“Why Do You Keep Staring at My Butt, Human?” — I Was Stunned by the Alien Woman’s Reaction…

Marcus Chen had been on the ISV Convergence for exactly 43 days, which was long enough to learn three critical facts about serving on a joint species vessel. First, human coffee was universally beloved by every alien species they’d encountered, suggesting humanity’s true contribution to galactic civilization wasn’t technology, but caffeinated beverages.

Second, most alien species found human humor either baffling or vaguely threatening, which explained why his jokes kept landing with the enthusiasm of lead balloons in a gravity. Well, third, staring at your alien crew mates while trying to figure out their rank system could create diplomatic incidents if you weren’t careful about what exactly you appeared to be staring at.

Marcus discovered fact number three the hard way, which was typical for his luck. The Convergence was humanity’s first serious attempt at integrated crew operations with the Velrai, a species that had been exploring the galaxy for 3,000 years. While humans were still figuring out agriculture, they were elegant, efficient, and possessed a cultural approach to emotional expression that made Stoics seem like an understatement.

They also had those distinctive long ears that tapered to fine points and skin covered in bioluminescent patterns that shifted based on mood, emotion, and Marcus had learned through desperate study of crew databases, rank, and specialization. The patterns were beautiful, intricate, and the only way to figure out who outranked whom since Velra didn’t believe in traditional uniforms.

Marcus had been trying to memorize them for six weeks, studying his crew mate’s markings to avoid accidentally insulting someone important through ignorance. It was harder than it looked because the patterns were everywhere. Faces, necks, arms, backs, and apparently other locations Marcus hadn’t fully considered when he started this self-directed cultural education program, which brought him to his current problem.

Senior navigator Kayle’s bioluminescent rank markings included particularly complex patterns on her lower back and hips, indicating specialized navigation training and high status within the ship’s command structure. Marcus knew this because he’d been studying them for approximately 15 seconds while pretending to check a power conduit reading in the engineering bay. He was genuinely trying to memorize the pattern.

The way the silver threads interwo with blues and purples. The geometric precision that indicated mathematic specialization. The subtle gold highlights that suggested command authority. It was fascinating, educational, and absolutely not what it looked like when Kaye turned around and caught him staring directly at her posterior.

Why do you keep staring at my butt, human? The engineering bay went silent. Every head, human and turned toward the unfolding disaster. Marcus’ brain, which had been functioning reasonably well up until approximately 3 seconds ago, completely shut down. His mouth opened. Sounds emerged that might have been words in some parallel universe, but in this reality were just vaguely phonetic panic noises.

I The patterns rank markings. He gestured desperately at her lower back. navigation specialization command authority, not I wasn’t. It’s educational. Kay’s expression remained perfectly neutral in that way faces did when they could mean absolutely anything from amusement to preparing formal complaint paperwork.

Her own bioluminescent patterns, which covered her neck and shoulders in elaborate spirals, flickered through colors Marcus’ panicked brain couldn’t begin to interpret. educational,” she repeated, and her voice held something Marcus couldn’t identify. “You were educating yourself on my butt, on your rank markings.” Marcus’ voice cracked with desperation. “I’m trying to learn the hierarchy.

You don’t wear uniforms, and the patterns are how you indicate specialization, and I’ve been studying them because I don’t want to accidentally disrespect someone important.” and he realized he was still gesturing at her lower back and stopped abruptly, hands falling to his sides. Oh god, I’m making this worse. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t.

I swear I was just trying to figure out if you outrank me, which you definitely do, obviously. And now I’ve created an interspecies incident through well-intentioned stupidity, which is pretty much my signature move. The silence stretched. Marcus prepared for his career to end in spectacular fashion, possibly with deportation back to Earth and mandatory sensitivity training for the rest of his natural life.

Otherw crew members watched with those inscrable expressions that could indicate anything. His human colleagues looked torn between secondhand embarrassment and poorly suppressed amusement. Then Kayle’s patterns flared bright yellow orange and she started laughing. Not the polite acknowledgement soundwrath typically made. Marcus had learned that was more social obligation than genuine emotion.

This was actual laughter, full body and unrestrained, the kind that made her double over slightly, and her long ears twitch with the force of it. The sound was beautiful, melodic in a way human laughter wasn’t, and Marcus was too stunned to do anything but stand there while his face burned with embarrassment that probably glowed like a beacon.

The laughter went on for approximately 15 seconds that felt like 15 hours. Otherw crew members patterns shifted through colors Marcus’ limited knowledge identified as surprise and amusement. His human colleague stopped, even pretending not to watch the spectacle. Rank markings. Kaye managed between laughs, her pattern still blazing that bright yellow orange that Marcus’ database helpfully identified as extreme amusement. You were another wave of laughter. Oh, ancestors.

The human was studying navigation specialization patterns. She straightened, wiping at her eyes in a gesture that was surprisingly human, and her patterns gradually shifted to softer golds that suggested lingering amusement rather than active hilarity. “On my butt. I’m so sorry,” Marcus said miserably. “I didn’t mean to.

I was genuinely trying to learn the rank system. Your patterns are really complex, and I wanted to understand the hierarchy properly.” And I realize how absolutely terrible that sounds now that I’m saying it out loud. Kayle’s patterns flickered through several colors in rapid succession. Marcus caught amused blues, curious silvers, something warm he didn’t have a name for.

You know what the truly remarkable thing is? She said, and her voice still held traces of laughter. You’re not lying. I can read your patterns. Yes, humans have them too, though you probably don’t know that. Your thermal variations, micro expressions, everything broadcasts emotional state if you know how to look.

