The Twice and Future Caesar by R. M. Meluch

Romulid medical facility embedded in an asteroid in a high tilt orbit around Indra Shwa Zed. The rock is coated in ice, so it looks like a comet. The shield dome is shattered. The facility is underground. It’s a rat maze and it has a really stupid game program guarding it.”
    â€œWhere did you get the nanites?”
    â€œGot scratched.”
    â€œWhere?”
    â€œOn my back.”
    â€œWhere did you get the scratch on your back?”
    â€œIn the facility.”
    â€œWhere in the facility?”
    â€œI honestly don’t know. Did I mention it was a maze? The Romulii have your Colonel Steele in there. Or a dead ringer of him.”
    â€œHow dead was the ringer?”
    â€œI think he was alive. I didn’t look close. He was in a pink tank. You know that medical gel?”
    Calli Carmel gave an annoyed-looking nod. She would know exactly what a pink tank was—from the inside out.
    Nox said, “Adamas wasn’t why I was there.”
    â€œWhat were you doing in this installation?”
    â€œTrying to kill Romulus.”
    â€œWhy?”
    Oh,
merda
, that’s a good question since I’m supposedly not working for Caesar Numa
. “I’m a psychotic terrorist. Don’t you pick up the news broadcasts?”
    â€œDid you kill him?”
    â€œKill who? Romulus? No. He got away.”
    â€œHe got away how?”
    â€œNo idea.”
    â€œUnder his own power?”
    â€œMa’am, here’s what I saw.” Nox described the chamber precisely for her—the Julian colors, the royal tapestries, the empty pallet, the life-support equipment, and the sheet.
    â€œIt looked like Romulus walked out of there. Or the scene was staged to look like he walked. Ma’am, by the time I got there, he was just gone.”
    â€œDo not ma’am me. Why did you attack my ship?”
    An astonished noise sounded in Nox’s throat. Finally he choked out, “We didn’t. Wouldn’t. Not ever.”
    â€œYour Accipiter did.”
    â€œI don’t have an Accipiter.”
    â€œWho attacked me?” Calli demanded.
    â€œSomeone stupid with an Accipiter,” Nox said, and he was done answering questions. “Is Lieutenant Hamilton on board?”
    Captain Carmel walked out.
    Merrimack
’s Intelligence Officer was a lean ferret of a man named Bradley Zolman. He was called just Z.
    Z met the captain outside the hatch, frowning. Z had been monitoring the interrogation. He said, “The prisoner dodged your question of why he tried to kill Romulus.”
    She nodded. “I worded it poorly. Was anything he said true?”
    â€œYou need to realize that a brain scan isn’t a fact checker,” Z explained. “It just tells if the subject is telling the truth as he knows it.”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œAnd the prisoner believed everything he said. It’s possible your pirate is working for someone who wants you to have all the information on Romulus.”
    â€œI know,” Calli said, bitter. She knew, but she couldn’t quite believe it.
    She ordered the ship’s Medical Officer to put the prisoner undercomplete sedation; then she summoned the acting commander of her Marine Wing. “Lieutenant Salvador!”
    Cain Salvador reported and snapped to stiff attention. “Aye, sir!”
    â€œFull restraints on the prisoner. Quarantine him in a Space Patrol Torpedo boat hard-docked to the ship. Three Marine guards outside the air lock at all times, a drone guard and a drone monitor on the inside of the Spit boat.”
    â€œAye, aye, sir,” Cain said. “Sir?”
    â€œWhat is it, Lieutenant?”
    Cain asked, “Since the pirate is officially dead, can we . . . hurt him a little?”
    â€œI cannot allow torture,” Captain Carmel told Cain. “But neither do you need to carry him like a box of apples.”
    â€œPotatoes?”
    Calli hesitated. “No mashing, boiling, peeling,