Page 31 of Star Champion

With her sens-sword gripped in frayed, worn-out gloves, Jemm followed him into the ring. No emotion crossed the studied calm of her face.

“Raff—catch.” Sir Klark tossed Xirri a blindfold.

“What’s this for, sir?” the pro asked, startled.

“If we’ve a street bajha player as our guest, we might as well warm up with a game of street bajha.”

“What?” Xirri looked to Skeet for help, but his team captain was laughing too hard.

“It’ll take more than blindfolds,” Jemm argued. “We’ll need noise, like loud music and people—talking, cheering, stomping. But we need an audience for that.”

“Great idea!” Skeet grinned. “We can import the crowd from the arcade across the street from the docks.”

“Negative,” Sir Klark said. “Con,” he called out. “Summon all crewmembers not involved with official duties or who aren’t on required rest to the arena.”

“Summoning all off-duty nonessential crewmembers,” the controller droned in reply.

Skeet laughed harder. Xirri spread his hands. “Sir.”

“Don’t whine, Xirri,” Skeet said. “It’s not attractive.”

Xirri mouthed something foul at his teammate, Jemm guessed, then lifted the flexible helmet worn for regulation play over his head. “I’ll take that.” Sir Klark reached for the helmet.

“Now I know you’re kicking me to the curb, sir,” Xirri said with a laugh. “You’re going to let a street bajha player melt the hair off my head.”

“Not at all. You’ll both play with sens-swords at level one.” Then theVashspoke to the ceiling. “Con, play Bonali strings quartet, third orchestration.” A melody came over the sound system that caused pleasure to suffuse Sir Klark’s face. “That should do nicely.”

Jemm choked down a laugh. “If ya want to put a babe to sleep, maybe. In this case ya might as well not have anything.”

“It’s one of his favorites,” Xirri said under his breath.

“Perhaps,” Sir Klark conceded. “But not, apparently, the appropriate choice here. What music do you suggest, Kes?”

“Thump. That’s what’s played in all the bars and clubs. It’s digital. You heard it last night. It goes thump, thump, thump.”

Xirri clutched his chest. “Like your heartbeat right before you flatline.”

“The songs differ depending what tune is layered on top of the base beat. They lower it for the matches, but not too much. In case anyone wants to dance.”

“I couldn’t tell with all the booing and ketta-cat calling,” Sir Klark said dryly. “Controller, search archives for thump music.”

“Searching…searching. I have found one selection of thump music. It is a sample. It is seventeen seconds in length. Shall I play it?”

“Not long enough. Whew!” Xirri said.

“Con,” Sir Klark said. “Play sample selection of thump music. Infinite repeat.” His lips quirked in the barest of smiles. “Survivable decibel level.”

“I do not understand: survivable decibel level.”

“Level five, please,” he told the controller. The music began.

By now, members of the crew were filing in. Skeet waved them in. “Come one and all. Take a seat anywhere. Tonight only, free admission.”

Xirri gaped at the spectacle then rolled his eyes. “Sir, you’re not really serious about having us play with the lights up and all this noise.”

“Of course I am. How else will I simulate street bajha? You’re an excellent player, Raff. One of my best. A little distraction is nothing you can’t handle.”

Klark tried to imagine thump music coming through the palace speakers.What would Uncle Yul think? The mere thought generated a laugh. When did he let out an honest laugh while at the palace? Not often. Here, far from home, he was enjoying himself, and had been since arriving on Barésh, despite some of the unsavory qualities that made this rock, well, Barésh. It was all a far cry from the dry, dull, all-too similar days at the palace.

---