Chapter 3 Paige #2
I should say something. Thank him. Acknowledge the commendation.
Instead I just stare, processing the fact that he didn't just validate my technical solution.
He validated my entire investigation. Every late night tracking fluctuations.
Every argument with Burton about whether I was overreacting.
Every instinct that told me something was wrong.
He was right. I was right. We were both right.
“Yes, sir.” The words finally come. “Thank you, sir.”
Our eyes meet. Three seconds. Four. I should look away. The rest of the crew is watching. But something in his expression holds my attention. Not just professional respect. Something else, something I can't quite name.
The silver traces along his temples shift to a warmer hue. Deeper than honey. Gold, I think. Definitely gold.
Then he steps back, breaking whatever that moment was. “Continue repairs. I want full diagnostic on all three shield generators within the hour.” He nods once more and leaves, the doors closing behind him.
The celebration erupts again the moment he's gone, but I barely hear it. I keep seeing that flash of gold. The way he looked at me like he was seeing something new. The commendation. The validation.
Jian appears at my elbow. “That was incredible. I've never heard a captain praise unconventional thinking. Usually they want everything by the book.”
“He's not usual.” The words come out softer than intended.
She gives me a look. A very specific look that makes me want to protest. I'm just talking about command style, nothing else. But she's already turning away, grinning, and I have shield generators to repair.
Work first. Always work first. Everything else can wait.
Except my mind won't let it wait.
When I finally head to my quarters hours later, exhaustion dragging at every step, the corridors are alive with color.
Civilian volunteers have been busy—more lights strung overhead, garland wrapped around support struts, small ornaments dangling from fixtures.
The decorations glow cheerfully, oblivious to how close we came to dying today.
My quarters feel too quiet after the chaos, but my mind won't stop racing.
I should sleep. The wall chrono shows 0847 hours. I've been awake far too long. My body aches. My eyes burn. But every time I close them, I see that asteroid field. The calculations I ran. The risks I took.
The gold traces on Zoric's temples.
I grab my tablet from the charging station and collapse onto my bunk. If I can't sleep, I might as well be productive. I've been meaning to research Zephyrian biology anyway. Understanding your commanding officer's species is just good sense. Professional. Nothing weird about it.
I search the ship's cultural database for “Zephyrian bioluminescent markings.”
The results are surprisingly detailed. Apparently there was a whole diplomatic incident fifteen years ago when a human ambassador misinterpreted marking colors during treaty negotiations.
Now there are multiple academic papers analyzing the biological and cultural significance of Zephyrian luminescence patterns.
I skim the technical sections. The markings are essentially specialized organs containing photophores.
Similar to deep-sea creatures on Earth, but far more complex.
They're connected to the nervous system and respond to neurochemical changes associated with emotional states.
Evolutionary biologists theorize they developed as a form of social communication before Zephyrians developed spoken language.
Then came the Time of Passion. The papers don't go into detail, but apparently uncontrolled emotional expression nearly destroyed their civilization a thousand years ago.
Now Zephyrian culture emphasizes emotional suppression.
Children are trained from infancy to control their markings.
Visible color changes are considered shameful. Evidence of poor self-discipline.
But the biology doesn't care about culture. The markings still respond to emotion, whether Zephyrians want them to or not.
I scroll down to a section on color interpretation theories. One xenobiologist's analysis suggests possibilities:
Silver-white appears to correlate with neutral states
Blue with intellectual engagement
Amber with heightened alertness or concern
Gold with what the researcher cautiously labels 'positive personal affect'
The researcher notes that Zephyrians refuse to discuss marking meanings, considering such conversations intrusive. These interpretations are based on observational data during diplomatic exchanges, not confirmed by Zephyrian sources.
I stare at that last line. Positive personal affect.
My mind replays the moment in Engineering. The way Zoric looked at me. The way his markings shifted from silver to gold. Just for a few seconds, but unmistakable.
Then I remember the earlier moment. In his office, when I leaned close to view his data analysis. When I commented on his markings. Called them beautiful.
They'd flared gold then too. Brighter. Longer. And his voice had gotten lower when he said it wasn't unwelcome.
Oh.
Oh.
I sit up too fast, the tablet sliding off my lap onto the bunk. This is just information. Data. Understanding the biological responses of another species.
Except it's not just another species. It's Zoric. My captain. Who has just validated my entire investigation, praised my unorthodox thinking, and looked at me like I was something more than just his chief engineer.
Whose markings turn gold when he's around me.
I grab the tablet again, scrolling for more information. Looking for alternative explanations. Maybe gold also indicates professional satisfaction. Or relief after crisis. Or approval of good work.
But the academic papers are very specific. Gold indicates positive emotional response of a personal nature. Affection. Connection. The kind of response Zephyrians spend their entire lives learning to suppress because it's considered a weakness.
He's been fighting it. I've seen him redirect the energy flow, watched his markings dim back to silver when they start to shift gold. He's maintaining control the way his culture demands.
But biology doesn't lie.
I set the tablet aside and lie back on my bunk, staring at the ceiling. The soft vibration of the engines travels through the walls. Familiar. Soothing. The ship hums around me, ten thousand lives depending on systems I maintain.
And somewhere else on this ship, probably in his own quarters, is a Zephyrian captain whose biology keeps betraying feelings he's been trained to hide. Feelings that might be directed at me.
I should be worried. This complicates everything. Command relationships, crew dynamics, the investigation into sabotage that's trying to kill us all.
Instead, I find myself smiling at the ceiling, wondering what it costs him to suppress those golden glows. Wondering if he researches human behavior the way I'm researching his species. Wondering what happens next.
Sleep finally pulls me under, and my last conscious thought is of silver markings shifting to gold in the light of an engineering deck, beautiful and involuntary and impossibly honest.