Chapter 17 Return to Sender #2
“The Pleasure Gardens specialize in... comprehensive relaxation and wellness services,” Mother explains with obvious amusement at our growing understanding.
“The cultural exchange program focuses on inter-species compatibility research and relationship enhancement techniques. Very scientific. Very hands-on. Very... educational.”
Understanding dawns like a sunrise, and I feel heat rise in my cheeks as the implications become clear. “You’re sending us on a honeymoon mission.”
“I am assigning you a legitimate diplomatic courier delivery that happens to take place in a resort system renowned for its romantic accommodations and relationship enrichment programs,” Mother corrects with prim professionalism that doesn’t quite hide her satisfaction.
“Any personal benefits you derive from the location and activities are entirely coincidental to your professional responsibilities.”
I catch the slight tension in Wi’kar’s frame that suggests he’s having significant difficulty maintaining professional composure while processing the implications of spending two weeks at a luxury resort specifically designed for couples.
“Assignment duration?” he asks with admirable formality despite the way his voice has dropped half an octave.
“Two weeks minimum,” Mother replies with growing amusement. “Possibly three, depending on how thoroughly you need to... research the cultural exchange protocols and compatibility enhancement programs.”
“We accept,” I say immediately, before either of us can overthink the implications of Mother essentially paying us to spend two weeks at what sounds like the galaxy’s most exclusive romantic resort.
“Excellent,” Mother says with deep satisfaction. “Your vessel has been completely restocked and refueled. Assignment briefing materials are already uploaded to AXIS, along with... supplementary educational resources relevant to your destination.”
“Supplementary resources?” I ask with growing curiosity and anticipation.
“Cultural preparation materials,” Mother explains blandly. “Relationship dynamics research. Compatibility optimization techniques. Very thorough documentation.”
“Actually,” I interrupt, remembering something important, “there’s one more thing I need to handle before we depart.”
Mother’s expression sharpens with professional interest. “What kind of requirement?”
“I need to send a message to my father,” I explain, surprised by how calm I feel about the prospect. “He probably believes I’m dead or worse, and while I’m completely finished with royal obligations, I don’t want him worrying unnecessarily about my wellbeing.”
“Thoughtful,” Mother approves with what might be genuine warmth. “OOPS can arrange secure communication through diplomatic channels. What exactly do you want to convey?”
I consider the question seriously, thinking about the man who raised me for duty but never bothered to ask what I actually wanted from my life. How do you explain to someone who sees people as political assets that freedom feels more like home than any palace ever did?
“I want to tell him I’m alive, I’m genuinely happy, and I’m exactly where I belong,” I decide finally. “That I’m sorry for disappointing his expectations, but I’m not sorry for choosing my own path instead of the one he selected for me.”
“And if he requests your return?” Mother presses with the kind of practical concern that suggests she’s already considered multiple scenarios.
“Then I’ll explain that I am home,” I reply, glancing at Wi’kar with absolute certainty. “My home isn’t a location anymore. It’s a person.”
Wi’kar’s hand tightens on mine, and the warmth in his eyes makes my chest flutter with affection and unwavering certainty. This is what love is supposed to feel like—not duty or political convenience or resigned acceptance, but choice and partnership and absolute trust.
“AXIS,” Mother addresses our ship’s AI directly, “you’re gaining a permanent crew member with unique operational requirements. Think you can handle relationship counseling protocols along with your regular system management duties?”
“I have been conducting extensive observational analysis and behavioral pattern documentation,” AXIS replies with what sounds suspiciously like artificial pride. “I believe I am adequately prepared for ongoing... partnership support protocols and compatibility maintenance systems.”
“Partnership support protocols?” I question with growing amusement.
“AXIS has been taking notes,” Wi’kar explains with the kind of fond exasperation that suggests our AI has been more intrusive than I realized. “Detailed notes. With recommendations.”
“Recommendations for what?”
“Optimal interaction parameters,” AXIS supplies helpfully. “Environmental adjustments for enhanced comfort. Scheduling suggestions for maximum relationship satisfaction. Comprehensive romantic gesture analysis.”
“Our AI is giving us relationship advice,” I summarize with delight.
“Our AI has been conducting unauthorized sociological research using us as test subjects,” Wi’kar corrects, though he sounds more amused than annoyed.
“It was highly educational,” AXIS defends. “The transition from colleagues to mates provided fascinating data regarding organic bonding behaviors and attachment formation protocols.”
“Good,” Mother says briskly, clearly enjoying our predicament. “Then you’re completely prepared for departure. Official OOPS credentials and security clearances will be waiting for Partner Dominique at the Huxaria Prime diplomatic station. Try not to cause any additional inter-galactic incidents.”
“No promises,” I reply honestly, earning a snort of amusement from Mother and a look of resigned acceptance from Wi’kar.
