Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Selik pulled up the navigation display and studied the route he’d plotted for the third time in as many hours. The direct path to Tillich Two would take four days at maximum speed, but direct paths left trails. Predictable trails.
He deleted the route and started again.
First jump point: Theta Corridor, a busy commercial route with enough traffic to mask one small flyer. Second jump: the Veresh Belt, where asteroid mining operations created sensor interference. Third: a loop back through the Kessian Expanse before the final approach to Tillich Two.
Six days instead of four. Two additional jump gates meant two additional chances for someone to spot them, but it also meant anyone tracking them would lose the trail in the confusion of intersecting trade routes and mining traffic.
If there is anyone tracking us.
The thought gnawed at him. Tarak would do his best to maintain the illusion that Selik remained aboard the Patrol ship, but illusions only held for so long.
Eventually, someone would demand a face-to-face meeting or question why Commander dar’Tacharan hadn’t filed his usual reports. Eventually, the truth would emerge.
The real question was whether the leak had already reached the Council. Whether they knew about Mikoz and were already dispatching ships to intercept.
Behind him, Corinne hummed softly as she settled Mikoz down for sleep. The sound eased some of the tension coiled in his chest. His mate. His son. His daughter, because Anya had become that as well. They were safe for now, and he would do whatever necessary to keep them that way.
“You’re worrying again.” Corinne’s hands settled on his shoulders, her fingers finding the knots of tension with unerring accuracy.
“I am planning. There is a difference.”
“Mmm.” She worked at a particularly tight spot and he couldn’t suppress a low rumble of pleasure. “You’ve checked that route seventeen times. At some point, planning becomes worrying.”
“Seventeen?”
“I’ve been counting.” Her hands moved to his neck, applying steady pressure that made his eyes want to close. “Talk to me. What’s bothering you?”
Everything. Nothing. The weight of responsibility and the fear of failure and the persistent voice in his head that insisted he didn’t deserve this happiness.
“The Council has resources I cannot match,” he said finally. “If they decide to pursue us, they will find us eventually.”
“But not immediately. And not easily, if you keep plotting these elaborate routes.” She leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “We’ll be careful. We’ll stay alert. And if they do find us, we’ll deal with it together.”
Her confidence steadied him. She’d survived abduction and captivity with her spirit intact, had protected both Anya and Mikoz through circumstances that would have broken most people. If she believed they could build a life on Tillich Two, then perhaps they could.
“You are right.” He caught one of her hands and brought it to his lips. “I will stop checking the route compulsively.”
“At least until I fall asleep?”
“At least until then.”
She laughed and moved to her seat, curling up with a book she’d borrowed from the ship’s small library.
He forced himself to look away from the navigation display and focus instead on the sensor readings.
No ships within range. No unusual energy signatures.
Just empty space and distant stars and the steady hum of the flyer’s engines.
Mikoz woke an hour later with his usual demands for attention. Selik watched as Corinne lifted him from the improvised nest of blankets, checking his diaper and offering him a bottle. The infant latched on eagerly, his black eyes tracking movement around the small cabin.
“He’s definitely more alert,” Anya observed from her seat. “Yesterday he watched me for like ten minutes while I was reading. Just stared at me like he was trying to figure out what the book said.”
“Cire children develop quickly.” He remembered his daughter at that age, how she’d gone from helpless infant to walking in what seemed like mere weeks.
The memory no longer brought crippling pain—Corinne and the children had given him permission to remember without drowning in grief.
“Look at how quickly he started walking.”
Corinne smiled and shook her head. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing. We’ll have to childproof once we reach Tillich Two. He’s going to be into everything.”
“I will construct appropriate barriers. And perhaps some toys that encourage his development. Cire children benefit from puzzles and strategy games.”
“He’s ten months old.”
“Which means he is ready to begin learning.” At her amused expression, he added, “Simple puzzles only. Age-appropriate.”
“Uh huh. And I suppose you’ll be teaching him advanced mathematics by his first birthday?”
“If he shows aptitude, why not?”
She shook her head with fond exasperation. “You’re going to be that parent, aren’t you? The one who has their kid reading at two and doing calculus at five.”
“I was reading at two.”
