“I triple-checked the logs,” she says. “It read normal.”

Observation Deck, Gamma Shift

The ship is quiet — that deep hum of systems half asleep. Luke leans on the rail, reviewing the report that shouldn’t exist. A shipment of bio-gel packs—expensive, rare—vented into vacuum because the cargo bay sensors were mis-calibrated. An intern’s oversight, nothing malicious. But the loss will ripple.

The intern, Mara, stands beside him. Early twenties, eyes wide with that particular mix of shame and wanting to disappear.

“I triple-checked the logs,” she says. “It read normal.”

Luke studies her face, not the data. He can feel the two poles tugging: command protocol says document and discipline; his own sense says teach and repair.

He remembers something his old instructor said: “Fairness isn’t in the rulebook, it’s in the pause before you open it.”

He takes that pause.

“You know what happens next?” he asks.

Mara shakes her head.

“Neither do I,” Luke says. “That’s the point. Let’s figure it out.”

He brings her to the lab, shows her how calibration drift hides behind perfect readings, how even precision ages. By morning, she’s rewritten the protocol that failed her. The department logs the loss, but Luke signs the report with both their names — responsibility shared.

Later, when the captain calls for explanation, Luke simply says,

“It was an error of trust, not of intent. We’ve corrected both.”

The fairness here lives in that threshold: not justice, not mercy — balance restored through understanding.

WE&P by: EZorrillaMc&Co.