"That's not protocol," Vaxon said through the comm system—monitoring our observation, of course. "She's a security threat. We don't allow unsupervised contact."
"Then supervise it. But Commander, she's been alone for eleven months. She's just learned there are other Liberty survivors aboard. She needs to see another human face that isn't interrogating her." Dana looked at Tor'van. "Five minutes. That's all I need."
Tor'van considered this. "What do you hope to accomplish?"
"I don't know yet. But Kim knows things about Liberty, about our technical systems, about potentially other survivors that could be valuable. She's not going to share that information with Zandovian interrogators no matter how professional they are." Dana's voice was steady. "Let me try. Human to human. Survivor to survivor."
"You're not authorized for interrogation procedures."
"I'm not proposing interrogation. I'm proposing conversation. Captain, I found her operation. I corrupted her transmission. I've earned the right to at least try talking to her before you decide what happens next."
The logic was sound even if the emotional reasoning was complicated. Dana had proven herself repeatedly over the past two weeks. And Kim was more likely to respond to another human than to continued Zandovian questioning.
"Five minutes," Tor'van said finally. "Supervised by Security. Any indication of threat or collusion, and we terminate immediately."
Dana nodded once and headed for the interrogation room entrance.
I followed before conscious thought caught up, earning a raised eyebrow from Tor'van that I chose to ignore.
The interrogation room felt smaller from inside. Kim noticed immediately when Dana entered, her brown eyes tracking movement with calculation that suggested she was still processing options, still looking for advantages.
"Dr. Kim," Dana said, taking the seat across from her. I remained standing near the door with two security officers, close enough to intervene but far enough to provide the illusion of privacy.
"Engineer Dana." Kim's voice carried interest mixed with wariness. "The one who poisoned my transmission. Clever work. I didn't detect the data injection until the stream completed."
"You trained me. Indirectly. I attended your lectures on integrated systems theory aboard Liberty. Applied your principles to corrupting your own operation."
Something that might have been respect flickered across Kim's expression. "Using my own methodology against me. There's poetic justice in that."
"There's necessity in that. What you were doing endangered fifty thousand beings, Dr. Kim. I couldn't let it succeed regardless of your motivation."
"Call me Sarah. We're beyond formal titles now." Kim shifted in her restraints, wincing at what was probably bruised ribs from the security team's aggressive entry. "The others from Liberty. You said they're safe. How many survived?"
"Seventeen including you. Sixteen were rescued from a death planet two weeks ago. Alex Bail was found yesterday in a survival shelter thirty kilometers from his primary position. And you, obviously."
"Seventeen survivors from three hundred crew." Kim's voice went quiet. "So many lost."
"So many found," Dana corrected. "Against impossible odds, seventeen people made it through a cosmic disaster that should have killed us all. That's worth something."
"Is it? We're stranded in a galaxy we've never heard of, separated from Earth by distances that have no meaning, working off debts we didn't ask for. What kind of survival is that?"
"The kind where we're alive and together instead of dead and alone." Dana leaned forward slightly. "Sarah, I understand debt. I understand feeling like you owe people who kept you breathing when death was the logical outcome. But you've been aboard Mothership for six months. You could have told someone about your mining colony contacts, about the debt you felt you owed. Could have found a way to help them that didn't involve stealing classified specifications and nearly getting yourself killed."
"You think I didn't try? I spent three months looking for legitimate ways to repay them. Every option required resources I didn't have or authorizations I couldn't get. So I built my own solution using the skills I did have."
"And assaulted crew members in the process. Caused casualties through your defensive measures." Dana's voice was steady but I heard the edge underneath. "Your debt to the mining colony doesn't erase your debt to Mothership. Or to the crew you endangered."
"I know." Kim looked away, something cracking in her controlled expression. "I know what I've done. I know what I've cost. But Dana, they saved me when I was dying. Nursed me through injuries that should have been fatal. Gave me shelter and resources and time to heal. How was I supposed to ignore that? How was I supposed to just... accept that I'd never be able to repay them?"
The raw emotion in those words hit harder than professional calculation. I'd seen this before, survivors carrying debt-weightthey couldn't bear, making desperate choices because obligation felt more important than safety.
Dana was quiet for a long moment. Then: "You're not going to like what I'm about to say."
"Say it anyway."
"The mining colony saved you. Mothership saved me and fifteen other humans. Sixteen if we count Bail. We're all carrying debts we can't fully repay. The difference is I chose to honor my debt by being the best engineer I could be within their systems. You chose to honor yours by working against them." Dana's green eyes were steady on Kim's face. "Your way nearly got people killed. My way builds something that might actually last."
"Your way makes you complicit in your own captivity."
