Chapter 5 #3
After lunch, walking back to Operations, Zor'go fell into step beside me. The corridors were less crowded during shift transitions, our footsteps echoing against metal floors that still felt more functional than homey despite six months of adaptation.
"Your friends are protective," he said.
"They've kept me alive this long. They're allowed to be protective." I glanced up at him, so much taller than me that it still made my neck ache sometimes. "Your colleagues are protective too. Er'dox watches me like he's waiting for me to break you."
"Er'dox is overly invested in my personal life."
"Is he wrong to be?"
The question came out before I could stop it, too direct, too revealing. Zor'go's markings flickered rapidly, and his stride faltered for just a moment before he recovered.
"That depends on your definition of personal life," he said carefully.
"The definition that includes whether you have one."
"I have a very full personal life. I work on spatial design projects during my off-hours. I attend cultural events. I maintain social connections with colleagues."
"You work constantly and call it living."
"You do the same."
"I'm human. We're dramatic and inefficient. You're Zandovian. You're supposed to have a better life balance."
"Who told you that?"
"Dana. Who learned it from Er'dox. Who apparently talks constantly once you get him comfortable."
Zor'go's expression did something complicated. "Er'dox has opinions about everything."
"Are his opinions about you accurate?"
"That depends on the opinion."
We'd reached Operations, the massive doors sliding open to reveal the organized chaos of Zor'go's work environment.
Holographic displays floated everywhere, showing the expansion project from every conceivable angle.
His team moved through the space with practiced efficiency, barely glancing up as we entered.
"We should review the support reinforcement calculations," Zor'go said, and the moment of personal conversation evaporated like it had never existed.
"Right. Professional priorities."
"Jalina—"
"It's fine. You're right. We have work to do." I headed for my designated workspace, tried not to feel like I'd lost something I'd never actually had.
The afternoon passed in calculations and adjustments, in the comfortable rhythm we'd developed over three weeks of intensive collaboration.
By 1800 hours, my eyes were crossing and my hands were cramping and I'd filled another seventeen pages of my notebook with sketches that were getting progressively less precise as exhaustion set in.
"That's enough," Zor'go said finally. "We've done sufficient work for today."
"We still need to finalize the plaza dimensions—"
"Tomorrow. After mandated rest." He started shutting down the holographic displays with methodical precision. "Bea's orders. You agreed to comply."
"I agreed conditionally. You have to comply too."
"Then we'll both comply." He finished the shutdown sequence, turned to face me fully. "I'll walk you to your quarters."
"That's not necessary."
"Nevertheless."
That word again. Heavy with meaning I couldn't quite parse.
We left Operations together, the ship's corridors dimmer during evening shift, fewer beings moving through the spaces. The walk to the residential sector felt longer than usual, stretched by awareness and unspoken tension.
"Thank you," I said finally, breaking the silence. "For today. For drawing with charcoal. For eating lunch with actual people instead of holing up in your office."
"You're welcome." He paused. "Thank you for expanding my perspective. For challenging my designs. For making me see spaces differently."
"That's my job."
"No. Your job is to provide human input on human-compatible housing.
What you actually do is force me to reconsider fundamental assumptions about what makes a space worth inhabiting.
" His markings flickered rapidly now, something intense in his ice-blue eyes.
"That's significantly beyond job requirements. "
We'd reached my quarters—the shared space I still occupied with Bea and Elena, despite Dana's departure to live with Er'dox. The door loomed ahead, marking the end of our day, the return to separate lives.
"Goodnight, Zor'go."
"Jalina."
I turned back, found him watching me with an expression I'd never seen before. Open. Vulnerable. Like he wanted to say something but couldn't figure out how.
"What?"
"I—" He stopped. Started again. "The charcoal drawing. I kept it. The one from this morning."
"It was imprecise. Full of technical flaws."
"It was honest." His markings shimmered. "You were right about that."
The moment stretched between us, loaded with everything we weren't saying. I wanted to close the distance, wanted to understand what those rapidly flickering markings meant, and wanted to ask what was happening between us beyond professional collaboration.
Instead, I smiled, small and genuine and entirely too revealing. "Goodnight, Zor'go. Get some actual sleep."
"You as well."
I went inside, leaned against the closed door, and tried to remember how to breathe properly.
"You're in trouble," Elena called from her bunk. "I can hear the catastrophic feelings from here."
"It's professional."
"It's professionally catastrophic. There's a difference."
She wasn't wrong.
My datapad chimed, priority message from Zor'go. I pulled it up, expecting work updates or schedule changes.
Instead: Same time tomorrow. 0600. Bring the charcoal.
I stared at the message, my heart doing complicated things in my chest.
Then a second message: We need to assess the potential expansion site in Cargo Bay Seven. Rarely accessed areas need evaluation. Just the two of us.
Just the two of us. In an empty cargo bay. To assess a potential expansion site.
That was work. That was professional. That was absolutely, completely, totally appropriate.
So why did my pulse kick up like I'd been offered something dangerous?
I sent back a simple confirmation, crawled into my bunk without bothering to change, and stared at the ceiling until exhaustion pulled me under.
And dreamed of crystalline markings flickering in empty spaces, of hands almost touching, of words almost spoken, of the moment before something shifts from professional to personal and there's no going back.
When my alarm screamed at 0530, I woke up with Zor'go's message still glowing on my datapad and the absolute certainty that tomorrow was going to change everything.
I just didn't know how yet.