The Dushegubs struggled with the drill’s controls. It was made for someone with slender digits rather than thick roots.

“If Caldenia wanted to go out in a ‘blaze of glory’ she’s had plenty of opportunities to do so.”

Sean shook his head. “But none like this. Killing her nephew, the Sovereign, on Earth, in an inn, live, or almost live on galactic television. It would be even bigger than killing her brother.”

“I don’t think she’ll do it.”

“She could though.”

“But she won’t.”

The drill flashed with lights. The Dushegubs flailed their roots.

“Do you trust her that much?”

“I don’t trust her. I trust her survival instincts. Sean, this woman ruled over six star systems. She gave it all up to come live at this inn where she drinks Mello Yello and tries to murder tomatoes in her garden with her lack of nurturing skills. She did it because it was the only way to survive. Her will to live is that strong.”

“Why did she kill her brother?”

“Nobody knows.”

Sean sighed. “And that’s the problem. If she gave up six star systems to eliminate her brother, would she give up exile in the inn to eliminate her nephew?”

The Dushegubs planted the drill against the wall and turned it on. Sparks flew.

“I guess we’ll find out,” I said.

“True. It’s not like we have a choice.”

The only choice would be to exclude Caldenia completely by confining her to her quarters, and neither of us would do that.

Sean looked at the world a little differently than I did. I kept track of various possibilities, but I was decent at predicting what would happen. Sean concentrated on what could happen, and there was a vast difference between the two. It made us a good team.

The Dushegub closest to the hole got hit with a spray of sparks and slithered away, hissing up a storm.

“There’s one thing that puzzles me,” Sean said. “You’re Kosandion. Your aunt killed your father and started an interstellar war. You see her, finally, after all this time, and you are civil to her. You are completely unbothered by her presence. Your heart rate doesn’t rise, your pupils don’t dilate, your breathing stays even. He wasn’t pretending. He was cool as a cucumber. Why?”

I spread my arms.

The Dushegubs withdrew the drill and inspected the quarter inch deep hole they’d managed to make. Branches shook, roots slithered, and they put the drill back in.

“Far enough?” I wondered.

“Yeah,” Sean agreed.

The leading Dushegub turned the drill on. An electric arc splayed out of the hole, hitting the drill dead center. The drill exploded. The miner Dushegub flew back, smoking, and landed on mud island. The rest of the killer trees chased it and tried to roll it into the water.

Sean smiled.

“People are complicated,” I said.