"Life signs detected," the pilot announced. "One contact, weak but stable."
My heart jumped into my throat.
"Land us," Vaxon ordered. "Security formation alpha. Er'dox, Dana, with me."
This time I didn't wait for the ramp to fully extend before moving. I hit the ice-rock surface at something close to a run,my lower gravity making each step cover more distance than expected, heading for the tent shelter with single-minded focus.
"Dana, slow down!" Er'dox called behind me, but I was already at the entrance, already pulling the emergency release, already?—
The interior was dark except for failing emergency lights. And in the center, wrapped in thermal blankets on a makeshift medical bed, was a human.
Alive. Barely. But alive.
I dropped to my knees beside him, pulling medical scanners from my kit even though I barely knew how to use them. The readings were bad, severe hypothermia, dehydration, multiple system failures from extended malnutrition.
"Medic!" I shouted into my comm. "I need medical support now!"
The man's eyes opened, barely, just slits showing brown irises that struggled to focus. He looked at me, and I saw the moment recognition hit. Another human. After more than four hundred days alone, another human face.
"Real?" His voice was barely a whisper.
"Real. I'm Dana. From Liberty. We got your signal. We came to find you." I was babbling, and couldn't stop myself. "You're not alone anymore. We're going to get you out of here."
"Others?"
"Sixteen of us survived the wormhole. We were rescued by a ship called Mothership. You're going to be seventeen."
A sound that might have been a laugh or a sob. "Seventeen. Thought I was the last."
"You're not the last. You're found."
The medical team pushed past me with professional efficiency, scanners and emergency equipment appearing from nowhere. I backed away to give them space, watching them workwith the kind of controlled urgency that meant the situation was critical but not hopeless.
Er'dox appeared at my shoulder, his massive hand settling gently on my upper arm. "You found him."
"We found him. Because you trusted me enough to extend the mission."
"You gave me reason to trust you. That's different."
Vaxon was coordinating with the medical team, his tactical precision applied to evacuation protocols. "We need to move him now. Life support in this shelter will fail completely within an hour. And Dana? Good call pushing for the search."
High praise from the security chief who'd objected to my presence on the mission. I'd take it.
The transport back to the landing craft was careful and controlled. The survivor, I'd need to learn his name, add him to the mental roster of people I was responsible for, drifted in and out of consciousness, but the medical team kept him stable. And when we loaded into the craft, heading back toward Mothership, I finally let myself believe we'd succeeded.
One more survivor. One more life saved from the disaster that had scattered us across galaxies.
Er'dox sat beside me during the return flight, and I realized I was shaking. Adrenaline crash, probably, mixed with relief and exhaustion and about sixteen different emotions I didn't have names for.
"First field mission," he observed quietly.
"Complete with human survivor and zero shooting. I'd call that success."
"I'd call that exceptional performance under pressure. You decoded the signal, traced the coordinates, and insisted on searching when it would have been easier to give up." He paused. "Captain Tor'van will want a full report. You'll need to present your findings."
"Me? You're the senior officer. You should?—"
"You found him, Dana. You earned the right to tell his story." Er'dox's amber eyes were steady on mine. "And you earned the right to stop doubting whether you belong here. Two weeks aboard and you've already proven yourself invaluable. Accept it."
