Page 28 of Commander’s Mate

Something changed in her expression.

Not relief—recognition.

“Yes,” she said. “It is.”

A child began crying two rooms away.

Harper turned toward the sound.

So did I.

She noticed.

“Go command your ship,” she said.

“That sounded like an order.”

“It was a suggestion.”

“A forceful suggestion.”

“I’m good at those.”

That small thread of humor pulled unexpectedly through my chest.

“Apparently.”

I left because she was right.

On the next deck, I issued six new orders.

By the time I reached the bridge, we had created an emergency refugee division.

I hated the term.

It sounded temporary.

Like a category.

Like something that could be closed once the paperwork was complete.

But the people aboard us were not temporary.

Their lives had been interrupted, not ended.

I opened a new command file.

RESCUED PERSONS—ACTIVE PROTECTION.

Then I added the first standing instruction.

No physical contact without consent except immediate medical or safety necessity.

A small rule.

One of thousands we would need.

The auction house had taught me how easy it was to break a chain.