Page 101 of Red Scale Daddy
Her lips move as if she nearly says something else, but the ship saves her from it by slamming a warning across the central display. Exterior movement concentrates along the dorsal port side. Drones are clustering over the weakened plating, exactly where they should not be.
Roma turns back to the console, command returning like armor fastening piece by piece. “They are targeting the damaged quadrant again.”
I move beside her, keeping a more respectful distance this time. “They learned.”
“They are testing structural vulnerability.”
“That is one way to say they found the soft spot.”
“I dislike that phrase.”
“They probably like it.”
She opens the hull map and overlays the drone positions with the repaired vane control. Her hands no longer shake. Her eyes are still too bright, but the panic from the signal has been folded into action. That is good. That is her gift. Hurt her, surprise her, frighten her, and after the first jolt she becomes motion.
I find myself watching not because I expect failure, but because I want to see how she solves it.
That is new.
Roma says, “If I pulse the repaired vane, I can create a localized resonance along the port side.”
“Will it shake them loose?”
“It may also worsen the hinge damage.”
“Of course it may.”
“I can limit amplitude.”
“Can you make it hurt?”
She glances at me. “The drones?”
“Yes.”
“Possibly.”
“I like possibly when it involves enemies.”
“I require external verification. Your display has the better dorsal camera angle.”
I sit back down, hissing a little as the wound along my side reminds me that enthusiasm has a price. “Routing camera.”
“Do not touch anything else.”
“Back to romance already.”
“We were never at romance.”
“No, but we waved at it from a distance.”
Her fingers pause for the smallest instant, then continue. “Dux.”
“Yes?”
“Be useful.”
I smile, but softer this time. “Always.”
