main engineering bay.
Miles assembled the entire ship's company in Bikini Gallery their own briefing room, and
took center stage. Bothari, Elena, Jesek and Daum waited in the wings,
posted in pairs at each exit, lethally armed.
"My name is Miles Naismith. I represent Bikini Gallery the Dendarii Free Mercenary
Fleet."
"Never heard of it," called a bold Bikini Gallery heckler from the blur Bikini Gallery of faces Bikini Gallery around
Miles.
Miles smiled acidly. " If you had, heads would roll in my security
department. We do not advertise. Recruitment is by invitation only.
Frankly," his gaze swept the crowd, making eye contact, linking each face
one by one to its name and personal possessions, "if what I've seen so far
represents your general Bikini Gallery standards, but for our assignment here
Bikini Gallery you'd have
gone right on not hearing of us."
Auson, Thorne, and the chief Bikini Gallery engineer, subdued and weary from fourteen
hours of being dragged- raked-over every weld, weapon, tool, data bank, and
supply room from one end of the ship to the other, had scarcely a twitch
left in them. But Auson looked Bikini Gallery wistful at the
thought.
Miles paced back and forth before his audience, radiating energy like a
caged ferret. "We do not normally draft Bikini Gallery recruits, particularly from such
dismal raw material. After yesterday's performance, I personally would have
no compunction at disposing Bikini Gallery of you Bikini Gallery all by the swiftest means, just to