Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
The next morning he escorted them all down to the boat, then ran through the safety protocols with Anya and Corinne while Mikoz explored the deck with determined curiosity.
“Life vests stay on at all times,” he said firmly. “No exceptions. If you fall overboard, do not panic. The vests will keep you afloat and I will retrieve you immediately.”
“What if you fall overboard?” Anya asked.
“I will not.”
“But what if you do?”
He pointed to the emergency beacon mounted near the helm. “Activate that. It will alert the harbor authority and they will send rescue vessels.”
“What if—”
“Anya. I am Cire. We are natural swimmers and I have trained for water emergencies since childhood. The likelihood of me drowning is approximately the same as the likelihood of this vessel spontaneously transforming into a land mammal.”
She giggled. “So, zero?”
“Precisely zero.”
Corinne finished securing Mikoz’s small life vest and set him on a bench where he couldn’t easily tumble overboard. The infant immediately tried to remove the vest, clearly offended by its existence.
“He hates it,” she said.
“He will become accustomed.” He fired up the engine, feeling the familiar vibration through the deck. “Ready?”
They cast off from the dock and motored slowly through the harbor traffic. He kept them at cautious speeds until they cleared the breakwater, then opened up the throttle and aimed for the open ocean.
The wind caught Anya’s hair and she laughed with pure delight, leaning against the rail to watch the water rush past. Corinne held Mikoz, pointing out various features of the coastline and explaining what they were seeing.
Selik guided them to one of his favorite spots—a shallow area where the water ran clear and schools of small fish darted between rocks. He dropped anchor and killed the engine, letting them drift in the gentle current.
“This is beautiful,” Corinne breathed.
It was. The water reflected the sky’s pale blue-green, and the two moons were visible even during daylight, faint crescents hanging above the horizon. Rocky outcroppings broke the surface nearby, creating natural tide pools filled with colorful creatures.
“Can we swim?” Anya asked.
“If you stay close to the vessel and heed my warnings about currents, yes.”
She whooped and dove over the side before he could add more instructions. Corinne made a worried noise, but he had already tracked Anya’s trajectory and calculated she’d surface safely.
She did, sputtering and grinning. “It’s cold!”
“It’s ocean water. What did you expect?” Corinne called back.
“I don’t know. Warmer?”
He stripped off his shirt and dove in after her, the shock of cold water against his skin bracing and pleasant. He surfaced beside Anya and demonstrated a basic floating technique, then showed her how to use the current rather than fight it.
Jarrek had been teaching her theory. He taught her practice.
When Corinne called them back to the boat, Anya climbed aboard shivering and happy, wrapping herself in a towel while she chattered about everything she’d seen underwater.
“Now it is Mikoz’s turn,” he announced.
“Absolutely not,” Corinne said immediately.
“He needs to learn water safety.”
“He’s a baby.”
“He is Cire. We begin water training young.” He lifted Mikoz from her arms, ignoring her protests. “Trust me.”
He carried the infant to the rail and stepped over, lowering them both into the water in one smooth motion. Mikoz’s eyes went wide, then he let out a delighted chirp and began paddling instinctively.
“See?” he called up to where Corinne leaned over the rail looking terrified. “Natural swimmer.”
“He’s going to drown and I’m going to kill you.”
“He is not going to drown. Watch.”
He supported Mikoz’s weight with one hand, letting the infant experiment with moving his limbs.
Within minutes, Mikoz was propelling himself in short bursts, his natural Cire instincts taking over.
When he started to tire, he lifted him back onto the boat where Corinne immediately wrapped him in towels and checked him for injuries.
“You’re insane,” she muttered. “Both of you are insane.”
But she was smiling, and Mikoz was chirping happily, and Anya was already asking when they could do this again.
They spent the afternoon on the water, eating the lunch Corinne had packed and exploring the tide pools near the rocky outcroppings. Selik showed them how to read the tides, how to identify weather patterns, and how to respect the ocean’s power.
It was the best day he could remember having in years.
As the sun began its descent, they motored back to port. Anya fell asleep on one of the benches, exhausted from swimming and sun. Mikoz dozed against Corinne’s chest, his small snores audible over the engine noise.
