Page 8 of Starlight, Starbright
Someone starts clapping. Then someone else. The sound builds until the whole engineering deck erupts in celebration. People shouting, hugging, pounding on consoles. The noise level violates about six different operational protocols, but I don't care. We lived.
By the time I catch my breath and wipe the sweat from my eyes, the bridge doors open.
Captain Zoric enters Engineering.
The celebration dies instantly. My crew freezes mid-celebration, remembering they're supposed to be professionals on duty. Someone coughs. The silence stretches, broken only by a background hum of equipment and the occasional spark from an overloaded panel we've-not-repaired-yet.
He walks through the department like he owns it. Which, technically, he does. His eyes scan the status displays. The shield configuration still showing on my main console. The power routing I improvised. He studies them for what feels like forever but is probably fifteen seconds.
Walsh Burton stands at the secondary console, arms crossed. His expression is hard to read—not celebratory like the rest of the crew, but something else entirely.
Then he turns to face us. Faces me, specifically.
“Chief Engineer Martin.” His voice carries across the deck. “Report.”
Everyone waits for the reprimand. I broke protocol. Made an unauthorized system configuration without formal approval. Risked the engines to save the forward shields. Any one of those violations could end my career.
I straighten. “Shield generator three was compromised during the power fluctuation at 0200 hours. The same fluctuation that disabled our forward sensors. I chose to concentrate our remaining shield capacity forward using generators one and two in a modified deflection configuration. The unconventional geometry reduced impact force by approximately forty percent while maintaining structural integrity at our most vulnerable approach vector.”
He nods once. Steps closer. Looks at the console display showing my power routing diagram.
“This solution required recalibrating the shield emitters to operate outside their standard parameters.” He traces one finger along the display, following the power flow. “You risked overloading both remaining generators.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You also left our engine compartment exposed to potential collision.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you made this decision in approximately forty-five seconds, implemented it in less than thirty, and saved this vessel from catastrophic damage.”
Wait. That's not a reprimand.
He turns to address the entire engineering deck. “Chief Martin's analysis was correct. The navigation failure and shield generator malfunction both correlate with the documented power fluctuations she's been tracking. This was deliberate sabotage timed to maximize casualties. Her quick thinking and innovative solution prevented what would have been a disaster.”
The words hang in the air. Deliberate sabotage. He said it. He believes me.
“Chief Martin.” He looks back at me. “Your improvised shield configuration demonstrated an expert grasp of plasma dynamics and structural load distribution. It was precisely the kind of unorthodox thinking that saves lives. Commendation noted for your personnel file.”
I should say something. Thank him. Acknowledge the commendation. Instead I just stare, processing the fact that he didn't just validate my technical solution. He validated my entire investigation. Every late night tracking fluctuations. Every argument with Burton about whether I was overreacting. Every instinct that told me something was wrong.
He was right. I was right. We were both right.
“Yes, sir.” The words finally come. “Thank you, sir.”
Our eyes meet. Three seconds. Four. I should look away. The rest of the crew is watching. But something in his expression holds my attention. Not just professional respect. Something else, something I can't quite name.
The silver traces along his temples shift to a warmer hue. Deeper than honey. Gold, I think. Definitely gold.
Then he steps back, breaking whatever that moment was. “Continue repairs. I want full diagnostic on all three shield generators within the hour.” He nods once more and leaves, the doors closing behind him.
The celebration erupts again the moment he's gone, but I barely hear it. I keep seeing that flash of gold. The way he lookedat me like he was seeing something new. The commendation. The validation.
Jian appears at my elbow. “That was incredible. I've never heard a captain praise unconventional thinking. Usually they want everything by the book.”
“He's not usual.” The words come out softer than intended.
She gives me a look. A very specific look that makes me want to protest. I'm just talking about command style, nothing else. But she's already turning away, grinning, and I have shield generators to repair.
