Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The nets came up heavy with the morning catch, silver scales flashing in the pale dawn light.
Selik braced himself against the roll of the deck and hauled, muscles burning with the familiar ache of honest labor.
Beside him, Jarrek worked the winch with ease of long practice, calling out warnings when the load shifted.
“Good haul,” the boy said, grinning. “My father will be pleased.”
He grunted an acknowledgment and helped guide the net over the side.
Fish spilled onto the deck in a writhing mass—long-bodied creatures with fins that reminded him of Ciresian sand eels, mixed with rounder specimens that Jarrek called rock-backs.
The smell of brine and scales filled his nostrils, sharp and clean.
Three months on Tillich Two’s waters had taught him to read the currents, to anticipate the tidal shifts, to recognize the subtle signs that meant a good fishing ground versus a waste of time and fuel.
Velik had been right—everything he’d learned as a child on Ciresia needed translation here, but the fundamentals remained the same. Work efficiently and respect the water.
He’d spent the first two months working on Captain Drov’s boat before purchasing his own.
Drov had arranged for him to purchase it at a discount, and Selik had agreed to provide part of his catch in return, an arrangement that worked for both of them.
He’d also agreed to take on Jarrek as an assistant, another decision that had worked out well.
The boy already had a considerable amount of knowledge, he worked without complaint, and he asked intelligent questions.
He sorted the catch with Jarrek, throwing back the juveniles and the protected species while keeping everything else. His hands moved automatically, leaving his mind free to wander to more pleasant thoughts.
Corinne would be at the processing facility by now, her small hands working with surprising speed as she cleaned and packaged fish for transport to the core worlds.
She hated the smell and the monotony, but she never complained.
Every evening she returned home exhausted, and every morning she rose before dawn to do it again.
My fierce mate, he thought proudly. So much stronger than she believes herself to be.
Anya would be finishing her morning studies—mathematics and literature that Corinne assigned, supplemented by the practical lessons he’d added about navigation and engineering.
The girl had a quick mind when she chose to apply it, though he suspected she spent more time thinking about Jarrek than her equations.
He was not blind. He saw the way the boy looked at Anya, the way she preened when Jarrek complimented her.
But Jarrek was respectful and hardworking, and his mother Rissan had welcomed their family with genuine warmth.
As long as the boy continued to behave with honor, he would allow the friendship to develop naturally.
And Mikoz… Mikoz would be with the neighbor’s daughter who minded him during the day. The infant had grown so much in three months—walking steadily now, attempting words in both Standard and Ciresian, displaying a personality that combined curiosity with stubborn determination.
My son, he thought, still amazed by the certainty of that claim. Not by blood, but by choice. By the bond that formed when he held the tiny life in his arms and promised to protect him.
“You’re smiling,” Jarrek observed. “Thinking about your family?”
“I am.”
“My dad says you’re lucky. Not many males get a second chance after losing their first mate.”
His hands stilled on the fish he was sorting. “Why does your father think that?”
“Everyone knows what happened to the Cire, sir. Well, everyone who pays attention.” Jarrek hauled another section of the net aboard.
Logical. And yet he could not shake the unease that had settled between his shoulders.
Three months of peace was longer than he’d expected, but he was afraid that it was only temporary.
The Council would not forget about Mikoz.
They would keep searching, keep asking questions, keep pressing their network of informants.
Eventually, someone would talk.
The rest of the shift passed in companionable silence.
He had come to appreciate Jarrek’s steady presence.
When Captain Drov had suggested taking him on, he had initially refused.
But Jarrek had worn down his resistance through persistence and genuine interest. And having the boy aboard meant he could take on more challenging work, which meant more income for his family.
Family. The word still felt strange in his mind, weighted with joy and terror in equal measure.
They returned to port as the sun climbed toward its zenith, unloading their catch at the processing facility where Corinne worked. He caught glimpses of her through the open bay doors—dark hair tucked under a cap, hands moving deftly as she gutted and cleaned.
She looked up as if sensing his presence and offered a small wave. The smile she gave him was tired but genuine, and it warmed something deep in his chest.
Mine, his instincts whispered. My mate, my family, my purpose.