And you were genuinely trying to memorize rank indicators while happening to stare at my posterior. Only a human would manage that combination of earnest and awkward. Is that good or bad? I haven’t decided yet. She tilted her head, ears swiveling forward in what Marcus had learned meant focused attention. Tell me, engineering specialist Chen, what did you learn from your thorough study of my rank markings? Marcus considered lying, decided he’d already destroyed any hope of dignity, and went with honesty. You’re a senior navigator with mathematic specialization, which is indicated by

the geometric precision of your patterns. The gold threading suggests command authority beyond just your direct role, probably liazing between navigation and ship operations. The silver blue coloring indicates you’re unusually young for your position, which means you’re either incredibly talented or incredibly connected. Given that you’re on a mixed species vessel, I’m guessing talented.

And the pattern complexity on your he caught himself on your lower back indicates advanced training in something beyond standard navigation possibly related to spatial mathematics or jump calculations. The engineering bay had gone silent again but for different reasons. Kayle’s patterns had shifted to colors Marcus didn’t recognize.

Her expression unreadable. You learned all that,” she said slowly. “From staring at my butt for 15 seconds.” “And from studying the crew database for six weeks,” Marcus added desperately. “I’ve been trying to understand culture and hierarchy because I don’t want to accidentally offend anyone through ignorance, and your patterns are fascinating.

And I know I’m just making this worse, but I promise I wasn’t being creepy. I was being a gigantic nerd, which is different, but probably not better. Kaye studied him for a long moment, pattern cycling through colors Marcus couldn’t interpret. Then she smiled, an actual genuine smile that transformed her usually composed features. You’re right about the mathematic specialization and the command liaison role.

Wrong about the youth. I’m actually old for my position. Just came late to formal rank. and the advanced training is in theoretical jump mechanics which almost no one recognizes from pattern analysis alone. Her pattern shifted to warm golds and soft pinks. That is the most thorough and peculiar explanation I’ve ever received for someone staring at my butt.

And I’ve served with three species who don’t even recognize as sentient. So am I fired, court marshaled, sent back to Earth in disgrace? You’re going to teach me how humans manage to be simultaneously earnest and awkward with such consistency, Kaye said. Because that combination should be impossible. Yet here you are proving it works.

She turned to leave, paused, glanced back over her shoulder. And Marcus, if you want to study rank patterns, just ask. It’s less likely to create diplomatic incidents and more likely to produce accurate learning, though significantly less entertaining for the rest of us. She walked away, patterns still flickering with amusement, and Marcus stood in the silent engineering bay while every single crew member stared at him with expressions ranging from shock to admiration to barely contained laughter.

His human colleague, engineer Petrov, appeared at his elbow. Did that just happen? I think so, Marcus said weakly. Did she just laugh like actual laughter? I’ve been on the ship for 2 years, Petrov said. I’ve never heard a Velra laugh like that. I’m not sure most have heard awrathy laugh like that. What did you do? I honestly don’t know.

I think I accidentally charmed her by being embarrassingly honest about studying her rank markings by staring at her butt while trying to understand the hierarchy. Marcus protested. Sure, Chen. Sure. Petrov clapped him on the shoulder. Whatever you did, congratulations. You just made senior navigator Kaye actually laugh.

That’s either the best possible start to an interspecies friendship or the most spectacular beginning to a diplomatic incident. Possibly both. My money’s on both. Marcus looked at the door Kaye had exited through. Remembered her laughter and the way her patterns had blazed with genuine amusement rather than polite acknowledgement.

He thought about her smile, about the offer to teach him properly, about the warm colors her patterns had shifted to at the end. Yeah, he said quietly. My money’s on both, too. He turned back to his power conduit readings and tried to focus on work while his face continued burning with embarrassment. And every crew member in the engineering bay suddenly found reasons to walk past and make comments about rank studies and navigation techniques.

43 days on the convergence and Marcus had just learned a fourth critical fact about serving on a joint species vessel. Sometimes the most awkward beginning leads to the most interesting conversations and sometimes making an alien navigator laugh is worth any amount of embarrassment, even if you have to stare at her butt to do it.

The incident became legend within approximately 6 hours, which Marcus learned was standard velocity for gossip on a starship, regardless of the species composition of the crew. By breakfast the next morning, he couldn’t walk through any corridor without crew members, human and alike, making barely concealed jokes about cultural education and hierarchical observation protocols. Hey, Chen.

Lieutenant Morrison called across the mess hall. I’m having trouble identifying ranks. Mind coming over here and staring at Johnson’s ass for a while. For educational purposes, carefully studying posterior patterns, engineer Petrov added with absolutely no shame. It’s about cultural integration.

I hate you all,” Marcus muttered into his coffee, which was the only honest response he could manage. While his face achieved temperatures normally associated with atmospheric re-entry, the Velrai crew members were more subtle, but equally pointed in their attention. They’d started making room for him in common areas, their patterns flickering through colors, his improving knowledge, identified as curiosity and amusement.

A few even approached to ask questions about human embarrassment responses, as if Marcus’ public humiliation was a fascinating case study in cultural differences, which to be fair, it probably was. The worst part was that Kaye seemed to find the entire situation endlessly entertaining. She appeared wherever Marcus was working with suspicious frequency, always with legitimate reasons, coordinating navigation data with engineering, checking power distribution for jump calculations, discussing propulsion efficiency. But her patterns constantly flickered with those amused goals that

suggested she was enjoying his ongoing mortification far more than professional courtesy should allow. Good morning, engineering specialist Chen, she’d say while he was elbowed deep in a coolant system. Still studying ranks. I can stand still if you need better angles for your research. I’m working, Marcus would reply, face burning.

Of course, very diligent, very thorough in your observations. Her patterns would dance through colors that absolutely indicated she was laughing at him internally. 3 days after the incident, as it was being called in crew gossip channels, Kaye found Marcus in one of the auxiliary engineering bays trying to recalibrate a plasma manifold and not think about how his life had become a comedy of errors.

