That strengthens the pull.
“Stand down,” I say.
Korl hesitates. “Commander, I?—”
“Stand. Down.”
My voice does not raise.
It does not need to.
Korl steps back like I shoved him. “Yes, sir.”
He disappears into the corridor. His footsteps are uneven.
I log the override attempt manually, bypassing Coalition relay. I will not have her fate decided by men who have never heard her speak.
Inside, she stirs again. I hear the sheets rustle. A faint sigh. Her voice, groggy: “You’re still there.”
Not a question.
“Yes,” I say through the door.
“Don’t you have anywhere else to be?”
“No.”
She laughs. It is quiet. Sleep-thick.
“You’re not like the others.”
“That is correct.”
Another silence.
“You planning to kill me if I step out of line?” she asks.
“No.”
“Then what?”
I close my eyes. Let the answer bloom in the space between us.
“I am... deciding.”
The words feel wrong in my mouth, like they do not belong to me. I am not meant to speak in uncertainties. Command is clarity. Decision. Action. But I do not lie, and anything I would say to the contrary would be fabrication.
On the other side of the door, she is quiet for a beat. I listen for the shift of her breath, the pressure of her silence. Then I walk away—not because I choose to, but because I have to. Because proximity does not help the equation resolve. It only distorts it.
I return to my assigned terminal—Sector B, Subsuite 4. No windows. A single recessed console. Touch-surface keyed to my biometrics. It recognizes me before I input the command. I sit. Back straight. Breathing steady.
And I open her audit history again.
There is nothing unusual at first glance. No red flags. No encrypted messaging. No known associations with resistance groups, planetary sovereignty networks, or fringe science cooperatives. All of that I have read before. What I am looking for now areanomalies.
Not in her actions.
In myreactions.
