"Does it? She's technically your equal on this project. Captain Tor'van assigned her as co-lead specifically because her expertise complements yours."
"She's five feet tall. I could break her accidentally."
"Er'dox and Dana solved that particular logistical challenge. Seems to work well for them."
I shot him a look that promised retribution. "This is different."
"Because Dana and Er'dox had months to develop their relationship naturally while you've only known Jalina for six weeks? Because their size difference is slightly less dramatic? Or because you're scared?"
The accuracy stung. "I don't do this. Romantic entanglements. Personal connections beyond professional collaboration. I came to Mothership to build something meaningful, not to?—"
"Not to what? Experience emotions? Form bonds? Actually live instead of just exist in service to spatial optimization?"
"My work is meaningful."
"Your work is excellent. It's also lonely." Kex'tar gestured at the floating blueprints surrounding us. "You've designed living spaces for fifty thousand beings, Zor'go. But when was the last time you actuallylivedin one instead of just analyzing its traffic flow patterns?"
Before I could formulate a response, the office comm system activated. Captain Tor'van's voice filled the space with military precision. "All senior staff to the bridge immediately. Priority alert."
Kex'tar and I exchanged glances. Priority alerts meant emergencies. Rescue operations. Potentially combat situations.
We moved.
The bridge was controlled chaos when we arrived. Crew members worked stations with focused intensity, holographic displays showing sensor data and spatial coordinates. Captain Tor'van stood at the center of it all, his scarred face illuminated by tactical projections.
"Report," Kex'tar said, moving to his pilot's station.
"Distress signal, Sector Seven-Five-Nine." Captain Tor'van pulled up a holographic map. "Colony transportVeritaxis, damaged and drifting into the Kasvan Asteroid Field. Eight hundred beings aboard, multiple species. They have approximately three hours before the field's gravitational eddies tear them apart."
I studied the tactical display, my mind already calculating trajectories and rescue protocols. The Kasvan Field was notoriously difficult, dense asteroid clusters with unpredictable orbital patterns. Navigation required real-time spatial analysis to avoid collisions.
"Rescue team assembly?" I asked.
"Standard emergency protocol. Medical, security, engineering." Captain Tor'van's cybernetic eye focused on me. "I need you on this one, Zor'go. The asteroid navigation requires your spatial calculation abilities."
"Understood." I moved to a secondary console, pulling up the field's structural data. "I'll need?—"
"Jalina Chauncy reporting as ordered, Captain."
Her voice stopped my thoughts mid-calculation. I turned to find her standing at the bridge entrance, slightly out of breath like she'd run from her quarters. She was dressed in standard duty clothing, hair pulled back, those ridiculous glasses slightly crooked on her face.
She was perfect.
She wouldn't look at me.
Captain Tor'van's expression remained neutral, but I'd served under him long enough to recognize assessment in his posture. "Architect Chauncy. I need your three-dimensional visualization skills for this rescue operation."
Jalina's eyes widened. "Sir, I'm not, I mean, I'm not trained for?—"
"You designed variable pod configurations that optimize spatial efficiency. This situation requires someone who can visualize complex three-dimensional paths through an asteroid field in real-time. Zor'go will handle the calculations. You'll provide the spatial intuition."
"I..." She glanced at me finally, uncertainty clear in her expression. "Whatever you need, Captain."
"Excellent. Zor'go, brief her on the situation. You have twenty minutes before the transport team departs."
Twenty minutes to work alongside the being I'd been avoiding for three days. Twenty minutes to prove I could maintain professional conduct despite my personal feelings. Twenty minutes to ensure I didn't sabotage this rescue operationwith my catastrophic inability to manage simple emotional responses.
Outstanding.
