"That's everything," Kim said finally, exhaustion evident in her voice. "Everything I know, everything I built, everything I tried to accomplish. Use it however you need."
"We will," I said. "And Kim? For what it's worth, your work was exceptional. Wrong application, but exceptional execution."
Something almost like a smile crossed her face. "High praise from Mothership's Chief Engineer. I'll treasure it from my detention cell."
Dana stood, moved closer to Kim despite security officers tensing. "You're not going to die alone in a cell, Sarah. I won't let that happen."
"You can't promise that. You don't have the authority."
"No. But I have influence with people who do." Dana glanced at me, and I saw determination mixed with something else. Trust, maybe. Confidence that I'd support whatever play she was about to make. "Er'dox, recommendation?"
The question put me on the spot in ways I hadn't anticipated. Professional assessment said Kim was too dangerous for unrestricted access, too compromised by her previous choices to be trusted fully. But she was also brilliant, motivated by loyalty rather than malice, and potentially valuable if properly supervised.
And Dana was looking at me with those green eyes that made objective analysis significantly more difficult.
"Restricted integration," I said carefully. "Kim works under close supervision in a controlled environment. Contributes technical expertise to approved projects while security monitors for any indication of repeated sabotage. Sentences are reduced based on cooperation and demonstrated rehabilitation."
"That's generous given the charges," Vaxon said.
"That's pragmatic given her capabilities and the precedent we're setting with human integration." I looked at Tor'van's position in the observation room. "Captain, we're going to rescue more humans. More Liberty survivors will be found, and they'll all be carrying trauma and debt and complicated feelings about obligation. How we handle Kim establishes how we'll handle all future cases."
Silence from the observation room. Then Tor'van's voice: "Recommendation noted. Final decision requires full command consultation. But Er'dox, you make a valid point about precedent. We'll take that into consideration."
Kim was returned to secure detention—better conditions than before, but still restricted. Dana and I left the interrogation area together, neither of us speaking until we were several corridors away.
"Thank you," Dana said finally. "For the recommendation. For not just writing her off as irredeemable."
"She's brilliant and broken. Not that different from half my department on difficult days." I paused, trying to find words forsomething I couldn't quite articulate. "And you were right. How we treat Kim matters. Not just for her, but for every human who comes after."
"You're thinking about the bigger picture. About seventeen survivors becoming twenty, becoming fifty. About building something that actually lasts instead of just surviving day to day."
"Someone has to. Might as well be the Chief Engineer and the junior engineer who keeps catching things everyone else misses."
Dana almost smiled. Almost. "Junior engineer. I've been aboard two weeks and already prevented sabotage, found a survivor, and poisoned a classified transmission. At what point do I get upgraded to 'moderately experienced engineer'?"
"When you stop needing eight hours of mandated rest after field operations."
"That's never going to happen. I run hot."
"I've noticed."
"I should get to Engineering," she said. "Monitor systems, check variance reports, obsess over whether there are other Kim-level operations I've missed."
"You should get to quarters and actually rest for once."
"Er'dox—"
"That wasn't a suggestion. That was an order from your supervisor who's getting concerned about your inability to recognize your own limitations." I softened my tone slightly. "You've been running on crisis adrenaline for forty-eight hours. You need actual rest before you burn out completely."
"What about you? You've been awake just as long."
"I have four years of experience managing extended operations. You have two weeks. There's a difference in adaptation capacity."
Dana studied me with those analytical eyes that made me feel uncomfortably seen. "You're worried about me specifically. Not just as a resource. As a person."
The observation was accurate enough to be uncomfortable. "I'm worried about all my engineers. You're just the one who's currently most at risk of collapse."
"Right. Professional concern. Of course." But something in her expression suggested she didn't entirely believe me.
