Epilogue #2
“They’ve recovered more Precursor artifacts from the frontier. He believes Ari’s reaction to them might provide useful data.”
“No.”
The word came out sharper than Doren intended, drawing a raised eyebrow from Athtar. But he didn’t take it back.
“We have an agreement,” he continued, forcing his voice to steadiness. “Ari interacts with artifacts voluntarily, under supervision, and we stop immediately if she shows distress. She’s two years old. She can’t consent to being a test subject.”
“I’m not arguing.” Emma’s hand found his under the table—a gesture that had become automatic between them. “I just wanted you to know what he’s asking.”
“And I want him to know that the answer is no. Not until she’s old enough to understand what’s happening and make her own choice.”
“That could be years.”
“Then it’ll be years.” Doren’s jaw tightened. “The Empire got what they wanted—access to the information we’ve gathered, a pathway towards finding the Vault. They don’t get to treat our daughter like a laboratory specimen.”
Our daughter. He’d said it without thinking, and the words hung in the air between them. Emma’s eyes glistened, and something passed between them—an acknowledgment of how far they’d come, of the family they’d built from chaos and desperation.
Faith cleared her throat. “Perhaps we should give you two some time to discuss this privately. It’s getting late, and the children will be awake at dawn regardless of how late the adults stayed up.”
“Subtle,” Athtar rumbled.
“I wasn’t trying to be subtle. I was trying to give them an exit.” Faith rose, gathering wine glasses with practiced efficiency. “Emma, walk with me to the kitchen?”
It wasn’t really a question. Emma squeezed Doren’s hand once before rising to follow Faith inside, and Doren watched her go with a familiar mixture of warmth and concern.
She was still keeping something from him. He could feel it in the careful way she chose her words, the moments when her attention seemed to turn inward. Whatever it was, it had been building for weeks—maybe longer.
“You’ve noticed it too,” Athtar said quietly.
“Noticed what?”
“Don’t play dumb. It doesn’t suit you.” The big Elginar leaned back in his chair, his pale eyes knowing. “She’s been different lately. Faith mentioned it to me.”
“Different how?”
“I think that’s something you need to ask her yourself.” Athtar’s voice was gentle despite its depth. “But if I had to guess... I’d say she’s working up to telling you something important.”
“Something bad?”
“Something important. Those aren’t always the same thing.” Athtar smiled slightly. “When Faith told me she was carrying our first child, she spent three days finding reasons to avoid the conversation. I thought she was going to leave me. Turns out she was terrified of how I’d react.”
Doren’s brain stumbled over the words, tried to rearrange them into something that made sense.
Carrying.
Child.
How I’d react.
“You think—”
“I think you should talk to your mate.” Athtar rose, his massive frame blocking the moonlight for a moment. “And I think you should remember that the universe doesn’t give us treasures like this very often. Don’t be too much of an idiot to accept the gift.”
The walk back to their small house felt longer than usual.
Emma was quiet beside him, her hand in his, her attention seemingly fixed on the path ahead. The night air carried the salt-sweet scent of Sherae’s ocean, and somewhere in the darkness, a nocturnal creature called out—a long, musical note that faded into silence.
“Beautiful night,” Emma said.
“Mmm.”
“The moons are almost full. Faith says there’s a festival coming up. Something about blessing the fishing boats.”
“Emma.”
She stopped walking. In the moonlight, her face was half-illuminated, half-shadowed, and her expression was somewhere between hope and terror.
“I know you’ve been wanting to ask,” she said quietly. “I’ve been... I should have told you before. I just didn’t know how.”
“Told me what?”
“I saw Faith’s physician while we were on the last run. Before Pasfal Station.” Emma’s voice was steady, but her hand trembled slightly in his. “I wanted to know if it was possible. If a human and a Tajiri could... if we were compatible.”
Doren’s heart was pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears. “Compatible.”
“For children.” Emma’s eyes met his, and he saw it all—the hope, the fear, the desperate love that matched his own.
“I want a baby, Doren. Our baby. Not because Ari isn’t enough—she’s everything—but because I want...
I want more. I want a family with you. A real family.
And I know that means staying in one place for a while, and I know it’s not what you planned—”
He kissed her.
It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t planned. It was raw need and overwhelming joy and something he couldn’t name, something that felt like every lonely year of his life suddenly making sense because they’d led him here.
“You impossible woman,” he breathed against her lips. “You absolute, impossible—do you have any idea—”
“Is that a yes?”
“It’s a yes, Emma. Stars above, it’s been yes since the moment I met you.” He pulled back enough to see her face, to watch the tears spill over her cheeks and catch the moonlight. “You want a baby? We’ll have a baby. You want ten babies? We’ll have ten babies.”
“Let’s start with one.”
“One. One is good. One is—” He kissed her again, softer this time, tasting salt and joy. “When? How long have you known we could—”
“The physician confirmed it three weeks ago. We’re compatible.
There might need to be some medical assistance, but it’s possible.
” Emma’s hands came up to frame his face, her touch gentle and sure.
“I’ve been trying to find the right time to tell you.
I was afraid you’d think it was too fast, or too risky, or—”
“I’ve spent my entire life taking risks.” Doren covered her hands with his own. “This is the first one that’s ever felt like a sure thing.”
Their house was small—three rooms that had started as a guest cottage and become something more.
Emma had added touches over the past months: woven blankets in warm colors, paintings from local artists, a shelf of the books she’d accumulated during their travels.
It wasn’t the Vagabond, but it had the same feeling of home.
No, Doren corrected himself as he pulled Emma through the door. It has a better feeling. Because she’s here.
They checked on Ari first—habit ingrained by months of parenthood—and found her sleeping peacefully in her small bed, silver skin luminous in the moonlight that filtered through the window.
Emma lingered for a moment, brushing a gentle hand over the toddler’s hair, and Doren felt his chest ache with the sweetness of it.
Our daughter. And soon, maybe...
He didn’t let himself finish the thought. Didn’t dare, not yet. But the hope of it was a warm flame in his chest, burning away the last traces of the man he’d been.
“Come to bed,” Emma whispered, taking his hand.
He followed her willingly.
Their bedroom was smaller than the captain’s quarters on the Vagabond, but the bed was larger—a concession to Doren’s height and their mutual appreciation for space to move. Emma lit a small lamp by the bedside, filling the room with a soft golden glow, and then turned to face him.
“I love you,” she said simply.
“I know.” He closed the distance between them, hands settling on her waist with a familiarity that still thrilled him. “I love you too. Have I mentioned that recently?”
“Not in the last hour.”