Page 35 of Star Prince

Ian swore. Instead of being able to coolly observe the men from the shadows until he was ready to introduce himself, he was standing front-and-center on a stage in the middle of the bar.

Beautiful.

Hawk-faced, silver-haired, tall and blue-eyed, U.S. Senator Charlie Randall drew the attention of every patron in the bar. The conversation ebbed aseveryone gave him a curious glance. But no one on Grüma remained surprised for long, and the noise resumed immediately.

“You must think of this as an opportunity, not an ordeal.”Tee’s words echoed inside him. Yeah. He ought to turn the tables on Randall, get him onstage while he returned to his seat. Then he would be able to see how the senator acted under pressure. Rom B’kah often said that there was nothing like a little stress to bring out an individual’s true colors.

An oddly appropriate song sprang into Ian’s mind. This time he sang in English.

“Yankee Doodle went to Grüma,A-riding on a pony. Tucked some coffee in his jeans and called it macaroni.”

Randall swunghis silver-haired head in Ian’s direction. Narrowing his eyes, he regarded Ian with a stare that would have intimidated anyone not already used to similar looks from powerful men. He had gotten more than a few from the more intrigue-prone and distrustfulVash Nadahroyals, so Ian didn’t flinch.

“Yankee Doodle keep it up,

Yankee Doodle dandy.

You’re the new Earth-dweller on the block

And feet-first in my territory.”

Okay,so the rhyme sucked eggs, but his goal was to put Randall on the spot, not win a talent contest. Ian grinned and aimed the mike at Randall. The crowd roared and again began to chant, “Earth-dweller, Earth-dweller.”

The senator glanced around helplessly. His followers visibly recoiled. Then a merchant at a nearby table tugged impatiently on Randall’s sleeve, gesturing to the stage. Another gave him a nudge.

Shoulders sagging with the inevitability of it all, the senator marched to the front of the bar. His blue eyes were more penetrating in person than they were on television. “You’re American,” he said, snatching the mike from Ian’s hand.

“Yep.”

“You’re also a pain in the ass. You owe me a drink after this, young man.”

Ian shrugged then returned to his table where his cheering crew waited.

“You can’t sing,” Tee said.

“I never said I could.”

“Ah, but you were wonderful!”

With her face flushed with happiness, her beauty radiating from deep within, she came across as utterly sweet and unspoiled…and more out of place in the frontier than ever. He fought the impulsive urge to wrap his arm around her waist and draw her close, not only to shield her from the undisciplined mob, but to feel her warm and soft against him. Luckily, Randall’s singing brought him back from the edge of doing something entirely inappropriate.

The senator had a reasonable grasp of Basic, and the crowd guffawed good-naturedly at his mangled version of a common jingle. When he relinquished the stage to the next participant, with his two companions in tow, he strode to where Ian stood. “Where’s my drink, kid?”

Ian tossed Quin some credits and dispatched the man for a round of ale. A few extra chairs were pulled up and the entire group sat together.

Ian stuck out his hand. “Stone,” was all he said. His hair was longer than he usually wore it and he purposefully sported a few days’ worth of stubble. He doubted the senator would recognize him.

“Senator Charlie Randall,” the man said as they shook hands.

“A U.S. senator in this godforsaken place? What brings you here?”

“Fact-finding,” he replied in English to Ian’s Basic. He leaned over the table and lowered his voice. “I’ve seen things that would curl your hair.”

Barésh.“Yeah? Like what?”

Smugly, the man spread his suntanned hands on the table. In an open-necked powder-blue polo shirt, the prominent American senator looked more likely to play a few rounds of golf than turn the balance of the galaxy on its ear. “All isn’t as it seems in theVashEmpire,” he said cryptically. Then he smiled, drawing out the moment, enjoying Ian’s patent interest. “That is what I was told, now I’ve seen it formyself. Let’s just say I intend to bring home with me a little enlightenment regarding that fact.”

Like hell you will.Ian was certain Rom B’kah knew nothing of Barésh. He would never stand for such conditions. On the other hand, if places like Barésh existed without Rom’s knowledge, it in essence proved Randall’s point that the Federation didn’t care about the frontier. Until Ian could show that theVashwere committed to changing what was wrong, he had to keep Randall from taking the news home. Just how he was going to do that he had yet to figure out. But he would. Without Rom’s help. This was his chance to show that he could take a delicate and potentially disastrous situation and turn it around.

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