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and send you back to the Vengeance. ”
    Shock vibrated through her with the unexpected reprimand. She deserved it; she’d angered him with her impertinence. The prime-admiral’s intensity reminded her of the times they’d sat around a war table in their younger days, planning strategy to thwart Drakken onslaughts. He’d been one of the Coalition’s greatest tacticians before moving into positions of power that took him off the bridge of a warship. For that reason, Brit had refused to follow in his footsteps. She wanted to be close to battle. She wanted to hear it, to feel it. She would not be denied the satisfaction of victory. The creation of the Triad wouldn’t change that. Serving with Horde wouldn’t change that. It would just…complicate it a little.
    She squared her shoulders, keeping the knuckles of her left hand pressed to her back. “That will not be necessary, sir. I’ll take the assignment…and obey your orders.” No matter how much she’d prefer serving on the Vengeance to taking part in an ill-advised political experiment that would never work! “You have my word.”
    Zaafran’s expression gentled unexpectedly. He took a few pacing steps away and drove a hand through thick salt-and-pepper hair. Once more, he seemed to struggle with what he wanted to say. “Gods, I’m sorry, Brit. My gut told me this may have been asking too much of you—or of anyone who experienced what you have. Your ties to the Arrayar Massacre…Gods, Brit, any normal person would—”
    “No.” She almost showed emotion. Almost. Her posture was perfection, her expression utter serenity. “We will not speak of that.”
    “It was a terrible tragedy—”
    “The subject is closed.” True to her nickname, her tone and her expression were cast of stone. “Sir,” she added, conscious of how close to insubordination she skated. Zaafran would know what few others did. Only a few high-ranking officials had access to her personnel records and a need-to-know regarding her life prior to her selection as a cadet in the prestigious Royal Galactic Military Academy. Zaafran had every right to doubt her ability to carry out his orders; her connection to Arrayar Settlement cast her objectivity into doubt and thus her ability to function as captain of the Unity. She wouldn’t fail, however. Her career was her life. Blast it all, her career was all she had left. She wouldn’t let the Drakken destroy it whether directly or indirectly.
    “I am not unbiased when it comes to the Horde,” she conceded. “Who amongst us is, Prime-Admiral, after all these years of war? Yes, I may have more reasons than most to distrust them, but I will not let it interfere with my duty. I regret that my flippant remarks regarding shipboard assignments led you to believe otherwise. I will complete this mission as ordered.” She shot him a sly glance. “You never said I had to like it, though.”
    His mouth twitched at her intentional humor. “There’s something else not to like, I’m afraid. Your new second-in-command. We’ve chosen Finnar Rorkken. He holds the Hordish rank of Warleader.”
    “Rorkken?” The blood drained from her head. Rorkken, that bastard, that thief. The wily brigand who’d evaded her every effort to ensnare him. “He’s the Scourge of the Borderlands!”
    “Was,” Zaafran corrected.
    “ Was one of the most notorious pirates in the disputed territories, I’ll have you know. I came close to capturing him once or twice. Had my primary focus not been on protecting Coalition worlds from the Imperial armada, Rorkken would have been mine.” Oh, how she’d longed for that face-to-face encounter: her triumphant, him in wrist and ankle cuffs. She’d have made him pay for the secret admiration she harbored for the man. “It’s been years since I’ve heard his name. I assumed he was dead. Though in truth, I haven’t given his pitiful soul much thought.”
    “He accepted a commission in the Imperial Fleet seven years ago.