Star Prince (v1.1)

by Susan Grant

  And if she had to see Ian from time to time in so doing, so be it, she thought desolately. They were both adults. In time, the hurt feelings and awkwardness between them would pass.

  She turned to Lara. "I'll become involved in politics on Earth. The more people learn about the Vash, those of us who are progressive and who care about the frontier, the less uneasy they'll be about staying part of the Federation. I'll study the languages, so I can become a bridge of sorts between their politicians and ours." She tapped her chin. "I'll stay with Ian's twin sister, Ilana, if she'll have me. Ian told me quite clearly that she doesn't care for rules." Tee'ah hoped that meant propriety wasn't important to her, either, and that she wouldn't mind harboring a soiled, odd-looking, runaway princess. "It will be a start, at least, until I'm settled enough to move on." Her skin tingled. "Earth is my destiny, Lara. I truly believe that."

  Frozen in place, Lara looked like she'd swallowed an oster egg.

  Tee'ah wondered if she'd done the right thing by trusting this woman with her plans. "What is it?"

  "Blast it all to hell. Those damned Vash." The pilot glanced up sharply. "No offense, but I thought I was helping retrieve a spoiled, impetuous royal—Not forcing a woman back to a life she doesn't want." A look of profound pain constricted Lara's features, as if she were fighting a tremendous inner battle. "No," she said. "I won't do it. I won't steal your choices… the way mine were stolen, long ago."

  Tee'ah placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You understand?"

  Lara's lips thinned. "Too well." She thought for a moment. "If I offered you a way to get to Earth, would you take it?"

  Tee'ah's heart sped up. "Yes. Yes, I would."

  Lara stood, spilling the ketta-cat out of her lap. "Let's go, princess." She took her by the arm and dragged her into the corridor. "I'm flying you to Earth. But if you want half a chance at succeeding, we'll have to do it before the men get back."

  Ian strode through the Sun Devil in one last inspection of the repaired spacecraft. Gann followed, his hands clasped behind his back. Muffin brought up the rear, while Quin wrapped up last-minute details in the cockpit and Gredda and Push secured the air-depleted maintenance pod in the cargo bay. Ian forcibly dragged his mind away from what had happened in it. He'd chosen galactic peace over his own personal desires. It was the responsible thing to do, so why did he feel like such a jerk? You slept with her. And then you let her go. Part of him wished she had been willing to fight harder to keep what they had. But she hadn't, and she was right.

  The good of the many outweighs the needs of the few.

  The passage that had always guided his actions now left a bitter taste in his mouth. But it would get him through the next few days.

  It had to.

  "Captain!" Quin caught up to them. "There's a call for you. It's the king."

  "Ah, good." He'd been trying to contact his stepfather all day, but Rom hadn't replied. Unusual for him not to do so, but then the man had his other responsibilities.

  Ian took the call in the cockpit. Rom's face was already framed in the main communications view-screen. "Ah, Ian." A small scar on his stepfather's upper lip stretched thin. "Greetings."

  Something was off, but Ian couldn't tell what it was. He nodded uneasily. "Greetings, my lord. I need to bring you up to date on what's happened."

  "I imagine you do." Rom pressed his splayed fingertips together. "You changed the encryption codes on your comm. I couldn't reach you."

  Something was definitely off. "I intended to brief you fully, as I will now. But at the time, I didn't want to risk broadcasting the details of my mission before I had the chance to determine Senator Randall's intentions."

  Rom's voice rose. "Your mission is over."

  "My lord?"

  "I can't have you complicating the matter more so than it is already. My senior trade minister tells me the situation on Earth is near collapse."

  "Help's on the way. I'm meeting with Randall and the president of the United States two days after I arrive. I forwarded you the information on the fringe worlds. Randall's ready to work with me on all counts. I believe I'm in a unique position to bring both sides together."

  "No," Rom said bluntly. "The problem needs to be addressed in the Great Council first. We will debate the issues, agree on a course of action and proceed."

