Chapter 20 #2
“A family.” The word came out rough, stripped of all pretense. “A mate who sees me as I am. A child to raise, to teach, to love. Something that’s mine—truly mine—that no Council, no government, no dying planet can take from me.”
Melissa’s throat tightened. She thought about her own life before all of this—the long hours at the clinic, the artificial insemination, the careful, controlled way she’d approached motherhood. Alone by choice, she’d told herself. Independent. Self-sufficient.
But the truth was simpler and more painful. She’d been alone because she’d been afraid. Afraid of trusting someone else with her heart, her dreams, her future.
“I want that too,” she whispered. “I didn’t know I wanted it until I met you, but I do.”
He kissed her then, a brief, fierce press of his mouth against hers. “Then we’ll have it. Together.”
“Together,” she agreed.
From somewhere down the tunnel, Wei-Lin cleared her throat pointedly. “Hate to interrupt the moment, but we’re burning daylight. Or whatever passes for daylight underground.”
Becsul pulled back, but not before his tail gave her waist one last squeeze. “She’s right. We need to move.”
Kellan was waiting exactly where Makram had said he would be.
He was younger than Melissa had expected—barely past adolescence by Cire standards, with skin that still had the bright, unmarked look of youth. But his eyes were old, shadowed with experiences no young person should have to carry.
“Captain Becsul.” He straightened to attention, his posture stiff and formal. “It’s an honor.”
“At ease, Kellan.” Becsul’s voice was gentle. “You’re doing me a favor, not reporting for duty.”
The young Cire relaxed slightly, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “The industrial sector is mostly clear. The regular patrols have been diverted to the main spaceport entrance, but there’s a checkpoint at the junction of tunnels C-7 and C-9 that wasn’t there yesterday.”
“Can we go around it?”
“Yes, but it adds another hour to the route.” Kellan hesitated. “There’s also… something else. I heard chatter on the security frequency. Naran’s people have brought in tracking animals. Some kind of modified hunters.”
Becsul’s expression didn’t change, but Melissa felt his tension through the bond that now connected them—a thread of steel running between their hearts.
“How long before they find the tunnel entrance?”
“I don’t know. Hours, maybe less.” Kellan’s skin flushed darker with anxiety. “I’m sorry, Captain. I should have known sooner.”
“You’ve done more than enough.” Becsul clasped the young Cire’s shoulder. “The information is invaluable. We’ll move quickly and avoid the checkpoint.”
They set off again, Kellan leading the way through passages that grew increasingly industrial—pipes running along the ceiling, the distant hum of machinery, the occasional flicker of emergency lighting. The air smelled different here, tinged with ozone and heated metal.
Melissa’s legs were screaming now, her back a solid knot of pain, but she forced herself to keep moving. Robbie had finally fallen asleep against her chest, lulled by the rhythm of her footsteps, and she was grateful for small mercies.
“Not much farther,” Sarah murmured beside her. The other woman looked as exhausted as Melissa felt, but determination burned in her eyes. “We’re going to make it.”
“We are,” Melissa agreed. Because the alternative was unthinkable.
The port access tunnels were a maze.
Kellan guided them through the twisting passages with confident familiarity, pointing out hazards and shortcuts with the ease of long practice. He’d grown up in this area, Melissa learned—his family had worked the industrial sector before the Red Death had claimed most of them.
“I was twelve when it happened,” he said quietly, when Becsul asked about his parents. “My mother died first. Then my sisters. My father held on for another year, but the grief… it was too much.”
“I’m sorry,” Melissa said, meaning it.
Kellan’s smile was sad but genuine. “Captain Becsul found me in the streets afterward. Gave me a purpose. A reason to keep going.” He glanced at Becsul with something like reverence. “He’s done that for a lot of us. The lost ones. The abandoned ones. The ones the Council forgot.”
Another piece of the puzzle. Another layer of the man she’d claimed as her mate.
How many lives have you touched? she wondered, watching Becsul move through the darkness ahead. How many people owe you everything?
They emerged into a larger tunnel, and suddenly Melissa could see light ahead—real light, not the artificial blue of their handheld devices. The port access was close.
“Wait.” Becsul held up his fist, and everyone froze.
Voices. Distant but approaching. And footsteps—heavy, booted footsteps that echoed through the tunnel with military precision.
“Patrol,” Kellan whispered. “They must have extended the perimeter.”
“How many?”
“I can’t tell. Three, maybe four.”
Becsul was already scanning the passage, his eyes finding a narrow maintenance alcove partially hidden by a tangle of pipes. “Everyone in there. Now. Stay quiet.”
They crowded into the alcove—barely big enough for all of them, bodies pressed together in the darkness. Melissa held her breath, her hand covering Robbie’s small body as if she could shield him from discovery by will alone.
The footsteps grew louder. She could hear voices now, fragments of conversation that made her blood run cold.
“—said the captain was with them. Tall bastard, black uniform—”
“—bounty’s enough to retire on. I’m not letting some tunnel rats—”
“—check every passage. Every alcove. No one gets through to the port—”
A light swept past the entrance to their hiding spot. Melissa pressed herself deeper into the shadows, feeling Sarah’s trembling body beside her, hearing Wei-Lin’s controlled breathing behind her.
Don’t wake up, she thought desperately, willing Robbie to stay asleep. Please, please don’t wake up.
The light lingered. One heartbeat. Two.
Then it moved on, and the footsteps continued past them.
No one moved for another full minute, until the sound of the patrol had faded completely. Then Becsul let out a slow breath.
“That was too close. We need another route.”
