Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Corinne’s legs trembled as she descended the ramp, and she wasn’t entirely sure whether it was from six days in cramped quarters or from the weight of what they were doing. Running. Hiding. Building a life on lies and forged documents with a male she’d known for less than two months.
But what a male.
She glanced at Selik as he surveyed the spaceport with the practiced eye of someone who’d spent his life assessing threats.
Even in civilian clothes—a simple dark tunic and pants that somehow made him look even more dangerous than his uniform—he moved with predatory grace.
His tail swayed behind him in a slow rhythm she’d learned meant he was alert but not alarmed.
Mikoz grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked.
“No.” She carefully extracted his tiny fists from the strands. “We’ve discussed this, remember? Hair stays attached to heads.”
The infant chirped and immediately reached for her hair again.
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” she muttered, shifting him to her other hip.
The spaceport sprawled before them, a chaotic mix of landing pads and cargo facilities that somehow felt more alive than the sterile military vessel they’d left behind.
Ships of various sizes occupied the bays—sleek personal flyers like theirs, battered cargo haulers with mismatched hull plating, even something that looked like it had been cobbled together from three different vessels and held together with hope and welding scars.
But it was the people that made her stop and stare.
Dozens of different types of aliens occupied the port.
A family of four-armed blue-skinned beings unloaded crates from a nearby ship, their movements synchronized with an efficiency that suggested telepathy or long practice.
Something that looked vaguely reptilian but walked on six legs skittered past carrying a datapad in what might have been a mouth.
A massive creature covered in rust-colored fur lumbered by, ducking to avoid hitting the overhead canopy.
“There are so many different people,” she said, her voice small even to her own ears.
“Tillich Two is a trade hub.” His hand settled on the small of her back, warm and steadying. “The Tillichi are the native inhabitants, but there are at least fifteen other species residing here.”
“Fifteen?”
“Perhaps more. I am working from outdated census data.”
A group of pink-skinned aliens walked past, several of them with cybernetic implants that glowed faintly purple in the fading light.
This is my life now, she thought. Aliens and criminals and forged identities.
The panic that had been hovering at the edges of her consciousness since they left the Patrol ship threatened to break through.
She’d been a literature professor. Her biggest concern three months ago had been whether her students would actually read the assigned texts or rely on summary websites.
She’d taught classes on metaphor and narrative structure and the evolution of language.
Now she was a fugitive raising an alien infant while bonded to a warrior who’d lost everything and rebuilt himself.
“Corinne.” Selik’s voice pulled her back from the edge. “Breathe.”
She sucked in air that tasted of salt and something floral she couldn’t identify. Not Earth flowers—the scent was too sweet, almost cloying. But underneath it, she caught the familiar smell of ocean and wet stone and the particular dampness that came from being near large bodies of water.
Ocean.
She turned toward the sound of waves and saw it—a vast expanse of blue-green water stretching to the horizon. The sun hung low in the sky, painting the surface in shades of copper and gold. White foam crowned the waves as they rolled toward a rocky shoreline dotted with what looked like tide pools.
“It’s beautiful,” Anya breathed beside her. “I didn’t think… I mean, I knew it was a water world, but I didn’t expect it to look so much like home.”
“Earth’s oceans are blue,” she said. “This is more green.”
“Close enough.” Her stepdaughter shaded her eyes against the setting sun. “Can we go swimming? I haven’t been swimming in forever.”
“Perhaps tomorrow.” Selik guided them away from the landing pad toward a cluster of buildings that formed the port’s administrative center. “Tonight we need to secure housing and register our arrival.”
The registration office was staffed by a bored-looking alien whose skin shifted through shades of purple as they processed Selik’s forged documents. They barely glanced at Corinne or the children, just scanned the files into their system and handed over temporary residence permits.
“Welcome to Tillich Two,” the administrator said in a flat, uninterested voice. “Permits are valid for sixty days. If you wish to establish permanent residence, you’ll need to apply through the colonial administration. Next.”
That was it. No questions about where they’d come from or why they’d chosen this particular backwater colony. No suspicious scrutiny of their too-perfect documents. Just bureaucratic indifference and a waved dismissal.
