Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Selik stood at the window, his attention focused on the street outside.
Two hours since they’d returned from the market.
Two hours of checking weapons he’d hidden throughout the house.
Two hours of running through scenarios and escape routes and calculating how long it would take the Council’s forces to reach them if they’d somehow tracked Corinne’s encounter with Taranov.
Behind him, he could hear her putting Mikoz down for his nap. Her voice was soft and soothing, singing one of her Earth songs, and the normalcy of it made his chest ache.
I should have been more careful. I should have anticipated this. I should have moved us somewhere more remote.
The list of his failures grew with each passing moment.
She appeared in the doorway, arms crossed. “How long are you going to stand there?”
“Until I am certain we are safe.”
“And when will that be exactly? Next week? Next year? Never?”
He didn’t answer, couldn’t, because she was right—there would be no moment of certainty. No clear all-clear signal. Just endless vigilance and the weight of knowing that any moment could bring disaster.
She crossed to him, her footsteps soft on the wooden floor. “Talk to me.”
“I am considering our options.”
“Which are?”
“Limited.” He kept his eyes on the street. “We could flee again. Take the ship and find another world. Somewhere more remote and less populated.”
“We just built a life here.”
“A life means nothing if you are not alive to live it.”
“Selik—”
“I will not take chances with your safety. With any of your safety.”
“So we run. Again. And when they find us there, we run again. And again. Until what? Until we’re living in a cave somewhere eating rations and jumping at shadows?”
“If that is what it takes to keep you safe, yes.”
She made a frustrated sound. “That’s not living. That’s existing. And I didn’t survive captivity and escape just to spend the rest of my life hiding.”
“Better hiding than dead.”
“Is it?” She moved closer, putting a hand on his chest. “Because I seem to remember a certain Cire warrior telling me that fear couldn’t be allowed to steal our happiness.”
He caught her hand, holding it against his heart. “That was before I knew the Council was actively searching for Cire children.”
“The Council has always been a threat. This isn’t new information.”
“It is more urgent. More dangerous. Taranov sought us out specifically. That means others know where we are.”
“Or it means Taranov was looking for allies. For other families in the same situation.”
“Perhaps.” He pulled her closer, careful of her belly. “But I cannot take that risk. I will not lose another family.”
The words hung between them, heavy with old grief and fresh fear, and her expression softened.
“I know you’re scared. I’m scared too. But running won’t solve this. If the Council wants to find us, they will. Eventually.”
“Then what would you have me do?”
“Stay. Build the life we want and defend it if we have to.” She cupped his face. “You’re not alone in this anymore, Selik. We’re a family. We make decisions together.”
He wanted to argue, to insist that his experience and military training made him better equipped to assess threats and make strategic decisions.
But looking into her eyes—seeing the determination and steel beneath the warmth—he knew she was right.
They were stronger together. And treating her like a fragile thing to be protected rather than a partner with her own strength was an insult to everything she’d survived.
“I do not want to lose you,” he said quietly.
“Then don’t. Stay with me. Trust me. Let us face this together instead of making decisions based on fear.”
Before he could respond, Anya appeared in the doorway. “Someone’s coming up the path.”
He moved instantly, positioning himself between his family and the door. “Who?”
“I don’t know, but he’s Cire.”
Taranov.
“Get Corinne and Mikoz to the back room. Now.”
“I’m not hiding,” Corinne said.
“You are carrying our child. You will do as I say.”
Her eyes flashed. “Excuse me?”
“Please.” He gentled his tone with effort. “Please. Let me handle this. If it is safe, I will call for you.”
She held his gaze for a long moment, then nodded. “Five minutes. Then I’m coming out whether you call or not.”
“Agreed.”
Anya helped Corinne toward the back of the house while he checked the second weapon hidden in the drawer by the door. His first weapon was already in his hand. He wouldn’t use it unless absolutely necessary. But he would use it if it meant protecting his family.
The knock came—firm but not aggressive.
He waited, counting heartbeats.
Another knock. “Commander Selik? It is Taranov nak’Toren. I wish to speak with you. I am alone and unarmed.”
Praying he wasn’t making a mistake, he opened the door, gun held low but ready.
