Starfighters of Adumar by Aaron Allston

smiled.
    “You are well come to Cartann,” the perator said to Wedge. “I look forward to hearing your words and seeing your displays of skill. But first, I have a present for the four of you.” He waved behind him, beckoning someone forward.
    Into the open space surrounding the perator stepped a young woman. Her garments were all white, though festooned with what looked like ribbons and military service decorations, and she carried blastsword, knife, comfan, and pistol at her belt. She was not tall, being a double handspan shorter than Wedge, but walked with the confident gait of someone a head taller than anyone in the crowd, despite the fact that she was a year or twofrom what Wedge would consider full adulthood. Her freckled features were pretty, open, bearing the expression of a youth rushing recklessly into life. Her black hair was in a long braid drawn over her shoulder, and her eyes were a dark blue that seemed almost purple in the dim light of the chamber.
    “This young lady,” the perator said, “is the most recent winner of the Cartann Ground Championship. With that victory comes certain obligations and prerogatives. Pilots, I present you Cheriss ke Hanadi; I know that you have the most informed Tomer Darpen to give you outlook upon Cartann, but Cheriss will serve you as native guide throughout your stay.”
    Wedge gave the perator a slight bow. “Thank you, sir.” He spared a glance for Tomer, but the career diplomat did not seem in the least curious or disconcerted; this was obviously not an unusual sort of occurrence.
    “I am honored to serve,” Cheriss said. She stared at Wedge with disconcerting intensity, but Wedge could detect no animosity in her expression—just curiosity. “If General Antilles wishes diversion during the evening, I have a show to put on—a non-title from some runny-nosed lordling.”
    The perator returned his attention to Wedge. “Tonight,” he said, “is an informal night. Meet the heroes and nobles and celebrities we have assembled. Tomorrow is soon enough to begin the tedious affairs of discussion and negotiations, no?” He offered another smile, then turned his back on the pilots and moved away. His knot of courtiers moved with him like a set of shields moving with a starfighter. Hallis turned between perator and Wedge, indecisive, then stayed behind, her attention and her recording unit’s gaze on the New Republic pilots.
    Tomer stood openmouthed, his expression uncomprehending. “After all his curiosity about our pilots, all his arrangements—and he has not even one question foryou tonight. I’m baffled.” He gave Cheriss a sharp look. “Cheriss, do you know why he has chosen to conduct tonight the way he has?”
    She tore her attention from Wedge to answer. “Oh, certainly.”
    “Why?”
    She smiled in return. “I can’t answer that. Not yet. I’m forbidden.”
    Tomer’s expression turned glum. “I hate secrets,” he said.
    Wedge said, “Whitecap, sleep-time.”
    The 3PO head on Hallis’s shoulder responded, in the distinctively fussy 3PO voice, “Certainly, sir,” and the lights in its eyes went out.
    Hallis made a noise of exasperation.
    Wedge ignored her. “Tomer, a couple of questions. If he’s the ruling representative of all of Adumar, why is he simply introduced as the perator of Cartann?”
    “He is the heir to the throne of Cartann.” Tomer shrugged. “Cartann is his nation. The concept of a single world government is somewhat new here. It does not invoke the sense of pride that the traditional throne of a nation does.”
    “Oh.” Wedge leaned in close and whispered so that only Tomer could hear. “And now he has offered us the services of a guide. Is that some sort of present? Should we have brought a gift to offer him?”
    Tomer smiled and whispered back, “Oh, no. Your very presence and what it means to him is present enough.”
    Wedge leaned back, not entirely reassured. “Whitecap, wake-time.” He saw the lights reappear in