“Let me go, Admiral.” Panem said simply, hand extended, eyes full of anxiety and fear restrained tight under a thin layer of wet resolve. “Take off the suit and let me go.” He swallowed, hesitated. “Please.”

Standing in the corridor, sweat slick more from her own sense of fear and anxiety than from heat and running, Faith almost wanted to oblige him, almost felt inclined to take off the suit and stand back, another helpless spectator on the sidelines. It would be Panem instead who would save the ship, who wold crawl into the lair of El Diablo and work directly with the core controls, carefully aligning everything by hand, delicately returning every phase pattern in the core to its proper position in N-th dimensional space. How would be a hero– but this wasn’t about glory, wasn’t about esteem or reputation. It was about duty, importance and potential. It was about what the ship needed, and in Faith’s mind, the life of a young technician like Panem was something you risked only after you ran out of Admirals and Captains.

“I can’t do that.” She stared at him levelly, watched him. “I won’t do it. There isn’t time.”

“Please, Admiral.” Panem tried again. “I can do this.”

“I have no doubt about that.” Faith managed a smile, something soft and comforting even through the smeared remains of Rosendo that clung to the faceplate of her suit. “You’re a smart young man, Panem. I’d hate to see your life cut short by a burst of radiation from the core.”

Panem looked down, eyes at his feet. “But... You outrank me. You’re more valuable.”

“I may outrank you.” Faith said, gaze never leaving his face, his evasive eyes. “But never think for a moment that any Admiral is more valuable than you.” She smiled again as he looked up, made eye contact for the barest moment. “That’s an order, Lieutenant.”

“Ma’am.” He tried to sound decisive, strong, but the emphasis was gone from his voice, the sense of meaning, of purpose, just an echo of the dead.

“Now get back to reactor operations where it’s safe.” She reached out, patted his shoulder with one thick-gloved hand. “Take Lazar with you, tell him to raise operations as soon as the network comes back online.” Another smile creased its way across her face as she pulled back a pace, caught Panem’s eyes for the barest instant before he looked away again.

The young technician nodded silently, then thrusting his hands into the pockets of his coveralls, stalked reluctantly away, eyes locked on the steel grated floor. Faith watched him for half a moment as he moved, then turned her full attention back to the bulkhead door that marked the entrance to the core, her mind lost for a moment on the conspicuous and almost disconcerting absence of “El Tio” in the alcoves there. Shrugging it off quickly as superstition and hoping silently that it wasn’t an ill omen, Faith stepped forward, forced herself to take another step, to move, to do what she had come all this way to do.

“Oh, Admiral?” Panem’s voice caught her ear again and she turned, tried not to pivot too quickly, to show her relief at the moment’s distraction, however brief it would be. Ten paces away, Panem stood with something in his hand, something small, and as he closed the distance, he handed it to her, offered it with all the tentative hesitation of a school boy with a ring. “Here.”

“What’s this?” She almost whispered, taking the object gently between her suited fingers, turning it over gently in her hand. Smooth gold broken by the tiny marks of platinum lettering glinted back at her, beautiful even in the hellish light.

“A military badge” She turned it over once more, eyes following the writing. Galactic Naval Division Distinguished Flying Cross - - K. Panem. “Where did you get this?” She looked up, eyes meeting his in the pause.

“It was my grandfather’s.” He swallowed, gestured loosely. “For luck. It’s always kept me safe.”

Faith opened her mouth, let her eyes drift back to the medal before she glanced back, smiling against the worry, the concern like a wet gloss over the young Lieutenant’s brave eyes, offering the best reassurance she could.

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” She opened one of the frontal pockets on the suit and tucked the badge into it. “I’ll bring it back, I promise.”

“I know.” Panem offered his own smile in return, half turning to start again toward the stairs. “Take care, Admiral. See you on the other side of all this.”

“You too, Panem.” Faith’s smile softened, spread.

“Yousseff.” Panem said. “Call me Yousseff.”

“I will.” Faith nodded. “Thank you, Yousseff.”