"To save people."
"To punish yourself."
The words hit like a physical blow. I actually rocked back, felt my shoulders hit the wall behind me.
Vaxon followed, his massive frame blocking out the rest of the room. "You think I don't see it? You've been taking progressively more dangerous assignments for months. Volunteering for maintenance that should go to senior engineers with proper safety teams. Working alone when regulations require partners. You're not being brave, Elena. You're being reckless. And reckless people get killed."
"That's not, I'm not—" My voice caught. "They're out there. Will is out there. He saved my life during the wormhole disaster, pushed me toward an escape pod when he could've taken it himself. I made it out and he didn't, and I've been living on Mothership for six months while he's been trapped in the dark, and you're telling me I shouldn't want to find him?"
"I'm telling you that you won't help him by getting yourself killed first."
"So what? I should just do nothing? Follow proper channels that'll take weeks to process while he runs out of air? Be a good little engineer and stay in my lane?"
"I'm saying you should let me protect you." His voice dropped lower, rougher. "Let me help you bring your people home without throwing your life away in the process."
"I don't need your protection."
"Whether you need it or not, you have it." His eyes bored into mine, cobalt intensity that made my pulse stutter. "Try to accept that."
He turned and walked out, leaving me alone in the conference room with my hammering heart and the realization that six hours from now, I'd be trapped on a shuttle with Vaxon for however long it took to reach that derelict.
Six hours to prepare. Six hours to figure out how to work with a man who made me want to simultaneously punch him and kiss him, often at the same time.
Six hours before I found out if Will was alive.
I pressed my palms against the cool wall, forcing my breathing to steady. The debris field glowed on theviewscreen, a tangle of metal and broken hopes floating in the dark.
Hold on, Will,I thought.I'm coming. Finally, impossibly, I'm coming.
And nothing, not regulations, not Vaxon's disapproval, not the dangers of contested space, was going to stop me.
Chapter
Four
Vaxon
The debris field looked like the corpse of a dying star of twisted metal catching Mothership's external lights, casting shadows that moved wrong, creating illusions of threat in every flicker.
I'd seen enough combat wreckage to recognize the violence here. Whatever had hit the Liberty escape pods hadn't been gentle. The wormhole had chewed them up, spat them out across this sector like a child destroying toys. Some pods had fused together on impact, creating the cluster Elena's scans had detected. Others had been pulverized into fragments barely larger than my fist.
Fifteen pods in total. Three showing active power signatures.
The numbers kept cycling through my head like a tactical assessment. Eighteen to three ratio. Eighty-three percent mortality before we'd even arrived.
I stood on Mothership's bridge beside Captain Tor'van, watching the tactical display while our approach vector narrowed. Elena stood three steps to my left, close enough that I could hear her breathing, rapid, controlled, the rhythm of someone forcing themselves to stay calm.
She'd barely slept in the three days since Captain Tor'van had authorized this mission. I knew because I'd been monitoring her quarters' activity logs, watching her work through night cycles while the rest of Mothership's crew rested. Security oversight, I'd told myself. Making sure she didn't do anything reckless before we reached the debris field.
The truth was more complicated.
"Structural integrity scans complete," Er'dox reported from his station. His massive frame bent over the engineering console, hands moving across holographic displays with practiced efficiency. "The pod cluster is heavily damaged but stable in three sections. Multiple hull breaches, but the intact compartments have maintained pressure. Radiation levels are elevated but within acceptable parameters for short-term exposure."
"Life signs?" Captain Tor'van asked. His deep voice carried command weight, eight hundred years of Zandovian military tradition compressed into two words.
A pause. Then: "Inconclusive. The power signatures indicate active life support, but I'm not detecting movement or heat signatures consistent with living beings."
Elena made a small sound, barely audible, quickly suppressed. I didn't look at her. Didn't need to. The tension radiating from her small frame was tangible enough to serve as its own sensor reading.
