I wanted to argue. Wanted to deflect and minimize and maintain the protective uncertainty that kept expectations manageable. But he was right. I'd found sophisticated sabotage, decoded impossible signals, and insisted on following instinct when logic said stop.
I'd earned this.
"Okay," I said finally. "I'll present the report. But you're backing me up if I forget technical terminology because my brain is currently running on fumes and stubbornness."
"Deal."
The rest of the flight passed in comfortable silence. I watched the survivor's medical readings stay stable, watched my team move through post-mission routines, watched the stars stream past the viewscreen as we accelerated back toward Mothership.
Many, many days alone. And now he'd wake up surrounded by other humans, by aliens who'd chosen to rescue him, by a found family that kept growing despite cosmic disasters.
We'd saved him. Together.
And that was worth every terrifying moment of this mission.
Er'dox's hand found mine in the darkness of the transport, his massive fingers curling around my smaller ones with unexpected gentleness.
I didn't pull away.
Behind us, Vaxon's voice was low on the comm: "Captain, we're detecting unusual power fluctuations in the secured bay. Might be nothing, but..."
Er'dox's grip tightened slightly.
"Investigate," the Captain ordered. "Quietly."
Our moment shattered, replaced by the cold reality that on Mothership, trouble was never far away.
9
Er'dox
The survivor's name was Alex Bail, and he wouldn't stop talking, even three days later.
Not that I blamed him. Many days of isolation would make anyone desperate for conversation. But I'd been monitoring his debriefing with Zorn for three hours now, and Bail had detailed every single day of his survival with the kind of obsessive thoroughness that suggested he'd been cataloging it all just to stay sane.
"Day ninety-seven, I realized the water reclamation system was failing faster than projected," Bail was saying, his voice still hoarse despite medical intervention. "Had to improvise a backup using salvaged condenser coils and ice-rock melting. Efficiency was terrible, maybe thirty percent of theoretical, but it kept me from dying of dehydration."
Zorn made notes on his medical datapad, his forest-green skin reflecting the bay's lighting. "Your resourcefulness is impressive. The medical scans show significant malnutrition, but you maintained cognitive function throughout. That suggests disciplined resource management."
"Suggests I was too stubborn to die quietly." Bail's laugh turned into a cough. "Sorry. Lungs are still adjusting to the proper atmosphere."
I watched through the observation window, analyzing Bail's improvised engineering solutions as he described them. Survival engineering at its most desperate, no elegance, no efficiency, just raw determination to make broken systems function one more day. Dana would appreciate the methodology.
Dana, who'd insisted we search for him. Dana, who'd decoded his signal when my entire department missed it. Dana, who'd been right about everything and was currently in Captain Tor'van's office presenting her findings like she'd been doing field reports her entire career instead of exactly once.
Krev appeared at my shoulder, because of course he did. My second-in-command had a supernatural ability to materialize whenever I was trying to process complicated thoughts in peace.
"Bail's stable," he observed. "Medical estimates of full recovery in two weeks. That's exceptional given his condition when we found him."
"Zorn's good at his job."
"So are you. And so is Dana, apparently." Krev's tone was carefully neutral. "Tor'van's already approved her field status. She's cleared for future reconnaissance missions."
I turned to face him. "That was fast."
"She found a survivor everyone else had written off as a salvage signal. She decoded communication methods that shouldn't have been possible. And she did it while maintaining professional composure despite obvious terror." Krev's metallic green skin caught the light. "Tor'van recognizes capability when he sees it. So does everyone else aboard Mothership by now."
Word traveled fast on a city-sized vessel. By the time we'd docked, the entire crew had heard about the human engineerwho'd found one of her own people through nothing but determination and creative analysis.
