MALQUAZ JERKS AT the wrist restraints. His skin, pallid from lack of UV exposure, reddens where his arms rub. Shaded covering over the viewing port prevents nourishing light from reaching him.

Admiral Maxtin, with sleeves rolled to his elbows, scrubs goopy blood from hands and wrists. “More of my troops have died due to the faulty IMC weapons being passed off as legitimate high-quality weapons. Where did the shipment you transported originate?”

“I was just loading the cargo. I followed orders.”

“Then who gave you the orders to load the crates?” Maxtin demands.

“If I tell you he’ll kill me.”

“You think I won’t?” Maxtin flings water from his hands into the sink. “No record of you arriving here or even being brought into UCP territory exists.” He flips off the water. “I’ll just space you and bring in another of your loading crew until I discover where those weapons originated.”

Sweat beads line Malquaz’s scalp. “I need protection.”

“I’ve got plenty of guns you can utilize.”

Malquaz smacks his dry lips. “One of your agents. He ordered the substandard IMC weapons.”

“I’m aware Ki-Ton replaced the shipment of IMC weapons with fakes.” Maxtin presses a button and the dental-style security chair slides backward into a durasteel containment chamber. He removes a rifle from a storage cabinet. “These weapons you delivered to rebels on Sradanous VI had no association with him.”

Maxtin clamps a device around the trigger guard. “I don’t like asking twice for information I know you contain.”

Malquaz jerks his head. The storage room is heavily reinforced with durasteel rods.

Maxtin places the rifle across the lizard’s lap. “You knew these weapons were substandard. Based on the credits you deposited, you are the leader of the smugglers or you’re skimming from your fellow crewmates. If you are just a thief, then I won’t be able to commute your sentence.”

Maxtin seals the door, muffling Malquaz’s screams. He presses a button on the spherical object in his hand.

The blaster rifle discharges.

He opens the comm. Malquaz’s screams flood the speakers.

“Do you know that if you fire these inferior weapons in rapid succession, on the third discharge they explode? The substandard mineral content in the casing fails to absorb the heat.”

Maxtin presses the trigger.

Malquaz pleads for his life.

“Do I have your answer?”

“Hades. Malcolm Hades. He’s Larthinnian. Some kind of war hero whose regiment of Lances was blown asunder under his command. He turned to smuggling. Now let me out.”

Maxtin flicks off the comm before pressing the discharge button. He rolls down his sleeves. “Gibson.” He opens the ship communication transmitter.

“Yes, Admiral?”

“Inform the construction team to clean out the diagnostic chair and inspect the blast walls for structural damage. I just blew up another synthoid.”

“Right away, Admiral.”

Maxtin activates the secure subspace communications array. After a few minutes a bewhiskered Osirian appears on the monitor.

“Vlad.”

“Admiral. I never got the opportunity to thank you for…hiring us. The Summersun bonus improved our Lance rating.”

“When I put my agents at high risk I reward them.”

“I felt the Summersun operation was a onetime deal,” Vlad says.

Maxtin ignores the resistance play Vlad utilizes as a tactic to raise his price. “Have you heard of a merc called Malcolm Hades?”

“Only legends. Mercs pass around bar stories of Lance corps. They took their names from the Gods after Osiris. Hades was a Larthinnian who practiced some dark religion before battle. In other stories, he earned medals of valor on every planet he fought. Medals no mercs were ever recognized with.”

“I suspect the truth lies in the middle of those two stories. He’s a known smuggler.”

“Even if half the stories are true, he needs to be leading merc units against the Mokarran.”

“He’s in possession of vital information. Your Lance should locate and detain him,” Maxtin says.

“I have no problem dying for the credits you offer, but what you want goes against the merc code.”

“He’s not a merc anymore, but only Lancers are capable of bringing him in.”

“If this screws sideways—”

“I’ll compensate you. I’ll provide you with a nice retirement inside the Riftgate.”

