Thor Crushturn.
Every commanding officer in Drakenfell had heard the name, usually in the context of a disciplinary report or a complaint filed by someone who'd made the mistake of standing within earshot.
Halvek's transfer requests alone could fill a filing cabinet.
Dex had never cared. Thor said inappropriate things, got written up, said more inappropriate things, got written up again, and the cycle continued with the reliability of a season.
That changed today.
Thor was already astride Styx, rolling his neck like he was about to walk into a bar fight, not an aerial drill. He spotted Dex watching from the ridge and snapped off a salute so crisp it bordered on parody.
"Commander on deck!"
That was how Thor always greeted Dex. Nothing new. Styx closed his eyes. Not asleep. Choosing peace.
Thor's head turned like a weathervane catching wind.
Serena and Elara had finished their laps.
