The diagnostic panel threw error codes in three different subsystems simultaneously, which shouldn't have been possible unless someone had done something spectacularly stupid to the power distribution network.
I traced the cascading failures back through seventeen junction points, my fingers flying across the holographic interface. Beside me, Will muttered calculations under his breath, his dark eyes tracking the same energy patterns I was hunting.
"There," he said, highlighting a node in Sector 9. "Someone bypassed the load balancer. Again."
"Second time this month." I pulled up the maintenance logs, scowled at the signature. "Kev'tar's engineering crew. I told them three times that the human-designed systems need graduated power increases, not instant surges."
"They're Zandovian. Graduated anything feels inefficient."
"Inefficient beats exploding."
Will grinned, the expression still looked wrong on his face after six months of recovery. Too thin, too sharp, haunted around the edges despite Bea's best therapeutic efforts. But he was alive. Working beside me in the newly expanded electrical systems bay. Brilliant as ever, even with gaps in his memory from the stasis damage.
We'd found seventy-three more survivors in the months since that first derelict mission. Scattered across the Shorstar Galaxy in failing pods and dying ships, clinging to hope that someone would search. That someone would care.
Vaxon had made it his personal mission to find every last one. Reprogrammed Mothership's long-range sensors, established search patterns, dedicated resources to scanning for Liberty's unique energy signatures. Captain Tor'van had initially resisted, rescue missions cost time and credits, but one look at Vaxon's expression had ended that argument.
My warrior had a protective streak wider than the galaxy. Applied it to everyone now, not just me.
Though I still got special treatment. The kind that involved him showing up in my workshop at 0200 hours with food and gentle threats to carry me to bed if I didn't stop working. The kind that meant he'd memorized my hyperfocus patterns and learned exactly when to intervene.
I'd learned to tolerate it. Occasionally even appreciate it.
Occasionally.
The comm chimed, Bea's voice, tight with controlled excitement. "Elena, get to medical. Now."
My hands froze on the interface. That tone. That specific combination of professional calm and barely restrained emotion.
"Is it?—"
"Dana's in labor. Move."
I dropped everything. Literally, the diagnostic panel clattered to the deck, error codes still scrolling. Will caught my arm before I could bolt.
"Go," he said. "I'll handle this. Go."
I ran.
The corridors blurred past, crew members pressed against walls to let me through, recognizing emergency mode when they saw it. Nearly a year on Mothership had taught them that Elena Vasquez at full speed meant either imminent disaster or important human celebration.
Today was celebration. Had to be celebration. Dana had carried this pregnancy for seven months, Zandovian-human gestations were shorter than full-term human, longer than Zandovian. Hybrid biology creating new rules, new timelines, new possibilities.
The first human-Zandovian child. Proof that different species could create something beautiful together. That what we'd built here mattered.
I hit the medical bay at a dead sprint, nearly colliding with Vaxon outside the main doors. He caught me instinctively, steadied me against his massive frame.
"She's been in labor for three hours," he said before I could ask. "Er'dox is losing his mind. Zorn keeps threatening to sedate him."
"And Dana?"
"Demanding that someone invent better pain management." His cobalt-blue eyes gleamed with amusement. "Jalina's in there sketching birthing suite redesigns. Bea's considering violence against all males."
"Sounds normal."
"Entirely normal."
He guided me through to the waiting area, not the sterile observation rooms but the comfortable space Jalina had designed specifically for this. Soft seating scaled for multiple species sizes, warm lighting instead of harsh medical white, viewports showing the galaxy beyond.
