Cavalon’s face went bright red, and he glanced anxiously at Adequin. Snyder stepped forward, face-to-face with Cavalon, who met the challenge head-on, jaw tight.
“You’re not just any Mercer, are you? You’re the heir…” Snyder’s shoulders swelled. “You know your granddad’s little ‘Heritage Edict’ forced my entire family off Viridis? We’d been there for five generations.”
Cavalon gulped.
“Then, when they tried to get the mutation corrected,” Snyder continued, “they were refused treatment since they were no longer Core citizens ‘in good standing.’ That’s quite a fucking loophole.”
That sent them all into an uproar, and they began slinging a host of other accusations at Cavalon. Adequin expected him to jump on the defensive, but he stood his ground and remained silent. She didn’t know how he could tolerate letting them rail on him like that. All they saw was a name. They had no idea how sympathetic he was.
Adequin watched the anger circulating through the small group of soldiers, thinking back to their conversation before the Drudgers’ arrival. He’d called the timing of the Resurgence “convenient.” He thought the SC had instigated the war in order to cover up this kind of unrest. It’d sounded so far-fetched at the time.
But the longer it sat with her, the more sense it made. Fielding the newly exposed Viator fleet had required a decisive and unified offensive. The Legion had long since been split into duty zones—by planets or systems or sectors. But after that day, for the first time in two hundred years, the First had been reunited in order to move against the new foe.
And a sweeping, galactic-wide sense of patriotism had come along with it. For the first time, Adequin had seen the real value of the System Collective, the reason so many on her home world had worked so hard and sacrificed so much to gain full citizenship.
That pride—that sense of unity—had fed her confidence in the early days of the war. And her resolve as the years dragged on. She couldn’t stomach the thought of it all being orchestrated.
Snyder’s fists clenched, and he took a threatening step toward Cavalon. Adequin moved to intercede.
“Soldiers!” she barked. They fell silent and looked at her. “Not that I should have to justify a goddamn thing to any of you, but this kid’s more than pulled his weight in the last thirty-six hours. So why don’t you cut him some slack—”
“Bullshit!” Snyder shouted. “What use is an entitled prince, never mind a Mercer—”
Adequin grabbed the circitor by the front of his vest and pushed him into the wall beside the door. Blood rushed through her veins, fueled by rage, and her head pounded in protest. She kept him pinned with one hand and pinched the bridge of her nose with the other, then took a deep, slow breath and fixed her glare on Snyder’s wide eyes.
She unclenched her teeth, keeping her voice low and calm. “I’m just now remembering your file, Snyder. Conspiracy and solicitation, right? Blackmailing superior officers, aggravated assault, and a whole handful of counts of being drunk at your post.”
Snyder’s cheeks darkened.
“He may have fucked up too,” Adequin continued, “but he’s the reason we had enough fuel in the warp core to escape the Divide. He’s helped fight off Drudgers twice, and he repaired the hull of the Hermes so we weren’t all stranded in space forever. How many times have you saved our lives in the last twenty-four hours, Snyder?”
His Adam’s apple bobbed a few times before he found his voice back. “Uh, zero, sir.”
She gave him a few slow, deliberate nods. His head bounced as he followed her eyes.
“Zero.” She shoved him against the wall again, then let go. “So shut up.”
He nodded quickly. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”