The walk to the bridge was a silent one. Khalil led the way, but he kept glancing back at me over his broad shoulders with a small, persistent smile. My own thoughts were a chaotic rhythm, matching the thud of our boots against the metal decking. Each step was a rapid jump from one calculation to the next.
Just how bad is the power situation? I wondered. And how much of this ship is being held together by nothing but grit and Protectorate-era steel?
"The bridge," Khalil announced, coming to a halt. "I'll wait here for you."
I nodded and stepped through the hiss of the pneumatic doors.
At first glance, the bridge was in a standard TPA configuration. It was utilitarian and cramped. But as I walked deeper into the command pit, the upgrades became visible. The Concordat shipyards had done a masterful job, weaving sleek, advanced Concordat tech into the bones of the old human cruiser. It was a Frankenstein's monster of interstellar engineering.
Captain Raymond Malone stood on the raised command platform, his eyes fixed on a hovering tactical display. He waved me over without looking up.
"Ah. Mah'Abeu," he said. "I was wondering how long it would take you to find your way here."
"Ne'ho Tahib, Captain," I said, approaching the platform. "Is now a good time?"
"As good as any," he sighed, finally turning to face me. "I'm sorry I couldn't see you sooner."
"It's fine. It gave me time to interact with the crew." I lowered my voice, stepping closer to him so our conversation wouldn't carry to the pits below. "Captain, I am well aware that you do not approve of me being here. But I want to assure you: I am not here to undermine your authority. Can we try to work together in harmony?"
Malone stared at me, then gave that same defiant nod from the hangar.
"Your nod is enough," I said, offering a diplomatic opening. "Now, I have a different matter to discuss."
Raymond raised an eyebrow. "You look concerned?"
"We have a situation on the ship. A serious power–"
"–Yes," Raymond cut me off, his voice sharpening. "I'm aware of the power issues. We'll have it resolved shortly, once we are berthed in the dry dock."
His rudeness was like a physical wall, but I pushed through it. "It won't be wise to wait that long, Captain. I'm sure your AI has done the calculations."
"Our AI, Tabitha, is in hibernation to conserve power," Raymond countered, but his expression soured. "But yes... I have been doing my own calculations."
"Then you agree? Is it too risky to wait until the exterior repairs are done? If the life support fails or the medbay loses its primary systems–"
Raymond paused, his jaw working. "OK. Fine. I'll instruct Lieutenant Baros to increase the power output."
I blinked, surprised. "Wait– I thought that wasn't an option? Matthias seemed convinced the core would tear itself apart."
"Matthias doesn't have a high tolerance for risk," Raymond said, a faint, weary smile touching his lips. "He made a compelling safety argument for running at seventy-five per cent capacity. You made a better argument for survival." He looked out over his bridge. "Matthias won't like it, but he'll do as he is told."
"I have to be honest," I said, "I didn't expect you to take my advice."
"Mah'Abeu Ezra," Raymond said, his tone turning surprisingly grave, "we might not like each other, but we both are committed to doing what is best for this ship and her crew."
The moment was broken by the arrival of Dr Amaya. She walked toward us with a frown that seemed to be a part of her usual 'resting face' features.
"Captain?" she asked, her eyes darting to me with clear impatience. "Can we talk in private for a moment?"
Raymond looked at me, raising his eyebrows. "Are we done here?"
"Yes."
"Excellent," Raymond said, his professional mask sliding back into place. "Khalil will take you back to your quarters."
I hesitated. "About that... is it really necessary for him to escort me everywhere I go?"
Raymond's eyes turned to steel again. "I'm afraid it is. While you might be here at the behest of Lunar Command, the Tabitha is a UIC cruiser. It is protocol to have non-permanent crew members accompanied by a security officer at all times."
He was telling the truth. He had the authority to break protocol, but he wasn't going to do it for me. At least he didn't repeat the line about me getting lost.
"Very well, Captain. Thank you for your time."
---
The day had been a marathon of misery and technical dead ends. By the time we reached the corridor leading to my quarters, I was so immersed in my own thoughts that I didn't realise Khalil had stopped. I nearly walked right into his back.
"Whoa there," he said, reaching out to steady me. "Are you alright?"
I looked up into his emerald eyes. The usual professional distance was gone, replaced by a look of genuine concern. "Yes... I'm OK. Sorry. I wasn't paying attention."
"Well," Khalil said, leaning against the doorframe of my room. He loitered with a relaxed posture. "So... do you want some company?"
I felt a sudden, sharp spike of interest, but the weight of the day was too heavy. I was interested, and some 'company' was exactly what I needed to clear my head, but I couldn't. Not yet. "I... I can't."
"Oh," Khalil said. He was good at hiding it, but I caught the flicker of disappointment in his gaze. "OK."
"I want to, though," I added quickly, feeling the need to soften the blow. "But not tonight."
"Alright. I understand." He waited for me to palm the lock before pushing himself off the wall. "I'll see you in the morning."
"I'm looking forward to it," I said.
He gave me a final nod and turned to walk away. I watched him go for a moment before stepping into my room.
The air inside was stale, smelling faintly of the ship's recycled atmosphere. I unzipped my uniform jacket, peeling the fabric from my body. I let my clothes fall to my ankles and yawned, heading for the cupboard to find something comfortable to sleep in.
I opened the door and froze.
Something wasn't right.
I am a Mah'Abeu. I am trained to notice the millimetre shift of a chair, the infinitesimal change in the scent of a room. Someone had been here.
My belongings had been shifted. They had tried and actually done a very good job of returning everything exactly as I had left it. A regular crew member would have missed it. But I didn't.
Who? And how did they get past a biometric palm lock?
Fear prickled at the back of my neck. Were they looking for something? Or was this an intimidation tactic? A message to let me know I wasn't safe even behind a locked door?
Then, the cold realisation hit me. The knife.
I rushed to the bed and dropped to my knees, my fingers trembling as I reached for the panel at the base. I tore it away with a violent jerk and thrust my hand into the cavity.
My fingers brushed against cold carbon fibre.
It was still there. Relief flooded through me. I collapsed back onto the steel floor, my chest heaving. The knife was more than a knife. It was the only piece of "Ezra" I had left.
I sat up, the fear cooling into a sharp, focused anger. If someone was snooping, I wasn't going to just sit and wait for them to come back.
I reached into my bag and pulled out a small satchel. From its depths, I retrieved a tiny, circular patch. I peeled back the bottom layer, exposing it to the ultraviolet light of the room. The material began to melt, turning into a thin, shimmering membrane that was invisible to the naked eye.
I applied the patch across the seam of one of the empty cupboards. The slightest disturbance would tear the film, an invisible alarm. Next, I took a recording device, no larger than a smudge of grease, and pressed it against the opposite wall.
It was a simple trap, but effective. If they came back, I would have the intruder's face. From there, I could decide how to handle it.
Satisfied, I finally climbed into bed. But as the lights dimmed and the ship groaned around me, I realised that I would need to win over the crew. I couldn't resolve my mission without them.
---
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