In the Wake of Stars

Chapter 23: The Satellite Assembly

The docking bay was quiet, save for the occasional hum of machinery and the clicking of tools. The room itself felt heavy and almost stifling, the higher temperatures and strained pressure making it feel more like a furnace than the cold, sleek spacecraft they were used to. Nora adjusted her grip on the satellite casing, feeling a faint sheen of sweat building on her forehead despite the hours she’d spent acclimating to the ship’s cooler systems.

Cal, a few feet away, inspected a wiring panel, his hands deftly arranging cables and circuits within the satellite’s central hub. She glanced at him, only to quickly look away. He’d shed his shirt not long after they’d started, and the sight of his bare torso was—infuriatingly—distracting. It wasn’t that she hadn’t seen him like this before, but something about the context made it harder to ignore. His skin was slightly slick with sweat, dust and grease streaked across his muscles, and every now and then, he’d flex or move in a way that made her forget what she was supposed to be doing.

Annoyed at herself, she forced her gaze back to the tools in her hand. She had a job to focus on. The satellite was a delicate piece of machinery, and while the assembly itself was straightforward, it required concentration to make sure they got everything right. They only had one shot at this—once they deployed it, there’d be no do-overs.

But then, as if on cue, Cal broke the silence. “You know, if you keep staring, I might start charging you by the hour.”

Nora’s head snapped up, her cheeks flaring. She scoffed, trying to cover her embarrassment. “In your dreams. I’m just making sure you don’t break anything important.”

He smirked, a devilish glint in his eyes as he leaned back, stretching a bit too purposefully. “Sure you are, sweetheart.”

She grumbled something under her breath and returned to her work, determined to ignore him. But every time he moved, her eyes would wander back, tracing the lines of his shoulders, the flex of his back. The fact that he seemed entirely aware of it only made things worse.

Finally, with a satisfying click, they fastened the last panel on the satellite. Cal attached the satellite to one of the ship’s exterior arms, tightening it securely.

“Just need to go out and fasten the joints,” he said, setting the tools aside. “And apply a few last settings on the satellite before we deploy it.”

“I’ll go,” she offered, a bit too quickly, hoping the change of scenery would help her refocus. “I could use a break from all the diagnostics and checklists.”

Cal raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Really? Not sure you’re ready for a full spacewalk, seeing as I usually handle them.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m perfectly capable of doing this. Unless, of course, you’re too scared I’ll actually do it better than you.”

He smirked, folding his arms. “Hardly. Just don’t want to be the one scraping you off a panel if something goes wrong.”

A familiar heat rose in her chest. “I know what I’m doing, Cal.”

For a long moment, he stared her down, something unspoken passing between them—a blend of frustration, challenge, and an undercurrent of something he’d never admit. Then, with a sigh, he relented. “Fine. Have it your way.”

She smirked, feeling victorious, though she wasn’t entirely sure if that was the only reason she felt triumphant.

A few minutes later, she returned to the docking bay in one of the newer, form-fitting spacesuits, her helmet tucked under her arm. Cal looked up, and for the first time, his expression shifted. His gaze traveled up and down her figure, taking in the way the suit hugged her form in ways her standard gear never had before. He let out a low whistle, his eyes glinting with something decidedly more than admiration.

“Damn, Nora. Didn’t know you were hiding all that under your jumpsuits.”

She flushed, her mind momentarily scrambling. “Are you—seriously?”

“Just calling it like I see it.” He grinned, shameless, as he walked over to help her with the harness and tethers. “Now, hold still.”

Despite herself, she tensed as he leaned in close, his hands brushing against her sides as he tightened the straps. The air felt thick between them, every touch lingering longer than necessary, his fingers pressing just enough to make her pulse race. He smirked knowingly, enjoying her discomfort, before securing the last latch.

“There,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “All set. Try not to miss me too much out there.”

She rolled her eyes, though her heart was pounding. “Yeah, because I’ll be busy actually working.”

With one last glance over her shoulder, she stepped out through the airlock and into the open vacuum of space, focusing her attention on the task at hand. The satellite was positioned on one of the ship’s exterior arms, ready to be activated. Methodically, she fastened the joints, her hands steady as she completed each setting with precision.

The planet below glowed faintly, stars scattered across the vastness around her, reminding her of just how isolated they were. Yet, in the solitude of space, Nora felt an odd sense of freedom.

She finished the settings on the satellite, her mind clear and focused. But just as she started to return, a soft, mechanical click sounded over her comm, followed by a high-pitched alarm. She looked down, frowning as a small red light flashed on her wrist display—a warning. Pressure leak in one of the outer seams. Her pulse quickened.

“Cal,” she said, keeping her voice steady. “Got a bit of a situation.”

Back inside, Cal’s voice was instantly alert. “What’s wrong?”

“One of the suit seals is compromised. Looks like it’s—” She winced as the flashing intensified, the light spreading up her display. “Great. Spreading.”

“Hang tight,” Cal ordered, his voice firm. “I’m coming out.”

She heard him moving on the other end of the comms, and though she’d insist she didn’t need saving, her own breathing was beginning to feel harder, the compromised seal pressing against her ribs with an uncomfortable intensity.

A few minutes later, Cal appeared on the outside of the ship, his own suit glinting under the harsh starlight. He quickly reached her, his face hidden behind the visor, but his movements were calm and steady.

“Stay still,” he said, his hands working quickly to assess the issue. “I told you this was a bad idea.”

“Just fix it,” she bit back, though the fear was starting to creep into her voice.

He muttered something under his breath, his hands steady and efficient as he applied a temporary sealant to the breach. After what felt like an eternity, the alarm finally quieted, and she felt the pressure on her chest ease.

“There. Should hold long enough to get you back inside.”

She nodded, swallowing her pride as she let him guide her back to the docking bay. When they re-entered, she struggled to pull off her helmet, her breathing unsteady. Cal was at her side instantly, his face hard, but his touch gentle.

“Don’t ever do that again,” he said, his voice low and intense. She could see a hint of something raw in his expression—a worry he’d never admit to.

She forced a weak smile. “Guess you don’t need to babysit me, huh?”

He stared at her for a long moment, his gaze piercing. “Maybe you’re right. But if you pull a stunt like that again, you won’t get a choice.” His voice softened, the edges of a smirk returning. “And as much as I enjoy seeing you in that suit, I’d rather keep you in one piece.”

She flushed, rolling her eyes, but this time, she couldn’t quite hide the faint smile tugging at her lips.