Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
When Corinne woke the next morning, Selik was gone. But the blankets still held his warmth, and through the window she could see him on the small deck attached to their house, watching the sunrise with Mikoz balanced on his hip.
The infant pointed at the water and chirped excitedly.
“Yes,” Selik said, his deep voice carrying through the open window. “That is the ocean. We will go there later, but first we must let your mother sleep.”
She smiled and burrowed deeper into the blankets. For the first time in months, she felt safe.
The market district was already busy when they ventured out mid-morning. Vendors called out their wares in a dozen languages. Her translation implant recognized most of them, although a few remained incomprehensible.
She bought fresh fruit from a stall run by an alien whose skin shifted through rainbow colors as she explained the properties of each variety.
Selik haggled with a blue-skinned fishmonger over the price of something that looked like a cross between a lobster and a snake, eventually securing a deal that left both parties satisfied.
Anya dragged them to a clothing shop where she insisted on trying on half the inventory before settling on three outfits that actually fit her growing frame.
“You’re going to need new clothes in three months,” she warned as they paid.
“Then we’ll buy new clothes in three months. I refuse to walk around in pants that are three inches too short.”
They acquired other necessities—kitchen supplies, basic toiletries, toys for Mikoz that he immediately tried to eat. By the time they returned to the house, her feet ached and her arms were full of packages.
Selik had disappeared somewhere during their shopping, returning with a datapad full of notes and a satisfied expression.
“I have secured a meeting tomorrow with the harbormaster,” he announced. “He controls the fishing licenses and can recommend equipment suppliers.”
“You’re really doing this,” she said. “The fishing thing.”
“I am.” He pulled up schematics on the datapad. “My grandfather taught me the basics when I was young. I will need to adapt his techniques to Tillich Two’s native species, but the fundamental principles remain the same.”
She studied the diagrams—nets and lines and something that looked like a modified sonar system. “This is going to be expensive.”
“Tarak has arranged to transfer enough funds to purchase a small vessel and basic equipment.” He hesitated. “Though we will need additional income to sustain us long-term. I do not expect profits for at least several months as I learn the local waters.”
“I’ll find work.” She tried to sound more confident than she felt. “There have to be jobs that don’t require specialized skills or credentials.”
“The harbormaster mentioned that the processing facilities often need workers,” he said reluctantly. “The pay is modest but consistent.”
Processing fish. She’d gone from teaching literature at a university to gutting alien seafood for minimum wage.
“Sounds perfect,” she said, and meant it. Pride was a luxury she couldn’t afford. She still wanted to look into teaching but for right now, a paycheck was more important.
That afternoon, Selik took them down to the water. The tide was out, exposing rocky pools filled with strange creatures. Anya squealed when something with too many legs scuttled past her feet. Mikoz stared at the waves with single-minded fascination, reaching toward the water with both hands.
“He likes it,” she said, holding him back before he could toddle straight into the ocean.
“Cire are natural swimmers.” Selik crouched beside a tide pool, pointing out the various inhabitants to Anya. “We often begin water training at this age.”
“He’s ten months old.”
“Almost eleven months now. Old enough to learn basic floating techniques.” At her skeptical look, he added, “I will not allow him to drown, s’kara. Trust me.”
She did trust him. That was the terrifying part—she trusted this warrior she’d known for less than a month with not just her life but the lives of her children.
They stayed at the water’s edge until the sun began its descent toward the horizon. The two moons rose one by one, exactly as Anya had described—pale silver orbs climbing into the darkening sky.
“It’s beautiful here,” the girl said quietly. “I miss Earth, but this is… I don’t know. It feels like home could feel like this.”
“It does,” she agreed.
Selik said nothing, but his tail wrapped around her waist in that possessive gesture she’d come to love.
That evening, they ate dinner on their small deck—more grilled seafood from the market, fresh bread from a bakery run by a four-armed alien who’d given them extra loaves when she saw Mikoz. The baby sat in Selik’s lap, gnawing on a piece of soft fruit and getting juice everywhere.
“I met our neighbors today,” Anya announced between bites. “While you guys were shopping. The family next door has a son who’s like sixteen, and he works on a fishing boat. He said he could show me around if we wanted.”
