19. Daisy
Daisy
After three months of peace and quiet on Nazen, I feel like I can finally breathe. I wake up every morning knowing that those I love are safe.
"More tea?" Abigail asks, holding up the pot of Sorvanian blend that's become part of our frequent afternoon gatherings.
"Please," I say, extending my cup.
We're in the garden behind the community center — Abigail, Breanna, Carmen, and me. Afternoon tea for the four ladies of Earth.
The garden is beautiful, a testament to what the refugee population has built here. Green plants thrive in carefully tended beds, flowers bloom in riots of color never seen on Earth, and a small fountain provides the soothing sound of running water.
"I can't believe it's already been three months since you got here," Breanna says. “You’ve adjusted really well."
“After going through so much," Carmen agrees. "Jungle planet, Virdathian battle cruisers, no idea if you’d survive….”
“Well,” I say, “there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
It’s strange to admit, but Earth feels like a lifetime ago — a dream I had once, pleasant but distant. This is my reality now: Nazen's beautiful sunsets, Hakan's arms around me at night, the boys' laughter echoing through our home, Kano's gentle telepathic lessons.
"Do you every miss it?" Breanna asks. "Earth, I mean?"
I consider her question. "I miss pizza. I miss ... knowing how everything works, I guess. Not having to learn new customs and technologies every day."
"But?" Carmen prompts, because she knows there's a but.
"I don't miss being lonely," I finish. "I don't miss coming home to an empty apartment. I don't miss feeling like I was just going through the motions of life instead of actually living it."
"Yes," Abigail breathes. "Exactly that."
We sit in companionable silence, sipping our tea, watching birds — or creatures that are almost but not quite birds — flit through the garden.
"How are things with Hakan?" Breanna asks with a knowing smile.
I feel heat creeping into my cheeks. Even after three months, talking about my relationship with Hakan makes me blush like a teenager.
"Good," I say, trying for casual and failing. "Really good."
"Just good?" Carmen teases. "Come on, Daisy. We've all seen the way that man looks at you. Like you're the most precious thing in the galaxy.”
“Well,” I say immediately, “ Adan and Karn and Xan are the same with the three of you.”
“Don’t we know it,” Carmen purrs, and we all laugh.
“Praise be the paxana bond,” Abigail adds.
We laugh again and I'm struck by how normal this feels. How ordinary. Four women having tea and talking about their men, their lives, their hopes. The fact that we're on an alien planet and our men are blue-skinned Kravan warriors with glowing body parts is almost beside the point.
"How's the telepathic shield training going?" Abigail asks. "Kano's been working with you for a while now."
“I'm getting better," I report. "Hakan's become quite good — his warrior training definitely helps. You know, the mental discipline. It’s taking me a bit longer, but I'm improving.”
Breanna looks at her watch. “Sorry, ladies, have to get going. I promised Taq that I’d make his favorite Verran stew this evening.”
The rest of us rise to our feet and, after exchanging hugs, I head home, which in my case is a short walk away. In the sky above, the twin suns are setting, painting the sky in shades of purple and orange that Earth never knew.
Home. The word still feels miraculous.
Our dwelling is modest but comfortable — a structure built into the canyon wall, with rooms carved from the rock and reinforced with modern materials. It has a common area, a kitchen, and sleeping quarters for us, the boys, and Grandfather Kano.
It's ours. Our family home.
The boys and Grandfather Kano are in the common area, playing Joressa. They look up when I enter, and I feel their telepathic brushes against my mind — casual greetings, checking to make sure I'm well.
"Where's Hakan?" I ask.
*Still with the Javardians,* Kano replies, his telepathic voice gentle in my mind. *The irrigation project hit a snag. He should be home soon.*
"I'll start dinner," I say, heading for the kitchen.
I'm chopping vegetables — real vegetables, grown in the settlement's gardens — when I feel Hakan's presence returning. It's one of the gifts of the paxana bond: I always know when he's near, can sense his emotions like they're my own.
Right now, he's tired but satisfied. The kind of fatigue that comes from productive work.
The door opens and he enters, his blue skin dusty from the day's labor, his dark hair pulled back in a tail. His face lights up when he sees me, the golden glow in his amber eyes intensifying.
"Amavi," he says warmly, crossing to me and pulling me into his arms despite his dusty state. "I missed you."
"I missed you too," I murmur against his chest.
"How was your afternoon with the women?"
"Good. Wonderful, actually." I pull back to look at him. "How was the irrigation project?"
"Challenging, but we made progress. The Javardians are brilliant farmers — their knowledge combined with Nazenese engineering is producing impressive results." He sniffs the air. "Something smells delicious."
“Grilled dakkan, veggies, and fresh bread. Should be ready in about thirty minutes."
"Perfect. I’ll wash up."
He kisses me, then heads to the bathroom.
Dinner is a cheerful affair. The boys chatter about their day — lessons at school, a game of chase with the Javardian children who live next door. Grandfather Kano listens with obvious love, occasionally offering gentle telepathic guidance.
After dinner, the boys help clean up, and Grandfather Kano retires to his room, claiming fatigue. But I catch the knowing glint in his eye as he leaves, and I realize he's sensed that I'm holding something close.
