Page 325 of Commander’s Mate

“You prefer mail carrier?”

“I was good at it.”

“You are good at this.”

I looked at the room full of rescued people deciding whether they would become settlers, crew, trainees, or passengers.

“This isn’t just paperwork anymore.”

“No.”

“It never was, was it?”

His hand brushed mine. “No.”

Across the bay, Nora was speaking quietly with Sahvin. Scarlet was pretending not to notice Pyrr waiting for her. Zoe was teaching two weak survivors how to use resistance bands without hurting themselves.

We had not recreated what any of us lost.

Maybe we were not supposed to.

We were making something else.

The office acquired a second chair.

Haret’s brother built it.

It was ugly.

I loved it.

The job was less lovable.

Recovery Director sounded important until I discovered it meant everybody brought me the problem that belonged to two departments and therefore belonged to neither.

Medical privacy versus family search.

Transport capacity versus reunification.

Command intelligence versus survivor confidentiality.

Settlement planning versus the right not to settle anywhere.

I spent an entire morning defining what I controlled.

Not much.

Good.

“I do not want authority over people,” I told Tivid.

“Then your title is poorly selected.”

“I want authority over process.”

“That is more dangerous.”

“Probably.”