"Try telling her that." Dana's expression softened with something like sympathy. "She loves you, you know. Even if she hasn't said it."
The words hit harder than they should. I'd suspected—the way Jalina looked at me, the small gestures, the moments when professional boundaries blurred into something warmer, but hearing confirmation from her closest friend made it devastatingly real.
"I love her," I admitted. The words felt foreign in my mouth. I'd never said them before. Never imagined I would. "Which makes watching her suffer significantly more complicated."
"Welcome to caring about humans. We're excellent at suffering and terrible at accepting comfort." Dana paused. "Give her space but don't let her disappear. She'll try to bury herself in work and guilt if you're not careful."
Sound advice. Humans seemed to require constant vigilance against self-destructive emotional spirals.
The medical bay doors opened and Captain Tor'van entered with Kex'tar, their expressions serious. Tor'van's cybernetic eye swept the space, assessing injuries and treatment progress with military precision.
"Zor'go," he said. "Report."
I pulled up the mission data on my wrist display. "Three survivors recovered from damaged escape pod. Minimalresistance from raiders once we executed the asteroid slingshot maneuver. Ship sustained moderate damage, already repaired. All survivors stable for transport."
"Jalina's spatial calculations were essential," Vaxon added from where he stood near the treatment bays. "Without her visualization, we wouldn't have found an escape route through that field."
Tor'van's gaze shifted to Jalina, who was still focused entirely on Maya. "Good work. All of you." He turned to Zorn. "Prognosis?"
"Full recovery expected for all three within two weeks. Longer for psychological adjustment." Zorn's golden-brown eyes held concern. "They've been through significant trauma. They'll need support beyond medical intervention."
"Dana, coordinate with your human community. Help integrate these survivors like you were integrated." Tor'van's command was gentle but firm. "We need to show them Mothership is home now, not prison."
"Understood."
The captain left with Kex'tar, already discussing security protocols for future rescue operations. Dana moved to Jalina's side, murmuring something that made Jalina's shoulders tighten before she nodded reluctantly.
I approached slowly, giving Jalina time to notice me. When her brown eyes finally lifted to mine, they were red-rimmed and exhausted.
"Maya's sleeping," she said quietly. "Zorn says she'll be okay."
"Physically."
"Yeah. Physically." Jalina's hands twisted together, charcoal-stained fingers leaving smudges on her sleeves. "She asked about Earth. About whether we'd found a way home. I didn't know what to tell her."
"You told her the truth."
"The truth is I stopped looking." Her voice cracked. "I built a life here. Found purpose. Found... you. And I forgot that people were still out there, still suffering, still waiting."
"Jalina—"
"Don't." She stepped back, putting physical distance between us. "Don't tell me it's not my fault or that I couldn't have done more. Don't make it easier."
The rejection stung, but I understood the impulse. Humans seemed to believe suffering was currency—that if they hurt enough, it would somehow balance the scales for those who'd hurt more.
"I won't make it easier," I said. "But I won't let you drown in guilt alone either. When you're ready to surface, I'll be here."
Something flickered across her face, gratitude mixed with pain, before she turned back to Maya's bedside.
I left her there, knowing Dana would ensure she eventually ate and rested. Knowing I couldn't force healing any more than I could force structural calculations to produce different results.
Some equations had no simple solutions.
The next three days passed in careful distance. Jalina threw herself into work with manic intensity, arriving at Operations before I did and staying long after I left. She spoke only about the expansion project, specifications, timelines, load calculations, with none of the warm creativity that usually characterized our collaboration.
I gave her the space Dana recommended while monitoring for collapse. Humans had disturbing tendencies toward self-destruction when overwhelmed.
On the fourth day, the expansion project deadline arrived.
