Page 37 of Star Champion

Sir Klark listened to her story with a tight-lipped frown “The chance of that was zero.”

“Nico says it’s just posturing—that it’s normal in street bajha. But I still worry about him all the same. Migel Arran’s a crattin’ double-crosser and a bully, an arrogant cog coward of the worst sort. I’d rather spit on a silver than accept another from him, if ya want to know.” She took a heated breath.

“Tell us how you really feel, Kes.” Xirri’s eyes were shining as Skeet looked on with no small amount of awe.

Sir Klark pressed his fingertips together, bringing them to his chin. “Your status as Team Eireya’s newest recruit won’t allow for much free time in the coming days, and soon we will depart for further training. That’s reason enough to terminate your agreement with Arran.”

“Aye, but Nico’s got other players on his roster now. He wants to build his presence, something Arran doesn’t want him to do. Even if Arran accepts me going pro, my brother’s still at risk.”

“Your brother…” Sir Klark said. “I’d wondered, seeing a resemblance. The eye color. Green with the gold hue at the center. Unusual and striking.” Then he blinked and gave his head a shake, his jaw hardening. “Protecting one’s family must always be a priority.” He called out, “Con, summon a hovercar,” then pushed up from his chair. The players shoved back their chairs and stood. Following their lead, Jemm shot to her feet. “For safety’s sake, I’ll see you and your brother driven home tonight.”

CHAPTER12

The hovercar glidedup the street leading away from the docks. A yellow-orange pinprick of a glow bobbed in the shadows under the overhang of a building. “There he is,” Kes said, pointing.

They pulled up to a forlorn soul leaning against the crumbling wall, shoulders hunched against the dampness.

Nico aimed a cagey glare at the one-way windows of the vehicle, his vape pinched between his fingers, smoke curling into the damp night air. “How do I open this so he can see us?” Kes tapped on the window rapid-fire. But Klark was already leaning across the seat to touch the control, sending the panel sliding lower.

“Get in,” Kes said in a deep, stern tone, then laughed seeing Nico’s startled double-take.

“By the crattin’ dome,” Nico said, tossing the vape over his shoulder. “This beats walking any day.” With a broad grin, he climbed inside and craned his neck to take in every inch of the luxurious interior. The odors of sweat, vapes, blood, and liquor entered with him. The bruises and swelling on his face did not mask the wonder Klark saw there.

“Sir Klark gave me this salve, Nico. For your face, and anywhere else they got ya—”

The man made a derisive noise in his throat. “I don’t need no potions—but I thank ya all the same. I’ll heal the old-fashioned way.”

“You might have a point,” Klark said. “The ointment would take down the swelling, but if your nose is broken, it may need to be set before any cartilage fuses.”

Nico snorted then winced at the pain of doing so, his eyes watering. “I’ve broken it before. It’ll heal without any fussing.”

Kes slipped the tube back in her pocket. “Look at us, Nic. Did ya ever imagine we’d be in a flycar?”

Nico shifted his lopsided grin to Kes. “The owner of Team Eireya wouldn’t be giving us a ride back to the city if he wasn’t planning on signing ya.”

Kes smiled back. “It ain’t official yet, we’ll do the signing tomorrow when you can be there, but the offer’s been made and I’d like to accept.”

As the two Baréshtis hugged, Klark absorbed the happy sight. It made him look forward to meeting Migel Arran even more. “First, a detour. It won’t take long.”

One of his bodyguards was at the wheel. He acknowledged Klark’s verbal signal with a shared glance in the rearview mirror and then they were on the way to their first destination. While Klark was well-versed in nearly every known form of martial arts, bringing a Vedla bodyguard along as backup made sense. He wanted to keep his newest player safe from a man who had already demonstrated violence—a grave mistake he would soon learn.

“You can make as many detours as ya like; I’m just along for the ride,” Nico said. He had stretched out in the plush leather seat as if he had been riding in speeders all his life.

Soon the streets grew more crowded, the people and buildings cruder, the stench outside detectable even with the vehicle’s filtered air. “Ah, North City,” Nico said. “There’s Rumble. Where all this began.” His brows came up when the hovercar stopped in front of the bar. “You planning on going in? I don’t think I’m Arran’s man of the moment.”

Kes searched Klark’s face with a worried narrowing of the eyes. “This ain’t a good idea.”

“If you’d rather wait behind in the hovercar, I prefer it—”

“Not a chance,” the siblings argued.

“It was me who was playing here,” Kes said. “I should handle him.”

“I’ll allow you to formally end your agreement, such as it is, but if there’s any handling to be done, I’m best positioned for the task.”

Kes frowned. “Ya don’t know how it works on Barésh. Arran won’t forget his threats against Nico just because ya asked him to. He’ll wait until we’ve gone away and hunt him down.”

“Psshh.” Nico waved a hand. “I ain’t afraid of that cog.”

---