Chapter 13

Bren faced Miller's disapproving look squarely, but they'd been working together for so long that she didn't back down, even though he was her commanding officer. "You have engine grease in your hair." She pointed out grimly.

He shrugged and gave her a slight smile, "I'm keeping it there as backup in case this docking is too rough."

The joke didn't make much of an impression on her. She shook her head and indicated the doorway that lead to his ready room. "Every section has reported in with no problems. We can start locking down as soon as you give the word, sir."

She followed him in, and Bren settled himself into his chair. "But first, you're going to shout at me for spending too much time on the flight deck."

"I've never shouted at you." Miller took up her usual position, sitting in the opposite chair with her fingers laced behind her head.

"No, you haven't. I was thinking of someone else." Bren let out a slow breath. With one thing and another, he'd been spun around a few too many times in the last few days.

"I'll be blunt. I think you're in danger, and you're leading the Silvana into danger. You aren't seeing things clearly, and I don't want any of us going down in flames — politically or literally — because you aren't being as careful about these so-called coincidences as you should."

Bren nodded once. "I hear you."

"You may be listening, but I haven't seen you come up for air since that vanship showed up on the Silvana's radars. I think you're living an old dream right now, and I don't want the Silvana or her crew to be around if it turns into a nightmare. You're spending time with some powerful people, and the Silvana is only neutral as long as it's not worth anyone's' time to shoot her out of the sky." She stared up at the ceiling, but Bren knew how serious she was.

It was a long-standing and lucrative relationship; Bren and Miller complemented each others strengths and weaknesses. She was only telling him the truth, and it was up to him to deal with it.

"Start lockdown." He said in his soft voice, then scratched his fingers through his short hair, sighing when he brought his hand down and noticed the black engine grease that Miller had first pointed out. He wiped his hand on his pants.

She gave him an amused look out of the corner of her eyes, and he started to chuckle. After a moment, there was a true smile on her face as well. She tapped her comm and sent out a brief instruction on all channels, then tapped it off again. "Talk to me, Bren. I'm asking you to let me help, as your first officer and as a friend."

Bren leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table. "You deserve the full story." Then he stopped, not knowing where to start.

"I started repairing and flying ships when I was eighteen. Anatoray had that stupid flight restriction even back then. By the time I was twenty-two, I was running courier missions with Carolina Forrester."

"The future queen of Anatoray."

"Empress." Bren corrected softly, "She wanted to break with Sikandar's traditionalist ruling style. She had it all planned out, even down to the title she wanted to use once she ascended the throne. We made a decent team. I ran the ships, she flew them. Her name got us some good contracts, and my knowledge of the business got those contracts completed on time, even though a couple at the beginning were designed for us to fail."

"Nothing surprising there." Miller leaned back in her chair and put her hands back behind her head.

"Then she took off on a contract in the Warlock. Ship crashed, pilot died. I got out of Lexington dock before Sikandar could find me."

"The Warlock." Miller said in a neutral voice.

"My Warlock."

"So this is all just a way to get a ship back?"

"No. Pilot Forrester can keep the Warlock. She's done a good job with it." He said, and his voice was mild. He harbored no secret desire to keep the ship for himself, and he could be honest about Sophia's skills. She was a good mechanic, as far as he'd seen of her work.

"So what is it, sir? We could drop the ship off the moment we dock at Essex, but instead you're demanding Anatorayen experts and ambassadors. There's one coming, by the way. So is this all about the princess herself?"

Bren tapped his fingertips on the table rapidly, but Miller waited for him to speak, "Probably. But why? I don't know for sure, myself. Maybe I feel guilty about what happened to her sister. She was my partner, after all. And lover." He added, remembering the sudden rush of desire that had hit him while sitting in the Warlock opposite Sophia, "Maybe I'm used to hanging around royalty now."