She entered quietly, but her patterns gave her away. The bioluminescence created subtle light shifts that Marcus had learned to recognize even when not looking directly. “Am I interrupting?” She asked, and her tone suggested she knew the answer and was asking anyway. No more than usual, Marcus said without looking up from his calibration readings. Come to mock the awkward human some more.

Is that what you think I’ve been doing? Something in her voice made Marcus pause and actually look at her. Kayle’s patterns had shifted from amused golds to something more complex, blues and silvers that his database suggested meant curiosity mixed with something else he couldn’t identify. “Haven’t you?” he asked carefully.

“I’ve been teasing you,” Kaye acknowledged, moving closer to examine his work with the professional interest of someone who understood engineering, even if it wasn’t her specialty. “There’s a difference. Mockery is cruel. Teasing is playful, affectionate, even affectionate seems like a strong word for someone you caught staring at your butt three days ago. Strong perhaps, but not inaccurate.

She tilted her head, ears swiveling in that focused attention gesture. Do you know what I find most fascinating about that encounter, Marcus? He noticed she’d used his first name instead of his title and wasn’t sure what that meant. that humans are capable of weaponizing awkwardness.

Her patterns flickered with amusement, that you were genuinely trying to understand culture through careful observation, even though it made you uncomfortable. Most humans on this ship interact with us politely, but maintain distance. You engaged actively enough to memorize rank patterns from bioluminescence analysis alone. That’s remarkable.

That’s nerd behavior, Marcus corrected. There’s a difference. Your species uses that word like it’s negative. It’s not. Kaye studied the plasma manifold readings over his shoulder, standing close enough that Marcus could see the intricate details of her pattern work. Among my people, dedicated study is highly valued. Someone who takes time to understand another culture through careful observation would be considered honorable.

The fact that you happen to be observing my posterior while doing so is amusing, but it doesn’t diminish the effort. Marcus felt his embarrassment shifting into something else. Curiosity, maybe about this alien navigator who seemed genuinely interested in his awkward attempt at cultural education. So, I’m not completely humiliated in your eyes.

Oh, you’re definitely humiliated, but humiliation isn’t permanent, and it’s not particularly important. Her patterns shifted to warmer colors. What’s important is that you tried and that you were honest when caught instead of making excuses. Honesty is rare enough to be valuable, even when it makes me look like an idiot, especially then. She reached past him to adjust one of his calibration settings. her understanding of the system immediately apparent.

And Marcus caught a faint scent like ozone and something floral he couldn’t identify. You know what the truly interesting thing is? That I still have a job after creating an interecies incident. That I’ve been watching you too and you haven’t noticed. Marcus blinked, nearly dropped his calibration tool. What? Kayle’s patterns flickered through several colors in rapid succession, settling on something between amused and nervous. Could Velra even get nervous? You’re not the only one studying cross-cultural interaction, Marcus. I’ve

been observing how humans communicate, how they use humor to diffuse tension, how they form social bonds through shared embarrassment. You’re particularly interesting because you’re both awkward and sincere in ways that shouldn’t coexist but somehow do. I’m interesting. Fascinating actually. She stepped back, giving him space but maintaining eye contact in a way that felt deliberate.

Mostrai find human emotional expression baffling. We’re trained from childhood to control our patterns, to display only what’s appropriate for our rank and situation. But humans broadcast everything. Every embarrassment, every amusement, every emotional state just visible on your faces. It should be chaotic and primitive. But instead, it’s honest, raw, sometimes beautiful.

Marcus’ brain struggled to process this information while simultaneously trying to remember how to operate basic calibration equipment. You’ve been studying human emotional expression through careful observation, Kaye said, and her patterns danced with definite amusement. Now, sound familiar.

Are you saying you’ve been staring at my butt? I’ve been studying your facial expressions, body language, and emotional responses. Your posterior, while adequately structured for a human, wasn’t particularly relevant to my research. She moved toward the exit, paused at the door. Though I suppose if I needed to invent an explanation for paying attention to you, I could claim I was analyzing human anatomical structure for cultural education purposes.

That’s that’s just mean, Marcus said, but he was smiling despite himself. That’s teasing, Kaye corrected, still learning the difference. She tilted her head, ears forward. I’m off shift in 4 hours. If you’re interested in actual cultural exchange instead of accidental posterior analysis, I’ll be an observation deck C. We could discuss velrai pattern language and human emotional broadcasting like civilized beings.

Or we could continue this game where we both pretend we’re not interested in learning more about each other. Your choice. She left before Marcus could formulate a response. her pattern still flickering with those warm amused colors that he was definitely not qualified to interpret but wanted desperately to understand. Petrov’s voice crackled over his calm 2 minutes later.

Did senior navigator Kaye just ask you on a date? How do you even know about that? Were you listening to internal bay communications? Chen, everyone on this ship is following this situation. You accidentally started the most entertaining interspecies interaction we’ve had in two years. So, was that a date invitation? Marcus thought about Kayle’s patterns, about the warmth in her voice when she called him fascinating about the way she’d stood close enough for him to catch her scent while pretending to check his calibration settings. I think it might have been, he said slowly. But

I’m not sure if even have dates or if she was just offering cultural education or if I’m reading way too much into a simple conversation. My money’s on date, Petrov said cheerfully. Which means you need to figure out what humans bring to cultural exchanges. I suggest not staring at anyone’s butt. Very helpful. Thanks. That’s what I’m here for.

Now go learn about pattern language so you can figure out when she’s laughing at you versus laughing with you. There’s apparently a difference. Marcus finished his calibration work, showered, changed into his offduty clothes, and spent 3 hours having a minor crisis about whether showing up to observation deck C would be presumptuous or expected.

In the end, he went because curiosity outweighed anxiety and because Kaye had called him fascinating, which was possibly the best and most terrifying thing anyone had ever said about him. She was there when he arrived, standing at the main viewport, watching the stars stream past in patterns that suggested they were traveling at fractional light speeds.

