Chapter 6
Zor’go
I'd made a catastrophic error.
Not in the expansion calculations, those were flawless. Not in the structural integrity projections or the traffic flow optimizations or the power distribution models. My engineering was perfect.
My personal conduct was a disaster.
I stood alone in my office at 0200, surrounded by holographic blueprints that no longer held my attention, and replayed the moment in the cargo bay for approximately the seventy-third time.
The exact sequence of events: Jalina's fingers touching my arm.
The electric shock of contact through the environmental suit's thin material.
The way my markings had brightened involuntarily, an autonomic response I couldn't control, advertising my attraction to anyone who knew how to read Zandovian physiology.
Her confusion when I'd pulled away. The hurt that flickered across her expressive face before she masked it with professional courtesy.
I'd handled it with all the grace of a cargo freighter attempting atmospheric entry.
For three days now, I'd avoided direct interaction. Sent data messages instead of meeting in person. Delegated project updates to Kex'tar. Buried myself in calculations that didn't require Jalina's spatial visualization skills, even though her absence made every design decision harder.
She'd noticed. Of course she'd noticed. Jalina noticed everything, the small details other beings missed, the emotional undercurrents in spaces, the way light changed the character of a corridor. She read environments the way I read engineering specifications.
Her recent project submissions arrived through official channels now, no longer accompanied by her handwritten notes or quick sketches in the margins. The work was still excellent. Still innovative. Still exactly what the expansion project needed.
But the warmth was gone.
I'd done that. Sabotaged our professional collaboration because I couldn't manage my own inappropriate emotional responses like a competent adult.
My father would be appalled. Architect Zor'lan of the Garmuth'e Spatial Planning Commission had raised me to value control above all else.
Emotions were variables to be managed, not indulged.
Personal desires were irrelevant beside professional obligations.
He'd built a career on that philosophy, earning recognition across three star systems for designs that prioritized pure functionality.
He'd also died alone in his pristine office, surrounded by awards and accolades and not a single being who mourned him as a person rather than an institution.
I pulled up Jalina's latest submission, modifications to the community gathering spaces in Cluster Three.
Her designs transformed my efficient plaza into something alive.
She'd added variable lighting systems that mimicked natural day-night cycles for species that required them.
Incorporated small alcoves at different heights to accommodate beings of various sizes.
Created sight lines that encouraged social interaction while still providing privacy for those who needed solitude.
Every modification made the space more functional. She hadn't sacrificed efficiency for aesthetics. She'd demonstrated that the two weren't mutually exclusive. Those beings actually performed better in environments designed for psychological comfort, not just physical accommodation.
She was brilliant. Intuitive in ways that complemented my analytical approach perfectly. In six weeks of collaboration, she'd taught me more about spatial psychology than four years of advanced study on Garmuth'e.
And I'd responded to her innocent, enthusiastic touch by freezing like a malfunctioning cooling system and retreating behind professional barriers.
Pathetic.
The office door chimed. I didn't turn from the holographic displays. "Not now."
The door opened anyway. Kex'tar's voice carried amusement I didn't appreciate. "You've been here for eighteen hours, Zor'go. Captain Tor'van is concerned you've fused with the holoprojectors."
"Tell the captain I'm managing the expansion project according to schedule."
"I told him you're avoiding your co-designer because you caught feelings and don't know how to process them."
I spun to face him, markings flashing indignation. "You said what?"
Kex'tar leaned against the doorframe, his purple skin rippling with barely contained laughter. "Relax. I told him you were working through complex calculations. But I'm telling you that you're being an idiot."
"My personal relationships aren't your concern."
"They are when they affect Mothership operations.
Jalina submitted three project updates today through official channels instead of meeting with you directly.
That's inefficient communication protocol for a co-lead partnership.
" Kex'tar moved into the office, navigating around the floating blueprints with practiced ease. "What happened?"
"Nothing happened."
"Zor'go. I've known you for six years. You don't avoid competent collaborators. You collect them like Er'dox collects outdated engineering manuals. So either Jalina suddenly became incompetent, which her work suggests is impossible, or something personal is driving your behavior."