“State your business.”
“I apologize for frightening your mate in the market,” Taranov said. “That was not my intention. I wished to introduce myself, but I wanted to be sure that she was your mate first.”
“Are you from the Council?”
“Fuck, no. I hate those bastards. I live here on Tillich Two, but I have been away for the past several months because my mate decided we should take part in the trading this year after the spawning. She thought it would be good for our children to see other systems.”
“Children?” He dropped his weapon to his side.
“I have a son and two daughters.” Taranov hesitated. “A human daughter and a hybrid daughter. My mate is human,” he added quietly.
“Human?” A wave of shock rolled over him. “You mean…”
“That you are not the only one? Correct. And from the rumors I have been hearing, we are not alone.”
“I do not understand.”
“Then why don’t you let the poor male come in and explain?” Corinne said from behind him.
He automatically started to move between her and Taranov, then stopped. He no longer truly believed that the other male was a threat.
“Very well. You may enter.”
“Thank you.”
Taranov entered the room, bowing politely to Corinne.
“I am pleased to meet you. My mate wished to accompany me, but I thought it best that I clear the air first.” He gave a meaningful glance at the weapon in Selik’s hand, and he stiffened.
“I would never hurt a female.”
“I am relieved to hear that.” Taranov gave him a direct look. “Neither would I.”
He found he believed the other male, and he finally relaxed enough to holster his weapon.
“Now what were you saying?” Corinne demanded. “About us not being alone? Oh, and have a seat.”
Taranov smiled and thanked her.
“As you know, the Cire have always been taught that only a Cire male and a Cire female can form a mating bond. I am not sure if that was ever completely true, or if it was simply rare for it to occur. But it definitely does happen, as you now know.”
He was still reeling from the knowledge that there were others.
“But if this is true, then our race is no longer threatened with extinction.”
“That is the logical conclusion, but it is not a conclusion shared by the Council. They are still blind to anything except the production of purely Cire children.”
He exchanged a quick glance with Corinne and suspected she was thinking the same thing – Mikoz was a pure blood Cire infant. No wonder they had been desperate to get their hands on him, and perhaps still were.
“On the other hand, they have no interest in hybrid children. They prefer to ignore their existence, hoping that word of the possibility does not spread. For example,” Taranov said carefully, “if your son is registered as a hybrid, they would not be concerned with his existence.”
“Registered?” he asked slowly.
“If you intend to stay on Tillich Two, you would register for permanent residence as a Cire male, two human females, and a hybrid male.”
Could it be that simple? And would it be fair to Mikoz to ignore his true heritage? He glanced over at his mate and saw the same questions in her eyes.
“Thank you for the information,” he said noncommittally, and Taranov grinned.
“I can see you wish to discuss the matter further. And perhaps you do not intend to remain on Tillich Two. However, if you do, my mate Wendy would very much like to meet your mate.”
“I would like that as well,” she said immediately.
“We live in the big pink house down the street from the harbor. You would be welcome at any time.”
She laughed. “What a very male thing to say. After Selik and I talk, I will contact your mate and make arrangements for a suitable time.”
Taranov rose, and bowed politely.
“It was a pleasure to meet you both. I hope we will speak again.”
As soon as the door closed behind him, he turned to Corinne.
“Well, that was… unexpected.”
“A blessing is more like it,” she countered. “Not only are we not the only ones, but there’s a solution. All we have to do is register Mikoz as a hybrid and no one will bother us about him again.”
“I am not comfortable denying what he is.” The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. His son was Cire. Perhaps even the last trueborn Cire.
“I understand.” Her expression softened. “But we need to think about what’s best for him, not just what’s technically true.”
“Is lying about his identity what is best?”
“It’s one option. The other is we keep running. We leave everything behind and start over somewhere else.”
He didn’t want to run again. He was tired of running. He’d spent years running from the pain of losing his family. He didn’t want to run from this new one.
“What do you think?”
She was quiet for a long moment, one hand rubbing Mikoz’s back in the unconscious soothing gesture she used when thinking. “I think lying about his heritage feels wrong. Like we’re denying who he is.”
“Agreed.”