Her patterns were subtle in the dim lighting, soft blues and silvers that Marcus’ improving knowledge suggested meant calm contemplation. “You came,” she said without turning around. “You invited me sort of, I think.” Velra social invitation protocols are still unclear to me. “I invited you.” She glanced over her shoulder and her patterns flickered to warmer tones.

And you accepted by showing up despite being uncertain, which is either brave or foolish, possibly both. My specialty, Marcus said, moving to stand beside her at the viewport, being brave and foolish simultaneously. They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, watching the stars blur past. Then Kaye asked, “What do you actually want to know about pattern language beyond rank identification through posterior analysis? Marcus felt himself blush again, but pushed through it.

Everything, how it develops, what emotions correspond to which colors, how you control it, why some patterns are voluntary and others aren’t. It’s like you’re broadcasting emotional state constantly, but also selectively revealing specific information. And I don’t understand how those two things coexist. That’s actually a very insightful question.

Kayle’s pattern shifted to colors Marcus was starting to recognize as pleased and interested. Most humans ask surface level questions about colors. You’re asking about the underlying system. Why? Because understanding the system means understanding how you communicate, which means understanding how you think, which means maybe understanding you as a person instead of just as an alien crew mate. Marcus paused.

That sounds creepy when I say it out loud, doesn’t it? It sounds honest, Kaye said. Which seems to be your default setting, even when it makes you uncomfortable. I like that about you. Her patterns flared briefly with warm pinks and golds, and Marcus’ heart did something complicated in his chest. Okay, he said, “Teach me.

I promise to pay attention to appropriate anatomical areas this time.” Kaye laughed. that same genuine sound from their first meeting and began explaining the intricacies of pattern language while Marcus listened and learned and tried not to think about how much he was enjoying spending time with an alien navigator who’d caught him staring at her butt and somehow turned it into the beginning of something that felt remarkably like friendship or maybe something more than friendship though he was definitely not ready to examine that possibility yet. not while his face was

still capable of blushing this much. Anyway, over the next month, Marcus’ education inrath pattern language progressed from desperately confused to functionally competent, which felt like significant achievement given how complex the system was. Kaye proved to be patient but merciless teacher, correcting his interpretations with accuracy that suggested she’d been studying human emotional responses as thoroughly as he’d been studying bioluminescence. They fell into routine. Marcus would finish his engineering shift and find

Kaye in whatever quiet corner of the ship she’d claimed for the day. observation decks, empty cargo bays, once even the hydroponic section where the plant light created interesting effects on her patterns. She’d quiz him on color interpretations, demonstrate subtle shifts in meaning, explain the cultural significance of voluntary versus involuntary displays.

This, she said one evening, making her shoulder patterns ripple through deep blues, is controlled concentration. Notice how the edges are precise. The color distribution even. I’m consciously displaying focus for your benefit. Got it. Precise edges mean voluntary control. Good. Now watch. Her patterns suddenly flared bright yellow orange with those fuzzy diffuse edges that Marcus had learned meant involuntary emotional response. That’s genuine amusement.

I can’t fully control it when something genuinely entertains me. which is why you can always tell when I’m actually laughing at you versus pretending for politeness. How comforting, Marcus said, but he was smiling. What surprised him most was how much he enjoyed her company beyond the cultural education. Kaye had a sense of humor that was rare among, a species that valued emotional control so highly that spontaneous laughter was considered somewhat scandalous.

She delighted in making him flustered, but never cruy, always with that warm undertone that suggested affection rather than mockery. And she was genuinely interested in human culture, asking questions that revealed she’d been studying them as carefully as Marcus studied her people.

“Explain sarcasm to me again,” she said one day while they were both supposedly working on coordinating navigation and engineering systems, but actually just talking. I understand the concept saying opposite of what you mean to convey meaning through contradiction, but humans use it constantly in situations where straightforward communication would be more efficient.

Why? Because efficiency isn’t always the point. Marcus said running diagnostics he didn’t really need to run. Sarcasm is about creating connection through shared understanding. If I say, “Oh, great.” When something terrible happens, you have to understand context and tone to know I mean the opposite. That requires you to be paying attention to me specifically, not just to my words. It’s intimacy disguised as irony.

Kayle’s patterns flickered through curious silvers. So inefficient communication creates stronger bonds than efficient communication. Sometimes yeah, humans are weird like that. Weird,” she repeated, testing the word. “I’m beginning to think weird is how humans describe anything that requires emotional engagement instead of pure logic.

” “That’s exactly what it is,” Marcus confirmed. “We use weird for anything that makes us feel something we can’t easily categorize, which is most things, honestly. Your species is exhausting,” Kaye said. “But her patterns were warm golds that indicated affection. You feel everything intensely and then pretend you don’t by making jokes about it, says the species that broadcasts emotional state through involuntary bioluminescence while claiming to value emotional control.

That’s different. We display, but we don’t. Wallow. You humans seem to enjoy diving into emotions and swimming around in them. It’s called processing. Marcus defended. We feel things. We talk about them. We make terrible jokes until the feelings become manageable. It’s therapeutic. It’s chaos.

But she was smiling, her patterns dancing through colors that Marcus now recognized as fond exasperation. The crew noticed their developing friendship with varying degrees of subtlety. Human crew members teased Marcus relentlessly about his navigation studies.

Progressing to actual navigation, crew members did something more interesting. Their patterns would shift to approving colors whenever they saw Marcus and Kaye together. A kind of silent communal endorsement that Marcus found both touching and slightly terrifying. They’re matchmaking, Petrov informed him one day in engineering. The Velrai crew, I’ve been researching it.

When they approve of potential partnerships, they display these specific pattern combinations around the people involved. It’s like their version of obvious winking and nudging. We’re not. It’s not. We’re just friends. Marcus protested. Crossspecies friends learning about each other’s cultures.

