"Won't know for certain until someone tries to use the data," I admitted. "But if I did this right, anyone attempting to exploit those specifications will find themselves with detailed plans for systems that don't actually exist."
"Good enough for now." Vaxon gestured toward the captured saboteur. "We've got our traitor. And Dana, you're going to want to see this."
Something in his tone made my stomach drop. That wasn't the voice of someone announcing victory. That was the voice of someone delivering bad news they wished they didn't have to share.
I followed Er'dox and Vaxon to where the security team had their prisoner secured, face-down on the deck, hands restrained, surrounded by officers who looked ready to shoot at the slightest provocation.
The saboteur was small. Roughly my height. Moving with pain that suggested injuries from the breach entry or subsequent capture.
Vaxon nodded to one of his officers, who carefully rolled the prisoner over.
Human. Female. Maybe early thirties. Dark hair matted with blood from a scalp wound. Brown eyes that tracked us with calculation despite obvious pain.
And completely unfamiliar. Not one of the sixteen survivors from the burning planet. Not Bail from his lonely shelter. Someone else. Someone who'd been aboard Mothership long enough to gain high-level clearances and technical expertise.
A Liberty survivor we'd never known existed.
"You," the woman said, her voice rough but steady. She was looking directly at me. "You're Dana. From the rescue group."
"Who are you?" I managed.
"Dr. Sarah Kim. Chief Engineer aboard Liberty." She coughed, winced. "Or I was, before the wormhole toreeverything apart. Before I spent eleven months fighting for survival. Before I finally made it to Mothership and discovered I wasn't the only one who'd survived."
Dr. Sarah Kim. I knew that name. Every Liberty crew member knew that name. She'd designed half the ship's systems, recruited most of the engineering team, been legendary for her technical brilliance and uncompromising standards.
And she'd been in escape pod cluster seven when the wormhole hit. The pods we'd lost track of immediately. The ones we'd assumed were destroyed or scattered so far that rescue was impossible.
"You survived," I said, the words inadequate but all I could manage.
"I survived." Kim's laugh was bitter. "Crashed on a mining colony in the Contested Reaches. Spent months recovering from injuries that should have killed me. Learned Zandovian technology from salvaged equipment and desperate necessity. Made my way to Mothership months ago using falsified credentials and technical expertise that was impressive enough no one questioned my background too closely."
"And then what?" Vaxon asked, his voice carrying dangerous calm. "You infiltrated our crew? Built your communication array? Tried to sell our secrets to raiders?"
"I tried to contact my people," Kim corrected. "The mining colony where I crashed, they helped me survive. They're not raiders, Commander. They're a settlement operating beyond official jurisdiction because they don't want to deal with factional politics and exploitation. I promised them information in exchange for the help they gave me. Technical specifications they could use to improve their defenses against actual pirates."
"You were selling Mothership's defensive systems to unauthorized parties," Er'dox said, his voice flat. "Regardless of your justification, that's treason."
"That's survival." Kim met his eyes without flinching. "I owed them a debt. They saved my life when I was dying. I don't abandon my debts, Engineer. Even when honoring them costs me everything else."
The words hung in the smoke-filled bay, complicated and uncomfortable. Because I understood debt. Understood obligation. Understood the weight of owing someone for keeping you alive when death was the logical outcome.
I just wasn't sure I understood it enough to commit treason.
"The transmission is corrupted," I said quietly. "Most of what you sent was garbage data I poisoned in real-time. Your mining colony friends won't get functional specifications."
Kim's expression didn't change. "Good. Then maybe no one has to die because I tried to honor a debt that was impossible to repay." She looked at me directly. "Dana, the others from Liberty. The ones you're with. Are they?—"
"Safe. Alive. Integrating into Mothership's crew." I couldn't keep the edge from my voice. "Unlike you, we chose to work within the system instead of sabotaging it."
"You chose to accept your chains. I chose to fight mine. Different approaches to the same impossible situation."
"Enough," Vaxon said. "You're under arrest for sabotage, unauthorized system access, assault on security personnel, and attempted transmission of classified information. You'll be held in secure detention pending Captain Tor'van's decision on formal charges."
Two security officers hauled Kim to her feet, her restrained hands making the movement awkward. She stumbled, injury or exhaustion or both, and I moved to steady her before conscious thought intervened.
Our eyes met. Hers were exhausted, defiant, carrying eleven months of trauma I couldn't fully comprehend.
"I'm not sorry," she said quietly. "I'd do it again. They saved me. I owed them."
