Star Prince (v1.1)

by Susan Grant

  At first silence hovered between them, then Gann reached out and smoothed his hand over her tawny hair and then her cheek. She shuddered and shut her eyes. "I want to do more than badger you, Lara." he whispered. And he did. Never had he so wanted to make love to a woman.

  Her eyelids twitched but remained closed. He brought his other hand to her face, framing her jaw, tipping up her chin as he bent toward her. Their breath mingled. Then she stretched upward and touched her lips to his.

  He tasted her, moving his mouth over hers lightly, savoring the feel. It was the gentlest of kisses, an invitation. A promise, he hoped, of more, of better. "Sweet sunshine," he murmured.

  He thought he heard her sigh as he pulled away, but he wasn't sure. Nonetheless, he gave her his most irresistible smile. "So, my badgering is effective, eh? You may regret revealing that little discovery."

  She gave a small smile, then said, "For once I'd say the gamble is worth the risk." Then she turned her back to him and went to work getting them when they needed to go, one hand resting on the ketta cat's bony back.

  There was a spring in his step as Gann returned to his seat. As soon as the Princess Tee'ah was safely onboard his ship, he planned to show Lara exactly what she'd just wagered, one exquisite, pleasure-filled step at a time.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Tee'ah's heart lurched. Crat. "That's Klark Vedla in Randall's jeep."

  "So, it is," Ian said, his tone ominous.

  The bliss left from her moments alone with Ian vanished as quickly as the dust settling in the jeep's wake. Her first impulse was to run in the opposite direction. But she shoved aside her self-indulgent, self-centered fear, as she'd failed to do on Baresh. Klark's interference in frontier politics could have disastrous consequences. Although living within the confines of its culture was impossible, she was proud of her Vash Nadah heritage and she didn't want to see all her people had accomplished ruined by bigotry and the Vedlas' ambition. Her status as a fugitive didn't allow her to expose the danger of Klark's interference to the Great Council; but, by the heavens, it didn't mean she couldn't help Ian do exactly that.

  "It's as you said." Ian lowered his binoculars. "Vash are involved in Randall's campaign."

  "But do you think he understands who Klark is?"

  He considered her question. "Randall resents the Federation. I can't imagine him agreeing to a Vash using him so blatantly to keep me off the throne, just so they might install one of their own." Ian's expression turned dark. "Che… I've met him. I liked him, too. I thought it was mutual." His frown deepened, making it obvious he felt betrayed.

  A muscle in his jaw pulsed as he peered through the binoculars to where the road crested the ridge and descended to the ruins, a group of ancient sprawling buildings made of crumbling stone. Tiny now, the jeep was parked next to a sleek hovercar in front of the buildings where the men had disembarked.

  "Let's go," Ian said.

  "To the fortress?" She was instantly lightheaded. "Klark's there."

  "He's a coward. He won't do anything in front of the senator." Ian touched his laser pistol. "I guarantee it."

  It wasn't what he'd do that worried her, but what he might reveal about her. Be brave. You carry the blood of the ancient warriors. She mounted the Harley and tried not to contemplate the unpleasantness surely to come of the reunion with her ex-fiance's brother.

  They headed downhill toward the ruins. Klark emerged from Randall's starship. He stopped, looked up the road. To her horror, he dashed across the clearing to the hovercar and closed the hatch.

  It glided onto the road.

  Tee'ah pounded her fists against Ian's hips. "He's coming this way," she yelled.

  Ian slowed the Harley and veered closer to the shoulder. So did the hovercar.

  "Ian—watch out!"

  The shriek of turbofan engines drowned out her scream. Sleek and gray, the hovercar bore down on them.

  Ian threw his arms around her and shoved her off the Harley. They fell onto the grass, tumbling, arms and legs flying. Klark's car roared past. Whipped into a maelstrom, pebbles and thorny pine needles struck the exposed skin on her neck and wrists.

  "You bastard!" Ian whipped out his pistol and took aim at the vehicle as it continued up the road. Then he swore, lowering the weapon. "With my luck he'd crash into a tree and kill himself," he told her. "Although right now I can't say I'd mind, I imagine the Great Council might." He pocketed his weapon and whipped out his comm. "Sun Devil, Ian here."

