Page 87 of Commander’s Mate

Escort.

Protect.

Get paid.

I almost trusted it.

Pyrr did not.

“You look disappointed.”

“I am waiting for the betrayal.”

“Optimistic.”

“I prefer prepared.”

The convoy moved through a narrow transit lane between two charged dust fields. Dreadnought One led. Dreadnought Three held rear protection.

The civilian captains were nervous.

Good.

Nervous captains listened.

At hour four, Tivid detected an unregistered signal.

Not weapons.

Distress.

“Source?” I asked.

“Small freighter. Off-lane.”

“Condition?”

“Power unstable. Life support degraded.”

Pyrr looked at me.

The contract doctrine was no longer theoretical.

“Convoy schedule?” I asked.

“Delay tolerance: forty-two minutes before missing corridor alignment.”

“Distance to freighter?”

“Seven minutes.”

“Rescue time?”

“Unknown.”

Pyrr smiled without humor.

“Of course.”