Episode 12. A Captain's Promise

I cross the vessel's corridors again, where activity reigns and personnel work without pause.

I stop by my office to retrieve a spare uniform, because the one I am wearing has been stained since my spell in the bunker.

Package under my arm, I immediately head down toward the lower decks. I know that down there, I will be able to freshen up and regain a little strength.

I cross the corridors and living quarters. Straight ahead, a door leads to the showers. With the intensity of the ongoing activity, the place is deserted, or at least, I hope so.

I enter the locker room and look around. No sign of life. Just a few clothes abandoned on a bench.

I rise onto my toes and look through the glass into the shower room.

No luck. Someone is there.

I hesitate for a moment... then to hell with it. I go for it.

I undress and leave my uniform and underwear on the bench. I look for towels, without success. On the other hand, I spot a basket of soap bars.

I grab one, then my gaze catches my reflection in a mirror set into the partition.

I stop.

The woman facing me has my features, but not my calm. Her shoulders are too high, her neck tense. Her eyes seem fixed on something that is not there. I straighten by reflex, a learned posture, military. Then I release. Too quickly.

The cold bites my skin.

I cross my forearms over my chest, instinctively. A simple gesture. Harmless. Contact, pressure, a familiar sensation passing through the body before I can even analyze it. And my mind slips away.

That gesture... I never do it that way. It is Angie's. When she nestles against me without a word. When she seeks my presence before even seeking my gaze. That way she has of making sure I am there, real, alive. A known warmth. A shared rhythm. Something safe.

My breathing changes without me realizing it.

Then everything freezes.

It is no longer my reflection I see in that mirror.

It is a room. Bare. Cold.

A table.

Straps.

A body restrained, delivered despite itself to immobility.

Angie.

Not a scream. Not a movement. Just that posture impossible to forget. And everything I know it implies.

I am there too. Somewhere. Present. Unable to act.

My stomach contracts violently. I look away from the mirror as if it has betrayed me. My hands tremble. I cannot breathe.

I shake my head to chase the image away, to come back here. To the present, to this locker room.

I regain a natural posture and cross into the showers.

I approach the individual I noticed earlier.

I call out to him.

Fortunately, the guy is naturally relaxed. Since I am not used to venturing into this part of the vessel, I could have felt uncomfortable.

From his casual tone, I understand that he has not recognized me and has no idea I am the captain. In any case, he does not seem overly disturbed by a woman walking around here in the nude.

I settle beside him under a showerhead and turn on the faucet.

The water is icy. It gives me a sensation of freshness I truly needed.

Manu disappears into the small locker room. I remain for a moment under the dryer. I kneel to gather my thoughts and think about the crisis we are going through.

Manu opened my eyes.

I need to speak to the crew.

Without delay, I hurry in turn toward the locker room and put on my new uniform.

Back on the bridge, I resume the command I had temporarily handed over to Angie. From my chair, I sweep my gaze across all the stations.

My attention falls on the communications officer. I give her a nod and ask her to open an internal channel throughout the vessel.

Ensign Flores gets to work immediately. The systems respond quickly, and soon my voice echoes throughout the Mercator.

In a firm voice, I transmit the orders received from the general staff. I summarize the situation, lay out the new directives, and insist on the importance of remaining vigilant and ready to act.

I encourage the crew to maintain discipline, show professionalism, and work together.

Before cutting the transmission, I thank them for their commitment and dedication... and remind them how much confidence I have in each of them.