“I usually am,” I reply.
“Yeah,” he mutters. “But this looks different.”
I let out a slow breath.
“It is,” I say.
“What?” he asks.
I don’t answer immediately.
Instead, I turn slightly, my gaze drifting toward the far end of the bridge, toward the corridor beyond it, toward where I know she is without needing to check.
“The shift,” I say finally.
“That’s been happening,” he replies.
“Yes,” I agree. “But now it’s… complete.”
He watches me.
“And you’re alright with that,” he says.
I meet his gaze.
“Yes.”
“That’s new too,” he mutters.
“Yes.”
He studies me for another second, then nods once.
“Good,” he says.
I don’t stay on the bridge much longer.
I don’t need to.
That’s the point.
“Maintain current structure,” I say as I turn toward the exit. “No deviations unless they align with the system.”
“Understood,” Vihl replies.
“And Vihl,” I add, pausing briefly.
He looks up.
“Don’t break it,” I say.
He huffs once, something almost like a laugh.
“Wasn’t planning on it,” he replies.
I nod, then move.
The corridor feels quieter than the bridge, the hum of the ship softer here, the lighting warmer, less functional, more… lived in, and as I walk, I can feel the difference in the space the same way I felt it on the bridge.
