We move through the base, corridors branching into operational sectors, personnel shifting around us in practiced patterns. I track their reactions as we pass, the way attention lingers, the way conversations dip before resuming.
“They’re going to keep doing that,” she says quietly.
“I know,” I reply.
“You’re not stopping it.”
“I’m not interested in stopping it,” I tell her. “I’m interested in what they do with it.”
She glances at me. “That’s a test.”
“Everything is,” I say.
We enterthe central operations room, and the shift is immediate, conversations cutting off as attention locks onto us.
Good.
Now they’re focused.
“This is where you explain it,” Vihl mutters.
“I already did,” I say.
“Not to them.”
I step forward into the center of the room, letting the silence settle completely before speaking.
“She’s staying,” I say.
The reaction moves through the room in waves.
“She’s not crew,” someone says.
“She doesn’t need to be,” I reply.
“What is she?” another asks.
I don’t hesitate.
“She’s mine,” I say.
The wording is deliberate, not about possession, but about position, and the room shifts again as they process it.
“She’s not armed.”
“She doesn’t need to be,” I repeat.
Vihl exhales quietly beside me. “You’re making a statement.”
“I am the statement,” I reply.
I gesture toward her.
“She has clearance equivalent to mine unless I say otherwise,” I continue. “If she speaks, you listen. If she asks, you answer.”
That pushes them.
Not into defiance.
