Cassandra stormed into the command deck.

  Crew members glanced her way, conversations faltering. Her movement was too fast, too sharp—reckless in the weightless silence of the bridge.

  She didn’t care. Her mind was a storm.

  This ends now.

  Whatever Tsukihara was, whatever she had become—Cassandra would bring it to light.

  Even if it burned everything else down with it.

  Captain Ward hovered near her command chair, hands clasped behind her back, gaze fixed on the main display. Sensor feeds flickered across the screen—fragmented, degraded, their gaps as telling as the data itself.

  The Sovereign was still flying, but barely.

  Cassandra halted just inside the deck, grabbing a support rail to steady herself. Her pulse was high. She forced it lower with a long, slow breath.

  Ward didn’t look away from the display, but Cassandra felt her focus shift.

  “Lieutenant Holt,” Ward said, evenly. “I assume this isn’t a casual visit.”

  “No, Captain,” Cassandra replied. Her voice was firm. Measured. “I need to speak with you privately. It’s important.”

  Ward studied her for a moment, then gave a slight nod.

  “Very well. Join me in my office.”

  Ward led the way into the adjacent compartment—every movement economical, composed. The door sealed behind them with a quiet hiss.

  The captain’s office mirrored its occupant: spare, ordered, efficient. A viewport overlooked the fractured starlight outside.

  Ward gestured toward one of the fixed chairs bolted to the floor.

  Cassandra seated herself, securing the harness with practiced ease. Her posture was crisp, but the tension in her shoulders betrayed her.

  Ward took the opposite seat and turned toward her, expression neutral, eyes sharp.

  “All right, Lieutenant,” she said. “What’s so urgent?”

  Cassandra didn’t hesitate. “It’s about Ensign Tsukihara.”

  Ward’s brow lifted a fraction, but she said nothing. An invitation to continue.

  “There’s something off about her,” Cassandra began. “I’ve had doubts since her arrival. The EVA confirmed them.”

  She drew a breath.

  “She’s not who—or what—she claims to be.”

  Ward’s expression didn’t shift. But her focus sharpened.

  “Go on.”

  Cassandra leaned forward, bracing herself against the words.

  “Her DNA scan came back... anomalous. Not genetically enhanced. Not biologically modded. Alien, Captain. Completely outside Terran structure. I reran the test myself. Triple verified.”

  Ward’s eyes narrowed.

  “And you’re certain?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Without question. Whatever she is—she’s been hiding it since day one.”

  There was a long pause.

  “And what’s your assessment of the threat?” Ward asked.

  Cassandra’s jaw tightened. “I believe she’s compromised us. She’s embedded herself into Operations. She’s built rapport with critical personnel—including myself. And now we find out she’s been lying about the very foundation of her identity.”

  Ward’s gaze didn’t waver.

  “And her endgame?”

  “I don’t know,” Cassandra admitted. “But I don’t believe this is coincidence. She knew what she was doing when she boarded this ship.”

  Ward leaned back slightly, her fingers drumming once, twice on the chair arm.

  “This is a serious accusation.”

  “I know. But I’m not speculating. I’ve seen the test data. I’ve seen her in action. And after what she did during the EVA—what we all saw—there’s no denying she’s something else.”

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  Ward didn’t speak for a long moment.

  Then, quietly:

  “I trust your instincts, Lieutenant. But we’re walking a razor’s edge. We don’t know what she is. We don’t know how she’ll react if confronted.”

  Cassandra nodded. “Then we move carefully. But we have to move.”

  Ward gave a slow, deliberate nod.

  “I’ll convene a senior staff meeting. Until then—this stays between us. No rumors. No premature action. Am I clear?”

  “Crystal, Captain.”

  “Dismissed.”

  The door unsealed behind her.

  Cassandra launched into the corridor, her motion a little too fast, a little too sharp. Crew drifted past her like ghosts, blurred and weightless.

  She didn’t see them.

  She saw a tail curling behind a girl who didn’t belong.