“Of course you were.” She stood and passed Mikoz to him. “Here. Bond with your genius child while I make something resembling dinner from our limited supplies.”
He settled the infant against his chest, feeling the now-familiar weight of him. Mikoz chirped and grabbed for his face.
“Gentle,” he murmured, the same word Corinne used. “We have discussed this.”
Another chirp, softer this time.
Anya appeared beside them. “Can I hold him?”
“Of course.”
“Hey, little guy.” Anya bounced him gently. “Guess what? Selik says you’ll be running everywhere and getting into trouble soon and we’ll all have to chase after you.”
Mikoz grabbed her hair.
“No, no, no. Not the hair.” She carefully extracted his hand. “We’ve been over this. Hair is attached to heads and pulling it hurts.”
“He does not understand yet,” he said. “At this age, grabbing is instinctive. He will learn gentleness as he matures.”
“How long does that take? Because I’d like my hair to survive until then.”
“A few months perhaps.”
“Great. I’ll just be bald by then.” But she was smiling as she said it, her affection for the infant clear despite her grumbling.
He returned to the cockpit and pulled up the navigation display one more time—he couldn’t help himself.
The route still looked solid. No obvious weaknesses, no points where they’d be forced into predictable patterns.
They’d reach the first jump gate in six hours, transit through during a busy period when dozens of ships would be moving through simultaneously, and emerge in a heavily trafficked corridor where one small flyer would be invisible among the commercial vessels.
After that, it was just a matter of staying alert and maintaining their cover until they reached Tillich Two.
“Dinner’s ready,” Corinne called. “Such as it is.”
He joined them in the small common area, where she’d laid out their meal on a storage crate serving as a makeshift table. The ration packs were standard military fare—nutritionally complete and almost completely tasteless—but she’d done something to make them more palatable.
“What did you add?” He sniffed cautiously at his portion.
“Spices from the emergency supplies. And I found some dried vegetables that hadn’t completely turned to dust.” She sat cross-legged on the floor, balancing her plate on her knees. “It’s not exactly gourmet, but it’s better than eating compressed protein bars for six days.”
He took a bite and had to agree. The subtle flavors made the bland rations almost enjoyable. “This is good.”
“Don’t sound so surprised. I told you I could cook.”
Anya poked at her food suspiciously. “What’s in this exactly?”
“Protein, carbohydrates, essential vitamins and minerals, and enough preservatives to survive a nuclear winter.” Corinne took a bite of her own meal. “Also, some paprika and dehydrated onions. Eat it or go hungry, kiddo.”
“I wasn’t complaining. Just curious.” Anya ate with the enthusiasm of a teenager who could apparently consume her weight in food daily and still claim starvation.
They fell into easy conversation, discussing the plan for Tillich Two.
Corinne planned to explore the local markets to find fresh food and proper clothing.
Anya asked about schools and whether there would be other children her age.
He explained what he knew of the colony’s layout, the mixed population of Tillichi and various alien species, and the fact that the economy was based primarily on fishing and trade.
“Fishing?” Corinne looked intrigued. “I didn’t know you had experience with that.”
“My grandfather was a fisherman on Ciresia, before the Red Death.” He remembered standing on the dock beside the old male when he was still very young, learning to cast nets and read the water. “He taught me the basics, though I never pursued it professionally.”
“Is that what you’ll do? On Tillich Two?”
He hadn’t considered it until this moment, but the idea felt right. A simple life away from military structure and political intrigue. Honest work that provided for his family without drawing unwanted attention.
“Perhaps. If there is demand for another fishing operation.”
“I think it’s perfect.” She reached across the makeshift table to squeeze his hand. “Professor turned teacher, warrior turned fisherman, traumatized survivors turned family. We’ll fit right in.”
Anya snorted. “Yeah, we’re super normal. Nothing weird about us at all.”
After the meal, he cleared the table while Corinne settled Mikoz down for the night. The infant fought sleep as usual, his chirps escalating to full cries before finally subsiding into exhausted whimpers.
“He’s getting stubborn about bedtime,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “Any suggestions?”
“Consistency and patience. Eventually he will learn that bedtime is not negotiable.” He remembered using the same approach with his daughter, though the memories were bittersweet. “And perhaps some physical activity during the day to tire him out.”