Arkon

ARKON

I crouched by the final gateway of the service hatch, my fingers deftly working the simple security system. The lock clicked open, and I eased the hatch up, revealing a larger space below.

“All clear,” I whispered to Samira.

She nodded, moving closer. I gripped her waist to help her down, savoring the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric. My hands lingered longer than necessary, and I caught a slight catch in her breath.

Once inside, we surveyed our surroundings. The station’s layout was compact and efficient - clearly designed for minimal sentient presence. Banks of computers and monitoring equipment lined the walls, their screens casting a soft blue glow over the metallic surfaces.

“Fascinating,” Samira murmured, her eyes darting from console to console. “See how everything’s automated? It’s set up so a maintenance crew only needs to stop by periodically.”

I grunted in agreement, more focused on securing the area. My gaze settled on a small unit tucked in the corner. “What’s that?”

Samira followed my line of sight. “Decontamination chamber, I’d guess. For the crews when they visit.”

The realization hit us both simultaneously.

“The dust paste,” I said.

Samira nodded. “We need to clean up before touching anything.”

We approached the unit, and I frowned. It was barely large enough for one person, let alone my Vinduthi frame.

“You first,” Samira said, a slight quirk to her lips. “I’m not sure you’ll fit otherwise.”

I huffed but complied, squeezing into the cramped space. As the decontamination cycle began, I caught Samira averting her eyes... mostly. The occasional furtive glance in my direction sent an unexpected thrill through me.

When I emerged, cleansed of the insect dust, Samira took her turn. Now it was my struggle to keep my gaze averted. The soft hiss of the decontamination mist filled the air, along with Samira’s quiet gasps as the cool spray hit her skin.

My imagination ran wild, picturing water droplets trailing down her curves. I clenched my fists, willing myself to focus on anything else.

“?” Samira’s voice snapped me back to reality. “I need some help.”

I turned to find her half-out of the chamber, twisting awkwardly. “There’s a spot on my back I can’t reach. Could you...?”

My mouth went dry. “Of course.”

I moved closer, aware of every inch between us. Samira’s damp skin glistened in the low light. I reached out, my gray hand a stark contrast against her warm brown tone. As I helped work the remaining paste from a hard-to-reach spot between her shoulder blades, Samira let out a soft sigh.

The sound sent a jolt straight through me. Our eyes met, both of us feeling the possibility in the air.

Samira cleared her throat. “Thanks,” she said softly. “We should, um, get to work.”

I nodded, reluctantly stepping back. “Right. Let’s see what we can find.”

I rummaged through a nearby storage compartment, uncovering a set of sterilized garments. “Maintenance crew robes,” I muttered, holding up a loose-fitting jumpsuit. “Must have been a rule to keep the environment clean.” It barely stretched over my broad shoulders and chest, the fabric straining against my Vinduthi frame.

Samira took the other, smaller suit. The garment hung on her slender form, but it was better than nothing. I averted my eyes as she changed, trying to ignore the rustle of fabric.

“Ready,” she said.

I turned, and my breath caught. Even in the ill-fitting jumpsuit, Samira radiated an allure that took my breath away. The close quarters of the station suddenly felt even more confining.

“Let’s get to work,” I said, the words gruffer than intended.

We moved to examine the station’s equipment. A compact research terminal dominated one wall, its sleek design standing out from its utilitarian surroundings. Beside it stood a cylindrical sample storage unit, its contents hidden behind an opaque exterior.

Samira’s eyes lit up as she approached the terminal. Her fingers danced across the interface, bringing screens to life. “This is incredible,” she breathed. “The processing power alone...”

I watched her work, impressed by how quickly she adapted to the unfamiliar system. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and I moved closer, ostensibly to observe the data scrolling across the screen.

Our bodies brushed as I leaned in, and I felt Samira stiffen momentarily before relaxing. The heat of her proximity sent a burning feeling through me, and I struggled to focus.

“What are we looking for?” I asked, desperate for a distraction.

Samira bit her lower lip, a gesture that threatened to undo my composure. “Anything related to the mind-control crops. Production data, genetic sequences, distribution plans.”

I nodded, moving to set up rudimentary alarms near the entrance. My senses remained on high alert, attuned to any potential threat. The cramped layout of the station left us with few options if we were discovered.

The research station was a treasure trove of information, but it could easily become a trap. Its lack of defensibility gnawed at me, a constant undercurrent of unease.

“,” Samira called, her voice tinged with excitement. “I think I’ve found something.”

I returned to her side, noting how she unconsciously leaned towards me as I approached. The screen before us displayed a complex molecular structure, annotations scrolling alongside it.

“This compound,” Samira explained, her fingers tracing the image. “It’s similar to the one I developed, but with key modifications. If I can isolate the differences...”

She trailed off, lost in concentration. I watched her work, marveling at her ability to piece together the puzzle with such limited resources. My admiration for her intelligence and adaptability grew with each passing moment.

As Samira delved deeper into the research, I maintained a vigilant watch. The close quarters intensified every interaction, every accidental touch sending sparks across my skin.

I moved away from Samira, my instincts urging me to secure our surroundings. The research station’s cramped layout left us exposed, vulnerable. I scanned the area, identifying potential weak points.

“Samira,” I whispered. “Keep working. I need to set up some safeguards.”

She nodded, her focus unwavering from the terminal. I admired her dedication, even as worry gnawed at my gut.

I approached the entrance, all senses on high alert. The faint hum of machinery provided minimal cover for any approaching threats. I rigged a simple alarm system using spare components from my gear – crude, but effective.

“How’s it going?” I asked, returning to her side.

Samira looked up, a strand of hair falling across her face. I resisted the urge to brush it away.

“Slow,” she admitted. “The encryption is complex, but I’m making progress. How about you?”

“Basic alarms are set,” I said. “But this place isn’t built for defense. If we’re found...”

“Don’t worry,” Samira said. “I know you’ll protect me.”

I grumbled. But it was true. No matter what.