While I had been prepping the ship for interstellar flight, I had allowed Preston to cut away the sleeve of my jumpsuit and bandage the wound gouged by the shotgun pellet. He’d done a passable job, but his hands had shaken throughout the procedure and his temples had been wet with sweat.

The good news was that, although the lesion had been deep and would leave me with a finger-thick scar, I’d only lost skin and meat; the muscles were almost entirely unaffected and, although my arm hurt, I could still use it.

At the mention of Preston’s name, Clay made a face and looked away. “He’s useless.”

“It’s worse than that,” I told her. “His daddy’s some bigwig general, and pulled strings to get his son into the House. The brat didn’t even finish his first year at the Academy.”

Clay’s head whipped around. “You are shitting me.”

I held up my palms, showing her that I was concealing nothing. “Straight up. Without Childe and Petrushka, we’re flying without a qualified medic.”

“Damn.” Clay stretched the word out to two syllables. “Well, I guess that puts a new slant on things.”

Something sparked beneath the console. Nod growled. One of its faces came back and pulled a wrench from its tool belt, and proceeded to bludgeon whatever had caused the short circuit. I raised my voice over the sound of its hammering.

“Preston admitted it to my face, which puts me in a tricky position.” I drummed my fingers on the arm of the chair. “If I know he’s unqualified and anything goes wrong, I’m culpable.”

“So, instead of turning back to get a new medic…”

“We use these two.”

Clay scratched her eyebrow. “I have concerns.”

She always did—but this time, I knew what she meant. Our guests were professional liars and maybe even professional killers. They had served on opposite sides of the most recent schism to tear a hole in the peace and accord of the Generality. They might think they were working together right now, but what would happen when one gained a political or strategic advantage over the other?

“For now, they’re the best we’ve got,” I said, dismissing the thought. “If we want to reach that wreck within a realistic timeframe, we don’t have a lot of choice. But we can kick up hell when we get back to Camrose.”

Clay drew back, her auburn eyes appraising me with barely camouflaged disdain. “Okay,” she finally conceded, “they can stay. But I’m not happy about it.”

I raised my eyebrows in mock surprise. “I didn’t think for a moment you would be. But I’m the captain here, and it’s my decision.”

Clay flicked her gaze to the ceiling. “What about the Trouble Dog? What’s she got to say?”

I tapped the comms button on my console. “Ship, are you listening?”

“Of course.”