Page 8 of Star Champion

“Snatched back from those B’kahs.” Toren’s eyes twinkled. “Now that would be fine, indeed.”

“It’s still the preseason, of course. There are many months to go, and much work yet to do, but the players are strong. Skeet, Xirri, G’Zanna, and others.”

“How strong?” A female voice rang out as clear as a prayer bell. Before Klark realized what was happening, his youngest sister had glided though the open doors into his suite. She lifted his sens-sword from its case, holding it out in front of her, her silken slippers planted wide. “Not very strong, I don’t think. This sword is not at all heavy—”

“Kat, put it away,” Klark scolded, but she aimed it at him with mischief in her eyes. “Katjian.Now. Bajha is not for princesses.”

Klark and Ché had at turns caused their parents angst, but he swore that the youngest of the four Vedla siblings was going to prove his parents’ undoing; she was nowhere near as quiet and compliant as her elder sister.

Pouting, Katjian replaced the sens-sword. Councilman Toren used the moment tactfully to end his visit. He bowed to Klark, “Good day, Your Highness.” Then he did the same for Katjian. “And to you, Your Highness.”

“Con, secure the doors,” Klark called out after Toren exited the suite. His quarters felt more like a busy starport than a private apartment the way visitors were coming and going. Turning, he lifted a brow at his baby sister.

Sunlight pouring into the suite lit up the braids of the princess’s ornately woven hair and turned them fiery red blonde. She was fairer in coloring than both Ché and Klark but still undeniablyVashin appearance with her tawny skin and pale golden eyes. Of his two sisters, she was the prettier, although both girls’ beauty turned heads. Ten standard years younger than he was, at seventeen she would be married off within a few years to live out her life on her husband’s homeworld.

“Why isn’t it?”

“Why isn’t what?” Klark held back from snatching the sens-sword away, closing the case only after she had rested the sens-sword properly in its brackets with a dose of respect he did not expect.

“Why isn’t bajha for princesses?”

How did she think of such questions? “Because it isn’t for females.”

“Butwhy?”

“Bajha is no ordinary sport. It is a path for noblemen to reach a higher state of consciousness,” he added, certain another “why?” was forthcoming. Her persistence was legendary in the family. Katjian had been tagging along after him and Ché since she had learned to walk. A governess was always racing after her to snatch her back in those younger years. She pestered him less now that she was older and busy with the various and sundry things royalVashwoman kept busy with. Sometimes he missed her heartfelt attempts to be part of his life, but she must follow the path set for her, as did all the Vedlas. “We practice bajha to improve intuition, instinct, and discipline. Such are a warrior’s essential skills that a man can put to use in all areas of his life.”

“That’s stupid.” Katjian dragged a fingertip along the rim of the case. “No man is actually a warrior anymore. They just play at being one.”

“Notplay. Hone. Refine. If we do not practice the art of the warrior, we lose it. To lose such skills is to invite catastrophe. Kat, you’re a Vedla; you should know this more than anyone. It was our family that allowed the warlords to topple our ancestral throne. Our family’s failings at leadership that sent the galaxy into the Dark Years. It was a complete collapse of civilization.” It was not out of the ordinary for his family to discuss events that occurred eleven thousand years ago as if they had happened yesterday.

“I know all that.” Katjian’s eyes flashed with a certain, glowering vexation that reminded him a little too much of his own. “I may be a female but I can read. I read the Treatise of Trade. I know our family history.”

“Ouruniquehistory. Our ancestors survived near-extinction, a focused effort to murder every last one of us.” There was no question their clan’s blood was superior to all the rest. Those purist views led him to take action in support of his family that went awry. In some circles, Vedla circles, he was considered a hero. Most everyone else saw him as a menace. Granted, he went too far, and both he and his family paid the price, but other clans simply did not grasp what it meant to be a Vedla. “Passed down from generation to generation is our need to keep our clout intact so that no one will ever again become powerful enough to harm us. Never allow complacency. Be—”

“Vigilant in all things,” she finished reciting for him. “I know.”

“It’s why we Vedla men must never again let down our guard.”

“Or Vedla women. If the pregnant Queen Keera and young Prince Chéya did not escape the warlords, there would be no Vedlas at all. Likely noVash Nadah, either.”

He acknowledged that truth with a nod. Like her, he was well-versed in the Treatise of Trade.

“From a woman’s body comes life. Because of this, she must be protected, respected, worshipped. This is what the Great Mother expectsof men, has always expected of men. She is a femaledeity, after all, overseeing the mortal world andthat of the Ever After. From Her womb sprang the original civilization that spawned all humankind.”

“I see that you are determined to turn this into a history lesson, dear brother, and thus it is pointless to continue this discussion. There is nothing in the Treatise of Trade that forbids women from becoming warriors. I know. I’ve looked.”

“The very idea of a female competing in bajha is ludicrous. Would you wear men’s clothing? Would you train to be a warrior rather than a wife and mother?”

Her wide eyes considered each outrageous possibility for seconds too long. “No,” she replied quietly. Then she seemed to waver. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know? How can you not know?” How much time had she spent talking to Ilana, their brother’s Earth-born wife? Earth, the newest addition to the Trade Federation, was an unorthodox world that had shaken up their ancient society in myriad ways. Now one of their unconventional citizens was family. To his surprise, he had grown fond of Ilana; she was courageous and full of life, and yet disciplined when she needed to be—a good match for his brother. But, fearing what Katjian would say, he did not ask the question. Better to run damage control than try to reverse what was already done. “We’ve entered an era of change. It has rocked the values of theVash Nadah, this we know. But, by the heavens, Katjian, if we Vedlas don’t uphold some semblance of normalcy and remain the guardians of tradition, who will?”

“That’s why I came to you today and no one else, Klark.” She made a face, then gazed up at him with shimmering golden eyes. “Please convince me my feelings are wrong. Because if anyone can do that, it’s you.”

“What feelings?” he asked. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t want to disobey Mother or Father; I don’t want to make them unhappy, but…” She sighed. “I have no real say about anything in my life—and I hate it. I feel trapped.”

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