“Your UCP has laws that anyone allowed residence inside the Riftgate planets must have employment. It’s why so many refugees are stranded on the outer solar system planets.”

“If you need employment incentive to complete this mission, your team will function as private security contractors. Many dignitaries would welcome extra security on my flagship who are not UCP regulars.”

“Sounds a bit cushy.”

“Once delegatory meetings transpire on my ship, you’ll wish you were back facing Mokarran.”

“I’ll need some nonrefundable travel money. Hades transformed himself into a myth. He won’t be quick to find.”

“Hire him to smuggle you somewhere,” Maxtin suggests.

“Doable, as a backup plan.”

“Find him, quickly.”

Maxtin cuts the transmission before Gibson enters.

“You’ve spent most of my senatorial sources into crazed abandon,” Gibson kvetches.

“Behaving like a Hardaren doesn’t befit you, Gibson.” Maxtin stares out his window at the blackness of space, his back to her.

“Normally no, but Kantian has been persistently contacting his allies in the Senate about this proposed term limit for at least all future elected Vice-presidential Admirals.”

“Of course, he’s the candidate to introduce such legislation.”

Gibson stares, dumbfounded.

“Kantian wants to be elected once Easter passes. This will be the first VP Admiral election since the establishment of the UCP. There’s no interested candidate with his level of support after he liberates Summersun.” Maxtin contemplates. “Term limits discourage corruptive practices.”

“He didn’t liberate Summersun.”

“View the transmissions on ISN. Kantian is a hero.”

“The media spins the victory in his favor. The new Zayar alliance had just as much to do with it,” she says.

“People will believe what the media tells them.”

Gibson smiles. Maxtin’s flagrant disregard of the law is presenting in protecting the UCP from succumbing to extinction, but criminal practices are still criminal practices even if they are for the betterment of all.

“If I propose such an amendment, then why am I not willing to accept its practice upon myself? Will I surrender to a term limit or perhaps a reelection process? No.”

“Kantian is Admiral Easter’s endorsement for her replacement. If he doesn’t support her last policy, he’ll lose votes. She has selected him because his agenda closely resembles her beliefs.”

“Exactly. It actually should win him admiration among those who feel the government’s already too strong. He’s saying, ‘I want to lead you, but not be your king.’”

“And you keep your measure of control,” she says.

“The other VP-Admirals are ageing as well. None of them live as long as Zayars do. If a warmongering candidate replaces one of them, I doubt I can prevent war with the Mokarran,” Maxtin says.

“Every day you dissuade conflict our military grows stronger.”

“It grows greener, too. A thousand inexperienced troops die faster than fifty battle-hardened warriors.”

“Our troops have the best training. They will overcome ingenuousness.”

“Regard your soldiers as your children, and they will follow you into the deepest valleys; look on them as your own beloved sons, and they will stand by you even unto death,” says Maxtin.

Gibson ponders Maxtin’s words. He has become her father, at least mentoring her the way a father should. “You’ve raised your sons and daughters well.”

“The message was from an eon when only men went to war. Placating only to those who only see flaws in gender pronouns loses the understanding of the message. Too many people focus on the wrong predicament or make up a dilemma to mask the real problem,” Maxtin says. “As a good father, then, it becomes time to kick my children from the nest. As Kantian settles into his new assignment as the Outer Dimensional Coordinator, a captain’s vacancy becomes available.”

“You’re talking about supervising the rebuild of the Deliverance.”

“Officially it’s a refit,” Maxtin says.

“Semantics doesn’t change the damage to the vessel. He lost half the crew.”

“Its frame remained intact.”

“And the crew…Kantian handpicked most of them,” she says.

“Some will always be loyal to him. Many have already transferred to new assignments. I make the appointment official and you select your own crew to fill any vacancies.”

“Have I dissatisfied you?” she asks.

“You believe this is punishment? No, you’ve earned your command. And I want many allies captaining the fleet.”