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sight of the two, Lady Rezalla lost her renowned calm and demanded to know how a gently reared child of the Boynton-Chonderlee family could possibly have undertaken the retrieval.
    “He was my birth-sire and he deserved whatever final service I, his blood-kin, could provide. The thought of him, lost in space, spinning further and further away from where he could be most easily recovered, was too painful to bear,” Nimisha informed her mother, her face pale and rigid.
    Lady Rezalla regarded her body-heir with conflicting emotions, pride and approval vying with—Jeska said later to Nimisha—a tinge of jealousy mixed with anger that Nimisha had endangered herself when there were plenty of others to find . . . him.
    “Jeska, pour me a drink, one for yourself and—what will you have, my mother?” Nimisha said, stiffly walking to the nearest chair and collapsing in it with an abruptness that Lady Rezalla would, under other conditions, have criticized as too graceless for a young woman of her upbringing.
    “But you went
out
into space,” Lady Rezalla said, nodding gratitude as Jeska handed her a strong stimulant.
    “In a skiff and in EVA gear.”
    “In EVA gear?” Lady Rezalla’s eyes bulged, her hand went to her heart, and Jeska guided her glass to her lips for a restorative sip.
    “We were well instructed, Lady Rezalla,” Jeska said, with a worried glance at Nimisha, who was silent with shock. “Part of our managerial training, my lady. In case there should be a major disaster and total evacuation of the premises was required.”
    “Then what was today’s . . . horrid tragedy considered? A minor hiccup in normal procedures?” Lady Rezalla demanded, clearly recovering more quickly than Nimisha was.
    “A terrible accident, Lady Rezalla,” Jeska said, and she managed to get a handkerchief from a wrist pocket to blot her eyes of tears. “I understand that Admiral Narasharim herself is conducting the inquiry into how the tug was allowed to function without a proper spaceworthy certificate. She will be wishing to call on you, my lady, since neither Lord Vestrin nor Lady Vescuya are presently on Acclarke and someone must—” Jeska’s voice broke.
    “Take charge. Yes, of course, someone must take charge,” Lady Rezalla said, sitting straighter. “We
were
once contracted. We have a mutual child, my body-heir, and I have no doubt she will comport herself in a far more reverent and seemly fashion than that appalling young man who will now succeed him.” Lady Rezalla gave a shudder of dismay and repugnance. “Not that he has the talent to emulate his sire.” She took another long sip of the brandy. “Nimisha, drink that at once. You’re dead white with shock and you must recover your composure immediately. The Boynton in you requires
that.
And at least the worlds will know that one Rondymense scion carries the name with honor and credit.”
    Nimisha downed the entire glass and then threw it into a corner of the wall.
    Lady Rezalla blinked, but firmly pressed her lips together at the pleading look on Jeska’s face.
    “Yes, the Rondymense name will be honored as fully as I honor yours, my mother,” Nimisha said, clinging to the chair as she struggled to rise. “He will never be shamed by his daughter.” And she ran from the room, weeping.
    “But you’re
my
body-heir,” Lady Rezalla murmured, confused and a bit indignant. “Go with her, Jeska, and comfort her as best you can,” she added, whisking the girl out the door.
    As Jeska turned back before the automatic door slid into place, she saw Lady Rezalla, hands covering her face, shoulders heaving as she, too, wept for Lord Tionel.
     
    He had indeed left the entire Rondymense Ship Yard GmBH with all its assets, designs, and resources to Lady Nimisha Boynton-Rondymense—a bequest that Lord Vestrin Rondymense-Waleska instantly instructed his legal advisers to have reversed. He petitioned to be returned to Acclarke, having endured three years of his