Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Corinne stood staring after Selik as he disappeared into the cockpit.
Safe. We’re safe. He said we’re safe.
She wanted to believe him, had wanted to believe him since the first moment she’d met his eyes up on the ridge.
An odd sense of rightness, of connection, had snapped into place, even though it made no sense.
He’s an alien, she reminded herself. A huge, reptilian alien who could take the child in her arms away from her.
Who might have more right to Mikoz than she did.
No, she thought fiercely. She’d loved Mikoz from the moment the Vedeckians had shoved a collapsing Cire female and a wailing infant into the cell with them and ordered her to care for him.
Amalia had already been almost too weak to speak, but she’d managed to walk her through preparing the formula.
They’d had to feed him together at first, until he learned her scent, until he looked up at her with those big dark eyes and cooed, wrapping his tail around her wrist as he nursed.
Amalia had managed to smile, despite the tears in her eyes, but it was as if the knowledge that Corinne would care for Mikoz had released her. She’d died less than twenty-four hours later, the Vedeckians removing her body with a casual contempt that had chilled Corinne’s blood.
“I’ll protect you,” she whispered to the sleeping infant. “No matter what.”
The engines hummed to life with a vibration she felt through the deck plating.
Her arms tightened around Mikoz, but he didn’t wake as the shuttle lifted smoothly into the air.
Selik clearly knew what he was doing. She forced herself to move, her entire body screaming in protest, and cautiously approached the small door Selik had indicated.
The sanitary unit was clean and surprisingly spacious, much larger than the similar unit on the Vedeckian ship.
She stepped into the shower unit, still fully clothed and keeping Mikoz in his makeshift sling even under the warm spray.
He woke up, kicking his legs happily and enjoying the water against his textured skin.
Dirt and dried blood swirled down the drain, days of filth washing away.
She wished fear could wash away as easily.
The hot air dryer worked swiftly and efficiently. When it was done, her clothes were clean and dry, although still torn and stained. When she looked at herself in the mirror, she looked gaunt and haunted, ten years older than her thirty-eight years.
Anya was still asleep when she returned to the main cabin.
She found what appeared to be a thermal blanket and covered her with it, her heart aching.
Her stepdaughter looked so small and helpless, the fever flush replaced by an unhealthy pallor, but when she pressed the back of her hand to the girl’s forehead, she could still feel the heat radiating from her skin.
Please let them have medicine on the ship. Please.
Mikoz squirmed against her chest, making small hungry sounds as his patience finally faded.
She mixed warm water and a careful amount of the nutrient powder, sighing with relief when he suckled greedily.
Hopefully the Patrol ship would have more of that as well.
His small body relaxed as he fed, his tail patting her chest before settling into its usual place around her wrist. Not hers biologically, but hers in every way that mattered.
Her eyes drifted towards the closed door to the cockpit, half-expecting Selik to reappear.
Half-wanting him to join her. As illogical as it might be, there was something reassuring about that big, powerful body.
Mikoz finished nursing and started to doze off, and her eyes began to close as well.
She knew she needed to stay alert and be ready to protect the children, but exhaustion pulled at her like gravity, impossible to resist.
She jerked awake to find Selik standing in the doorway between the cockpit and the cabin. Had she dozed off? For how long?
“We will dock with the Relentless in approximately twenty minutes.” His voice was quiet, probably trying not to wake Anya. “Is there anything you require?”
Yes. A time machine. Her old life back. For none of this to have ever happened.
“I’m fine.”
“You are not fine, although I understand the sentiment.” He moved into the cabin, his massive body making the space feel smaller. “There is food in the galley synthesizer. You should eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“When did you last have a full meal?” he asked skeptically, and she tried to think.
The Vedeckians had fed them twice a day—basic monotonous food but edible. She hadn’t eaten since the crash.
“I don’t remember.”
“Then you will eat now.” It wasn’t a request.
She sighed and nodded. His expression didn’t change, but something in the set of his shoulders relaxed.
He disappeared into the galley, returning a few moments later with what looked like soup in a covered bowl, along with some sort of bread.
Her mouth watered, but she cast an uncertain glance at Anya.
“I believe sleep is more important right now,” he said softly, clearly reading her hesitation. “Now eat. Please.”
The “please” did it and she reached for the bowl. She took a small sip and sighed with pleasure. He watched her, an odd look on his face, then gave her an oddly formal bow before returning to the cockpit. The door slid shut behind him, giving her privacy.
The soup was some kind of broth, mild and warm, and the bread was dense and filling. She ate slowly, savoring each spoonful. Through the small viewport, stars wheeled past. Beautiful and cold and utterly indifferent to human suffering. Or Cire suffering. Or any kind of suffering at all.
Her husband David used to say the universe was neither cruel nor kind, just vast and uncaring. She’d argued with him, preferring to believe in some kind of cosmic justice. But then David had died and the Vedeckians had taken them. He was right. The universe didn’t care.
Which meant the only thing standing between her children and oblivion was her own determination to keep fighting. And possibly, a haunted Cire commander who looked at Mikoz like he was seeing a ghost and who looked at her as if she were precious.
