Chapter 2
Chapter
Two
Vaxon
I slammed Er'dox against the sparring mat hard enough to hear his breath expel in a controlled grunt.
He rolled, came up defensive, staff raised in that precise engineering way he had, everything calculated, nothing wasted.
We'd been at this for forty minutes, and my shoulders burned with the kind of pain that kept thoughts from spiraling into places they shouldn't go.
Places like watching Elena Vasquez crawl into power conduits at 0200 hours because sleep apparently offended her on some fundamental level.
Er'dox struck high. I blocked, countered low, forced him to retreat three steps before he found his center again. The crack of practice staves echoed off the walls, the only sound besides our breathing and the hum of Mothership's ever-present systems.
"You're distracted," Er'dox observed, circling left. His ice-blue eyes tracked my stance with the same attention he gave structural integrity reports. "Your defense has gaps I could drive a cargo transport through."
"I'm fine."
"You're thinking about the electrical engineer."
I nearly dropped my guard. Er'dox didn't miss it, swept my legs, had me on my back in two seconds flat. His staff stopped an inch from my throat.
"Point proven," he said, offering a hand.
I took it, let him pull me up. My spine protested the impact with the mat, but the discomfort was clarifying. "How long have you known?"
"That you watch her like she's a tactical problem requiring constant surveillance?
Months." Er'dox moved to the weapons rack, selecting a heavier staff.
"That you care about her specifically rather than just as crew?
Since approximately three weeks ago when you personally inspected every piece of safety equipment in the electrical systems bay. Twice."
The observation was accurate enough to be annoying. I'd convinced myself I was being thorough. Professional. Ensuring proper protocols for all engineering staff, not just the one human who treated live electrical current like a personal challenge.
"She's reckless," I said.
"She's brilliant."
"She's going to get herself killed."
Er'dox's expression shifted into something that might have been amusement on anyone less controlled.
"Dana said the same thing about me during the sabotage investigation.
Claimed I worked too much, took unnecessary risks, treated my own wellbeing like an acceptable casualty of engineering excellence. "
"Was she right?"
"Completely." He gestured toward the mat. "Again?"
We squared up. This time I focused properly, kept my mind on the present instead of spiraling through worst-case scenarios involving Elena and electrical systems. Er'dox came at me hard, but I was ready, blocked, deflected, found an opening and exploited it with the kind of precision that came from decades of combat training.
The sparring helped. Movement helped. The controlled violence of practice combat channeled everything I couldn't express into something productive.
"She doesn't sleep," I said during a brief rest interval.
Water tasted metallic, the recycled tang every ship had regardless of filtration quality.
"Doesn't eat in communal dining. Works dangerous assignments during off-hours when support staff is minimal.
It's not brilliant. It's self-destruction. "
"It's grief." Er'dox drank his own water, watching me with that analytical attention. "Every human on Mothership carries it differently. Dana channels hers into work. Jalina into design. Bea into healing others while ignoring herself. Elena…"
"Punishes herself."
"For surviving when others didn't. For taking up resources. For existing." Er'dox set his water aside. "Standard survivor's guilt manifesting through high-risk behavior. Textbook psychology."
I'd read the psychological profiles on all the Liberty survivors after their arrival.
Knew their trauma histories, their coping mechanisms, their probability assessments for successful integration.
Elena's file had been flagged for monitoring, high intelligence combined with low self-worth created problematic behavioral patterns.
But reading reports and watching someone actively trying to die through accumulated risk were different experiences entirely.
"I lost my unit," I said. Didn't talk about it often. Didn't see the point in dwelling on what couldn't be changed. "Seventeen warriors under my command. We were clearing a raider nest, routine operation, except intelligence was wrong. They had twice the firepower we expected."
Er'dox nodded. Knew the story already, everyone in command did. It was why I'd left the military for Mothership security. Why I chose protection over offense.
"I was the tactical lead. My decisions, my responsibility." The words came out flat. Factual. "I got eight out alive. Lost seventeen."
