The commotion inside the bay was deafening. Metallic clanks and echoed shouts and piercing groans and gnashing hisses burrowed deep into my eardrums and rendered me deaf to the natural sounds of the world. The pungent stench of grease and grime kept my nostrils flared with distaste, and my mouth salivated endlessly in response to the unappealing aroma’s potency. I was on high alert of the movements going on around me because any lack of focus could easily result in a crash with another A’li-uud or a tumble over a discarded part. Bodies whizzed past me like they had engines attached, some so quickly they were hardly more than a blur, and through it all, I strode with collected confidence.

Katil was walking by my side, though he was considerably edgier than I was. His eyes continuously darted in all directions to ensure our path was not due to cross with a harried worker, and more than once he reached across me to stop me in my tracks with the expectation we were about to be struck. When the time it was taking us to cross the bay from one side to the other was beginning to become somewhat ridiculous, I came to a halt of my own volition and looked at him sternly.

“You are more of a danger than an asset when you do that, Katil,” I told him. “I have to watch out for you more than anything else around me.”

“I apologize, Wise One,” he said, still flinging eyes across the space. “I am merely concerned for your safety amongst this chaos.”

“This chaos is nothing I have not before experienced. I spent more years as a warrior than anything else, if you remember,” I reminded him. He bowed his head apologetically, and we resumed walking side-by-side in tandem.

He was not wrong in his analysis of the bay—it was indeed chaotic—but I was pleased to see it in such a state. The A’li-uud flying about around me were those assigned to the mission into space to assist the Novai in locating a new home planet, and they all had taken their assignments seriously. I felt that this was the first example of those I led following under my lead with enthusiasm, and it was gratifying to witness.

Once we reached the eastern end, we sat at a chipped wooden table covered in bits and bobs in various states of disrepair. I shoved them aside while Katil placed the item he had been carrying onto the table’s center, a bulbous silver globe featuring fourteen identical square buttons. He pressed one. A lighted image shot out of the globe’s top, and I was looking at a map of the Andromeda galaxy in midair.

“As you well know, we are here,” he said, pointing to the map. “The Novai have already explored this region”—he flattened his hand and made a swirling motion around the offset right side of the galaxy—“but they have not yet reached the larger and more populated side of Andromeda. It is my personal opinion we start here in our very own galaxy rather than venturing out into deep space aimlessly. But, of course, the decision is yours.”

“Why should the decision be mine?” I questioned with a crooked brow. “You were made captain of this crew, not I.”

Katil looked at me with uncertainty. “Of course, but you are Elder, and it seems only fitting you should have authority over the course of our mission.”

“I appreciate your desire to ensure you do not overstep your bounds, Katil,” I said, “but it is important you understand the gravity of your role as captain. I will not be there to offer you approval for the choices you make. Now would be an excellent time to begin demonstrating your capabilities because I would hate to send you into the galaxy with an entire crew of skilled warriors and not the slightest idea of how to manage them.”

“Yes, Wise One, I understand,” he acknowledged. Then, he seated himself at the table with me. “However, may I speak candidly?”

“Certainly.”

He looked around to ensure there were no loitering eavesdroppers. There were none as everyone was too focused on their individual jobs preparing the ships for a long and unpredictable trip, but he leaned in toward me anyway and lowered his voice. “I think it may be best if you captain this mission. I would be more than happy to step down to the role of Commander-in-Chief.”

I stared at him. I could not have been more surprised if he told me he was actually a human wearing A’li-uud skin.

“I do not understand,” I said. “You wish to vacate your captaincy?”

“No, I am honored to be chosen as captain for this mission,” he quickly assured me. “I am merely saying it may be better for everyone if you take that role.”

The holographic galactic map flickered as I lifted my hand to my chin and accidentally jostled the table with my elbow. “Could you explain yourself, please?”

He looked more uncomfortable than I had ever seen him, even counting the occasion when he happened across Octavia and me in the palace courtyard engaging in romantic affections. If I had to take a guess, I would have estimated at that particular moment he was regretting having brought up the topic at all, but it had indeed been brought up, and I now needed an explanation. My primary concern was sending Katil into space with the rest of the crew incapable of properly captaining them, which would not only be an extreme embarrassment for him but a danger to the entire crew.

“Well, you have acted as Captain before, and you have done so in a circumstance involving the Novai. It seems to me you are better equipped to ensure a positive outcome.”

His words were humbled, but I did not believe he was being honest with himself or with me. If his assertion was his only reason, I doubted he would press me so hard to take over his role in the mission. I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Katil,” I said sternly, “you must understand that I cannot in good conscience allow you to captain the Dhal’atian fleet if you cannot at the very least open yourself to the genuine reasons for your concerns.”

He looked at me for a moment, and I could see the thoughts shooting past the backs of his eyes. Finally, he lowered his head and said shamefacedly, “Yes, Wise One.”

“So, what is it that is truly causing you uncertainty?”

With a slow exhale, he confessed, “I am afraid I will fail you. This is the most important task to which I have ever been assigned.”

Suddenly, understanding of his mental plight dawned upon me like the morning sun on a cloudless day. I immediately comprehended not only what he was telling me but why I had grown so fond of Katil during my reign as Elder. He reminded me of myself. He was an extraordinarily dedicated warrior who obeyed every command given to him without question, and he left no room for missteps in his life. Dhal’at was as much a part of who he was as was his stoicism or his light eyes. He accepted only success, and the very notion of failure rocked him to his core.

“The only failure is a lack of trying,” I told him, leaning across the tabletop in earnest and jarring the map. “That is not to say there are no accidents or mistakes. Trouble arises, and sometimes it gets the better of us. What is important, though, more important than anything else, is giving your best effort. As long as you do so, you will not fail me.”

I had not the faintest clue how old Katil was, but he appeared to me then like a nervous youth, and I had become his mentor. Perhaps I had had a misconception about the true purpose of Elders all along. I had always believed an Elder’s power and authority defined him, but this quiet conversation between Katil and me made me feel as if the actual purpose of an Elder was not as grandiose as I had once believed. Perhaps an Elder’s purpose was nothing more than to mentor other willing minds to be the best version of themselves they were able.

“I appreciate that, Wise One,” Katil said. He seemed a hint more confident, if only for the moment. “And I would also like to tell you, in the event something happens and I do not return from the mission, it has been an honor to serve under your rule.”

My chest warmed despite myself. He was the first of the Dhal’atian citizens to say anything so kind to me. I had grown leaps and bounds from my prior state of obsession over the public perception of me, and I was more confident in myself than I had ever been, but hearing those words from my most trusted warrior was akin to receiving an injection straight to the heart of all the validation I ever needed.

“Thank you,” I responded with the utmost genuineness. “I cannot tell you what it means to me to hear so. But I must request you make an amendment to your otherwise touching statement. You will return from the mission. Do you understand?”

He grinned, the first grin I had ever seen from him, and I could not help but return it as he said, “Yes, Wise One.”