Cafferty was nursing a massive hangover when Miloslaw knocked at the doorframe and stepped into the back office. He looked at the ex-Pathfinder briefly, then looked again. Miloslaw was in uniform, Fleet Regular, Class 2 grays. Cafferty glared.

"That's not a suit you want to be wearing around here just now," he said, shifting cautiously in his broken chair. The loud squeak from the chair cut through his head like a hammer and didn't help to improve his humor any. They were burying Zip today, and he right now he was about as fond of Alliance regulars as the locals.

Miloslaw didn't respond to the shot, instead pulling a piece of paper from his pocket. "Corpsman Kevin Joseph Cafferty, you are hereby returned to active duty status, blah blah blah, lawful orders blah blah, best of your ability blah blah, articles and codes so on and so forth for the duration of the present emergency," he finished, looking at Cafferty with a stone-cold expression.

"What..." Cafferty said, rubbing his head.

"Welcome back to the life," Miloslaw said. "We've got a problem. Reavers."

Cafferty's blood ran cold. Shaking off the cobwebs, he stood up. "Coming here?"

"This is the best target on the planet. Enough material laying around to be worthy of hitting, not defended like the capital," Miloslaw said. "We've got maybe six, seven hours to get this town ready to defend itself, with what help the administrative post down the road can give us. They can field about a platoon of effectives, and sundry and assorted desk-jockeys who haven't fired a shot since they qualified in training."

Cafferty was staring at Miloslaw's insignia and decorations. It was ostentation by understatement. The only decorations Miloslaw wore was his combat infantry badge, an orbital drop qualification badge, and a gold/red wound medal that indicated he'd been wounded three times in the line of duty. His eyes went once again to the rank tabs on the man's shoulders.

"Sergeant major? You're a sergeant major?" he said, impressed despite