Page 62 of Red Scale Daddy
Then I continue. “Yes.”
“I mean it.”
“I understood the first time.”
“Did you?”
I look at him then. “If this is an attempt to make me emotionally receptive before contradicting me, please proceed to the contradiction and spare us both the warm-up.”
“Fine. This is good work, and it still won’t be enough.”
The cockpit seems to sharpen around that.
Outside, space remains dark and indifferent. Inside, every hum and vibration becomes more distinct, as though the ship herself has decided to listen.
I turn back to the controls. “Incorrect.”
“Concise.”
“Accurate.”
“You built a ship that can take the first punches. I’m impressed. Truly.” Dux gestures toward the canopy, his voice lower now, less teasing. “But the core does not run out of fists.”
“I accounted for progressive environmental escalation.”
“You accounted for known escalation.”
“I accounted for statistically probable unknowns.”
He gives a quiet laugh without humor. “That is a lovely phrase.”
“It is also a real methodology.”
“It is a net with holes in it.”
“All nets have holes. That is how nets function.”
“And what happens when something comes through that you did not imagine?”
“I adapt.”
He leans back, but his eyes stay on me. “You say that faster now.”
“Because the claim has already been demonstrated.”
“Yes,” he says. “Once. Under debris. Twice if I’m generous and count the hauler.”
“I prefer accurate counts.”
“You prefer counts that flatter the thesis.”
I route additional power to forward scanning. “Do not mistake caution for insight.”
“Do not mistake green lights for mercy.”
The words strike harder than they should.
My answer comes sharp. “Mercy is not a navigational principle.”
