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“I have become less interested in wasting time.”

Brakk’s voice erupts from inside the ship. “Who moved my stabilizer cases?”

Three loading technicians freeze.

Sira says, “Some constants remain.”

Brakk stomps down the ramp with grease already on his hands despite the fact that we have not launched yet. His new work vest displays his formal title, Technical Recovery Lead, above a smaller patch someone has embroidered with HAZARD KING. I suspect Anita. I have chosen not to ask.

He points at the nearest loading crew. “Those cases were arranged in a sequence known as ‘Brakk knows where things are.’ Now they are arranged in a sequence known as ‘somebody is about to learn consequences.’”

The lead technician, a broad-shouldered Kiphian woman, folds her scaled arms. “They were blocking the medical supply lift.”

“They were guarding the medical supply lift from complacency.”

Anita looks over from the researcher cluster. “Brakk.”

“What?”

“Are we teaching consequences before or after launch?”

He considers. “After. But I am taking names.”

The Kiphian technician says, “Mine is on the manifest.”

“I will glare alphabetically.”

The young researchers laugh again, and Brakk pretends this irritates him. It does not. He likes being part of something that needs him, though he would rather chew through a power cable than admit it.

Anita finally escapes the cluster when Sira gestures toward the ship’s open hatch. The new team disperses toward boarding stations, still talking in excited, anxious bursts. I listen to the sound with an old soldier’s ear. They are afraid. Good. Fear makes fools pause. They are also eager. That is more dangerous, but not always bad. Eagerness can become courage with the right guardrails.

Anita crosses the bay toward me, the sunlight catching on her credential.

“Well?” she asks.

I look her over with deliberate seriousness. “The ship is ready. The team is nervous but capable. Brakk has threatened three technicians and one cargo strap.”

“The cargo strap had it coming.”

“I suspected you would say that.”

She glances toward the young researchers boarding behind us. Her expression becomes strange, open and shy despite everything she has survived. “They listened to me.”

“Yes.”

“I mean they really listened.”

“Yes.”

“One of them quoted my paper back at me.”

“I heard.”

Her mouth twists. “Was I insufferable?”

“No.”

“Do not lie because you love me.”