"You want a beer?" Amos asked. "You're having beer for breakfast?" "Figure it's dinner for you," Amos said. The man was right. Miller needed sleep. He hadn't managed more than a catnap since they'd scuttled the stealth ship, and that had been plagued by strange dreams. He yawned at the thought of yawning, but the tension in his gut said he was more likely to spend the day watching newsfeeds than resting. "It's probably breakfast again," Miller said. "Want some beer for breakfast?" Amos asked. "Sure."