It was rough. Imprecise. Technically flawed in about seventeen different ways.
It was beautiful.
"There," I said softly, and realized I'd moved closer without meaning to, close enough that my shoulder nearly brushed his arm. "That's what I see when you talk about harmony. That's what you're building, even when you hide it behind load calculations and efficiency metrics."
Zor'go set down the charcoal carefully, studied his sketch with an expression I couldn't quite interpret. Something between surprise and recognition, like he'd discovered something about himself he hadn't known was there.
"This is imprecise," he said finally.
"This is honest."
"Honesty doesn't generate structural blueprints."
"No. But it generates spaces worth building blueprints for." I pulled back and realized I'd been standing too close, that my heart was beating too fast for a professional conversation about architectural theory. "Lunch break. We've been at this for four hours and I need actual food before my blood sugar crashes."
"Four hours." Zor'go checked his chronometer, his markings flickering in what I'd learned meant surprise. "The morning briefing was?—"
"Four hours ago. Which you missed. Again." I started gathering my notebooks, my charcoal case, all the scattered evidence of our collaborative chaos. "Captain Tor'van is going to start thinking you're avoiding him."
"I'm not avoiding him. I'm working."
"You're obsessing. There's a difference." I headed for the door, stopped when he didn't follow. "Are you coming?"
"I should review the support reinforcement calculations?—"
"You should eat." I kept my voice light, professional, not like I cared whether he took care of himself beyond the professional concern of a project partner. "The calculations will still be there in an hour. Your metabolic needs won't wait that long."
Something shifted in his expression. Not quite a smile, Zor'go didn't smile often, but a softening around his eyes that hit me harder than any grin.
"You're very insistent about basic maintenance requirements," he said.
"Someone has to be. You'd work through sleep cycles if your body let you."
"As would you."
He had me there. I'd woken up at my desk twice this week, neck cramped from falling asleep over sketches I couldn't quite get right. But that was different. I was human, still adapting to Mothership's rhythms, still trying to prove I deserved my place on this team. Zor'go was Head of Operations. He could work whatever schedule he wanted.
Except I didn't want him to. Wanted him to eat and sleep and take care of himself, and the intensity of that wanting scared me more than I'd admit.
"Communal dining area," I said. "Thirty minutes. Then we're both eating actual food and taking an actual break."
"Agreed."
The dining area during midday shift was controlled chaos, hundreds of beings from dozens of species, all navigating the complex social choreography of shared meals. I'd learned to love it over the past six months, learned to find comfort in the noise and movement after three weeks of near-silence on that burning planet. But today I spotted Dana immediately, waving from a corner table where she sat with Bea and Elena, and my relief was sharp enough to taste.
Dana glowed. That was the only word for it. Six months of working beside Er'dox, two months of being openly bonded to him, and she'd transformed from the exhausted engineer who'd kept us alive into someone who radiated contentment. She'dpulled her blonde hair into a messy bun, wore an oversized shirt that I suspected was Er'dox's, and couldn't stop smiling.
It hurt, watching that happiness. Not from jealousy, I was genuinely thrilled for her. But from the sharp awareness of my own loneliness, made sharper by three weeks of working in close proximity to someone I couldn't have.
"You look exhausted," Dana said as I dropped into the seat beside her. "Also covered in charcoal. What happened to the fancy holographic design systems?"
"Holographic systems can't capture spontaneity." I grabbed the food processor menu, ordered something that would keep my blood sugar stable without requiring thought. "How's Engineering?"
"Efficient. Productive. Boring without you there to catch everyone's mistakes." She bumped her shoulder against mine. "Er'dox says you're doing good work with Zor'go. Says the expansion designs are impressive."
"Er'dox talks about my work?"
"Er'dox talks about everything. Man cannot shut up once you get him comfortable." Dana's smile softened. "He's proud of you. They both are, him and Zor'go. Apparently, you're the first person who's ever successfully challenged Zor'go's designs without getting dismissed from the project."