Chen, she literally makes her patterns do the equivalent of heart ties whenever you talk. I’ve seen it. Everyone’s seen it. You’re the only one still pretending this is pure cultural education. Marcus wanted to argue, but he’d been noticing things, too. The way Kaye always seemed to find reasons to touch him, adjusting his collar when it was crooked, placing her hand on his shoulder when making a point.

That one time she’d absently played with his hair while explaining something, and then been visibly flustered when she realized what she was doing. The way her patterns always shifted to those warm pinks and golds when she was around him, colors his database and growing experience identified as affection and contentment.

The way he’d started timing his breaks to coincide with hers, finding excuses to visit navigation, learning her schedule well enough to accidentally run into her during shift changes. It’s complicated, he said finally. Inner species relationships have regulations and protocols and and you’re overthinking it because you’re afraid of screwing up again. Petrov said bluntly.

Chen, you already had the most embarrassing possible first interaction. Everything after that is improvement. Just talk to her. Ask if this is friendship or something else. Worst case, you get clarity. Best case, you stop being the only person on the ship who doesn’t know you’re already in a relationship. The conversation haunted Marcus for 3 days until Crisis made the decision for him.

The convergence encountered spatial anomaly in uncharted space, a tear in normal spaceime that played havoc with navigation systems and threatened to pull the ship off course. Kaye went into crisis mode, working 18-hour shifts, trying to plot safe passage through readings that changed faster than her instruments could track them. Marcus watched her deteriorate over those three days.

Her patterns went from controlled blues to erratic flickering that screamed exhaustion and stress. She stopped eating regularly, barely slept, and snapped at crew members with uncharacteristic irritation when they suggested she take breaks. On the third day, Marcus found her alone in navigation during what should have been her sleep shift.

She was staring at holographic projections of the anomaly, her patterns flickering so erratically they were almost strobing, colors bleeding into each other in ways that looked wrong. Kaye, she didn’t respond. Didn’t even seem to hear him. Kaye, you need rest. Can’t have to solve this. If I don’t map a course through the anomaly soon, we’ll have to backtrack 3 weeks, which puts us behind schedule for resupply, which means which means you’ll have failed, Marcus said quietly, understanding suddenly. Andrathi, don’t fail. Especially not high achieving

young navigators trying to prove they deserve their position on a prestigious mixed species vessel. Her patterns flared with something between anger and fear. You don’t understand. But I understand that you’re pushing yourself to collapse because you’ve tied your worth to perfect performance and I understand that’s not sustainable and I understand that right now you need someone to tell you it’s okay to be human. Velasi, you know what I mean? I can’t stop.

If I stop, I’ll lose the pattern, lose the solution, lose. Then don’t stop thinking about it, but sit down. Let me bring you food and let me talk to you while you work because I promise listening to my stupid stories won’t interfere with your brilliant navigation and might help your brain process information better. Kaye looked at him with those large eyes, her pattern still flickering erratically, clearly torn between duty and exhaustion. Why? Because you helped me when I was embarrassed and floundering.

because your patterns are screaming stress and I can read them now thanks to you teaching me because Marcus paused decided to be honest because I care about you and watching you hurt yourself trying to be perfect is making me hurt too and I’m asking you to let me help even if it’s just sitting here and telling you about the time my brother accidentally joined a pyramid scheme selling revolutionary toothpaste something in her expression cracked her patterns didn’t stabilize, but the erratic flickering slowed slightly. She sat down, and Marcus

immediately pulled up a chair beside her navigation console. “Tell me about the toothpaste,” she said quietly. So, Marcus talked. He told her about his brother’s terrible business decisions, about his sister’s wedding disaster involving escaped chickens and a caterer with a grudge, about the time he accidentally learned conversational Mandarin because he thought he was signing up for a cooking class.

Stupid human stories told in rambling detail while he monitored her patterns, watching the erratic flickering gradually stabilize into calmer rhythms. Kaye kept working, her hands moving across holographic controls, her eyes tracking data streams, but her patterns slowly shifted from stress white to tired blues.

After an hour, she started interjecting questions, making comments, even laughing softly at particularly ridiculous parts of his stories. After 3 hours, her patterns had settled into the soft, regular pulse that indicated deep concentration without stress. She was still working, still solving the impossible navigation problem.

But her movements were smoother, her breathing steadier. After 6 hours, Marcus ran out of family stories and started making things up. Increasingly absurd tales about fictional relatives and their improbable adventures. Kaye called him on it around hour 7, but she was smiling, her patterns warm with affection. “You’re a terrible liar,” she said, still studying navigation data. “Your thermal patterns spike when you fabricate. I’m an excellent liar.

You’re just too good at reading me now. Perhaps,” she made a final adjustment to her calculations, and her patterns flared bright with triumph and relief. “I have it, a safe route through the anomaly. It’s going to be tight, but it’s navigable. That’s amazing. You’re amazing. Kaye turned to look at him fully for the first time in hours, and her patterns shifted to colors.

His database didn’t have names for soft pinks mixed with warm golds and something silver that looked like starlight. You stayed with me for 6 hours, just talking, keeping me calm. 7 hours, actually. You kept working for another hour after you fell asleep. Her patterns flickered with surprise. I fell asleep around hour 4, but your patterns settled into that deep rest pulse, and you seemed peaceful. So, I just kept talking and monitoring to make sure you stayed that way.

Figured your subconscious could work on the problem while your conscious mind got rest it desperately needed. Kaye stared at him with an expression Marcus couldn’t quite read, though her patterns were definitely communicating something intense. You stayed here for 3 hours talking to me while I slept to keep me calm, to help me rest. Well, yes.

Is that was that wrong? Interspecies protocol about sleeping around friends wait that came out wrong. I meant Marcus. She reached out and took his hand, her skin warm and her patterns blazing with colors that made his heart stutter. No one has ever done that for me before. Wrath value independence, self-sufficiency. We don’t ask for help.

