The Star Princess (25 page)

Hoe began without preamble. "I have failed, failed in my monitoring of the prince's activities. The images are weeks old. The articles, as well. It will not happen again. I have found the reason for the lag and repaired it." Sighing, he offered Klark his computer. "These were taken from a series of what the Earth-dwellers call newspapers. I've translated them for you. But the images need no translation."

Warily Klark took the computer from Hoe." 'Earth-bound Cinderella looks for prince?'" he murmured, glancing up." 'Cinderella?'"

"An Earth fable of some sort. Involving a cleaning woman as the central character, and a prince as her mate."

"Ah." Klark frowned and read on. Princess Ilana Hamilton was photographed in the arms of an unidentified man only hours later… He lowered the computer. "Unidentified man, my eye. That's Ché."

Hoe nodded gravely, I, too, am sure of it."

Klark's attention dipped to the screen. He studied the dark, blurry image of Ilana Hamilton with a tall, shadowy form he knew with all certainty was his brother. Then he skipped forward to another article. This one had photos of Ilana only: Ilana at work; Ilana at play; Ilana thrusting out her tongue at whoever had taken the pictures. But other than the first image, no Ilana holding on to Ché. "Great Mother."

"So you saw it," Hoe moaned.

"To be frank, I wish I hadn't." His brother sat in what looked like a giant cup of tock. Klark winced. "Look at him— his knees are nearly touching his ears!"

"It is an amusement ride, apparently. One made for very small children, it would seem. Only he is not riding with a child."

Klark slid the computer across the table. Hoe caught it, clutching it in fidgeting hands. "No, indeed. Ilana Hamilton is very much a woman." In many of the photos, Ilana had held a camera to her eye. The camera was large, resembling the contraption she utilized at work, if it wasn't the same one altogether. She created entertainment for Earth-dwellers. Was she documenting Che's visit for that purpose? Was he actually agreeable to such a bizarre circumstance? Ché was normally a very private man. Yet here, viewed at the other end of a primitive image-making device, he appeared quite cheerful. "My brother has changed," Klark murmured.

Hoe looked miserable. "I knew this would happen. I knew there would be trouble if he came within a light-year of that girl. If he had taken Princess Ilana to bed, and only that, it would be merely another scandal— a manageable one, at that. But he appears to be with her almost constantly."

"How did you discover this? Do you have a spy in place?"

"I would have sent spies, but the prince made me swear not to. Had he not made me give my word… " Hoe sighed. "But I have been watching all available Earth media forms since the day the prince arrived." His face darkened. "I would have caught this sooner, but with some of the more primitive periodicals, there is a lag between dissemination in print and availability in the transmittable format our comm equipment can receive."

Klark studied the images again. Ché and the Earth princess certainly looked cozy— Klark knew his brother well enough to tell. He'd never seen Ché behave in such a way with any female, in court or with any he had picked from the ranks of the courtesans. It was not unusual for a young royal to develop misplaced feelings for a pleasure server, and when it occurred, the family always intervened. But Ché, had always been stronger than that. He did what was best for the family, unfailingly, even to the detriment of his happiness, as it was with the sudden wedding plans foisted upon him.

"My brother is a model Vedla," Klark said thoughtfully. "Never has he given the family any cause for concern. But I wonder… in the midst of his holiday, his personal pleasure, if he is of a mind to think of his future, to see the tremendous consequence that a union with the Earth princess would bring to our family."

"He is not 'of a mind!' Look at his face. He is in love with her!"

"Of course he is. There can be no other explanation for his presence in that… cup." Klark shook his head. He would never have allowed himself to become that witless with any female, and he would have thought Ché would be immune to such foolishness, as well. Alas, these images proved he was not. Ché might be a Vedla, but in the most basic of ways he was only a man.

That meant it was up to Klark to save the Vedlas from certain humiliation, if Che's love-boggled mind blocked his common sense.

Klark spread his hands on the table and leaned forward. "Bring him home to us, Hoe. Immediately."

"But the prince gave orders not to summon him until a wife is chosen."

"Then choose one." Buffoon.

"I can try to speed it along."

"Do. Tell Toren, as I cannot communicate with him."

