8. Falkion

"Me?" Zeerah cinches up her skinsuit, covering the parts of her upper chest and collarbone she earlier revealed to me. "What the H-ing H? Who's summoning me to the bridge?"

Only a few people may summon the captain of a dreadnought. "We'll find out."

As we fly through the ship, the world feels bright and new. I stretch my muscles and breathe deeply. All my joints crack. Our rest was only two clegs, but blades don't need much to replenish themselves on assignment, and I feel as if I've slept, finally, for the first time since the Vanadisan takeover. I am aware of my surroundings.

And of Zeerah's nervousness at my side.

There is no real cause for concern, though. I will protect her.

Perhaps there is danger from Kollok. He received a bruising and public reprimand. No one else has the seniority or confidence to dare confront me.

The bridge is somber, almost funerary. All my officers are here, even the ones who are supposed to be on their resting shifts. How unusual. Usually, the only time everyone is assembled is during an emergency.

Or when changing over to a new captain…

High Commander Drin, my mentor and patron, the man who has life-and-death control over me and my career, glares down from my main screen.

My hackles rise, my fingers flex, and the blades move in my sheaths.

Yes. I understand.

I stride forward to face him head-on.

Falkion releases my hand and steps in front of me. "High Commander Drin."

A growl tints the underside of his voice.

The older Arrisan snarls from the main viewscreen. "Falkion, what's this about you personally babysitting a human?"

"I have no idea, High Commander."

Drin stares at Falkion.

Falkion sets his feet and glares right back.

And I'm the obvious problem hanging out behind him.

Nerves squinch like live wires in my belly, tangling and zapping.

I knew my constant presence would be a problem for him someday.

He will be degraded by your presence.

It's happening right now.

"Is there a problem?" Falkion asks finally.

Kollok clears his throat. "Captain, I've tried to tell you. Your health checks have failed for goras."

"I still give orders."

"Don't be ridiculous," Drin spits. "If your readouts are to be believed, you shouldn't be commanding a children's toy, much less my dreadnought. And perhaps failing health explains why, when the critical moment came, you hesitated."

The bridge goes silent.

Oh, no.

I never thought when I woke him from his false-alarm trance that it would be used against him. Now, they see him asking for confirmation as a sign of weakness.

Falkion lowers his chin and glowers. "I didn't hesitate."

"You were ruled by fear."

"I don't fear facing the Harsi. I see them in my dreams."

"You didn't go to your assigned position! You didn't act as a captain is supposed to act."

"I acted as a man who's already faced ‘them' once in battle. And I reacted to the whole battlefield, including the information that the threat was already eliminated. I got clarification."

Drin narrows his eyes. "You have an answer for everything."

"Because my health is fine." Falkion places his palm on the scanner.

His health statistics appear on the screen. Past scans have areas marked in sickly green. These new readings glow a healthy red.

"Huh." Drin grunts. "So it is."

Kollok frowns. "Why is this scan different?"

Why?

Hmm.

Sometimes, Falkion goes too quiet when he's with me. I thought he was concentrating. Was he actually sleeping?

What a mess.

Falkion smirks. "If that's everything, High Commander, this conversation is over."

"No, it's not," Drin snaps. "You obeyed a lesser over your own training."

"The word of the empress—"

"The empress!" Drin scoffs. "What is that? Madness. She won't silence me—"

He abruptly is silenced as all our screens go dark.

The emperor's symbol flashes. An instant later, Empress Allie appears.

It's still weird to see her sitting on an Arrisan throne, but she's looking feisty, like she eats a breakfast of razor blades and firecrackers.

Her hair, which used to be contained in locs, is unleashed and floats around her head like a proud African halo. Today she wears a Chinese-style blouse with a Nigerian black-and-brown-triangle-pattern fabric, a fusion of two of the dominant nations of Humana, and a puffy red skirt.

The vivid red thorn tattoo that tangles from the collar of her neck and upper arm is all Arrisan, though.

"Hello, there. I seem to be interrupting." Empress Allie rests her chin on her hand. Her image repeats on all the bridge screens. "Get High Commander Drin back."

Falkion's communication officer lifts a finger. "We can't."

Allie sighs. "Obviously, I wasn't talking to you."

Her palace staff move efficiently around her.

One of our viewscreens changes back to show a furious High Commander Drin.

"Empress," he grinds out. "You've learned to use our communication technology. Finally."

She ignores that. "You plan to demote Captain Falkion, one of my honored saviors of the empire, and one of the few captains who actually used his brain. Explain."

