Page 58 of Signed, Sealed, Seduced
“To be fair, it kind of was,” she points out. “The whole sabotage beacon thing.”
“Yes. But you were not.” I reach out, allowing myself the indulgence of tracing the line of her jaw with my fingertip. “You were... a variable I could not account for. An anomaly in an otherwise ordered existence.”
Her expression softens, the teasing light in her eyes replaced by something deeper. “Is that what I still am? An anomaly?”
“No.” The word emerges with more force than intended. “You are essential now. Integral. The variable has become the constant.”
She blinks rapidly, a human reaction to suppress emotional tears. “That might be the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me, and you’re using math terms.”
“They are accurate terms,” I insist, though I understand her amusement.
“They are,” she agrees, leaning into my touch. “And very you. Which is why I love them.” She pauses, her smile turning mischievous. “Almost as much as I love when you pretend not to enjoy the snow globe.”
Before I can formulate a suitable response, the chamber doors slide open again. This time, the visitor is Rusty, the ancient serving droid that has become nearly as much Suki’s shadow as it once was mine in my youth.
“Greetings, First Blade and Courier Vega,” the droid announces, its voice carrying the distinctive vocal patterns Suki programmed into it during one of her “improvements.” “This unit has prepared the evening meal as requested. Additionally, this unit has defeated Security Chief Krev in four consecutive games of Star-chess, resulting in what humans might term a ‘rage quit.’”
Suki’s laughter fills the chamber, bright and unrestrained. “Did he accuse you of cheating again?”
“Security Chief Krev suggested this unit’s processing capabilities have been ‘suspiciously enhanced beyond factoryspecifications,’” Rusty confirms, the lights on its chassis pulsing in what I have come to recognize as its version of amusement. “This unit reminded him that factory specifications became obsolete approximately three centuries ago, much like his tactical approach to both chess and perimeter security.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You antagonized the Security Chief deliberately.”
“This unit merely provided factual observations,” Rusty counters. “If Security Chief Krev chooses to interpret facts as antagonism, that is a processing error on his part.”
Suki’s grin threatens to split her face. “I’ve created a monster,” she says proudly. “A sassy, chess-playing monster who makes excellent tea.”
“The finest tea in Zater Reach,” I confirm, allowing a hint of my amusement to show. “Though perhaps with less commentary on the drinker’s strategic deficiencies.”
“The commentary is a feature, not a malfunction,” Suki insists, patting Rusty’s domed head affectionately. “Right, Rusty?”
“This unit’s social interaction protocols have been optimized for maximum effectiveness,” Rusty agrees. “Studies indicate that mild verbal sparring stimulates cognitive function and improves morale by 37.2%.”
“See? Science backs me up,” Suki declares triumphantly.
I shake my head, but there is no real disapproval in the gesture. The droid’s transformation under Suki’s care mirrors so many changes throughout the fortress—unexpected, occasionally disruptive, yet ultimately beneficial in ways I could not have predicted.
“Will you be dining in your chambers this evening, or would you prefer the observation deck?” Rusty inquires. “This unit has prepared for either scenario.”
Suki glances at me, a question in her eyes. It is a small thing, this deference to my preference, yet it touches me deeply. She,who challenges me at every turn, who has upended centuries of tradition with her human stubbornness, still pauses to consider my comfort in these small moments.
“The observation deck,” I decide. “The twin moons are aligned tonight.”
Her face brightens. “The crystal light show? I thought that wasn’t due for another week.”
“The astronomical calculations were adjusted,” I explain. “Vex’ra updated the predictive model based on your suggestions regarding gravitational variables.”
“She used my equations?” Suki sounds genuinely surprised. “Without being forced at gunpoint?”
“Indeed. She was... grudgingly impressed by their accuracy.” I offer my arm in a formal gesture that has become our private joke. “Shall we observe this victory together?”
She loops her arm through mine with exaggerated ceremony. “Lead on, First Blade. I wouldn’t miss Vex’ra admitting I was right for all the credits in the galaxy.”
Rusty precedes us, rolling toward the private lift that will take us to the observation deck. As the doors close behind us, Suki leans against me, her slight weight a comfort rather than a burden.
“You know,” she says thoughtfully, “three years ago, if someone had told me I’d be living in a fortress carved into an asteroid, redesigning alien security systems, and teaching ancient droids to play chess, I would have thought they were completely insane.”
“And now?” I ask, genuinely curious about her perspective on the life she has built here.
