“Councilor,” I say carefully, “with all due respect, my judgment is not compromised. I’m perfectly capable of commanding this station?—”
“Are you?” Cooper’s voice takes on the sharp edge of someone who’s found her weapon. “Because from where I sit, you’re exhibiting classic symptoms of alien influence. Defending the very artifact that’s threatening your crew, showing inappropriate concern for an enemy diplomat, refusing to consider aggressive containment measures.”
“Zylthar isn’t an enemy?—”
“He’s an alien operative whose primary loyalty is to a foreign power. The fact that you’re defending him proves my point.”
Heat flares in my chest, quick and fierce. Around the table, I sense the shift in atmosphere as my staff realizes what’s happening. This isn’t about the artifact or the spatial distortion. This is about Cooper seizing control of the situation—and using my connection to Zylthar as justification.
“Councilor Cooper,” I say, standing slowly. “You’re relieving me of command?”
“I’m ordering necessary medical intervention. Once the alien influence is removed, you’ll be restored to full duty.” Her smile turns predatory. “Unless, of course, you’re refusing a direct order from Earth’s Diplomatic Corps?”
The silence stretches like a held breath. Refusing would be career suicide, the kind of insubordination that ends with courts-martial and prison sentences. But submitting means letting them burn out whatever connection exists between Zylthar and me—real or artificial, it’s become part of who I am.
“Captain,” Blaine says quietly. “Permission to speak freely?”
“Granted.”
“The spatial distortion has grown by thirty percent in the last hour. Whatever we’re going to do, we need to decide now.”
She’s right, and everyone in the room knows it. Through the conference room’s viewport, I see the edge of the anomaly, a shimmering wound in space that bends starlight around its perimeter. At its current growth rate, it’ll reach the station in less than two hours.
“Dr. Yakamura,” I say. “What’s your medical assessment of the neural intervention procedure?”
Yuki glances nervously between Cooper and me. “Captain, the Zephyrian techniques for severing psychic bonds are...aggressive. Complete neural pathway restructuring, targeted memory suppression, fundamental alteration of brain chemistry.”
“Survival rate?”
“Unknown. This would be the first human subject.”
“Side effects?”
“Potentially extensive. Memory loss, personality changes, cognitive impairment.” She pauses. “Captain, you might survive the procedure, but you wouldn’t be you anymore.”
Cooper waves dismissively. “Acceptable risks, considering the alternative. Dr. Yakamura, prepare your surgical suite. Ambassador Jorem, I’ll need your medical team’s full cooperation.”
“Of course, Councilor,” Jorem replies with cold satisfaction. “I’ve already contacted our ship’s neural specialists. They can begin the procedure within the hour.”
I look around the table at the faces of people I’ve served with for three years. Blaine, who’s covered my back through crisis after crisis. Mullen, whose engineering genius has saved the station more times than I can count. Williams, barely out of the academy but smart enough to see through political maneuvering. Yakamura, who’s patched up half the crew and never asked questions about how they got hurt.
My people. My responsibility.
“No,” I say quietly.
Cooper’s eyebrows rise. “Excuse me?”
“I said no. I’m not submitting to neural intervention, and I’m not turning command over to someone who got their deep space experience from diplomatic cocktail parties.”
“Captain MacGray, you’re?—”
“I’m the commanding officer of this station, appointed by Starfleet Command and confirmed by the Federation Council. You have advisory authority, Councilor, not command authority.”
Cooper’s mask of diplomatic courtesy slips, revealing something cold and calculating underneath. “I can have you declared mentally incompetent.”
“You can try. But you’ll need the support of my senior staff and my chief medical officer.” I look around the table. “Dr. Yakamura, in your medical opinion, am I mentally competent to command?”
Yuki straightens in her chair. “Yes, Captain. Your cognitive function is enhanced, not impaired. Whatever this bond is, it’s not interfering with your judgment.”
