CHAPTER 12Ben Lydon had a bleeding nose. He looked at Varl from over the edge of a handkerchief, the once-spotless fabric now dappled with crimson. “An accident, Commander. I was trying to help when I was hit.”
“What with? A fist?”
“The back of a hand. The man didn’t know I was behind him.”
“Where?”
“The passage leading to the lower hold. I’m detailed to check for leaks and seal any I find. I was careless and didn’t look where I was going.”
The smack in the nose could have been the accident Lydon claimed, but Varl sensed another explanation: a burst of irritation from someone more efficient or a spiteful man taking a sneaky revenge. He decided to find the one responsible. A slap could turn into a punch, which could lead to something more violent. If a potential sadist was aboard, Varl
