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When the door to the cell opens, Una is ready. The baton-wielding aliens barely have the chance to say a word before she’s standing, positioning herself between them and the rest of her team. “I’m the senior officer in command of this landing party,” she says. “You want me.”
“Commander,” La’an protests. She struggles to her feet despite her broken ribs. “Protocol dictates—”
“Stand down, lieutenant,” Una orders sharply. Then she turns back to face her for just a moment, her eyes soft. “It’s going to be okay.”
“But—”
“I’m the one you want,” Una tells the aliens. “Let’s go.”