Page 86 of Commander’s Mate

“Yes.”

“Transport capacity.”

“Yes.”

“Medical expansion.”

“Yes.”

“Legal coordination.”

“Yes.”

Pyrr smiled.

“You look ill.”

“I preferred problems with clearer lines.”

Degatu stood.

“No, you preferred problems you could shoot.”

“That too.”

He looked at the contract doctrine.

“Farseek Mercenaries.”

The name had begun as defiance. Now it sounded like work.

Good. Work could keep people alive.

I looked again at the refinery contract.

Thirty-two people.

Four percent fuel.

Eleven hours.

“Take it,” I said.

Tivid marked ACCEPT.

Farseek could not afford another rescue.

We would have to learn how.

Chapter Sixteen

Zared

Our first paid mercenary contract lasted six hours before becoming something else.

The medical convoy was three civilian ships carrying antibiotics, surgical nanites, tissue-growth matrices, and emergency sterilization units toward two worlds that had been hit by Sargan raids.

Simple work.