Page 18 of Naughty List Delivery
Twenty minutes later, I’m discovering that Tavia wasn’t exaggerating. Lividian hot chocolate is a revelation—rich and warming with complex undertones that make every sip a small celebration. The Storm family’s quarters are cozy despite the alien landscape visible through the viewports, decorated with handmade ornaments that speak to years of Christmas traditions maintained across impossible isolation.
“These are beautiful,” I tell Tavia, admiring a delicate crystal sculpture that catches the light in rainbow patterns.
“I made them from the mineral formations we extract during atmospheric processing!” She beams with pride. “Each one represents a different stage of the terraforming project. See? This one’s from year one when everything was still toxic. Andthis one’s from last month when we achieved our first stable oxygen pocket!”
“Tavia has remarkable artistic sensibilities,” Cetus says, his voice soft with paternal pride. “She finds beauty in the scientific process.”
“Papa says the most beautiful things happen when you apply pressure and heat to transform something broken into something better,” Tavia announces, then turns those bright yellow eyes on us with curious intensity. “Like how crystals form! Or how relationships evolve!”
Ober chokes on his hot chocolate. “Kid’s got a point.”
“She usually does,” Cetus admits with fond resignation. “Tavia has strong opinions about optimization and efficiency in all systems—atmospheric, mechanical, and interpersonal.”
“Speaking of interpersonal optimization,” Tavia continues with relentless eight-year-old logic, “are you two optimizing your obvious compatibility? Because your biosignatures suggest compatible attraction markers, but your spatial positioning indicates conflict avoidance patterns.”
Heat floods my face. “Tavia—”
“Papa says when grown-ups stand close but don’t touch, it usually means they want to but think they shouldn’t.” She tilts her head with scientific curiosity. “Are you conducting relationship experiments? Or are you already bonded but experiencing communication difficulties?”
“The second one,” Ober says quietly, and the honesty in his voice makes my chest tight. “We’re... figuring some things out.”
“Oh! Like recalibration procedures!” Tavia claps her hands together. “Papa and I do those with the atmospheric processors when the systems get out of sync. You have to identify the source of the interference, adjust the input parameters, and then test the new configuration under controlled conditions.”
“That’s... actually pretty good advice,” I manage.
“Thank you! Papa says I have intuitive understanding of complex system dynamics.” She pauses, studying us with those bright eyes. “Your primary interference pattern seems to be historic data conflicts affecting current operational parameters.”
“She means you’re letting the past mess with the present,” Cetus translates with a small smile.
“Exactly! But the beautiful thing about recalibration is that you can establish new operational baselines. Fresh start protocols!” Tavia bounces excitedly. “Like when Papa decided to stop avoiding social contact because he thought it would be ‘disruptive to domestic stability.’”
“Tavia,” Cetus warns, but his markings have gone fond yellow.
“What? It’s true! You spent three years thinking relationship variables would destabilize our family unit, but statistical analysis clearly indicated that stable adult partnerships actually improve environmental outcomes for dependent offspring!”
“Your daughter,” Ober tells Cetus with barely contained amusement, “is going to change the galaxy someday.”
“She already has,” Cetus says softly, reaching over to ruffle Tavia’s hair with gentle affection. “Every day.”
The family moment hits me unexpectedly hard, a sharp pang of longing for something I’ve never had but suddenly want desperately. The easy affection between father and daughter, the cozy Christmas traditions, the sense of home built across impossible distance.
“This is nice,” I say without thinking, then flush when everyone looks at me. “I mean... you’ve built something beautiful here. Despite the isolation.”
“Isolation can be an advantage,” Cetus says carefully. “Fewer variables to manage. Controlled environment. Predictable outcomes.”
“But also fewer opportunities for system enhancement through external input,” Tavia adds seriously. “Papa learnedthat optimal functioning requires both stability and adaptive growth through interaction with compatible systems.”
She says it so matter-of-factly, but I catch the way Ober’s attention sharpens. The way his dark eyes find mine across the small table, weighted with understanding that we’re talking about more than atmospheric processing.
“Smart kid,” he murmurs.
“Very smart,” I agree, but I’m looking at him instead of Tavia, drowning in the heat of his gaze and the growing awareness that sitting in this cozy family space with him feels dangerously like the future I’ve been afraid to want.
“Emergency alert,” Cetus announces suddenly, his attention shifting to a communication console that’s begun flashing urgent warnings. “Unidentified ship approaching Kepler system. Configuration unknown.”
The warm Christmas atmosphere vanishes as Ober and I snap into tactical mode, moving to the console with synchronized precision that makes Tavia’s eyes widen with delight.
“See? Perfect complementary response patterns!” she whispers to her father.