  Muffin answered so quickly Tee'ah was certain the big man had been waiting for that very call, his thick finger hovering over the message button. "Acknowledged."

  "Klark's headed your way in a hovercar—Expedition model, I believe. Metallic gray. Find him, detain him until I get back."

  "You got it, Captain," Muffin said and went offline.

  Ian pulled Tee'ah to her feet. "You okay?" he asked, squeezing her gloved hand.

  From below, a hiss escaped the docked starship. "They're doing a preflight checklist," Tee'ah said urgently. "Your senator's getting ready to depart."

  The late model hovercar glided along the docks. When it finally settled in front of an unmarked star-speeder, three members of the Sun Devil’s crew were waiting.

  Muffin opened the door, reached inside and pulled Klark out. The toes of the Vash's immaculate boots scrubbed over the pavement.

  The startled prince fought back. He was tall, athletic, but no match for Muffin's bulk. The bodyguard marched him away from the car like a recalcitrant child.

  "What do you want with me?" he demanded.

  "You have an audience with the crown prince. I'm making sure you get there." There was more tussling.

  Quin walked alongside. "You've caused us a lot of trouble, my lord."

  "The crown prince is not happy," Gredda threw in. "I suppose you'll have some explaining to do."

  Outrage tightened Klark's aristocratic features, and he reached inside his cloak. Gredda shoved the heel of her boot behind his knee. Klark stumbled forward and his dagger skittered over the pavement. Quin snatched it away, shocked. The mechanic started sputtering.

  Klark regained his footing, but Muffin seized him from behind. "Frisk him, Gredda."

  She gave Klark a slow smile. "My pleasure."

  The prince fought in vain to free his arms from Quin and Muffin. Gasping, he sneered at her as she patted her hands over his body. "I hear you Valkarian women sodomize each other because your men won't touch you. Is that true, you cow?"

  Gredda grabbed his groin and squeezed. "You tell me, Lord Vedla."

  Grimacing, Klark wrenched free and struck out with his right fist. The men were back on him so fast that it took them a moment to realize what he was shouting as he tried theatrically to struggle away.

  "Help! Please, help me! Pickpockets. Thieves! "

  A crowd gathered. "Aw, bite my butt," Muffin said glumly. Two eager-to-help, armed trade police were pushing their way past the spectators.

  Tee'ah and Ian strode to the senator's ship. Randall and his guard Lucarelli met them at the bottom of the gangway. Recognition flared in the Earth senator's eyes. "Why, it's Stone," he said in English. "From the karaoke bar. I apologize, but I won't have time for that drink I promised you. I'm heading home."

  "Stone is an alias, sir. My real name is Ian Hamilton. I'm here on a mission critical to maintaining galactic peace, on behalf of Romlijhian B'kah, ruler of the Vash Nadah Trade Federation." He'd spoken in Basic—for her, Tee'ah realized with a surge of feeling that was disturbingly more than affection. "We need to talk, senator. Now. Here or in private."

  Randall ignored the overture to hold the conversation in Basic. "Run a digital ID," he ordered Lucarelli in English.

  "I consent to a retinal scan, too," Ian told them.

  Tee'ah reached into her thigh pocket for her wafer-thin Basic-to-English translator, Muffin's gift to her weeks ago.

  Lucarelli disappeared inside the ship and returned with a device that he held to Ian's right ey
e. The man then aimed the device's infrared beam at his gauntlet computer. No one spoke as the two processors communicated. After thirty seconds or so, Lucarelli glanced up. Astonishment tinged his voice. "It's him, sir."

  Randall's expression reflected both curiosity and cynicism—and a good deal of mistrust. Nonetheless, he extended his hand. "It's about time we met."

  "I say so, too, senator." They shook warily.

  Rumbling erupted from underneath the starship as mechanical components needed for its long space journey were bought online. Tee'ah was still so unsettled by the near miss with Klark's hovercar that she jumped back. Resting her hand on her pistol, she watched the road for Klark's return.

  "Senator, hold off showing your footage of the fringe worlds to the president."

