Chapter 7
Shared Quarters Protocol
Lily
Lily worried about Khar more than she cared to admit. Her colleague had been unable to work for three galactic days after their shared lunch. She had no idea what had made him sick, but she held the line, taking responsibility for everything until he returned.
She went through Vitro’s full error report and fixed every issue that didn’t require expensive replacement components.
Then she tackled the problems that officially did require them, as her experience told her the existing tools were enough if she recalibrated a few parameters.
Two chrono-years aboard her own starcruiser had carved ingenuity into her bones.
For the first time since her abduction, Lily felt genuinely lonely.
She had grown fond of Khar over the past month.
They barely spoke, yet the gray giant’s quiet, towering presence had become a steady point in her chaotic new life.
His fierce face had frightened her at first, but now she associated it with safety, warmth, even comfort.
Also, Khar had even offered her his food, a gesture so unexpected it still glowed in her mind.
She didn’t know exactly when he would return, but she was determined to repay his kindness with a meal of her own making.
She would make it spicier than usual this time; now she knew Khar preferred that flavor.
A soft chime signaled an incoming call. Lily copied the casual gesture she’d seen Khar use dozens of times and flicked the signal to the main display.
“Vegrun, how can I help you?”
“Lily! Always a pleasure to see your little Human… what do you call it?”
“My face?”
“Yes, your face! How is my new mechanic doing?”
“Everything is wonderful. Vitro is in perfect condition, waiting for her owner.”
Vegrun rippled happily across the screen, tentacles twisting in excitement.
“I can hardly wait for our next journey, but regrettably I am very busy. In about ten chrono-cycles we should be ready to launch. Be prepared by then. Usually you will not receive such generous notice, but what can I say? Vitro is my weakness. I want her in flawless form.”
He chuckled at his own joke. Lily smiled politely and breathed out in relief when the call finally ended. The thought of facing Vegrun without Khar at her side was depressing. The nearly silent, imposing Divani was a stabilizing wall against Vegrun’s noisy theatrics.
She was still sinking deeper into her gloom when Vitro announced a crew-level entry authorization.
Khar was back.
Lily shot to her feet, instinctively ready to run to him before she stopped herself. Khar would probably hate it if she fussed. Better to wait, calm and collected, at the central console.
The hatch slid open and Lily felt tension melt from her shoulders at the sight of him: a massive gray figure, horns nearly scraping the frame, eyes glowing like embers in his skull.
“Khar, how are you? Are you all right? Wait, never mind, I know work comes first. I’ll send you the report I put together.”
She tapped in a flurry. Khar’s VoidBrace blinked as the file arrived. He sank into the seat beside her with a weight that shook the console. He looked thinner now, muscles sharply carved, the way bodybuilders back home looked when they dehydrated themselves before competitions.
He didn’t even check the data. He just stared ahead, silent and unmoving.
Lily tried again.
“Vegrun called. He said he’s incredibly busy, but expects to leave in ten chrono-cycles. Of course we should be ready before then, but that’s the plan.”
Khar rubbed his forehead and the base of one horn, as though even this simple update caused him pain.
“Did he say how long we will be gone?”
Lily shook her head, forgetting for a moment that Divani rarely used such gestures.
“No. Sorry, I forgot to ask.”
At last he looked at her. His glowing eyes were like the lanterns of death—terrifying, except Lily had grown strangely comfortable with them.
“You were right not to ask. If he wants to tell us, fine. If not, we don’t pressure him.”
Lily’s chest lifted. Praise from Khar felt absurdly good.
Silence followed, but it felt peaceful. Khar had approved of her judgment. Vegrun wouldn’t arrive for ten chrono-cycles. Her probation was ending. Her own ship was safe. The universe felt manageable for once.
She didn’t realize she had begun to hum her favorite song.
She loved it so much she had shared it across every public database, uploaded it for any curious non-human to find.
She played it in the gym and in common rooms whenever allowed.
No one had ever said they liked it. Usually she heard things like “too loud,” “abrasive,” or “is this a battle anthem,” but Lily didn’t care.
She loved it.
And she didn’t notice that while she hummed softly, Khar’s massive boot tapped slowly, rhythmically, in perfect time with her tune.
Several chrono-cycles later, they were polishing the ship’s exterior in their suits.
Khar glided along Vitro’s hull in a sleek black Divani spacesuit.
The design followed the lines of his body like a second skin, its angular plating emphasizing the sharp sweep of his horns.
Lily suspected this was a deliberate Divani fashion choice.
Against the abyss-dark surface of the suit, the horns themselves were traced with faint blue bioluminescent lights, turning his silhouette into something both elegant and predatory in the void.
Using subtle bursts of vibrational propulsion, Khar moved with the effortless grace of an Earth feline stalking its prey.
Lily, meanwhile, hated her own suit.
At first glance it was beautiful, like everything else aboard Vitro. Long, gauzy beige fabric wrapped around her in layered folds, forming a protective cocoon against the bite of space. The material shimmered softly in the starlight, more like haute couture than survival gear.
