sped up. “I figured that. Please, have a seat…if you can find one.”

  The silver fastenings on his hip-length outer garment glinted as he contemplated the snarled sheets and blanket spilling onto the floor, the boot she’d left sitting on the bedside table, and the soiled socks draped over the bunk’s metal footboard. After a moment, stymied, he offered her the mug of coffee again.

  She accepted it with a quiet thanks, then clutching the delicious-smelling hot beverage in her hands, unable to come up with anything else to say, she simply stared in fascination as he moved aside her other boot and sat on the edge of the bunk. He wasn’t overly tall, yet he seemed to fill the room with his presence. There was something about him, something she couldn’t define but that nonetheless attracted her. Charisma, self-assurance. But as she’d discovered since coming aboard the Sun Devil, his confidence with his crew stopped blessedly short of arrogance. She was all too used to that particular trait in the royal men she’d met at court.

  “All right, Tee, let’s talk. About that little incident on Blunder—what can you tell me about that?”

  The ache behind her eyes began to throb. “With Dar security?”

  “Yes.” He observed her as he sipped his coffee.

  She fought the mighty urge to fidget under his scrutiny. “What would you like to know?”

  Something flickered in his eyes, but she couldn’t tell whether it was annoyance or amusement. “Did you steal that starspeeder?”

  “I borrowed it.”

  “Ah.”

  “Long-term,” she qualified.

  “I see.”

  Maybe he did, but she had the feeling he wouldn’t stop asking questions until she had satisfied his curiosity. She didn’t dare tell the truth. On the other hand, she was a horrible liar, and she wouldn’t feel comfortable wholly deceiving the man who’d helped her escape her father’s guards. She’d best come up with a version of the truth, a background that paralleled her own.

  “I worked as a pilot on Mistraal, the Dar homeworld.” It felt strange, mentioning that fact so casually, as if the Dars were merely employers, not flesh and blood. “I wanted to fly, but my family wanted me to marry. Had I agreed, I’m sure I would have lost the last of what little freedom I had. The speeder was my only way off planet.” She willed him to understand the hopelessness that drove her to such a desperate measure.

  “Didn’t you think the Dars would miss their ship?”

  Her cheeks burned. “Well. They have it back now.”

  “True.”

  “I intended to keep it only until I saved enough for a down payment on a vessel of my own. I would have returned it. Eventually.” Nervously she tried the contents of her mug, more out of a desire to appear relaxed than to quench her thirst. But the beverage tasted heavenly, and she brought the mug to her lips for another drink.

  Ian leaned forward, balancing his forearms on his thighs. “Did you talk at length to anyone on Blunder besides me and the bartender?”

  “Only the cloaker I hired. The only way Dar security would know that I boarded your ship is if the cloaker saw me go with you and Dar security forced it out of him.”

  “Forced?” Ian gave a quick laugh. “He’d volunteer the information in a heartbeat if it meant reducing his fine.”

  Tee’ah felt her heart jump. “I had to give him thousands of credits as insurance against those fines. I don’t think he’s one to want to help the authorities.” She prayed that was so.

  Ian shoved one hand through his hair. His misgivings regarding rescuing her were evident in the shadows under his eyes. She felt bad. He’d saved her; he didn’t deserve the risk she was bringing him. The least she could do was make him feel comfortable about keeping her aboard his ship. “All right,” she said. “Let’s assume the cloaker talked, then. And with a few judicious bribes and maybe a
few threats, Dar security used what they learned from him to find out which ship belonged to you, the Earth dweller. We didn’t file destination coordinates with the space controller, correct?” She took a steadying breath. “So the only data available to them would have been our initial routing. Even if they retrieved, deciphered, and downloaded our routing, without knowing our destination they’d have lost us when we jumped to hyperspace.”

  Ian nodded, as if he agreed with her reasoning. “I’ve already had a look around the city,” he said. “There were no Dars.”

  “Then the cloaker held his tongue, yes?”

  “I hope so.” Her employer tipped his mug toward his mouth and drained the contents. Then he set the cup on the floor between his boots. When he focused on her, his gaze was penetrating. His voice was low. “As part of my crew, you’re going to see and do some things you don’t understand. The less you know, the better, if you know what I mean.”

