"An assignment for which there are to be absolutely no security leaks."

"That's right." Disgust was again evident in Renford's voice.

"And just what is this assignment?"

The Admiral shrugged. "All Hyatt would say was that he needed someone with a background similar to your own-someone with extensive hand-to-hand training and experience in security. And he wanted a qualified ship's pilot."

Once more Susan thought of Aldebaran, and flashes of the nightmare entered her mind. "I'm no longer a ship's pilot."

"You're wrong," Renford said. "You were never stricken from the active roster. The only thing holding you back is your own lack of confidence. That's all that has ever held you back."

No, Susan thought, he is wrong. Although she had been vindicated ten years ago at her court-martial-it had been said more than once that she had done more for her crew than humanly possible, seeming to be in more than one place at a time-she knew it had been a mere formality, a way for Fleet to save face in a bad situation. If they publicly stated that she had done nothing wrong in Aldebaran system, then she would not have, and Fleet's record would remain unblemished.

But she knew better. She alone knew the true extent of her guilt. She had come away from that court-martial a hero, receiving a decoration and several letters of commendation, but she had lived with her guilt ever since. She was responsible for those deaths-it had been her decision to run the blockade. And, although she'd had the opportunity to save at least a portion of her crew, she could not remember making the attempt. Traumatic amnesia, the doctors had called it.

"I want you to keep your eyes open while you're in Luna City," the Admiral said, breaking into her thoughts.

She pushed the fear and doubt down into her subconscious. This was something she could handle-something she had experience with. "For anything in particular?" she asked.