Zaria leaned closer to the holographic star map, her brow furrowing as she scrutinized the array of shimmering celestial bodies. The gas giant drifted lazily within the projection, its massive form just slightly off alignment. The subtle imperfection prickled at her sense of order, a detail out of place in an otherwise flawless dance of orbits.
She extended her hand, fingers brushing the edge of the glowing map. The image rippled in response, light bending like water under her touch. With a precise flick of her wrist, the gas giant shifted, its orbit adjusting a fraction. Still, it wasn’t quite right. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she tilted her head, studying the new configuration.
From across the room, a soft chitter broke the silence. Zaria turned, her eyes finding Walter as he darted through the network of transparent tunnels lining her lab walls. His sleek white fur glowed faintly under the soft light of the projection, and his pink eyes gleamed with curiosity. He paused, nose twitching as if he were contemplating the star map himself.
“What do you think, Walter?” Zaria asked, her voice light but tinged with concentration.
Walter tilted his head, whiskers quivering. A tiny paw tapped against the tunnel wall as if he were offering his opinion. Zaria’s tense expression softened into a smile.
“Knew you’d agree,” she said, turning back to the projection. Her fingers moved swiftly now, sliding stars and planets into place with practiced ease. The gas giant settled into its proper orbit, and a satisfying hum signaled the alignment was correct.
Behind her, Walter scrambled up a vertical tube with an excited series of chirps, his playful energy filling the quiet lab. Zaria chuckled, the sound lightening the air. She straightened, stepping back to admire her work. The star map glowed softly in the dim room, a miniature galaxy she could reach out and touch.
Her gaze flicked back to Walter, who had sprawled on his side in the uppermost tunnel, one tiny paw dangling lazily as he watched her. “You’re the best lab partner I’ve ever had,” she said with a smirk. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
Walter let out a low squeak in reply, as if to say, ‘Too late.’
The glow of the holographic star map bathed Zaria’s lab in a serene light, the soft hum of the system blending with the faint clicks of Walter’s claws as he darted through his enclosure. The labyrinth of clear tunnels lined the walls, Walter’s curious head popping up occasionally to watch her work. He chittered, his whiskers twitching with what Zaria could only describe as amused impatience.
She glanced over at him and smirked. “What? You think these planets align themselves?” she teased, adjusting the projection with a flick of her fingers. The gas giant on the map shifted slightly, and she tilted her head, scrutinizing the adjustment. “Better. But it’s still off.” She swiped again, frowning as the orbit snapped into place. “There. Perfect.”
Walter responded with another chitter, scrambling to the next tunnel section to watch her from a new angle. She couldn’t help but laugh softly. “See? This is why I keep you around. You’re the only one who appreciates precision.”
In this small corner of the USS Horizon Seeker, Zaria felt at peace. The vastness of space, the logic of the stars—it all made sense here. Walter’s antics grounded her, a flicker of warmth against the cold, methodical reality of the cosmos. She stretched, letting herself sink into the comforting rhythm of the data, equations, and constellations. Here, she didn’t need to decode social cues or navigate awkward pauses.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
The memory of the crew lounge crept into her mind, unbidden but vivid.
She stood just outside the threshold of the bustling room, her datapad clutched like a lifeline. The conversations inside were animated, their energy tangible even from a distance. Crew members lounged on chairs, leaning casually against tables, their laughter punctuating the hum of casual chatter.
Zaria took a deep breath, steeling herself. She stepped into the room, her boots clicking against the floor. “Did you know,” she began, her voice cutting through the noise, “that the spectral analysis of Kepler-442b suggests it might have high concentrations of nickel in its crust? Fascinating implications for planetary development, don’t you think?”
The lively chatter screeched to a halt. Heads turned toward her, eyes blinking with collective confusion. A couple of crew members exchanged glances, their eyebrows raising in silent communication.
Zaria shifted on her feet, tilting her head as she tried to understand their reaction. “No? Not interesting?” she asked, genuinely perplexed. “Well, nickel plays a significant role in magnetic field generation, which could mean—”
“Uh, thanks, Zaria,” someone interrupted with an awkward chuckle, their smile polite but strained. “But we were just talking about the game last night.”
“The game,” she repeated, her tone thoughtful as she tried to adjust. “Right. Sports.” She paused, fumbling for a connection. “Did the players demonstrate optimal trajectory physics when throwing the ball?”
Her attempt at engagement was met with laughter—not warm or inviting, but sharp, with an undercurrent of discomfort. “Classic Zaria,” someone muttered under their breath, the words cutting through the air like a blade.
Her cheeks burned, but she pushed forward, determined to salvage the interaction. “Actually, if you consider the aerodynamics of a standard game ball—”
The glazed look in the eyes of the nearest crew member was unmistakable. They nodded absently, their polite smiles masking their retreat into mental safe zones. Slowly, the group dispersed, their conversations picking up again as they distanced themselves.
Zaria sank into a chair in the corner of the lounge, gripping her datapad tightly. “Why talk about trivial games,” she muttered, pulling up her latest star map, “when there are literal galaxies to discuss?”
The burst of laughter from the far end of the room drew her attention. Someone was telling a joke—something about a space mechanic and an engine part. She perked up, trying to catch the punchline.
Her brow furrowed as she analyzed it. “That doesn’t even make sense,” she murmured, her voice low. “The torque ratios wouldn’t allow for that kind of—”
She stopped herself mid-thought, the futility of it settling in. The stars, at least, never required her to explain herself. With a sigh, she refocused on her map. Socializing, like humor, seemed hopelessly illogical.
Back in the present, Zaria blinked, brushing off the memory like dust from her sleeve. Walter chirped, pulling her attention back to his enclosure. He perched on his hind legs, his bright eyes fixed on her, as if to say, Forget them. We’ve got work to do.
She smiled softly, her fingers returning to the holographic map. “Yeah, you’re right, Walter. The stars are much easier to deal with.”