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Her eyes flick to me, skepticism mingling with a hint of surprise. “Fine.” She thrusts a toolkit into my hands. “Make yourself useful.”
I dive in alongside her, tools in hand. My business acumen may be where I excel, but I haven’t forgotten my early days of working in my father’s machine shop. Together, we work on the damaged panel, her rapid instructions blending seamlessly with my actions.
“Hand me the voltmeter.”
I pass it to her swiftly. “Here.”
She examines the readings quickly before barking another command. “We need to reroute power through these conduits.” Her fingers point to a tangle of wires.
We work in tandem—her precision matching my efficiency. Despite our differences, our movements sync as if choreographed.
My internal monologue takes over: We work well together. Too well. This complicates things.
She glances at me again, and for a split second, our eyes lock. There’s something there—something neither of us is ready to admit.
With a final adjustment to the wiring, the alarms cease, and the room falls into an uneasy silence. The crew lets out a collective breath of relief as Cordelia inspects our handiwork.
“Crisis averted.”
“Nice work.” I offer genuinely.
Her expression softens for just a moment before she catches herself and hardens again. “Don’t get too comfortable.”
“Peterson, sit rep in 20, my office. I want everyone there. Call in off-duty. Have a report ready on this incident and also the leak from turnaround day. I want answers and nobody goes off duty today until I have them. Clear?”
“Aye Chief.”
“Davies, get on the horn to the bridge now. Give them the all-clear. Update the Captain and let her know I’m on my way to report in person. Clear?”
“Everyone, clear?”
“Aye Chief!” echoes around the crowded room, which empties in moments as the crew disperse to follow their orders, leaving Cordelia and me alone amidst the humming machinery.
“So…” I lean against a nearby console as the adrenaline rush fades from my body. “Do you always play superhero during malfunctions?”
She raises an eyebrow at me but doesn’t respond immediately. The space between us is charged—like static before a storm.
Her lips curl into a reluctant smile as she finally speaks again: “Only when necessary.”
And just like that, we’re back to where we started—two opposing forces drawn together by circumstance yet kept apart by secrets neither is willing to fully reveal... yet.
Her scent—saltwater and machinery—fills my lungs, grounding me in this surreal moment.
“You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met, Cordelia.” My voice is low but intense. “What is it about you—about this ship?”
She turns to face me, eyes narrowing as if trying to read my soul. “You wouldn’t understand.” Her voice is firm, but there’s a crack in her defiance.
I step closer, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. “Try me.”
Her gaze flickers with uncertainty before hardening again. “This ship... it’s more than metal and engines. It’s alive.”
Alive. The word hangs between us, heavy with a meaning I can’t fully grasp yet. I want to press her for more, to dissect the layers of her cryptic revelation, but I sense she’s already regretting what she said. Her eyes dart away, as if she wishes she could take the word back, stuff it down into the depths of her guarded heart.
I step close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her body, mingling with the scent of her, a blend of saltwater and machinery. It wraps around me, intoxicating. My hand reaches out instinctively, my fingers brushing against a stray lock of her hair. It’s softer than I’d imagined, and the simple touch sends an electrifying jolt through me.
Her breath hitches, and she looks up at me, a storm of emotions swirling in her eyes. Defiance, vulnerability, fear, and something else—something that mirrors the hunger I feel inside. My pulse quickens, hammering in my ears, drowning out the distant hum of the engines.
“Cordelia. Don’t shut me out.”