Jarrek elbowed him gently. “You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“Looking at her like she’s water and you’ve been lost in the desert for a week.”
“That is an oddly specific comparison.”
“My mom says it’s romantic. My dad says it’s nauseating.” The boy grinned. “I think it’s nice. Anya says you’re all serious and scary with everyone else, but you turn into mush when she’s nearby.”
Selik’s tail flicked with irritation. “I do not turn into ‘mush.’”
“If you say so, sir.”
They finished unloading and collected their pay from Captain Drov’s first mate. Selik pocketed his credits and calculated how much closer they were to his goal—enough saved to pay off the boat and purchase the house they were currently renting. Another two months, perhaps three.
Assuming they were still here in two months.
Assuming the Council hadn’t found them.
Assuming this fragile happiness didn’t shatter like everything else he’d ever tried to hold onto.
He shoved the dark thoughts aside and headed home. The walk from the docks took fifteen minutes along the waterfront path, past vendors selling fresh catch and repair shops that smelled of oil and metal. The afternoon sun beat down on his skin, warming him pleasantly.
Their house came into view, small and sturdy on its stilts above the tide line. Mikoz sat on the deck with Chanda’s daughter Liara, both of them playing with a collection of shells and smooth stones. The infant looked up as he approached and let out an excited chirp.
“Sah!” Mikoz toddled toward him on unsteady legs. “Sah, sah!”
He caught him before he could tumble off the deck and lifted him high, earning delighted shrieks. The sound made his heart clench with emotions he still couldn’t fully name.
“Thank you for watching him,” he told Liara.
The teenage girl waved off his gratitude. “He’s easy. Mostly he just stacks rocks and babbles.” She gathered her things. “Mom wanted me to invite you all for dinner tomorrow night. She’s making that stew you liked.”
“We would be honored to attend.”
After Liara left, he settled on the deck with Mikoz and let the infant climb over him like a particularly determined obstacle. The boy had no fear, launching himself from Selik’s knee to grab his tail, then using that as leverage to scramble up his back.
“You will injure yourself,” he warned, catching him before he could tumble headfirst onto the deck.
Mikoz chirped his disagreement and immediately tried again.
He had spent years as a warrior, trained to fight and kill with ruthless efficiency.
He’d commanded dozens of males, led missions into hostile territory, made decisions that determined whether people lived or died.
None of it had prepared him for the terror of keeping one small, fearless infant alive.
Anya arrived home an hour later, her arms full of food supplies from the market. She dumped everything on the kitchen counter and collapsed onto the couch with theatrical exhaustion.
“I hate math,” she announced. “It’s pointless and boring and I’m never going to use it for anything.”
“You used it today when you calculated the cost of those supplies,” he pointed out.
“That’s different. That’s practical.”
“All mathematics is practical. You simply have not encountered the applications yet.”
She threw a pillow at him, which he caught easily. Mikoz laughed and clapped his hands, delighted by the game.
“You’re supposed to be on my side,” Anya grumbled.
“I am on the side of your education.”
“Same thing.”
“It is not.”
They’d had this argument before. Anya resisted structure and discipline, preferring to learn through experience rather than formal study.
He understood the impulse—he’d been similar at her age—but he also knew that knowledge saved lives.
The more she learned now, the better equipped she’d be to handle whatever challenges the future held.
And if the Council found them, she would need every advantage she could get.
“Jarrek said you’re going to take us out on the boat tomorrow,” she said, changing the subject. “Is that true?”
“If the weather holds, yes.”
“That’s so exciting! I’ve never been on a real fishing boat before.” She sat up, eyes bright. “Can I help with the nets? Jarrek has been teaching me how they work.”
“We shall see.”
“That means no.”
“It means we shall see. If you demonstrate competence in basic safety protocols, you may assist with simple tasks.”
She grinned, recognizing the compromise for what it was—as close to permission as he was willing to give without more information.
Corinne arrived as the sun touched the horizon, bringing with her the smell of fish and cleaning chemicals. She kissed Mikoz, ruffled Anya’s hair, and pressed her face against Selik’s chest for a long moment before pulling away.
“Rough day?” he asked.