Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
The child weighed nothing.
Selik stood perfectly still as the tiny Cire infant settled against his chest, tail wrapped around his wrist in absolute trust. Mikoz’s warmth seeped through the fabric of his uniform, and for one disorienting moment, he was back on Ciresia, holding Lira as she slept, her small fingers curled around his thumb.
Stop.
He forced the memory away, burying it under layers of discipline and training. The past was gone. This child was not his daughter. The female watching him so anxiously was not his mate. He had a duty to protect them, nothing more.
Except his tail had wrapped itself around Corinne’s waist without conscious thought, and when his fingers had brushed her skin, something had ignited in his blood that he hadn’t felt in twenty years.
“Commander?” Bombaya’s voice pulled him back to the present. “Are you all right?”
“I am fine.”
The medic’s expression suggested he didn’t believe that, but he wisely turned his attention to Corinne instead.
She sat on the medical bed, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her entire body radiating tension.
Even exhausted and malnourished, she held herself with a quiet dignity that commanded respect.
Bombaya ran the scanner over her again, more thoroughly this time, and his frown deepened.
“When did you last sleep properly?”
“I don’t know.”
“Right. I’m prescribing a nutrient supplement and at least twelve hours of rest. I can prepare a bed—”
“She will stay in my quarters.”
The offer emerged before he had a chance to consider it, but it immediately felt right despite Bombaya’s raised eyebrow.
“I can’t take your quarters,” she protested.
“You can and you will. They are the most secure location on this vessel, and they have adequate space for you and the children.”
“But where will you sleep?”
“There are crew quarters available.” Not that he had an intention of using them. If he did require sleep, the couch in his ready room was an adequate, if uncomfortable, solution.
She looked like she wanted to argue, but exhaustion won out. Her shoulders sagged and she nodded.
“Thank you.”
Bombaya finished his examination and moved to check on Anya. The pink mist had cleared from the dome, and her breathing already sounded easier. The medic smiled as he studied the readouts.
“The infection is responding well to treatment. She should wake within the hour, and I expect a full recovery within three days.”
Relief transformed Corinne’s face. He’d found her attractive before, despite the fear and exhaustion, but happiness made her so beautiful that his breath caught. Then she glanced at Mikoz, still sleeping peacefully in his arms, and the fear returned.
“Can I have him back now?”
He should hand the child over immediately. Every second he held this tiny life felt like tempting fate, inviting another loss he couldn’t survive. But Mikoz was warm and solid and real, and some broken part of him didn’t want to let go.
Still, he carefully transferred the infant back to her, making sure to avoid touching her skin this time. She settled him against her chest, and the tension in her shoulders eased slightly.
“I’ll arrange for the quarters,” he said, stepping back to put distance between them. “Bombaya will transport you when he feels it’s safe.”
“Can’t we go now? This reminds me too much of the Vedeckian ship.”
Bombaya opened his mouth to protest, but he cut him off with a gesture.
“Very well. But you will eat first, and you will accept assistance if needed.”
“I can walk on my own.”
Stubborn. He recognized the trait because he shared it. “I did not suggest otherwise. But if you collapse in my corridors, I will carry you, and you will find that deeply undignified.”
Her mouth twitched, almost a smile. “Fine. I’ll eat.”
Bombaya provided her with a liquid nutritional supplement, while he pretended to review something on his comm unit.
In reality, he was trying to determine what to do next.
The child was Cire which meant that the Cire Council would need to be notified.
They would want the infant brought to Ciresia, raised among his own people, taught their ways and traditions.
But Corinne had claimed him as hers. And she clearly loved him and had protected him at the cost of her own health and safety. What right did he have to tear them apart?
What right did I have to let Lira die? He pushed the thought away viciously.
Bombaya cleared Anya for transport, and they made their way through the corridors toward his quarters.
Corinne walked beside him, the cloak once more covering the sleeping infant, and the hover-stretcher with Anya floating between them.
His crew was professional enough to keep their expressions neutral, but he could see the questions in their eyes.
Taking them to his quarters would generate rumors, but he had more important concerns.
His quarters were in the command section, larger and more comfortable than standard crew accommodations. The main room held a desk, a sitting area, and access to a small galley. The sleeping chamber beyond had a bed large enough for his body and a private sanitary unit.
She paused in the doorway and bit her lip.
“You really don’t need to do this.”
“Yes I do.”
She looked like she wanted to protest again, but Bombaya was already transferring Anya from the stretcher to the bed. The girl stirred but didn’t wake, her small hand curling against the pillow.
“I’ll check on them in a few hours,” Bombaya said quietly, gathering his equipment. “Make sure she eats more and rests.”
“I will.”
The medic left, and suddenly he found himself alone with her and the children in his personal space. The intimacy of it struck him unexpectedly. No one had been in these quarters before except him. Now the space felt different, life existing where only ghosts had lingered before.
She crossed over to the bed and carefully laid Mikoz down beside Anya, covering them with a blanket before returning to the outer room and looking up at him.
“I need to know what happens next.”
Direct. He appreciated that. “You will rest and recover. The children will receive proper medical care. Beyond that…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “Complications exist.”
“What kind of complications?”
“You know that Mikoz is Cire, as am I.”
“Yes.”
He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “There are very few Cire. The Cire Council will need to be informed.”
“I don’t care about your Council. I promised his mother I would protect him.”
“I understand your attachment, but—”
“Do you?” She started pacing, anger flashing in her hazel eyes. “Do you understand what it’s like to watch a dying woman beg you to save her child? To hold an infant while the Vedeckians discuss his value as if he were a piece of meat?”
