Page 6 of Star Prince

“Well, the Neanderthals are at it again.”

“Earth First?”

“Yes. Two anti-Federation rallies—one a couple of weeks ago at the U.N., the other last weekend in Washington.”

“No protests overseas?”

“No. Not yet.”

He rolled the tension out of his shoulders. Because he and his mother had unprecedented positions in their society, a high-ranking Earth official instigating a bid for independence was bound to attractVashattention. What member of the Great Council would approve of a prince from a rogue planet?

“Don’t let it get you down, Ian. I have good newstoo. Randall is on his way to the frontier. A little fact-finding tour, he’s calling it.”

“No kidding.” Adrenaline rushed through him, and he dropped his feet to the floor. Finally, something was going his way. “Have you got anything recorded?”

“A press conference. Ready?”

“Yes. Play it.”

Charles Randall appeared on the viewscreen. Dressed in a crisp flightsuit with a NASA emblem, the senator posed comfortably before an array of viewscreens that were clearly part of a new starship. Ironic, Ian thought as he waved Muffin over; the Federation’s biggest critic was enjoying himself on a spaceship cut from aVashpattern withVash-donated parts.

Muffin settled into the adjacent chair. The recording was in English, of which the man had a limited command. He could use a Basic English translator—a high-tech, palm-sized device that transformed speech to text—but he preferred observing body language, which he said he often found more useful than verbal cues.

“Senator,” a correspondent asked once Randall was done rhapsodizing about his upcoming adventure. “How do you reconcile your harsh accusations regarding theVashwith their actions over the past seven years? In exchange for an ordinary trade agreement, they’ve given us cures for cancer and AIDS, and medical science enabling us to heal newlydamaged spinal cords. Yet you say we’re better off without them?”

Randall ran a hand over his silver hair, cut in a short military style buzz. “TheVashhave indeed been generous with us,” he acknowledged. “Light-speed capable spacecraft, cures for devastating diseases; the list goes on and on. But at what cost to us? They’ve absorbed us completely into their empire.” His piercing blue eyes narrowed. “If that doesn’t frighten you, it should. The arrangement you call an ordinary trade agreement is the proverbial deal with the devil. We sold our souls for some fancy tech. This may not be what some of you want to hear, but it’s reality, folks. It’s time we faced it, took action and looked out for our own interests. That’s why I’m going to the frontier. For you, for me, for all of us. I want to see what has happened to other planets that have made deals with theVash.And I want to see what actions will be most favorable for our peoples in the years to come. I expect that detaching ourselves from the Federation is the only way to get what we need. Remember, Earth must come first.”

A few journalists cheered.

“Great,” Ian muttered to himself. Their eagerness to swallow Randall’s sugar pill of sovereignty showed their naiveté in galactic history. Independent, power-hungry worlds caused instability; only unity would keep the peace.

“What’s your itinerary, Senator?”

“Planet Grüma will serve as my base camp for the month. From there I’ll launch several side trips.”

Ian drummed his fingers on his thighs. “Grüma.” The rural planet was home to the frontier’s lively but mostly harmless black market. “I wonder what facts he thinks he’ll find there?”

“We can easily find out,” Muffin said. “It’s close, a day’s ride. Maybe two.”

Ian scowled. “It might as well be in another dimension without a pilot to fly us there.”

When Ilana reappeared on the viewscreen, she searched his face and grinned. “All right. You’re going after him?”

“You better believe, I am.”

“Hot damn! Ian Hamilton’s going to kick some butt.Tae-kwon-do!Make Randall eat his propaganda, would you?”

He replied dryly, “TheVashcrown prince duking it out with a U.S. senator? Yeah, that’d go a long way toward helping interstellar relations.”

“You know, maybe it would.”

Muffin chuckled, and Ian glared at him.

Ilana lifted her hands. “I know; you don’t have to tell me. You prefer the thinking man’s approach; diplomacy is paramount; ‘make love not war,’ theVash Nadahcreed. Hey, it worked for most of eleven thousand years, right?” She leaned toward the viewscreen. “But sometimes, you just have to kick a little ass.”

Ian pushed his tongue against the inside of hischeek. Ilana recognized the warning sign and smiled sweetly. “All I’m saying is that you have a black belt—put it to use for once in your life.”

“On a different subject,” he interjected. “Thanks for the heads-up on Randall.”

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