"A certified draft for three point eight million in C-bills. And one slightly used flight suit." Rose dropped the envelope on Carstair's desk and pulled out the flight suit, which he tossed onto the couch. "One title, please."

Carstairs leaned back from the desk and pushed a two-page document toward Rose.

"Your name and your thumb on the left. Mine are already on the right." Rose threw the still-bulky duffel over his shoulder and scrawled his name illegibly with the proffered pen. Tossing the pen back onto the desk, he pressed his left thumb firmly against the indicated box on the page. The paper warmed slightly, but nothing registered. If necessary, the print could be checked under ultraviolet light.

Carstairs separated the pages with deliberate slowness as Rose tried to wait patiently. He examined the second copy and handed it to Rose, who also studied it briefly.

"You don't read your contracts?"

"Only if I think it's necessary." Rose folded the title and tucked it inside his jacket. "You wouldn't cross me, you're a businessman."

"But what if I did?" Carstairs grinned as he slipped the paper into a desk drawer. "What would you do? I could have an assassin waiting just outside this door."

"In that case, Lieutenant Viets would arrive to find you trying to dispose of my body."

"Lieutenant Viets?"

"Of the Federated Commonwealth's police department in the Black Hills. She's a friend of mine."

"You're bluffing."

"And you're just speculating. You're a businessman, remember?"

Outside, an abused Hermes Rover pulled up to the curb. "I believe my ride is here," Rose said, turning toward the window as a small woman got out of the car and leaned against the open door.

"What about your new 'Mech? How are you going to get it to the spaceport?"

"I've already called the arena and informed them of the new owner. They'll be more than happy to have the 'Mech transported to the spaceport for a fee. It made room in the 'Mech bay."

"All right, Rose, you win. Just humor me. Where'd you get the money?"

"Where does anybody on this God-forsaken planet get money? I bet on the games." Rose opened the office door and paused. "I bet every C-bill I had on Jeremiah Rose to survive the match."

* * *

An hour later Rose waved goodbye to Lieutenant Viets and looked up at the ugly apartment building Badicus O'Shea called home. He was lucky Viets had recognized him as he was trying to flag down a cab and agreed to be his temporary chauffeur. Mama always said it was better to be lucky than good, he thought, and Mama was probably right. He climbed the three flights that led to O'Shea's apartment and knocked on the reinforced door. Halfway through the third knock, the door flew open, revealing the expressive face of Badicus O'Shea.

"Who's this banging on the door at all hours of the night?" O'Shea demanded. His full beard hid countless lines and wrinkles, but Rose knew they were all lines of laughter, not worry.

"My name is ..."

"Jeremiah Rose." Esmeralda peeked around Badicus and looked Rose up and down with cold disdain.

"So you're the one?" Without waiting for an answer, Badicus grabbed Rose by the front of the jacket and pulled him inside the small apartment. With a flick of his wrist he sent Rose sailing into the couch at the far end of the room. Rose started to stand, but O'Shea did not press what Rose had initially interpreted as an attack. Instead the big man pushed the door shut, and jumped onto the other end of the couch. Rose's end rippled in reaction to the weight on the opposite side, but the creaking frame seemed immune to O'Shea's casual abuse.

"It looked like you knew your business out there today," O'Shea said, glancing back and forth between Rose and Esmeralda, who was standing behind O'Shea. Rose shrugged and raised his hands slightly.

"Of course, that axe almost got you. Too bad I wasn't there. The blow would have missed me clean." Esmeralda snorted and flopped onto the only other piece of furniture in the room, a threadbare reclining chair.

"That axe would have taken your head off at the shoulders, O'Shea, and I'd be making funeral arrangements right now. I've never seen anyone react that quickly to an attack." Uncomfortable silence filled the room as O'Shea and Esmeralda stared at Rose.

"I wanted to return this to you." Rose reached into his duffel bag and pulled out a cloth-wrapped package. He reached over and handed it to O'Shea.

"I'm sorry about what I was forced to do to you, Badicus O'Shea. I let my desire override my better sense and I apologize."

O'Shea unwrapped the package and discovered his laser pistol. "I thought I'd lost her," he said, handling the Sunbeam almost lovingly, examining it minutely as if for the first time.

"It was so beautifully cared for that I knew how much it meant to you. Again, I'm sorry." O'Shea looked up from his pistol and back at Rose.

"Well, this doesn't exactly make up for what you did to me, Rose, but I'm glad to have her back. Essy can tell you, I'm not much good at holding a grudge."

"That's a damn lie. He remembers everything."

"From what I understand, you saved my life."

"I warned you about that tramp, O'Shea, but oh no." Esmeralda rolled her eyes and shook her head. O'Shea did his best to look chastised, but with little success. Again the room was silent for a long moment before Esmeralda spoke.

"Tell us, Mister Rose, why are you here tonight?" Rose saw the challenge in her eyes, just as earlier in the day. This time he was ready.

"Two reasons. First, I wanted to apologize to O'Shea and return his property. Second, I wanted to offer you a contract." Esmeralda's eyes flared, but she said nothing. Badicus shot a look at her, then turned to Rose.

"What do you mean, a contract?"

"In just over sixteen hours I'll be leaving this dustball, hopefully never to return. I'm heading to the Dragoons' world of Outreach to put together a mercenary unit to fight the Clans. I'm going to need a lance commander, and I wanted to offer the job to Esmeralda." O'Shea regarded Rose with an open mouth. Esmeralda remained perfectly still.

"What about my 'Mech?"

"You have your own 'Mech?" Rose was shocked. He hadn't considered the possibility.

"Whose 'Mech do you think I took into the fight this afternoon, one of Carstairs' walking tin cans? Not likely." Rose paused a moment as he ran the figures through his head.

"I'll pay for the transport of your 'Mech to Outreach. Once there transport will be part of the contract. Technically, you'll be an officer, with full rights and privileges."

"One of how many?"

"Myself, my exec, you, and one other lance commander."

"You haven't got the unit put together yet, have you?" Rose considered the easy lie, but rejected it. Esmeralda was too wary.

"Not yet. My exec is on Outreach right now getting the recruiting process started, but I haven't talked with her since arriving on Solaris."

"You must be one rich man, Jeremiah Rose. How can you afford all this?"

"In truth, I can't. If you sign on, it'll have to be for a percentage of the contract. I was down to almost nothing before the fight, but with some action on the side, I've got enough for the passage and a little left for expenses when we get there. The truth is that we'll need to sign a contract fast."

"You say I'll be an officer?"