Chapter 3 #3
"You demonstrated qualification this morning.
" Zor'go turned back to his holographic models, apparently considering the matter settled.
"Report at 0600 tomorrow. Bring your notebook and whatever Earth architectural references you have access to.
We'll need comparative studies on human-compatible design standards. "
He was dismissing me. Just like that. Turning my entire life on Mothership upside down and then going back to work as if he hadn't just—
"Why?" The word came out sharper than intended.
Zor'go looked back at me, ice-blue eyes unreadable.
"Because you see what I don't. Because this project requires more than mathematical precision—it requires understanding how beings actually live in the spaces we create.
Because..." He paused, and something flickered across his face too quick to interpret.
"Because you were right. I've been designing storage units.
That's not acceptable when sixteen thousand lives depend on what we build. "
The honesty in his voice was unexpected. Raw. Like the admission cost him something.
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Couldn't find words adequate to the moment.
"0600 tomorrow," Zor'go repeated, already turning back to his work. "Don't be late."
I left his office in a daze, my notebook clutched to my chest like a shield. The corridors of Mothership felt different somehow, not less alien, but less hostile. Like maybe I'd found a place here that was mine, a way to contribute that mattered.
The medical bay was chaos when I arrived. Dr. Senna looked up from a patient chart, her sharp gray-blue eyes taking in my rumpled appearance and charcoal-stained hands with a single glance.
"Jalina. You missed your shift."
"I know. I'm sorry. I was with Zor'go in Operations and we were working on the expansion project and I lost track of time and—"
"Breathe," Dr. Senna said, dry humor in her tone. "Zor'go already sent the transfer documentation. You're relieved of medical duties effective immediately."
She didn't sound upset. If anything, she looked pleased.
"You're not angry?"
"Angry?" Senna's pale eyebrows rose. "You were never suited to medical administration. You're a designer, not a data clerk. I'm relieved you've found where you belong."
Where you belong. The words settled into my chest with unexpected weight.
"But I'll miss your company," Senna continued. "You and Bea were the only ones who appreciated my dark humor about catastrophic injuries."
I laughed, slightly hysterical. "I'll still visit. Promise."
"See that you do. Now go sleep. You look like you've been awake for thirty hours."
I headed to the human quarters—the cramped space I still shared with Bea and Elena since Dana had moved in with Er'dox after their bonding.
The door hissed open to reveal both of them curled up on the sleeping platforms, Bea reading something on a datapad and Elena tinkering with a small device that sparked occasionally.
"You're alive," Elena said without looking up from her work. "Bea bet you'd gotten lost in the ventilation system again."
"I did that one time," I protested.
"Twice," Bea corrected, not lifting her eyes from her reading. "And technically you weren't lost the second time, just accidentally locked in maintenance access."
I collapsed onto my sleeping platform, exhaustion hitting like a physical force.
My hands were still shaking slightly, adrenaline crash from three hours of intense creative work and the terror of being challenged and the impossible reality of being told I was co-lead architect on the most important project on Mothership.
"I got reassigned," I said to the ceiling. "To Operations. Working directly with Zor'go on the expansion project."
Elena's device stopped sparking. Bea lowered her datapad. Both of them stared at me.
"The Zor'go?" Elena asked. "Head of Operations Zor'go? The one who made Rix'el cry last month for submitting 'inadequate traffic flow analyses'?"
"That's, yes. That Zor'go."
"And you're going to work with him?" Bea's tone suggested I'd volunteered for experimental surgery without anesthetic. "Voluntarily?"
"He said I was co-lead architect."
Silence. Then Elena whistled low. "Damn, girl.
You must have impressed the hell out of him.
Zor'go doesn't promote people. He barely tolerates people.
Er'dox says the only reason Zor'go hasn't been thrown out an airlock is because he's brilliant enough that Captain Tor'van overlooks his complete lack of social skills. "
I thought about those three hours in his office.
The way Zor'go had listened to my criticisms without defensiveness, adapted his designs to incorporate my insights, taught me technical specifications with focused patience.
That hadn't felt like someone lacking social skills.
It felt like someone who valued competence over charm.
"He's not that bad," I said.
Both of them exchanged looks.
"Oh no," Elena said. "You like him."
