Chapter 33 - On Approach

The next few days were a blur. We were on the final approach to Proxima Centauri b, and the excitement on the ship was palpable. Days were spent monitoring the probes and satellites we'd deployed, making sure they were on track to intercept the orbits of planets "d" and "c." Everyone was busy, focused, driven by the mission.

But even amidst the intense activity, I found myself constantly drawn to Emily. It was becoming… a lot.

The bridge was quiet, the only sounds the soft hum of the ship and the gentle tapping of Emily's keys on her console. It was just the two of us, surrounded by blinking monitors and the vast, star-studded expanse beyond the viewport. It was a scene that should have been peaceful, serene even, but all I felt was a knot of tension coiling tighter in my gut.

I was supposed to be reviewing the latest telemetry data, but the numbers on the screen swam in front of my eyes, meaningless. All I could focus on was Emily. The way her hair curled around her face as she leaned over her console, the focused furrow of her brow, the way her lips pursed in concentration as she worked, intently focused on the monitors ahead. She was completely absorbed in her work, oblivious to the storm raging inside me. And fuck, she was beautiful.

I tried to focus on the data, I really did. But it was useless. My attention kept drifting back to her, to the curve of her neck, the delicate line of her jaw. Get a grip, Luca, I told myself. You're the Captain, act like it.

Just being near her was… distracting.

“Taking a break,” I murmured, coming up behind her and gently turning her chair. She looked up, surprised, and I just leaned in, my voice low. “You’ve been running me ragged, you know that?”

I said, referencing a certain moment on this very bridge that still made my pulse quicken. She just smiled, a knowing glint in her eyes, before turning back to her console, leaving me to try and regain my focus on the mission, which felt like a losing battle.

---

Later, in the lounge, trying to unwind with a game, Emily joined me. It was late, and everyone else had already turned in. Her presence alone made it impossible to concentrate. She was close, the warmth radiating from her a clear dichotomy from her icy appendages in bed. Things escalated quickly, and soon we were caught up in a moment that was rapidly going out of control.

Just then, the corridor light flared, and Ryan walked in, searching for his tablet. Adrenaline shot through me as I quickly threw a blanket over Emily, the unspoken tension hanging thick in the air until he left, oblivious. Emily emerged from under the blanket, a flushed smile playing on her lips, and I couldn't help but shake my head.

“You are going to be the death of me,” I whispered. She just laughed softly, that knowing look back in her eyes.

---

The galley was a goddamn ghost town, the only sound the constant hum of the ship and the tap-tap-tap of my fingers on the laptop. It was mid-morning, and everyone was off doing their own thing, which usually meant I was stuck dealing with all the crap nobody else wanted to touch. I'd managed to snag the large stainless steel table, which was usually a battleground during meal times, but right now it was just me and my increasingly cold coffee.

Today's mission: Zoe’s flight plan. I'd been staring at the damn thing since breakfast, trying to make sense of all the lines and the waypoints. It was a standard flight plan, nothing too fancy, which meant Zoe was probably bored out of her mind. I scanned over the route, from the Triumph of Darron to the drop point, then to the landing zone near the equator.

This was going to be a piece of cake, for someone like her, or Ryan. I wasn’t really sure why I was going over it. As long as we landed, it was all good in my book. But I had to sign off on it, because Captain stuff, which was seriously the most pointless crap. I took a swig of my coffee, grimacing at the lukewarm, slightly bitter taste.

Then there was the inventory list, a never-ending scroll of equipment, supplies, and other crap we were lugging down to Proxima Centauri b for a couple of weeks of sample collecting and survey work. I scanned through it again, my eyes glazing over at the long lists of probes, sensors, rock hammers, food rations, and, of course, the ever-present supply of protein bars. I swear, Ryan must have some kind of protein bar fetish.

Speaking of Ryan, I bet he was probably in his engineering bay, taking a nap or whatever he did when he wasn't fucking around with Danny or napping. It was amazing he got anything done, but I knew, deep down, he was actually useful when he wasn't being a lazy ass. That's more than I can say for Chris, the gym jock who called himself a communications officer. Who the hell was Chris even talking to? Space squirrels?

I scrolled through the list, wondering if anything was missing. Then it hit me. Where the hell was all our armor and energy weapons? We were level-capped at level sixty, and we were all itching to get past that, hoping Proxima Centauri b would be the key. That meant we needed to make damn sure that we had all our energy cells, energy weapons, and our armor. I pulled up a separate inventory log, because of course that information was on a separate database, and started cross-referencing, a frown creasing my forehead. Yep, something was missing, a whole bunch of something. I made a note to check with Joey, that little shit was always messing with my gear, I swear. Probably hiding my damn blaster again.