Don’t show weakness. Don’t admit we need support. But you gave it anyway without asking, without making it seem like I was failing by accepting. You just cared. Of course I cared. Your Marcus stopped struggled with words. You’re important to me, more than just a crew mate or even a friend.

You’re someone I think about constantly. Someone whose patterns I can read across crowded rooms. Someone who makes me laugh and challenges me to be better and whose company I crave like humans crave coffee. So yes, I stayed with you while you worked yourself into exhaustion because the alternative was leaving you alone to suffer and I couldn’t do that.

I care about you too much. The silence stretched between them, charged with something Marcus couldn’t name, but desperately wanted to understand. Kayle’s pattern cycled through colors so quickly he couldn’t track them all. But he caught warm pinks, soft golds, that silvery starlight shimmer that seemed to indicate something beyond his current vocabulary.

“I’m going to try something human now,” Kaye said carefully. And you have to tell me if I’m misunderstanding the protocols, but I believe in human culture when two people care about each other beyond friendship, when they spend significant time together and think about each other constantly and can read each other’s emotional states. There’s a specific term for that relationship.

There are several terms, Marcus said, his mouth dry. depending on the level of commitment in dating. Kaye interrupted. I believe humans call the exploratory phase dating. Is that correct? That’s yes, that’s correct. And would you be interested in dating me, Marcus Chen? Despite the interspecies complications and the regulations and the fact that I caught you staring at my butt three months ago and turned it into shipwide entertainment.

Marcus looked at her hand in his at her patterns blazing with colors that definitely indicated hope and nervousness and affection. He thought about the last three months of learning each other’s languages, verbal and nonverbal, about laughter shared and silences comfortable, about the way his heart jumped whenever she entered a room and the way she always seemed to know when he needed distraction or support.

I would be extremely interested in dating you, he said. Even though I’m probably going to continue being awkward and accidentally creating interspecies incidents. It seems to be my talent. Kayle’s patterns exploded into brilliant yellows and golds. That involuntary joy response she couldn’t control even if she wanted to.

Good, because I’m going to continue finding your awkwardness endearing instead of embarrassing. And that seems like a solid foundation for this experiment. Dating as an experiment, very romantic. I’m veli. We don’t do romantic. We do precise and methodical. Her patterns betrayed her, flickering with warm colors that suggested she was absolutely lying. Besides, you’re human. You can provide the romance for both of us. Deal.

I’ll be romantic enough for two species. They sat there in navigation, hands linked, patterns and expressions, both broadcasting emotions too complex for simple language. Eventually, they’d have to notify command, navigate regulations, figure out what interspecies dating even meant in practical terms.

But for now, in this quiet moment after crisis, there was just a tired navigator and an awkward engineer who’d stumbled into something neither had planned but both wanted. For the record, Kaye said as they finally left navigation toward actual sleep quarters, I was never actually angry about you staring at my butt. I was amused from the start, but watching you panic was too entertaining to interrupt immediately. That’s terrible. You’re terrible. I’mrathy.

We have very long attention spans for entertainment. Her patterns danced with mischief. Get used to it, boyfriend. That’s the correct human term. Yes, that’s we just decided to date like 5 minutes ago. Boyfriend seems fast. Too fast? Her patterns flickered with uncertainty. No, Marcus said quickly. Not too fast, just accurate and efficient. Very velathy of you.

I’m learning from the best, Kaye said. And her patterns settled into those warm content colors that Marcus now recognized as his favorite shade in the universe. They walked through the ship’s corridors holding hands, ignoring the knowing looks from human crew members and the approving pattern displays from tomorrow. They’d deal with regulations and protocols.

Tonight, they’d sleep soundly, knowing that the most embarrassing beginning had led to something neither had expected, but both treasured. And somewhere on the crew gossip channels, bets were being settled about the timeline of the navigator and the engineer who’d started with butts and ended with feelings. Best inner species incident the convergence had ever hosted.

Everyone agreed, even if Marcus was still blushing about it. News of Marcus and Kayle’s official relationship status spread through the convergence faster than a whole breach alert, which Marcus discovered when he arrived at breakfast to find his usual table had been rearranged into what could only be described as a celebration setup.

Human crew members had somehow acquired decorations. Where did they even get decorations on a starship? and several crew members were displaying pattern combinations that his education now identified as communal joy and approval. “I hate all of you,” Marcus announced to the assembled crowd. “You love us,” Petrov corrected cheerfully.

“We’re celebrating your successful navigation of interspecies romance. See what I did there? Navigation? Because she’s a navigator.” I got it. It wasn’t clever. It was a little clever, Kaye said, appearing at his elbow with patterns dancing through amused colors. She’d clearly been expecting this reception and was enjoying his discomfort. They decorated.

That’s considered romantic in human culture. Correct. When the decorations aren’t specifically about your relationship becoming public knowledge within 12 hours of it existing. Yes. Efficiency. Kaye said primly. Word travels quickly on ships. We simply acknowledge the inevitable. Lieutenant Morrison raised a glass of what Marcus didn’t want to know given it was 700 hours to Chen and Kaye proving that awkward beginnings lead to beautiful outcomes.

To cultural exchange, someone shouted to love across species. Another voice added to Marcus learning what butts are actually for. Petrov yelled, and Marcus decided that was his cue to find literally anywhere else to be. “I’m eating in engineering,” he muttered. “You’re eating here with me,” Kaye said firmly, guiding him to the table with a hand on his arm that made her claim clear to anyone watching. “Your species values communal celebration.

This is communal celebration. We’re participating. My species also values dignity, and I have none left.” You have plenty of dignity. You simply choose to be embarrassed about positive attention, which is a fascinating human contradiction I’m still studying. They sat, endured approximately 30 minutes of teasing that ranged from goodnatured to borderline inappropriate, and eventually the crew settled into normal breakfast routine.