“A sixteen-year-old boy wants to show you around?” She did her best to sound casual, but Anya rolled her eyes.
“Not like that. He was just being friendly.”
“Uh huh.”
Selik’s eyes narrowed. “What species?”
“I don’t know, but he has these cool little horns. His name is Jarrek and his family has been here for like five years. He’s really nice and he didn’t ask weird questions or anything.”
“I will meet this Jarrek before you spend time with him.”
“Seriously? You’re going to do the overprotective dad thing?”
“I am going to ensure your safety. If that requires meeting your potential friends, then yes.”
Anya rolled her eyes but looked secretly pleased, and she hid her smile behind her cup. Watching Selik navigate teenage drama was going to be entertaining.
After dinner, they sat on the deck and watched the moons climb higher. Mikoz fell asleep in her arms, his small body warm and heavy. Anya retreated to her room to read, leaving them alone under the alien sky.
“Are you happy?” he asked quietly.
She considered the question. A month ago, she’d been a prisoner on a Vedeckian ship, terrified and desperate and certain she’d never see home again. Now she sat on a deck overlooking an alien ocean with a baby in her arms and a warrior at her side.
“I am,” she said, surprised to realize it was true. “Scared and uncertain and worried about the future, but happy. Is that weird?”
“No. I feel the same.” He pulled her closer, careful not to disturb the sleeping infant. “This is not the life I imagined for myself. But it is good.”
“Your grandfather would be proud,” she said. “You’re following in his footsteps.”
His expression softened. “He taught me that honest work done well is its own reward. That providing for those you love brings more satisfaction than any amount of glory or recognition.” He looked out at the dark water.
“I did not understand when I was young. I wanted adventure and purpose. I wanted to matter.”
“You do matter. To us.”
“I know. And that is enough.”
They sat in comfortable silence, listening to the waves and the distant sounds of the colony settling in for the night. Somewhere nearby, someone played music—something with strings and a rhythm that made her think of lullabies.
“I start looking for work tomorrow,” she said. “The processing facilities, like you mentioned.”
“You do not have to. The funds Tarak transferred will sustain us for—”
“I want to contribute. I need to feel useful.” She shifted Mikoz to her other arm. “And we both know your funds won’t last forever. Better to start building income now while we have a buffer.”
He didn’t argue, which meant he agreed with her logic even if he didn’t like it.
“The harbormaster’s office is near the largest processing facility,” he said finally. “I will accompany you tomorrow and make introductions.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to.” His tail tightened around her waist. “Allow me this, s’kara. I cannot protect you from everything, but I can smooth your path where possible.”
She leaned against him, breathing in his scent—clean and spicy with a hint of the ocean spray that seemed to cling to everything on Tillich Two.
“Okay,” she said. “But I’m doing the actual talking. I don’t need you intimidating my potential employers.”
“I do not intimidate.”
“You absolutely intimidate. You’re a huge warrior with a stare that makes people confess to crimes they didn’t commit.”
His chest rumbled with amusement. “I will endeavor to look less intimidating.”
“Good luck with that.”
She carried Mikoz to bed a few minutes later, tucking him into his nest of blankets and stroking his forehead until she was sure he wouldn’t wake. Then she returned to the deck where Selik still sat, now studying something on his datapad.
“Fishing regulations,” he explained when he saw her looking. “There are protected species and seasonal restrictions I need to memorize.”
She settled beside him and rested her head on his shoulder. “Read them to me. I’ll help you study.”
“You need to sleep.”
“In a minute. First, tell me about fishing.”
So he did, his deep voice washing over her as he explained tidal patterns and net configurations and the migratory habits of the native species.
She didn’t understand half of it, but it didn’t matter.
What mattered was the quiet contentment in his tone, the way his tail kept her close, the future they were building one small decision at a time.
When she finally stumbled to bed an hour later, she fell asleep with the sound of waves in her ears and hope in her heart.
The processing facility was exactly as unpleasant as she had imagined. The smell hit her first—fish and salt and something vaguely chemical that made her eyes water. Then the noise—machinery and shouting and the constant slap of wet things hitting metal surfaces.