I turned back to the holoprojectors, unwilling to let him see my expression. "She touched my arm. In the cargo bay. It was unexpected."
"And you panicked."
"I maintained professional boundaries."
"You fled like a first-year academy student from an oral examination." Kex'tar's tone gentled slightly. "She's human, Zor'go. Humans touch. It's how they communicate, how they build connections. She probably didn't even think about it, just reached out in a moment of enthusiasm."
"I know that." The words came out sharper than intended. "I've studied human behavioral patterns. Read Dana's cultural briefings. I'm aware that physical contact has different significance for humans than Zandovians."
"Then why the retreat?"
Because my markings had brightened. Because my body had responded before my brain engaged, flooding me with sensation I wasn't prepared for.
Because for seventeen seconds in that cargo bay, I'd forgotten about professional obligations and expansion deadlines and my father's voice in my head reminding me that personal feelings were inefficient distractions.
I'd forgotten everything except how perfectly Jalina's small hand fit against my arm. How her eyes lit up when she was excited. How her proximity made me want things I'd never wanted before.
"Because it wasn't innocent for me," I admitted quietly. "She touched my arm as a colleague. I felt it as something more."
Silence behind me. Then Kex'tar moved to stand beside me, studying the holographic city models with false concentration. "You're attracted to her."
"Obviously."
"And you think that's a problem."
"She's my co-designer. My colleague. A human who's been on Mothership for six months, displaced across impossible distances, trying to build a new life in circumstances she never chose. The power dynamic alone makes any romantic consideration inappropriate."
"Does it? She's technically your equal on this project. Captain Tor'van assigned her as co-lead specifically because her expertise complements yours."
"She's five feet tall. I could break her accidentally."
"Er'dox and Dana solved that particular logistical challenge. Seems to work well for them."
I shot him a look that promised retribution. "This is different."
"Because Dana and Er'dox had months to develop their relationship naturally while you've only known Jalina for six weeks? Because their size difference is slightly less dramatic? Or because you're scared?"
The accuracy stung. "I don't do this. Romantic entanglements. Personal connections beyond professional collaboration. I came to Mothership to build something meaningful, not to—"
"Not to what? Experience emotions? Form bonds? Actually live instead of just exist in service to spatial optimization?"
"My work is meaningful."
"Your work is excellent. It's also lonely." Kex'tar gestured at the floating blueprints surrounding us. "You've designed living spaces for fifty thousand beings, Zor'go. But when was the last time you actually lived in one instead of just analyzing its traffic flow patterns?"
Before I could formulate a response, the office comm system activated. Captain Tor'van's voice filled the space with military precision. "All senior staff to the bridge immediately. Priority alert."
Kex'tar and I exchanged glances. Priority alerts meant emergencies. Rescue operations. Potentially combat situations.
We moved.
The bridge was controlled chaos when we arrived. Crew members worked stations with focused intensity, holographic displays showing sensor data and spatial coordinates. Captain Tor'van stood at the center of it all, his scarred face illuminated by tactical projections.
"Report," Kex'tar said, moving to his pilot's station.
"Distress signal, Sector Seven-Five-Nine.
" Captain Tor'van pulled up a holographic map.
"Colony transport Veritaxis, damaged and drifting into the Kasvan Asteroid Field.
Eight hundred beings aboard, multiple species.
They have approximately three hours before the field's gravitational eddies tear them apart. "
I studied the tactical display, my mind already calculating trajectories and rescue protocols. The Kasvan Field was notoriously difficult, dense asteroid clusters with unpredictable orbital patterns. Navigation required real-time spatial analysis to avoid collisions.
"Rescue team assembly?" I asked.
"Standard emergency protocol. Medical, security, engineering." Captain Tor'van's cybernetic eye focused on me. "I need you on this one, Zor'go. The asteroid navigation requires your spatial calculation abilities."
"Understood." I moved to a secondary console, pulling up the field's structural data. "I'll need—"
"Jalina Chauncy reporting as ordered, Captain."