  Ian didn't know how to respond. Rom was telling him one thing, but his gut was telling him another. Calling off the mission now smacked of recklessness and arrogance, not the prudence the Federation was renowned for. "Rom. By the time the Great Council makes a decision, it'll be too late—"

  "I have too many fires to put out, Ian. I don't need you lighting any more. The frontier is more in danger of splitting apart than ever before. And on the home front, I have the Dars on one side, demanding to know what their daughter was doing on your ship, and on the other, the Vedlas are in an uproar, and understandably so."

  Ian almost brought up Klark and his accusations against the prince. But he sensed that now wasn't the time. Instead he cleared his throat and said, "About the princess…"

  "Joren says you stole her away."

  "No, sir. She has higher principles than that. Higher than her father or anyone else, it seems, is willing to acknowledge."

  "Higher than her own obligations, it appears."

  "She didn't want to marry Che. The family tried to force her—and they still might. It's barbaric. I thought we wanted to lose the outdated traditions.'' In your private life you don't observe them, he wanted to argue. But he was already walking the fine line between honesty and disrespect, and so he pulled back. "If they try to force her again, we need to step in."

  The muscles in Rom's jaw flexed, as if he was clenching his teeth. "I'm willing to discuss any aspect of your relationship with her, except you continuing it."

  "Well, she was a damned good starpilot and an indispensable member of my crew. She'll be missed."

  "Just make sure she gets home." Rom regarded him stonily. "I will see you at the palace." The viewscreen went blank.

  Ian gripped his armrests. He felt like a ship ripped from its mooring line in a class-five hurricane. In all his dealings with the Vash Nadah, the Great Council, the other royals, one thing he'd always had, and had learned to count on, was Rom's encouragement and support. With the extensive information he'd compiled and had now sent on to Rom, he couldn't fathom his stepfather ordering him to come home. Not now, not when he was so close. But obviously Rom thought he'd screwed up. Worse, the king had summoned him to Sienna to keep him from mucking up anything else.

  Wearily, Ian stood. Muffin and Gann were staring at him in shock. He jerked his hands in the air. "What?"

  Muffin shook his head. "You've really done it now, Captain."

  "I'll say." Gann scratched his fingers through his hair. "In thirty years working with the man, I've never seen him that angry."

  Muffin let out a half-nervous, half glad-it-wasn't-me chuckle.

  Ian glared at them. "Nothing like a supportive crew in times of trial." He rubbed his hands over his face and walked to the gangway. "We're aborting the mission. Prepare to depart for Sienna," he said bitterly. As he hoisted himself to the first rung, a vibration rumbled through the Sun Devil, then a jolt followed by ominous silence.

  Gann, Muffin, and Ian exchanged disbelieving glances. "They wouldn't," Ian said.

  Gann swore under his breath. "Normally, I'd agree with you. With her I'm not so sure."

  They bolted up the gangway and down the corridor to the portal where the Quillie had been docked. What had been an open passageway leading to Gann's ship was now a closed airlock. In front of the hatch the ketta-cat sat, lonely and forlorn, mewing its heart out.

  Damn it all to hell. The women had taken the Quillie and left.

  "Grab their jump coordinates," Ian ordered from where he paced in front of the huge, curved forward viewscreen in the cockpit.

  "They didn't transmit any."

  And why would they? They didn't want to be
followed, obviously. Ian placed his hands behind his back and scowled. "Then input our coordinates for Sienna." When he arrived at the palace, he was going to have to explain a lot more than his handling of the frontier, now that it looked like Tee had taken her freedom.

  Good for you, pixie, part of him thought. She'd fought for what she wanted, and hadn't given up until she'd got what she was after. Unlike him, trudging home to the barn like an obedient cow.

  "Coordinates for Sienna are in," Gann said. "I'm ready when you are."

  Ian lifted his hand to give the order. But he hesitated.

  The crew watched him curiously.

  If he returned to Sienna, it would underscore Randall's original doubts about him, that he put the needs of the Federation over his homeworld. Then the footage of Baresh would make it to the United Nations, who were spring-loaded to sever ties to the Vash. And they had every right, if this is the way the Vash Nadah dealt with the frontier, treating its peoples' concerns like nuisance administrative issues that could be discussed at their leisure. They were wrong in this. Rom was wrong. And if the frontier split from the Federation, the galaxy would lurch toward years of unrest that would end in another devastating war.

