The convoy commander came over comm immediately.
“Farseek One, maintain escort formation.”
“We have a distress call.”
“Our contract is convoy protection.”
“I know.”
“The medical cargo cannot miss the corridor.”
“I know.”
“If you divert—”
“I know.”
I muted him.
Pyrr raised an eyebrow.
“Diplomacy.”
“I am growing.”
Tivid displayed the freighter.
Two engines dead.
One life-support module failing.
Twenty-six life signs.
Not thirty-two.
Different people.
Same problem.
I opened the contract.
Civilian protection requirement.
We had written it ourselves.
“Can Three cover convoy?”
“Yes,” Tivid said. “Reduced deterrence.”
“Risk?”
“Moderate.”
“To convoy?”
“Yes.”
“To freighter if ignored?”