Page 30 of Red Scale Daddy
“That assessment stands.”
He tilts his head slightly, studying the cockpit, the displays, the structure of the space. “You don’t believe that.”
“I do.”
“No,” he says, voice quieter now. “You don’t.”
I step closer, closing the distance deliberately. “Leave.”
“Make me.”
That is not a threat. It is an invitation.
I ignore it.
“You have no respect for command.”
“I have no respect for bad command.”
“You have no evidence mine is flawed.”
“You think it isn’t.”
“I know it isn’t.”
“Same difference.”
I exhale slowly, controlling the rising frustration before it manifests in something inefficient. “You do not value survival.”
“I value the attempt.”
“That disqualifies you.”
“To you.”
“To reality.”
His gaze shifts briefly to the forward viewport before returning to me. “Survival without purpose isn’t much of a victory.”
“That is not your decision to make on my mission.”
“It becomes my decision if I’m on your mission.”
“You are not.”
“Not yet.”
I study him.
Every metric I have tells me this is a mistake. Every calculation flags him as unstable, unpredictable, and incompatible with structured command.
And yet?—
“You need someone capable under pressure,” he says. “You saw that.”
“I saw you create additional variables.”
“I saw you adapt to them.”
