To Trade the Stars Read Online Free

“I believe I used somewhat stronger language.”
    â€œSo did Huido,” I remembered.
    A raised brow. “Who had no problem finding another carrier the next day. Probably an entire fleet, by now, seeing how enthusiastically the Fak-ad-sa’it have embraced the concept of hunting prey that doesn’t hunt back. We spent more than our share of time plying back and forth to fill Huido’s menu, my Lady Witch.” Morgan’s eyes grew solemn. “And more than enough findown on Pocular, don’t you think?”
    â€œOh,” was all I managed, surprised again by his empathy. Nightmares visited me on that world, nightmares I couldn’t stop. We’d never discussed it—I now understood there hadn’t been any need. I drew my hand in the air to gently trace the lines of unseen tension around his head, neck, and shoulders, drawing them down and away with a touch of Power. “So, Master Trader,” I asked him, mouth close to his ear, “where do we find our next vastly profitable cargo?”
    Morgan’s hand slipped warm and strong behind my neck, his head turning so my last words brushed against his smiling lips.
    My hair enclosed us both.
    Â 
    â€œSo?”
    â€œSo ...?”
    â€œSo—what next?”
    At Morgan’s sudden smile, I took a firm step backward and finished fastening my coveralls. “You know perfectly well what I mean, Human. If we aren’t reconsidering Huido’s contract, what are we going to do?” I didn’t bother saying what we both knew: that only Huido would chance a cargo with us, given the present state of the Fox.
    Other opportunities had been as far apart as their star systems. We’d made some successful trades on our own, keeping afloat, but Morgan’s former clients seemed to have vanished in the last couple of months. Certainly none appeared to have shipments needing the famed luck of the Silver Fox and her Captain.
    Was it my presence? Gossip spread translight, especially among Traders. We hadn’t bothered fabricating a life history for me, which meant that, so far as Morgan’s business associates knew, the Human might have grown me in a tank. Morgan had shrugged when I’d voiced this suspicion. The Silver Fox would find new clients, if that was the case.
    I walked over to the table, tracing its edge with my fingers as I let myself be frustrated. I might be the acknowledged leader of my entire race, but, to date, that lofty accomplishment had produced only visitors with complaints, most arriving when and where we least wanted them. Payment? The Clan, with the exception of the self-styled and unstable society on Acranam, existed as independent families; no one “paid” another of our kind for service. That was what Humans were for.
    My House, di Sarc? It was wealthy, but its more portable riches had left with my father, the exiled Jarad di Sarc; no one on Council, including its newest Speaker, was inclined to invite him back for an accounting. I’d last seen his Chosen, my mother, Mirim sud Teerac, at the Clan gathering on Camos. She’d been compelled there, like all our kind, by the Watchers, but hadn’t spoken to anyone, including her daughters, disappearing at the end to wherever she now chose to live. I presumed she had the where-withal to keep herself however she wished. If her lifestyle didn’t involve replacement parts for starships, it didn’t interest me.
    There had been other assets, legitimately mine and so Morgan’s as my Chosen. Property. Business interests. The sort of thing less than easily pilfered by someone disgraced and perhaps fearing reprisal, but now all gone, sold to pay a debt. My Human hadn’t commented when I’d entrusted the substantial sum to Sector Chief Bowman. He knew how I felt about those twenty-two shattered lives. The Human telepaths had suffered because of an experiment I’d started without compassion or