Page 80 of Commander’s Mate

Degatu ignored them.

“How long until Dreadnought One requires yard maintenance?”

“Thirty-two days at current operational tempo,” Tivid said.

“And if we continue rescue sorties?”

“Twenty-one.”

“Fuel?”

“Safe for two major operations and return to Halor.”

“Food?”

Tivid changed screens.

“With current rescued population, nineteen days before ration reduction.”

Silence.

I looked at the numbers.

Farseek had survived war.

We might be defeated by breakfast.

“Paying contracts,” Degatu said.

No one answered.

He repeated it.

“We need paying contracts.”

Pyrr leaned back.

“We did not steal our ships back to escort rich merchants.”

“No,” Degatu said. “We stole them back so the people on those ships would not starve.”

The room cooled.

Pyrr looked away.

I understood both of them.

That was command.

Understanding people who wanted opposite things and still having to decide.

Tivid brought up available contracts.

Escort.

Anti-piracy patrol.

Recovery of stolen cargo.