Erik felt his face getting warm. “You tried to kill me!”

Aaron stopped lifting, half-turning in the stirrups to face Erik. “I did no such thing.”

“Then you deny hiring Liao’s mercenaries to attack Shensi while I was there?”

“Of course not. That’s exactly what I did. But clearly the intent was not to kill you. There would be a million easier and more certain ways of doing that.”

“Of course you had other reasons, but you might have had the decency to tell me what I was walking into.”

“If I’d told you, would you have gone?”

“If you’d ordered it, of course, without question. I’m shocked that you even have to ask that.”

Aaron’s face was unreadable. “I did not order Erik the soldier, I sent Erik the Sandoval.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Erik the soldier would have gone, but his responses to the situation would not have been useful to me. Having a Sandoval in harm’s way is what sold the attack as a genuine act of the Liao incursion. I had no idea where you’d be when the attacks began, or who you’d be with. Your reaction, your shock and surprise, had to be genuine. I’m afraid those acting lessons I arranged for you as a teen never seemed to take at all.”

“You placed me, your own kin, in mortal danger simply as a bit of window dressing?”

“And when I order you into combat, are you in less danger?”

“That’s different. I go into combat with my eyes open. I know the risks, and I have the tools to fight them. You sent me on this mission without telling me that I’d be attacked. Attacked by mercenaries that you hired!” Erik was disappointed that Aaron didn’t seem the least bit defensive or apologetic. He just looked …puzzled.

“So? What if Liao really did attack while you were there? What if the Shensi had turned on you, or arrested you? What if there had been another assassination attempt? Any diplomatic mission can turn deadly. I know that better than anybody.”

“That’s not the point—”

“That’s exactly the point, Erik. When I put you in danger’s way, it is with the trust that you have the cunning and warrior skills to extricate yourself from whatever happens. It doesn’t matter who arranged the attack. What matters is that you did survive it, and you returned victorious. You’ve vindicated yourself, Erik.”

“Vindicated? What?”

“You’ve disappointed the family and me repeatedly, Erik. On Mara, losing your ’Mech, failing to secure the HPG station on Achernar. New Aragon was an opportunity to prove you deserved another chance to distinguish yourself. Your performance there was adequate, so I sent you to Shensi, where you availed yourself well.”

“I fought for my life and survived.”

“And if you hadn’t found a way to do that, then you wouldn’t deserve to be called a MechWarrior, or a Sandoval.”

Erik was finally speechless. Aaron clearly had no remorse—saw nothing at all wrong with his actions—and nothing Erik could say would change that in the least.

“You’ve proven yourself worthy, Erik. Therefore, I’m giving you command of our forces on St. Andre until I arrive. You’re to inspect the troops there and prepare them for a defensive action against House Liao. I want you to proceed there immediately, while I continue my mission to Poznan. Then I’ll rally the coalition forces, and we’ll see if we can turn that defense into a counterattack.”

Erik was silent.

“Erik, you should be honored!”

Honored? Under other circumstances, he would have been. Some time ago, they’d identified St. Andre as a key to stemming the House Liao incursion. Now their intelligence showed the world directly in the path of the Capellan advance, with leading forces already having flanked it on their way to Terra. A significant portion of the SwordSworn might have been allocated to the planet’s defense.

If Erik couldn’t hold the world, the surviving SwordSworn would have little hope of standing against House Liao, with or without coalition forces. Now that they had cut ties with The Republic, there was no turning back. The defense of St. Andre was either a bold venture or a desperate gamble, depending on how you looked at it. In any case, Erik was literally being entrusted with the survival of the SwordSworn.

“Mark my words. St. Andre will not fall.”

Then, disgusted at even being in the same room as the Duke, Erik left. The curse of free fall is that it doesn’t allow one to stomp out of a room. He floated down the hallway to a junction, then grabbed a handrail and just hung there. What was he going to do next?

Go to St. Andre, obviously. Organize the defense. Act like nothing had happened.

But it had. Now Erik carried in his head knowledge of the Duke’s deception. If that information were conveyed to the right people, it could ruin Aaron’s reputation and derail his coalition before it even began. Erik clung desperately to that thought.

Despite the authority of his new command, that information seemed the only real power he had. Yet, the problem with it was in how absolute that power was. Right now, he wanted to hurt his uncle, strike back at him. But was he really ready to destroy him?

Part of Erik said yes, but a calmer, more rational part told him to wait. If he lashed out now, he’d destroy himself right along with Aaron Sandoval. Take care of yourself first!

Ironically, it was his uncle who had taught him that. That was one lesson, at least, that Erik had learned well.

Monarch-class liner Boiler Bay

Ningpo jump point, en route to St. Andre

Prefecture V, The Republic

12 December 3134

Lieutenant Clayhatchee, having traveled by a more indirect route from Shensi, arrived at the Ningpo jump point eleven hours after Erik, in time to rejoin him for the trip to St. Andre.

Erik inquired after Elsa Harrad, but Clayhatchee reported she’d kept to herself after they managed to secure passage on a hurriedly departing cargo ship. He knew only that she’d remained on the JumpShip that had taken them out of the Shensi system, and seemed intent on finding passage elsewhere. Clayhatchee wasn’t privy to her destination.

Erik was disappointed, but unsure what he’d been expecting. A love letter? Coordinates for a secret rendezvous? He couldn’t blame Clayhatchee for failing to be more diligent in collecting information. He’d simply told him to get her off-planet, not spy on her movements or grill her for information.

In fact, he’d failed to tell anyone that she was, at the very least, a House Liao informant. There was a certain seductive danger that he was coming to appreciate in keeping secrets. As with the knowledge of the Duke’s treachery, this secret pleased him, made him feel more secure and powerful. He found himself wanting more.

Not wishing to stay on his uncle’s ship any longer than was absolutely necessary, Erik and his aide took a freighter back to New Aragon.

At the jump point there, Erik and Lieutenant Clayhatchee managed to secure passage on a Monarch–class liner, the Boiler Bay, bound directly for St. Andre. He took some small pleasure in charging their first-class accommodations to the Duke, but was slightly disappointed when the charges came to a relative pittance.

According to the ship’s steward, while passenger ships leaving the threatened planet were jammed, returning ships ran nearly empty. The Boiler Bay had two hundred and sixty-six staterooms. Fewer than fifty were currently booked, all in first class, all sold at cut-rate prices. The second-class deck had been turned over to the ship’s crew, who enjoyed the relative luxury.