Dana was going to hate the attention.
"She'll need additional training," I said. "Field protocols, tactical awareness, emergency procedures. She can't keep getting lucky."
"That wasn't luck, Er'dox. That was skill and instinct working together." Krev studied me with uncomfortable intensity. "You sound like you're planning to personally oversee her training."
"She's in my department. Her development is my responsibility."
"Right. Responsibility. That's definitely what I'm seeing in how you watch her work."
I didn't dignify that with a response. Instead, I returned my attention to Bail's debriefing, where he'd moved on to describing his attempts at reverse-engineering Zandovian propulsion theory from salvaged components.
"The dark matter containment principles were fascinating," Bail was saying. "I couldn't replicate them, didn't have the materials or equipment, but I could see the underlying mathematics. Your civilization's understanding of exotic energy sources is centuries ahead of human development."
"And yet you survived using human engineering philosophy," Zorn noted. "Different approach, different strengths."
"Different desperation, mostly." Bail shifted on the medical bed, wincing slightly. "Is Dana here? I'd like to thank her. For not giving up on the signal."
"She's debriefing with Captain Tor'van. But I'm certain she'll visit once she's finished."
I pulled up my communicator, sent a message to Dana's interface: Bail is asking for you. Medical bay when you're done with Tor'van.
Her response came within seconds: On my way. How is he?
Stable. Talkative. Alive because you insisted we keep looking.
Three dots appeared, disappeared, appeared again. Finally: Team effort. But thank you for trusting me.
Always trust good engineering instincts, I sent back, then immediately questioned why I was having personal conversations through official channels when I should be monitoring system reports.
Krev was still watching me with that knowing expression.
"Not a word," I warned.
"Wouldn't dream of it, Chief."
Dana arrived twenty minutes later, still wearing her field gear and looking like she'd rather be anywhere else. The attention from passing crew members was obvious with stares, whispers, the kind of recognition that came from doing something noteworthy. She navigated it with visible discomfort, shoulders tight, moving quickly.
I intercepted her before she could reach Medical. "How was Tor'van?"
"Thorough. He wanted every detail three times, cross-referenced against Vaxon's tactical report and your engineering analysis." She rubbed her face, exhaustion showing through professional composure. "But he approved the mission parameters and cleared me for future field work. Which is either good news or terrible news, depending on whether I survive the next mission."
"You'll survive. I'll make certain of that."
Gratitude mixed with that uncertainty she still carried despite two weeks of exceptional performance flickered over her face. "You don't have to protect me."
"I'm not protecting you. I'm ensuring my department doesn't lose a valuable engineer to preventable field casualties." The liecame smoothly, professionally appropriate. "Now go see Bail. He's been asking for you."
She nodded and disappeared into Medical, leaving me standing in the corridor trying to convince myself that keeping Dana alive was purely a professional concern.
I was getting worse at that particular self-deception.
Through Medical's observation window, I watched their reunion, two humans who'd survived impossible disasters, finding each other across light-years and cosmic accidents. Bail's face when he saw Dana was pure relief, like her presence confirmed he wasn't hallucinating rescue. Dana's expression was more complex, joy at finding another survivor, grief for the many days he'd spent alone, determination that suggested she was already calculating how to help him integrate.
Always protecting. Always responsible. Always carrying more weight than one person should bear.
"They're going to want a memorial," Zorn said quietly, appearing beside me with characteristic silence. "The humans. For the Liberty crew who didn't survive. Bail mentioned it during debriefing, he needs to honor the dead before he can fully embrace living."
"Cultural practice?"