Outside, she released a huge sigh of relief.
“I thought they’d ask more questions.”
“Why would they?” He pulled up a map on his datapad. “Like most worlds, they lost people to the Red Death. They do not care about our pasts as long as we contribute to the economy and do not cause trouble.”
“But what if someone recognizes you? You were a Patrol Commander. That’s not exactly anonymous.”
“I served in deep space, far from established trade routes. The likelihood of encountering anyone who knows my face is minimal.” He studied the map with a frown.
“And if we do encounter such a person, we will deal with it at that time. Worrying about possibilities we cannot control only wastes energy better spent on preparation.”
The fact that he was right did nothing to help her anxiety.
Anya tugged on her sleeve. “I’m hungry. Can we find food before we start looking for a place to stay?”
Mikoz chose that moment to voice his agreement with a demanding chirp.
“Food first,” Selik agreed. “Then housing.”
The market district sprawled along the waterfront, a maze of stalls and permanent shops selling everything from fresh fish to clothing to what looked like alien technology she couldn’t begin to identify.
The air smelled of cooking spices and salt water and something sweet that made her stomach growl.
They found a food vendor selling grilled seafood and vegetables on skewers. Selik ordered for all of them, adding a quiet comment that made the vendor—a stocky female with burnished copper skin—laugh and give them larger portions.
“First time on Tillich Two?” The female handed over the skewers wrapped in something that resembled waxed paper.
“Newly arrived,” Selik confirmed. “We are looking to establish a fishing operation.”
“Good luck with that. Waters are profitable if you know what you’re doing, but they’ll kill you fast if you don’t respect them.” She nodded toward the ocean. “Tides here run twenty feet because of the moons. Miss your window and you’ll be stranded until the next cycle.”
“Noted. Any recommendations for housing near the water?”
“Try the south shore. The rents are cheaper and the locals are friendlier.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “Between you and me, avoid the north district unless you like your neighbors asking too many questions.”
Selik pressed a few extra credits into her palm. “Your advice is appreciated.”
They ate their food on a low wall overlooking the water, watching the sun sink below the horizon.
The skewers were delicious—firm white fish with a slightly sweet flavor, vegetables she didn’t recognize but tasted like a cross between peppers and mushrooms, all glazed with something tangy and complex.
Anya demolished hers in record time. “Can we get more?”
“Tomorrow.” She wiped grease from her fingers with the waxed paper. “We need to find somewhere to sleep tonight.”
“I could eat like six more of these.”
“You’re a bottomless pit.”
“I’m a growing teenager. It’s science.”
Mikoz fussed against her chest, and she realized he needed changing. Again. The joys of parenthood apparently transcended species.
Selik took him without being asked, disappearing into a public facility and returning a few minutes later with a clean, happy infant who immediately tried to grab the nearest reflective surface.
“He saw himself in the mirror,” Selik explained. “He appeared to believe it was another infant. He tried to chirp at his reflection for several minutes before accepting it was only him.”
She laughed despite her exhaustion. “Did you get that on video?”
“Of course.”
The south shore district turned out to be a collection of small houses and apartment buildings built on stilts above the tide line. Wooden walkways connected the structures, and the sound of water lapping against support posts created a constant gentle rhythm.
Selik found them a rental through a property management company run by a cheerful Tillichi female who didn’t even blink at their mixed-species family.
She showed them three options—a cramped apartment above a fish processing facility, a slightly larger unit with no kitchen, and a small standalone house at the end of one of the walkways.
The house was perfect.
Two bedrooms, a modest kitchen, a living area with windows that overlooked the water, and a tiny bathroom with actual running water. The furniture was basic but functional—beds with real mattresses, a table with chairs, storage units built into the walls.
“We’ll take it,” she said before Selik could even ask about the price.
The female’s eyes brightened. “Excellent choice. The previous tenants were a young couple who relocated to one of the inner systems. They left the place in good condition.” She pulled up a contract on her datapad.
“First month’s rent plus deposit, and you’re responsible for utilities and basic maintenance. ”