Page 90 of Command

He rolled his shoulders, tension aching at the center of his back.

“You do not think me a hypocrite?” Threxin muttered as he and Renza prepared to leave for the command center.

“Oh, you are the biggest hypocrite I know,” Renza laughed, slapping a firm hand on Threxin’s shoulder. “But you are my brother, and I am long since used to your nonsense.”

Threxin shook his head, spikes flicking at the good-natured jab.

“So with these modifications and a single shipment of plasma, you can induce a safe jump in…” Threxin studied the schematics projections atop a glass tabletop in an office off of the command bay.

“Four ship weeks from shipment, if we perform all the upgrades in the meantime,” Stharn, one of his jump drive engineers, said with a touch of pride.

That was considerably better than the one-year timeline Orion Halen had insisted upon earlier, making Threxin wonder if human engineers were so much less advanced than Apthian or whether there was a touch of exaggeration in the timeline. For what? What had Orion Halen been buying himself more time for?

“But that requires arranging a supply shipment for the plasma.”

Threxin rubbed a knuckle into his temple. “I am already arranging a supply shipment… I will add plasma pallets to the list.”

“One more thing,” Stharn said. “We have worked insecret, as you commanded. When we go in to implement the changes…”

“Remove the human engineers from the maintenance rounds. From now on, uhyre are the only ones that go near the jump drive.”

Threxin would not risk interference.

He opted for the largest dock to arrange his shipment—the rear dock, where he had delivered his punishment and where he’d watched Alina perform her cleaning duties. The aged dockmaster was sitting in a stained plastic chair, electronics strewn around him as he hunched over a piece of metal, staring at it with bloodshot eyes.

The old man’s face paled, eyes darting around as Threxin entered his tiny office off the side of the main floor.

“C-Commander,” he stuttered.

“I require you to arrange a resource shipment.”

The man’s eyes widened, head bobbing forward a little in a human gesture of disbelief.

“I’m not in procurement.”

“The resource procurer was nonessential.” The official was not required for day-to-day operations of hisColossaland had been sent to the ship’s common deck many ticks ago. “As the human with control of delivery dock, you will be resource procurer now.”

The man blinked for several ticks, but then he rolled his chair away from the desk, back straightening into something more presentable. Humans really did fare better when put to work. Alina certainly seemed to.

“Of course,” he said, palming his overgrown beard. “I’ll compile a thorough list of everything we’re running low on and put an order in imme?—”

“Plasma pallets. That will be the first priority.”

“Plasma pal… Sir, we synthesize those here.”

“I need more, faster.”

“Why? Plasma fuel is used only for the jump drive, andwe are nowhere near the position to use it…” His eyes widened as he trailed off.

Perhaps Threxin should have picked someone less—he looked at the wiring, chipsets, and other electronic knickknacks gathered around the office—technical. He did not need a human who grew nosy.

“We have synthesized three pallets. I require fifty-seven.” He could practically see the human doing the math in his head.

“And food? And water?” the man pressed.

“Food, water, medication—whatever is most needed for common human ailments. Enough sustenance to increase rations. Fast-germinating seeds. Graywater to germinate them. Plasma pallets. That is all.”

“This will require several shipments, as such things are sourced by different?—"

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