"We can work with that. Navigation team, guide me in."
GettingMercy's Winginto position was the most delicate operation I'd ever calculated. Jalina called out spatial relationships while I translated them into precise coordinates. Thread the needle between asteroids. Match theVeritaxis'stumble. Establish a stable docking vector despite the chaos surrounding us.
It took nineteen minutes.
By the time we locked onto the damaged transport, I could feel tension singing through every muscle. Beside me, Jalina was shaking with an adrenaline aftermath, not fear.
"Commencing evacuation," Zorn reported from the medical bay. "First refugees coming through now."
We waited while eight hundred beings transferred from the dyingVeritaxistoMercy's Wing. Families. Children. Beings from a dozen different species, all terrified and injured and grateful to be alive.
And all the while, Jalina and I monitored the asteroid field, calling out adjustments as the rock formations shifted around us. Our stable pocket was degrading faster than projected. We had minutes, not the full forty-seven I'd calculated.
"Last group boarding now," Zorn announced.
"We need to leave. Now." I highlighted the deteriorating asteroid configuration. "We have approximately ninety seconds before this pocket collapses."
"Thirty seconds," Vaxon confirmed. "Then we run."
The final refugees scrambled aboard. Docking clamps released.Mercy's Wingpivoted with agonizing slowness, too slow, the asteroids were closing?—
"There!" Jalina sketched a route through closing gaps. "Narrow path, but it's there!"
I calculated collision probabilities. Seventy-three percent chance of impact. Unacceptable odds. I should override her visualization, find a safer route, protect?—
I need you to trust me. Actually trust me.
I transmitted her coordinates to Vaxon without modification. "Navigation confirms. Execute immediately."
Mercy's Wingshot forward through the narrowest gap I'd ever calculated. Asteroids scraped our shields, proximity alarms screaming. Jalina's path threaded impossible spaces, trusting margins measured in meters while moving at speeds that made every second critical.
It worked.
We burst free of the asteroid field's densest sector with minor shield damage and eight hundred saved lives.
The bridge erupted in controlled celebration with professional relief expressed through efficient acknowledgment. Medical reported no critical injuries during evacuation. Engineering confirmed all systems nominal. Vaxon transmitted success codes to Captain Tor'van.
And I turned to Jalina, who was staring at the viewscreen with an expression of stunned disbelief.
"We did it," she whispered.
"You did it. Your visualizations saved them."
"Your calculations saved them."
"Then we did it." I couldn't stop the words. Couldn't maintain professional distance anymore. "Together."
She looked at me finally, those dark eyes holding something that made my markings flare bright enough that even humans could see. Recognition. Understanding. The same electricity that had sparked between us in the cargo bay three days ago.
The same thing I'd been too frightened to acknowledge.
The bridge crew was watching, Vaxon with obvious amusement, Zorn with knowing compassion. I didn't care. For once in my carefully controlled life, I didn't calculate the most efficient response or consider proper professional protocols or hear my father's voice warning about emotional distractions.
I reached for Jalina's hand.
She met me halfway, her small fingers threading through mine. The contact sent sensation cascading through my nervous system, not just physical, though that was overwhelming enough. Emotional. Connection. Something I'd never wanted before because wanting meant vulnerability meant risk meant potential failure.
But standing there with her hand in mine, watching refugees embrace on the viewscreen while asteroids tumbled harmlessly in our wake, I understood something my father never had.
