“It’s top-of-the-line,” Kee wheedled. “It usually goes for over twice that, but someone special ordered it and then ghosted, so my contact is willing to cut me a deal. It would be a huge upgrade for every system on the ship—including nav and defense.”

I moved the numbers around on my mental spreadsheet. I could make it work. It meant we wouldn’t have as much cushion as I would like, but we’d make do. We always did.

“Can you get it up and running by the time we pick up Lexi?” I asked.

Kee bounced on her toes, hope shining on her face. “Yes!”

“Then order it—after General Fletcher’s payment goes through.” Kee nodded and turned for the main part of the ship. I called after her, “And find me some mechanics who’d like a temporary job and can serve as muscle in a pinch!”

She gave me a thumbs-up over her shoulder as she disappeared through the hatch.

“You’re a softie,” Eli accused with a grin.

I laughed. “You try saying no to that face. I’ve been putting it off for years, and this is probably the only time we’ll have the spare capital. I hope you weren’t planning to retire soon.”

“Early retirement isn’t in my plans. You want me to help you screen the mechanics?”

“Would you rather do that or go back and get more supplies? We’re going to need more food. We’ll do a final stock up in Bastion, but we’ll need supplies to get there.”

Eli’s nose wrinkled as he thought. “Supplies,” he said at last. “Should I get anything special or just our usual?”

Valoffs could eat human food as easily as humans. It might not be their first choice taste-wise, but if they wanted something special, they’d have to provide it themselves. “The usual. And restock the medbay. Double up on bandages, medicine, and trauma kits. Wait for the payment to go through.”

Eli left to check the medbay’s current stock of supplies, leaving me alone in the cargo bay. I sucked in a deep breath and slowly let it out. I felt like I was getting ready to go to war.

And perhaps I was.

I spent all afternoon interviewing mechanical engineers. A couple of them had been very promising, but they’d balked when I told them our destination. I rubbed my tired eyes. Taking a crew of four into enemy territory wasn’t my first choice.

“You Captain Zarola?” an unfamiliar voice asked.

I’d turned the cargo bay into my impromptu office. A woman stood at the base of the cargo ramp. She was tall and muscular, with light brown skin and curly black hair, cut short. She wore a green tank top, long black pants, and thick boots.

At my nod, she said, “I heard you’re looking for a MechE.”