Chapter 5 #2
"Then I'll find out during evaluation." I deactivated the holographic display.
"But I reviewed your beacon for forty minutes before deciding to respond to your distress signal.
Forty minutes of studying technology I didn't understand, trying to determine if it represented a threat or a cry for help.
What I saw was elegant desperation, someone who understood the principles well enough to make impossible things work. That's not nothing, Dana."
She studied me with those analytical green eyes, and I felt uncomfortably seen. Like she was running her own evaluation, determining if I was trustworthy or just another variable in an equation that didn't balance.
"Okay," she said finally. "Evaluate me. Test my knowledge, my skills, whatever you need. But I want something in return."
"You're not in a position to negotiate."
"I'm in exactly the position to negotiate. You want to know what I'm capable of? I want to know what happens to my people. Where they'll be assigned. What their conditions will be. Who's responsible for their wellbeing."
"That's Captain Tor'van's decision."
"Then arrange a meeting. Because I'm not cooperating with your evaluation until I know my people will be treated fairly."
Behind her, the other humans shifted nervously. This was their leader making demands of an eight-foot alien on a ship where they had no power and no options. Brave or stupid, I couldn't quite decide.
"You realize I could just assign you wherever I want," I said. "Captain Tor'van gave me authorization to evaluate and place all sixteen of you."
"You could. But you won't get accurate assessments if we're terrified and resentful. You want cooperation? Prove you're worth cooperating with."
The challenge hovered between us. Most beings didn't challenge me, not directly, not when I had clear authority and they had nothing but defiance.
I should have been annoyed. Instead, I found myself almost amused? Impressed? She was bluffing with no cards, but doing it with such conviction that it almost worked.
"Fine," I said. "I'll arrange a meeting with Captain Tor'van. But the evaluation starts today. I need preliminary data to present when we discuss assignments."
Dana's expression shifted into surprise, that I'd agreed. "What kind of evaluation?"
"Basic competency assessment. Theoretical knowledge, practical application, problem-solving capabilities. I have diagnostic tests designed for engineering positions. You'll take those first."
"And the others?"
"They'll be evaluated by their respective department heads. Medical for anyone with healthcare training, Navigation for your pilot, Hydroponics for your botanist. Everyone will be assessed based on their stated skills."
"Stated skills." She laughed, short and bitter. "We were on an exploration mission, not a warship. Most of us are scientists, engineers, specialists in peaceful disciplines. I don't know how useful that makes us on a rescue vessel that apparently doubles as a military ship."
"Mothership is equipped for combat because we operate in dangerous sectors," I explained.
"But our primary function is rescue and integration of displaced beings.
Scientific knowledge is extremely valuable.
Engineering skills are critical. Your people's expertise in peaceful disciplines might be exactly what Mothership needs. "
I pulled up a basic engineering assessment on my portable interface, transferred it to the datapad Dana was holding. "Start with this. Theoretical analysis of power distribution systems. See how far you get."
Dana glanced at the assessment, and I saw her eyes widen slightly as she scanned the questions. "This is your basic competency test?"
"For entry-level engineering positions, yes."
"These are graduate-level problems. Multi-system integration, exotic energy sources, quantum field stabilization—"
"If they're too advanced—"
"I didn't say they were too advanced. I said they were graduate-level." She scrolled through more questions, something almost hungry in her expression. "This is actual engineering. Not just technical maintenance."
"Engineering is what I do. If you're going to work in my department, you need to understand real engineering problems, not just mechanical repairs."
Dana looked up at me, and something had shifted in her eyes. Not trust, not yet. But interest. Engagement. The look of someone presented with a challenge they actually wanted to tackle.
"How long do I have?"
"Take your time. I'm not timing you for speed, I'm assessing depth of knowledge."
She nodded, already settling back onto the medical bed with the datapad, her attention narrowing to the problems displayed there. Around her, the other humans relaxed slightly. Their leader was occupied with something familiar, something she could control.