  A fire that burned brighter than anything the Sovereign had ever carried.

  And a threat that no system protocol had been built to contain.

  “Cassandra.”

  The voice was quiet, but weighted. Enough to make her stop mid-motion.

  She turned, already knowing who it was.

  Ethan Raines hovered just outside his station, hands on a nearby rail. The usual smile was gone, replaced with something harder—focused.

  “What do you want, Raines?” Her voice was clipped, all edge.

  He didn’t flinch. He pushed off the wall with practiced ease, catching a bar near her and closing the distance. “You tell me. What’s going on with Kim?”

  Cassandra narrowed her eyes. “Not now.”

  But Ethan didn’t back off.

  He launched again, intercepting her a few meters down the corridor. His movements were smooth, surgical. Annoyingly so.

  “You think I haven’t noticed you poking around?” he said, voice low and tense. “Talking to the captain, pulling files. You’ve been circling her since day one. What are you doing?”

  She gripped the nearest rail to halt herself. “Drop it, Raines. This doesn’t concern you.”

  “The hell it doesn’t,” he snapped. “She’s part of this crew. My crew. And I’m not going to sit back while you drag her through some personal vendetta.”

  Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You don’t know the first thing about her. None of us do.”

  That gave him pause.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She hesitated.

  Captain’s orders screamed at the back of her mind—keep it contained—but so did the weight of everything she’d seen.

  “She’s not who you think she is,” Cassandra said, each word razor-sharp. “Her record’s a mess. Her behavior is suspicious. And there’s something off about her. She’s not here by chance. And if you think she’s just some plucky ensign who caught your eye, you’re a bigger fool than I thought.”

  Ethan’s eyes darkened. He stared at her.

  Then his expression shifted.

  “Wait,” he said, voice low. “This isn’t about her, is it?”

  She blinked. “Excuse me?”

  He let out a short, incredulous breath. “You’re jealous.”

  Cassandra’s spine straightened.

  “What?”

  “You think I don’t see it?” Ethan said, incredulous. “She told me. You’ve been after her since she got here. Not because of her record. Because you can’t stand that someone else is close to me.”

  Her jaw clenched. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Am I?” His voice rose, just a little. “Because from where I’m standing, it sure looks like you’re tearing her down to feel better about yourself. You don’t like her. Fine. But dragging her through some paranoid conspiracy theory? That’s beneath you.”

  She stiffened. “This isn’t about me. Or you.”

  “Then what is it?” Ethan pressed. “Because everything you’re doing screams personal.”

  “It’s about the ship,” she snapped. “It’s about this crew—and the fact that we have no idea who we’re dealing with. She’s dangerous, Ethan. And you’re too close to see it.”

  He stared at her a moment longer, then shook his head slowly, bitterly.

  “You keep telling yourself that,” he said. “Maybe one day you’ll believe it.”

  Then he shoved off the rail, gliding down the corridor without another word.

  Cassandra stood frozen in the wake of his departure.

  Her breath was too fast. Her hand trembled on the support bar.

  She turned sharply and launched herself toward the central spire.

  Let him think what he wanted.

  He’d see the truth soon enough.

  Cassandra gripped the edge of the hatch and pulled herself into the meeting room, every motion deliberate, controlled. The microgravity made her ascent slow, but the tension in the air was immediate. Heavy before a word was spoken.

  Captain Ward floated near the central display, hands clasped behind her back, her posture a portrait of measured authority. First Officer Hale stood nearby, reviewing a datapad, eyes sharp, unmoved.

  “Lieutenant,” Ward acknowledged.

  “Captain. Commander,” Cassandra replied, nodding as she secured herself into one of the bolted seats along the circular table.

  The others followed.

  Hayes entered next, his broad frame gliding forward with practiced ease. He gave Cassandra a short nod as he anchored across from her, face unreadable.

  Then came Calloway.

