Lost Star by Hawke, Morgan (digital book reader .TXT) 📕

anything to do with the fact Seht had brushed up against him and had not noticed him.

The man behind the broad desk rose to his feet, resplendent in an ornate cream and gold frockcoat and waistcoat that were tied closed with a pale cream sash. The entire outfit was practically encrusted with gold embroidery and cream seed pearls. His spun-gold hair was drawn back from his pale brow and bound at the nape of his neck with a cream silk bow, the long, wavy tail tumbling to his waist. A full head and a half shorter than Ravnos, the president was forced to lift his chin to meet Ravnos’s gaze.

Golden brows swept up over electric blue eyes. The smile on his lips was both welcoming and a touch sly. “Goodness, I sincerely hope that our clearly less-than-adequate doorways are not proving difficult for your…stature?”

Ravnos stared down at the far smaller and slighter man. He schooled his expression to perfect blandness. “I’ve managed not to dent too many of the lintels, sir.”

The president chuckled and held out a white-gloved hand, a froth of cream lace tumbling from his broad coat cuff. “I’ve heard many fine things about you, Captain.”

Ravnos’s dark brows lifted. “Oh?” He lifted his black leather-gloved hand and gripped the hand offered carefully. “You’ve heard that I’m a bloodthirsty battle-commander with an extremely nasty temper when crossed?”

The president’s smile broadened. “As I said, many fine things.” He released Ravnos’s hand. “I’m more than pleased to offer you and your ship a safe harbor.”

108

Morgan Hawke

Ravnos nodded and relaxed enough to smile. “I couldn’t have wished for a better place to call home, President Kidd.” He reached into the breast pocket of his waistcoat and withdrew a tiny data crystal. He held it out to the president. “My charter, sir.”

The youthful president took the tiny crystal and slipped it into his own inner breast pocket. He tilted his head and lifted a golden brow. “Would you object to the occasional private mission, between hunting forays?”

Ravnos didn’t even blink. That the president might offer him a side job or two was expected. He would have been far more surprised if the president hadn’t asked for such. “That would be perfectly acceptable, sir.”

The president clasped his hands and nodded. “I’m very glad to have you with us.”

He tilted his head, and his blue eyes narrowed. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend, no?”

Ravnos stilled utterly. Seht… He shook it off with a slight smile. “My father said the very same thing.”

The president nodded. “He sounds like an intelligent man.”

“He was.” Ravnos’s mouth tightened.

The president’s brows lifted, then fell. He nodded. “I see; my condolences.”

Ravnos’s smile gentled. “Appreciated.”

The president inclined his head, then smiled. “Now then…” He tugged at the lace falling from his cuffs. “I will send my aide to you with the particulars of where you will be stationed. A small private estate has been prepared for you and your crew’s convenience. I also have a list of companies willing to take commission for recovery and repair for your ship, should you need them.”

Ravnos had only half his attention on the conversation. Truthfully, he was merely nodding at the appropriate lulls while internally recording what was said for later perusal. He was far more interested in who Seht was looking for in the Republic of the Caribbean Stars. The fist around his heart and the cold sweat sliding down his spine told him that he knew exactly who the Skeldhi prince sought. But why was the prince still pursuing him after so many years? Why hadn’t he just given him up?

A ping sounded, signaling that the lift doors behind him had opened.

A voice called out in the echoing room. “Sir, you must wait!”

“I do not…wait.” The voice was cultured, soft, slightly mechanized, and…familiar. Heavy boots thumped on carpet.

Ravnos stilled. Where had he heard that voice before? His internal computational automatically sorted through his monstrous collection of voice files, choosing and discarding voice track after voice track at the speed of thought. The closest match was…

Memories flitted through his mind, of darkness and a medical table, then a floor, punctuated by faded echoes of screaming pain from…ice in his lungs.

Interstellar Service & Discipline: Lost Star

109

Ravnos’s eyes widened, and his breath stilled. Moribund…? But it couldn’t be him.

He schooled his expression to neutrality, showing only mild boredom, and turned very slowly.

The man striding up the carpet was tall, broad-shouldered, and refined in appearance. Perfectly groomed golden hair fell in graceful waves across a high brow.

Neatly trimmed golden brows arched over sapphire blue eyes. His carved porcelain face was very nearly feminine with high cheekbones. He was the very picture of a high-ranking noble of the Imperial court, but he moved with the smooth refinement of the extremely, and expensively, augmented. Clearly, his body was more machine than man.

However, what held Ravnos’s attention was that he wore a blindingly white, painfully tailored uniform practically encrusted with gold braid with a floor-sweeping cape and the long coat of a high-ranking imperial officer. He frowned slightly at the man’s insignia. An admiral? That can’t be Moribund. He searched through his data files trying to match the face with a name.

“President Kidd”—the noble admiral stopped before the desk on Ravnos’s immediate left—“a moment of your time, if you please?”

Ravnos lifted his brow. By standing on his left, the noble was blocking Ravnos’s sword arm. Rude bastard.

The noble’s gaze traveled across Ravnos’s clearly mercenary uniform. He focused on the ship insignia displayed in silver and jet on the left breast of Ravnos’s long coat.

More than one iris shifted in the depths of his eyes, revealing that they were entirely artificial and designed for deep space. His gaze chilled, but his full mouth smiled almost sweetly. “You won’t mind, will you?”

Ravnos’s brows lifted. That was an interesting expression. He couldn’t have reproduced it if he tried. “How does he do that?”

The president smiled. “You mean that disdainfully cheerful ‘I hate