Aaron looked up and blinked. “Yes, it is.” He went back to his data pad.

“Uncle, you don’t understand. He was rude and insolent. He spoke of you in a disrespectful fashion. He actually made fun of your title.”

“He called me ‘Duck’ again, didn’t he? Well, I did say not to do that in front of guests. You”—he sighed deeply—“are family.”

Erik bit his lip, puzzled. “You allow this sort of behavior from your subordinates?” He’d certainly never allow it of me.

“Only in the case of Captain Clancy. His status is special. I don’t encourage it, but it isn’t in my best interests to forbid it, either.”

“Uncle—”

“Captain Clancy is in my employ, Erik. He’s not part of the SwordSworn or the general staff. He’s my personal concern, and I’ll not have you telling me how to deal with him. He’s impertinent and rude. He’s also gifted and useful. Like you, he has an important place in my plan.”

“But, my Lord, I won’t stand by and let him—”

“Erik, what have I told you about false pride? It’s the burden of fools and failures. Captain Clancy is going to be a useful and loyal servant. All I have to do is allow him this”—he swept his arms out to indicate the ship—“small domain. I’m not so petty a man that I can’t bear his little insults, nor so foolish a man that I’ll trade all his skills away over a few transgressions.” He glowered. “Ultimately, Clancy knows his place.” His eyes narrowed. “Now show me that you know yours.”

Shocked, Erik left the room without another word. Had the stress of his experiences caused the Duke to become unhinged? He thought of Clancy’s smug smile as he left Erik in the corridor and fumed.

This isn’t over.

7

SwordSworn Flagship, Tyrannos Rex

Azha jump point

Prefecture VI, The Republic

23 October 3134

For Erik, the wait for the jump to Azha was as uneventful as it was uncomfortable. The Duke remained sequestered in his quarters, presumably working and recovering from his injuries. But, large as the ship was, it wasn’t big enough for both Erik and Captain Clancy. The wiry little man seemed to prowl the Rex constantly, like a feral cat patrolling his territory.

Nor did he avoid Erik when they saw each other. Quite the contrary. It was up to Erik to steer clear and avoid the confrontation, something that offended his pride mightily. But he felt it was necessary: the only way to avoid antagonizing his uncle further.

The time might have been more pleasantly spent in the company of his uncle’s valet, Deena Onan; however, although Ulysses Paxton assured him that she was alive and well, she no longer seemed to be aboard. Aaron had apparently secured separate transport for her at their last stop and sent her on some sort of courier mission. Paxton would say no more than that.

As for Paxton himself, he had always been cordial but professionally detached with Erik and, Erik suspected, anyone whose life he might be called upon to protect in the line of duty. Now he was even more so. He seemed rattled—more by the Duke’s close brush with death than his own.

So Erik spent several days in his quarters reviewing debriefing reports from New Aragon, and playing Go on a magnetized board with Lieutenant Clayhatchee, the officer he’d appointed as his aide on the upcoming mission.

It was a great relief when they docked with the fully charged JumpShip and made the shift to Azha.

The system was quickly becoming a major hub of SwordSworn activity, so passage was soon arranged for Erik and his aide to travel on a fast Avenger assault ship. Erik received word they would be shipping out within the hour.

He was on his way into the bay to board the shuttle, when Deena Onan emerged. She seemed as surprised to see him as he was to see her.

She bowed her head respectfully. “Commander Sandoval-Groell.”

He smiled. “A pleasure, as always, Deena. Did you arrive on the Avenger?”

“Yes, Commander, the same one you’re to be traveling on. I’m told it will refuel from one of our tankers before linking up with the JumpShip for the trip to Shensi.”

“My uncle told you about my mission?”

She looked uncomfortable. “Of course. I made the …necessary arrangements.”

Erik blinked in puzzlement. She’d arranged his passage on the Avenger? That didn’t seem right, with her just having returned.

She seemed to sense his confusion. She looked around. The bay was a busy place. There were several Tyrannos Rex crewmembers working within earshot. “I’m sure you’ve been briefed, Commander. I’m not sure we should be discussing this in such a public place. In any case, the Lord Governor will be expecting me to report in immediately.”

He nodded. “Of course. I’m glad you emerged from the New Canton incident alive and well. I’d have been very upset if anything had happened to you.”

“That’s very gracious, Commander. Take care and have a safe journey.” She seemed almost relieved as she pulled herself through the inner airlock door and disappeared down the corridor.

Erik looked after her a moment. Though she had always treated him kindly, his advances toward Deena had never gotten him anywhere. Still, he didn’t understand what he’d done to make her so uncomfortable, or what that whole exchange had been about.

Again, he suspected the Duke’s hand. He sometimes used Deena as an operative or messenger, and it was impossible to keep track of all his plots and manipulations. Mentally, Erik added her distress to the list of deeds for which Aaron would ultimately be held accountable.

Erik, too, would be relieved to get away from this spot, and off the Tyrannos Rex.

Aaron looked at himself in the little cabin’s mirror. His face looked puffy, but that was a common side effect of free fall in the best of circumstances. Beyond that, his skin was regaining its normal tone, and the bruises were fading. His chest still ached constantly, despite the drugs, but Doc and the consulting SwordSworn physicians he’d brought aboard for consultation all told him that he was healing well and could expect a full recovery.

All he needed was time and rest—the two things that, despite his considerable fortune, he could not now afford. He resolved to push himself on, through force of will if necessary. Damn the medical consequences; he’d deal with them later.

He rubbed the whiskers on his chin. He was still toying with the idea of letting the beard grow, or at least of shaving it into a Vandyke. It would cover the jagged, still-red scar on his chin, and perhaps a few others, depending on how full he kept it. He tried to decide whether it would make him look distinguished, or merely sinister.

The door bell rang. “Lord Governor,” said Paxton from outside, “Ms. Onan has returned.”

He quickly buzzed her in. He was eager to hear her news, of course, but he was also glad to again have her services. He was feeling well enough to move around the ship, and being properly groomed and dressed would make him feel human again. He had to prepare himself. The day was quickly approaching when he would have to make public appearances again, no matter how he was feeling.

Deena floated through the door and clung to a grab-iron near the foot of his bed. She smiled at him as she entered. “You’re looking stronger, Lord Governor.”

He grinned weakly. “You lie,” he said, “but you lie well.”

His quip seemed to bother her. “It is what you pay me for, I suppose.”

“You’re back far sooner than I expected.” He’d used his considerable resources to expedite her return trip, even holding a charged JumpShip for her at Styk, but her outbound travel arrangements from Liao had necessarily been haphazard. Still, amazing things could happen if you threw enough money at a problem.