Page 32 of Red Scale Daddy
“I didn’t say I’d enjoy it.”
“You will not undermine me.”
“Depends.”
“It does not depend.”
“It depends on whether you’re right.”
I step closer again. “You do not get to decide that in the moment.”
“I always decide that in the moment.”
Silence stretches between us, thick with friction.
Then I say, “If you cannot follow command structure, you cannot come.”
He considers that.
Then, quietly, “I can follow you.”
That lands differently than it should.
I ignore it.
“Final condition,” I say. “You act to preserve life and mission integrity. Not for thrill. Not for personal justification.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“It is not.”
“It is when you’ve got nothing else.”
Something in his voice shifts there, subtle but real.
I choose not to examine it.
“Then you are free to leave,” I say.
He looks around the cockpit again, slower this time, taking in the systems, the structure, the intent behind every design decision.
“What’s her name?” he asks.
“The Lamplight.”
“That’s softer than I expected.”
“It is precise.”
“Sure it is.”
I ignore him again and finalize the crew contract.
“Place your hand here.”
He does.
“Name.”