"And you've been trying to save those seventeen ever since." Er'dox's voice held understanding rather than judgment. "By protecting everyone else with the intensity you couldn't maintain for your unit."
"Is that what Dana says?"
"Dana says you treat crew safety like a personal mission.
That you review security protocols compulsively, monitor risk assessments constantly, and personally investigate every potential threat regardless of how minor.
" He paused. "She also says it makes you exceptionally good at your job, even if it's exhausting to watch. "
The assessment was fair. I'd built Mothership's security systems from the ground up, eliminated seventeen percent of preventable accidents through rigorous protocol enforcement, and maintained threat response times that exceeded military standards.
Control what could be controlled. Minimize variables. Keep everyone alive.
Except Elena refused to be controlled.
"She threw wire at me yesterday," I said.
Er'dox's expression flickered toward actual amusement. "Elena?"
"Insulated wire. Small gauge. She claimed I was looming ominously near her workspace and the wire was the most efficient method of communication.
" I'd caught it automatically, found her hazel eyes bright with challenge.
"Then she explained the resistance properties of the wire composition for ten minutes. I think she forgot I was there."
"She does that. Gets absorbed in technical details." Er'dox selected training knives this time, and tossed me a pair. "Zor'go says it's how she processes stress, transforms anxiety into focus on systems she can understand and control."
We moved through knife work drills. Faster than staff work, requiring more precision.
Er'dox was good with engineering translated to combat better than most people assumed.
But I'd been training since childhood, and muscle memory carried me through combinations that would have overwhelmed someone less experienced.
"I don't want to control her," I said between strikes. "I want her to stop trying to kill herself through accumulated negligence."
"Those might be the same thing from her perspective."
The observation hit harder than Er'dox's blade. Elena had snapped at me multiple times about my "overbearing security protocols" and "unnecessary supervision." Called me controlling, overprotective, unable to trust anyone's competence but my own.
Maybe she wasn't entirely wrong.
"I pulled her maintenance schedule," I admitted. Probably shouldn't have. Definitely overstepped my authority. "She's logged 127 hours in the past eight days. That's nineteen percent beyond recommended limits for her role."
"Dana would call that 'dedication.'"
"Dana works with proper support teams and takes mandated rest periods." I blocked Er'dox's strike, countered with a combination that forced him back. "Elena works alone, skips meals, and hasn't filed for a rest cycle in six weeks."
"Have you discussed this with her directly?"
"She tells me she's fine. Then continues the exact same behavioral patterns.
" Frustration bled into my movements, made them sharper.
"She's brilliant with electrical systems in ways I can't begin to understand, but she treats her own wellbeing like an acceptable loss in pursuit of perfect functionality. "
"Sounds familiar."
I shot Er'dox a look. He met it calmly.
"You work sixteen-hour days minimum," he said. "Review every security report personally rather than delegating. Conduct random safety inspections at all hours. When do you rest, Vaxon?"
"When threats are neutralized."
"Which is never. There are always threats." Er'dox disengaged, set his knives aside. "Maybe Elena recognizes a kindred spirit. Someone else who uses work to avoid addressing the things that actually hurt."
The analysis was uncomfortable because it was accurate.
I'd spent six years building Mothership's security into something unbreakable specifically so I wouldn't have time to think about the seventeen warriors I'd failed.
Elena had spent six months rewiring Mothership's electrical systems with the same desperate intensity.
We weren't that different. Except I had protocols, training, command authority. She had brilliance and self-destruction and nobody made her stop.
"You care about her," Er'dox said. Not a question.
I didn't answer immediately. Caring complicated everything. Made objective security assessments difficult. Created vulnerabilities that could be exploited. Made me check power conduit maintenance schedules at 0200 hours when I should have been reviewing tactical reports.
"Her intelligence fascinates me," I said finally. "When she explains her work, she transforms. Becomes animated, expressive, completely absorbed. I've watched her solve problems in minutes that would take engineering teams days. She has instincts for electrical systems that border on precognitive."
"That's professional admiration."