“Thanks,” I mutter, the word quieter than anything else I’ve said all morning.
He nods once, like it’s nothing.
Like it’s routine.
Because it is.
That’s the problem.
I step back, putting distance between us again, letting my posture snap back into something more rigid, more official.
“Don’t get used to this,” I say.
“Wasn’t planning to.”
“Good.”
Our eyes meet one last time, and there’s something there I don’t have a name for. Not trust. Not exactly.
But not what I’m supposed to feel, either.
I turn and continue down the line.
Behind me, I can feel his gaze linger for a second longer than it should.
—
“Lieutenant Racine.”
The voice cuts through the air like a blade, precise and controlled.
I stop mid-step and turn, spine straightening instinctively as Commander Driscoll approaches.
He moves with purpose, boots striking the ground in even, measured impacts that somehow manage to sound louder than everyone else’s. His uniform is immaculate, not a thread out of place, the insignia at his collar catching the harsh light.
His expression is as rigid as the rest of him.
“Sir,” I say.
“I’ve received another report,” he says, folding his hands behind his back. “It seems you had an… exchange yesterday.”
I keep my face neutral.
“Clarify, sir.”
He studies me for a moment, his gaze sharp but unreadable.
“You threatened to vaporize a Grolgath soldier’s eyes.”
I inhale slowly through my nose, keeping my tone even.
“He was leaning over the fence, sir. Violation of proximity regulations.”
“And your response was to threaten lethal force.”
“My response was to enforce compliance.”
Driscoll’s jaw tightens slightly, though his voice remains level.
