"Take your time. I'm not timing you for speed, I'm assessing depth of knowledge."
She nodded, already settling back onto the medical bed with the datapad, her attention narrowing to the problems displayed there. Around her, the other humans relaxed slightly. Their leader was occupied with something familiar, something she could control.
I should have left. My purpose was accomplished, evaluation initiated, cooperation secured. But I watched Dana work for several minutes, observing the way her fingers moved across the datapad, the micro-expressions that flickered across her face as she worked through the problems.
She was brilliant. I could see it in the way she approached each question, the intuitive leaps she made, the creative solutions she crafted. Not just competent, genuinely, startlingly brilliant.
Mothership had rescued thousands of beings over the years. Most were grateful. Many were skilled. Few were extraordinary.
Dana was extraordinary.
And that complicated everything, because extraordinary meant valuable, and valuable meant the Captain would want to keep her, and keeping her meant she'd be aboard Mothership for years. Working in my department. Under my supervision.
I wasn't entirely sure how I felt about that.
"Er'dox?" Dana's voice interrupted my thoughts. She was looking up from the datapad, confusion on her face. "This question here, about dark matter integration in propulsion systems. We don't use dark matter technology. Is that what powers Mothership?"
"Yes. Dark matter drive allows faster-than-light travel across vast distances."
"That's..." She trailed off, staring at the question like it held secrets of the universe. Which, in a way, it did. "We theorized about dark matter. Had equations, models, but we never figured out practical applications. You're telling me you've weaponized it for space travel?"
"Not weaponized. Harnessed. There's a difference."
"Can you teach me? Not for the test, but—" She stopped herself, seemed to remember where she was, who she was talking to. "Sorry. Professional curiosity."
"Don't apologize for curiosity. It's the foundation of good engineering." I pulled up a basic schematic of Mothership's propulsion system, displayed it on the portable interface. "This is heavily simplified, but it shows the basic principle. Dark matter containment fields, energy conversion, directed thrust."
Dana stood, moving closer to study the hologram, her people watching nervously as she approached me. But she was focused entirely on the schematic, her brilliant mind already working through the implications.
"The containment fields would need to be incredibly precise," she murmured. "Any variance and the whole thing would collapse."
"Exactly. Which is why the system requires constant monitoring and adjustment. One of Engineering's primary responsibilities."
"And if the fields failed?"
"Catastrophic cascade. Best case scenario, we drop out of warp and drift. Worst case..." I let the implication hang.
"Worst case, the ship tears itself apart from the inside." Dana looked up at me. "How often does it need adjustment?"
"Constant minor adjustments. Major recalibration every hundred hours of warp travel."
"That's insane. The computational requirements alone?—"
"Are manageable with proper systems and trained engineers." I watched her process the information, saw the hunger for knowledge war with exhaustion and displacement. "But that's beyond entry-level assessment. Focus on the basic questions first."
She nodded, returned to her datapad, but I could see her glancing back at the propulsion schematic. Fascinated. Engaged. Already thinking about how it worked, how it could fail, how it could be improved.
This time I did leave, because staying would only complicate an already complicated situation.
In the corridor outside the medical bay, I pulled up Dana's preliminary assessment on my own interface. She'd completed thirty percent of the questions in the time I'd been watching her, and her answers were exceptional. Not just correct, butdemonstrated a deep understanding of engineering principles that translated across technological paradigms.
She wasn't just qualified for Engineering. She was qualified for advanced positions that typically required years of training.
And she'd done it all while keeping fifteen other people alive on a death planet with nothing but salvaged parts and determination.
I sent a message to Captain Tor'van:Request meeting regarding human integration. Have preliminary assessment data. Recommend expedited processing.
The response came within minutes:Meeting approved. My office, 0800 tomorrow. Bring complete evaluation data for all sixteen humans.
