Crichton studied the map in his hand, then strode down the hallway and pushed open the heavy gilded doors that separated the royal chambers from the rest of the palace. At the guard station two young Hynerian guards playing a game of cards in the Mirror Hall snorfled and stumbled over each other to stand at attention. They pulled at their long whiskers and elbowed each other.

"Good evening, ser!"

"May we help you, ser?"

"Do you require an audience with the Dominar, ser?"

"Third string, huh?" said Crichton. "Why do they always put the worst ones on at night? Is it a union thing?"

"He's… indisposed, ser, Mr. Lord Crichton, ser."

"How about you kids go take a potty break." Crichton drew his pulse pistol. "I'll take over guard duties."

The two amphibians bugged eyes at each other.

Crichton smiled. "Scoot."

The Hynerians blanched and buzzed away, bumping into each other in their hurry to get outside the chamber door. Crichton looked at Ruby. Then he arched an eyebrow at his own reflection in the Mirror Hall. His teeth were clean, his nails were trimmed and, overall, he was the very model of a modern American astronaut, all fed on milk chocolate and Wonder bread and the love of a good woman. He looked very sincere and normal and not vicious at all. He looked back over his shoulder where the doors were still swinging. A year ago he would have been on the floor getting a hard boot in the chin if he'd tried something like that. Or maybe even a pulse blast to the brain.

Heh. Having the rep to back up your threats was pretty cool.

He used his sigil ring to open Rygel's gilded door and stepped inside.

The Dominar's chamber looked like it was carved out of a geode. Quartz crystals glittered in soft orange light from luminescent fungi. The cavern was damp and chilly. A small peat fire had been stoked in a marble firepit in the center of the room, but it had been allowed to bank down. Evidence of a recent debauch was everywhere: clothing thrown around the room, empty wine bottles, plates with the remains of a large meal, burnt-up incense sticks, jewels everywhere. Among this mess Rygel snored on a purple silk cushion, his mouth slightly open, his golden scepter still clutched in his little green fist.

Crichton came to the side of the cushion and squatted down. He leaned all the way over until he was speaking directly in the Hynerian's ear. "Rygel."

Rygel woke with a gasp and a shudder.

Crichton grabbed him by the throat, swung him around and pushed him up against the wall, hard enough that the king would be seeing stars for a minute or so. He put the barrel of the pulse pistol to Rygel's small head. "Buckwheat, Sparky, Fluffy, Peanut, how you doin'?" he hissed. Rygel wriggled and whined. "You know for such an important person your guards suck."

"Get… frelled… Crichton," Rygel gasped.

Crichton lifted Rygel and slammed him into the wall again. "Well, let's talk about that, Dominar. Last time we had a little face-to-face you were getting ready to fight for your throne. You and Chiana. Chiana and you. And I figure that's probably a doomed escapade but it's your life. Until all of a sudden through no fault of mine it becomes my life all over again. They came to Moya, you corrupt old bastard. They came to Moya, they hurt Aeryn, and they got this close to my kid." Crichton took the glass spear from his pocket and got it less than an inch from Rygel's eye. "Tell me it wasn't your fault."

Rygel made a hacking noise and expelled a glob of green slobber onto Crichton's face. Crichton didn't even flinch. Rygel's eyes were tearing up but his face was stony. "Go ahead and murder me if you think you've got the mivvonks for it."

Crichton stood there for a moment longer. Then he let Rygel go and backed off. The old frog fell to the floor and huddled there, shivering and coughing. Crichton wiped the slime from his face with his sleeve and holstered Ruby. He looked down at Rygel's huddled form and then blinked and looked away.

"Lunatic probacto." Rygel hefted himself to his webbed feet. "How dare you put your hands on me. I could have you executed. I should."

"Maybe you should," said Crichton. "What the hell did you do?"

"I used all the resources in my arsenal."

Crichton took a deep breath and let it out through his nose. Calm. He was working on calm. "Did you tell them I gave you wormhole weapons?"

"During the course of my ascension, I may have… allowed certain parties to draw their own conclusions." Rygel smiled a serpent's smile.

"Oh my God," said Crichton. He sat down on the cool floor and gripped his temples.

Rygel was silent—and patient.

"They came for me," Crichton murmured, "because they think I'm backing you."

"Mm. And how many small bags did you and Aeryn need to clean up the bodies?"

"Screw you, Rygel. You frelled and used me."

"You bet your huge pink ass I did. And you should show a little gratitude."

"Gratitude? Damn it, I was out!"

"Grow up," said Rygel, curling his lip. He called his throne chair over and climbed in it. "You don't get to be out. None of us do. Ever. While you've been pretending that you can frell off with your wife, I've been handling your affairs, in addition to my own infinitely more important and valuable ones. Do you have any idea what it's been like? Of course you don't because just like your Peacekeeper cousins you think the Galaxy stops turning when you stop paying attention to it."

He whirled around Crichton, his tone harsh and persuasive. "The only reason you've had any peace at all is because of me. The only reason Chiana isn't in a Scorvian torture chamber or a Nebari cleansing center right now is because of my rule. And the only reason your precious home planet isn't in cinders right now is because anybody who attacked Earth would be starting a war with me. Which would you prefer? Being the target of my weak and desperate enemies? Or watching the whole universe get together to eat your heart? Because that's what's next, if you can't pick a mark and stay on it."

Rygel lowered himself down to look in his old friend's eyes. "Look at me. Look at my face," he said. Deep down below the greed and the pettiness his bloodshot yellow eyes were heavy with a knowledge that Crichton could scarcely imagine. "This isn't Space Chase with a few PK defectors in the Uncharted Territories. You've dealt yourself into the real game now. It's every day until you're dead. And you will not be able to brass your way out of it. That's the cost of what you did. What you did, Crichton. To yourself, me, Chiana, Moya and—"

Crichton lifted his hand to make Rygel stop. "Don't say it."

"I don't have to." He squeezed Crichton's shoulder. "Congratulations on waking up like an emperor."

Crichton was about to speak, to argue, but then his coms crackled and he forgot everything he was about to say. He homed in on his wife's voice as a compass needle to true north. And then his attention wavered, just a bit.

The other voice coming over the channel was Scorpius's.