Page 7 of Star Prince

“Anytime,” she said, softer.

He reached for the viewscreen, then dropped his hand. “I owe you big time. And don’t tell RomorMom that I called. I want to take care of this myself.”

“Okay.” She blew him a kiss. “Be careful out there,” she murmured, then she signed off.

Rom had approved a mission for Ian to see what was happening in the frontier, not to chase after an Earth senator. “Quin,” he called over his shoulder. “When you have a chance, redo the encryption on our comm.”

“But, sir,” Quin said, “it was done before we left Sienna. His Majesty B’kah’s chief mechanic is an expert in the security field.”

“That’s the whole point. My stepfather knows the codes.” If there was a way for the king to find him, the umbilical cord was still attached. This was something he wanted to achieve on his own. “We’re about to take a little detour. It’s best no one knows about it but us.”

The ship felt suddenly claustrophobic. Ian pushed himself off the chair and tiredly tucked his shirt into his jeans. “I’m heading out for a while,” he told themen. “Call me on the comm if any pilots come knocking on our door, begging for work.” He checked his utility belt for his weapon and sunglasses, then left in search of a likely establishment for a glass of iced tock.The weird minty-licorice tasting beverage passed for coffee everywhere but Earth.

Not much happened on Blunder before the middle of the afternoon. He would use the quiet hours to reformulate his strategy now that it appeared his nemesis was coming to him. But as soon as the streets filled at sunset, he vowed to find someone capable of flying him off this stinking rock.

There was a decidedswagger in Tee’ah’s stiff, too-long-on-a-ship gait as she strode down the gangway of her starspeeder. The air on Donavan’s Blunder was thick, almost suffocating, and the sun’s intense heat seared through the fabric of her brother’s unseasonable black shirt and pants. She would have been far more comfortable in her flight suit, but with the Dar fleet likely on her tail, armed with the description of her clothing the lieutenant would have given them, she couldn’t risk being recognized. She donned her cap, now stripped of its wing-shaped emblem, and ducked under the shadow of the speeder. Her boots crunched on the hard, bleached dirt as she took in the bustling spaceport, marveling at the sheer volume of people. The scents of dust, food, and decay, the thunder of ships roaringoverhead and merchants shouting, slammed into her, making her senses whirl wondrously. Filling her lungs with hot, rocket fume-laden air, she tasted freedom with every breath.

“Donavan’s Blunder,” she said on an exhalation. The name was legendary, conjuring images of danger and adventure. Her uncle, Romlijhian B’kah, a legend in his own right, once dismissed Blunder as a rather notorious but necessary stop on the far-flung trade routes of the frontier. But to her, a woman raised within the custodial elegance of aVashcastle, the port was exotic, exciting. Glamorous. How far she had veered from her ordained path, a destiny she had never questioned until her uncle married Jasmine Hamilton, the most fascinating individual she had ever known. The woman flew star-speeders and acted as freely as her ruler husband.

A starcruiser roared overhead, reminding Tee’ah quite starkly that as soon as the storm passed, her father would have dispatched his security forces to find her. Certainly one contingent would have been sent to search the major ports in the frontier, and if they hadn’t already searched Donavan’s Blunder, they certainly would soon. This was no time to act like an awestruck tourist.

She tugged her cap over her eyes and set her jaw. Fighting dizziness and the beginnings of a headache triggered by sensory overload, she left the speeder behind, limping across the plaza to the crowded market where she was sure to find a cloaker. Thecrew of theProsperhad often talked about their travels. From those tales of adventure Tee’ah had learned about obtaining the illegal services of a cloaker, a specialist who could “disguise” a vessel by hacking in and scrambling the identifying codes it transmitted when queried by space controllers or other ships. As long as her ship was virtually screamingI’m a stolen speeder piloted by a runaway princess,she had a starberry blossom’s chance in winter of making it off Blunder without her father’s knowledge. A cloaker would change all that, allowing her to traverse the galaxy as just another run-of-the-mill ship.

Heat rose from the dirt. Ahead, a row of ramshackle buildings undulated like palace banners in the morning breeze. As she neared, the illusion solidified into tents with frayed canvas flaps for doors. Although a lot of money flowed in and out of the port, it wasn’t apparent in the area’s architecture. She suspected that those who profited here funneled their illegally gained wealth off planet to where it would be safe from thievery andVashseizures.

She chose the nearest tent. Pushing past a musty tarp she walked inside, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the dimly lit, stuffy interior. A man who looked as though he hadn’t slept in weeks lowered the cup from which he had been drinking. “Yes, lad?” His breath held the sharp scent of liquor.

“Can you tell me where I can find a cloaker?” she whispered.

He pointed unsteadily with his cup. “That way.” Clear liquid sloshed onto the dusty floor. “Second shop from the end.”

“Thanks.” She exchanged the oppressive heat of the tent for the sharp glare of the sunbaked street. She infused her steps with confidence she didn’t quite feel, but she was stared at nonetheless; strangers were noticed on the Blunder.

Some in the mostly male crowd looked mean, their eyes hard. Others showed signs of disease—pockmarks, bowed limbs, or colds with coughs and reddened noses—none of which she had seen before. If advanced medical technology reached all corners of the galaxy, as theVashFederation claimed, then why was it not evident here?

A wisp of a breeze teased the tarnished wind chimes dangling from the beamed ceiling of a café. The delicate melody lingered and seemed out of place. Longingly she gazed at a glass of iced tockin the sole patron’s hand. Then a glint of silver dragged her attention to the man’s face. He was wearing mirrored eyeshaders! No one wore shaders anymore. They hadn’t been popular for thousands of years, not since the advent of optic implants. But they somehow fit the trader, right down to his fair skin and odd-colored dark hair, a rich nut brown.

Tee’ah slowed, curiosity overcoming her. The exotic stranger noticed, warily twisting around on his stool. He glanced over his shaders with greenish eyes as brilliant as gems. An Earth-dweller! Justseeing someone from the provincial and stubbornly independent frontier world, close enough to touch, was thrilling proof that she was far, far from home.

The man gave her a brief nod, the kind one traveler might give another, and then went back to his tock.Almost reluctantly she resumed her pace, leaving the café behind.

“What do we have here?” she heard someone say.

She jerked her attention up from the dusty street. A lanky merchant with intense, intelligent eyes scrutinized her from the shade of an awning. “A genuine intersystem cargo pilot cap you’re wearing there,” he noted. “Minus the emblem. Where’s the rest of your pretty uniform?”

Unease fluttered in her belly, and instinct urged her to run. Pride kept her from doing so. She dismissed her admirer with a nod but he caught up to her, matching her strides.

She halted with one hand on the tent flap to the cloaker’s shop. “I have business to attend to,” she said crisply.

He peered under the brim of her cap and his eyes sparked with surprise. Whether it was because he had discovered she was female, or that she had the classic features of her class, she wasn’t sure, but he didn’t ask the question she saw on his face.

“Well, the plot thickens,” he murmured. “Nice ship you have there. Looks fast.”

“She is that.” With wistful pride, Tee’ah glanced backward over her shoulder. The distant speeder’sfuselage glowed painfully bright in the sun. “Sub-light-speed at only twenty-five percent thrust.”

“Impressive. Bet you’d like to keep her.”

Her heart stopped. “What?”

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