Hoe frowned in thought. Toren and his people have narrowed the field down to two."

"Good, good."

"One is a princess, seemingly agreeable, but her intended has balked. The other is the daughter of a high-ranking noble, but very young. Thirteen, fourteen, I cannot recall. But Toren assures me they will decide very soon, my lord."

Excitement surged through Klark, as it had done a heartbeat before his senssword contacted Che's the day their Bajha match had ended in a draw. That game was an omen of sorts. For the conclusion to the game he played now would prove equally startling to his brother. "I need Ché home. Now."

"Excuse my impertinence, sir, but you saw the way he is with the Earthwoman. He may protest."

"He agreed to return when it was time. He will not do otherwise. He is a Vedla. Now go. Do as I ask of you, if you care at all about Prince Ché and the status of our family." Klark pushed to his feet and left the advisor alone at the table, staring after him. "I don't care how you bring Ché home, only that you do."

Chapter Sixteen

Ilana shouted over the noise of the engine. Her face reflected excitement, to Che's delight, and not fear. But then, they were only on the ground. "This is a blast. Can I try driving— I mean taxiing?"

She put her feet on the rudder pedals without him having to show her. Wisely, she did nothing else as Ché steered. They traveled straight along the taxiway, needing only slight corrections. "Ready to taxi solo?" he asked.

Her sunglasses hid her eyes, and the headset with its wraparound microphone hid her mouth. "Ready."

He pulled back his feet, and she was steering the craft. She whooped again. He laughed. "You were born to fly, Ilana."

"Hey, that doesn't mean I want to. But this is fun!"

"Like driving a ground car, yes?"

"If it wasn't so damn noisy."

The plane was indeed primitive. The air-conditioning barely compensated for the direct sum-mer heat. The noise from the engine roared through the cockpit, and the vents brought in the scent of fuel and heated electrics. Ché was aware of the smells only because they were absent in the modern craft that he flew. Or perhaps "sanitized" was a better word. This was flying the way it once had been, millennia ago. Back to the basics. Noise and sensation. But Ché flew with one goal: to bring Ilana into the sky, to hand her the control she needed to blunt her fear if not conquer it outright.

And yet each time he took the Cessna into the sky, each time he left the ground behind, he felt like one of the birds that soared above the shore on Eireya. The sea-raptor, the symbol of his family. Sleek and strong and deadly— like a Vedla.

"There," Ché told her. "Intersection Quebec. Make a right turn." He felt Ilana's right foot depress the rudder pedal as she completed the turn. "We will stop there, at that line." A painted yellow line separated the taxiway from the active runway.

Ilana brought the airplane to a jerky stop. She laughed, and he smiled at her delight. Her black top had ridden up. A slice of soft golden skin showed above her jeans. That place on her stomach would be the perfect spot to kiss, he thought, forcing his gaze back outside. I’ ll ask tower to clear us to taxi down the runway. We can go a little faster."

"Okay." She seemed game. When it came to the rides at Disneyland, she was a daredevil. It made it even more confusing as to why she was so opposed to flying.

"Tower, Cessna Five-alpha-kilo. Request a highspeed taxi down runway two-two."

"Five-alpha-kilo, cleared for high-speed taxi down two-two."

"Hold on with me, Ilana. Lightly. Not too hard," Ché instructed.

She grabbed hold of the steering yoke with both hands.

"As we gain speed, she'll want to fly, so you'll have to hold down pressure to keep her on the runway."

Ilana swallowed. "And me, too."

He put her hand on the throttle and let her follow his forward movement as he pushed the knob in. The engine noise increased. The propeller spun faster. The tension in the cockpit fairly crackled as they gained speed.

The little plane danced lightly on its wheels. "She wants to fly," Ilana called out.

"Hold her down. Pull back on the throttle, too. We're going a little too fast."

Ilana did neither. "What would it take to fly?"

To fly? "Now? " He peered straight ahead. The airplane was loaded so lightly that there was more than sufficient runway left to allow takeoff.

"Yes. Now. I… I want to do it. I want to do it before I chicken out. Before I have to think about it."

Swiftly, not wanting to lose the chance, Ché grabbed the radio. Tower, Cessna Five-alpha-kilo request takeoff."

