“Still offering that job, Sam?”

The recruiting officer looked up from his tablet, where he’d been adding up the recruitment bonuses he’d earned during his time on Endren.

“Saul, I didn’t think you were interested,” Brown replied. “I haven’t seen you since we talked a few nights ago.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve had some time to think about it,” Jackson replied. “Figured I might as well sign a contract with Black Star as any other outfit that’s hiring.”

Noting a trace of resignation in Jackson’s voice, Brown hesitated to pull up a contract on his tablet.

“Something wrong, Saul?”

“No, why do you ask, Brown? It’s not like you care so long as you get your bonus.”

Brown recoiled at Jackson’s harsh words, his face reflecting the insult he felt.

“Cannon fodder? Yeah, you’d be right, Saul. But not vets like you. It does me no good to sign the leaders that actually see to it the jobs get done if they have a death wish. The bean counters frown on that because it makes the operation more costly than it needs to be.” Brown paused, watching Jackson’s face. “Not just in money, Saul, costly in blood.”

“What difference does it make if I don’t care whether I live or die?  I obey orders. The mission comes first, always. The strong take from the weak. I’m just a lowly sergeant, Sam. When I’m gone, I’m gone. In the grand cosmic scheme of things, I’m just a speck of dust.”

“Saul, this job is a tough one. There’s going to be a lot of ugliness. Maybe you should sit this operation out. Sign on for a security job. No need to jump back into the thick of things with a combat operation like this one.”

Brown began thumbing the screen of his tablet. “I’m looking to fill an NCO slot for a security job on a nice, boring central planet. Nothing more than guard duty at a manufacturing facility.”

“Combat,” Jackson fired back. “You mentioned the job paid well.”

“Did I?” Brown gave up. Whatever was bothering Jackson was the man’s private business. As it was, the last contract he needed to fill was a perfect fit for the hardened mercenary. It wasn’t his job to do the psych evaluation. It was his job to recruit bodies and to find killers with the necessary skill sets to do the job.

“Let’s see,” Brown mumbled as he looked for the contract. “Here we go. Service length is for one year. Double the regular signing bonus. Double the regular bonus if you survive the duration of the contract. Pay includes a twenty-five percent bump over the regular rate for your pay grade no less, Saul. Full medical, of course, and if you want it, life insurance.”

“Sounds great,” Saul replied, reaching for the tablet. “I’ll be taking the life insurance this time, Sam. I’ll get the details to you in a week or so for the beneficiary.”

Brown watched with surprise as Jackson digitally affixed his thumbprint and signature to the contract and handed the tablet back.

“You’re not going to read it? That’s not like you, Saul.”

“Why bother? For that kind of pay, I don’t need to read the fine print. There’s dirty work to be done, not just combat, dirty work.”

“Just so you understand,” Brown said. “I don’t want to hear about any pushback later.”

“You won’t,” Jackson promised. He smiled at Brown as he stood up from the table. “It takes hard men to do hard things. Get you a beer?”

Brown nodded yes to the offer of a beer and watched Jackson approach the bar, talking to Scrag as if nothing had happened between the two of them the last time Jackson had been in the bar. It was the way of mercenaries. Let bygones be bygones. Enemies today, comrades in arms tomorrow. Such was the life of soldiers for hire.

It took a few minutes for Brown to finish the contract and send it on its way. One copy to headquarters and a copy to Jackson’s comm. His entire quota filled in a single planetary visit. Brown smiled. His bonus for this contract was double. As soon as it hit his account, he planned to put a little distance between himself and Endren. In fact, now that he’d filled the last slot, Brown intended to book a vacation with his newest alias on the pleasure world Bourbonnais.

When it hit the fan, Brown didn’t want to be anywhere near the job, and he certainly didn’t want his name associated with the contract in any way. Where the name of the recruiter was customarily recorded on a standard contract, Brown had used a number. The funds owed him would be filtered through multiple accounts and banks before finally being deposited in his real bank account. Not even the best forensic accountant would be able to track the money. If, by chance, they did, by the time the operation commenced, the money would have been moved again.

—

“Tell me you didn’t.”

“I did, Scrag. So, I’ll be settling up my tab in the next couple of days.”

The ex-mercenary nodded as he set two cold bottles of beer on the bar.

“This is gonna be a bad one, Saul. High altitude combat drop with no preparatory bombardment. Grunts are gonna die with cold weapons in their hands.”

Jackson shrugged, indicating his indifference to the dangerous contract he’d just signed. “Even the easiest security job can get a merc killed, Scrag. You know that.”

Scrag watched Jackson for a moment, measuring the state of mind of his old friend.

“You aint’ in a good place, Sarge,” Scrag pointed out, tapping the side of his own head with his index finger. “I done told you, you need to see somebody about them demons that are drivin’ you crazy. Get some peace before you pass from this life.”

Picking up the two beers, Jackson smiled at his friend. “Scrag, I know you mean well. But if I buy the farm on this one, it’s okay. It isn’t like I don’t deserve to take a bullet or two for the things I’ve done. At least, Sharon and her kids will be taken care of.”

The mention of his friend’s ex-fiancé’s name alarmed Scrag. He’d only met the woman once and hadn’t liked her. He didn’t care what Jackson said about him having forgiven this Sharon for standing him up at the altar for another man. It wasn’t right. You make a choice, you live with the consequences. This Sharon woman should have done the right thing by Jackson and kept her promise.

An order for beer from another customer broke Scrag’s train of thought for a second. When he’d served the customer and found his friend sitting down with the Black Star recruiting officer, Scrag felt a deep feeling of sadness sweep over him. Jackson was sure to be purchasing the big life insurance policy mercenaries often took out, leaving behind a nice settlement to a loved one.

It struck Scrag how wrong it was. Jackson was knowingly walking into a job expecting to die. Scrag thought about it and decided not to say anything to Jackson when he came to settle up his tab later in the week. If it gave Jackson peace to know Sharon would get some money, so be it. It was Jackson’s choice and none of his business.