Chapter 7
Er'dox
Two weeks into my assignment the coolant regulation variance should have been impossible to detect without specialized diagnostic equipment.
I stared at Dana's analysis for the third time in as many minutes, cross-referencing her data against my own monitoring systems. She'd caught the problem two hours before my automated alerts would have flagged it, identified the root cause with precision that suggested intuition as much as training, and recommended a solution that was actually more efficient than the standard protocol.
With equipment she'd been using for exactly two weeks.
"Problem, Chief?" Krev asked from his station, not looking up from his own work.
"No problem. Just reviewing Dana's performance metrics."
"Still exceptional?"
"Still exceptional."
Krev made a sound that might have been amusement. "You sound surprised. She scored in the ninety-seventh percentile on your assessment."
"Assessment scores don't always translate to practical application. Plenty of beings test well and fail under real conditions." I saved Dana's analysis to her performance file, watching her metrics populate. "She's not failing."
"Clearly. Which bothers you because...?"
Because it complicated things. Because having an exceptional engineer working under my direct supervision meant I'd spend significantly more time training her, mentoring her, watching her work with that intense focus she brought to everything.
Because Dana was brilliant and determined and completely unfamiliar with Zandovian professional boundaries, which meant navigating her presence in my department required constant recalibration.
"It doesn't bother me," I said instead. "It's just unexpected."
"Unexpected," Krev repeated, his tone suggesting he didn't believe me. "Right. That's definitely the word I'd use to describe how you've been obsessively checking her station every twelve minutes for the past two weeks."
"I check all new engineers' work. It's standard supervision."
"You check her work more than you check anyone else's work, including mine when I first started, and I'm your second-in-command."
I didn't have a good response to that, which meant Krev was probably right. I'd been monitoring Dana's performance more closely than strictly necessary, justifying it as appropriate oversight for someone working with foreign technology. But the truth was more complicated.
She fascinated me. Not just her engineering skills, though those were impressive, but the way she approached problems, the creative solutions she found, the stubborn determination that kept her going even when clearly exhausted.
She'd integrated into my department faster than any engineer I'd supervised, absorbed information at a pace that should have been impossible, and somehow made herself essential in fourteen days.
And she was still working to prove herself, still pushing harder than necessary, still treating every shift like an evaluation she might fail.
The comm chimed. Dana's voice, slightly breathless: "Er'dox. Got another variance alert, subsection twelve. This one's weird with a power fluctuation without corresponding load change. Running diagnostics now but wanted to flag it early."
I pulled up her data, saw immediately what she meant. The variance pattern was unusual, suggesting something beyond standard equipment failure.
"Hold your diagnostics. I'm coming to your station."
I crossed Engineering in less than a minute, aware of my team tracking the movement.
They'd gotten used to Dana's presence over the past two weeks, the tiny human engineer who'd somehow earned a place in my department through sheer competence and determination.
Most had accepted her. A few remained skeptical.
All of them were watching to see how I handled her.
Dana was hunched over her console, her fingers moving across the holographic interface with increasing confidence.
She'd learned to navigate Zandovian systems faster than I'd expected, her brilliant mind adapting to foreign technology with the same creative flexibility she'd demonstrated on the burning planet.
"Show me," I said.
She pulled up the variance data, overlaying it with system load patterns and historical baselines.
"See? Power draw is fluctuating, but there's no corresponding change in connected systems. Usually variance correlates with load, something draws more power, the system compensates. This is fluctuating without a trigger."
"Which suggests?"
"Either a sensor malfunction giving us false readings, or something's bleeding power from the distribution network without proper load registration." She zoomed in on the variance pattern. "Personally, I'm betting on power bleed. The pattern's too regular for random sensor failure."
I ran my own analysis, confirming her hypothesis. Power bleed. Someone or something was drawing from Mothership's systems without authorization, and they'd been clever enough to mask it as normal variance.
"When did this start?"
