The words should have been professional. Supervisor assigning personnel based on optimal skill distribution. But the way he said it, the slight emphasis onme, the careful neutrality that suggested deliberate choice—made it clear this wasn't random selection.
Every instinct screamed to object. Working closely with Zorn was dangerous, not because he was incompetent but because he was the opposite. Because he saw too much, pushed too hard at boundaries I'd spent years fortifying. Because when he looked at me like he was looking at me now, I felt exposed in ways that had nothing to do with professional evaluation.
But objecting would reveal exactly what I was trying to hide. Would admit that proximity to him affected me, that I needed distance for reasons unrelated to medical efficiency.
So I did what I always did when cornered: defaulted to pure professionalism.
"Fine. What's our departure window?"
Resignation flickered across his expression before the professional mask slid back into place. "Twenty minutes. I'm taking Pel'vix and Dr. Ko'rath as well. Four-person team, maximum flexibility."
"I'll prep the transport medical equipment." I moved past him toward the larger storage area, putting physical distance between us because it was the only control I had left. "We'll need redundant systems if infrastructure on the station is compromised."
"Already arranged." He followed me, because of course he did. Zorn had this infuriating habit of not taking hints. "Bea, about the team assignments?—"
"Twenty minutes doesn't leave time for discussion." I pulled out the portable regeneration unit, started the diagnostic sequence. The familiar hum of technology powering up was soothing, mechanical and predictable. "I assume you've already coordinated with Captain Tor'van?"
"Yes."
"And confirmed transport logistics with Kex'tar?"
"Yes."
"Then we're set. I'll meet you at the shuttle bay in fifteen minutes."
I could feel him watching me, could sense the conversation he wanted to have pressing against the professional boundaries I kept erecting. The unspoken questions about why I'd been avoiding him since our confrontation about therapy,about whether I'd actually attended my session with Dr. Senna, about the careful distance I maintained whenever we worked together now.
But Zorn, whatever his other qualities, understood timing. Understood that right now, with sixty-three beings depending on us, personal matters had to wait.
"Fifteen minutes," he agreed, and left me alone with the machines.
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
This was going to be a disaster. Not the outbreak, I could handle medical emergencies in my sleep. But being trapped in close proximity with Zorn for however long this crisis lasted, unable to maintain the professional distance I'd carefully cultivated, forced to interact in ways that might crack the shell I'd built around myself?—
My hands trembled.
Just once. Just for a moment.
Then I shoved the weakness down where it belonged, finished prepping the equipment, and headed for the shuttle bay.
The transport vessel was smaller than Mothership's main cruisers, built for speed and maneuverability rather than comfort. Pel'vix was already aboard when I arrived, running system checks with her characteristic efficiency. Dr. Ko'rath, a Zandovian physician with deep amber skin and a reputation for innovative xenobiology, nodded acknowledgment as I loaded the medical equipment.
Zorn boarded last, moving with that peculiar grace large beings develop when navigating spaces not quite built fortheir size. His presence seemed to fill the entire shuttle, or maybe that was just my hyperawareness of him, the way I'd become attuned to his proximity despite every effort not to be.
"Departure in three minutes," Kex'tar's voice crackled through the comm system from the pilot's compartment. "ETA to Veridian Station: forty-seven minutes."
I secured my equipment, double-checked the restraints, and focused on the comforting routine of preparation. Forty-seven minutes. I could maintain professional distance for forty-seven minutes. Then we'd be dealing with the outbreak, too busy for personal complications.
Except Zorn sat down beside me.
Not across from me, where Dr. Ko'rath had taken position. Not near the cockpit where Pel'vix was reviewing patient files on her datapad. Beside me, close enough that I could smell whatever Zandovians used for cleanliness, something herbal and clean that made me think of rain on stone.
"You've been avoiding me," he said quietly, under the rumble of engines powering up.
"I've been busy."
"You've been avoiding me," he repeated, without accusation. Just fact, stated with the same calm certainty he brought to diagnoses. "Since I mandated the therapy sessions. Bea?—"
