Even before reaching the launchpad, I already regretted turning down Zargo’s polite offer to give me a lift. Morana was standing slightly to the side, her unblinking gaze locked onto me. It made my skin crawl. It’s hard to keep your cool when someone looks at you like you’re a piece of garbage whose very existence acts as a personal insult. Long story short, I really should have hitched a ride with Zargo. To be fair, I didn’t notice any "special" treatment from anyone else. Zarina, who barely made it onto the shuttle, sat down next to me, muttered a quick hello, and immediately glued her eyes to her tablet. Data was flashing across her screen at breakneck speed. I couldn't make heads or tails of it, and besides, it’s bad manners to snoop. Still, just having her sit next to me was comforting. Then again, Sibians have a rather unique take on relationships, so Zarina was probably the one person who wouldn't look at me twice. Catching myself mid-thought, realizing I was already thinking of myself as Zargo’s girlfriend, I gave myself a mental slap. Then again, you can't truly be happy if one of your core needs is left neglected. Family, a relationship with a man, love—those are all fundamental needs. Take Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. It’s ancient, created over a century ago back on Earth, but it’s still completely relevant today. If one stone is missing from the foundation, the whole thing comes crashing down. Having rationalized my peace of mind this way, I went to work with a clear conscience. I greeted Nasferi-rani-Tarin, only to regret it a second later. The moment I stepped into the elevator, my comm-link started chiming relentlessly, flooded with incoming messages. The Senior Lab Director was throwing tasks at me. Judging by the sheer amount of work, I was going to have to pull an all-nighter here. I had no intention of sighing or playing hide-and-seek, so I started skimming through the assignments on my way to the containment box. Out of habit, I tried to boot up the terminal, but it remained completely dead. Realizing the system recovery wasn't finished yet, I sent a few messages to the Diangosan via my personal comm-link. I gave the trees a careful look, making sure they were doing well, and pulled out my sampling boxes. Carefully snipping off leaves and small twigs, and digging up a bit of soil, I took a single root sample, meticulously treated all the cuts, and gave the trees their nutrients. After packing everything into a portable container, I marked the date and headed over to the genetics lab. I hadn’t visited it before, though I’d seen a few of their guys around. Whenever they crawled out into the main hall, they looked completely dazed and sluggish, wandering aimlessly around the station. I figured it was just their way of taking a break from the microscopes. I didn't ask them any questions, though. Freezing at the threshold, I looked around in awe. I had never been inside a lab like this before, so I stared at the centrifuge with a look bordering on absolute infatuation. A tall guy broke my trance. Without a word, he took the container from my hands, made a few notes, and handed me a tablet to sign. I had no choice but to drop it off and leave. I’d have to figure out how to score a tour here in the future. Right now, their experiment was in its critical phase, and all the geneticists were up to their ears in work. I had to suppress my curiosity. A nasty surprise was waiting for me back at my station. Morana was standing by the door, tapping her crimson nails against the glass with clear annoyance. The harsh, scraping sound was enough to set my teeth on edge. She had come to pick a fight, I had no doubt about that. "Vetrova, why are you never at your workstation? I need the hard copies of the Zelgalo health metrics immediately." "The terminal is down," I said, surprised, as I unlocked and opened the door to the box. From what I understood, the security cameras recorded audio too. Unexpectedly, Zargo’s little setup was playing right into my hands. Maybe I really should consider a career as a fortune-teller—everything I had anticipated was happening to the letter. "It’s down now, but why didn't you print them out beforehand?" My eyebrows shot up. Did she seriously expect me to print out updates every single minute, just in case she decided to shut something else down? "The data from the nano-bots is stored on the lab server and is public access," I reminded her. "Just admit you didn't do it because you're too busy taking personal tours around the station. Protocol dictates you inform your supervisor whenever you leave your post." Holding my temper was getting harder by the second. I desperately wanted to snap back and give her a piece of my mind, but Zargo had a plan. "The Senior Lab Director assigns my tasks, and he always knows exactly where I am." Morana gave me a mocking look. I realized she didn't care about a single word I said. This entire lecture was just for show. We were in a glass box, perfectly visible from all sides. This whole stunt would give her plenty of ammo to spread nasty rumors about me all over the station. I could only thank my lucky stars again that Zargo had installed those cameras. "Did I say something funny? Why are you smiling?" Morana pursed her lips. It was getting genuinely hard to suppress my grin, especially with the thought that Zargo was watching this live performance right now. "Was there anything else you needed?" "I want my data." Talk about stubborn. She even stamped her foot at me. "The terminal is dead. As soon as it's fixed, I’ll print it out for you." "Once it’s fixed, I can print it myself." "Then I’m afraid there’s nothing else I can do for you." The conversation was starting to grind my gears. Losing my filter for a second, I pointed her toward the door. Morana gave a twisted smile. "So that’s how it is," she huffed. I kept my mouth shut. Morana spun on her heel, making sure every inch of her body language screamed disapproval. I was dying to throw a parting shot at her. Closing the door behind her, I looked straight into the camera lens. "I barely held it together," I warned Zargo. My comm-link pinged instantly with a message asking me to come to his office. So he really had been watching the show live. Before leaving, I locked the containment box and walked toward Zargo’s office at a steady, measured pace. Morana hadn’t gone far; she was lingering on the second floor, her eyes glued to me. The moment she realized where I was heading, she moved to cut me off. It must have looked hilarious from the outside—the