Drin's jaw works. "As a high commander, reassigning the captain I sponsored is my prerogative, not the role of the Palace."

"Normally, I would agree. It's just that you stated your reason is ‘too much attention to a useless human lesser.'" She reads the reason off a data tablet, then lowers it and eyes him like this whole thing is idiotic. "I have a personal interest in useless human lessers, being one myself. So, what would you describe as ‘too much attention'?"

The bridge is utterly silent.

Drin looks like he's plotting how to murder Allie in her sleep, except for the whole problem of how she's in the highest position in the empire, and her husband is the literal emperor and also a blade.

She looks beyond the Arrisans to me. "Captain Zeerah?"

I jolt. "Uh, yes?"

"Do you feel you're receiving too much attention from the captain?"

Oh, H.

Yes, yes. A hundred times yes.

I wave my hand like I'm going to pull the answer out of the ether. "Not…really?"

Falkion's silver eyes blaze.

"You are!" Kollok gestures at me with a fraction of the violence I'm guessing he'd like to take out on my person. "He's always with you. Even to the detriment of his health!"

"Well, that won't happen again." I cross my arms. "Look at his scan. He's back to normal, so it's fine."

"You have no business being on the bridge, and yet you're always here."

"Trust me, that wasn't my idea—"

"Your oh-so-important ‘repairs' were barely adequate. The engineer pointed out all your flaws."

"I said—"

"Humans like you—"

"Enough," Allie cuts in. "Is that what this is about? Humans going where they ‘don't belong' and doing things ‘they shouldn't'?"

Kollok stiffens and doesn't answer.

Empress Allie leans back. Her dark red skirt splays across her throne like a pool of blood. "Maybe I have a solution. Ever since half the fleet lost its mind due to yet another false alarm, Ranse and I have been discussing a new officer position. One that can only be held by a non-Arrisan."

"You can't create a new position," High Commander Drin growls. "Only the High Command can do that!"

"I know. And I also know your opinion on non-Arrisans, so I've been talking to all the other high commanders behind your back."

His eyes widen. "You dare to mock me?"

"Of course not." Empress Allie regards him unblinking. "If I wanted to mock you, I'd ask how it feels to be the oldest and most experienced commander and yet never once be selected to any important committees or positions within the High Command."

His lips curl back from his teeth.

"But I won't do that," she continues archly. "Because I'm above such petty posturing."

He asks through clenched teeth, "What is your new position?"

"Rationality officer. Her job is to review the evidence before you act."

"Useless. Like all your lesser ideas."

"It's because of us ‘useless human lessers' that this dreadnought is still in one piece. It's why we still have an emperor and an empire." She smiles without mirth. "I'm the reason you're all still alive to argue with me. And if you want to know what's pointless, take a look at yourself."

He looks like he's going to explode.

Empress Allie dismisses him. "Captain Zeerah, congratulations, you're the empire's first rationality officer. Choose a spot on the bridge and start thinking about your first orders." Her gaze hardens. "And how we're going to enforce your authority."

Zeerah looks unwell. "Ah, hold on a click. You want me to issue orders? Here?"

"On Captain Falkion's dreadnought, yes."

"Er…"

This is perfect.

If Zeerah is a ceremonial figurehead with no duty other than to appease the Palace, then I have the excuse she demands to keep her with me, on the bridge and everywhere, always.

"Enforcement will be no problem," I promise.

Empress Allie lifts a brow. "I'm very pleased to hear that, Captain Falkion, as the person I expect Zeerah to have the most conflict with is you."

"Oh?"

"When it comes to the Harsi, Arrisans aren't rational. And blades? Doubly so."

"I have demonstrated that I will accept new orders when confronted with a false threat."

"How will you know it's false?" She lifts both royal brows. "You won't know until after. Will you?"

"Ah. Then you…" Electrifying heat tingles up my arms from my blade shafts and radiates outward. "You want Zeerah to issue orders on when or how my dreadnought faces the Harsi?"

Empress Allie holds my gaze as she slowly nods.

"Oh." Zeerah's shoulders go down. "Is that all? That doesn't seem—"

"Never!" Kollok shouts, and my other officers violently chime in.

But they're drowned out by the roar of High Commander Drin. "I would shred my entire fleet before I let a human lesser tell me how to handle the Harsi."

Empress Allie turns on him like a sand viper. "That's exactly what I'm afraid of."

"You can't do this!"

"It's already done."

"You can't—"

"Check with the other high commanders, since my word as ruler of the empire doesn't convince you, High Commander."

"Lessers have no authority." High Commander Drin is shaking. "You can't handle a real threat."

