"Captain Tor'van believes human input is valuable for human-compatible spaces," he continued. "I'm skeptical. But I'm willing to be proven wrong."
The challenge in his voice was unmistakable.
I set my notebook on the holoprojector table. "Then let's see if I can change your mind."
His expression didn't shift, but something flickered in those blue eyes. Interest, maybe. Or just curiosity about what the small human architect thought she could contribute.
"Show me," Zor'go said.
I opened my notebook to the first sketch.
The chronometer read 0600 exactly.
And suddenly, I understood why Zor'go had called me here at this precise moment.
This wasn't just a briefing.
This was a test.
Chapter 2
Zor’go
"You're early," I said without turning.
"I wanted to be prepared." Her voice was steadier than I'd expected. Most humans sounded nervous around me, something about my height, or my directness, or perhaps the way my crystalline markings shifted with my concentration. Jalina's voice held determination instead.
"Then show me what you've prepared."
Movement behind me as she approached the central holoprojector table. I glanced, observing how she navigated the space. She moved carefully, respectfully, not disturbing the floating models. Her eyes tracked the expansion proposal with what appeared to be genuine interest rather than confusion.
Her fingers, small, delicate, ink-stained, traced patterns in the air above the projection without actually touching it. Reading the design the way I would read technical specifications. Seeing the architecture beneath the data.
"This is massive," she said quietly. "You're adding an entire district."
"We're expecting a major influx." I finally turned to face her properly, giving her my full attention. "Three colony shipsfailed in the Kavra sector. Mothership is responding. Estimated arrival: sixteen thousand displaced beings across twelve species."
Sixteen thousand souls who'd lost everything. Sixteen thousand beings who'd need shelter, security, community. The weight of that responsibility pressed against my chest like physical pressure.
Jalina's eyes, dark brown, magnified slightly by her Earth-made glasses, widened behind those lenses. "Where will they all go?"
"That's what you're here to determine." I studied her, noting the charcoal stains on her hands, the exhaustion shadowing her features, the way she held herself with careful dignity despite her obvious nervousness. "Captain Tor'van believes human input is valuable for human-compatible spaces. I'm skeptical. But I'm willing to be proven wrong."
Jalina set her notebook on the holoprojector table with deliberate care. Those dark eyes met mine without flinching, and I saw understanding. Not just of the project's scope, but of the test I was administering.
"Then let's see if I can change your mind," she said.
She opened her notebook.
The pages were filled with sketches, hundreds of them. Architectural drawings, spatial concepts, environmental designs. All rendered in charcoal and ink with a precision that rivaled holographic accuracy. I'd known humans had artistic traditions, but I hadn't expected this level of technical skill combined with aesthetic vision.
Jalina flipped to a marked page and placed the notebook where the holoprojector's light illuminated it properly.
The drawing showed a residential sector, but unlike my clean geometric efficiency, hers was organic. Flowing. The spaces she'd designed weren't just functional, they were inviting. Publicareas that encouraged congregation without forcing it. Private quarters that provided genuine privacy without isolation. Ceiling heights that varied to prevent the oppressive monotony of standardized spaces.
"Your designs are mathematically perfect," Jalina said, her finger tracing one of my holographic residential pods. "Space utilization is optimal. Traffic flow is efficient. By every engineering metric, they work."
She paused, and I braced myself for the criticism I could feel coming.
