Epilogue #2
And now? Now I have a mental list of at least seven places I want to visit next. Now I get excited when Khatak mentions a new diplomatic assignment. Now I drag him to markets and gardens and festivals, filling our tiny shuttle with souvenirs and memories and proof that I’m actually living again.
“You did this,” I say quietly.
“No.” His voice is firm. “You did this. I just gave you a reason to try.”
I twist in his arms to kiss him, but he’s already pulling away with an apologetic grimace.
“I need to supervise the landing sequence,” he says. “We’re approaching the docking zone. And you need to shower.”
I ignore his barb. I really do.
“Can’t you just leave it on autopilot?” I call after him as he heads toward the cockpit. “I’ve seen you dock this thing. The autopilot is probably better at it.”
He waves me off without turning around, and I hear his low chuckle echo down the narrow corridor.
I have the world’s quickest shower. Firstly, because water is a precious luxury in space, and our bathing chambers still use it like an antiquated human bathroom. And secondly, I’m too excited to lounge beneath hot water and relax.
Exiting the bathing chambers, I move to check on our luggage.
Well, my luggage. Khatak travels light—a single bag of clothes and his diplomatic credentials all crammed into one ready-to-explode suitcase.
I, on the other hand, have somehow accumulated four bags of personal items and an entire cargo container of souvenirs.
The carved crystal figurine from Nakar Prime sits carefully wrapped on the shelf above our bunk.
That’s for Elana—it’s a snake coiled around a rose, and the craftsmanship is incredible.
For Laura, I found a set of exotic spices from the Vornath markets that the vendor swore would “revolutionize cuisine.” For Charlotte, a set of star charts that are apparently historical artifacts.
For Zoe, a bolt of shimmering fabric that changes color in different lights.
And of course, Maya gets a book. I have no idea if it’s a mystery or crime story…
but it’s got actual ink on actual paper—something far harder to find in a digital society than I expected.
“Brace for docking,” Khatak’s voice crackles over the intercom.
I grip the shelf with both hands.
The shuttle touches down with what I’m generously calling a “controlled descent” but what actually feels more like controlled falling. The entire vessel shudders, and the shelves rattle ominously. My carved figurines dance dangerously close to the edge.
“Khatak!” I shout. “You said you were supervising!”
“I was!”
“Then who was flying? Your tail?”
The shuttle settles with one final thud, and miraculously, nothing falls. I release the breath I was holding and carefully check each item. All intact.
I’m definitely going to need more shelves. Maybe another in the lounge cabin. Or the storage bay. Or possibly I need to accept that I have a problem and stop buying souvenirs.
But where’s the fun in that?
The old Selene stopped collecting things after the abduction. Every souvenir from my old travels—coffee mugs from Seattle, postcards from Rome, that tacky keychain from Tokyo—all of it reminded me of a life I’d lost. Of a person who felt safe enough to explore.
All of it was lost when I was taken from my home, and I thought I’d never get it back.
But this? This is different. These souvenirs aren’t from a past I’m trying to forget. They’re proof of a future I’m actively building. Every carved figure, every piece of fabric, every jar of alien spice is a memory I chose to make. A place I chose to explore.
With someone I chose to love.
“Ramp is deploying,” Khatak announces, appearing in the doorway. “Ready?”
I grab the bag of gifts and shoot him a grin. “Let’s go see our friends.”
The moment the ramp touches down, I’m already moving. The familiar lobby of the Alien Hotel spreads out before us, and I barely have time to register the absolutely excessive Christmas decorations—seriously, everyone’s gone all out—before I spot them.
My friends all stand near the entrance, waiting for me.
The moment they see us, their faces light up. I’m running before I consciously decide to move, and then we’re crashing into each other in a group hug that nearly knocks us all over.
“You’re back!” Elana squeals. “Finally! Do you know how boring it’s been without you?”
“I’ve been gone three months!”
“Exactly. Boring.”
We’re a tangle of hugs and excited chatter, everyone talking over each other.
“Is that a new shirt?”
“You got a tan! How does that even work in space?”
“Did you bring us anything?”
“Obviously she brought us things, look at that bag—”
“I want to hear everything—”
A familiar throat-clearing cuts through the noise.
Prince Rist stands a few feet away, his black horns gleaming in the lobby lights, a slight smile playing at his lips. Sutek looms behind him, as always, though even the intimidating assassin looks vaguely amused by our reunion.
“Selene. Khatak.” Rist’s voice carries that distinctive British accent that still catches me off guard sometimes. He turns to face me. “Welcome back. I trust your travels were successful?”
I’m not shy when I grin up at him. He wants to know that I am truly okay after jumping on board a shuttle that was mid-takeoff, forcing me into a holiday that was completely unplanned. Like a totally normal person would do.
“Very,” Khatak says, moving to stand beside me. His tail finds my leg again, a casual touch that grounds me.
“It was amazing,” I tell him. “I’ve seen so much. Done so much. You know, for a holiday destination, some of you should really schedule some time off.”
“Excellent.” Rist’s gaze shifts between us, assessing. “So. Are you staying longer this time? Perhaps... permanently?”
I feel more than see Khatak shake his head.
“We’ve decided to continue traveling,” he says. “It suits our lifestyle better. And there are benefits beyond diplomacy.”
“Such as?” Rist’s tone is carefully neutral, but I can see the curiosity in his expression.
“It gives us a chance to search for people,” I say. “Humans who’ve been trafficked. Displaced Volscians who need connections to safe havens. People who fall through the cracks because they don’t know help exists.”
Khatak’s hand finds mine. “We connect them to places like this. Your refugee network. The Federation assistance programs.”
“We’re building something like an underground railroad, just... in space. My organization skills finally come in handy,” I add, glancing at my friends, grateful to see the approval shining in their eyes. “Plus, it helps that I can understand the survivors in ways that no one else can.”
“And you’re good at it,” Khatak comments, leaning down to kiss my temple with reverence.
I squeeze his hand, warmth blooming in my chest. For the first time since my abduction, I have purpose beyond organizing events and maintaining control. I’m helping people who’ve been through what I’ve been through. I’m making a difference.
I’m not just surviving anymore.
I’m living.
Rist studies us for a long moment, then nods slowly. “The offer remains open. Should you change your minds.”
“We know,” I say. “And we’re grateful. But this is what we need to do right now.”
Elana links her arm through mine. “Well, if you’re not staying permanently, then you’re staying as guests this time. No staff quarters for you.”
“Absolutely not,” Laura agrees. “You’re getting the full hotel experience.”
“With room service,” Zoe adds.
“And no event planning duties,” Charlotte says firmly.
Rist’s smile widens just slightly. He spreads his arms in that theatrical way of his, encompassing the decorated lobby, our little group, the whole impossible sanctuary he’s built.
“In that case,” he says, his voice warm with genuine affection, “welcome to the Alien Hotel.”
THE END
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