His value? His tail lashed angrily.
“Who was the buyer?”
She blinked, clearly not expecting the question. “I don’t know. I only heard the Vedeckians talking about it. They said someone was willing to pay a premium price for a pure-blooded Cire child.”
Rage flooded through him, cold and controlled. Someone wanted to buy Mikoz. If he discovered who, they would regret their existence, but in the meantime…
“You will not be separated from the child,” he said, making the decision at that moment. “Not until we can be certain of his safety.”
“Do you mean that?”
“I do not say things I do not mean.”
She studied his face, searching for something. Whatever she found must have satisfied her because she nodded slowly.
“All right. I believe you.”
The trust in those words affected him more than it should. His tail reached for her, but he forced it back to his side as he turned towards the door.
“I will return to check on you later.”
“Where are you going?” she asked quickly, biting her lip, and he almost changed his mind.
“I have duties to attend to,” he said stiffly instead.
“Of course.” She looked through the open door at the sleeping children, then took a deep breath and smiled up at him. “Thank you, Selik. For everything.”
He left before he could do something foolish, like promise her things he had no right to promise. The door sealed behind him, and he stood in the corridor, trying to regain his equilibrium and fighting the urge to return.
His comm unit chimed. Tarak, his second-in-command.
“Commander, I need a word.”
“My office. Five minutes.”
He made his way through the ship, automatically acknowledging salutes while his mind raced. Every instinct he possessed screamed at him to protect Corinne and the children. To keep them close and safe. To never let them out of his sight.
Which was completely irrational and entirely inappropriate. He had a ship to command. He could not afford emotional entanglements.
His ready room was a stark space, functional and impersonal, exactly like his life had become. Tarak was already waiting for him. The older Cire’s expression was carefully neutral, which meant he had opinions he was working hard not to voice.
“Report.”
“The Vedeckian vessel has been thoroughly searched. There are no other captives and the crew members are all deceased. It looks like a reactor malfunction caused the battle damage we observed. They were dead before we boarded.” Tarak paused.
“We did recover their data banks. Their records show the presence of a Cire female and a Cire infant, even though we know that is impossible.”
He hesitated, but he’d known Tarak most of his life and he trusted him implicitly.
“The female is dead, but the infant is on board this ship.”
Tarak stiffened. “How did this happen?”
“I do not know. The Cire female apparently died. The female who returned to the ship with me has adopted the infant.”
“But she is not Cire.”
“No.”
Tarak sighed and, without waiting to be invited, sat down. The breach of protocol from the normally punctilious officer revealed how much he’d been affected by the news.
“The Communications logs show they were enroute to Sector Nine to meet a buyer specifically for the Cire infant. The females were apparently an afterthought for extra profit. They are called humans and they are from a pre-spaceflight world.” Tarak’s tail lashed again, disgust radiating from every line of his body.
“The infant was the primary merchandise. According to their records he has a pure bloodline, which made him worth a fortune to his buyer.”
“But there was no record of the buyer’s identity?”
“No.” Tarak gave him a troubled glance. “The Council will want to know.”
“I am aware.”
“But you have not reported it yet.” It wasn’t quite an accusation, but close. “The Council will want the infant brought to Ciresia.”
“Where he will be raised by strangers while the female who saved his life is sent away.” He heard the edge in his own voice and fought for control. “That is not acceptable.”
“You are questioning Council decisions?”
“I have been questioning them for years,” he said honestly. “That was one of the reasons I left Ciresia. And there is something else. Who do you think would be most willing to pay for a pure blooded Cire infant?”
Tarak’s eyes widened. “Are you suggesting…”
“That the Cire Council would stop at nothing to keep the bloodline pure? Perhaps,” he said grimly. “And perhaps someone within the Council was involved in this entire enterprise.”
Tarak’s jaw tightened. “That’s a very serious accusation, Commander.”
“It is. And I have no proof other than my own instincts, which is why I have not reported the child’s existence to anyone beyond this ship. And the only ones onboard who are aware of it are you and Bombaya.”
Tarak’s gaze narrowed. “What about the female who has been protecting the child?”
“I have no intention of letting him be torn from her care.”
“She is not Cire. She cannot understand what it is to be one of us. The Council will argue that the infant’s heritage is more important than the emotional needs of an alien female.”
“I disagree.”
Tarak studied him with unsettling perception. “Commander, may I speak freely?”
“When have you not?”
“You are acting as if you are attached to the female and the child.”
The accusation hung in the air between them. He wanted to deny it, but Tarak had served with him for too many years. They’d fought together, bled together, and trusted each other with their lives. Lying would be pointless.
“I feel a… pull towards them, but my personal feelings are irrelevant. My duty is to protect civilians under my protection. All of them.”
“Is it?” Tarak leaned forward. “You cannot save everyone, Commander.”
“I can save these three.” The words came out as a vow, and Tarak sighed.
“I will support whatever decision you make. You know that. But be honest with yourself about why you’re making it.”
“I am always honest with myself.”
Tarak’s expression suggested he doubted that, but he merely stood and saluted. “I’ll have additional security posted near your quarters. Discreetly.”
“Thank you.”
His second left, and he sat alone with his thoughts. Was he protecting Corinne and the children out of duty? Or was he trying to fill a void that should remain empty? Was he being rational and strategic, or was he letting emotion cloud his judgment?
He didn’t know. For the first time in twenty years, he genuinely didn’t know.