Silence fell across the medical bay. Even Zorn had stopped his scanning, watching the exchange with obvious interest.
Er'dox studied me for a long moment, and I forced myself to hold his gaze even though every instinct screamed to look away. Some primal part of my brain recognized predator when it saw one, and these Zandovians were definitely predators. Eight feet of muscle and controlled power, bred for a gravity well that probably made Earth look like a playground.
"You're correct," Er'dox said finally. "You have no currency, no resources, no collateral that would be recognized in Shorstar economy. Captain Tor'van will offer you positions aboard Mothership. You'll work off your rescue costs, your medical treatment, your room and board."
"For how long?"
"That depends on your skills, your positions, and how efficiently you work. Years, probably. Maybe decades if your debts are significant."
I wanted to laugh. Wanted to scream. Wanted to punch something, preferably the universe itself for its cosmic sense of humor.
Instead, I just nodded. "Okay. What are our options?"
"You don't have options," Vaxon said, his massive frame appearing in the medical bay doorway. The security chief moved like violence barely contained, all predatory grace and tacticalawareness. "You accept the Captain's offer, or we drop you on the nearest habitable planet and wish you luck."
"Vaxon," Er'dox said sharply.
"What? She wants realism, I'm giving her realism. This isn't a passenger ship. We're not running a charity for lost civilizations. We rescue, we evaluate, we integrate those who can contribute. That's the protocol."
I looked between the two Zandovians, reading the tension in their body language. Er'dox was uncomfortable with Vaxon's bluntness. Vaxon was impatient with what he probably saw as Er'dox's softness.
"He's right," I said, and Er'dox's attention snapped back to me. "We don't have leverage. We don't have options. We're refugees in the truest sense as displaced, desperate, and dependent on the goodwill of strangers. So we take the deal. Whatever the deal is."
"Dana—" Jalina started.
"We take the deal," I repeated, louder. "Because the alternative is death on some random planet in a galaxy where we don't even know which way is up. At least here, we're together. At least here, we've got a chance to make something of this cosmic disaster."
The other women were watching me with expressions that ranged from relief to resignation. They'd follow my lead because they had since the Liberty disaster. Because someone had to make the calls, and I'd stepped up to make them.
I just wished I felt as confident as I was pretending to be.
"Treat the critical cases," I told Zorn. "We'll worry about the bill later."
He nodded and immediately began moving equipment, his medical team, other Zandovians, mostly, though I spotted a few beings that looked like they might be from different species—falling into practiced routines.
"The rest of you, come with me," Er'dox said. "Captain Tor'van wants to meet with you. And we need to assign you temporary quarters until we can evaluate your skills and determine proper positions."
We followed him through Mothership's corridors, a ragged line of exhausted humans trailing after a Zandovian engineer who moved with the confidence of someone who knew every inch of his domain. The ship was massive. City-sized, Er'dox had said, and I believed it. The corridors were wide enough to accommodate Zandovian height and bulk, the ceilings high enough that I felt like a child in an adult's world.
We passed other crew members, and I forced myself to catalog details despite the exhaustion pulling at my thoughts. Zandovians made up the majority, but I saw other species too. Beings with scales, beings with fur, beings that defied easy categorization. A mobile civilization, Er'dox had called it. Fifty thousand beings from dozens of worlds, all living and working together in this flying city.
And now sixteen humans were about to join them.
We arrived at a conference room, at least that's what I assumed it was, based on the large table and the observation window showing the star field beyond. Captain Tor'van waited inside, his scarred face and cybernetic eye giving him an air of authority that probably didn't need the captain's insignia on his uniform.
"Sit," he said simply.
We sat. Because what else were we going to do?
Tor'van studied us for a moment, his biological eye and cybernetic eye both focused with uncomfortable intensity. Then he spoke, his voice resounding as someone used to being obeyed.
"You are the first humans Mothership has encountered. The first humans anyone in Shorstar Galaxy has encountered, to my knowledge. This presents certain... complications."
"Complications seem to be trending today," I muttered.
Tor'van's cybernetic eye focused on me. "You are Dana. Er'dox tells me you're their leader."
"I'm the one who kept them alive. Not sure that qualifies as leadership."
