Chapter 16 #2
“Physical activity. In a flyer barely big enough to turn around in.”
“We will manage.”
And they did. Over the next few days, they established a routine that made the cramped quarters feel almost comfortable.
Mornings began with Corinne teaching Anya mathematics and literature while he monitored their route and checked for pursuing vessels.
Midday meant physical training—he taught Anya self-defense techniques adapted for the limited space while Corinne supervised Mikoz’s increasingly adventurous walks.
The infant had progressed from three steps to six, then eight. He pulled himself upright using anything available—cargo netting, seat legs, Selik’s tail when it was within reach—and toddled forward with single-minded determination.
“He’s going to hurt himself,” she fretted as Mikoz took a tumble for the third time in as many minutes.
“He is fine. Cire children are resilient.” He watched as the infant pushed himself back up, undeterred by the fall. “The bumps and bruises teach him his limitations.”
“Easy for you to say. Your skin is a lot thicker than his.”
“His will be the same, once he matures.” He caught Mikoz before the infant could topple into the cargo netting. “Though I concede that perhaps we should pad the sharper corners.”
Afternoons were Selik’s favorite time. While Mikoz napped and Anya curled in her seat with a book, he and Corinne had precious moments alone.
Sometimes they talked, sharing stories of their pasts and dreams for their future.
Sometimes they sat in comfortable silence, simply enjoying each other’s presence.
And sometimes, when the children were deeply asleep and the flyer’s autopilot was handling navigation, they came together with the desperate passion of new lovers who couldn’t keep their hands off each other.
The storage area was barely large enough for them both, but they made it work.
He learned the geography of her body—the sensitive spot behind her ear, the way she gasped when he kissed her throat, the soft sounds she made when he was inside her.
And she learned him just as thoroughly, discovering that the base of his tail was particularly sensitive, that he loved when she traced the patterns on his skin, and that whispering his name made him growl with possessive pleasure.
He’d press her against the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist as he drove into her, their coupling fast and fierce and utterly necessary.
Or she would ride him on the narrow bench seat, her head thrown back as she moved above him, her hands braced against the ceiling for balance.
The cramped quarters forced intimacy, leaving no space between them for anything but skin on skin, breath on breath.
Every joining felt like the first and the last simultaneously—a desperate claiming and a heartfelt surrender.
The knot formed without fail each time, locking them together for long minutes afterward.
He’d hold her then, stroking her hair as she drifted in the afterglow, memorizing the way she looked with her guard down and her heart open to him completely.
“My mate,” he’d whisper against her temple, and she’d answer, “Always,” her drowsy trust making his chest ache with fierce protectiveness.
“We’re going to scandalize Anya if we keep this up,” she said one afternoon, breathless and flushed in the aftermath of their coupling.
“She is thirteen and knows exactly what we are doing.” He nuzzled her neck, enjoying her scent. “She told me yesterday that we were ‘disgustingly cute together’ and asked if we could please keep the ‘gross stuff’ to when she was asleep.”
She laughed. “She said that?”
“I am afraid so.”
They lay together in the cramped space, her head on his chest and his tail wrapped around her waist. He could hear her heartbeat, steady and strong, and feel the rise and fall of her breathing as she relaxed against him.
Mine, his instincts insisted. Mate. Protect. Keep safe.
He would. No matter what the Council tried, no matter how many ships they sent, he would keep his family safe.
Evenings meant strategy games. He pulled out the compact travel set he’d owned for years—a Cire game called Tarska that involved capturing territory while protecting your home base. The pieces were small carved stone markers, each with different movement capabilities.
“I don’t understand,” Anya said after he’d explained the rules for the third time. “So the tall piece can move anywhere but can’t capture, and the flat piece can capture but only moves one space?”
“Correct.”
“That’s confusing.”
“It is strategic. Each piece has strengths and weaknesses. Victory comes from using them in coordination.” He moved one of his markers. “For example, my tall piece blocks your advance while my flat piece threatens your home base.”
Anya studied the board with fierce concentration. “But if I move here…” She shifted one of her pieces. “Then I threaten your flat piece and you have to defend instead of attacking.”
“Excellent.” Pride warmed his chest. She learned quickly, this human daughter of his. “Now I must choose between protecting my territory or pressing my advantage.”
They played for an hour. He offered guidance when she seemed stuck but let her make her own mistakes. She lost the first game decisively, barely lost the second, and fought him to a stalemate in the third.
“You’re good at this,” he told her as they packed away the pieces. “Better than some warriors I served with who had been playing for years.”
She glowed at the praise. “Really?”
“Really. You think several moves ahead and adapt when your opponent surprises you. Those are valuable skills both in games and in life.”
