Zoric
The conference room feels smaller than its dimensions suggest.
Eight officers crowd around the table. Commander Tanaka to my right, expression neutral but attentive. Tobias Hale across from her, tablet displaying security logs. Lieutenant Fletcher from navigation. Diana Moss from communications. Giorgi Perrin representing the civilian council.
And Senior Supervisor Burton.
Paige stands at the head of the table, projecting schematics onto the central display. Her uniform shows signs of the past hours. Oil stains on both sleeves. Hair escaping its restraint. Exhaustion evident in the slight tremor of her hands as she manipulates the holographic controls.
“Walsh's plan is to put the ship into hibernation and wait for a human rescue,” she says, her voice steady. “He believes that proves human superiority. That alien command has failed.” She looks at me. “He's wrong.”
She pulls up a different schematic, a complex web of secondary conduits and power relays.
“This is the Starbright grid. Built by four hundred civilians. They installed fiber-optic lines, junction boxes, and power distribution nodes throughout the habitation rings. These people know the pathways. They understand the connections. Walsh sees them as passengers. I see them as a resource.”
“You're proposing we use untrained civilians for emergency engineering repairs.” Fletcher's tone carries skepticism. “That violates numerous safety protocols.”
“I'm proposing we use their existing knowledge of systems they built to bypass the damage,” Paige counters.
“We have twenty critical repair sites. My department has eleven qualified engineers.
We cannot complete the work alone. But with their help, we can create a parallel power grid.
We don't have to surrender. We can save ourselves.”
Walsh leans forward, his face flushed. “Captain, we need to face reality. The integrated systems are failing. We should implement emergency protocols—shut down to minimal life support, put non-essential personnel into hibernation, and beacon the Terran Colonial Authority. Let qualified human engineers handle this instead of risking everyone on experimental alien-human cooperation.”
The vehemence in his tone exceeds professional disagreement. He's not just suggesting a plan; he's promoting an ideology.
“Chief Martin's analysis is sound.” I stand. “We face cascading system failures. Traditional repair timelines are insufficient. We require an unconventional solution.”
“Captain, surely—” Fletcher begins.
“The Chief Engineer has identified personnel with relevant knowledge and proposed a way to minimize risk.” I move around the table to stand beside Paige. “Her unconventional solutions have saved this ship twice in the past week. I trust her assessment.”
My hand finds hers. The gesture is deliberate. Public.
Walsh's face darkens. “Captain, this is absurd. You're letting personal feelings compromise your judgment.”
“My judgment,” I say, maintaining steady eye contact with him, “is that every available hand helps, or everyone dies. Those are our options. Chief Martin's plan maximizes our chance of survival.”
Paige's fingers tighten around mine. My markings blaze gold, brilliant and undeniable, reflecting off the conference room walls.
“We implement Chief Martin's plan immediately,” I continue. “All departments will cooperate fully. Anyone unable to support this directive will be relieved of duty.”
Walsh shoves back from the table. “This is a mistake. You're gambling ten thousand lives on Christmas decorations and civilians who don't understand the systems they're touching.”
“I'm trusting the Chief Engineer's expertise and the community's willingness to save itself.” I look directly at Walsh. “Senior Supervisor Burton, you are relieved of duty effective immediately. Security Chief Hale will escort you from this briefing.”
Walsh's face darkens. “You're making a mistake, Captain. When this fails—”
“Security Chief,” I continue, keeping my voice level, “maintain surveillance on Mr. Burton. He is not to access Engineering systems or communicate with department personnel without authorization. Pending full investigation into the sabotage incidents.”
Tobias nods once. “Understood, sir.”
“This is ridiculous.” Walsh stands, but doesn't resist when Tobias moves to his side. “You're letting personal feelings compromise this entire mission.”
“This briefing is concluded,” I say. “Mr. Burton, you're dismissed.”
Walsh leaves, Tobias close behind. The door seals.
“Well,” Giorgi Perrin says finally. “That was dramatic.”
“That was necessary.” I turn back to the assembled officers. “Chief Martin will brief you on civilian coordination protocols. All departments will provide support. We begin immediately.”
Paige pulls up her training documentation, her hands steadier now, her voice stronger.
She walks the officers through basic repair procedures, safety protocols, communication chains.
I observe her competence. Her passion. She is brilliant, dedicated, and I am tired of pretending my feelings for her are a weakness.
The briefing concludes. Officers disperse. Paige gathers her materials.
“Captain.” Tanaka approaches. Her voice is low. “The crew's noticed. Just so you know.”
“Noted.”
She nods and departs, a hint of a smile on her face.
Paige finishes her data review. Looks up. Finds me watching her. Her mouth curves in that genuine smile that increases my contentment baseline.
“Ready?” she asks.
“To tell ten thousand people we're asking them to fix their own ship?” I offer my hand. “It seems a fitting conclusion.”
She takes it without hesitation.
We walk to the main communications hub. Paige steps in front of the camera first. I stand beside her, our joined hands visible in the frame. A unified front.
“This is Chief Engineer Paige Martin,” she begins.
“Senior Supervisor Burton has been relieved of duty. His plan was to put us to sleep and wait for a rescue that might never come. My plan is to stay awake and save ourselves.” She pauses.
“Your home needs you. Everyone who strung lights, who hung decorations, who made the Starbright project possible.
You know these systems. You built these networks.
We're asking you to help us save this ship.”
The response is immediate. My comm unit activates. Tanaka's voice. “Captain, we're receiving hundreds of volunteer registrations. The response is overwhelming.”
“Acknowledged.” I look at Paige. “It's working.”
“Of course it is.” But her voice wavers. “People want to help. They just needed permission.”
We make our way to Engineering. The main deck transforms as we arrive.
Civilians pouring through the doors, bringing energy, purpose, determination.
Jian moves through the growing crowd, organizing people into teams. Giorgi Perrin directs groups to specific locations.
The chaos resolves into coordinated action.
I stand on the upper observation walkway, watching. Paige remains on the main floor, consulting with team leaders, answering questions. Christmas carols still play through the comm system. People hum along.
This is what she meant about Christmas. The coming together. The refusal to surrender to darkness.
Below, a team successfully repairs a power junction. Cheers erupt. Paige grins, offering congratulations. Then she looks up. Finds me. Our eyes meet across the space. She touches her hand to her chest. Over her heart.
I descend to the main floor, navigating through the working teams until I reach her.
“What's wrong?” I ask, detecting moisture in her eyes.
“Nothing.” She wipes them quickly. “Everything's right. This is what Christmas means. People coming together. They're saving themselves.”
“You did this,” I say quietly. “You gave them the opportunity.”
“We did this.” She corrects. “You supported the plan when everyone else objected. You took my hand. You stood with me.”
“I am with you.” The words require no qualification. “Always.”
Her hand finds mine again. Fingers interlacing naturally. Around us, the work continues. Systems repair themselves through collective effort. Christmas lights remain illuminated. Music plays. People smile.
We're surviving. Not through superior technology or perfect protocols. Through connection. Through choosing each other. Through refusing to surrender to darkness alone.
My markings blaze gold throughout the shift. Everyone can see. Everyone knows. And for the first time in my life, I'm proud of what my biology reveals.