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ones without futures weren't that smart.
    Most of them believed Jerald was the traitor. I could see why they automatically pointed at him, but I had my doubts. First of all, I hadn't heard any deception in his voice when he'd proclaimed his innocence. Second, if he'd been

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    in on the kidnapping, why was he still stuck in the medical bay with the rest of us?
    Which brought me to the one person who wasn't in the medical bay: Rikard.
    I thought back to the night of the capture. Flashguns could blind a man even if his eyes were closed. The only ways to protect one's vision were to wear mirrored shades, as the pirates had done, or to be heavily blindfolded, as Rikard had been. Which meant he might be the only
    prisoner on board who still had his sight. Rikard had also been fully dressed, even though it had been late. I hadn't seen him fully dressed the entire time we'd been on board, until that night.
    Could he really be so low?
    It wasn't hard to believe it of him. Although he was the son of one of the richest men in the quadrant, he resented the stipend his father forced him to live on. Never mind that it was still far more money than most men would see in a lifetime. Rikard squandered it. He gambled it away.
    He always wanted more.
    He was by the far the likeliest candidate.
    The next question I had to ask myself was, did it
    matter? I was captain of his guard, and therefore I followed his orders, but my oath was not to him. My oath was to the Regency.

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    It wasn't up to me how the Regency handled her
    business. It also wasn't up to me how Rikard used his guard. If, after our release, I was convinced of his guilt, I could ask for a transfer. But whatever the prince may or may not have done, whatever the Regency herself may or may not have been guilty of, was moot. Only one thing mattered: I was a sworn officer of the Regency Militia.
    That fact remained unchanged.
    I had mixed feelings when Pierce came to tell me
    his captain wanted to see me. On one hand, I'd found my resolve in his absence, and I feared he would find a way to make me question it again. On the other hand, I was bored of sitting in the medical bay doing absolutely nothing. It was horrifically tedious.
    I assumed I would be taken to Valero's quarters
    again. I was surprised to find him waiting for me just outside the door to the medical bay.
    "I thought we might take a walk," he said.
    It seemed odd, but who was I to argue?
    "I must admit," he said, once we were alone in the lift, "I hadn't intended to see you again."
    His words almost made me smile. "Then why are
    we here?"
    He laughed. "It seems my fascination with you
    outweighs my anger."

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    The lift stopped and he led me out. I knew
    immediately we were someplace I hadn't been before. First of all, there was carpet under my bare feet. Except for the fur rug in Valero's quarters, none of the ship I'd been to so far had carpet. The air was cooler than even the lift had been, and it smelled different. It wasn't the antiseptic and unwashed-man smell of the medical bay. It also wasn't the rubber-on-metal smell that seemed to permeate the
    hallways of the ship. Instead, the air seemed…
    Empty.
    "Where are we?" I asked, and my voice almost seemed to echo, giving me the impression of a large room, like the hold, except without the smell of sheep shit.
    "Once upon a time, it was an observation deck, but nobody comes up here anymore, unless we're in port." He took my arm and led me across the room. Twenty-eight paces, and then he stopped me, placing my bound hands on a metal rail in front of me. I felt up from there, and found smooth glass, icy-cold to the touch. I imagined the sheer, empty blackness of the blind space on the other side.
    "I realize it's rather rude to bring a blind man to a room designed specifically for providing a view," he said,
    "but I wanted us to be alone, and I thought you might be more