Page 21 of Signed, Sealed, Seduced
Her directness continues to catch me off-guard. Most beings—even my own kind—approach me with careful deference, weighing each word for potential offense. Suki speaks as if we are equals. As if my rank, my species, my very nature are incidental rather than defining.
It is... refreshing. Disruptive, but refreshing.
“Both,” I answer, surprising myself with the admission. “Your ship has been moved to our repair bay. The damage was... significant.”
Her hands still. “How significant?”
“The gravitational anomaly damaged your primary drive core and navigation system. Our engineers estimate three days for essential repairs.”
“Three days?” She sets down her tools, frustration evident in the set of her shoulders. “I can’t be stuck here for three days. I have deliveries scheduled in the Venturian sector next week.”
“The alternative would be to leave your vessel behind and arrange transport on the next diplomatic shuttle,” I offer, knowing she will refuse. The attachment between this courier and her ship is evident.
As expected, she shakes her head firmly. “Not happening. The Rust Bucket is mine. I’m not abandoning her.”
“Then three days is the minimum.” I rise to my full height, extending a hand to assist her. “Come. I will show you the damage yourself, and you may inspect your package as promised.”
She eyes my offered hand with momentary suspicion before accepting it. Her palm is small against mine, callused in places that speak of manual labor and hard-earned skill. I lift her effortlessly, careful of my strength.
Once standing, she quickly withdraws her hand, as if the contact burns. Perhaps for her, it does. Zaterran body temperature runs higher than that of humans.
“Let me just...” She gestures to the partially reassembled droid. “I should at least close him up so nothing gets lost.”
I watch as she efficiently secures the droid’s components, her movements economical and practiced. There is something compelling about competence, regardless of the task. In battle, I have witnessed warriors with natural grace, their every moveprecise and purposeful. Suki displays that same quality now, in this mundane act of repair.
“There.” She steps back, surveying her work. “He’ll need more attention later, but at least he won’t lose any parts while I’m gone.”
“You intend to complete the repair?” I ask, curious about her investment in a device she encountered only hours ago.
She shrugs again, that casual gesture that somehow conveys volumes. “Seems a shame to leave him broken when I can fix him. Besides, what else am I going to do for three days? Stare at the walls?”
There is something in her tone—a hint of vulnerability beneath the practiced nonchalance. She is uncomfortable with idleness, I realize. Perhaps even fears it.
“There are other diversions available,” I tell her as we exit her quarters. The guards fall into position behind us, maintaining a respectful distance. “The fortress contains training facilities, meditation chambers, and an extensive knowledge archive.”
She snorts, a sound I’m beginning to associate with her particular brand of skepticism. “Right. Because what every girl wants on vacation is a good workout, some quiet contemplation, and homework.”
“This is not a vacation,” I remind her, though I suspect she knows this well.
“Trust me, Henrock, no one is more aware of that than me.” She glances up at me, a challenge in her gaze. “So, are we taking the scenic route to the repair bay, or is there a reason we’re heading toward what looks suspiciously like an observation deck?”
Her spatial awareness is impressive. We are indeed approaching one of the fortress’s upper observation platforms, though I had not announced our destination. I feel a muscle twitch near my jaw at her deliberate mispronunciation of myname—again. The human knows perfectly well how to say it correctly, yet persists in this small rebellion. It should not affect me. It does.
“Your ship and package will wait another hour,” I say, not entirely certain why I’ve altered our course. “There is something you should see first.”
Her eyebrows rise, but she follows without further comment as I lead her through a series of ascending corridors. The guards remain at the last junction, understanding without instruction that their presence is not required for this detour.
We emerge onto a crystalline platform extending from the fortress’s upper levels. The transparent floor and ceiling create the illusion of standing suspended in space, with only a narrow walkway of solid obsidian providing psychological reassurance against the void below.
Suki’s breath catches audibly as she takes in the view. Beyond the platform, the twin moons of Zater Reach hang low on the horizon, their surfaces scarred from ancient mining operations. Between them, the first flickers of an approaching ion storm illuminate the nebula’s swirling gases in shades of violet and deep crimson.
“Oh my stars,” she whispers, moving to the edge of the platform. “That’s... I’ve never seen anything like it.”
I stand beside her, watching her face rather than the familiar vista. Her expression is open, wonder replacing the guarded wariness she typically displays. The storm’s approaching light plays across her features, highlighting the unusual patterns on her skin—freckles, I believe they’re called. Like constellations mapped across her face.
“The ion storm approaches from the Outer Reach,” I explain, returning my gaze to the horizon. “It will pass directly through the asteroid belt, creating what my people call the Breath of Shattered Stars.”
“It’s beautiful,” she says simply.