"Five-alpha-kilo, cleared for takeoff."

He grabbed Ilana's moist hand and together they pushed the throttle full in. He used the rudders to steer. She held on to the yoke. "As we lift off," he said, "I'm using the yoke to keep level, steering, almost like a car."

The noise drowned out all extraneous noise except their shouts. But not Ilana's resounding shriek as the wheels lifted away from the paved surface.

Then they took to the air. "Oh, my God, Ché. Oh, my God."

His heart sank. Holding the yoke, he glanced over at her. She was rigid as a board. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. "Easy, Ilana. I'll get us down on the ground right away. You are doing great. Just great. There is no need to worry. I can fly. We are safe."

"Oh, my God," she whispered.

"Hang in there," he urged, using more of his newly acquired Earth slang.

She said something. He didn't hear what. "Louder, Ilana. I can't hear you."

"Can I hold the yoke with you?"

Stunned, he looked sideways. "You want to continue?"

When she turned, he saw the joy lighting up her face. He felt the answering surge of pleasure in his heart. "This is no worse than any roller coaster, Ché. Noisier, but a whole lot less rocky."

"Fly, then."

"Fly?" He could see her gulp.

His grin broadened. "Take hold of the yoke, lightly."

He still wasn't sure of her reaction. If she were to panic on the controls, he'd have to hope for the strength to break her free.

But her hands closed around the yoke in a normal grip, if a little tighter than most. Ché received clearance from approach control to fry along the coast. Keeping a watch on the enormous passenger transports not that far below them, lumbering on and off the runways at Los Angeles Interstellar Airport, he urged the little craft higher.

LAX-I had a boggling amount of traffic crawling on its surface, but only one starcraft that he could see. It must have earned its name from occasional space transport that landed there. Despite the free exchange of technology with the rest of the Trade

Federation, it would be a number of years before Earth became a true spacefaring society.

Yet the Earth-dwellers still had the singular pleasure of flying the primitive Cessna, Ché thought. Here, one could still fly in the manner of the earliest aviation pioneers.

Ilana sat to his left, her mouth pulled back in a smile. Her breaths had slowed, but he could still see the pulse throbbing in her throat. The buzz of the engine filled the small cockpit. Radio chatter was almost continuous. But the sky was brilliant blue, as was the sea below. The closest clouds lay far to the west like a folded-back quilt.

"Ilana, what do you think?" He was almost afraid to ask the question lest he break the spell.

She turned to him, her face shining. "It's everything I didn't think it would be."

Together they laughed.

"It's like breaking a barrier. It's like when I thought I couldn't run a marathon and then I did. The barrier itself can psyche you out, but once you're through, once you get past it, you kind of wonder what you found so intimidating."

Her words struck home. He thought of his feelings for Ilana, how badly he wanted her in his life, and how he hadn't dared try to break past the barriers his family had placed in front of him and his personal happiness. But now that he did see a way around that barrier, the thought of crossing it seemed exactly as Ilana had put it. He wondered what in blazes he'd found so intimidating about going against the tide of tradition.

To his shock and Ilana's, he let out a whoop. Grinning broadly, she kept her hands on the yoke, riding his movements as he banked to the right and leveled off at two thousand feet above sea level, just offshore.

The noise lessened with the engine running at a lower speed. "She's yours if you want her."

Her smile wobbled. "Sure." Her hands clamped around the yoke.

"Lighter. So you do not fly rough. Like the tango," he teased.

Her laughter silenced suddenly when he pulled his hands from the yoke and placed them on his thighs, fingers spread in the ready position. Ilana was flying the plane now. And doing a marvelous job of it.

He was ready to take over if necessary. Somehow he didn't think it would come to that.

"I'm flying. I'm really flying." She was nearly whispering again. "Wahoo," she added in a soft little cheer.

"Shout it out, woman! It is possible to yell and fly at the same time. Ask my former instructor." Ché took a breath. "Come on. Let's hear it. A celebratory exclamation worthy of this milestone."

"Wahoo! " they shouted together.

Then Ilana quieted. "Ché?"

"Yes."

"Take the plane for a minute."