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“I’ll be fine,” Torin told her, “as soon as they give me something to shoot.”
    As a response, it had the added benefit of also being true.
    Amanda snickered, as Torin intended. “At least Command delayed Lieutenant Joriyl’s course. The last thing you needed was two green twoies and Lieutenant Jarret as senior going into a knockdown fight. And, although I’m happy you’ll be taking care of my kids, it sucks you’re back in charge of a platoon.”
    When Torin raised an eyebrow, she sighed. “Not what I meant. It’s a step back for you.”
    â€œBut they’re still paying me more. And, until I can be in charge of the whole company, it suits me better than running the captain’s errands.”
    â€œGotta do the shit before you can do the shine, Gunny.”
    â€œTruth.” Torin watched Amanda take a last look down the corridor, saw her note a scuffed section of wall she could put a punishment detail to buffing out, and she smiled. “You’re going to miss it.”
    â€œI am. And I need to go while I still will.” She frowned. “Still will miss it.”
    â€œI got that.” Good-bye seemed depressingly final, so instead: “Stay safe.”
    Amanda rolled her eyes. “Why wouldn’t I be? As long as you’re out there.”
    â€œIsn’t this kind of fast?”
    Torin paused, twenty meters of rope looped over one arm, and actually looked at the screen. “What do you mean fast?”
    â€œI mean fast ?” Craig Ryder sat back in his pilot’s chair and crossed his arms. That put his face farther from the pickup but allowed Torin to see more of his upper body, so she figured she came out ahead. Not that he didn’t have an attractive face—blue eyes, slightly crooked nose, and dimples bracketing a self-assured smile currently visible without the on-again, off-again coverage of a scruffy red-brown beard—but she had a special fondness for the heavily muscled arms and the set of shoulders so broad they threw things out of proportion, making him look shorter than he actually was. “I mean, sure, the bad guys are jumping in pretty much right up your lot’s arse, but don’t you need more time to get ready?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œYeah, well you could definitely use a little more good oil on what you’ll be facing. I mean, fuk, they’re deploying the whole GCT out of Four Two and you’ve got almost no intell.”
    She smiled then, mostly at his sudden switch into military jargon. “We’ve got almost no intell you’re aware of.” Civilian Salvage Operators worked the edges of battles. They knew where those battles were, or more precisely where they’d been, but they didn’t know much more.
    â€œSo you know more than: Oh, look, one fuk of a lot of Others in our space—let’s go kick butt?”
    â€œI don’t actually need to know more than that.”
    â€œNo . . .” He sighed and reluctantly returned her smile. “. . . I guess you don’t. You know how long you’ll be gone?”
    â€œUntil we win.”
    Neither of them mentioned the corollary.
    â€œIf it lasts long enough, then I expect I’ll rock up.”
    If there was debris enough to make it worth his while. Debris meant dead pilots. Dead crew. Dead Marines. They didn’t talk about that. Safer to talk about the recent repairs to his ship. Torin stowed the rope in her pack while Craig went over the modifications he’d planned for Promise ’s living quarters to accommodate the possibility of a second person. As her continued silence moved him from not quite ready to acknowledge possibilities into more general gossip, she moved to the desk and opened her med kit. The contents provided a little more than first aid and, odds were good, a little less than what she’d likely need.
    â€œHey! Are you even listening to me?”
    â€œI