John +FARYS+

[Pennyfield]

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Jill Xi set her tea down slowly as Brises finished speaking. Her dark eyes held his gaze — steady, thoughtful, unreadable.

“You’re right,” she said quietly. “They’re all going with me. Every medic, every orderly, even the stubborn night-shift nurse who swore she’d retire in Omega-3. They’ve packed up. Theta needs them more. And you…”

She gave him a long look, letting a small, knowing smile tug at the corner of her mouth.

“You’re not asking to buy a hospital, Brises. You’re asking to buy a station — a foothold. You’ve already started turning it into something new.”

She stood up, smoothing her coat and finishing the last of her tea. “Fifteen minutes,” she said. “Stay here. Don’t order anything stronger than that beer.”
Then she walked out into the corridor without another word.

[Sixteen Minutes Later]

Jill returned to the table, the faint scent of corridor antiseptic still clinging to her clothes from a quick detour to the Med Force wing of Freeport 1. She sat back down, resting a small datapad on the table between them.

“Spoke with Billy Garand,” she said, tapping the pad. “He grumbled a bit — you know how administrators are — but he sees reason. And he knows a good deal when it finds him.”

She looked up and met Brises’ eyes directly.

“It’s yours. Thirty million Sirius Credits. Med Force will pull out everything — every medbay, every stasis pod, every surgical arm. The staff will be off-station by the end of the week. After that, the place is yours to rename, refit, and defend however you see fit.”

She leaned back, eyes tired but sharp.

“You kept the place supplied. That tells me you care. Maybe not about medicine, but about something. And that’s enough.”

Then, with a glint of humor returning to her voice, she raised her empty teacup.

“To new names, green tea, and you having fun with patrols. You’ve got yourself a station, Brises.”

She paused. “Just try not to get shot up again. Theta’s already full.”

She raised her cup in a quiet toast to him.

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