  The way out of that future rested on his shoulders.

  His hand became a fist. "Your orders have changed. Cancel the coordinates for Sienna and set a course for Earth."

  "Sir?" Gann exchanged glances with Muffin.

  "I'm not calling off the mission. Set a course for Earth, Mr. Truelenne."

  "The king asked us to return."

  "He didn't ask us," Ian informed him. "He ordered us. And I'm countermanding that order. I may be new at this game, but I know what's right. Turning tail and running is wrong. I'm the only one who can resolve the situation on Earth. And I intend to—with or without Vash backing. You can't follow the rules all the time."

  The crew considered him with a strange mix of shock and curiosity, as if they'd opened a box and found something they hadn't expected.

  "Are you with me?" he asked them.

  Gredda raised her hand. "I am."

  "Count me in," Muffin said. "And us," Quin and Push chimed in.

  For Gann, though, the decision appeared to be a struggle. He'd followed Rom to hell and back, and his loyalty had never wavered.

  "You can leave once we get to Earth," Ian told him. "I understand."

  Gann glanced up. "No, Ian; you have my support in this mission. I believe you can bring both sides together. It's Rom I can't understand." His lips thinned. "Just as he might not understand when I explain that I did this for him." He spread his hands on the desk in front of him. "I await your order, Captain."

  Ian lowered his fist in one sweeping motion. "Take us to Earth. Maximum speed."

  At the outer reaches of the solar system, the Sun Devil dropped out of hyperspace and raced toward Earth. Ian stood at the helm and gazed at his planet's sun, at this distance still tiny and cold. It is time, he thought determinedly. Time to prove his theory that Earth would stay in the Federation if they were given a tangible reason to do so, and if they felt they could play an important role within an established civilization so vast that it boggled the mind. Once in Washington, his greatest challenge would be presenting the image of capable leadership, despite his lack of Vash support. He had to come across as a levelheaded crusader, a man willing to stand up for the rights of his people. And he had to do this without antagonizing the Federation. Then, he hoped, he could begin the long process of bridging his two worlds without sacrificing the needs of either.

  The way you sacrificed Tee.

  He winced. He'd let her turn him down. He'd watched her walk out of his life. He'd made a mistake.

  "I've got the Quilliel" Gann shouted.

  Ian spun around. "Where?"

  "Twelve o'clock, and no more than a standard hour ahead."

  "They must have flown straight here. And at breakneck speed, too." The discovery told him two things: Tee knew exactly where she wanted to go. And she didn't want to be followed.

  Ian strode to where Gann sat: the pilot chair that had once been Tee's. "Contact them," he ordered. A triangular symbol on Gann's instrument panel represented the Quillie.

  "Quillie, this is the Sun Devil." Gann had to repeat the call several times before the women answered.

  "Quillie here. Go ahead." At Lara's voice the ketta-cat let out an indescribable sound that was half gurgle, half howl, and ran to the speaker. It circled in frustration, trying to get at the voice inside.

  "I know how you feel, cat," Gann grumbled.

  Ian demanded, "Tee, what the hell are you doing?"

  "This is Lara. Tee'ah asked me to speak in her place. She's commandeered the Quillie. That's all I'm allowed to say… and that we're both fine. Don't forget to feed Cat, Gann. Quillie, out."

  "Wait!" Ian shouted. But the channel was already closed. "We're both at sub-light speed. Download their route. I want to know where they're going."

  "They're headed for… Loss Ahn-gelleez," Gann said, reading his viewscreen.

  "Los Angeles?" His first thought was of Ilana. Tee had been intrigued by his description of his sister. He bet she was headed to L.A. thinking she'd found a kindred spirit. He was afraid she was right.

  He scrutinized the triangular symbol denoting Tee's ship. It was comprised of colors and numbers, two-dimensional, the opposite of the real woman, who was warm and loving, unpredictable and stubborn, the only person who'd ever made him feel like he was living life, not watching it happen all around him. Grab happiness when it dangles in front of you, his mother often told him. You don't always get a second chance. His neck tingled, and he closed his eyes, letting his mother's voice guide him.