"Is that so?"

"When the Harsi return, and they will return, you useless lessers will freeze and hide while we Arrisans will rise up, strong, to face them. The Harsi will destroy you. But we Arrisans will fight back, and you will see why we rule the empire."

Yes. We will fight.

His words drive flaming spikes into my spine.

I straighten, proud, ready.

My bridge officers drop their shoulders and stick their chests out. Proud of our heritage, our determination, and our drive.

Ignoring High Commander Drin's needless insults, he's right.

When the Harsi attack, Arrisans will fight.

Empress Allie licks her lips. "No Harsi has been seen in a thousand years. The only supposed sightings have turned out to be frauds. They've psychologically paralyzed you more than once. And then it took one of my humans to snap you out of it."

"The Harsi will return."

"We'll revisit this assignment when they do."

"You won't last another Standard Year." High Commander Drin glares at her. "Once everyone sees how you're trying to weaken us, they'll turn on you. Every change you've made will be reverted back, every mistake you've perpetuated will be corrected. Lessers will take their proper place at the bottom of the empire. You and your mate-blind husband will be crushed."

"I don't suppose you'd like to challenge us openly?" She lowers her chin and looks at Drin with dark invitation. "We're waiting."

He growls and terminates the connection.

Empress Allie cocks her brow at us. "Good luck, Captain Zeerah."

The screens go black.

"H." Zeerah hugs her elbows. "Thanks."

Her worry sparks a new feeling in my chest. "What do you fear?"

"Honestly? Getting murdered in my sleep, stabbed in the face, or, you know, violence."

"Then you don't need luck." I touch her arm. "You have my blades."

She focuses on me. Her smile flickers, rough and sweet, and then she loosens up, choosing to believe me. "Okay."

Across the bridge, my communications officer lifts a finger. She's pale with shock. "Captain, the new orders have come through."

"Put them on the big screen."

Together, we read the position the empress has created and successfully pushed through the High Command without Drin.

Zeerah's shoulders descend, her breathing evens, and she drops her arms loosely to her sides. "Okay, then."

But my officers wind tighter and tighter.

And I, too, have to brace against my own instincts to refuse, to thrash, to scream.

"Contingent rank?" Kollok finally says, giving voice to what I'm sure the rest of the bridge is thinking. "What in the seven suns is a contingent rank?"

"It means I've got no H-ing responsibilities for most of the time," Zeerah says cheerfully.

"She's barely a restocking officer," he rants, ignoring her. "Barely responsible for the tiniest supply closet on our bridge. But we're supposed to treat her like she's above the captain?"

My other officers shake their heads, muttering.

"She doesn't know the first thing about operating a dreadnought," Kollok continues. "She's not even certified to fly the Harvester she wrecked."

Zeerah retreats a step and balls her fist. "I didn't wreck my ship. I fixed it. And if you'd let me leave a few clegs ago, neither of us would be here right now."

Kollok turns on her. "I will never take orders from you."

"You won't have to. Allie's fixed everything. There will be no more false alarms. I'll never have to give any orders."

Kollok and the others stare.

She edges to one side. "And what are the odds the H-aliens are going to show up now?"

Yes, the other races often think as she does, and that's why we, the Arrisans, are tasked with saving them. We are vigilant so they can live their lives. How can a human who doesn't take the threat seriously be in charge?

The answer is clear. I must make her share our vigilance.

"This is the indicator light of our bridge." I show her the panel on the dreadnought, the same one that's on every Arrisan ship across the empire. "Our assigned position is listed in the operations manuals. You will memorize it."

She touches the small panel with a frown.

The other crew members mutter their dissent to Kollok.

"Captain…" My navigation officer, Werrin, approaches. "How's this supposed to work?"

"Her station will go here." I outline the panels nearest the Harsi warning light. "Contact engineering."

"No, I mean…" Werrin bites his lip and lowers his voice. "Kollok's right. Who's going to take orders from a human?"

That is the crux of the matter.

In the intersection between our worlds, I stand here, on my own bridge, torn between the rules I have always followed and the new order.

Behind me are Kollok, High Commander Drin, and all the other Arrisans who have put me in this position and made me captain. It is a known, violent, but ultimately navigable space.

Before me is the empress and Zeerah and a version of the empire I can't fathom. I'm the one who must connect these two worlds. What I do now determines how we, as a race, go forward.

"You will take orders from me," I tell my officers.

This is how it's always been done. Everyone subtly relaxes.

But then my next words erase their certainty. "And I will take orders from Zeerah."