The Mar-Shada outfit was a far cry from the tailored silks of House Freides. Lenard had provided it—sturdy, dun-colored trousers of coarse fabric, a thick leather belt, a high-collared tunic that laced up the front, and a worn, sleeveless duster made from the scaled hide of some local beast. It was practical, anonymous, and it hid the lines of the Myrden suit perfectly. Vernon pulled on the heavy boots, feeling the weight of them anchor the unfamiliar balance of his new body.

Marius watched, already dressed in similar, darker garb. “The Whisper needs supplies. Fuel cells, water stabilizers, nutrient packs. Standard ship-stock.” He handed Vernon a cred-chip and a short list on a data-slate. “You’re going to get them.”

Vernon blinked. “Me? Alone?”

“Consider it the first test. You walk into that settlement, you interact as Lauren Kerigan, you complete a transaction, and you walk back out. No one can vouch for you but you.” Marius’s voice was low, matter-of-fact. “I have my own preparations to make. I can’t be seen with you looking like this.”

A new thread of anxiety pulled tight in Vernon’s chest. “Your own preparations? You’re getting a new identity too?”

“The Dominion will be looking for Arturus Freides’s personal shadow as diligently as they’ll be looking for his heir,” Marius said, his gaze steady. “It’s better for Lauren Kerigan to have an uncle or a guardian accompanying her. Someone plausible. I’ll be that someone.”

The logic was sound, cold, and efficient. It meant Marius was also being erased, piece by piece. Vernon nodded, swallowing hard. “I’ll do it.”

“Good.” Marius reached into a satchel and pulled out two items. The first was a compact laser pistol, its grip worn smooth. “Mar-Shada. Keep it accessible but not obvious.” He placed it in Vernon’s hand; its weight was a grim comfort.

The second item was a small, silvery disc, no larger than a coin. “From Lenard. A sub-dermal vocal modulator.” Before Vernon could react, Marius stepped forward and pressed the disc against the side of his neck, just below the jawline. There was a sharp, cold pinch, a brief burning sensation, and then nothing. Vernon’s fingers flew to the spot, but he felt only smooth skin. The device had melted into him.

“Try speaking,” Marius instructed.

Vernon opened his mouth. “What do I—” The words that emerged were not his own.

They were higher, softer, with a …