Page 13

Mira kicked off the thin blanket, overwhelmed by a fresh wave of heat.

Exhaustion tugged at her, but whenever she closed her eyes, the scene replayed with vivid clarity the intensity in his gaze, the rasp of his stubble against her palm, the hunger in his kiss.

And in sleep, her mind eagerly continued where Covak's interruption had ended.

Those dreams... She pressed her hands to her burning cheeks, mortified by the phantom sensations still lingering on her skin. In the darkness of her quarters, she'd woken gasping, his name a half-formed whisper on her lips, the evidence of her arousal impossible to ignore.

Stars, had anyone heard her? The walls on the Dream weren't exactly soundproof. The thought sent a fresh wave of embarrassment through her.

The chronometer on her bedside table flashed 05:47. No point trying to sleep now. The ship's morning cycle would start soon anyway.

With a defeated sigh, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed. The metal floor sent a shock of cold through her bare feet, grounding her in the present. Time to face whatever the day held.

Spot chirped from the corner, where he'd spent the night in low-power mode.

She knew he was a robot, but she hadn t been able to leave him on the cold floor.

He looked at her from the little nest he d made of her spare blanket.

The drakeen core's optical sensors illuminated, tracking her movements as she shuffled toward the compact unit that passed for a hygiene facility on board.

"Morning, Spot," she mumbled, her voice rough from lack of sleep.

The robot chirped again, more insistently this time, sensors flashing in what she'd come to recognize as concern.

"I'm fine. Just... didn't sleep well." She forced a smile as a cold shower erased the last physical traces of her dreams, if not the memories.

Dressed in her combat fatigues, she stared at her reflection in the small mirror.

Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and her complexion appeared paler than usual.

Great. She looked exactly like someone who'd spent the night fantasizing about a crewmate.

Spot clicked against the deck plates, circling her legs impatiently.

"Hungry?" she asked, grabbing a hair tie to secure her hair into its usual messy bun. "Let's go find you a power node."

The corridor outside her quarters remained mercifully empty.

She kept her head down and her stride purposeful as she made her way toward the galley.

Inside her head, she rehearsed possible scenarios for her inevitable encounter with Davis.

Would he regret what happened? Pretend it never occurred?

Want to talk about it? The possibilities tumbled through her mind, each more mortifying than the last.

"It's not a big deal," she whispered to herself, the words hollow. "Just a kiss. People kiss all the time."

Spot chirped skeptically, tapping along beside her.

"You're right," she conceded. "It wasn't 'just a kiss.' It was..." She trailed off, unable to find suitable words.

The sound of voices grew louder as they approached the galley. Laughter and the clatter of plates echoed down the corridor, along with the enticing aroma of something sweet cooking.

Her steps faltered. She wasn't ready to face everyone just yet. Especially not him. Maybe she should skip breakfast, head straight to her sim rig in engineering...

Spot prodded her leg, pushing her forward.

"Traitor," she muttered, but carried on walking.

The galley doors slid open with a hiss that felt impossibly loud. Conversation stuttered momentarily, then resumed as the crew registered her presence. She scanned the room quickly, her heart hammering.

There. Davis stood across the room, leaning against the far counter with a mug of something in his hand.

Her breath caught as she saw him. He wore a tight-fitting shirt that accentuated the defined muscles of his chest and arms, the fabric stretching across broad shoulders.

His dark hair was slightly damp, suggesting a recent shower, and he hadn't shaved.

Stubble darkened his jaw, making him look ruggedly handsome in a way that sent an involuntary flutter through her stomach.

She forced her eyes away from his face, only to frown. He d only been injured yesterday, but she couldn t see any bandages or dressings under the thin material of his shirt.

He didn't look up when she entered. In fact, he seemed to be deliberately focusing on his drink, as if the contents of his mug held the secrets of the universe.

She swallowed against the lump in her throat. So that was his approach. Ignore it, and her, completely. Like she didn't exist. Like last night hadn't happened.

Fine . She could play that game too.

Rann stood at the galley's main cooking station, managing multiple pans with surprising grace.

Stacks of golden-brown pancakes piled high on a serving platter beside him.

Jesh and Covak were already seated, sharing a plate piled high with the breakfast treats.

Ryke sat alone at the far end, reading from a datapad while methodically working through his own stack.

"Morning," Mira offered, her voice cracking slightly. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Morning, everyone."

A chorus of mumbled responses greeted her, ranging from Ryke's curt nod to Covak's grin.

The Vorrtan's eyes sparkled with barely contained amusement as they flickered between her and Davis.

Heat crawled up her neck, but she forced herself to walk normally to the beverage dispenser, as if nothing were amiss.

Spot scuttled beside her, examining the galley's various power outlets and finally settling on one near the base of the counter. The drakeen core plugged in with a satisfied chirp, sensors dimming slightly in contentment. Obviously, the power in here tasted better than it did in her quarters.

"Sleep well?" Covak asked innocently.

Jesh elbowed him sharply in the ribs. The blow would have fractured bones in a normal being, but the massive Vorrtan merely grunted, his grin widening.

"Fine, thanks," Mira lied, focusing intently on programming the beverage dispenser in the middle of the table for Terran coffee, extra strong.

"Another mouth to feed, I see," Rann grumbled as he glanced up from his cooking. "Sit down before you fall down, female."

She startled at being directly addressed. "Oh, you don't have to... I can make something for myself. I don't want to impose."

The big pilot waved a spatula dismissively. "Already cooking. Makes no difference now."

She hesitated, caught between the desire to flee and the genuine hunger gnawing at her stomach. "If you're sure..."

"I said sit." He pointed the spatula toward an empty seat, a smile in his eyes.

