Chapter 14 NADINE #3
I glanced at the total, whistled low, and finally closed the interface. "Done."
As he turned to leave, I called after him, "You know, for someone who claims not to underestimate me, you're surprisingly tolerant of my coping mechanisms."
He paused, looking back over his shoulder, and a deeper gold flickered faintly through his blood red aura. "On the contrary, I find them… informative."
With that, he left me standing there with a full stomach, an overstuffed shopping list, and the unsettling realization that for the first time since all of this began, I didn't feel quite so powerless. A feeling that made me very, very dangerous.
The ship chimed softly behind me. Not an alarm.
Not a warning. Just… a polite sound. Like a throat being cleared.
I turned in time to see a small, sleek drone detach from a recessed port in the ceiling.
It hovered for a beat, its surface rippled with faint blue light, then projected a calm, utterly smug message into the air.
DELIVERY COMPLETE.
My mouth fell open.
"No way," I whispered.
The drone pivoted, clearly expecting me to follow, and glided down the corridor with all the confidence of something that knew exactly where it was going.
I trailed after it, half amused, half delighted, feeling absurdly like a kid chasing an ice-cream truck.
It led me back to my quarters. The door slid open, and I stopped short on the threshold.
Boxes.
So many boxes.
They were stacked neatly, of course, because this ship had standards, but still, there were at least a dozen of them, some tall and narrow, others wide and flat, all labeled with softly glowing glyphs that resolved into English the moment I focused on them.
I let out a laugh I couldn't stop. "Oh my God."
Behind the last box, the drone hovered once more, then zipped back out through the open hatch. Through the viewport, I caught a glimpse of it slipping away from the ship entirely, a tiny speck darting off into the dark like a cosmic delivery fairy.
I stared after it, grinning.
"That," I nodded approvingly to the empty room, "is the coolest thing I have ever seen."
Definitely something I could get used to. I stepped from the threshold as the door closed behind me and turned to the boxes.
Well.
If I were going to be kidnapped by a dangerously attractive alien spymaster and dragged into a universe-spanning conspiracy, I was at least going to look good doing it.
I stepped fully into the room and crouched beside the first box.
On Earth, shopping had always been… utilitarian.
I bought lab equipment with enthusiasm. Telescope components.
Simulation software upgrades. I could spend hours comparing spectrometer models without blinking.
The anticipation of new data? That made my pulse tick up.
Clothes? That had always been a checklist.
Required. Appropriate. Functional.
I'd never understood my siblings' delight over Christmas morning.
The way they'd tear into wrapping paper as if the world hinged on what was inside.
The way they'd gasp over sweaters or shoes or whatever seasonal thing was trending that year.
Gift-giving had been worse. Nine times out of ten, I miscalculated.
Bought something technically thoughtful but emotionally wrong.
Too practical. Too niche. Too… me. The only time I'd gotten it right was when my mom told me exactly what she wanted.
Surprise had never been my strength. I sliced open the first box and froze.
The fabric inside shimmered like liquid dusk, impossibly soft beneath my fingers.
It shifted temperature as I touched it, calibrating to me.
I felt something bloom in my chest. Not logic.
Not analysis. Anticipation. I sat back on my heels, startled by the intensity of it.
This wasn't necessity. This wasn't survival.
This was… fun. The realization was so foreign it almost embarrassed me.
Was this what my siblings had felt? That almost electric hum of wanting to try everything at once?
To see how it fit, how it looked, how it made you feel?
Another box. Boots this time. Sleek. Adaptive gravity soles.
I imagined walking across alien terrain without stumbling like a confused tourist. A laugh bubbled out of me, softer this time.
Okay. This was different. For a moment—just a moment—I wondered.
Was this the bond? Was this what Dravok meant by balance?
Had I been so tightly wound for so long that I'd mistaken tension for identity?
Were my feelings and emotions changing? No. Not changing: Emerging.
That was the word. Nothing inside me felt replaced.
It felt… uncovered. Like someone had adjusted gravity and I hadn't realized how much pressure I'd been under until it eased.
The tension wasn't gone. But this? This spark of excitement.
This strange, buoyant lift in my chest. It didn't feel imposed. It felt chosen.
I stood, holding the dress against myself, turning toward the reflective surface of the viewport.
Stars scattered across black infinity behind me.
For the first time since Earth fell, I didn't feel like prey.
I didn't feel like cargo. I didn't even feel like a variable being managed.
I felt… engaged. Curious. Alive in a way that had nothing to do with fear.
I let out a slow breath. Okay. Maybe there was something to this Aelyth bond.
Not destiny. Not divine nonsense. Just… alignment?
I could live with alignment. And if that alignment made me want to open twelve more boxes like it was Christmas morning in a universe that didn't owe me anything?
Well.