two of us practically speed-walking in a silent race to his door. No, we weren’t running, of course, but our pace quickened with every step. Morana had a head start since she was already closer to his office, so she was the one who knocked first. However, we walked in together. Zargo looked up at us with a gaze that was anything but friendly. He clearly didn’t like what he heard on the feed. Feeling a sudden prickle of anxiety, I racked my brain but couldn't recall any protocols demanding immediate data duplication. "Senior Tan, we have an active case of sabotage in the lab," Morana announced with high drama. "I am aware. You may leave. Astra, stay." Morana shot me a triumphant look and walked out. I honestly don't know how I managed to keep my face completely blank and not mimic her petty expression right back. Given what I knew about her, she wasn't wrong about the sabotage part—she just omitted her own role in it. Zargo pointed to a chair. I sat down obediently. He got up, walked around his desk, sat across from me, and shook his head in disapproval. "What was I supposed to do? You saw what she did!" I burst out, indignant. "Security is auditing her network footprint right now," Zargo countered calmly. "Do you want to tip her off so she covers her tracks and goes into hiding?" I let out a deflated sigh. He was right; I should have swallowed my pride and just endured it. "You saw it, she's intentionally driving me crazy." "To be honest, I didn't think she was like this. It's strange, I never noticed this side of her before." Zargo fell silent, leaning back in his chair and stretching out his long legs. I, on the other hand, pulled my feet back and pressed my lips into a tight line. Obviously, it was harder for him to stay detached than for me. Morana and I were just rivals, but for him, this was his life's work. If the Zelgalo trials succeeded, it would mean a fundamentally revolutionary way to colonize atmospheric-less planets across the cosmos. "My arrival is what triggered her. I only came here to fulfill my grant obligations. The fact that we ended up in the same housing unit is a total fluke." Zargo suddenly burst into a rich laugh. Suspecting I’d missed something, I stared at him expectantly. The Sibian couldn't seem to stop; it was tracking toward outright hysterics. I had no choice but to wait it out. That sort of reaction happens sometimes when someone is under extreme nervous tension and then hears a completely naive comment. Though, I still didn't get what exactly I had said. Unless... "Are you saying you planned that housing placement intentionally?" I asked, my suspicion rising. "I didn't know the first thing about you until your silhouette crossed my porch threshold," he said smoothly. Okay, now I was completely out of my depth. Still, this was a highly personal matter, better left for a discussion across the kitchen table back home. "Fine, I get it. I’ll do my best to steer clear of Morana. The problem is, she won't steer clear of me. Zargo, I'm absolutely positive this whole crusade is because she's infatuated with you." "Do you honestly believe that?" I nodded. He let out a heavy sigh. The Sibian mind runs on pure rationality. He couldn't grasp how a senior researcher could try to ruin the operational telemetry of an entire facility just because her emotional filters were compromised. "I’m sure her true motives will come to light soon," I noted. "But mark my words, she’s bound to show up at your house tonight." "Our house," Zargo corrected seamlessly. "Fine, our house," I conceded, making a quick break for the exit. This station offered absolutely zero privacy for a secret smile—the whole place was a maze of transparent glass, surveillance nets, and a lingering Morana. She hadn't left the upper ring. The moment she saw me, her brow furrowed. I had managed to hide my pleased expression from Zargo (probably), but hiding it from her was out of the question. Trying to look upset now was a dead calculation. Morana’s face, however, suddenly drained of all color. Following her gaze, I spotted a trio of Dakari clearing the elevator doors. A legendary warrior race: towering, broad-shouldered, with fine scales accenting their faces. Rumor had it that prehistoric human encounters with their kind were the literal origin of dragon mythology. Judging by their severe expressions and direction, it was the Chief of Security and his deputies. I stepped aside, earning a few sharp, analytical stares from the unit. My attention anchored onto the heavy datapad in the lead Dakari’s hand. It looked like the internal data audit was finished. Honestly, what would it have cost my schedule to hang back in Zargo's office for another two minutes? He wouldn't have kicked me out, I was sure of it. Turning back now... no, that would just tip Morana off that the trap was springing. Straightening my shoulders and completely ignoring her, I walked toward my containment box. Bizarrely enough, tolerating Morana became instantly easier with the security team on deck. Her sudden spike in anxiety made perfect sense—she fully understood that Zargo’s network audit could isolate her digital signature. That explained her frantic attempt to pass the buck to me. Returning to my station, I found that the technical crew had successfully restored the primary terminal. Throwing a quick glance at Morana through the glass, I immediately activated the nano-bots. As the verification report began to compile, I kept a side-eye on her movements. She hadn't moved an inch, frozen on the upper deck. Throughout the entire process, she hadn't even checked her comm-link. Once the data drop was finished, I sent the files to the printer queue, locked the console, and headed for the elevator. Morana snapped out of her trance and trailed my steps. Refusing to wait at the elevator doors to avoid a closed-door encounter with her, I went straight to the physical printer array. The hardware spat out the pages quickly. The catch was that when I re-entered the central laboratory ring, Morana was completely gone. Dead center under the main structural dome, the massive holographic projection of the modified Zelgalo genome flared back to life. The surrounding staff greeted the data with a synchronized wave of triumphant cheers, rushing to their respective terminals to log the new parameters. The team was operating with flawless, high-velocity alignment. Freezing on the walkway, I watched the shifting strands of the genome with intense scientific fascination as the digital sequence slowly recalibrated against our new real-time variables.