Chapter 13
Er'dox
One week later…
The interrogation room was designed for beings twice Kim's size, which made her look even smaller sitting in the restraint chair bolted to the deck.
Three security officers maintained positions at strategic points, Vaxon wasn't taking chances after Kim had proven her capability for deception and violence.
I stood beside Captain Tor'van, watching through the observation window as Vaxon conducted preliminary questioning. Kim's responses were measured, calculated, delivered with the precision of someone who'd spent eleven months learning to survive through careful word choice.
"Technical assessment," Tor'van said without looking at me. "How sophisticated is her work?"
"Exceptional. The communication array integration shows advanced understanding of both human and Zandovian systems. The encryption was military-grade, would have been unbreakable without Dana's knowledge of human protocols.
" I pulled up technical analysis on my datapad.
"Kim's been aboard six months. In that time, she gained level-four engineering clearance, falsified access logs across forty-seven restricted areas, and built a covert operation sophisticated enough to nearly succeed. "
"Nearly." Tor'van's cybernetic eye glowed brighter. "Dana's intervention prevented full transmission. Quantify the damage."
"Approximately thirty percent of the transmitted data was legitimate technical specifications.
The rest was corrupted beyond use. Anyone attempting to exploit the information will find contradictory systems data and nonfunctional schematics.
" I paused. "But thirty percent is still concerning.
Enough to provide strategic insight into our power distribution architecture and defensive capabilities. "
"Enough to make Mothership vulnerable if it reaches hostile forces."
"Yes."
Through the window, Kim was explaining her methodology, how she'd salvaged Liberty components from the wreckage of the mining colony, how she'd studied Zandovian technology through observation and theft, how she'd built her credentials piece by piece until Mothership accepted her as a legitimate crew. And how she’d escaped on an explorer ship and had gotten off at a space station nearby.
And how she snuck on board while Mothership stopped for supplies.
"Impressive deception," Tor'van observed. "She maintained the fiction for six months without raising suspicion."
"She's brilliant. Liberty's Chief Engineer, legendary reputation for technical innovation. Under different circumstances, I'd have recruited her for my department immediately."
"And now?"
"Now she's a security threat who assaulted crew members and attempted to transmit classified data." The words felt heavier than they should. "But she's also a survivor who made desperate choices for complicated reasons. Not simple to categorize."
Tor'van was silent for a long moment, his ancient eyes tracking Kim's body language through the observation window. "You're conflicted. Why?"
Because I understood debt. Understood obligation.
Understood owing someone for survival when death seemed certain.
Because Kim's situation wasn't that different from Dana's—both brilliant engineers displaced across impossible distances, both making choices to protect the beings who mattered to them.
The difference was Dana had chosen to work within Mothership's systems. Kim had chosen to work against them.
"She reminds me of someone," I said instead of answering directly.
"The human in your department who caught her."
"Dana would never commit treason."
"No. But she understands loyalty and debt. As do you." Tor'van's cybernetic eye focused on me with uncomfortable intensity. "The question is whether Kim's loyalty to her mining colony contacts outweighs the threat she poses to fifty thousand beings aboard this vessel."
The door opened behind us. Dana entered, looking exhausted despite eight hours of mandated rest. She moved to stand beside me at the observation window, her green eyes immediately focusing on Kim.
"Captain Tor'van specifically requested you sit in on this interrogation," I said quietly. "You understand human psychology and Liberty's organizational structure better than anyone else aboard."
"What do you need from me?"
"Context. Insight. Confirmation that Kim is who she claims to be." Tor'van gestured toward the interrogation room. "And assessment of whether she's telling the truth about her motivations."
Dana studied Kim through the window, her analytical mind working through patterns I couldn't see. "That's definitely Dr. Sarah Kim. I never met her personally, different departments, different shifts, but I attended her technical lectures. Everyone on Liberty knew her reputation."
"Which was?"
"Brilliant, dedicated, uncompromising. She held everyone to impossible standards, including herself.
Drove three different engineering teams to resignation before they reorganized around her management style.
