Page 21 of Star Prince

She fought an evil urge to say, “Whiskey.” Instead she pointed to her stained, ill-fitting outfit. “I need new uniforms, extra clothing, and a way to replace the toiletries I left on my ship.”

“Understood. I’ll take you after breakfast.”

She stared at him as he stood and strode away, uncertain what she had gotten herself into. The Earth-dweller was an enigma, like no one she had ever known or been exposed to. Certainly he was up to no good. Danger and excitement were a way of life for him.

And it appeared she was going along for the ride.

“Isthis the way you treat your best repo pilot?” a woman shouted in an accent he could not place. “Wait. I’m youronlyrepo pilot. I want what you owe me. Now, you craggin’ dozer. Every last blasted credit!”

Gann Truelénne stood in the shadows outsidea faded tent in a row of seedy shops on Donavan’s Blunder. He had journeyed here immediately after leaving Rom and Jas on Sienna, intent on questioning the cloaker who had tried to help Princess Tee’ah camouflage her speeder. But from within the tent, an argument raged.

“Lara, there’s no money left to recover your ship. None. Dar security fined me into oblivion. But I’ll make good on what I owe you; I swear it. Give me more time.”

“Give?” The woman spat the words with contempt. “I don’t give anything to anyone. Not even you, Eston. You know that.” The female’s tone turned sullen. “I needed the credits to pay the landing fees on that disgusting slag heap, Kabasten. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have been there. Now they’ve impounded my ship!Crat, Eston, it’s the only thing I have, and you know it.”

Gann detected a slight thickening in the woman’s accented voice. “Where am I supposed to go?” she asked. “How am I supposed to make a living now? Eston, tell me, ya crattin’ rock roach!”

Something heavy crashed to the floor and shattered. Gann winced.

“Lara—”

“The next one will hit the target; I swear it, aye,” the female said in a hiss. “All this happened because you helped that spoiled littleVash Nadaharisto.How could you?”

Against his better judgment, Gann pushed aside the tentflap and walked in. Broken pottery crunched under his boots. “Good day to you.” Smiling, he glanced around the disorganized tent, looking for hints, items of clothing, anything that might indicate that the princess had been there.

“Upper classcog.”

The woman, Lara, had directed her remark at him. Her honey brown eyes full of fire, her chest heaving, she glared at him. Her voice was low and venomous. “I despise theVash.Every…last…one.”

Her ferocity caught Gann off guard. At forty-five standard years, he had seen his share of the darker side of life; he had fought in an unpopular, protracted war—the only conflict since the inception of theVash Nadah—and subsequently accompanied its instigator, Rom B’kah, into exile. Gann was no stranger to bitterness and anger in all their forms. But never had he seen hatred displayed with such intensity and passion as that expressed by this woman. Which was truly saddening, for apart from her animosity she was fascinating to behold. What a waste that such a beauty could be filled with such ill will.

From nearby, the cloaker’s cheery voice shattered the awkwardness in the room. “Good day to you, sir,” he sang out, his expression eager. “Do you need your ship cloaked, perhaps?”

“Let’s just say that I need your expertise.”

“Expertise, my eye.” The woman’s mouth dippedin a sneer as she looked him over from head to boots. Stripped naked, he doubted he would have felt more exposed to her scrutiny.

She leaned against one of the support poles, her arms folded over her chest. Although her skin was as smooth as a twenty-year-old girl’s, her eyes looked eighty. He would place her age somewhere in between—mid-thirties, he guessed, a good decade younger than himself. Her black one-piece outfit was utilitarian and unisex, like her tawny neck-length hair, a contrast to the dainty jewelry sparkling on her ears and wrists. “So…theVash Nadahdidn’t extort enough credits from Eston their first time,” she taunted. “They had to send you back for more. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Admit it,Vash.”

Gann decided to ignore the moody little fireball. To his mild amusement, he saw that it infuriated her. “TheVashwoman you were fined for helping is a runaway,” he told the cloaker. “Her family fears for her welfare and sent me here on their behalf so that they may be reunited with her swiftly and safely. I’m not here to punish you or to coerce you, but to reward you.”

The woman named Lara choked out a laugh.

“Generously,” Gann said, as if he hadn’t heard. “If youcooperate and give me information leading to where I can find the woman.” One by one he laid currency cards on the cloaker’s desk until the equivalent of five thousand credits fanned out over the alloy top.It would be a dizzying sum. A sum not to be refused, he hoped.

Lara blinked at the pile of credits, golds and silvers mostly. Gann was confident there were more credits in that pile than she had seen in her entire life. In the next instant, she extinguished her awe with indifference and stalked over to a tock brewer to pour a steaming cup.An intricately patterned silver band slid down her wrist. The workmanship was exquisite and matched the braided ring adorning her left ear. She shared one thing in common with him at least—attention to detail.

She sipped silently, her slender back toward him. “Don’t waste your time, Eston,” she snarled. “I’d trust a desert snake before I’d trust aVash Nadah.”

Eston cast her a distraught glance before he regarded Gann with ravenous interest. “I may be able to help you, sir,” he said.

“Excellent.” Gann allocated a thousand more to his cause. Eston swallowed hard. There were times when Rom’s bottomless fortune came in handy. “You informed Dar security that the woman disappeared off planet while you labored aboard her speeder. Is that true?”

“Don’t you dare accuse us of lying.” The woman’s voice squeezed out past her gritted teeth. She strode to the tent flap and shoved it open, allowing a steamy, sickly-smelling breeze to seep inside. “You don’t belong in the frontier. None of you uppityVashdo. Go!”

“Lara, please,” Eston beseeched her.

Great Mother, how could he have pitied himself over being sent on a mission to retrieve a petulant princess? Things could be much worse— he could be a bankrupt cloaker, like Eston, stuck with Miss Sunshine here for company. “I don’t believe your partner feels the same as you, Lara,” hedrawled.

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