  Randall lifted a silver brow. "Why?"

  "Because if you don't, you'll open a rift between Earth and the Federation. Yes, we need to help Baresh and the worlds like it—immediately—but alone Earth doesn't have the technology to rebuild entire planets. You know that. We have to work together with the Federation. I'm in a once-in-a-lifetime—maybe a once-in-history position to be that mediator, to make Earth a vital and important member of the Federation. But if the situation at home worsens and Earth declares independence, the Vash will never agree to me becoming king, and you'll have lost the best chance, maybe the last chance, to play a positive role in the galaxy's future."

  Randall took a couple of steps back from the small group, then he folded his arms over his chest and walked forward. Broken flagstones crackled under his shoes. "How do I know if you're not asking me to behave just so you won't lose the crown?"

  A muscle jumped in Ian's jaw. "You don't. You also don't know that a Vash Nadah prince is using you as an instrument in a conspiracy to keep me from being confirmed as Rom B'kah's successor."

  Randall exchanged bewildered glances with Lucarelli and the other man just joining them, Gruber, whom Tee'ah remembered from the bar.

  "In fact, he did his best just now to run me down in his hovercar."

  The senator gave him a funny look. "Do you mean Kip?"

  "His name is Klark, Klark Vedla. He's a full-blooded Vash prince, the second-born son of the Vedlas, one of the eight royal Vash Nadah families."

  "Son, you're mistaken. He's no more Vash than your companion is. They owe their appearances to mixed blood."

  Tee'ah read her translator and grimaced. If Ian only knew…

  "Kip's from a wealthy family," Randall insisted. "But he's an avenger of sorts. He does what he can to help the downtrodden peoples of the galaxy."

  "The only thing he's avenging is Rom B'kah's choice in heirs," Ian argued. "He showed you the worst conditions in the galaxy not because he cares about its victims, but because he recognizes your sense of honor and your ability as a leader and he's using them to further his own interests."

  "Which are?"

  "Making sure his eldest brother succeeds Rom B'kah and not me." As Ian explained Randall's unwitting role in Klark's plan to destabilize the frontier, the senator listened first with irritation, then denial, and finally dismay. "If he succeeds," Ian said, "I won't be confirmed as Rom's heir, and Earth will lose out. You speak highly of the home team. I was born in Arizona, senator. If that's not the 'home team,' I don't know what is. Earth stands to benefit hugely if I take the throne."

  Gruber, the commerce secretary spoke up. "Benefit? I don't see how. If you'd just once publicly offered assurance that Earth would gain influence with such a move up, maybe I'd feel differently. But you haven't been home—that I know of—in five years. Five years."

  "I have to agree with Mike," Randall said. "By all appearances, you're more like them than you are like us."

  Ian let out a breath. "No, sir," he said firmly. He turned his eyes to Gruber. "I've made several trips home, low-key, private trips, to see family and friends. I didn't think to schedule public appearances or speaking engagements. All my energy was devoted to gaining the trust of the Vash Nadah. I assumed Earth's trust would be automatic. Now I know that was a serious mistake. I focused on wooing the Vash at the expense of my homeworld." Ian lifted his hands. "I stumbled badly, senator."

  The three men appeared taken aback, as if they'd expected a different response, perhaps aggressive denial or an angry offensive.

  "I immersed myself in the Vash culture out of respect and love for my stepfather," Ian acknowledged. "I didn't expect him to name me as his successor, and it's made for some intense years at the palace. Still, some members of the Great Council don't think an Earth guy can do the job. I think they're wrong."

  Randall rubbed his chin. "I didn't know what kind of man you'd be," he said as if thinking aloud. "But I imagine you must be a fish out of water among all those Vash."

  Ian responded with a self-deprecating smile. "Yeah. I'm sometimes out of my league. But I've always liked being the underdog."

  "So have I," the senator said in a quiet voice.

  Tee'ah didn't have to consult her translator to understand that the dynamics of the interaction had shifted. As the two men sized each other up, shivery bumps prickled her skin. Charlie Randall and Ian Hamilton held the power to change the course of history. And she, a once hidden-in-the-shadows princess, had been instrumental in bringing them together on this tiny, far-flung world, with the hope that they might solve their differences with words, not weapons. Her role as a royal Vash woman hadn't made a direct role in politics a possibility, but now that she was free, someday, somewhere like Earth, she could go after that dream.