" Dana paused. "But she was fair. Never asked anyone to do something she wouldn't do herself.
And she was loyal to her people—fought administration constantly to get her teams better resources and recognition. "
"Loyal enough to commit treason for them?"
"I don't know. The Kim I knew from lectures wouldn't have betrayed Mothership. But that was before the wormhole, before eleven months of survival trauma. People change when pushed to extremes."
In the interrogation room, Vaxon was asking about the mining colony contacts. Kim's responses were detailed but carefully edited, providing enough information to seem cooperative while protecting specific identities and locations.
"She's still protecting them," Dana observed. "Even knowing she's caught, even facing serious charges. She won't give up information that might endanger the people who saved her."
"Admirable or foolish?" Tor'van asked.
"Both. Usually are, in my experience."
I found myself watching Dana more than Kim. The way her shoulders carried tension she couldn't quite hide. The exhaustion in her eyes despite mandated rest. The complicated emotions flickering across her face as she watched another Liberty survivor face consequences for impossible choices.
"I need to speak with her," Dana said suddenly. "Kim. I need to talk to her directly."
"That's not protocol," Vaxon said through the comm system—monitoring our observation, of course. "She's a security threat. We don't allow unsupervised contact."
"Then supervise it. But Commander, she's been alone for eleven months. She's just learned there are other Liberty survivors aboard. She needs to see another human face that isn't interrogating her." Dana looked at Tor'van. "Five minutes. That's all I need."
Tor'van considered this. "What do you hope to accomplish?"
"I don't know yet. But Kim knows things about Liberty, about our technical systems, about potentially other survivors that could be valuable.
She's not going to share that information with Zandovian interrogators no matter how professional they are.
" Dana's voice was steady. "Let me try. Human to human. Survivor to survivor."
"You're not authorized for interrogation procedures."
"I'm not proposing interrogation. I'm proposing conversation. Captain, I found her operation. I corrupted her transmission. I've earned the right to at least try talking to her before you decide what happens next."
The logic was sound even if the emotional reasoning was complicated. Dana had proven herself repeatedly over the past two weeks. And Kim was more likely to respond to another human than to continued Zandovian questioning.
"Five minutes," Tor'van said finally. "Supervised by Security. Any indication of threat or collusion, and we terminate immediately."
Dana nodded once and headed for the interrogation room entrance.
I followed before conscious thought caught up, earning a raised eyebrow from Tor'van that I chose to ignore.
The interrogation room felt smaller from inside. Kim noticed immediately when Dana entered, her brown eyes tracking movement with calculation that suggested she was still processing options, still looking for advantages.
"Dr. Kim," Dana said, taking the seat across from her. I remained standing near the door with two security officers, close enough to intervene but far enough to provide the illusion of privacy.
"Engineer Dana." Kim's voice carried interest mixed with wariness. "The one who poisoned my transmission. Clever work. I didn't detect the data injection until the stream completed."
"You trained me. Indirectly. I attended your lectures on integrated systems theory aboard Liberty. Applied your principles to corrupting your own operation."
Something that might have been respect flickered across Kim's expression. "Using my own methodology against me. There's poetic justice in that."
"There's necessity in that. What you were doing endangered fifty thousand beings, Dr. Kim. I couldn't let it succeed regardless of your motivation."
"Call me Sarah. We're beyond formal titles now." Kim shifted in her restraints, wincing at what was probably bruised ribs from the security team's aggressive entry. "The others from Liberty. You said they're safe. How many survived?"
"Seventeen including you. Sixteen were rescued from a death planet two weeks ago. Alex Bail was found yesterday in a survival shelter thirty kilometers from his primary position. And you, obviously."
"Seventeen survivors from three hundred crew." Kim's voice went quiet. "So many lost."
"So many found," Dana corrected. "Against impossible odds, seventeen people made it through a cosmic disaster that should have killed us all. That's worth something."
"Is it? We're stranded in a galaxy we've never heard of, separated from Earth by distances that have no meaning, working off debts we didn't ask for. What kind of survival is that?"