I should have left. My purpose was accomplished, evaluation initiated, cooperation secured. But I watched Dana work for several minutes, observing the way her fingers moved across the datapad, the micro-expressions that flickered across her face as she worked through the problems.
She was brilliant. I could see it in the way she approached each question, the intuitive leaps she made, the creative solutions she crafted. Not just competent, genuinely, startlingly brilliant.
Mothership had rescued thousands of beings over the years. Most were grateful. Many were skilled. Few were extraordinary.
Dana was extraordinary.
And that complicated everything, because extraordinary meant valuable, and valuable meant the Captain would want to keep her, and keeping her meant she'd be aboard Mothership for years. Working in my department. Under my supervision.
I wasn't entirely sure how I felt about that.
"Er'dox?" Dana's voice interrupted my thoughts. She was looking up from the datapad, confusion on her face. "This question here, about dark matter integration in propulsion systems. We don't use dark matter technology. Is that what powers Mothership?"
"Yes. Dark matter drive allows faster-than-light travel across vast distances."
"That's..." She trailed off, staring at the question like it held secrets of the universe. Which, in a way, it did. "We theorized about dark matter. Had equations, models, but we never figured out practical applications. You're telling me you've weaponized it for space travel?"
"Not weaponized. Harnessed. There's a difference."
"Can you teach me? Not for the test, but—" She stopped herself, seemed to remember where she was, who she was talking to. "Sorry. Professional curiosity."
"Don't apologize for curiosity. It's the foundation of good engineering.
" I pulled up a basic schematic of Mothership's propulsion system, displayed it on the portable interface.
"This is heavily simplified, but it shows the basic principle.
Dark matter containment fields, energy conversion, directed thrust."
Dana stood, moving closer to study the hologram, her people watching nervously as she approached me. But she was focused entirely on the schematic, her brilliant mind already working through the implications.
"The containment fields would need to be incredibly precise," she murmured. "Any variance and the whole thing would collapse."
"Exactly. Which is why the system requires constant monitoring and adjustment. One of Engineering's primary responsibilities."
"And if the fields failed?"
"Catastrophic cascade. Best case scenario, we drop out of warp and drift. Worst case..." I let the implication hang.
"Worst case, the ship tears itself apart from the inside." Dana looked up at me. "How often does it need adjustment?"
"Constant minor adjustments. Major recalibration every hundred hours of warp travel."
"That's insane. The computational requirements alone—"
"Are manageable with proper systems and trained engineers." I watched her process the information, saw the hunger for knowledge war with exhaustion and displacement. "But that's beyond entry-level assessment. Focus on the basic questions first."
She nodded, returned to her datapad, but I could see her glancing back at the propulsion schematic. Fascinated. Engaged. Already thinking about how it worked, how it could fail, how it could be improved.
This time I did leave, because staying would only complicate an already complicated situation.
In the corridor outside the medical bay, I pulled up Dana's preliminary assessment on my own interface.
She'd completed thirty percent of the questions in the time I'd been watching her, and her answers were exceptional.
Not just correct, but demonstrated a deep understanding of engineering principles that translated across technological paradigms.
She wasn't just qualified for Engineering. She was qualified for advanced positions that typically required years of training.
And she'd done it all while keeping fifteen other people alive on a death planet with nothing but salvaged parts and determination.
I sent a message to Captain Tor'van: Request meeting regarding human integration. Have preliminary assessment data. Recommend expedited processing.
The response came within minutes: Meeting approved. My office, 0800 tomorrow. Bring complete evaluation data for all sixteen humans.
Complete evaluation data. Which meant I needed to coordinate with other department heads, compile assessments, and prepare recommendations. Work that would take most of the night.
But first, I needed to show Dana and her people their quarters. Medical observation was complete, and keeping them confined any longer would violate protocols regarding refugee treatment.
I returned to the medical bay, where Dana was still working through the assessment with single-minded focus. The others had settled into various positions around the bay. Some were sleeping, some talking quietly, all of them processing trauma in their own ways.
"Dana," I called.
She looked up, slightly dazed, like I'd pulled her out of deep thought. "Yeah?"