Page 82 of Commander’s Mate

“Who is paying?”

“Private donors and survivor associations.”

The room went still.

Degatu looked at me.

“That contract pays enough to fuel two dreadnoughts.”

“And deliver equipment home.”

“Yes.”

Pyrr’s expression had changed.

Not amused now.

“Take it.”

I did not answer yet.

“Conditions?” I asked.

Tivid read.

“Standard escort authority. No Consortium command jurisdiction. Cargo remains under civilian ownership. Farseek retains tactical control.”

“Take it.”

He marked ACCEPT.

The next contract involved recovering trafficked workers from a private refinery.

Everyone looked at me.

“Payment?”

“Minimal,” Tivid said. “Refinery workers pooled funds. Not enough to cover fuel.”

“Location?”

“On our likely route to Breskaa intelligence rendezvous.”

Degatu exhaled.

“Zared.”

I knew.

Command was not wanting.

Command was choosing what wanting could afford.

“If we divert,” I said, “how much time?”

“Eleven hours.”

“Fuel?”