Marcus relaxed fractionally, realizing that despite the teasing, the overwhelming vibe was approval. His human colleagues were genuinely happy for him. The Velvrai crew seemed pleased by the successful cross species connection, their patterns constantly displaying those warm, encouraging colors. This isn’t terrible, he admitted quietly to Kaye.

Humans rarely make anything terrible when they’re intent. I’m going to save us all time, William said, pulling up a data pad. I’ve been monitoring your developing relationship since the butt incident. Yes, that’s what it’s called in my reports. Chen, deal with it. I’ve consulted with cultural liaison officers from both species.

I’ve reviewed coalition regulations on interspecies relationships, and I’ve observed your interactions for the past 3 months. Marcus’ stomach dropped. Sir, we weren’t trying to hide anything. I know you weren’t hiding anything because you’re both terrible at subtlety. Williams almost smiled. Chen, you rearrange your entire schedule to coincide with navigator Kay’s.

Kaye, your pattern displays around Chen have been obvious to anyone with basic education for weeks. The entire crew has been running a bedding pool on when you’d officially acknowledge the relationship. A bedding pool, Marcus repeated weakly. Petrov one, if you’re curious, he called it at 3 months, 2 weeks, 3 days. very precise. William set down his data pad. Here’s my official position.

Your relationship doesn’t violate any regulations. You’re in different departments with no direct chain of command issues. Your work performance has actually improved since you started whatever this is. And frankly, successful interspecies relationships help overall crew cohesion and serve as excellent models for coalition integration efforts.

So, we’re approved, Kaye asked, her patterns flickering with cautious hope. You’re approved with conditions. Williams leaned forward. First, you maintain professional behavior during duty shifts. Second, you attend the mandatory cultural counseling sessions for interspecies couples. Yes, those exist, and yes, they’re required.

Third, you serve as resources for other crew members interested in crossspecies relationships. Fourth, and most importantly, you figure out how to navigate the inevitable challenges that come from biological and cultural differences, and you communicate honestly when problems arise. We can do that, Marcus said. I know you can. You’ve been doing it already.

William stood, signaling the meeting’s end. Dismissed. And Chen, try not to create any more viral incidents. One per tour is the limit. They left command feeling lighter despite the counseling requirements and resource responsibilities. Kayle’s patterns had shifted to brilliant golds and pinks that broadcast her relief and happiness to anyone with eyes.

That went well, she said once they were in the corridor. Better than expected. I was prepared for forms and protocols and possibly a lecture on appropriate workplace behavior. Your commanding officer is pragmatic. He recognized that preventing our relationship would be more disruptive than allowing it with oversight. Kayle’s ears tilted forward thoughtfully, though I’m curious about these cultural counseling sessions.

What do inner species couples need counseling about? They found out two weeks later in their first session with Dr. Yinara, awrathy psychologist specializing in cross-cultural relationships. The session covered everything from communication style differences to biological incompatibilities to long-term planning considerations Marcus hadn’t even thought about. Humans express affection through physical touch.

Doctor Yinara explained express affection through pattern displays and time sharing. These aren’t incompatible, but they require conscious translation. Marcus, when you want to hold Kayle’s hand, you’re seeking physical connection. Kaye, when you display warm patterns around Marcus, you’re offering emotional connection. Both are valid.

Both require the other person to recognize and reciprocate appropriately. So when Marcus reaches for my hand, Kaye said slowly, I should recognize that as equivalent to me shifting my patterns to affectionate colors. Exactly. and Marcus. When Kayle’s patterns warm around you, that’s her version of reaching out to hold your hand. Acknowledge it. Respond to it.

Marcus thought about all the times Kayle’s patterns had shifted to those warm pinks and golds, and he’d simply enjoyed them without realizing they were active bids for connection that deserved response. “I’ve been terrible at this. You’ve been learning.” Dr. Yinara corrected. both of you. That’s what these sessions are for, accelerating the learning process before small misunderstandings become major conflicts.

But the sessions helped, but the real education came from daily navigation of their relationship. Marcus learned that needed more personal space than humans. That Kayle’s need for solitude wasn’t rejection, but biological requirement for emotional regulation. Kaye learned that humans needed verbal affirmation more than that.

That Marcus saying, “I love you,” wasn’t redundant, even when his feelings were obvious, but rather a necessary part of how humans processed and confirmed attachment. They learned together, stumbling frequently, but always catching each other. Six months into their relationship, the Convergence completed its mission and returned to coalition space for crew rotation.

Marcus and Kaye face their first major decision, whether to request continued assignment together or accept separate postings. My next assignment is deep space exploration, Kaye said, her patterns carefully neutral. 18-month mission surveying uncharted systems. I requested it before we started dating. That’s That’s incredible. That’s what you’ve always wanted.

Yes, but it means 18 months without you. Marcus felt his heart contract. 18 months was longer than they’d been together. Do you still want it? I don’t know. Her patterns flickered with unusual uncertainty. Before you, deep space exploration was my primary goal. Now you’re also primary and I don’t know how to wait competing priorities. How do humans make these decisions? Badly.

Usually we agonize and overthink and ultimately go with our gut feeling which is terrible decision-making process but somehow works anyway. Marcus took her hand. That gesture they’d both learned meant comfort and connection. What does your gut tell you? that exploring unknown systems would be fascinating and that missing you for 18 months would be painful. Her patterns shifted to conflicted blues and golds. I want both.

I can’t have both. This is frustrating. What if? Marcus hesitated, testing an idea. What if you take the exploration assignment and I request temporary reassignment to Earth? I’ve been meaning to visit family and 18 months would let me do that properly. We’d both get what we want professionally, and when we meet back up, we’d have experiences to share rather than resentment about sacrificed opportunities.

