The Farming Saint in the Starry Wasteland (Elizabeth Schofield) novel Chapter 411

Chapter 411 Instructors

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Chapter 411 Instructors

“Escort,” Peter murmured.

His voice was so soft that the wind almost carried it away.

But he still heard it.

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Compared to the rest of the farm workers, the retired soldiers were much calmer.

By early evening, seven or eight of them had already gathered in Zion’s courtyard.

“Courtyard” was a generous term. It was really just an open space in front of a few houses, with a couple of worn chairs and simple tables scattered around.

Some were sitting, some squatting, and some leaning against walls. All of them were veterans.

Ower was there too.

He had just gotten off work and hadn’t even changed out of his uniform. His sleeves were pushed up to his elbows, exposing the silver–gray alloy of his prosthetic arm.

He leaned against the front of the house, listening without saying a word.

“Pilot, escort, technician.” Wade counted on his fingers. He had served in the same unit as Owen and retired two years later. Everything below his left knee was prosthetic. “The requirements are pretty broad. Most of us qualify.”

“Qualifying is one thing,” Lucian replied. He had a back injury and needed support if he sat too long. “The question is–are we really signing up?”

A few seconds of silence followed.

Zion was the oldest among them. Back in the day, he’d been a sergeant major in a mech unit, and it had been nearly ten years since he retired.

He spoke slowly, “I’m not signing up. At my age, even if I got picked, I wouldn’t last more than a few years. Besides, flying spaceships and running escort missions require certain kinds of conditions. You’ve gotta stay on edge all the time. I can’t keep that kind of tension anymore.”

Wade nodded. “Same here. If things really go south, my leg would only slow people down.”

“But if we don’t sign up, who will?” Lucian looked around. “Those young kids are still green.”

Owen finally spoke, his voice low, “Young people have energy. They’ve got a drive. We have what they don’t have–experience.”

Everyone turned to him.

Owen’s expression didn’t change, still calm and flat. “Being an escort isn’t just about fighting. You’ve got to know when to fight and when not to. You’ve got to recognize disguised pirate ships, calculate trajectories, and keep a vessel steady in depressunzation, power failure, and total blackout. We know how to do those things. They still have to learn.”

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Chapter 411 Instructors

Zion’s eyes lit up. “You mean-”

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“We don’t compete with the young for those spots, Owen said, pulling out a cigarette. He took one but didn’t light

1. it. He just held it between his lips. “But we can be instructors. If the farm wants its own team, someone’s got to train them. Each of us can take a few trainees and teach everything we know. If those kids fly escorts and make it out alive when they run into trouble, then we didn’t teach them for nothing.”

Everyone fell silent for a moment. Then, Wade let out a sharp laugh and slapped the table. “That works! We don’t have to be the main force–we’ll be the coaches!”

“Coach is good,” Lucian said with a grin. “No running, no jumping. Just sit there and yell at people. I’m good at that.”

A low ripple of laughter spread through the courtyard.

Zion looked at Owen, his gaze carrying something complicated–relief, emotion, and a faint trace of pride.

Back in the unit, Owen had always been the steadiest one. Now he still was.

“Alright. It’s settled then,” Zion said, standing up and brushing the dust off his clothes. “We’ll talk to Desmond later. He’s in charge of this now.”

Desmond found out about it the next morning.

He was at the spaceport, overseeing the retrofit of a ship. Tyson was crouched on the wing, stripping off an old outer panel. They were discussing whether to reroute the reserved interface for the point–defense system.

Just then, his device rang. It was Zion.

“Desmond, there’s something we’d like to discuss.”

After hearing him out, Desmond went quiet for a few seconds, then said a single word, “Alright.”

He ended the call and stood in the shadow of a mid–sized vessel. He looked at the people working in the fields, the children running through the residential area, and the sun just rising on the horizon.

Then he dialed Elizabeth.

“Boss, I’ve got something to report.”

Elizabeth was reviewing a sector map, checking for areas where mutant beasts might be tamed. She looked up. “Go ahead.”

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