WinterStar by Blaze Ward


WinterStar (Star Tribes Series Book 1) by Blaze Ward
English | 2020 | Sci – Fi | ePUB | 2.2 MB

Daniel has had enough as a chef. The burnout convinces him to sell the restaurant to his Sous Chef, walk out the door, and never come back. A new job takes him into deep space on an adventure he never imagined.

Kathra Omezi’s star tribe faces poverty on a daily basis. Twenty-five ships in deep space against the entire Sept Empire. And then a conqueror steps into their lives.

Daniel, the Mbaysey tribe, and the galaxy, will never be the same.

Kathra looked up as Erin, her own wingwoman, leader of her comitatus, stomped in to her command office and sat down without a by-your-leave or even a polite knock on the frame.

But then, that wasn’t Erin’s style, which was part of the reason this young woman led the rest.

Kathra let her dark face fall into something neutral enough that an outsider might be fooled into thinking she wasn’t angry.

“Why?” Kathra finally asked after Erin had sat still long enough to fidget in her chair.

“It’s bad enough to hire an outsider, Commander,” Erin groused. “But now you’re going to bring in a male? And a Rabic one, at that?”

That the potential victim wasn’t black like the rest of them was probably what had set Erin off, moreso than hiring a man. Unlike most of the crew, Erin’s skin was much lighter, a little darker than a tawny bronze with hints of duskiness under it. Unlike Kathra’s nearly onyx flesh, or the range of dark browns the rest of the women in the comitatus had.

Erin’s grandmother had been taken by slavers, and Erin’s mother was mulatto. None of the fighters on this ship cared about your heritage, but Kathra knew Erin had been teased about it when she was young.

The barcode tattoo on the woman’s right cheek was black enough to stand out cleanly. It was a sign of Erin honoring her ancient Grandma Ezinne, who still had the mark of the slavers on her own cheek to this day.

This woman’s curly hair was clipped and shaved into a mohawk seven centimeters wide and nearly that tall. It fit awkwardly under her flight helmet, but Erin made it work. That was her signature, after all.

Making it work.

Kathra considered the other woman almost as a bright reflection to her own. Kathra’s skin was so dark that it was nearly black. Full lips that never smiled, on a lean face that seemed at odds with her broad shoulders and muscles. High cheekbones and a narrow jaw made many consider her beautiful, but Kathra wanted none of it.

She was too busy building a new nation and protecting it from those bastards in the Sept, the empire of humans that had inherited Earth and apparently planned to subjugate the rest of the galaxy and all the aliens along the way.

Kathra was a warrior, not a model. In that, she and Erin were the same person.

“I have thought long and hard about this decision, Erin,” Kathra fixed her gaze on her second in command like a cobra eyeing an intruder. “I have not yet heard a reason to doubt the decision.”

“Can no one else do this?” Erin asked, hints of anguish creeping into her voice.

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