Kayle’s patterns flickered rapidly, processing. You would be okay with separation. Human bonding patterns suggest you’d find it difficult. I would find it incredibly difficult, Marcus admitted. But I’d find it worse if you gave up your dreams for me. And honestly, 18 months of missing, you might be good for us.

Prove the relationship works even when we’re not in constant contact. Come back together stronger. That’s surprisingly mature for someone who stared at my butt and panicked. I’ve grown as a person. You’ve been a bad influence. They chose separation, though neither felt entirely good about it. The goodbye at the docking station was complicated.

Marcus trying not to cry in front of assembled crew members. Kayle’s pattern cycling through colors that broadcast her conflicted emotions to everyone watching. 18 months, she said, holding both his hands in a gesture that was pure human affection translated through willingness. Then we meet on Sigma station and decide next steps together. 18 months, Marcus agreed.

I’m going to miss you constantly. I’ll miss you, too. My patterns will be sad colors the entire mission. My crew will find it disturbing. Good. They should know you’re suffering from being away from your awkward human boyfriend. Partner Kaye corrected. Boyfriend feels too temporary. You’re more permanent than that. Marcus’s chest got tight in that way.

Emotions made humans physically uncomfortable. Partner, I like that. They kissed goodbye, a gesture they’d both learned and practiced. Human intimacy translated across species boundaries. Then Kaye boarded her ship with her patterns displaying colors that Marcus now understood meant love and hope and determination and grief all mixed together.

The 18 months were exactly as difficult as predicted. They communicated through text messages when possible, through recorded videos when their ships were close enough to relay stations, through the constant ache of missing someone who’d become integral to their daily existence.

Marcus spent time with family, told them about his alien navigator partner, endured well-meaning questions about how interspecies relationships even worked. His sister gave him relationship advice that was surprisingly applicable despite the species difference. His brother gave him terrible advice that was applicable to nothing. His parents simply seemed happy he was happy, which was enough.

Kaye explored unknown systems, mapped strange stellar phenomena, sent him messages about discoveries that made his heart swell with pride at her brilliance. She also sent messages about missing stupid human things like his jokes and his facial expressions and the way he’d explain concepts through unnecessarily elaborate metaphors.

When they finally reunited on Sigma station 18 months later, Marcus saw her across the docking bay and felt everything hit at once. Love and relief and joy and the bone deep brightness of being near her again. Kayle’s patterns exploded into colors so bright they were visible across the entire bay, broadcasting her emotions to anyone watching.

They collided in the middle of the docking area, Marcus lifting her slightly off her feet in a hug that was pure human enthusiasm. Kayle’s patterns blazing with happiness while her arms wrapped around him with velra strength. “I missed you,” Marcus said into her shoulder. “I missed you constantly,” Kaye replied. My crew thought I was dying. Velra don’t typically display sad colors for 18 consecutive months. Your crew is going to have to get used to you being weird now.

I’ve corrupted you with human emotional expression. Yes, you have. It’s terrible. I hate it. Her patterns betrayed her, showing nothing but joy and love and contentment at being back together. They talked for hours in a station cafe, sharing experiences and discoveries and all the small moments they’d accumulated separately. Kaye had samples from three new planetary systems.

Marcus had embarrassing family stories and proof that human weddings were universally disasters waiting to happen. So what now? Marcus finally asked. You’ve completed your dream assignment. I’ve done the family thing. Where do we go from here? Kayle’s pattern shifted thoughtfully. There’s a new posting. Mixed species research station studying joint operations and cultural integration.

They need both navigation specialists and engineering experts. The position is permanent, not rotational. It would mean settling down instead of deep space adventure. Is that what you want after 18 months of exploration? I want to be with you, Kaye said simply. The exploration was incredible, but every discovery I wanted to share with you immediately.

Every beautiful system I wished you could see it. I realized that adventure is less important than partnership. That having someone to share experiences with matters more than what experiences you’re having. Marcus felt his eyes getting damp in that embarrassing human way. That’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me. I learned from the best.

Her pattern shifted to teasing golds. So, research station together. Together, Marcus confirmed. Always together from now on. Well, except when we’re in different shifts or need personal space or when I inevitably do something stupid that requires temporary separation while you calm down. That That’s understood. Kaye smiled.

that expression that still took his breath away months into their relationship. I’m accepting the position tomorrow. You should probably apply before they fill the engineering slot. Already done. I applied 3 weeks ago when you mentioned the posting. Figured worst case I could always withdraw if you wanted something else. Her patterns flared with surprise and affection. You planned this. That’s very unmarcuslike.

I’ve grown. You’re a good influence. I really am. They spent the next two days on Sigma Station before heading to their new assignment, making up for 18 months of separation with constant proximity and the kind of intense reconnection that made their emotions exhausting but wonderful.

When they finally boarded the transport to the research station, holding hands and patterns displaying their happiness to anyone watching, Marcus thought about how far they’d come from that first embarrassing encounter. From awkward misunderstanding about rank markings and posterior observation to partnership built on mutual respect and cultural translation.

From stammering excuses to confident declarations of feeling. from two people from different species to two people who’d built their own shared culture that borrowed from both. Thank you, he said to Kaye as the station disappeared behind them. For what? For laughing that first time instead of reporting me. For turning my embarrassment into something beautiful. For teaching me your patterns.

For being patient while I learned. For existing. But Kayle’s patterns shifted through every warm color in her spectrum, broadcasting love so clearly that even the transport crew could probably read it. Thank you for staring at my butt in the first place. Best accidental cultural incident ever. I was studying rank markings. Sure you were human.

Sure you were. They laughed together. Human laughter and laughter. Different in tone but identical in warmth. And somewhere behind them, Sigma Station logged another successful interspecies relationship in coalition records. Years later, when researchers studied integration success stories, Marcus and Kay’s relationship became a