Page 35

Chapter

Thirty-Five

Morgan

" I hope you don't think this is macabre," I said, arranging the last of the hydration packs into a neat row on the floor beside the ration pouches, "but I need to know exactly how long we can survive on what we have."

Tivek sat across from me on the hard floor behind the cockpit area and between the facing rows of jump seats, our emergency supplies spread between us like some bizarre picnic. His usually perfect posture had relaxed slightly, though his eyes remained sharp as they scanned our inventory.

"Not macabre," he replied. "Practical." He gestured rows. "We're fortunate this vessel was fully stocked."

I nodded, tallying the numbers in my head. "By my count, we have enough food for..." I did the quick calculation, "almost fifteen days, if we're careful with portions."

What I didn't say was that our oxygen recyclers would likely fail long before we ran out of food, or that the water reclamation system was designed for short missions, not prolonged survival situations.

My mind was already running multiple scenarios, each grimmer than the last, but I forced those thoughts aside.

No point in voicing every dark possibility.

"We'll be fine," I said with more conviction than I felt, arranging the ration packs by calorie content, which was another pointless task to keep my hands busy. "We just need to make the best of it until we figure out a way to contact the Academy or repair the jump drive."

Staying positive had always been my biggest challenge. At the Academy, the other Assassins often joked that I could find the fatal flaw in any plan, the weakness in any strategy. It had made me an excellent student, but I was finding it was not always the most comforting trait on missions.

"Morgan?" Tivek's voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. "Are you alright?"

I realized I'd been pressing my lips together so tightly they'd gone numb. With a sigh, I met his gaze. "Sorry. I'm a worrier. Always have been. My brain automatically jumps to worst-case scenarios. It’s like I can't help running contingency plans for things that might never happen."

I knew it probably came from a childhood where I’d had to constantly worry if there would be enough.

Most kids looked forward to summer breaks, but I’d always dreaded them because then lunch was one more meal I had to worry about.

I blew out a breath and tried to exhale all those memories.

I was no longer a child, and I’d survived that. I would survive this.

The corner of Tivek's mouth quirked up. "That's probably what makes you exceptional at strategy. You see problems before they arise."

His understanding loosened something tight in my chest. "Thanks for not thinking I'm a drag."

"I could never think that," he said, his voice dropping lower.

A strange warmth spread through me at his words. I cleared my throat, suddenly needing to break the intimacy of the moment. "Well, since we've established we're not going to starve anytime soon, we might as well eat something."

I grabbed a ration pack labeled "Protein Flavor Profile Five" while Tivek selected one marked "Protein Flavor Profile Seven." We exchanged glances as we tore open the packaging.

"The Drexians may excel at military technology," I said, sniffing the grayish contents dubiously, "but they really need to work on their marketing."

Tivek raised an eyebrow. "What would you suggest?"

"They need to hire whoever names nail polish colors," I said, poking at my food with the all-in-one utensil taped to the packet. "Then instead of 'Protein Flavor Profile Five,' I could be eating 'Spicy Sensation' or 'Cosmic Delight.'"

Tivek's laugh echoed in the small space. "Nail polish colors? What is nail polish?”

"You know, the little bottles of paint humans use to color their nails?" I wiggled my fingers at him. "They always have these ridiculously flowery names. 'Midnight Serenade,' 'Berry Passion,' 'Ocean Whisper'—never just 'Red Number Three' or 'Blue Variant B.'"

The confusion on his face was priceless. "You name paint for your nails?"

"Not me personally," I clarified, fighting a smile. "The companies that make them."

"And they require such curious and nonsensical labels?”

"Absolutely essential," I said with mock seriousness. "No self-respecting human would paint their nails with something called 'Purple Pigment.'"

He shook his head, still looking baffled, which only made me laugh harder. There was something endearing about watching the eternally composed Tivek struggling to comprehend something as frivolous as nail polish names.

We both took tentative bites of our rations, and I couldn't suppress a grimace at the bland, slightly mealy texture.

"Not exactly 'Culinary Ecstasy,'" I muttered.

Tivek made a face that suggested his "Protein Flavor Profile Seven" wasn't any better. "It's nutritionally complete, at least."

"High praise indeed."

We ate in companionable silence for a few moments, the gentle hum of the ship's life support system the only sound beyond our breathing and chewing.

It was strange how comfortable it felt, sitting cross-legged on the floor with him, surrounded by emergency rations, lost somewhere in uncharted space.

"I'm sorry," Tivek said suddenly, setting down his half-eaten packet. "That you're in this situation, that is.”

I shrugged, trying to keep my tone light. "Not your fault the jump drive malfunctioned."

"Still," he insisted, "you wouldn't be here if you hadn't come with me to this ship.”

"Could be worse," I said, surprising myself with how much I meant it. "I've definitely been on worse dates, even considering 'Protein Flavor Profile Five.'"

As soon as the words left my mouth, I wanted to snatch them back. Tivek's eyes widened slightly, and heat rushed to my face.

"Not that this is a date," I backpedaled quickly. "I didn't mean to imply?—"

"I'd like it to be," he interrupted, his voice quiet but steady.

My mouth opened, then closed again without producing words.

"A date," he clarified, as if I might have misunderstood. "If you're amenable."

I stared at him, trying to determine if he was serious. His expression was earnest, missing its usual mask of perfect neutrality.

"You want to call this a date?" I finally managed. "Stranded in space, eating terrible rations?"

"The circumstances aren't ideal," he admitted, "but the company is exceptional."

I narrowed my eyes. "You're not just…I mean, we're in a high-pressure situation. We’ve been in one intense situation after another during this mission. Is that why you kissed me, first in the dungeon and then in the med bay?”

A genuine smile spread across his face, transforming his features. "Morgan, if I were in the habit of kissing people simply because they were around during intense moments, I would have kissed the Admiral many times by now."

The mental image made me burst out laughing, tension unwinding from my shoulders. "Now there's a thought."

"One I'd rather not dwell on," Tivek said dryly. "The truth is, I've been intrigued by you since the first moment I saw you at the academy.”

“Really?”

“You are clever and observant,” he said, his eyes holding mine with an intensity that made my pulse quicken. “I noticed you almost immediately, and I have been observing you from afar.”

I felt heat creeping up my neck. "You have? I didn’t know.”

He sniffed. “Shadows are trained to conceal their interests and desires."

"And now?" I asked, suddenly bold. "Are you still concealing?"

His gaze was intense as he held mine. Then he looked away quickly and snapped his fingers. “I just remembered something.”