Other important things, like extra socks or maybe some real coffee, were also missing. It was my turn to do laundry, and with the way Emily had been chasing me down the corridors of this goddamn ship, all my socks were probably soaked with sweat. Seriously, that girl was a menace, a beautiful, unstoppable, chaos-inducing menace. I was probably running a permanent fever just from the heat that radiated off her, and my brain was always fried from lack of sleep. I should really just call her in here now.

I sighed, rubbing my temples, willing the coffee to magically become caffeinated, and for Emily to just show up already. Maybe if I closed my eyes for a minute... no, no, get back to work, Luca. I had to assign duties, decide who was carrying what, what our first, second, and third priorities would be when we landed, what gear we’d be lugging around. I glanced at the clock, wondering when Emily would grace me with her presence.

She hadn’t been to the mess hall all day. Was she avoiding me? No, she would never be able to resist... I shook my head. Focus, Luca. There were lists to be managed, people to be organized, a planet to be explored, a level gap to break. I needed another coffee.

The clock on my laptop flashed 11:58, almost lunchtime, which meant I could finally escape the drudgery of the flight plan and inventory lists. I quickly closed everything down, stowing the laptop in its case, and headed for the lift. As the doors hissed open on my deck, I saw her, Emily, leaning against the wall, her arms crossed, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She looked incredible in that tight white bodysuit, the fabric showing every curve, and my mouth went dry. She straightened as I approached, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Hey, Captain," she said, her voice a low purr.

"Hey yourself," I replied, trying to sound casual, but my pulse was already quickening. I unlocked my cabin door, stepping inside, and she followed, her eyes never leaving mine. I tossed my laptop case onto the small desk, turning to face her. We were only inches apart, and the air between us felt charged.

Before I could say anything, her hands were on me, not pulling me close, but guiding me back, towards the bed. She was playful, dominant, her eyes locked on mine, and I found myself stumbling backwards, landing on the edge of the mattress. Then, with a small, confident movement, she climbed in after me, straddling my lap, her hands resting on my shoulders, her weight settling comfortably on me. It was definitely a power move, and I was enjoying being under her spell.

My hands instinctively moved towards the zipper of her suit, wanting to feel her skin underneath, but before I could, a thought struck me. I pulled back a little, my hands pausing near her zipper. “Hey,” I began, a slightly more serious tone entering my voice. “We need to… be careful, right?”

She stilled, her fingers tracing the line of my jaw, her gaze softening slightly. “Careful?” she echoed, a hint of playful confusion in her voice.

“Yeah,” I said, feeling a bit awkward suddenly shifting gears. “I mean… about… you know…” I gestured vaguely downwards, feeling my cheeks flush a little. “Are we… are we equipped for… you know, that kind of careful?” The word ‘pregnancy’ felt too heavy to say out loud in this charged moment, but the implication hung in the air. I loved her energy, loved this, but a sudden wave of responsibility washed over me.

Emily’s expression softened into something warm and amused. She cooed softly, reaching out to poke me gently on the nose. “Oh, Luca,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “You worry too much. It’s actually kind of cute.”

“Cute?” I repeated, a little bewildered, but also relieved she wasn’t annoyed.

“Cute,” she confirmed, poking my nose again. “Relax, Captain. We’re on birth control.”

“We are?” I asked, surprised. “Since when?”

“Since before we left Sol,” she replied, her smile widening. “Zoe and I. It was a direct requirement from Karen, remember? Part of the whole ‘long-duration mission, responsible crew’ briefing.”

“Right,” I said slowly, did I miss that briefing? Karen had been thorough. “I just… hadn’t really… thought about it, I guess, with… everything.” I gestured between us, the underlying tension still humming.

Emily’s smile softened further. “I know,” she murmured, leaning closer again, the playful energy returning, but now tinged with a comforting reassurance. “But yes, Captain. We’re covered. So you can relax… and focus on other things.” Her fingers traced the zipper of my own suit, and the earlier heat began to build again, the worry momentarily receding.

And then, just as things were definitely about to shift back into a different gear, the ship-wide intercom crackled to life, shattering the intimate bubble.

“Come on you lovers, it's lunchtime,” Ryan's voice boomed through the cabin, laced with that familiar sarcastic tone. "We're all waiting for you."

I pulled back, a frustrated groan escaping my lips. Of all the people, why did it have to be Ryan? I glanced at Emily, who was now giggling, a smug smile playing on her lips.

"Looks like we're out of time," she said, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she adjusted her bodysuit, the zipper closing with a soft shick . She leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to my lips. "Don't worry," she whispered, "we'll continue this later." And with that, she slipped out of my cabin, leaving me standing there, frustrated, aroused, and now also feeling a little foolish for my sudden bout of worry.

"What an asshole," I muttered about Ryan, running a hand through my hair, trying to shake off the lingering effects of Emily's touch. I sighed, adjusted my own suit, and then followed her out of the cabin.

And then, just like that, it was day eight. Arrival day. Proxima Centauri b loomed large, a swirling canvas of reds and oranges, filling the viewport. We'd made it. We'd actually made it.