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enough desperate beings in her life to recognize how dangerous the tiziran was in this state. Holding her hands up, she tried to reassure him. “That’s not my intent. If it was, I’d have surrendered you to the authorities before we left when they demanded I do so.”
    Confusion furrowed his brow. “Pardon?”
    She moved slowly toward the wall monitor. “Here. I’ll show you.” She called up the feed to replay what he’d missed while he’d been unconscious.
    As he watched it, his jaw went slack. By the look on his face, it was obvious he wasn’t used to anyone standing up for him. He turned to stare at her in disbelief. “Why would you risk your crew for me?”
    â€œWhy did you save my son?”
    â€œI didn’t think anyone else would. I just wanted to make sure he got home safely.”
    The honesty of his unexpected answer floored her. “Well, you have yourself to thank for not being in custody or dead. That decision is the only reason you’re here. You saved him and we saved you. We’ll drop you off at the nearest station, then—”
    â€œIf you don’t mind, I’d rather you just jettison me somewhere unpopulated. I only ask that it has a breathable atmosphere.”
    â€œSeriously?”
    He nodded and wiped at the perspiration on his brow. His tanned skin had a sudden grayish tint to it.
    Concern furrowed her brow. “You need to get back in bed and rest.”
    He shook it off. “I’ll be fine. I just need my clothes.”
    Like her husband, he was a stubborn Andarion male. Knowing she couldn’t win against him, Ushara went to the cabinet to retrieve his gear. She hesitated as she saw the poor, threadbare condition it was in. His boots were worn so thin, the left one had a hole in the toe of it that was packed with taped-in plastic to keep it watertight. Though he kept his clothes meticulously clean, his pants were patched and faded. The once black, now dark grayish shirt was stretched out from overuse and age.
    Feeling bad for him, she held them out so that he could take them from her. “Can I get you anything else?”
    He gathered his clothes and glanced about sheepishly. “Might I ask a favor, Ger Tarra?”
    â€œIt’s mu tara,” she corrected the Andarion term, letting him know that she wasn’t married. Though why she did so, she wasn’t exactly sure. “What?”
    â€œIs there a shower on board that I may use?”
    She gestured toward the door on her right. “Through there. You’ll find soaps, razor, and towels as well.”
    He gave her a very regal bow. “Thank you.” The sincere gratitude in those words was startling as he headed for the bathroom. He left his boots, weapons, and coat on the bed.
    Ushara took a moment to reexamine them, especially the numerous bloodstains on the worn dark brown coat that Jullien had attempted to clean off and yet the stains stubbornly remained as bitter reminders of how many had tried to kill him.
    Repeatedly. Their grim determination was a testament to his own resolute will to stay alive in spite of their best efforts.
    The leather showed remnants of dozens of burn marks left behind from blaster wounds, as well as slashes from knives and other weapons where he’d repaired the leather with patches and jagged stitches as best he could.
    â€œDamn,” she breathed. Did he not have anyone in the universe who cared about him?
    For that matter, who’d issued the death warrant? His mother was the tadara of the Andarion empire. His father ruled the Triosans, which meant Jullien would have cousins in power, ruling other empires and governments throughout the universe, as well. He would have to be related to most emperors, and have ties to the rest. His twin brother, Nykyrian Quiakides, was one of the leaders of The Sentella, a military organization that rivaled The League for power. Not to mention, he was married to