Unless I'm being escorted to the prison cells of Level 10, I rarely visit Level 9. Burnt-out bulbs and leaky pipes line the dark halls. The cold drips off the walls and creeps its way past fatigues and skin and goes straight for the bones.

I am an insignificant bug before Hayomo's wide gray door. It looms like a menacing boot about to tread on the nuisance underneath. I tap the buzzer and hope she wants to talk about anything but the debacle last night.

The door slides open to reveal the petite woman with sand-colored skin and peppered gray hair standing behind her desk. She leans on her balled knuckles, her head down and bangs falling over her eyes.

I snap to a sharp salute.

"At ease, Captain Lorn," she whispers with a hard edge. She doesn't look at me.

Casting a furtive glance around the room, I notice nothing decorates the walls. The whole room stands bare except for her desk and a single tablet on its face.

"I understand you had an encounter with the HHP late last night," she states.

"It was going to happen sooner or later, ma'am."

Hayomo stretches to her full height. Her eyes narrow at me and her lips purse. It's deeper and more distrusting than her normal features.

"I don't like how you're handling this situation."

As desperate as I am to interject, I remain silent.

"You've drawn unnecessary attention to yourself with this fiasco. You were a risk from the start."

Her words are directed at me as opposed to being to me. No reply is necessary.

"What you did was reckless. We realize you have known about your contract for some time and have chosen to ignore it. When we looked into your profile, we predicted you would have made a different decision—a decision that would have been a challenge during this mission, but not impossible."

"General, I'm—"

"We knew of your celebrity status—yours and Captain Freyer's—but by making a spectacle of yourself for the HHP, you've drawn excessive attention that could compromise our security." Her voice dips into a growl. "I don't think I need to tell you that this incident has tarnished your potential as commanding officer of an ARC."

The confusion written on my face must be as plain as any neon sign.

"I take it you haven't finished reading the paperwork," she says, incriminating me immediately.

"I was occupied last night, Ma'am."

She glares at me from beneath her bangs. "The Alien Relocation Carriers—the ARCs—are what we will call the ships transporting the population to the new planet. Lady Almighty, Lorn, you haven't read a single page?"

I'm twisting my fingers behind my back to keep my hands busy as my mind works. I should have read the damn papers.

"It is imperative that you are able to perform duties as required by your position of commanding officer of your designated ARC. Even with you and one partner, it will take the force of many to protect the people. With one officer of your future condition, it's going to be nearly impossib—"

"I beg your pardon ma'am, you must not really understand what I'm capable of," I murur, interrupting her tirade.

With her unimpressed features chiseled in stone-cold marble, she turns her attention away from me.

"We will find your replacement."

My heart stops.

"You are more of a liability than an asset to this operation. I misjudged your capabilities. I'd be jeopardizing the safety of two thousand civilians by leaving you in charge." She leans away from the desk. "If it were up to me, I'd dissmiss you from the operation now. I recommend you do not come tonight."

As a soldier, I have been taught to obey my commanding officers through life-and-death situations. I blindly follow their lead as the rest of my team does. It's not mind-control but fellowship. We work as one. One swift unit led by the head that grasps the whole-picture outcome beyond what we could ever fathom.

But this officer . . . this intruder is not my commanding officer yet. She picked me for a reason out of the hundreds of ready, willing, and capable soldiers. She chose me.

She won't be able to get rid of me that easily.

After a moment of fully-loaded silence, she faces the empty wall. "You are dismissed."

My feet refuse to shift. Even in the chill of the office and the frigid words from Hayomo, I can't let this go. I try to speak—to say something in my defense—to say it wasn't supposed to end this way.

"Leave, Captain. Or would you like to be dragged out of another room?"

As I step into the distorted glow of the main halls of Level 9, her door snaps shut behind me.

Hayomo's words smart as they slap against my battered body, but they won't sway me from going to the meeting tonight. Has she forgotten who she's dealing with?