Page 35 of Starlight, Starbright
And we have each other.
ZORIC
Christmas morning arrives with Paige asleep against my chest, her breathing steady and warm.
I've been awake for a while, watching the way early light from the viewport paints patterns across her face. Calculating the probability that this is real, that I didn't imagine last night, that she's actually here in my quarters after everything we survived.
The probability is 100%. The evidence is irrefutable. Yet some part of my analytical mind continues to question.
She stirs, her hand sliding across my chest, following the pattern of markings there. They brighten in response—gold spreading from where she touches. I've stopped trying to suppress the reaction. What's the purpose? She knows. She's seen. She's chosen me anyway.
“Morning,” she says against my shoulder, voice rough from sleep.
“Good morning.” I press a kiss to her hair, an action that still feels foreign but increasingly natural. “We should report to the bridge.”
“Should we?” She tilts her head back to look at me, amber striations in her dark eyes catching the light. “Or we could stay here and let Tanaka handle it.”
The temptation is significant. But duty remains duty, regardless of personal preferences. “The crew will notice our absence.”
“The crew definitely noticed us leaving together last night.” She traces a marking along my collarbone. “I think they have a pretty good idea where we are.”
“Then we confirm their conclusions by appearing together this morning.” I capture her hand, bringing it to my mouth. The gesture feels right even though my people don't typically express affection this way. “Officially.”
Her smile transforms her entire face. “Officially. I like that.”
We rise, shower separately for efficiency despite my strong desire to do otherwise, and dress in fresh uniforms. She produces a spare from her emergency locker—she's kept supplies here since the sabotage investigation intensified. The practical efficiency of it pleases me. The implication that she planned to stay here pleases me more.
I step through the bridge doors with Paige beside me, and the bridge goes quieter. The shift in attention is obvious.
Commander Tanaka rises from the captain's chair. “Captain. Chief Engineer. Good morning.”
“Commander.” I move to my station. Paige heads to the engineering console. Professional. Appropriate. Yet I can see everyone's elevated interest in our presence.
“Status report,” I request.
“All systems nominal, sir.” Tanaka pulls up the displays. “Final repair crews finished their work at 0600 hours. The Starbright grid is integrated and stable. Life support, navigation, shields—everything's operating at optimal levels.” She pauses. “Better than optimal, actually. Chief Martin's modifications during the crisis improved efficiency across multiple systems.”
“Noted for the official record.” I review the data streams. Everything she's said is accurate. The Polaris not only survived, but emerged stronger. “Damage assessment?”
“Minimal. Some cosmetic repairs needed in the outer hull sections. Nothing that affects operations.” Tanaka's expression remains neutral, but I detect satisfaction underneath. “We're ahead of schedule for reaching our destination.”
“Excellent work, Commander.” I turn to address the bridge. “All stations, the crisis is officially concluded. Security Chief Hale's investigation has secured a full confession from Walsh Burton. He acted alone, motivated by ideological opposition to integrated command structures. His sabotage program has been completely eliminated from our systems.”
Several crew members glance at Paige, then back to me. The implication is clear: her warnings were correct. Her investigation saved us. I see the shift in perception happening in real time.
The bridge doors open. Tobias Hale enters, moving directly to my position. “Captain, the prisoner's confession has been recorded and filed. I've prepared the full report for your review.”
“Thank you, Security Chief.” I accept the data file. “Your work throughout this crisis has been exemplary.”
“Just doing my job, sir.” He turns to face the bridge crew, his posture formal. “I want to make a statement for the record. The captain and chief engineer's coordination under pressure saved ten thousand lives. Their competence is beyond question. Anyone who suggests otherwise can bring their concerns to me personally.”
The challenge in his voice is unmistakable. Several crew members straighten. Morris nods firmly. Even Fletcher at navigation, whom I've observed maintaining suspicious distance from both Paige and myself, looks thoughtful rather than hostile.
“Noted,” I say. “Thank you, Security Chief.”
Tobias nods once and leaves. The bridge settles into working rhythm, but something has shifted. Not complete acceptance—some crew members still maintain careful distance, still radiate discomfort with the situation. But the open hostility has diminished. A beginning, as the outline suggested. Not an ending, but a beginning.
I catch Paige's eye across the bridge. She smiles, quick and private. Later, I promise myself. Later we can be unprofessional.
