I look directly at him.
“Let it.”
“What about the shuttle?” another asks.
“I’m handling it.”
That lands.
“You personally?” the tactical officer asks.
“Yes.”
Silence follows.
“You’re splitting command,” someone says.
“I’m delegating it,” I correct.
“To who?” they press.
I don’t look at him.
“Vihl has operational control.”
Vihl exhales once, sharp.
“You trust me that much?” he mutters.
“I trust you enough,” I reply.
He straightens slightly.
“Alright,” he says. “Then we do this right.”
“We do this clean,” I correct.
He glances at me.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “That too.”
I turn toward the exit again.
“Tyrok,” Vihl calls.
I stop and look back.
“If this goes wrong,” he says, his voice lower now, more personal, “there’s no coming back from it.”
“I know.”
“And you’re still doing it.”
“Yes.”
He studies me, then nods once.
“Then bring her back.”
