Written to the glory of God, and dedicated to all who struggle through trying times and encourage each other to keep going.

Chapter 1: Orders

“Very good, everybody. Dismissed.” The small conference room briefly bustles with officers stuffing papers into manila folders before standing to leave. A particularly young crewman sliding papers into a bulging folder hurries to get his things together. The commander who dismissed the group turns in his chair at the youth and states in a gentle yet firm tone, “Stand fast a moment, lieutenant.”

“Sir.” The teen lieutenant’s clipped statement is neither an argument nor a question for why he was being kept, just a statement of confirmation, though the commander knows the boy well enough to know that both of the preceding are present though unspoken.

Commander Ignatio turns around and looks at the meeting room screen, still flickering through a sequence of aerial shots and a spiderweb personnel and events chart. “Lieutenant, that was an excellent report. The captain has been quite impressed by your level of thoroughness.” Ignatio allows a small smile to briefly touch his lips. “And everything has been spot-on. She’s starting to think you have clairvoyance.”

“Sir, I just state what the information points to, sir.” The intelligence officer, a teen with rings around his eyes, brushes back at his short, brown bangs, a matter of nervous habit since they aren’t long enough to reach his eyebrows.

Ignatio allows another smile as he looks back at the young analyst, this time it stays. His blue eyes twinkle faintly and he states with a friendly, joking tone, “And still so modest.”

The boy squirms visibly. “If that is all, sir, I request permission to report to the inter—”

“Belay that trip, lieutenant.” Ignatio holds up his hand to stop the young officer, and he lets out a strained exhale. Sometimes he can feel his blond hair turning white from dealing with the obstinate youth. “You’re an invaluable asset and the best analyst I’ve seen. I don’t want you burning yourself out.”

The young officer squares his shoulders. “Sir, if I am going to complete the report on the Lazarus Wheel, I—”

“We have a number of personnel working on that already, lieutenant.” He sighs and brushes his fingertips against his forehead, then looks back up, a different light in his eyes, the strong and stern features of his German Aryan descent softened. “Cadmus, we’ve been working together for a long time now. You’re like a son to me, and I don’t want to see anything bad happen to you. You work yourself to the bone, you hardly sleep, I’m worried about your personal health. Tomorrow, as much as possible, I want you to do nothing more than sleep. The day after that, I want you to remain primarily in your quarters to rest and relax.”

Cadmus looks aghast. “Sir, I must—”

Ignatio’s expression hardens and he tries to pretend that the pleading look on the boy’s face isn’t nearly breaking his resolve. “Rest. And. Relax. That is a direct order. Surely you must have something to do in your quarters, aside from the intelligence you work on in your off hours – which, by the way, you are under orders not to touch until you report for your shift on Monday.”

The young officer opens and closes his mouth a few times before managing to speak. “But, sir!”

Ignatio stands up, gathering his folders without giving a second glance to his subordinate. “No arguments. I know that you’re not very open, and I’ve never asked you to tell me why you’re always working yourself half to death – if you’re ready for me to know, I’m sure you’ll tell me – but I’m going to make sure you don’t go all the way. After I dismiss you, I expect you to get a bite to eat, then report to your quarters and get some sleep. If I see you before Monday, I’ll consider it a violation of orders, understood?”

Cadmus sighs resignedly. “Rest and relax, sir. Yes, sir.”

“Very good. Dismissed.”

The young officer glances at his watch as he gathers his folder and steps out the door. 17:42, Friday.