"I don't, it's not, it's purely professional."
"You're blushing."
I was. Heat flooded my face, making my denial completely pointless. "He's eight and a half feet tall and made of crystalline blue markings and sharp angles. I don't like him. I respect his architectural vision."
"That's what Dana said about Er'dox three months before they bonded," Bea observed dryly.
I grabbed a pillow and threw it at her. She caught it without looking up from her datapad.
"I'm going to sleep," I announced. "For at least six hours. And then I'm going to prepare for tomorrow because I have to report at 0600 and pretend I know what I'm doing when I co-lead an expansion project for sixteen thousand beings."
"Good luck with that," Elena said, already back to tinkering with her sparking device. "And Jalina?"
"What?"
She grinned. "Welcome to the land of gainful employment. Try not to let the hot architect work you to death."
I threw another pillow at her, but I was smiling.
Sleep didn't come easily. My mind kept replaying the session in Zor'go's office, his voice explaining technical specifications, his long fingers moving through holographic displays, the way his ice-blue eyes had held mine when he said I'd shown him something he couldn't see alone.
I thought about sixteen thousand beings arriving in four months. Twelve different species, all displaced, all traumatized, all needing shelter that felt like home instead of storage.
The responsibility was crushing. The opportunity was terrifying. And somewhere in the intersection of those two feelings was something that might have been excitement.
I fell asleep with my notebook clutched to my chest, charcoal smudges on my pillow, and dreams full of blueprints that built themselves in impossible configurations while ice-blue eyes watched from the shadows.
When my alarm chimed at 0530, I jolted awake with my heart pounding and the distinct feeling that my entire life had just changed direction.
The shower was sonic, Zandovian technology that cleaned without water. I still wasn't used to it. The vibrations felt wrong against my skin, missing the comfort of actual water, but it was efficient and I didn't have time for comfort.
Clean clothes. My best pair of work pants, the ones without charcoal stains. A shirt that actually fit instead of the too-large Zandovian castoffs I usually wore. My glasses, cleaned, for once. My notebook, filled with sketches and notes and ideas I hoped would be useful.
Bea was already awake when I emerged, studying medical scans on her datapad. She looked up, taking in my appearance with those sharp gray-blue eyes that missed nothing.
"You look terrified," she observed.
"I am terrified."
"Good. Terror means you understand the stakes." She set down her datapad. "But Jalina? You're going to be brilliant at this. I've watched you sketch every inch of Mothership for six months. You see spaces differently than anyone else here. Trust that."
The words settled something anxious in my chest. "Thank you."
"Now go. And try to remember to eat. You forget that when you're focused."
I grabbed a ration pack from our shared food stores and headed toward Operations.
The corridors were nearly empty this early, just a few overnight shift workers heading to quarters, their footsteps echoing in the vast metal spaces.
Mothership felt different in these quiet hours. Less imposing. Almost peaceful.
Zor'go's office door was open when I arrived at exactly 0600. He was already there, standing among his floating holograms, silver-gray skin catching the blue light like he was made of the same material as his blueprints.
He looked up when I entered. No greeting, no small talk.
Just: "We're starting with structural load calculations. Your neighborhood clusters require support modifications to the primary framework. Prepare to learn more about Zandovian engineering than you ever wanted to know."
I set my notebook on the holoprojector table, pulled up the seat he'd modified for human height, and met his ice-blue eyes.
"I'm ready."
And then Zor'go's comm unit chimed, sharp and urgent, the tone that meant priority communication from the bridge.
His markings flickered, a flash of irritation crossing his angular features.
"Zor'go here."
Captain Tor'van's voice came through, clipped and commanding. "Report to the bridge immediately. We've detected an anomaly in Sector Seven, massive energy signature, unknown origin. Bringing all department heads for assessment."
Zor'go's expression went carefully neutral, but his markings shimmered with what I was learning to recognize as concern. "Acknowledged. En route."
The comm clicked off.
He looked at me, something unreadable in his ice-blue eyes. "Your first lesson will have to wait. When dealing with unknown energy signatures, structural calculations become irrelevant if the structure doesn't survive."
And with that cryptic statement, he strode toward the door, leaving me alone among the floating blueprints with the distinct feeling that our collaboration had just become significantly more complicated.