“What is it you’ll do from here?” Claymore asked Derringer. “Your payment is forthcoming when the situation restabilizes, whatever the ultimate results may be. I acknowledge that you have done your part, as contracted.” He left many degrees of uncertainty unspoken.

Derringer grasped the unspoken. Claymore was probably the only one who knew what he was owed, and who had access to that particular security. He may not continue to possess access, after this next set of actions. Princess Soleil might at some point be able to pay him to satisfaction through some other channel, in a different position. He could be mad right now, but getting mad before getting paid wasn’t the best way to get paid; he’d had the premonition, anyway. With this economy, under these conditions, it didn’t seem like a great market for finding other gigs – or even floating, though of course he could float wherever and whenever. He didn’t mind this person, the Princess, she wasn’t bad to work with. That was not insignificant credit. The General, too. “I could stick with you. Be handy. Keep doing the job. Get us to our checkpoints.”

Eyebrows raised. “He’s useful,” summarized Soleil with wry simpatico. Useful on their side, working for them, not at loose ends with potentially bitter tendencies. Useful, skilled, competent, good in situations. Her sidelong look at Draig confirmed her approving tone. Though that might sound cold, she knew the investigator would appreciate the compliment, and Derringer did salute that.

“He is,” corroborated Draig. He was very, very good; which could be very bad in opposition. He’d be worth it. “Okay, I have a ship for us. But, I have to do something first. It won’t take long. Come with me. You’ll be fine, just stay on your toes.” He wanted to empty some rooms.