  Tee’ah wasn’t sure she did, but she nodded nonetheless.

  “I sell Earth goods on the black market. That means I go where I want, see whom I want, and stay as long or short as I want. I don’t make a lot of money, but enough to afford a few luxuries and to support my ship and crew.”

  He searched her face for shock, perhaps, or distaste. But that’s not what Tee’ah felt at all. She envied his life of independence and freedom.

  “If the Trade police wanted to,” he continued, “they could easily fine me out of business. Or arrest me. So I make it a point not to attract their attention.”

  “I don’t care to attract anyone’s attention, either.”

  He considered her statement. “That’s true. You’re on the run.”

  She gulped her coffee and scalded her throat.

  He paused, then shrugged. “Well, so are half the people in the frontier I suppose.” He gave her a curious look. “I saw the way the soldiers acted when they combed the bars on Blunder looking for you. They were friendly. More importantly, they had their pistols in their holsters. Right away I knew you weren’t dangerous.” He regarded her steadily. “But what are you, Tee?”

  Her reluctance to explain sat between them like a Tjhu’nami shield, thick and silent. It was clear that he sensed her hesitation. Compassion filled his greenish-gray eyes. Curiosity, too. Which unnerved her. If she were careless in what she revealed about herself, he’d grow more suspicious than he already was. And she couldn’t afford that, couldn’t risk the chance of anyone—especially a black-market merchant—discovering who she was. She’d eluded her father’s men last time, but there was no guarantee she’d escape the next. After the sometimes terrifying yet exhilarating days since leaving home, she was certain that she never wanted to be trapped in the sheltered isolation of her old life again.

  With that in mind, she chose the frankest reply of all. “I’m not what I was.”

  He kept silent, as if hoping she’d volunteer more. She didn’t. But neither did he. Perhaps he recognized that pressing her for information would lead to questions about his own activities. Perhaps there were other reasons.

  He regarded her for a moment longer before he stepped into the corridor. “By the way, I need you ready to fly.”

  “Again?” She’d already figured that going back to bed wouldn’t be possible, but another flight so soon after the last? She gritted her teeth against her aching head. “Of course, Captain, To where?”

  “To Barésh. Have you been there?”

  “No. I have never heard of it.”

  “That makes two of us. A respectable portion of the galaxy’s trillidium is taken out of the Baréshti Mines, from what I’m told.” He hesitated, as if gauging what to tell her. “I learned this morning that my competitor is headed there. I want to find out why he’s interested in the place.”

  “When do we leave?”

  He must have sensed the anticipation in her tone as well as her fatigue. He replied with a slightly apologetic smile. “This afternoon. Quin’s working on some repairs—today the environmental control system’s giving us trouble. Tomorrow, who knows?” he added irritably. “So get finished dressing and get something to eat.”

  She stopped him before he left the room. “Is there a market nearby?”

  “Yes. About a mile away.”

  “Excellent. I need to go shopping.”

  “I see.” He scrutinized her. “For what, exactly?”

  She fought an evil urge to say, “Whiskey.” Instead she pointed to her stained, ill-fitting outfit. “I need new uniforms, extra clothing, and a way to replace the toiletries I left on my ship.”

  “Understood. I’ll take you after breakfast.”

  She stared at him as he stood and strode away, uncertain what she had gotten herself into. The Earth dweller was an enigma, like no one she’d ever known or been exposed to. Certainly he was up to no good. Danger and excitement were a way of life for him.

  And it appeared she was going along for the ride.

  “Is this the way you treat your best repo pilot?” a woman shouted. “Wait. I’m your only repo pilot. I want what you owe me. Now. Every last blasted credit!”

  Gann Truelénne stood in the shadows outside a faded tent in a row of seedy shops on Donavan’s Blunder. He’d journeyed here immediately after leaving Rom and Jas on Sienna, intent on questioning the cloaker who had tried to help Princess Tee’ah camouflage her speeder. But from within the tent, an argument raged.

  “Lara, there’s no money left to recover your ship. None. Dar security fined me into oblivion. But I’ll make good on what I owe you; I swear it. Give me more time.”

