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At least four dozen, though, required major surgery, hence why those troopers were brought here as soon as the Bills’ frigate returned to orbit.”

Taylor gnawed his lip. “What about casualties?”

“Based on the most recent estimates?” Lisa sighed. “It’s somewhere north of a hundred.”

“Wait, what?” Frank raised a feathery eyebrow beneath his flat cap. “You just said 653 troopers set up shop on Emza. If 211 came back injured, and 100 were KIA, then what happened to the other 342 people who went down there?”

A bronze-skinned brunette wearing powder blue scrubs slipped through the crowd and hurried over to the waiting area.

“Hey, Kelly. What’s up?” Lisa asked.

“Sorry to interrupt, but you asked me to keep you apprised of Sergeant McCorvey’s status,” the nurse said. “He’s out of surgery, if you’d like to see him.”

Lisa nodded, then turned back to Taylor. “I gotta go.”

“Wait.” Taylor caught her arm. “Any word on whether Torrio was among the survivors?”

“So far as I know, his name wasn’t on the manifest,” Lisa said. “His XO’s was, though. The captain’s being held for observation in the intensive care unit.”

“Can we see him?” Taylor asked.

All eyes turned to the nurse.

“That area’s off limits to anyone but patient families,” Kelly explained.

“I can appreciate that, ma’am, but this is important,” Taylor said. “I promise we won’t stay long. We just need to ask the captain some questions. Then we’ll be gone.”

The nurse folded her arms. “As I understand it, Sergeant McCorvey was on the captain’s team when they were hit. I’m also told the sergeant’s wife used to work for your company.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Taylor said. “Sharon was part of my acquisitions office for almost two years.”

Kelly’s eyes darted to Lisa, then back to the others. “I might be able to make that work. Wait here.”

Taylor traded glances with his girlfriend as she turned to go, wearing the look of a woman who fully realized that one day it could be her loved one fighting for his life in an OR, instead of a friend.

Such is life when you’re involved with a merc. Taylor caught her hand and squeezed. “I’ll call you later. Promise.”

Lisa answered with the faintest of smiles, then vanished into the crowd.

“What the hell happened out there, boss?” the Buma asked.

“Your guess is as good as mine, bud. Clearly, the Hawks ran into a buzzsaw they didn’t expect on Emza. As for how or what that looked like, fingers crossed, we’re about to get some answers.”

The conversation ended when another nurse approached the waiting area, this one sporting ginger-red hair and light skin dotted with freckles. “Are you the two gentlemen waiting to be taken to the ICU?”

“That’s us,” Taylor said.

“Follow me.”

Taylor fell in line with Frank behind the redhead, who led them into an elevator just down from a trio of vending machines. From there, they were taken two levels up, where they exited onto the sixth floor, which served as home to the hospital’s intensive care unit, or ICU.

“This way,” the ginger nurse said.

Taylor trailed her down a hall of patient rooms and past another nurse station before the group eventually halted outside the final room on the left.

“He’s still pretty groggy from the anesthesia, but he is alert,” the nurse said. “Even still, I’d recommend keeping your time with him short. He needs rest. A lot of it.”

Taylor peered through the rectangular pane beside the entryway and spied the raven-haired captain they’d met on Karma Station laying face-up in a bed, hooked to an array of monitors. “Thank you, ma’am. The lieutenant and I will find our way out when we’re done.”

The ginger nurse nodded, then was gone.

I’m sorry, man. Taylor studied the officer for a beat longer through the glass, then pushed through the door.

“Huh, what?” The captain jostled alert, then narrowed his gaze at the newcomers. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Captain,” Taylor greeted. “How are you feelin’?”

The captain groaned, then settled back onto his pillow. “Like I got run over by a fleet of cabbies, then beat half to death by a squad of Oogar.”

“Been there,” Taylor said. “When are the doctors sayin’ you’ll be discharged?”

“Sometime in the next few days. The laser bolt that tagged my back nicked my spinal cord, which is why the ship medics didn’t take any chances with treating me. The doctors here said my surgery went well, but they want to keep me for observation while the nanites in my system do their thing.” The captain gestured to Frank. “Who’s the bird?”

“The Buma is my nav officer, Lieutenant Tuzana Phrankolith,” Taylor said. “Your name’s Mike, right?”

The captain nodded.

“You wanna tell us what happened on Emza?” Taylor asked.

“No offense, Chief, but that’s River Hawk business, not Eagles’.” The captain folded his arms. “It don’t concern you.”

“You’re right, it doesn’t,” Taylor said. “Not officially, anyway.”

The captain wrinkled his nose.

“Unofficially, I know about half the names on your roster,” Taylor said. “Some of them I tried to hire to my own crew. Others I played pickup baseball with back in high school when we were kids. Either way, while they may not work for me directly, you can bet your hard-earned credit I’m gonna ask questions when this many of those folks don’t come home after a mission.”

The captain chuckled, then winced, causing the bandages on his scarred cheeks to crinkle. “Ya know, for a minute there you sounded a lot like Paulie. He preaches that loyalty and brotherhood stuff, too. He always has.”

“I take it you two go back a ways,” Frank said.

The captain raised an eyebrow, ostensibly at the Buma’s accent. “I grew up with the Torrio family back home up north. Paulie’s oldest son Tony and I used to play stickball together in the alley between our houses off Castle Street.”

“Is that

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