She picked a spot away from Davis, but she could still see him from the corner of her eye. His shoulders had tensed at the exchange, though he still hadn't looked up.

Rann finished a fresh batch, sliding them onto a plate before depositing it in front of her with a flourish. The pancakes steamed invitingly, golden-brown and perfectly formed, the scent making her mouth water and her stomach rumble.

"Thank you," she said, genuinely grateful.

He shrugged. "Not many humans appreciate the finer points of Latharian cuisine," he said with a wink, surprising her. He was usually a lot more reserved.

Before she could reply, Davis slammed his mug down, the contents splashing over the rim as he pushed away from the counter.

"Stay away from her," he snarled, stalking toward Rann with deadly intent.

The room froze. Mira's fork clattered against her plate, forgotten.

Rann straightened to his full height, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his features before his expression settled into something more controlled. "What?"

"You heard me." Davis's voice had dropped to a dangerous register she'd never heard before, the words clipped and sharp as blades. "Back. The fuck. Off. Now ."

Rann's brow furrowed, genuine confusion replacing his earlier amusement. "Tell, what the hell are you -"

Davis grabbed Rann by the front of his shirt, slamming the much larger Latharian against the cooking station. Cookware clattered to the deck as Davis's forearm pressed against Rann's throat.

"Davis!" Mira gasped, half-rising from her seat.

"Tell!" Ryke barked, on his feet instantly. "Stand down!"

Davis ignored them both, his focus entirely on Rann, who made no move to defend himself beyond raising his hands in a placating gesture.

"You don't touch her. You don't look at her. You don't even breathe in her direction," Davis growled, pressing his forearm harder into Rann s throat. "Understood?"

Covak crossed the room in two strides to grab Davis by the shoulders, attempting to pull him away.

"That's enough," Covak said, voice firm but controlled. "Let him go, Tell."

Fuck off, Covak. Davis tried to shrug him off, muscles straining against the Vorrtan's superior strength, still glaring at Rann. This is between me and him.

Jesh appeared at Davis's other side. Her slim hand closed around Davis's wrist with cybernetically enhanced strength.

"Davis," she said quietly, the single word carrying unmistakable authority. "Release him."

For one terrifying moment, she thought he would refuse. His entire body vibrated with barely contained violence, chest heaving with each breath, and his expression almost feral with rage.

Whatever.

Davis released Rann, shoving the pilot hard against the counter before stepping back. His gaze swept the room, landing briefly on her. Something flickered across his features before his expression hardened.

Without a word, he turned on his heel and stalked out of the galley.

Silence descended on the galley, thick and uncomfortable. Rann straightened, rubbing his throat.

"What the fuck was that about? Ryke demanded.

Covak whistled low. "Well," he drawled, breaking the tension, "that was dramatic."

"Is everyone okay?" Mira asked, her voice small as she looked between Rann and the doorway Davis had disappeared through.

Rann nodded. "Fine. Tell hits like a human."

"Give the man a break. Covak snorted. He took an energy bolt to the chest yesterday."

"Speaking of which," Jesh turned to Covak, how is he healing? He s human; that shot should have kept him down for a while.

"Completely healed," Covak replied, returning to his seat. "Never seen anything like it. Applied the new regenerative compound I've been working on, and it closed up by morning."

Mira's mind whirled. That explained the lack of bandages, but not his bizarre behavior.

"I should go check on him," she said, already pushing back from the table.

No, Ryke cut in, his tone making it clear this was an order, not a suggestion. "Give him space to cool down. That wasn't normal, even for Tell."

"But-"

"He attacked a crewmate with no provocation," Ryke continued, fixing her with a look. "I need to understand why before I let anyone near him."

Jesh tilted her head, studying her with disconcerting intensity. "Did anything unusual happen during your monitoring shift last night?"

Heat flooded her cheeks. "N-no," she stammered. "Nothing unusual."

Covak's snort drew all eyes to him. The Vorrtan suddenly became very interested in his remaining pancakes.

"Covak?" Ryke prompted. You got something to say?

Nope, Covak replied, shoveling pancakes into his mouth. "Patient care is confidential, you know."

Mira stared down at her untouched pancakes, appetite gone. Spot chirped at her feet, disconnecting from the power node to nudge her leg supportively.

Ryke's gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he turned to Rann. "You want to file a complaint?"

Nah. Rann shook his head, already returning to the cooking station. "No harm done. I've been dealing with hotheads for years, you included. Tell's got something else going on."

"That's not an excuse," Ryke replied.

"Didn't say it was," Rann shrugged. "Just saying there's more to it."

Mira pushed her plate away and stood. "I should go. Thank you for breakfast."

No one tried to stop her as she fled the galley, Spot skittering after her. The little robot chirped encouragingly, matching her hurried pace down the corridor.

She had no destination in mind; she simply needed to be away from everyone. What had gotten into Davis? The man who'd kissed her last night, who'd looked at her with such intensity, such hunger, seemed completely different from the enraged person who'd attacked Rann over a simple wink.

A wink. Was that it? Was he...

Jealous?

The thought seemed absurd. Davis Tell, protective of her? The same man who couldn't even look at her this morning?

She slowed her pace, suddenly uncertain. Where was she even going?

The training deck was empty, with everyone else in the galley and Jex presumably in the unused cargobay that served as his quarters. She slipped inside, the doors closing behind her with a reassuring hiss. Spot trotted along at her heels, sensors swiveling as he assessed the large, open space.

She sank down on a bench, burying her face in her hands. What was happening? First the kiss in the medbay, then the cold shoulder at breakfast, followed by that explosive confrontation. None of it made sense.

Spot chirped inquisitively, climbing onto the bench beside her.

"I don't know," she answered the unspoken question. "But something's very wrong with Davis. And I have no idea what."