Page 27 of Star Champion

Arriving at Star Tube J, she found a checkpoint staffed by a couple of security guards passing the time playing cards. Behind them waited Sir Klark’s craft. Like its owner,Chéya’s Resolutewas sleek and hard, and luxurious in the way the other working ships were not. The ship’s name was painted in Federation Basic as all vessels’ names were, but underneath the name was a line of exotic characters in a fluid font she guessed was the ancient language of his homeworld. His family went all the way back to the earliest days of recorded history, chronicled in the Treatise of Trade itself, the most important document in the galaxy. In contrast, her family history could pretty much be summed up by the bajha suit she wore.

She ran a hand over her suit, the patchwork of repairs, the oldest of which were stitched carefully, her mother’s tiny stitches made with love for her husband. The later repairs after Jemm took over wearing the suit in secret and was forced to do any mending herself were rough and uneven. It was no secret she drove tugs a lot better than she could sew.

She cleared her throat. The dozers looked up, their faces immediately showing wariness and then mocking curiosity. She squared her shoulders, acting like she belonged here, and deserved to be here, and thrust out a hand with the security card Sir Klark had given her. From there, it all went downhill.

CHAPTER8

Klark drummedimpatient fingers on his thigh. His focus swung between watching Skeet and Xirri drill to the viewscreen linked to the security camera at the top of the gangway to the ship.

Was Sea Kestrel going to show or not? His mind concocted all sorts of disastrous directions the evening could take. Was his favorable opinion of the manager correct? The man was young, eager, clever, but also streetwise and slum-smart. While Klark trusted his instincts, there was always the possibility he had erred giving the man the gold credit. Nico Aves could very well pocket it and, along with Sea Kestrel, disappear, never to be seen again.

No. Deep down he knew otherwise. The player would be here. The fiery hope he saw in Sea Kestrel’s eyes matched what he felt about this venture. His underdog, his diamond in the rough, wanted this chance as much as he wanted to offer it to him—andthe amateur seemed to possess the pluck and determination to defy his manager-handler if need be.

But if not? Klark drained a glass of ion-infused water then frowned. The thought of returning to the palace and abandoning this venture was too disheartening too consider.

“Your Highness.”

Klark practically jumped out of his chair at the voice. One of his starpilots was centered in the viewscreen. “I have Barésh port security on the flight-deck comm. They say they’ve apprehended a bandit trying to sneak aboard our vessel.”

“A bandit?” The gangway vid feed displayed nothing but the empty ramp in the glow of a floodlight. “Where?”

“They’ve detained him at the checkpoint. But they wanted to inform us of the fact before taking him into custody. Because if it is a bandit, Your Highness, according to their description he’s dressed for bajha.”

Damnation. Klark pushed to his feet. “That’s Sea Kestrel.”

“Shall I send you the checkpoint vid feed?”

“Yes. By all means.”

Skeet and Xirri emerged from the ring, towels looped around the necks only to laugh in incredulous delight as they joined Klark in staring at a soundless vid of Sea Kestrel resisting what appeared to be an attempt by port security officers to frisk him.

Kes stood taller than both men, but the balance of power was not in his favor. A surge of protectiveness set Klark’s blood to boiling. “This is completely, unequivocally unacceptable.”

With his starpilot hot on his heels, he pounded down the gangway and into the star tube, driven by a pure need to safeguard both his plans to repair and boost his family’s standing in the Trade Federation and the street player on which all those plans hinged.

“I said, put your hands out!” The guard held a set of handcuffs to slap on Jemm.

She was smart enough to keep her arms pressed to her sides. “What for? I didn’t do nothing.”

The leader of the two shook his head. “What about that gear ya got there, lad? You didn’t come by it honestly.”

“Aye, I did. It’s mine. My father gave it to me.”

“That’s another charge against you. It’s a capital offense in this colony to use a sens-sword.”

“It ain’t against the law for playing bajha. I told ya, that’s why I’m here.”

“A bajha match on a starship?”

True that it sounded unreal to have a starship with a fight ring, but aVash Nadahcould have anything they wanted, wherever they wanted. “Call Sir Klark Vedla if ya don’t believe me.”

“That won’t be necessary. I am here.” TheVashstormed toward Jemm and the cluster of security cogs. Charcoal-gray workout pants covered his long legs; a shirt of the same hi-tech material molded to the musculature of his arms and chest. Behind him was a starpilot, resplendent in a crisp indigo-blue flight suit with sparkling silver piping and matching silver wings on his left chest. They looked like avenging gods compared to the dozers manning the checkpoint. It was like summoning a rescue from the Ever After itself. All that was missing were the trumpets and billowing clouds.

Sir Klark’s terrifying gold eyes were searing hot with fury, yet at the same time he came across as chillingly calm when he stopped in front of her. “Are you all right? Have they harmed you?”

“I don’t know what they would’ve done, sir. But I’m fine.” Her voice, forced deeper, came out husky as she wiped a damp hand on her thigh.

He whirled on the guards. “What is the meaning of this?”

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