Page 72 of Journey to the Forbidden Zone
Contain the problem.
Norvik didn’t say those words, but they echoed in the sterile air of his suggestion. Put her back in the box. Treat her like the hazardous cargo she is.
The image flashed in Carmen’s mind: Mila, curled in the cold, sterile chamber, the lid closing, locking her away like a dangerous specimen. The calm intelligence in her green eyes replaced by the blankness of suspended animation. The quiet dignity she carried, even in confinement, extinguished.
The relief Carmen had felt moments before curdled into something hot and sour in her gut. It surged upwards, a geyser of pure, defiant rage. She shot up from the command chair, thesudden movement making the deck plates groan in protest. She took a step towards Norvik, her short frame radiating fury that dwarfed his calm presence.
“No.” The word cracked out, sharp as a whip. Final. Absolute.
Norvik didn’t flinch. His expression remained unchanged, a mask of calm analysis.
“Captain, the logic is irrefutable. Containment reduces?—”
“I saidno.” She stabbed a finger towards him. “She’s not a freaking ‘problem’ to be ‘contained’, Norvik. She’s not a leaking coolant line or a faulty sensor array.
“She issentient. She breathes the same air we do. And locking her back in that damned coffin won’t scrub her scent out of the vents. That ship sailed the moment we cracked the seal on her container. The air’s saturated. You breathe it. I breathe it. We’re all swimming in it. Locking her up now is pointless cruelty. And I won’t have it on my ship.”
Silence descended, thick and heavy. The only sounds were the deep-throated growl of the straining jump-drive and the faint rattle of loose fittings.
Sark swiveled slowly in his seat, his brown eyes wide, flicking nervously between Carmen and Norvik. Letitia remained motionless against the bulkhead, her dark eyes fixed on Carmen, a complex mix of worry, frustration, and something else – Maybe a flicker of understanding? – warring in her gaze.
Norvik tilted his head, a fraction of an inch. It was the Collectivist equivalent of a raised eyebrow.
“Pointless cruelty is an emotional assessment, Captain,” he said. “It lacks operational relevance. Containment serves a practical purpose: it physically isolates the source of the bio-contaminant, preventing further direct interaction and potential manipulation. It mitigates risk.”
“Manipulation?” Carmen barked a harsh, humorless laugh. The sound echoed strangely in the bridge. “Is that what youthink this is? That she’s some kind of psychic seductress, pulling our strings?”
She swept her arm out, encompassing the bridge, the ship, the void beyond.
“Look around, Norvik! We’re flying a patched-together wreck towards a fucking automated kill-zone because I made a call.Mycall. Not hers. Mine. Because I decided taking her home was the right thing to do. Not because she made me.”
She took another step closer, invading Norvik’s personal space, forcing him to look slightly down to meet her furious gaze.
“If anyone’s impaired here, it’s me. Blame me. Question my judgment. Fine. But you leave her out of it.”
The words hung, raw and exposed. Carmen felt the heat blazing in her own cheeks, the frantic hammering of her heart. She hadn’t meant to say that last part. To admit her own responsibility so nakedly. To offer herself as the target. But it was out. The truth laid bare on the vibrating deck plates.
Norvik studied her for a long moment. His black eyes were unreadable pools, absorbing her fury, her defiance, her self-flagellation. Finally, he spoke, his voice still calm, but carrying a new, sharper edge.
“Your judgment is the primary variable under scrutiny, Captain. Your emotional investment in the XenX compromises your objectivity. Your refusal to mitigate the known threat she represents, regardless of the efficacy of full atmospheric decontamination, is illogical. It prioritizes sentiment over survival probability.”
He didn’t move, but his presence seemed to solidify, becoming an immovable object against Carmen’s furious charge.
“The crew’s survival is paramount. Sentiment is a luxury we cannot afford. Containment is the rational choice.”
Rational. The word was Norvik’s hammer. Reducing Mila to a variable, her freedom to an illogical sentiment, Carmen’sconviction to dangerous impairment. It was cold. It was clean. It was utterly, terrifyingly persuasive.
Carmen saw it then, reflected in Sark’s wide, fearful eyes: the dawning agreement. The flicker of relief at the thought of locking the source of their turmoil away. She saw it in the tight line of Letitia’s jaw, the way her arms crossed even tighter – not disagreement, but a weary acknowledgment of the brutal practicality. They were scared. They were tired. They wanted the problem gone. Norvik offered a simple, brutal solution.
And Carmen stood against it. Alone.
She straightened her spine, pulling herself up to her full, unimpressive height. She met Norvik’s gaze, not with fury now, but with a granite resolve that felt like the only solid thing left in the shaking ship.
“You listen to me,” she growled. She cast her gaze around the bridge. “All of you! You listen, and you listen well:
“Your ‘primary threat vector’ is the reason we’re still alive. Without her, we’re still stuck back in the void, dying a slow, miserable death. Without her, we’re carved to pieces by a fucking modified Kestrel-class blockade runner.Shecame up with the solutions that saved our asses both times.
“And she could not have done that locked away in a life-support unit!”