Chapter 24 #2
“This is not over,” he said again, but there was less certainty in his voice now. “I will fight these charges. I will appeal to the Council. I will—”
“You will do whatever you feel is necessary.” Captain Veyros cut in smoothly. “In the meantime, I would strongly advise against leaving Cire space. The warrants being prepared will make interstellar travel… complicated for you.”
The holoscreen went dark without another word, Naran’s image dissolving into static and then nothing.
Melissa released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Her legs felt weak, and she swayed slightly before Becsul’s arm came around her waist, steadying her.
“That was well done,” he murmured against her hair.
“I feel like I’m going to throw up.”
“Also understandable.”
Captain Veyros approached them, her expression thoughtful. “Dr. Desai, Captain Becsul—if you would join me in my office? There are matters we should discuss now that the immediate confrontation is concluded.”
They followed her through a maze of corridors, Melissa’s mind still spinning from the encounter. She had faced down a monster—a calm, rational, utterly convinced monster—and she had not flinched. She had not backed down. She had met his threats with threats of her own and refused to be cowed.
Is this what surviving feels like? she wondered. This strange mixture of triumph and terror?
Veyros’s office was smaller than Melissa expected, cluttered with datapads and holographic displays showing various case files. The captain cleared a chair for Melissa to sit, then settled behind her desk with the air of someone preparing for a difficult conversation.
“I want to be frank with you both about the realities of this situation.”
“Please.” Melissa shifted Robbie to a more comfortable position.
“The Galactic Patrol has jurisdiction over certain categories of crime—trafficking, as I mentioned, and violations involving pre-spaceflight species. However, we do not generally interfere in the internal affairs of member planets unless those affairs spill over into galactic space.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that while formal charges will be filed against Councilor Naran and his co-conspirators, the practical enforcement of those charges is… limited.” Veyros spread her hands.
“We cannot arrest a sitting Councilor on his own planet. We cannot compel the Cire government to hand him over for prosecution. What we can do is ensure that if he ever leaves Cire space, he will be detained and tried.”
“So he gets away with it.” Melissa’s voice was flat. “He kidnapped us, imprisoned us, and he just… walks free?”
“On Ciresia, for the moment, yes.” Veyros’s expression was sympathetic but firm.
“However, the charges will remain active indefinitely. His travel will be restricted. His communications will be monitored. And—perhaps most importantly—we will be watching for any future attempts to acquire additional subjects.”
“His suppliers,” Becsul said. “The Vedeckians who captured Melissa and the others.”
“Are being dealt with separately. Several have already been apprehended, and their operations are being dismantled.” Veyros pulled up a holographic display showing a network of connected nodes—names, locations, transaction records.
“The trafficking ring that brought Dr. Desai and the others to Ciresia has been operating for some time, supplying various clients throughout the sector. Councilor Naran was a significant buyer, but not the only one.”
Melissa stared at the display, her stomach churning. All those nodes. All those connections. How many other women, other children, had passed through this network? How many were still out there, trapped in situations like the one she had escaped?
“What happens to the others?” she asked quietly. “The ones we don’t know about?”
“We find them when we can. We rescue them when possible.” Veyros’s voice softened. “It is imperfect, Dr. Desai. The galaxy is vast, and there are always those who exploit the weak and vulnerable. But we try. We keep trying.”
“That’s not enough.”
“No. It rarely is.” The captain met her eyes steadily. “But it is what we have. And sometimes, it makes a difference. Your testimony, your courage in coming forward—it will help us shut down operations, rescue victims, prevent future suffering. That matters.”
She looked down at Robbie, at his small, perfect face relaxed in sleep. He had no idea what had happened, what dangers they had faced, what uncertain future lay ahead. He trusted her completely to keep him safe.
I did keep him safe, she realized. Against impossible odds, I kept him safe.
It wasn’t justice. Not really. Naran would remain on Ciresia, surrounded by his luxury and his power, never facing the full consequences of what he had done.
But he would be watching his back for the rest of his life.
He would know that the Patrol was watching, waiting for him to make a mistake. He would never feel truly secure again.
And his plans—the expanded breeding program, the additional victims he had intended to purchase—those plans were dead. Other women would not suffer as she had suffered. Other children would not be born into captivity.
That had to count for something.
“I can live with that,” she said finally. “It’s not what I wanted, but I can live with it.”
Becsul’s hand found hers again, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her palm. “What happens now? For us?”
“That depends on what you want.” Veyros closed the holographic display. “The charges against you, Captain Becsul, will be dismissed. You were acting to prevent ongoing crimes, and the evidence clearly supports that. You are free to go wherever you wish.”
“And the women? Sarah and Wei-Lin?”
“Also free. They will need to decide whether they wish to return to Earth or remain in galactic space. The Patrol can arrange transport in either direction.”
Melissa thought of Sarah’s face when she had first held Katie after the escape—the fierce, protective love that mirrored her own feelings for Robbie. She thought of Wei-Lin’s quiet competence, her watchful eyes always assessing threats and opportunities.
We survived together, she thought. Whatever comes next, that bond will remain.
“I don’t want to go back to Earth,” she said. “I don’t know about the others, but… there’s nothing for me there anymore. My career is gone. My family…” She paused, swallowing past a sudden tightness in her throat. “My family wasn’t really family. Not like this.”
She glanced at Becsul, at the steady warmth in his dark eyes, at the protective curve of his tail against her leg.
“This is my family now. This is my future.”
“Then we will find that future together.” Becsul’s voice was rough with emotion. “Wherever it leads.”
Veyros watched them with an expression that might have been approval. “If you need time to decide your next steps, you are welcome to remain on the station. We have quarters available for temporary residents.”
“Thank you.” Melissa rose, her legs steadier now. “I think we need to talk to the others. Figure out what everyone wants.”
“Of course. Take all the time you need.”
They left the office together, walking through the sterile corridors of Korinth-7, and Melissa felt something shift inside her.
The weight she had been carrying since her kidnapping—the fear, the helplessness, the constant uncertainty—didn’t disappear entirely.
It probably never would. But it loosened, somehow. Became more bearable.
We are not victims anymore, she thought. We are survivors. And survivors get to choose what comes next.
Robbie stirred in her arms, his eyes opening to blink at her with sleepy confusion. She pressed a kiss to his forehead, breathing in the sweet, milky scent of him.
“We’re going to be okay,” she whispered. “I promise, little one. We’re going to be okay.”
And for the first time since this nightmare began, she actually believed it.