  "Work with me," Ian said. "Let's bring Earth the future it deserves."

  Regret shadowed Randall's sharp features, and that made Tee'ah's pulse race. "In my absence, the Earth-First movement has taken on a life of its own. They're protesting in all the major cities of the world. The United Nations is overwhelmed. They're considering a move to immediately rescind the decision to join the Federation."

  "Can you keep the footage of those fringe worlds from them until I get there?"

  "I… don't know."

  Ian glanced at her, and Tee'ah caught the frustration in his eyes. "Sweet heaven," she whispered. He had to, or Klark would succeed in his efforts and Ian's entire mission would be for naught.

  "Son, I sent what I recorded on ahead a few minutes before you showed up. At Kip's urging," Randall added with an uneasy expression. "For safekeeping, in case something happened to my ship. It's in the president's hands now. I can ask him to wait until we arrive before he shows it to anyone else, maybe."

  Ian swore. "Do it. I want to speak to him first."

  "All right. Meet me in Washington. I'll arrange everything."

  Randall gave him his contact information and instructions. "But don't delay. After meeting the president, go to the world leaders next. Whether or not you wanted the job, you're heir to an empire. It's time to act the part."

  Ian extended his arm, and the two men clasped hands, first in the manner of Earth dwellers, then in the hearty, forearm-gripping fashion of the Vash Nadah.

  "Muffin to Hamilton." A familiar deep voice blasted out of Tee'ah's trouser pocket. She grabbed her comm at the same time Ian snatched his.

  Ian answered. "Go ahead."

  "We have a problem, Captain," Muffin said. "I'm in jail."

  The main office of Grüma's detention center was a small room filled with viewscreens and the smell of stale tock. An open door let in cold, fresh air, reminding Ian that Randall was about to launch, if he hadn't already.

  He paced in front of a pursed-lipped police officer. "Let me see if I heard you right. My crew is charged with disrupting the flow of trade?" He'd expected something more colorful, like beating the crap out of an asshole.

  The women touched her fingertip to the row of golden triangles she wore vertically down the bridge of her nose. It was a gesture he'd noted she fell back on when speaking to him. "Yes, that is the charge. The cafe owner and several witnesses said the hov-ercar and resulting disturbance blocked the entrance to
his establishment. Thus the more serious charge of disrupting the flow of trade applies."

  Ian worked to calm himself. "Why didn't you arrest the driver, too?"

  Tee stared at her boots. He had no doubt her mind was full of images of Klark in various forms of misery.

  "Your crewmen were the aggressors, sir," the officer explained. "But, as I said, all charges will be dropped with your generous contribution to the local economy."

  Meaning a sizable bribe. Furious, Ian handed over the credits necessary to secure the crew's release. Then he smiled tightly. "Now may I escort my crew from your facility?"

  "I can arrange an appearance before the magistrate tomorrow," the police officer said, studying her viewscreen.

  Tee blurted out, "Tomorrow?"

  Ian flattened his hands on the desk and leaned toward the woman. "I thought the fine—"

  "The contribution," the officer corrected, rubbing her nose.

  "Yes, the contribution," Ian said with deadly calm. "It cleared their records of any charges. Or am I mistaken?"

  "No, sir. That's correct. After the appearance they'll be released."

  "Tomorrow."

  "Yes. Tomorrow."

  He pushed away from the desk. He didn't have until tomorrow. If the tapes got into the U.N.'s hands before he got there, Klark would succeed. Not for the first time, he almost told the officer who he was. He'd follow up with a few hints that things would go badly for her if she and her comrades didn't release his crew. But if he hoped to be the mediator for this region contemplating sovereignty, he couldn't afford word getting out that the galactic crown prince simply threatened local trade police who didn't do his bidding. No, he had to play by the rules, now more than ever, or he risked being thrown out of the game.

  He conceded defeat with a charming smile. In response, the officer simply rubbed her skin jewelry faster.