My father would be appalled. Architect Zor'lan of the Garmuth'e Spatial Planning Commission had raised me to value control above all else. Emotions were variables to be managed, not indulged. Personal desires were irrelevant beside professional obligations. He'd built a career on that philosophy, earning recognition across three star systems for designs that prioritized pure functionality.
He'd also died alone in his pristine office, surrounded by awards and accolades and not a single being who mourned him as a person rather than an institution.
I pulled up Jalina's latest submission, modifications to the community gathering spaces in Cluster Three. Her designs transformed my efficient plaza into something alive. She'd added variable lighting systems that mimicked natural day-night cycles for species that required them. Incorporated smallalcoves at different heights to accommodate beings of various sizes. Created sight lines that encouraged social interaction while still providing privacy for those who needed solitude.
Every modification made the space more functional. She hadn't sacrificed efficiency for aesthetics. She'd demonstrated that the two weren't mutually exclusive. Those beings actually performedbetterin environments designed for psychological comfort, not just physical accommodation.
She was brilliant. Intuitive in ways that complemented my analytical approach perfectly. In six weeks of collaboration, she'd taught me more about spatial psychology than four years of advanced study on Garmuth'e.
And I'd responded to her innocent, enthusiastic touch by freezing like a malfunctioning cooling system and retreating behind professional barriers.
Pathetic.
The office door chimed. I didn't turn from the holographic displays. "Not now."
The door opened anyway. Kex'tar's voice carried amusement I didn't appreciate. "You've been here for eighteen hours, Zor'go. Captain Tor'van is concerned you've fused with the holoprojectors."
"Tell the captain I'm managing the expansion project according to schedule."
"I told him you're avoiding your co-designer because you caught feelings and don't know how to process them."
I spun to face him, markings flashing indignation. "You said what?"
Kex'tar leaned against the doorframe, his purple skin rippling with barely contained laughter. "Relax. I told him you were working through complex calculations. But I'm tellingyouthat you're being an idiot."
"My personal relationships aren't your concern."
"They are when they affect Mothership operations. Jalina submitted three project updates today through official channels instead of meeting with you directly. That's inefficient communication protocol for a co-lead partnership." Kex'tar moved into the office, navigating around the floating blueprints with practiced ease. "What happened?"
"Nothing happened."
"Zor'go. I've known you for six years. You don't avoid competent collaborators. You collect them like Er'dox collects outdated engineering manuals. So either Jalina suddenly became incompetent, which her work suggests is impossible, or something personal is driving your behavior."
I turned back to the holoprojectors, unwilling to let him see my expression. "She touched my arm. In the cargo bay. It was unexpected."
"And you panicked."
"I maintained professional boundaries."
"You fled like a first-year academy student from an oral examination." Kex'tar's tone gentled slightly. "She's human, Zor'go. Humans touch. It's how they communicate, how they build connections. She probably didn't even think about it, just reached out in a moment of enthusiasm."
"I know that." The words came out sharper than intended. "I've studied human behavioral patterns. Read Dana's cultural briefings. I'm aware that physical contact has different significance for humans than Zandovians."
"Then why the retreat?"
Because my markings had brightened. Because my body had responded before my brain engaged, flooding me with sensation I wasn't prepared for. Because for seventeen seconds in that cargo bay, I'd forgotten about professional obligations and expansion deadlines and my father's voice in my head reminding me that personal feelings were inefficient distractions.
I'd forgotten everything except how perfectly Jalina's small hand fit against my arm. How her eyes lit up when she was excited. How her proximity made me want things I'd never wanted before.
"Because it wasn't innocent for me," I admitted quietly. "She touched my arm as a colleague. I felt it as something more."
Silence behind me. Then Kex'tar moved to stand beside me, studying the holographic city models with false concentration. "You're attracted to her."
"Obviously."
"And you think that's a problem."
"She's my co-designer. My colleague. A human who's been on Mothership for six months, displaced across impossible distances, trying to build a new life in circumstances she never chose. The power dynamic alone makes any romantic consideration inappropriate."
