Page 87 of Star Champion

“Gangster?” Ma almost shrieked.

“Crag it.” Nico’s face darkened with an urgency she had not seen before. He pivoted on his heels, armed himself with an illegal knife slid in a holster inside his shirt, and shoved back out through the door.

Jemm, Ma, and Klark thundered down the stairwell in hot pursuit, calling out for Button. But the child was nowhere in sight. Jemm’s mouth felt so dry she couldn’t swallow. It horrified her to think she had brought the perils of street bajha home. Her loved ones would suffer because of her ambition. Her dreams had put them all in danger. Her deepest fears had come true.

“I knew this would happen,” Ma said, making Jemm wince and hammering home her fears. “I knew the bajha would be back to steal away what’s mine. It’s what happened to your Da.”

“Da did not die because of bajha,” Jemm snapped as they rounded another landing.

“Aye, he did. He was an up-and-coming player. A real star here in the colony. Everyone loved Badlands Fire. He wanted to play for another club and quit the one where he started. The next day, some men accosted him in the mines. They broke his shin bone with a metal rod to punish him and teach him a lesson.”

Their steps faltered. “How do ya know that, Ma?” Jemm asked carefully, exchanging a distressed glance with Klark.

“Your Da told me. He said he would never let any club gangsters hold him back. He intended to go back to playing as soon as he was healed. He was determined to take us off-world, that fool. That fool dreamer of a man. But infection set in, and no potion, no amount of love, could bring him back.”

“Oh, Ma…” This was why her mother despised bajha. Who could blame her? “Why didn’t ya ever say anything? Why’d ya keep it secret all these years?”

She shook her head, her lips pursed with old pain. “It doesn’t matter. I’m telling ya now so ya know what you’re up against.”

Nico flew down the stairs so fast now that Ma lagged behind. The sound of their boots was explosive in the stairwell. After five floors, they reached the building’s midsection and spilled out into the open air. “Button!” Klark called out, then Nico did the same, their shouts reverberating from column to column across the enormous round terrace.

The answering yowl of a ketta-cat echoed across the space. Ditsi darted past the frantic group, leading their gazes to the small form of a child standing near the edge of nothing, the breeze strong as it lifted her hair. In a pair of tiny but strong hands was a sens-sword as long as she was tall.

Da’s sens-sword.

Jemm almost collapsed with relief. Klark’s comforting hand found the small of her back and steadied her. “Thank the Great Mother,” he murmured.

In Button’s wide-open eyes was a twinkle of defiance to go with the fear and guilt there. Jemm had always seen Kish in her, but in that moment, she saw her brother, too. “You’re going away, Mum-mum. If I play bajha, I can go with ya.”

“You thought if ya played you could come along?” Jemm managed, her throat thick.

“Aye!”

Jemm started forward but Nico pushed past her. He closed the distance with purposeful strides. He snatched Button up, stripping her of the sens-sword. Their joined form was silhouetted against the expanse of the city spread out below, the edge only steps away. Nico’s hard back and shoulders quaked. “I’m sorry, Button. I’m sorry.” A single, raw sob pierced the quiet as he held her to him.

Button was stiff in Nico’s arms. Her confused and anxious eyes found Jemm’s over her father’s shoulder.

Jemm encouraged her with a nod and a tender, teary smile.He’s your Da. All ya have to do is love him back.

On Chéyasenn, Jemm emerged from the pool after an endurance-building swim. From where she stood, drying off with a towel, she glimpsed Ma sitting on a bench next to the hiking path, where she had taken to looking out at the sea of trees daily, her gaze sometimes sad. She wished Da were with her, Jemm knew.

Family members from both sides had gathered temporarily on Chéyasenn—Klark’s sister Kat, Ma, Button, and Uncle Yul. Only Nico stayed behind on Barésh, out of necessity. He could not yet trust anyone to manage his clubs in his absence. He never found an explanation for the red-bearded man, but it led him back to Migel Arran, and ended with them deciding it was time they joined forces. Jemm could not believe Nico wanted to work with that dozer dandy. His name alone was enough to get her hackles up.

But Nico had convinced her to stand down, saying that Arran was not interested in flexing his considerable muscle. Arran even came to bid her farewell the day she and Klark left, along with hundreds of other well-wishers—a rowdy and unlikely crowd of trill rats, compound cogs, and Earth-dwellers.

The iridescent pomade Arran used on his hair and brows was more subdued than she remembered, and he appeared just as fit. But his high starched collar and trill-threaded ear were just as gaudy. “I watched all your matches, Sea Kestrel. Seeing you play galactically, watching you take down those elites, it was a sight to see. If I hadn’t discovered you, where would you be now?”

“Discovered me?” she had scoffed.Ya couldn’t discover your nose if it were pasted to your face.

“Joking,” he said, his shoulders coming up in a self-effacing shrug. “I know the true story. But I still like knowing I paid you your first silvers earned playing. I like that my club Rumble is known as the place you started your career. Black Hole still plays for me on Fourthnights. He bills himself as Sea Kestrel’s first bajha opponent, and draws crowds because of it. Look, I’m sorry we were at cross purposes for a long time. If we can put that in the past, I’d be happy. I come from humble beginnings like you and Nico. Once a trill rat, always a trill rat. You know us Baréshtis, we’re born to fight. We’re born fighting and we fight to keep from dying.”

“And fight every day in-between,” she said, reciting the old saying.

“Like everyone else I’ve had to fight to hold on to what I have. It’s not to say I’ve made mistakes along the way. Twelve clubs. It’s not easy.” He had looked to Nico then. “I hope you’ll consider my proposal. A partnership would make us unbeatable in this colony.”

A grin creased Nico’s face and the two former adversaries shook hands on whatever they were soon to cook up. Then Arran nodded at Jemm, his smile charming in the way it never was when he thought she was a lad. “I’ll watch for you in the Galactic Cup finals, Sea Kestrel. Good luck.”

“Thank you, Mr. Arran.”

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