A short time after she finished eating, the Relentless appeared through the viewport like a small moon. Huge and dark, bristling with weapons ports and sensor arrays, it was clearly a military vessel, and her hands went cold.
“It’s okay,” she murmured to Mikoz, more to comfort herself than him. “We’re okay.”
The shuttle slid into the docking bay like a key into a lock, and Selik emerged from the cockpit as the engines powered down. “We have arrived. The medic is waiting.”
Panic spiked through her, but she bit back her immediate protest. Anya was burning with fever and Mikoz needed to be checked. Medical attention was necessary, even if the thought of strange hands on her children made her want to scream.
“I stay with them at all times.”
“No one will separate you. You have my word.”
The hatch opened to a vast, empty hangar. A male with skin like burnished copper scales smiled warmly at her as he entered the ship, his eyes scanning her with professional efficiency.
“I am Bombaya. I am a medic, and I’m going to take care of you and your children.” Your children. The acceptance in his words reassured her and she managed a smile.
“I am Corinne and this is my son Mikoz. My daughter Anya is running a fever.”
He nodded and moved over to the bench, and Selik came to stand next to her as she watched anxiously. The doctor ran the scanner over the sleeping girl, his expression carefully neutral.
“The girl has a respiratory infection and moderate dehydration. Both are easily treatable.”
She breathed a sigh of relief and felt Selik’s tail tighten around her waist. She hadn’t even realized it was there. Before she could say something, Dr. Bombaya came to join them.
“May I examine the baby now? I promise I won’t take him from you.”
The promise was probably meant to be reassuring, but it highlighted exactly what she feared most. They could take him if they wanted to. She was one human woman on a ship full of trained soldiers. What could she possibly do to stop them?
Whatever it took, she thought fiercely.
But she nodded, keeping Mikoz cradled in her arms as the medic moved closer. The scanner hummed softly as it passed over his small body and numbers appeared on the datapad.
“He is slightly dehydrated, but otherwise healthy,” he reported, and Selik’s tail tightened again. “As for you…”
Bombaya turned the scanner towards her, and the humming took on a different pitch. “Exhaustion, borderline malnutrition, and some minor contusions. When did you last eat?”
“Just now. On the shuttle.”
“Right. All three of you are coming to the med bay. We’ll get you fed, hydrated, and properly treated.” Bombaya’s voice held the kind of authority that didn’t allow for argument. A commander in his own right, just with a different battlefield.
She nodded, swaying slightly, and Selik immediately steadied her. She looked up at him and managed a shaky smile.
“Thank you.” The words felt inadequate. “For helping us.”
“It is my duty.”
“No.” She looked up at him, seeing the sorrow lurking behind those black eyes. “It’s more than duty. I don’t know why, but you actually care. Thank you for that.”
He didn’t respond. Just held her gaze for a moment before nodding once, sharp and controlled, then left her side long enough to carefully transfer Anya to a floating hover-stretcher that Bombaya brought onto the shuttle.
As he returned to her side, he stopped and pulled a long cloak out of a locker, then wrapped it around her shoulders.
“Cover the child,” he said quietly. “It might be best to avoid questions, for now.”
Questions? What questions? Another wave of panic threatened to surface, but she managed to push it back down as she carefully arranged the cloak to conceal Mikoz.
Then Selik’s tail slid into the now familiar position around her waist before they followed the stretcher through a confusing maze of sterile, functional corridors.
They passed very few other people, all of them alien, but none of them Cire. She felt the discreet glances in their direction, but she ignored them. Their presence had to be raising questions, but as long as they didn’t try to take the children away from her, she didn’t care.
The medical bay was larger than she’d expected with clean white walls and a lot of equipment she didn’t recognize.
Selik transferred Anya onto a bed with another larger scanner that ran back and forth over her body.
Then a clear dome arched up to cover the bed and the sleeping girl, and she immediately protested.
“What are you doing? Why are you confining her?”
“She is not being confined,” Bombaya said calmly as a faint pink mist began to fill the dome. “But she needs to absorb the medicine into her lungs to clear the respiratory infection.”
“All right,” she said reluctantly.
“You’re next.” Bombaya indicated the next bed. “Please take a seat. It would be easier without the child,” he added quietly.
Her arms tightened instinctively, and Mikoz gave a sleepy murmur.
“I can hold him,” Selik offered, and she looked up to find him watching her, his eyes understanding. “I will remain right beside you the entire time.”
Neither he nor the medic made any attempt to take the baby and after a long moment, she gave a reluctant nod.
“All right.”
He reached down and very carefully took the sleeping child, but as he did, his fingers brushed her exposed skin beneath one of the holes in her sweater.
A completely unexpected spark of electricity raced through her from that brief contact.
He froze for a second, just long enough for her to suspect that he’d felt it too, then lifted Mikoz into his arms.
The baby’s eyes blinked open and she held her breath, expecting an outraged protest, but Mikoz only studied Selim’s face a moment before drifting back to sleep, his tail curling around Selik’s wrist. Her heart ached but she refused to give into tears.
He was still her son and she wasn’t going to let anyone take him away from her, not even the huge alien warrior looking at him as if he were a miracle.