Maybe that wasn't the worst possible outcome. I smiled to myself, rolled up my sleeves, and got to work.
Box after box opened with a soft hiss, lids folding back like petals. Inside each: perfection. Fabric that shimmered faintly as it adjusted to ambient light. "Okay," I murmured. "I see the appeal."
I moved on to the smaller packages, curiosity winning out over restraint. One unfolded into a compact device that floated up at eye level the moment I removed it from its casing. A soft, translucent panel expanded in front of my face.
DERMAL ENHANCEMENT MODULE — READY
"Oh no," I said. "Absolutely not."
The panel pulsed patiently. I glanced at my reflection again. The faint glow beneath my skin. The shadows under my eyes from too little sleep and too much existential dread. "…fine."
The panel shifted, and the surface became soft and warm.
Before I could overthink it, I leaned forward and pressed my face against it.
The sensation was… incredible. Not cold.
Not clinical. More like a gentle hum, micro-currents gliding over my skin.
I felt tiny adjustments, subtle, precise.
A whisper of pressure at my cheekbones. A soft warmth at my lips.
Something smoothing, blending, enhancing.
I pulled back with a gasp. My reflection blinked at me. Perfectly even skin. A natural flush that looked like I'd just come in from a brisk walk. My eyes were brighter, my lashes darker, my lips just a touch fuller without looking artificial.
"No," I breathed. "That's cheating."
I leaned in again, experimentally. After all, I was a scientist, right? I had to experiment. The panel responded instantly, adjusting to my expression as if it were reading me. I laughed, a real laugh this time, light and a little giddy. "Okay. I officially live here now."
I spent the next half hour trying things on, off, around, and sideways.
A face massager that felt like it reached into my skull and shook loose all the tension I'd been carrying since Earth fell.
A hair tool that simply… asked what I wanted and then did it.
A fabric that adapted to my body temperature and mood, darkening slightly when I felt irritated, lightening when I relaxed.
At one point, I caught sight of myself again in the mirror, hair loose, skin glowing softly, wearing clothes that felt like they belonged to this version of me rather than the woman I'd been before.
On Earth, I lived in layers. Structured blazers. Neutral palettes. Practical shoes. It hadn't always been that way. There had been a boyfriend once.
Graduate school. Astrophysics track. He'd liked telling people I was the smart one.
Said it like it was charming. Until it wasn't. We'd gone on a double date, his colleague and the colleague's girlfriend.
I'd gotten excited about something, dark matter modeling, I think.
Or gravitational lensing. I didn't remember the topic as much as I remembered the look on his face.
Tight. Smiling, but tight. Later that night, I came back from the bathroom and paused outside the door when I heard voices.
"I mean, she's impressive," the other woman had said, her tone light in the way people use when they're sharpening something. "But she's a lot."
A small laugh followed from my boyfriend, "Yeah. Sometimes she's a little too much. She can get… intense."
Too much. That had been the word that stuck. Too much.
Too smart.
Too enthusiastic.
Too loud when she forgot to be careful.
I hadn't confronted him. I'd just adjusted.
Muted colors instead of bright ones. Hair tied back instead of loose.
Let him answer more questions at dinner.
Smiled and redirected conversations when they drifted toward my field.
It was easier that way. Safer. I told myself I didn't care about being noticed.
That I preferred practicality. That being underestimated was strategic.
But the truth was simpler: It hurt less.
Then the invasion came.
And narrowing became instinct.
Eat. Think. Calculate. Endure.
There hadn't been space for softness.
Or curiosity outside equations.
Looking at myself now—hair loose, skin warm, wearing something that flowed instead of hid—I realized how long it had been since I'd allowed myself to take up space without apology.
The woman in the mirror didn't look like she was bracing to be called too much.
She looked like she'd stopped shrinking.
She looked engaged. Alert in a different way. Alive beyond crisis.
I was HERE. Present. In space. On an alien ship.
Wearing starlight and tech that made Earth look prehistoric.
With a mind full of impossible equations and a body that responded to this universe like it had been waiting for it.
Annoyingly, my thoughts drifted back to Dravok.
To the way his eyes had flicked gold when he'd watched me scroll through the shopping interface.
To the low hum in the air when he stood too close.
To the kiss I was absolutely not thinking about.
I shook my head, forcing the thoughts away.
One crisis at a time, Nadine.
I sat down on the edge of the bed, surrounded by boxes and soft light and the quiet reassurance of a ship that seemed to accept me without question.
"Okay. I'm dressed. I'm fed. I'm… terrifyingly well-equipped." I mumbled aloud, my gaze drifting back to the faint glow tracing my arm. "Now," I added, resolve settling in, "let's figure out what the hell is going on."
Because no matter how incredible the tech, no matter how breathtaking the stars, I hadn't forgotten why I was here.