Page 61 of Signed, Sealed, Seduced
“The formal bonding ceremony is somewhat less dramatic,” I inform her. “Though there is a traditional exchange of crystalline tokens, symbolizing the fusion of separate lives into a unified whole.”
“That sounds... actually kind of nice,” she admits. “As long as I don’t have to wear one of those ceremonial robes. They weigh more than I do.”
“Accommodations can be made for your human physiology,” I assure her, already mentally cataloging the traditional elements that can be modified without losing their significance. “The essence of the ritual is the commitment, not the specific form it takes.”
“Look at you, being all flexible with tradition,” she says proudly. “The old you would have insisted on every obscure detail being followed to the letter.”
“The old me did not understand the value of adaptation,” I acknowledge. “Of seeing beyond the form to the purpose beneath.”
“And the new you?”
I consider her question seriously, aware of its importance. “The new me understands that strength lies not in rigidity, but in knowing when to bend. When to transform. When to allow a variable to redefine the equation.”
Her smile is like the dawn breaking over the asteroid belt—gradual, then suddenly brilliant. “I love you,” she says simply. “All versions of you. The stoic warlord, the reluctant diplomat, the secret snow globe enthusiast. All of you.”
“And I, you,” I reply, the words inadequate to express the depth of what I feel, yet all I have to offer. “All that I am is yours.”
Beyond the viewport, the cosmic alignment reaches its conclusion, the moons beginning their slow separation. The spectacular light show fades gradually, returning the observation deck to its normal illumination. Yet something of the wonder remains, captured in the moment we have shared.
Rusty, who has been discreetly silent during our exchange, now approaches with what appears to be two crystal goblets on its serving tray.
“This unit has prepared a traditional Zaterran bonding toast,” the droid announces. “As is customary for such declarations of intent.”
Suki accepts a goblet, eyeing the shimmering liquid within. “How did you know? We just decided this ourselves.”
“This unit has been calculating the probability of this outcome for approximately two years, seven months, and thirteen days,” Rusty informs her. “The statistical likelihood reached 99.7%this evening when the First Blade chose the observation deck for dining despite three pending security reports requiring his attention.”
I accept the second goblet, raising an eyebrow at the droid’s presumption. “Your predictive algorithms have improved significantly.”
“This unit has had excellent teachers,” Rusty responds, its lights pulsing in what can only be described as smugness. “Additionally, this unit has been practicing the traditional bonding hymn, should you require musical accompaniment for the occasion.”
“Maybe later, Rusty,” Suki says quickly, clearly remembering the droid’s unique interpretation of Venturian poetry. “Let’s start with the toast.”
I raise my goblet, meeting her gaze over the rim. “To transformation,” I offer. “And to constants amid change.”
“To finding home in the last place I expected,” she counters, her eyes bright with emotion. “And to all the seven-years-from-nows we’ll share.”
We drink together, the crystal liquid warming a path from throat to heart. It tastes of possibility, of futures yet unwritten, of a path we will walk side by side.
As we lower our goblets, I see something shift in her expression—a deepening of the emotion that has been building throughout the evening. The formal words have been spoken, the commitment made, but there is more that needs saying. More that needs showing.
“Rusty,” I say quietly, not taking my eyes from Suki’s face. “You may retire for the evening. We will not require further assistance.”
“Understood, First Blade,” the droid responds, its voice carrying the tactful discretion I remember from my youth. “This unit will ensure your privacy is maintained.” It glides toward theexit, then pauses. “And... congratulations. This unit is... pleased by this development.”
The doors close behind him, leaving us alone under the star-filled dome. The ambient lighting has dimmed to its nighttime cycle, casting everything in soft shadow and starlight.
“So,” Suki says, her voice suddenly quiet. “We’re engaged.”
“We are,” I confirm, setting my goblet aside. “How does it feel?”
She considers this, her head tilted in that way that means she’s thinking seriously about her answer. “Like everything just clicked into place. Like I’ve been waiting my whole life for this moment without knowing it.” She laughs softly. “Also terrifying. But in a good way.”
I move closer, drawn by the wonder in her voice. “Terrifying?”
“Not you,” she clarifies quickly. “Never you. Just... the enormity of it. Forever is a long time, especially when you’re talking about alien lifespans. You’re going to be stuck with me for a very, very long time.”
“There is nowhere else I would rather be,” I tell her, reaching for her hands. “No one else I would rather be... stuck with.”