  Her movements were slower. Fatigued. The sharp precision she usually carried had dulled, replaced by something quieter. Weariness, maybe. Or reluctance. She gave Cassandra a brief look, unreadable, and fastened into a seat near the edge of the table.

  The hatch sealed behind them with a soft thunk.

  Ward let the silence stretch for one long moment.

  Then she began.

  “Thank you all for coming,” she said, voice even but firm. “I’ve called this meeting to address a matter of critical importance: Ensign Tsukihara.”

  The name landed like a weight.

  Cassandra caught the subtle shift across the room—Calloway’s shoulders stiffening, Hayes leaning in just slightly, his eyes narrowing. Hale remained still, expression unreadable but attentive.

  Ward continued. “Her actions during the EVA were... unconventional. What we’ve learned since has only raised more questions.”

  She turned her attention to Cassandra. “Lieutenant Holt, you’ve conducted a personal review of the situation. Your findings?”

  Cassandra nodded and activated her datapad. The central display came to life, projecting the DNA analysis. Helix spirals, shifting patterns, data streams overlayed with anomaly markers.

  “Tsukihara’s physiology is non-human,” she said, clear and controlled. “While she presents as human externally, her DNA structure is unlike anything in known databases. Genetically, she represents a new species.”

  A ripple of reaction passed around the table.

  Hayes’s brow furrowed. “You’re saying she’s an alien?”

  “I’m saying she’s not one of us,” Cassandra replied. “Her records were fabricated. Her arrival suspicious. Her access to critical systems—unacceptable. She concealed her nature from us from the start. That alone is grounds for containment.”

  Calloway’s voice cut through before the silence could settle.

  “With respect, Lieutenant, you’re leaping to conclusions. Physiology alone doesn’t define intent. We have no indication she’s hostile.”

  Cassandra’s voice stayed level. “She lied. She embedded herself deep in our systems. She volunteered for a mission that could’ve been a vector for sabotage. And you want to talk about intentions?”

  “She saved us,” Calloway said flatly. “She risked her life. You were in the same room when we reviewed the battle footage.”

  “And that just makes it more dangerous,” Cassandra snapped. “Because we don’t know why she did it. Was it self-preservation? A performance? We can’t afford to take it at face value.”

  Hale stepped in then, his tone steady and surgical. “Doctor Calloway. During her initial exam, did you observe anything irregular in her behavior?”

  Calloway’s expression tightened. “She was guarded. But not hostile. Her scans showed nothing unusual at the time.”

  “And since?” Ward asked.

  Calloway exhaled slowly. “Her physiology is extraordinary, yes. But I’ve seen no indication that she intends harm. And I won’t punish her for something she’s yet to do.”

  Cassandra’s voice was cold steel. “So we wait until it’s too late?”

  Ward raised a hand. The argument halted.

  “We’re not here to speculate. We’re here to assess.”

  She turned to Hayes. “Chief. Your threat assessment?”

  Hayes didn’t hesitate.

  “If she’s not human, she’s an unknown. Unknowns are risks. I’d recommend confinement until we can better understand her capabilities—and intentions.”

  Calloway shook her head. “She’s still unconscious. Weak. Isolation now would be medically irresponsible.”

  Ward studied them both for a long moment.

  Her voice was quiet when it came. “Noted.”

  The tension shifted. No release. Just a slow realignment. The room sensed the pivot.

  Ward’s gaze returned to Cassandra. “You’ve done your duty, Lieutenant. But this remains sensitive. I expect you to treat it as such.”

  Cassandra inclined her head. “Yes, Captain.”

  Ward leaned back. “Until further notice, this stays within senior staff. No rumors. No breaches. We contain this quietly.”

  She swept her gaze around the room. “Dismissed.”

  Cassandra unfastened from the seat and drifted back toward the hatch, her mind still brimming with questions, most of them unanswered.

  But one thing was clear now:

  Ensign Tsukihara wasn’t just an anomaly.

  She was a catalyst.

  And the ripple effect had only just begun.