“But I also think keeping him safe is more important than pride or perfect honesty.” She met his eyes. “If claiming he’s half-human protects him from the Council, then that’s what we do. We can tell him the truth when he’s older. When he’s safe.”
The weight on his chest eased slightly. Having her agreement, her support, made the decision feel less like betrayal and more like strategy.
“Very well. We will spread the story. Make it known that Mikoz is the child of a human mother who died in captivity. That I took him in as part of my family.”
“And our baby?”
“Half-Cire. The biological child of our bonding.” He set the datapad and chip on the table. “I will need to verify this information before we trust it completely. But if Taranov is telling the truth, this gives us a path forward that does not require fleeing.”
“Good.” Corinne shifted Mikoz to her other hip. “Because I’m getting really tired of running.”
Anya appeared in the hallway. “So we’re staying?”
“We are staying,” he confirmed. “But with enhanced security measures. And a cover story to protect Mikoz.”
“Half-human baby brother. Got it.” Anya looked thoughtful. “Actually, that might make things easier at school when I start next term. People already ask about him.”
“What do you tell them?”
“That he’s my brother and they should mind their own business.” She grinned. “But now I can tell them the official story instead.”
Mikoz chose that moment to lunge for him, nearly tumbling out of Corinne’s arms. He caught him automatically, pulling the child against his chest.
“Dada!” Mikoz patted his face enthusiastically.
The word still made his heart squeeze. This child who was not his blood but was absolutely his son.
“Yes, little one. I am here.”
“I suppose we’ll need to start using that story,” Corinne said. “People will start asking questions when the baby comes. Better to have our answers consistent.”
He nodded, mind already working through the implications. They would need to be careful. Consistent. Make sure everyone who asked received the same story.
Mikoz was a half-human child, born of love and bonding but not the traditional Cire mating that produced pure bloodlines. It was a lie that held enough truth to be believable. And if it kept the Council away, kept his family safe, then it was a lie he would tell for the rest of his life.
The next week passed in a strange combination of vigilance and normalcy.
He spent hours going through the information Taranov had provided, cross-referencing it with his own intelligence sources and contacts still within the Patrol.
Everything checked out. The Council was indeed searching for Cire children.
They had teams operating throughout the sector.
And their interest focused specifically on pure bloodlines.
Half-Cire children were noted in their databases but classified as non-priority. Interesting from a genetic research standpoint but not valuable for their breeding programs. The cold calculation of it made his skin crawl. But it also confirmed that Taranov’s strategy would work.
He started spreading the story carefully.
Mentioned to Jarrek’s father that Mikoz was the child of a human woman who had died in captivity.
Told the merchant at the supply shop that yes, his mate was expecting a half-Cire infant.
The story spread naturally from there, the way information did in small communities.
Within days, everyone seemed to know that the Cire commander had bonded with a human and was raising a mixed family.
Some approved, some didn’t, but no one questioned it. No one suggested the children were anything other than what Selik claimed.
And slowly, carefully, he began to relax his guard.
Not completely. He still checked the security systems multiple times per day.
He still varied their routines and kept weapons hidden throughout the house.
But he also allowed himself to enjoy the small moments.
Mikoz taking more confident steps, eventually running more than walking.
Anya diving into her studies with renewed focus now that she wasn’t worried about being uprooted again.
Corinne growing rounder and more beautiful with each passing day.
And one evening, as he watched Corinne teach Mikoz to stack blocks while Anya read aloud from one of her history texts, he felt something he hadn’t experienced in years.
Peace.
Not the absence of threat. Not the illusion of safety. But genuine peace born from the knowledge that he had done everything in his power to protect his family. That he had made the hard choices and accepted the necessary compromises. That he was no longer facing the world alone.
Corinne looked up from her game with Mikoz and caught his eye. “What?”
“Nothing. Just thinking.”
“About?”
“How fortunate I am.”
She smiled, the expression warming her whole face. “We all are.”
Mikoz knocked over his tower of blocks with a delighted shriek, then immediately started rebuilding it. Anya laughed at something in her text. Outside, the ocean waves provided a constant backdrop of sound.
Home, he thought. This was home.
And he would defend it with everything he had.