“I would be surprised if you managed two weeks without creating some form of diplomatic complication,” Mother admits. “Just try to keep it to minor incidents rather than major inter-species conflicts.”
“Minor incidents are well within acceptable parameters,” Wi’kar agrees solemnly.
After the communication ends, we spend the morning completing departure preparations and composing my message to my father.
The words come easier than I expected, flowing from a place of certainty rather than guilt or defensive justification.
I am sorry for worrying him, but I am not sorry for becoming myself instead of the person he wanted me to be.
The Protocol Prime feels different as we prepare for departure—not like Wi’kar’s ship that I happen to be traveling on, but like our ship, our home, our shared space designed around both our needs and preferences.
AXIS has even adjusted environmental controls to what the AI describes as “optimized atmospheric conditions for bi-species cohabitation and enhanced comfort protocols.”
“Ready for departure?” Wi’kar asks as we settle onto the bridge, his movements carrying the easy confidence of someone completely comfortable with his environment and his crew—his partner.
“Ready,” I confirm, though I pause to look around the space with new appreciation and possessive satisfaction. “You know, when I first stowed away on this ship, I was running from something. Now I feel like I’m running toward something.”
“Toward what specifically?” he asks with genuine curiosity, his attention focused on me with the kind of complete focus that still makes my breath catch.
“Everything,” I reply simply, though the word carries the weight of genuine wonder. “Adventure, partnership, a future I get to choose. A life where I wake up every morning next to someone who sees me as a person instead of a political asset or marriage commodity.”
His patterns pulse brighter, and he reaches for my hand with the casual familiarity that still makes my heart skip with joy and possessive satisfaction.
“AXIS,” he commands with professional efficiency, “initiate departure sequence.”
“Departure sequence initiated,” AXIS responds with characteristic precision. “Destination: Huxaria Prime Pleasure Gardens Resort and Cultural Exchange Facility. Estimated travel time: four days through hyperspace. Recommend reviewing supplementary educational materials during transit.”
“Educational materials?” I ask with growing anticipation and curiosity.
“AXIS believes we will require enhanced cultural preparation protocols for optimal mission performance,” Wi’kar explains with perfect seriousness, though his eyes are definitely laughing and something much more intense.
“Enhanced cultural preparation,” I repeat thoughtfully, my pulse quickening at the implications. “That sounds very... comprehensive.”
“I believe in thorough mission preparation and protocol adherence,” he replies, his voice dropping to that possessive tone that makes heat pool low in my belly and my breathing go shallow.
“Thorough preparation,” I agree, rising from my chair with deliberate intent. “I do appreciate a man who pays attention to details.”
As we clear Umbra-7’s gravity well and prepare for the jump to hyperspace, I settle back with deep satisfaction and growing anticipation.
Six months ago, I was a princess trapped by duty and political expectations, resigned to a lifetime of marrying someone who made my skin crawl.
Today, I’m a courier apprentice heading off on my first official mission with my partner, my mate, my chosen future—to a resort specifically designed for couples to explore compatibility and enhance their relationships.
“AXIS,” I call out sweetly, “engage privacy protocols. I think Wi’kar’s stress levels may require some immediate attention before we review those educational materials.”
“Privacy protocols engaged,” AXIS responds with what I absolutely know is artificial smugness. “Hyperspace jump in three... two... one...”
As the stars blur past us and we slip into the safety of hyperspace, Wi’kar turns to me with an expression of heat and promise that makes my breath catch and my pulse race with anticipation.
“Four days until we reach our assignment,” he observes, rising from his chair with predatory grace that makes me feel like prey in the most delicious way possible.
“Four days,” I agree, standing to meet him halfway with my own predatory intent. “However will we pass the time?”
His answer is wordless but extremely thorough and involves backing me against the bulkhead with the kind of controlled intensity that makes me grateful for AXIS’s privacy protocols.
When his mouth captures mine with claiming possession, I reflect that OOPS really does provide the most comprehensive benefits package in the galaxy.
Starting with enhanced stress relief protocols and unlimited personal time with the galaxy’s most precisely passionate courier.
“Welcome to OOPS, Partner Dominique,” Wi’kar murmurs against my lips with possessive satisfaction, and the title makes me smile with pure, uncomplicated joy.
Partner. Mate. Chosen family. Professional colleague. The words taste like freedom, like home, like everything I never knew I was missing until I found it in the arms of an uptight alien courier with a secret romantic streak.
As we disappear into hyperspace, heading toward our first official mission and whatever adventures the galaxy might offer two people who have already survived princes, bounty hunters, and diplomatic immunity violations, I finally understand what Mother meant when she said OOPS delivers everything exactly where it belongs.
Sometimes the package you’re meant to deliver is yourself.
And sometimes, if you’re very lucky, the destination turns out to be exactly where you were always supposed to be, with exactly the right person to share the journey.
Package delivered. Mission accomplished. New adventure beginning.
Perfect parameters, indeed.