Telepaths are difficult to surprise.
Finally, blessedly, the boys head to their room, tired after a long and busy day, and Hakan and I are alone.
He's settled on the couch in our common area, reading a technical manual about agricultural systems. He looks peaceful and content in his casual domesticity.
My heart swells with love for him.
"Hakan?" I say softly.
He looks up and sets down the manual. "What is it, amavi?"
“There’s something I need to tell you."
His eyebrows rise and interest flares in his amber eyes — the kind of interest that usually leads to our clothes ending up scattered across the floor.
"Is everything all right?” he murmurs.
"Everything's perfect," I assure him, taking his hands in mine. "Better than perfect. I just ... I have something to tell you, and I wanted you to be the first to know."
He goes very still, his warrior instincts making him hyper-alert. "You're worrying me."
"It's good news. Amazing news. I just..." I take a deep breath. "I'm pregnant, Hakan. We're going to have a baby."
For a moment, he doesn't move. Doesn't speak. Just stares at me with an expression I can't quite read.
Then his eyes start to glow — brilliant gold, brighter than I've ever seen them.
"Pregnant," he breathes. "You're carrying our child?"
My hand moves to my belly. "Yes."
He leans forward, his hands covering mine over my stomach. His touch is reverent, gentle, full of wonder.
"A baby," he whispers. "We're going to have a baby."
"Are you happy?" I ask, needing to hear the words.
He looks up at me, the joy on his face is almost blinding. "Happy? Daisy, I’m...." He seems to struggle for words. "When I lost my daughter, I thought I'd never know this joy again. Never feel this hope. And now —"
His voice breaks, and I see tears tracking down his blue cheeks.
I slide into his warm embrace and we hold each other, crying and laughing and celebrating this miracle we've created together.
"I love you," he says fiercely. "I love you so much, Daisy. And our child — our baby — I will protect with my life."
"I know," I assure him. "I know you will."
He kisses me, deep and passionate and full of promise. When we break apart, we're both breathless.
"When?" he asks. "When did you find out?"
“This morning. I wanted to tell you right away, but I wanted it to be special. Private."
"You've been shielding your thoughts all day," he realizes. “Your shielding is getting quite good.”
"I wanted you to be the first to know," I explain.
He stands, pulling me up with him. "Now we have to celebrate properly."
"Oh?" I smile up at him. "What did you have in mind?"
Instead of answering, he lifts me into his arms and carries me to our bedroom. I laugh, wrapping my arms around his neck, and he sets me down with infinite care.
“You are precious cargo," he says, his hand resting on my belly. "I have to be gentle."
"I'm not fragile," I protest. "The pregnancy is barely six weeks along."
"You're carrying my child," he says seriously. "That makes you the most important person in the galaxy. I'm going to treat you accordingly."
He proceeds to undress me slowly, his hands and mouth worshipping every inch of exposed skin. By the time I'm naked, I'm trembling with need.
"Hakan," I gasp. "Please."
"Patience, amavi," he murmurs, his own clothes disappearing with impressive speed.
When he's finally naked, I reach for him, needing to feel his skin against mine. His shaft is hard and glowing, the golden light pulsing with his heartbeat.
“You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he says, his voice rough with need.
He positions himself over me, supporting his weight on his arms, and slowly — so slowly — slides inside me.
We both gasp at the sensation. Even after three months of me taking him, every time still feels new. The stretch, the fullness, the connection that goes beyond physical.
He makes love to me with exquisite gentleness, his movements slow and measured, his eyes never leaving mine.
"I love you," he says with each thrust. "Love you and our baby. Our family."
I can only moan in response, overwhelmed by pleasure and emotion.
When my climax hits, it rolls through me in waves, my inner walls clenching around him rhythmically. He follows moments later, his seed glowing gold as it fills me, warm and precious.
We stay joined for a long time afterward, neither of us wanting to break the connection.
Finally, reluctantly, he withdraws and rolls to his side, pulling me against his chest.
"A baby," he murmurs into my hair. "We're going to have a baby."
"We are," I confirm, happiness bubbling through me.
"The boys are going to be thrilled. They've been asking when they'll get a little brother or sister."
I laugh. "Have they now?"
"Constantly. They have very strong opinions about what we should name the baby."
"Oh?" I prop myself up to look at him. "What do they suggest?"
“If it’s a boy, Riz says we should name him after a great Andreevan philosopher. If it’s a girl, Davi wants to name her after a character in an adventure story he's reading."
"And what do you think we should name them?" I ask.
His expression turns serious. "If it's a boy ... I'd like to name him Korran. After my younger brother."
My throat gets tight. “Korran is a wonderful name.”
He nods. “My brother was brave and kind and would have made an excellent father himself. I'd like to honor his memory."
"Korran," I say the name out loud, testing it. "I like it. It's strong. What if it's a girl?"
“I want you to choose," he says immediately. "Whatever name you think is right."
I settle back against his chest, my hand resting on my belly where our child grows.
“I love you so much,” I whisper.
“And I love you, Daisy,” he whispers, pulling me tight. “I will love and protect you, now and forever.”