Chapter 3 #2
My stomach twisted again, this time with something that felt suspiciously like anticipation underneath the anxiety.
I told myself it was just nervousness about presenting my findings to Mothership's command structure.
Told myself it had nothing to do with seeing him again, with facing those intense cobalt eyes across a conference table, with knowing he'd question every detail of my analysis because that's what he did.
The lie tasted even more bitter than the first one.
I used the intervening hours to shower, change into clean clothes, and obsessively review my presentation until I could recite it backwards.
My fingers drummed against my thigh, nervous habit I'd never managed to break, as I made my way through Mothership's corridors toward the command conference room.
The ship hummed around me, a living city in space.
I'd grown used to it over the past six months, the way the walls vibrated with barely perceptible energy, the play of light across Zandovian architecture, the sheer scale of everything that made humans look like children wandering through a world built for giants.
Dana met me outside the conference room, materializing from a side corridor with the kind of timing that suggested she'd been waiting. Her green eyes swept over me, assessing.
"You look like hell," she observed.
"I didn't sleep."
"Because of the power relay incident or because of whatever you're about to present to command staff?"
I should've known she'd connect the dots. Dana was brilliant at seeing patterns, at understanding how different pieces of information fitted together. It was what made her such a good engineer.
"Both," I admitted. "Also because Vaxon is going to be in there, and I kind of had a complete emotional breakdown in front of him last night, so that's going to be professionally awkward."
Dana's expression shifted to something that looked like sympathy mixed with exasperation. "Elena—"
"I know. I'm a mess. But I have data, Dana. Real data. There are Liberty survivors in the debris field."
That stopped her mid-lecture. Her eyes widened. "You're sure?"
"Active life support on at least three compartments. Distress beacon broadcasting on Section Seven frequencies." I pulled up my datapad, showed her the key findings. "Someone jury-rigged a power distribution system that's been running for months. Someone survived."
"Oh my god." Dana's voice came out hollow. "Who?"
"I don't know yet. But the beacon signature matches protocols Will used to train the emergency response team."
She knew Will. Everyone from Section Seven knew Will, brilliant engineer, terrible comedian, the guy who'd organized weekly poker games and always brought homemade cookies that tasted like cardboard but somehow you couldn't stop eating them.
The guy who'd saved my life.
"Captain Tor'van will authorize the mission," Dana said with certainty. "No question. But Elena—the Dead Zone is dangerous. If the command approves this, they'll send a full tactical team."
"I know. I'm ready for that."
"Are you ready for Vaxon to be in charge of that tactical team?"
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. "I'll deal with it."
"You'll deal with spending potentially weeks in close quarters with the man you have complicated feelings about while searching for survivors who might not be alive anymore?"
"Yes," I said, probably too forcefully. "Because this isn't about my feelings. It's about bringing people home."
Dana studied me for a long moment, then sighed. "Just promise me you'll be careful. With the mission and with him."
"I'm always careful."
"You literally exploded a power relay twelve hours ago."
"That was a calculated risk."
"That went catastrophically wrong."
"The calculations were sound. The relay was just more unstable than my initial assessment suggested."
Dana shook her head, but she was almost smiling. "Come on. Let's go convince command to fly into contested space for your calculated risk."
The conference room was exactly as intimidating as I'd expected.
A long table made of some dark Zandovian material that probably cost more than Liberty's entire electrical budget, surrounded by chairs designed for beings significantly larger than humans.
Floor-to-ceiling viewscreens showed Mothership's current position in space, surrounding star systems, and active mission parameters.
And sitting around that table were the beings who ran this flying city.
Captain Tor'van dominated the head of the table, all nine feet of scarred silver authority.
His cybernetic eye tracked my entrance with mechanical precision.
Er'dox sat to his right, Dana's bonded partner, his bronze features composed but his amber eyes warm when he glanced at Dana.
Zor'go was there too, Jalina's partner, with his crystalline blue markings and that intense spatial intelligence that made him Mothership's Operations lead.
