Page 14 of Starlight, Starbright
“Like the asteroid field.”
“Exactly like the asteroid field.” I pull up my fluctuation data alongside the images. “Same MO. Create the problem, time it perfectly, make it look like system failure instead of sabotage.”
He reaches past me to point at a correlation on the screen, and his arm brushes mine. The contact is brief but I feel heat radiating through his uniform. Warmer than human normal. Not uncomfortable. Just different.
I should move. Give him space. But I don't.
“Here.” His finger traces a pattern in the data. “The power fluctuation that preceded the pump failure. Same signature as the others.”
“They're getting bolder.” I angle my tablet so we can both see. “First they tested the systems. Then the asteroid field. Now direct sabotage of life support. They're escalating.”
“Because we're investigating. They know we're closing in.” He turns his head, and suddenly his face is very close to mine. Close enough to see the individual silver lines tracing his temples, the intricate patterns branching along his throat. “I need someone I trust investigating alongside me. Someone with the technical expertise to understand what we're looking for.”
“You have me.” My voice is barely a whisper.
His eyes drop to my mouth for half a second before returning to meet my gaze. “Do I?”
The question hangs between us. Not asking about the investigation. Asking about something else entirely.
“I'm here, aren't I?” My voice sounds strange. “At 0230 hours. With evidence I could have documented and reported through channels. But I came to you first.”
“Why?”
“Because right now, you're the only person I completely trust with this.” I set my tablet down, needing something to do with my hands. “Because you believe me when no one else does. Because...”
I stop. The next words feel too honest. Too dangerous.
“Because?” He turns fully toward me now, and I realize how close we're standing. Less than a meter. Close enough to see the slight irregularities in his markings where they branch along his throat. Close enough to smell that unique scent I'm starting to associate with him. Something clean and electric, and beneath that, spice. Something distinctly not-human.
“Because when I'm with you, I don't feel alone in this.” The admission costs something. “Everyone else thinks I'm paranoid. Seeing threats where there aren't any. But you see them too. You understand.”
His hand rises slowly, giving me time to pull away. When I don't, his fingers brush my arm. Just above the elbow. Light enough that I could pretend it didn't happen. Except I feel that touch like a brand.
“You're not paranoid.” His voice has dropped lower. “You're observant. Brilliant. The only reason we're still alive is because you noticed what others missed.”
“You would have seen it eventually.”
“No.” The word is certain. “I was looking at data. You were looking at the ship. There's a difference.”
We're standing too close. I know this. Know I should step back. Put professional distance between us. But my body doesn't move. Instead, I find myself tilting my face up slightly, drawn by something I can't name.
His markings flood with gold. Pure, undeniable gold that lights the space between us.
“This is not appropriate,” he says, but he doesn't move away.
“No,” I agree. “It's not.”
Neither of us steps back.
I can see the exact moment he makes the decision. It's there in the way his eyes track from my eyes to my mouth and back. In the way he leans forward fractionally. In the way his hand slides from my arm to my waist, gentle but unmistakable.
I mirror the movement without thinking. My hand finds his chest, palm flat against the warm fabric of his uniform. I can feel his heart beating underneath. Fast. Faster than human normal.
“We shouldn't,” I whisper.
“No,” he agrees. His face is so close now that his breath moves my hair. “We shouldn't.”
But we're both still leaning in. Centimeters separating us. Then millimeters.
