The dining hall noise faded to the background. I saw him differently in this moment. Not the unshakeable Captain of the Starbreaker, but a younger version of him, holding a line he wouldn’t cross, watching people die because the rules said doing nothing was correct.
“The Reach praised you,” I said.
“Commendation of the first order for excellence in the line of duty. My commanding officer used me as an example in training scenarios afterward. Proof that discipline holds even under emotional pressure.” His jaw tightened. “That praise felt wrong. Still does. Because I learned something that day that doctrine doesn’t teach.”
“What?”
“That following orders and being right aren’t always the same thing.” He let the words settle between us. “I was following orders. The operation succeeded. The strategic outcome was preserved. And four thousand people died while I watched, because orders mattered more to me than being right.”
My throat closed. I thought about the uprisings spreading across systems: Verath-7, Coriolan Station, a dozen other names scrolling through intelligence reports. People who had heard what the Starbreaker stood for, what I stood for, and decided to stand up in support of the cause, too.
How many of them would become casualties I read about in Vaelix’s intelligence report? How many were already dead because I’d given them hope that got them killed?
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you’re doing something different.” Torvyn leaned forward slightly. “You’re not hiding behind doctrine. You’re not letting strategy become a shield against responsibility. You made a choice, knowingit would cost something, knowing you couldn’t predict what would happen, and you’re still sitting with that choice instead of retreating into justification.”
“I don’t feel like I’m doing anything different. I feel like I’m making it up as I go and hoping I don’t get everyone killed.”
“Sometimes, that’s what leadership is.” Something that might have been a smile flickered across his face. “The Reach taught me that following orders means certainty. Knowing the right answer and implementing it in a way that accomplishes the established strategic goals. Years of training, years of doctrine, years of being told that doubt is weakness and hesitation is failure.”
He shook his head slowly.
“They were wrong. Leadership isn’t about knowing you’re right. It’s about making a choice, fully aware that certainty will never come. It’s about owning the choice instead of the outcome, because outcomes belong to chaos and circumstance, but the choice is yours. That’s what you carry.”
I felt something shift in my chest. The feeling of hearing a truth I’d already known but hadn’t found words for.
“You’re not telling me I’ll succeed,” I said.
“No.”
“You’re not telling me I’m making the right call.”
“I don’t know if you will. Neither do you. That’s the point.” Torvyn held my gaze. “What I’m telling you is that you won’t be alone in the choosing. That’s what I failed to understand back then. That I could have chosen differently, and that choosing differently wouldn’t have meant choosing alone. I had people who would have followed me across the border to save those ships, and I didn’t give them the chance.”
He reached across the table, his hand stopping just short of mine. An offer. I could take it or leave it, and either would be acceptable.
“You’re visible now. People are watching you, deciding what your choices mean for them. That’s a weight that will only get heavier. But you’re not carrying it by yourself.”
I looked at his hand, then at his face.
“Why?” I asked. “Why follow me? You could command your own ship. Be the face of this. Why me?”
“Because you built this. You believe in it, and I believe in you.” His voice was quiet but certain. “Because you don’t pretend everything will go perfectly. Because you stood on that bridge two days ago and decided to lead a rebellion you can’t control, knowing it would hurt, and you didn’t lie to anyone about what that meant.”
He tapped my hand once, then pulled his back.
“I followed doctrine without questioning it once. Because I believed following orders was enough. I follow you because you’ve shown me what it looks like to choose being right instead, even when being right doesn’t come with guarantees.”
The sounds of the dining hall continued around us; people eating, talking, living their lives in the small spaces between crises. I watched them for a moment. A group played cards in the corner, their voices low and easy. Life, happening. Continuing. Because that’s what life did, even when the galaxy was on fire.
My mission. My responsibility. My choice.
“I’m scared,” I admitted. “Every day. That I’ll make the wrong call and people will die for it.”
“Good.” Torvyn stood, collecting his tray. “Fear means you understand the stakes. Certainty is what kills people; the conviction that you already know the answer, so you stop looking for better ones.”
He paused beside my chair, looking down at me with a quiet smile. Something that held care without diminishing respect.
