"That depends on the opinion."
We'd reached Operations, the massive doors sliding open to reveal the organized chaos of Zor'go's work environment. Holographic displays floated everywhere, showing the expansion project from every conceivable angle. His team moved through the space with practiced efficiency, barely glancing up as we entered.
"We should review the support reinforcement calculations," Zor'go said, and the moment of personal conversation evaporated like it had never existed.
"Right. Professional priorities."
"Jalina—"
"It's fine. You're right. We have work to do." I headed for my designated workspace, tried not to feel like I'd lost something I'd never actually had.
The afternoon passed in calculations and adjustments, in the comfortable rhythm we'd developed over three weeks of intensive collaboration. By 1800 hours, my eyes were crossing and my hands were cramping and I'd filled another seventeen pages of my notebook with sketches that were getting progressively less precise as exhaustion set in.
"That's enough," Zor'go said finally. "We've done sufficient work for today."
"We still need to finalize the plaza dimensions?—"
"Tomorrow. After mandated rest." He started shutting down the holographic displays with methodical precision. "Bea's orders. You agreed to comply."
"I agreed conditionally. You have to comply too."
"Then we'll both comply." He finished the shutdown sequence, turned to face me fully. "I'll walk you to your quarters."
"That's not necessary."
"Nevertheless."
That word again. Heavy with meaning I couldn't quite parse.
We left Operations together, the ship's corridors dimmer during evening shift, fewer beings moving through the spaces. The walk to the residential sector felt longer than usual, stretched by awareness and unspoken tension.
"Thank you," I said finally, breaking the silence. "For today. For drawing with charcoal. For eating lunch with actual people instead of holing up in your office."
"You're welcome." He paused. "Thank you for expanding my perspective. For challenging my designs. For making me see spaces differently."
"That's my job."
"No. Your job is to provide human input on human-compatible housing. What you actually do is force me to reconsider fundamental assumptions about what makes a space worth inhabiting." His markings flickered rapidly now, something intense in his ice-blue eyes. "That's significantly beyond job requirements."
We'd reached my quarters—the shared space I still occupied with Bea and Elena, despite Dana's departure to live with Er'dox. The door loomed ahead, marking the end of our day, the return to separate lives.
"Goodnight, Zor'go."
"Jalina."
I turned back, found him watching me with an expression I'd never seen before. Open. Vulnerable. Like he wanted to say something but couldn't figure out how.
"What?"
"I—" He stopped. Started again. "The charcoal drawing. I kept it. The one from this morning."
"It was imprecise. Full of technical flaws."
"It was honest." His markings shimmered. "You were right about that."
The moment stretched between us, loaded with everything we weren't saying. I wanted to close the distance, wanted to understand what those rapidly flickering markings meant, and wanted to ask what was happening between us beyond professional collaboration.
Instead, I smiled, small and genuine and entirely too revealing. "Goodnight, Zor'go. Get some actual sleep."