  “ ‘Give’ you?” The woman spat the words with contempt. “I don’t give anything to anyone. Not even you, Eston. You know that.” The female’s voice turned sullen. “I needed the credits to pay the landing fees on that disgusting rock, Kabasten. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have been there. Now they’ve impounded my ship! Damn it, Eston, it’s the only thing I have, and you know it.”

  Gann detected a slight thickening in the woman’s voice. “Where am I supposed to go?” she asked. “Would you tell me? How am I supposed to make a living now? Damn you, Eston!”

  Something heavy crashed to the floor and shattered. Gann winced.

  “Lara—”

  “The next one will hit the target; I swear it,” the female said in a hiss. “All this has happened because you helped that spoiled little Vash Nadah. How could you? After all you know about them!”

  Against his better judgment, Gann pushed aside the tent flap and walked in. Broken pottery crunched under his boots. “Good day to you.” Smiling, he glanced around the disorganized tent, looking for hints, items of clothing, anything that might indicate that the princess had been there.

  “Vash scum.”

  The woman, Lara, had directed her remark at him. Her honey brown eyes full of fire, her chest heaving, Lara glared at him. Her voice was low and venomous. “I despise the Vash. Every…last…one.”

  Her ferocity caught Gann off guard. At forty-five standard years, he’d seen his share of the darker side of life; he’d fought in an unpopular, protracted war—the only conflict since the inception of the Vash Nadah—and subsequently accompanied its instigator, Rom B’kah, into exile. Gann was no stranger to bitterness and anger in all their forms. But never had he seen hatred displayed with such intensity and passion as that expressed by this woman. Which was truly saddening, for apart from her animosity she was fascinating to behold. What a waste that such a beauty could be filled with such ill will.

  From nearby, the cloaker’s cheery voice shattered the awkwardness in the room. “Good day to you, sir,” he sang out, his expression eager. “Do you need your ship cloaked, perhaps?”

  “Let’s just say that I need your expertise.”

  “Expertise, my eye.” The woman’s mouth dipped in a sneer as she looked him over from head to boots. Stripped naked, he doubted he would have felt more exposed to her scrutiny.

  She leaned against one of the support poles, he
r arms folded over her chest. Although her skin was as smooth as a twenty-year-old girl’s, her eyes looked eighty. He’d place her age somewhere in between—mid-thirties, he guessed, a good decade younger than himself. Her black one-piece outfit was utilitarian and unisex, like her tawny neck-length hair, a contrast to the dainty jewelry sparkling on her ears and wrists. “So…the Vash Nadah didn’t extort enough credits from Eston their first time,” she taunted. “They had to send you back for more. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Admit it, Vash.”

  Gann decided to ignore the moody little fireball. To his mild amusement, he saw that it infuriated her. “The Vash woman you were fined for helping is a runaway,” he told the cloaker. “Her family fears for her welfare, and sent me here on their behalf so that they may be reunited with her swiftly and safely. I’m not here to punish you or to coerce you, but to reward you.”

  The woman choked out a laugh.

  “Generously,” Gann said, as if he hadn’t heard. “If you cooperate and give me information leading to where I can find the woman.” One by one he laid currency cards on the cloaker’s desk until the equivalent of five thousand credits fanned out over the alloy top.

  Shoulders held stiffly, the woman named Lara walked to a small ion-burner and poured a cup of tock. An intricately patterned silver band slid down her wrist. The workmanship was exquisite and matched the braided ring adorning her left ear. She sipped silently, her slender back toward him. “Don’t waste your time, Eston,” she snarled. “I’d trust a desert snake before I’d trust a Vash Nadah.”

  Eston cast her a pleading glance before he regarded Gann with interest. “I may be able to help you,” he said, and waggled his eyebrows pointedly at the credits.

  “Excellent.” Gann allocated a thousand more to his cause. There were times when Rom’s bottomless fortune came in handy, he thought. “You told Dar security that the woman disappeared off planet while you labored aboard her speeder. Is that true?”

  “Don’t you dare accuse us of lying.” The woman’s voice squeezed out past her gritted teeth. She strode to the tent flap and shoved it open, allowing a steamy, sickly-smelling breeze to seep inside. “You don’t belong in the frontier. None of you Vash do. Get out!”