Page 49 of Star Prince

“You have every right to be upset,” he continued. “I took things too far. I apologize.”

His acute self-consciousness surprised and charmed her. “You’re forgetting that I started it all!” she said.

“You may have started it, but I sure didn’t fight too hard.”

“No”—she smiled— “you didn’t.”

He frowned. “It was unprofessional. It won’t happen again.”

Despite her worries about his identity, despite her fears of losing her freedom, Tee’ah’s disappointment rushed to the surface before she could stop it. Or analyze it. And the gleam in his eyes told her that he had seen. Heat flooded her face. She masked her embarrassment with a blasé and—she hoped—worldly explanation. “Even if it does, don’t be concerned. Casual, uncomplicated liaisons are what Iprefer. No need to make more of that kiss than what it was.”

A mixture of astonishment, disappointment, and relief flickered across his expressive face. “Well,” he said slowly. “I’m glad we got that cleared up.”

“Captain,” Muffin’s voice rumbled from down the corridor. “We’re ready.”

Ian pushed his chair backward. All business again, he told her, “Activate the security locks on the hatches. Then you won’t have to stand watch if you don’t feel well. Let the computer do the babysitting.”

She snorted. “Like when I flew through the asteroids? No thanks.”

“Quin says the computer checks out fine. I believe him, or I wouldn’t leave you here alone.” He stood. “Get some sleep.”

She doubted she would.

Quietly, she walked with him to the cockpit. From there, she watched him depart with the rest of the crew. Even after all five of their shadows vanished into the ink-black woods, she continued staring out into the night, listening to the sound of her breathing in the silent, empty ship.

“Computer—play ‘Melody of Cyrrian Flutes,’” she said, settling into the pilot’s chair. Soft music filled the ship. She propped her boots on the navigation console and tried to keep her mind off who Ian was—or who he was not.

As long as he doesn’t know who you are, you’re safe.

Yes. Surely she was safer now than ever before. The crown prince’s ship was the last place anyone would expect to find her.

A brisk scrabbling noise from outside invaded her thoughts. She dropped her feet and sat up, cocking her head. Grüma was home to a variety of wild creatures, but like the traders who frequented the local bars, they were mostly harmless. Mainly they participated in long, active nights of foraging and caterwauling. Likely the lingering scent from their dinner of roasted meat had brought a few of the animals closer than usual.

She fetched her pistol from the storage drawer at her station and turned up the ship’s exterior lights. Two muffled thumps emanated from the hull, as if the sudden illumination had startled whatever was out there. Her heartbeat picked up. If it was a marauding, carnivorous beast, it was a large one.

She scanned the exterior of the ship using an infrared, heat-seeking enhancement that displayed objects according to temperature. The scanner showed a few small life-forms in the darkness beyond the fringe of light ringing theSun Devil.Several animals foraged closer to the ship—rodents, or something similar. She kept searching.

Grüma was filled to the brim with people of all backgrounds. She had heard Quin and Gredda talk about some of the more unsavory merchants whom they said preyed on empty ships, stealing parts forsale on the black market. But someone might want to do harm to theSun Devilfor other, far darker reasons, someone who didn’t want them following the Earth-Senator Randall—a target who took on an entirely new and fascinating significance now that she suspected the crown prince himself was spying on him.

She cursed her habit of concocting elaborate schemes of intrigue, a consequence of growing up amongVashroyalty. She had no reason to believe that anyone was plotting anything. Nonetheless, if Ian was who she thought he was, his position made him a natural target for assassination—especially given his non-Vashheritage. And while she doubted anyone would make an open attempt on his life in the central part of the galaxy, making his death look like an accident in the frontier might be feasible. Even those who loved Rom B’kah might not investigate too thoroughly the mistaken death of his improper heir. Then a “proper” prince could assume the throne—a prince like Ché Vedla, the man she would have married.

Foreboding chilled her. No wonder Ian was keeping a low profile.

Another thump jolted her attention to the ship’s engine-status display. A green rectangle representing the main access panel to the number-one engine thruster went from green, to blinking amber, to steady red, telling her the panel was now ajar. Had she not seen the undeniable evidence displayed onthe schematic, she wouldn’t have believed it—or the equally shocking image on the infrared scanner. A human-sized shape crouched near the thruster. Someonewastrying to damage the ship!

She reached for the main comm at the same instant the interior of the ship went dark. False lights sparked in her eyes with each thud of her heart, which sounded like it was about to explode. “Captain, this is theSun Devil;do you read?”

There was no answer.

She tried again. “Return to theSun Devil— immediately.”

The comm was dead. All power to the ship must have been cut off, the security locks included, she realized with a disconcerting sense of vulnerability. Luckily the hatches locked mechanically upon total power loss and couldn’t be opened from the outside without dismantling the hatch itself. But if the trespasser wanted to, he certainly could force his way inside given enough time.

He wasn’t going to have that time; she would make sure of it.

She grabbed her pistol and an auxiliary flashlight. Then she released the manual door lock to the main entry hatch. It lifted with an overly loud hiss. Frigid air hit her like a slap in the face. The temperature outside was far colder than she had expected. As she stepped out, a twig snapped beneath her boots. She winced. Then, shivering without her jacket, sheinched forward, peering around the fuselage to the aft part of the ship.

She aimed the flashlight and her weapon into the darkness, bracing herself. “Who goes there? Identify yourself,” she called. The beam of her light illuminated a cloaked intruder—and the pistol he aimed at her head.

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