He guided them through the harbor traffic and into their slip, smoothly executing the docking procedure. Jarrek was waiting on the dock—he’d promised to help secure the vessel—and together they made everything fast.
“Good day?” the boy asked.
“Perfect day.”
And it had been. Perfect in its simplicity, in the happiness of his family, in the peace of being exactly where he belonged.
They carried the sleeping children home, and Anya woke only long enough to stumble to her bed before collapsing again.
Mikoz went into his crib without protest, clearly exhausted.
“Thank you,” Corinne said as they prepared for bed. “For today. For all of this.”
“You do not need to thank me for giving you what should always have been yours.”
“Still. It was perfect.” She kissed him softly. “You’re perfect.”
“I am not. But I am yours.”
“Same thing.”
They made love slowly, both of them tired but unwilling to let the day end without that connection. Afterward, Corinne fell asleep almost immediately, her body relaxed and trusting against his. He held her and stared at the ceiling and tried not to think about how temporary this happiness might be.
The days that followed continued in the same comfortable rhythm.
He worked his shifts for Captain Drov, learning the seasonal patterns and building his reputation as a reliable fisherman.
Corinne continued at the processing facility, her speed and efficiency earning praise from Chanda.
Anya studied and explored and spent increasing amounts of time with Jarrek, though always within the boundaries Selik had established.
And Mikoz grew, his vocabulary expanding daily, his coordination improving, his personality emerging as something uniquely his own.
They had become part of the community. Jarrek’s family had them over for dinner regularly, and Selik found himself enjoying conversations with Jarrek’s father about fishing techniques and market conditions.
Corinne made friends with several of the women at the processing facility, and came home with stories and gossip that she shared over dinner.
It was normal. Ordinary. Everything he’d never thought he’d have again. And then the message came.
He was preparing for bed when his private comm device—the one only Tarak knew how to reach—buzzed with an incoming transmission.
He stared at it for a long moment, dread settling cold in his gut.
Three months of silence from his former second in command.
Three months of no contact, no updates, no warnings.
That silence ending could only mean one thing.
He stepped onto the deck, making certain he was alone before accepting the transmission. Tarak’s face appeared on the small screen, his expression carefully neutral.
“Commander.”
“I am no longer a commander.”
“Of course. My apologies.” Tarak glanced at something off-screen. “I have news that requires your attention.”
“Report.”
“The Council has ceased their active search for the infant. The official explanation is that he died during a trafficking incident—there was apparently a small body recovered that matched Cire physiology, and they’ve accepted it as conclusive evidence.”
Relief flooded through him so powerfully it weakened his knees. “They are certain?”
“As certain as they can be without genetic confirmation, which they claim is impossible given the condition of the remains.” Tarak’s expression softened slightly. “You are safe, Selik. The child is safe. The Council has declared the matter closed.”
“And my departure from the Patrol?”
“Attributed to grief and the desire for solitude. Several officers have filed reports supporting your need for extended leave. Officially, you’re taking personal time to process the loss and are expected to return when you’re ready.” Tarak paused. “Though no one expects you to actually return.”
He processed this information, looking for the trap. “Why are you telling me this now?”
“Because I thought you would want to know. You can stop running. Stop hiding. You can access all of your funds. You can go wherever you want and do whatever you want. You are free.”
Free.
The word should have filled him with joy. Instead, it felt like a death sentence.
“I understand,” he said carefully. “Thank you for the information.”
“Selik.” Tarak leaned forward, his expression serious. “This is good news. You can take your family anywhere. You can give your mate the life she deserves instead of hiding in a small frontier colony.”
“Yes. Good news.”
They spoke for a few more minutes—logistics and cautions about maintaining the cover story. When the transmission ended, he stood on the deck and stared at the dark water.
Free. Free to take Corinne and Anya back to Earth. Free to give them what they’d lost. Free to return them to their world and their people and everything they’d been stolen from. And free to lose everything that mattered to him.
Because Corinne would want to go back. Of course she would. She’d been torn from her life, her world, her entire civilization. She’d adapted to Tillich Two because she’d had no choice, because staying alive required it, because she was strong enough to make the best of any situation.