Besides, who knew? Maybe, with a sick kid, one of the two subs lost, their UUVs vulnerable to the wildlife, and enough people dead, her rebellious Maritime Unit might be more than welcoming of a chance to step back into the fold. There was nothing like a good dose of Donovan to slap a bunch of soft meat back into line.

Time to take a trip back out there, and yes, she’d take a couple of marines with her. Michaela Hailwood’s people would be ready to listen to reason, one way or another.

That solved, she felt better. That old killer instinct awake in her gut again.

Feeling that way, what did she do about Dek Taglioni?

And there, Kalico, is your real dilemma.

“Think, damn it.” Her finger traced the slick scar along her jaw as she narrowed her eyes. Come on, where was the sly old Kalico? The one who’d played people like chess pieces, seduced, used, and discarded those who could help her on her rise to power? That Kalico should have been able to cunningly cut Talina’s throat while at the same time beguiling Dek, dazzling him, and offering so much more than Tal could possibly . . .

“What the hell are you thinking?” she asked herself angrily.

Makarov said nothing this time, knowing well enough to keep his mouth shut.

This wasn’t a Corporate game, and Dek wasn’t a trophy like some notch on the butt of her pistol.

And that’s the difference. She’d already won the grand prize. For once in her life, she could ask herself, what did Dek Taglioni mean to her? Not for her.

With no political advantage to be gained, no one to be compromised, no strategic value to the relationship, it didn’t even matter that he was a Taglioni. Well, okay, it did. But that was, as Shig would say, cultural baggage. No one on Donovan gave a damn, and she didn’t score any points by it.

Her gaze traveled out across the morning-bright forest, seeing the wealth of trees below; the tops of the various species of aquajade made a turquoise patchwork amidst the darker greens of the chabacho and stone wood. And there were other species down there, trees for which they had no name yet. So much of Donovan beckoned, unknown, unstudied, and uncatalogued.

Do I love the guy?

“Never had the freedom to ask a question like that,” she murmured.

Do I love Derek? There it was. Laid out for her analytical mind to dissect. Fact: She did enjoy the man’s company. He was the only person on the planet that she could talk to about the old days. Being a Taglioni, Dek understood her worldview, and shared that same cultural zeitgeist. They functioned under the same rules. And that proved comfortable for both of them.