“There isn’t one.” Kellan’s voice was tight with frustration. “Not unless we go back the way we came, and if they’ve got tracking animals—”
“Then we don’t go back.” A new voice, calm and authoritative, came from somewhere in the darkness ahead.
They all tensed, but Becsul’s posture shifted—recognition, then relief. “Varn.”
An unfamiliar Cire stepped out of the shadows, tall even by Cire standards, with the lean, muscled build of a warrior and eyes that glittered with sharp intelligence.
“I heard you were causing trouble.” His smile was predatory but friendly. “Couldn’t resist coming to see for myself.”
“You should be on the outer rim. The supply mission—”
“Is being handled by my second. I received Makram’s message and made… alternative arrangements.” His gaze swept over their group, lingering on the humans with undisguised curiosity. “So these are the females Naran has been so desperate to acquire. I can see why he’s upset.”
“Can you get us to the port?”
“I can do better than that.” Varn’s smile widened.
“I can get you on a ship. I have a contact in the freight division who owes me a rather substantial favor. He’s arranged for a cargo inspection to be delayed by exactly thirty minutes.
That should give you enough time to reach the secondary loading bay and board the Mercy. ”
“The patrol—”
“Will be dealt with.” Varn’s tone left no room for argument. “Go. Now. Through the maintenance shaft at the end of this passage—it opens directly into the loading area. My contact will be waiting.”
Becsul clasped his arm, the same gesture he’d used with Makram. “I owe you.”
“You owe me nothing.” Varn’s expression softened, just for a moment. “You gave my brother a purpose when the plague took everything else from him. This barely begins to repay that debt.”
Another connection. Another life touched. She watched the exchange with growing wonder.
“Go,” Varn repeated. “And may your ancestors guide you to safety.”
The maintenance shaft was cramped and dark, but it opened exactly where Varn had promised—into a vast loading bay filled with cargo containers and the controlled chaos of a working spaceport.
Becsul led them through the maze of containers, moving with purpose towards a specific section where a medium-sized freighter sat waiting. The Mercy, she assumed—a battered vessel that looked like it had seen better centuries, but whose engines hummed with the steady promise of escape.
Another Cire male waited at the loading ramp, nervously checking a handheld device. He looked up as they approached, relief flooding his features.
“You’re late.”
“We were delayed.” Becsul’s voice was clipped. “Is everything prepared?”
“The cargo hold is ready. I’ve modified the life support to accommodate humans—the air will be thin but breathable.” The Cire gestured towards the ramp. “Get aboard. We need to seal up before the inspection team arrives.”
They hurried up the ramp, her legs threatening to give out with every step. The cargo hold was exactly as described—cramped, cold, and packed with crates that left barely enough room for their small group. But it was escape. It was freedom.
“Here.” The contact handed Becsul a small device. “Emergency beacon. If something goes wrong, activate it and my people will find you.”
“Thank you.”
“Thank Varn.” The Cire was already backing towards the ramp. “And Captain? Whatever happens… don’t let Naran win.”
The ramp sealed behind him with a pneumatic hiss.
They were alone.
She sank down against a crate, her body finally surrendering to exhaustion. Robbie stirred against her chest, making soft sounds of displeasure at the cold, and she automatically began to soothe him, her hands moving in practiced patterns.
“We made it.” Sarah’s voice was thick with tears. “We actually made it.”
“Not yet.” Wei-Lin’s tone was cautious, but even she couldn’t hide the relief in her eyes. “We’re not off the planet yet.”
“We will be.” Becsul settled beside her, his tail immediately wrapping around her waist. “The Mercy is a reliable vessel. I’ve used this route before.”
“How many people do you know?” she asked, exhaustion making her words blunt. “How many favors did you call in tonight?”
“Enough.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “And I would call in a thousand more for you and Robbie.”
The ship shuddered as the engines engaged, and she felt the subtle shift in gravity that meant they were moving. Lifting off. Leaving the planet behind.
She thought about Makram, waiting alone in the tunnels. About Kellan, with his old eyes and his youthful face. About Varn, who had abandoned his mission to help a friend. About all the connections, all the loyalties, all the debts and friendships that Becsul had built over fifteen years of service.
He’s leaving all of that for us.
“Hey.” She touched his face, turning him to meet her eyes. “Are you okay?”
“More than okay.” He caught her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”
“But your friends—your network—”
“Will continue without me. They will spread the truth about what Naran has done. They will fight for a future I helped them believe in.” His black eyes were steady, certain. “But I don’t need to be there for that fight. My fight is here, with you.”
The ship broke through the atmosphere with a shudder that she felt in her bones, and through the small viewport in the cargo hold door, she could see stars beginning to appear—thousands of them, millions, stretching out into infinity.
They were free.
For the first time since she’d woken up in that cell, she truly believed it.
Robbie opened his eyes and looked up at her, and she could have sworn he smiled.
“We made it, baby,” she whispered to him. “We’re going to be okay.”
Becsul’s arm tightened around her, and his tail curled possessively around her thigh.
Family, she thought. This is what family feels like.
Behind her, she heard Sarah crying softly—relief, exhaustion, hope all mixed together. Heard Wei-Lin murmuring reassurances to Katie, her usual sharp edges softened by tenderness. They were all strangers, really. Women thrown together by circumstance, united by survival.
But they were something more now, too. Something forged in darkness and desperation and the stubborn refusal to surrender.
Found family, she thought, remembering a term from her psychology courses back on Earth. We found each other.
And maybe that was enough.
The ship jumped to hyperspace, the stars stretching into lines of light, and she closed her eyes against Becsul’s chest.
For the first time in months, she slept without nightmares.