A month ago, the deep-core aliens had emerged from the cloud decks of Dasra and destroyed Roamer ekti-harvesting facilities there, the aliens’ fifth such target. The Dasra attack played out the same as all the others: Huge crystalline globes attacked with no warning, no mercy, accepting no surrender. The aliens had annihilated the skymine despite transmitted pleas, leaving no wreckage or survivors.

Thus, the deep-core aliens had proved they lived within this system, and Branson Roberts had orders to find them. How many other gas giants did the enemy inhabit? Were all of them danger zones?

He thought of Rlinda Kett, with her generous body and expansive moods. She always called him her favorite ex-husband, and he called her his favorite ex-wife, though he had only been married once. Roberts had proven to be a mediocre husband but an excellent pilot, so Rlinda kept him on with her small merchant fleet. He’d made a good profit flying the Blind Faith, enough to keep him content and let him pretend that he lived a playboy existence, so Rlinda would not take pity on his loneliness.

But the small fleet’s easygoing success had careened to a halt when this alien trouble began. Rlinda had lost the Great Expectations to Rand Sorengaard’s pirates, and now three of her other ships had been commandeered by the EDF. In order to keep his pilot’s license and a ship to fly, Branson Roberts found himself forced to run errands for General Lanyan.

The General had sent a specific summons to Roberts, bringing him to EDF headquarters on Mars. In a private staff office, with the door closed and broad skylights open to an olive-green sky, Lanyan had made his proposal. He had not stood when Roberts entered the office, but remained at his desk, which was piled with data reports and multiple screens that showed endless troop deployments and combat exercises.

After only a few words, Roberts realized that the General had already pulled his files, studied his piloting career and track record, and knew more about Branson Roberts than he generally wanted anyone to know.

It was going to be an offer Roberts couldn’t refuse. No doubt about that.

“Your dossier suggests you are quite a daredevil pilot, Captain Roberts. I have already noted how well you comported yourself when my squad used you as bait to catch the criminal Rand Sorengaard. In addition, I see you have performed dangerous runs, black market deliveries, and risky navigation.”

Roberts felt a cold prickle of sweat along his neck. “General, sir, I assure you I have never been convicted of or even charged with anything illegal. You can check my criminal record—”

Lanyan waved him into a seat. “Let’s not get into that, Captain. It’s a red herring, and I don’t have time for it.”

Roberts quickly sat down, folded his hands in his lap, and waited in silence.