Unfortunately, it was also unbearably warm.
Her spacewear unfolded into delicate, wing-like protrusions along her back, thin membranes that helped capture energy from nearby solar radiation.
When she moved, the fabric billowed around her, and she drifted through the void like some oversized jellyfish, slow and graceful whether she liked it or not.
The suit itself was brilliant engineering. It could keep her alive in open space for chrono-cycles with minimal input, harvesting faint solar flares for power and recycling every possible resource.
But brilliance did not stop sweat from running down her spine.
Inside the elegant cocoon, Lily was slowly roasting.
Her silent suffering was interrupted when an emergency alert flashed on their communicators.
“We have a problem.”
Before Lily could react, Khar unclipped both of them from the tether lines, hauled open the airlock hatch beneath them, and pushed her inside without hesitation.
“Khar! What happened?”
He lifted a hand to silence her while he read the incoming data. His expression hardened. Then, in a rare flare of irritation, he barked at Vitro as though the ship’s AI cared even remotely about his temper.
“Vitro, full lockdown on guest suite B. KRIO-223 contamination alert. Full exposure report and sterilization estimate, now.”
Lily froze. Vitro sealed the suite immediately, switching the entire area to a closed-cycle atmosphere.
“Guest suite B sealed. Exposure analysis underway. Estimated sterilization period for KRIO-223: three chrono-cycles.”
Lily reached for her helmet clasps, but Khar caught her wrist.
“Wait until Vitro confirms this area safe.”
“Because of KRIO-223 exposure? What is that?”
Khar stared at her through his darkened visor as if he couldn’t believe the question.
“You’ve never heard of it? Where have you been the last thirty chrono-years?”
Lily punched his upper arm playfully. It came out harder than she meant, but surely someone like Khar didn’t even feel it. His species worshipped strength. A little tap meant nothing.
“Oh, come on. You know I was on Earth until two chrono-years ago.”
The giant in the black suit stared at her.
“You have only been in space for two chrono-years.”
A flush crept up her neck.
“Yes. This is my first job. Well, not ever—I worked plenty on Earth. But out here, yes.”
The silence stretched, so she added in a small voice:
“I promise I’ll try not to be a burden.”
Khar didn’t respond to that. He returned to the emergency at hand.
“KRIO-223 is an extremely resilient nanovirus. It attacks the nervous system and is fatal to most intelligent species,” Khar said. “The station has confirmed an active case. All docking bays and communal areas are sealed until sterilization is complete. This is the strictest level of lockdown.”
Lily shrugged. It was not her first sterilization cycle. Space loved its protocols, especially the dramatic ones.
“All right,” she said. “How long are we stuck here?”
“Vitro is still calculating air contamination levels. Until clearance is given, the suits stay on.”
Almost on cue, Vitro’s voice filled the suite.
“Guest suite B atmosphere analyzed. Probability of viral presence: zero point two percent. KRIO-223 protocol initiated for all remaining ship sections. Please remain within guest suite B until sterilization is complete. Estimated remaining time: three chrono-cycles.”
Lily’s stomach dropped.
Three chrono-cycles. Three galactic days, sealed inside a luxurious but very small suite with Khar. She liked him. She even trusted him. But being confined with a coworker for that long was a different matter entirely.
Before she could dwell on it, Khar was already halfway out of his suit. Sweat slicked his gray skin, his powerful muscles shifting beneath a thin black undershirt.
Yes. This is going to be a very long three chrono-cycles.
She hurried out of her own suit. Even with a top-tier model, she was soaked through. Heat rose to her cheeks as she hoped Khar would not notice. He spared her only a brief glance before striding into the tiny bathroom and shutting the door behind him.
While she waited, Lily pulled up the IMPERIUM database and began skimming entries on KRIO-223. She had barely made it through the first paragraph when a heavy crash echoed from behind the bathroom door.
“Khar?” she called, alarmed. “Are you all right?”
“I am fine,” came his muffled reply. “I will be out shortly.”
Relief loosened her chest, but only slightly. When he emerged, he was freshly cleaned, water still clinging to his skin. A massive bruise bloomed across the bridge of his nose, sealed with a layer of medic-gel.
“Oh my god, Khar,” she said. “What happened?”
He shrugged, as if the injury were trivial.
“I tripped. There is a first aid kit inside. I treated it. Do not concern yourself.”
She could not help it.
“That looks awful. That must have hurt. Are you sure you do not need help?”
He met her gaze with that unreadable, glowing stare she was slowly learning to interpret.
“It will heal. The gel seals the injury. I also cannot smell anything right now, which is preferable. Under these conditions, that could be dangerous.”
She tilted her head, unconvinced.
“Well, if you say so. I read that KRIO-223 spreads through the air, but I doubt a broken nose improves your immune system. Still, maybe the gel helps.”
Without another word, Khar lowered himself onto the couch beside her. The furniture groaned under his weight. Lily had never sat this close to him before. Up close, his sheer size and the solid strength of his arms were impossible to ignore.
She bolted for the bathroom.
Better safe than saying something she could never take back.