Read The Star King for Free Online Page B

warriors must, inching closer. Listening.
     
    Though not with his ears.
     
    He relied on the blood coursing through his veins, his tingling pores, and the tiniest hairs on his body, while he clutched the blunt sens-sword in his fists. Ah, he loved this aspect of the sport: the thoroughly arousing anticipation of a victory not yet realized. Show yourself, Gann.
     
    His opponent attacked, the rounded blade of his sens-sword passing so close that the wind sang over the tops of Rom's bare hands. Rom arched his back, ducked. Whooping in joy, he whirled, swinging his own weapon in a brutal arc from above his head and sharply to the right. He heard a grunt of surprise as the sens-sword vibrated in his hands, signaling a hit.
     
    "Ah, hell and back," he heard Gann mutter.
     
    "Lights," Rom said. The illumination came up, revealing his second-in-command on one knee. He pointed his weapon at him. "Give?" he inquired, breathless.
     
    "Give."
     
    Rom offered Gann his hand—a show of respect for the man he trusted as much as he had his brother, and the only member of the Vash Nadah willing to follow him into exile. Gripping each other at the wrist, they inclined their heads, formally ending the match.
     
    Fealty, fidelity, family. Like him, Gann was devoted to the ancient code of the warrior, one that stressed control and self-discipline. It was an honorable way of life, one that set the example for the lower classes—unlike the habits of most current rulers.
     
    Fools, Rom thought, wrenching open the fastenings on his collar. Certainly eleven thousand years of peace was an accomplishment worthy of awe, but many of the Vash Nadah were using pacifism as an excuse for apathy, caring more for personal power, pleasure, and riches than the foundation of their civilization. If that foundation were allowed to crumble, the chaos and death of long ago would return. The Dark Years. Already there were signs of deterioration—terrorism, the destruction of supply lines and ships, previously unheard-of riots on essential planets across the realm. Had Rom not killed Sharron with his own hands on Balkanor almost twenty years before, he would have sworn the acts bore the mark of the monster and his cult following.
     
    Rom's stomach muscles knotted up. The politics and future of the Vash Nadah were no longer his concern. He was estranged from his family, banished in disgrace. If the Vash wanted to wallow in ignorance and inaction in the name of peace, so be it. He was quite content to live out his life on the fringe, meandering along the ancient routes in the stars with his loyal crew, trading for baubles on backwater frontier planets.
     
    Gann interrupted his decidedly dismal thoughts. "What was that you called me?" he asked, unfastening his white Bajha jumpsuit. "A dog?"
     
    "Yes. A dog."
     
    "I can match you epithet for Earth epithet, B'Kah: A - okay-have-a-nice-day."
     
    Rom said dryly, "Not something I'd care repeat to my mother, I take it?"
     
    "Wouldn't risk it."
     
    Chuckling, Rom draped a towel over his shoulders and squeezed half the contents of a bag of drinking water into his mouth.
     
    "Zarra's volunteered to serve as translator," Gann said. "The lad boasts he's fluent."
     
    "I've no knack for languages," Rom admitted. The fact had never posed a problem before. Vash Basic was used galaxy-wide; it was the language of commerce. Nevertheless, during the two months he'd wasted waiting for Earth's governments to decide whether to welcome Lahdo's fleet, Rom had been memorizing what little English he could, a guttural and oddly familiar tongue. It lessened the chance of being cheated in trade—should there be those on Earth who'd dare try.
     
    He packed away his sens-sword, stripped off his Bajha suit, then stretched and flexed his muscles. He felt sated, alive. The game had heightened all his senses. A fleeting image of a bath—a real bath, not a timed hygiene shower—flitted through his mind. Next appeared a woman, offering