Free Dreadnought (Lost Colonies Trilogy Book 2) by B. V. Larson

kind of a record...”
    “Good,” I said, then I turned to Durris. “First Officer, I want you to spearhead the effort.”
    “I don’t know if I’m right for the job, sir,” he said. “I’ve already been fooled once. Perhaps another would be—”
    “No,” I said firmly.
    Durris was being Durris again. He was an excellent officer, but he was a little too quick to blame himself for every error. This made him meticulous and thorough—but also somewhat lacking in self-confidence. That was probably the primary reason he’d yet to earn a command of his own.
    “I have every confidence in you,” I continued, speaking in a firm voice. “I have confidence in all of you. Remember, I missed the enemy spies too. This is our chance to rectify that error.”
    The meeting broke up, and I moved on to even less savory duties. Gathering most of the ship’s complement of spacers, I committed our three lost comrades to float eternally in hyperspace. I wondered, as I shot them out into a formless gray void between vague reference points, whether their souls would ever find true peace out here.
    That evening, a tone sounded at my cabin door. I’d removed my overcoat, but I quickly put it back on again and let the coat cinch-up its ties. It wouldn’t do for a crewman to see me lounging after having conducted a painful funeral.
    The door chimed a second time before I reached it. Could that be irritation shining through in the attitude of my visitor? That was my impression.
    I dissolved the door and looked at Lady Grantholm in surprise.
    “Dinner…” I said after we’d stared at one another for a few seconds.
    “That’s why I’m here, yes,” she said. She knit her brows together giving me an up-down look of disapproval. “Don’t tell me you forgot, William? I’m your Great Aunt. Captain or not, one would think—”
    “I’m sorry, Lady. Won’t you enter and dine with me?”
    She swept by me with a sniff. Seeing there was no food laid out, much less a sumptuous repast fitting her station, she muttered under her breath.
    “What was that, Lady?”
    “I said one would think you’d forgotten your upbringing. Are you a Sparhawk, or a simple guardsman?”
    “Both, madam,” I said evenly, but the truth was, she was getting on my nerves. “You must excuse my distraction. I lost three crewmen and learned three others were traitors today.”
    Grantholm stepped away and made a fluttering gesture over her shoulder with painted fingers. “Commoners, William. Don’t tie up your mind or your emotions with them. They live short, brutal lives. They’re important of course—but not worthy of grief for a person of your station.”
    My jaw muscles clenched. “I disagree,” I said. “Vehemently.”
    She glanced at me and pursed her lips. “Let’s discuss more important matters. We have things to iron out between us.”
    “Such as?”
    “Your role and mine as we exit this bridge. You’re in command of this ship. You rule your crew and this vessel in every respect.”
    “I’m glad you understand the situation thoroughly.”
    “But,” she said loudly. She flicked up one of her painted fingers toward my cabin’s ceiling. The tip was a glossy lavender. “ I command this mission beyond the limits of this ship’s hull.”
    I frowned at her. “Meaning?”
    “Don’t be dense, Sparhawk. I mean if we meet other colonists, I’ll do the talking. You’re to stand by silently, flying your ship with dignity. Do you understand?”
    “I take it from your overly dramatic statements that you think I might try to upstage you somehow?”
    She tilted her head to the left. “You have a certain reputation. You bulled your way back to Earth in this ship, and you earned command of her. But that doesn’t mean you’re a king. You’re a captain in Star Guard—that’s all. The position is comparable to that of a ferry pilot.”
    “A ferry pilot?” I demanded incredulously.
    “I’m sorry if I may seem rude. I find it’s best to