My communicator chimed. Dana again: It's been 8 hours since you sent me away. I'm officially no longer on mandatory rest. Can I come to Engineering?
I wanted to say no. Wanted to keep her away from the investigation until we understood the full scope of the threat. But I also knew her analytical perspective had been invaluable so far.
Come to Engineering, I sent. But stay away from sensitive systems. We're under full security protocols.
She arrived within ten minutes, moving through the biometric checkpoints with barely concealed impatience. When she reached my station, her green eyes immediately focused on my displays.
"You're trying to decrypt the transmission," she observed.
"Unsuccessfully. The encryption is adaptive and sophisticated. Standard approaches aren't working."
Dana studied the data for several minutes, her brilliant mind working through patterns I couldn't see. Then she pulled up a chair—still comically oversized for her frame—and began running her own analysis.
"This encryption structure is familiar," she said after a few minutes. "Not Zandovian familiar. Human familiar. We used similar adaptive protocols on Liberty for classified communications."
"You're saying a human encrypted this?"
"Or someone who learned encryption from studying human systems." She pulled up additional analysis tools. "The adaptation pattern follows human information theory rather than Zandovian mathematical structures. See here—the key generation algorithm uses principles from Earth cryptography."
I saw it once she pointed it out. The underlying mathematics were different from Zandovian approaches as creative rather than standardized, building security through complexity rather than pure computational difficulty.
"Can you break it?"
"Maybe. I worked with these protocols aboard Liberty. Not extensively, but enough to understand the theoretical framework." Dana's fingers were already moving across the interface. "Give me a few hours. If this is derived from human encryption, I might be able to exploit vulnerabilities that wouldn't be obvious to someone trained in Zandovian security."
"Security is monitoring all system access. You'll need clearance?—"
"Then get me clearance. Er'dox, if I'm right about this encryption, I'm probably the only person aboard Mothership who can break it quickly." She met my eyes, and I sawdetermination mixed with something else. Concern? "You trust me, right?"
The question cut deeper than she probably intended. Trust was complicated. Professional trust I'd given her from the moment her assessment scores proved her capability. But personal trust—trusting her with sensitive data, with critical operations, with pieces of Mothership's security—that required a different kind of confidence.
"I trust you," I said, and meant it completely. "I'll get you clearance. Break that encryption, Dana. Whatever's in that transmission, we need to know."
She nodded once, already refocusing on the work with single-minded intensity that reminded me exactly why I'd recruited her.
I opened a secure channel to Captain Tor'van. "Captain, Engineering. I need temporary security clearance for Dana. She's identified the encryption as derived from human protocols and believes she can break it."
"Human encryption on a transmission meant to sell our secrets to hostile forces," Tor'van said. "That's not coincidence."
"No. It's evidence that our saboteur either is human or has extensively studied human technology. Dana's the best resource we have for understanding both."
Silence for five seconds while Tor'van calculated risk versus reward. "Clearance approved. But Er'dox, she's under your direct supervision. Anything she accesses, you review. Anything she discovers, you report immediately."
"Understood."
The clearance came through within minutes. Dana dove into the encrypted data with the focused intensity I'd come to recognize, her analytical mind attacking the problem from angles that wouldn't occur to conventionally trained engineers.
I watched her work, noting the creative methodology, intuitive leaps rather than procedural steps. Human engineering philosophy applied to cryptography.
An hour passed. Then two. Dana barely moved except to adjust her analysis parameters, her eyes tracking data streams with absolute focus.
"Got something," she said finally. "The encryption key is multilayered, but the base algorithm uses a seed value that's... Er'dox, this is interesting. The seed is derived from Liberty's ship identification number."
"Meaning what?"
"Meaning whoever encrypted this had access to Liberty's classified systems. Either they salvaged intact computer cores from the wreckage, or..." She trailed off, her expression going complicated. "Or they were aboard Liberty. A crew member who survived and learned Zandovian technology well enough to build that communication array."
The implication settled over us like physical weight. A Liberty survivor with advanced technical knowledge. Someone who'd integrated into Mothership's crew well enough to gain high-level clearances. Someone who'd been planning this operation for months while appearing loyal.