And Vaxon.
He sat across from Er'dox, his charcoal-black skin making the electric-blue tactical markings stand out in sharp relief. Those cobalt eyes found me the moment I entered, held contact for just long enough that my pulse kicked up before he looked deliberately away.
Right. Professional distance. That's what we were doing now.
"Engineer Vasquez," Captain Tor'van's voice filled the space with the kind of authority that made you stand straighter without realizing it. "Your report indicates you've identified potential Liberty survivors."
"Yes, sir." I moved to the presentation display, pulled up my data.
My fingers found the familiar rhythm of the interface, at least here, with technology, I knew what I was doing.
"Six days ago, I detected faint power signatures consistent with Liberty's emergency systems. I've been conducting enhanced scans to verify the source. "
Vaxon's markings flickered. Just once, but I caught it. He'd noticed the timeline. Six days of scanning without reporting. Six days of operating outside official channels.
I pushed forward before he could interrupt.
"Initial readings were inconclusive, but enhanced analysis confirms a cluster of Liberty escape pods at these coordinates.
" The debris field appeared on the main viewscreen, a tangle of metal and ice and broken dreams. "Structural scans indicate heavy damage, but three compartments are maintaining active life support. "
"Enhanced analysis using what sensors?" Vaxon's voice cut through the room like a blade.
There it was. The question I'd been dreading.
I met his eyes across the table. "Long-range array. Full spectrum analysis."
"That array is restricted to senior Operations staff and Security." His tone was carefully neutral, but his markings pulsed with something that might have been anger or might have been concern. With Zandovians, the emotional displays were subtle. "Authorization codes?"
"I accessed the system using... alternative protocols."
"You hacked into restricted sensors." Not a question. A statement.
"I needed better data to confirm the findings. Lives are potentially at stake, Commander."
"And proper authorization procedures exist for exactly this situation. You could have requested official sensor time through appropriate channels."
"Which would've taken days to process. Days those survivors might not have."
The conference room fell silent. Captain Tor'van's cybernetic eye whirred softly as it focused on me, processing implications. Er'dox looked like he wanted to say something but was holding back. Zor'go had gone very still, his crystalline markings barely flickering.
"The Engineer makes a valid point about time sensitivity," Er'dox said finally. "If there are survivors—"
"If there are survivors, they've been there for six months already," Vaxon interrupted. His eyes never left mine. "A few more days wouldn't have made a difference. But unauthorized system access violates security protocols. Protocols that exist to protect this ship and everyone on it."
"I was protecting people too," I shot back. "People who might be dying while we debate proper authorization channels."
"You were breaking regulations. There's a difference."
"Is there? Because from where I'm standing, following every rule perfectly while people die doesn't seem very protective."
His markings pulsed brighter, the blue tactical lines almost glowing. I'd struck a nerve, probably the one connected to his lost unit, to all those people he couldn't save. But I couldn't back down now. Not when Will might be out there. Not when I finally had proof.
"Enough." Captain Tor'van's voice cut through the tension like a plasma cutter through hull plating.
"Vasquez, your methods were inappropriate.
We'll address that separately. For now—" he gestured at the viewscreen, at the debris field hanging in space like a graveyard "—tell me about the survivors. "
I took a breath. Forced myself to focus on the data instead of Vaxon's disapproval radiating across the table like heat from a reactor core.
"Three compartments with active power, indicating functional life support.
Power distribution system shows signs of sophisticated engineering, someone cannibalized non-essential pods to maintain critical systems. There's also a distress beacon broadcasting on frequencies specific to Liberty's Section Seven emergency protocols. "
"Section Seven." Er'dox leaned forward. "That was your section."
"Yes, sir. Which means I know those protocols.
I helped write some of them." I pulled up the beacon analysis.
"The signal pattern matches training protocols developed by Will Peters, one of Section Seven's senior engineers.
If he's alive, if he's the one maintaining these systems, we're talking about someone with the skills to keep people alive for extended periods under catastrophic conditions. "