Page 9 of Stars Don't Forget


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“I need a shower,” I mutter.

He nods once. Doesn’t offer to leave.

I hesitate. “You gonna stand there while I strip?”

“I can turn.”

That makes me laugh for real. “Wow. Chivalryandsurveillance. What a combo.”

“I am not surveilling you.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“You are… readable.”

I blink. “That supposed to be a compliment?”

“It is an observation.”

“Right. Of course it is.”

I move toward the side panel where I’m guessing the fresher unit is hidden. It slides open without resistance, revealing anarrow stall, towels sealed in sterile wrap, and a pale blue light that hums like a low-grade engine. I step inside, but not before glancing back at him.

He’s turned around. True to his word.

But he’s listening.

I can feel it in the set of his shoulders. The tilt of his head. The tension in the air that doesn’t fade even when the water starts to fall.

And that’s what gets me.

Not the orders.

Not the lockdown.

Him.

CHAPTER 2

TATEK

She is sleeping once more.

I remain motionless against the doorframe, arms crossed behind me, posture neutral. Stillness is strength. Inactivity is not inattention. I learned that before I could read the first glyph of my clan-script. My breath is low and slow, matched precisely to the tempo of the ventilation unit in the ceiling. External calm. Internal calculation.

I am a commander. A construct of precision. I have read the reports. I have memorized her file. I have studied her data like scripture—deviations, assignments, behavioral cadence, audit anomalies. The numbers tell me everything.

And still, she does not fit.

Her speech patterns fluctuate between aggression and intimacy, defensive deflection and irreverent charm. She curses with rhythm. She weaponizes humor. She shifts posture in ways that speak of military-adjacent training but no formal registration. Her heartbeat fluctuates when she lies—exceptwhen she lies about herself. Then it remains maddeningly stable. This suggests layered truth. Possibly self-deception.

I admire that in a variable.

But this—thispull—that is not admiration.

It is not observation.

It isjalshagar.