“Will you teach me more? Other games and stuff?”
“Of course. We have several days of travel remaining. Plenty of time for lessons.” He hesitated, then added, “Your father would be proud of you, you know. You have become strong and clever and brave.”
Her eyes went suspiciously bright. “You think so?”
“I know so. And I am honored to continue the work he began.”
She threw her arms around him in a sudden fierce hug. “Thank you for saving us. And for letting us be your family. I know we’re not related by blood or anything, but—”
“You are my daughter.” He held her carefully, mindful of her fragile human frame. “Biology is irrelevant. You are mine to protect and guide, and I will do so for as long as you need me.”
She sniffled against his chest. “Even when I’m being an annoying teenager?”
“Especially then.”
Corinne watched them from across the cabin, her expression soft with emotion. When Anya finally pulled back and retreated to her seat, still wiping her eyes, she crossed to him.
“You’re good with her.”
“She makes it easy.” He drew her close, needing the comfort of her presence. “I worried that I had forgotten how to be a parent. That the grief had damaged something essential.”
“You didn’t forget. You just needed someone to remind you.” She rose on her toes to kiss him. “We’re lucky to have you.”
“I am the fortunate one.” He rested his forehead against hers. “You have given me back my life.”
On the fifth day, Anya beat him at Tarska.
“I won!” She stared at the board in disbelief. “I actually won.”
“You did.” He studied her winning position with approval. She’d sacrificed three pieces to create an opening, then exploited it ruthlessly to capture his home base. “Excellently played.”
“But you’re like a master strategist. You commanded soldiers and fought in battles and stuff.”
“And you are thirteen with a natural gift for tactical thinking.” He began resetting the pieces. “One more game?”
They played again, and this time he didn’t hold back. She still won, though by a narrower margin.
“Okay, now I’m suspicious.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you letting me win?”
“No. You are simply that good.” He felt absurdly proud. “Though I reserve the right to study your strategy and adapt my approach.”
“Bring it on, old man. I can take you.”
Corinne snorted from across the cabin. “Did she just call you old?”
“I believe she did.” He fixed Anya with a mock-severe stare. “I will remember this insubordination.”
“You’re like fifty. That’s ancient.”
“Forty-eight.”
“Still ancient.” But she was grinning, clearly delighted with herself.
Mikoz chose that moment to demonstrate his new skill—walking across the entire width of the cabin without falling. Twelve whole steps before he plopped down with a triumphant chirp.
They all applauded, and the infant preened at the attention.
“Show-off,” Anya told him affectionately. “You’re going to be impossible once we reach Tillich Two, aren’t you? Getting into everything.”
Another chirp that sounded like agreement.
On the sixth day, they made their final approach to Tillich Two. The planet appeared on their sensors as a brilliant blue-green sphere streaked with white clouds. Two small moons orbited in close formation, their gravitational interaction creating spectacular tides on the surface.
“It’s beautiful,” Corinne breathed, staring at the display.
Scattered island continents were separated by shallow seas. The primary settlement hugged the coast of the largest landmass, a sprawling collection of buildings in a variety of architectural styles
The spaceport was busy but not crowded. A dozen ships occupied the landing pads, ranging from small personal flyers like theirs to mid-sized cargo haulers. Aliens of various species moved between the vessels, loading and unloading goods.
He set them down on an assigned pad and powered down the engines. For a moment, no one moved. They’d made it. Six days of travel, three jump gates, countless hours of worry, and they’d arrived safely.
“Well,” Corinne said finally. “Welcome home, I guess.”
Anya unbuckled from her seat. “Can we go outside? I want to see everything.”
“Soon.” He checked the sensor readings one more time, confirming that no patrol ships lurked in orbit, no one had flagged their arrival as suspicious. “First, we need to secure accommodations and register with the local authorities.”
“Using our fake identities?”
“Using our carefully constructed alternate identities, yes.”
Corinne studied the documentation with a critical eye. “This is really good. Where did you say you got these?”
“I did not say, and you should not ask.” He transferred the files to her personal device. “The less you know about certain aspects of my past, the safer you are.”
“Mysterious. I like it.” She kissed his cheek. “Let’s go start our new life, mysterious retired merchant trader.”
They descended the ramp into warm, humid air that smelled of salt and something vaguely floral. The sun hung low on the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple. In the distance, waves crashed against a rocky shore.
Mikoz squirmed in Corinne’s arms, reaching toward the ocean as if drawn to it. Anya spun in a slow circle, taking in the unfamiliar landscape. And Corinne looked at him with such trust and hope that his heart ached.
He took a deep breath and felt something in his chest loosen. This could work. This could actually work.