Dana pulled up historical data. "First variance was eighteen hours ago, barely noticeable. It's been gradually increasing—point-two percent increments every three hours. At current progression, it'll be obvious enough for automated alerts in another six hours."
"But you caught it now."
"I've been watching this subsection specifically since my first shift. It's been completely stable for two weeks, no variance, no fluctuation, just perfect power distribution. Then suddenly it starts varying? That's not normal equipment degradation. That's something else."
Brilliant observation. Most engineers would have waited for automated confirmation before flagging such minor variance. Dana's survival instincts made her hypervigilant, and that hypervigilance was catching problems before they became critical.
"I'm alerting Security," I said. "This could be unauthorized access, possibly sabotage. Good catch, Dana."
"Should I keep monitoring?"
"Yes. Log everything. If the bleed pattern changes, notify me immediately." I opened a secure channel to Vaxon. "Security Chief, Engineering. We've got a situation."
Vaxon's response was immediate. "Define situation."
"Unauthorized power draw from subsection twelve distribution network. Pattern suggests deliberate bleed rather than equipment failure. Recommend investigation."
"On my way. Secure the area."
I closed the comm and looked at Dana, who was already pulling up additional diagnostic data. "You're staying at your station. Security will handle the investigation."
"But I found it—"
"Which is exactly why you're staying here. If this is sabotage, whoever's responsible knows their work was discovered. They might try to cover their tracks or cause additional problems. I need you monitoring in case they make another move."
Dana's expression suggested she wanted to argue, but she nodded instead. "Okay. I'll watch for pattern changes."
Vaxon arrived within minutes, his massive frame somehow moving silently despite his size. He reviewed Dana's data with the focused intensity of someone trained to find threats, his cobalt-blue eyes tracking every detail.
"This is sophisticated," he said finally. "The bleed is distributed across multiple nodes to avoid triggering alerts. Whoever did this understands our power systems intimately."
"Inside job?" I asked, not wanting to believe it but knowing it was possible.
"Possibly. Or someone with detailed technical schematics who gained access somehow." Vaxon pulled up Mothership's internal security logs. "I'll need to trace the physical connection point. Dana, can you narrow down where the bleed originates?"
She was already working on it, her fingers flying across the interface. "Give me a few minutes. The distribution network is complex, but I can follow the variance pattern backward to find the source node."
We watched her work, and I found myself impressed again by her methodology. She approached the problem like unraveling a knot, patient, systematic, following each thread until the pattern revealed itself.
"There," she said finally, highlighting a section of the network schematic. "Source node is in subsection twelve, junction forty-seven. Where is that physically?"
I pulled up Mothership's deck plans. "Cargo bay three. Rarely accessed area, used primarily for long-term storage."
"Perfect place to hide unauthorized equipment," Vaxon observed. "I'm taking a team to investigate. Er'dox, keep monitoring in case they try to relocate the bleed. Dana, good work."
He left, and I returned to Dana's station. She was still watching the variance patterns, her focus absolute.
"You should be proud," I said. "You caught something most engineers would have missed."
"I got lucky. Right place, right time, right paranoia."
"That's not luck. That's skill and instinct working together." I pulled up her performance metrics. "You've been exceeding expectations since your first shift. This just confirms what I already knew. You belong in Engineering."
Dana looked up at me, and I saw something uncertain in her expression. "You mean that? It's not just you being nice because I'm the displaced alien who needs encouragement?"
"I don't do nice. I do accurate assessment of capability. You're exceptional, Dana. The sooner you accept that, the sooner you'll stop working like you're about to be fired."
"I work hard because the alternative is failing. And failing means—"
"Means what? Extended debt? Demotion? Those are possibilities for any crew member. You're not special in your vulnerability." I softened my tone slightly. "But you are special in your capability. Start recognizing that."
Before she could respond, alarms erupted across Engineering. Multiple systems showing critical variance simultaneously, not just subsection twelve, but six different subsections scattered across Mothership's power network.