  "With all due respect, Ian," Gann interrupted quietly from beside him. "A chance at happiness missed is an opportunity perhaps never repeated."

  Ian's eyes jolted open. Rom had once said Gann's senses were turned to an almost impossible level, but he hadn't said anything about the man being a mind reader. "Were you referring to yourself?" Ian asked as he turned around. "Or me?"

  Gann looked every inch the travel-weary space captain with too many solitary nights logged in. "Both."

  Ian studied him. Gann mourned the chances he'd never taken, regretting all he'd missed.

  What if they stopped missing chances? he thought suddenly. Then there wouldn't be any reason for regret, would there? Thoughtfully, Ian rubbed his chin. "I don't have to be in Washington until the day after tomorrow. There's a little time to play with."

  Gann's mouth quirked. "I await your orders," he said as he moved and his finger hovered over the destination icon for Los Angeles.

  Ian turned to the crew. "Anyone opposed to a little detour?"

  "No, sir," they chorused heartily.

  Ian's blood surged. He'd fix the problem on Earth, but first he'd fix the mistake he'd made with Tee. He was going to win her back.

  Moments later, they were on their way to Los Angeles. Ahead, the Quillie breezed past Interstellar customs with a thumbs-up from the infant agency Earth System Patrol and Customs, known as ES-PAC. But when the Sun Devil arrived at the checkpoint, the patrol ships denied them entry.

  Gann swore. "I don't believe this. Two women in a stolen ship breeze past ESPAC with a wink and a kiss, and we get pulled over?"

  "Bad luck again," Quin grumbled.

  "No," Ian said firmly. Everything he'd once taken for granted was up in the air, putting everything he cared about at risk. "From here on out, we're making our own luck."

  An ESPAC customs agent transmitted first in English and then in Basic. "Decelerate and prepare for boarding."

  "Yes, ma'am," Ian replied with a dangerous smile. The official had no idea what she was in for. This time he was pulling rank.

  Chapter Twenty

  With newly bought eye-shaders hiding their eyes, Tee'ah and Lara hurried through what the Earth dwellers called Los Angeles International Airport. The landing fee was exorbitant, explaining why there were n
o other merchant-class starships in residence, but Lara had paid the bill with funds borrowed from Gann's supply of credits. "He owes me more than that," she said matter-of-factlyr "I was hired to find you and bring you home. The way I see it, I'm doing what I was paid."

  Tee'ah squeezed her arm. Lara gave her a small grin then glanced away. No matter how hard she tried, Tee'ah doubted she'd ever be able to fully express how much this woman's help meant to her. This no-nonsense pilot from Baresh had aided her at the risk of losing her reputation and her starship, a craft Tee'ah sensed was the center of Lara's fierce independence. "I pray this doesn't keep you from retrieving your ship."

  Lara's mouth turned down. "Princess, some risks are worth the trouble and some aren't. Let's leave it at that."

  A man thrust a piece of paper into Lara's hands and walked away, speaking in English as he passed papers to others. "What does it say?" Lara asked. She handed the sheet to Tee'ah who input the runes into her hand-held translator.

  "Earth First," she read. "Boycott Vash-made goods." Uneasily, she glanced around the airport. Posters in store windows proclaimed, "Earth First." Some were racist in nature, portraying highborn Vash with exaggerated characteristics—amber-gold hair and skin, high cheekbones, long straight noses, and pale gold eyes. Some had whips in their hands, subjugating an unwilling human population.

  Anti-Federation sentiment had taken hold. For Ian's sake, Tee'ah hoped that it hadn't yet rooted too deep. Nonetheless, as a precaution, they didn't pause to look around, as much as Tee'ah would have liked.

  They approached a bank of comm boxes with viewscreens, from one of which Tee planned to contact Ilana. Reading English phonetically presented in Basic runes displayed on her translator, she chose one and told it, "Connect me to Ilana Hamilton." Nothing happened. She tried again, but the screen remained blank. Sighing, she sidestepped to the next comm box.

  A man using the comm device next to them leaned over. "These new picture phones are confusing if you've never used one before." He had black hair and almost black eyes, and his smile was brilliant against his smooth brown skin. They stared at him, enthralled.