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“I am.”

“You have to prove it.”

“How?”

“Oh, we’ll find a way.”

Wedge stepped into the officers’ mess, took a quick look around, and froze.

Donos was among the other Wraiths. Chatting. Laughing, despite the new gauntness to his features.

Face, on the other hand, didn’t look at all well. There were circles under his eyes. He had obviously lost sleep. But he seemed cheerful enough.

Kell and Tyria looked just as bad, sleep-deprived and weary. Yet they seemed even more than cheerful.

Wedge’s sudden appearance caught the Wraiths’ attention. Their conversation cut off and they turned to look at him.

Wedge straightened and nodded sardonically at Face. In a mild tone, he said, “Captain Darillian to the bridge.”

Face scrambled up and out the door. He wouldn’t be going to the bridge, of course; Darillian’s seat of command was the comm center.

Wedge jerked his head for Janson to join him. His second-in-command was at his side in an instant. They headed toward Night Caller’s true bridge.

“What’s with Myn?” Wedge asked.

“I don’t know. They’re not telling me. But he seems to be functional.”

“Good. One crisis averted. What’s with all the tired faces?”

“I, well, don’t know. Maybe a late-night sabacc game they don’t invite senior officers to?”

“Fine. Anything else you don’t know?”

“Yes. Something happened with Kell yesterday.”

“What?”

“I don’t know.”

Wedge stopped short and gave Janson a reproving look.

“No, really, I don’t know. We talked. About his father. I got the impression that he’d been thinking of me as some sort of avenging monster who vaped people for screwups. I also got the impression that he really hadn’t been plotting my death every time he came within a few meters of me … in fact, that he might have been scared stiff.”

“That can actually look the same.”

“Anyway, this morning, things had changed. For the first time, he didn’t become a tower of knotted muscles when I sat down to breakfast.”

“Good.” They swept into the bridge. “Lieutenant Tabanne, put the compiled transmission up on the main monitor.”

“Yes, sir.”

Face sat at the comm officer’s chair, activated the voice and visual translators, and put them through the fastest possible diagnostic check. Both came up in the green. The computers controlling the comm center’s cameras thought they were tracking his body motions correctly.

He sat back, thought for a moment about an aging prima donna of a leading man he’d worked with once, and was instantly in character for Captain Darillian. He turned toward the comm center’s main holoprojector, hit the button to activate transmission, and prepared to speak to Admiral Trigit.

The three-dimensional image of Warlord Zsinj materialized before him.

Face took an extra-deep breath and broadened his smile to cover his surprise. “My lord. I am honored.”

Zsinj’s smile was one of condescension and amusement. “But not honored enough to do your job correctly.”

Face let his eyebrows rise. How had Darillian responded to scorn in his memoirs? With outrage. But the man would never direct an angry response to Warlord Zsinj. No, hurt was the order of the day. “My lord … I have failed you in some way? You have called to tell me I no longer deserve your patronage. It’s the life of a pirate for Darillian …”

“Oh, stop being such a baby. It leeches all the fun out of scolding you.” Zsinj heaved an annoyed sigh. “I received the relay of your report on the visit to Blood Nest.”

Pretending not to be fully recovered from the wound to his pride, Face shrugged. “A pity they chose to reject your offer. But since my avoidance of their ambush was so brilliantly successful, I feel I have left them with something to think about. Perhaps they will be more cordial when I return.”

Zsinj shook his head. “I don’t believe so. Blood Nest is gone.”

Face leaned forward and assumed an incredulous expression. “They fled?”

“No, and that’s the problem. Sometime after you departed, Blood Nest was destroyed. In fact, every site you’ve visited