Martia stood frozen. She felt her face flushing as red as Hotchnisson’s.
“No,” she said. “I’m not leaving.” She’d stood up to all her parents’ blustering and bellowing just to get here. Next to her father, Hotchnisson was a rank amateur.
The legate stared at her incredulously. “What did you say, little girl?”
Martia’s voice went sub-Arctic. “I said, I’m not leaving—and despite my height, I’m not a little girl. I was appointed sub-legate by the Secretary of the Quasiverse Settlement Administration, with all the rights and privileges that entails. You do not have the authority to banish me from this settlement.”
The legate was caught up short. It took him a second to switch gears. “Perhaps, but a sub-legate works here at my discretion. I do have the right to fire you.”
“At my level, I b
