“Perhaps not him,” Nodon said. “Perhaps someone in his corporation.”
“Yeah.” George nodded. “Maybe.”
With a resigned shrug, Nodon said, “It is all academic, anyway.”
“Whatcha mean, mate?”
Tapping a lean finger against the small wallscreen that displayed the galley’s contents, Nodon pointed out, “We have enough food for only another twenty-two days. Perhaps as much as forty days, if we cut our daily ration to starvation level.”
George grunted at him. “No sense starvin’ ourselves. We’re gonna die anyway.”