She didn’t realize she had begun to hum her favorite song. She loved it so much she had shared it across every public database, uploaded it for any curious non-human to find. She played it in the gym and in common rooms whenever allowed. No one had ever said they liked it. Usually she heard things like “too loud,” “abrasive,” or “is this a battle anthem,” but Lily didn’t care.
She loved it.
And she didn’t notice that while she hummed softly, Khar’s massive boot tapped slowly, rhythmically, in perfect time with her tune.
Several chrono-cycles later, they were polishing the ship’s exterior in their suits.
Khar glided along Vitro’s hull in a sleek black Divani spacesuit. The design followed the lines of his body like a second skin, its angular plating emphasizing the sharp sweep of his horns. Lily suspected this was a deliberate Divani fashion choice. Against the abyss-dark surface of the suit, the horns themselves were traced with faint blue bioluminescent lights, turning his silhouette into something both elegant and predatory in the void.
Using subtle bursts of vibrational propulsion, Khar moved with the effortless grace of an Earth feline stalking its prey.
Lily, meanwhile, hated her own suit.
At first glance it was beautiful, like everything else aboard Vitro. Long, gauzy beige fabric wrapped around her in layered folds, forming a protective cocoon against the bite of space. The material shimmered softly in the starlight, more like haute couture than survival gear.
Unfortunately, it was also unbearably warm.
Her spacewear unfolded into delicate, wing-like protrusions along her back, thin membranes that helped capture energy from nearby solar radiation. When she moved, the fabricbillowed around her, and she drifted through the void like some oversized jellyfish, slow and graceful whether she liked it or not.
The suit itself was brilliant engineering. It could keep her alive in open space for chrono-cycles with minimal input, harvesting faint solar flares for power and recycling every possible resource.
But brilliance did not stop sweat from running down her spine.
Inside the elegant cocoon, Lily was slowly roasting.
Her silent suffering was interrupted when an emergency alert flashed on their communicators.
“We have a problem.”
Before Lily could react, Khar unclipped both of them from the tether lines, hauled open the airlock hatch beneath them, and pushed her inside without hesitation.
“Khar! What happened?”
He lifted a hand to silence her while he read the incoming data. His expression hardened. Then, in a rare flare of irritation, he barked at Vitro as though the ship’s AI cared even remotely about his temper.
“Vitro, full lockdown on guest suite B. KRIO-223 contamination alert. Full exposure report and sterilization estimate, now.”
Lily froze. Vitro sealed the suite immediately, switching the entire area to a closed-cycle atmosphere.
“Guest suite B sealed. Exposure analysis underway. Estimated sterilization period for KRIO-223: three chrono-cycles.”
Lily reached for her helmet clasps, but Khar caught her wrist.
“Wait until Vitro confirms this area safe.”
“Because of KRIO-223 exposure? What is that?”
Khar stared at her through his darkened visor as if he couldn’t believe the question.
“You’ve never heard of it? Where have you been the last thirty chrono-years?”
Lily punched his upper arm playfully. It came out harder than she meant, but surely someone like Khar didn’t even feel it. His species worshipped strength. A little tap meant nothing.
“Oh, come on. You know I was on Earth until two chrono-years ago.”
The giant in the black suit stared at her.
“You have only been in space for two chrono-years.”
