“How?”
“The longer you remain on the ship, the more chance that someone will find out about him.”
He nodded thoughtfully. He trusted his crew, but people liked to talk and rumors ran rampant on any ship. “I need options.”
“For what?”
“A place to stay. Somewhere safe, somewhere quiet. Somewhere I can keep them protected without drawing unwanted attention.”
Tarak’s expression shifted, surprise and understanding warring across his features. “You’re serious about this.”
“Yes.”
“About all of them? The infant, the child, the female?”
“Yes.”
His second studied him for a long moment, the silence stretching between them like a physical thing. Finally, Tarak spoke.
“I’ll look into options,” Tarak said. “Quiet worlds, colonies that need protection, settlements far from Council oversight. Places where a retired warrior could build a life without attracting unwanted attention.”
“I haven’t retired yet.”
Tarak’s tail flicked with amusement. “Not yet. But something tells me your priorities are shifting.”
They were. Had been since the moment he’d found Corinne on that barren planet, since he’d held Mikoz and felt something long-dormant wake in his chest. Since he’d kissed her and tasted hope for the first time in twenty years.
“Find me those options,” he said. “Quickly.”
“Already on it. I have contacts in the outer colonies, places that value privacy over paperwork.” Tarak headed for the door, then paused. “One more thing.”
“Yes?”
“The child. Anya.” His second’s expression turned thoughtful. “She’s clever. Observant. She’ll see through any deception or half-truth you offer.”
“I wasn’t planning to deceive her.”
“Good. Because she’ll be the hardest one to win over.” Tarak smiled slightly. “It is clear the older female already likes you. Mikoz is too young to know better. But Anya… she will test you to decide if you’re worthy of her family.”
“Her family.”
“She’s human. Young. Traumatized. She needs to know the people caring for her won’t disappear or abandon her.” Tarak’s gaze turned serious. “Prove to her that you’re staying and that she can count on you. Win her trust, and the rest will follow.”
The door closed behind him, leaving him alone with his thoughts and a growing sense of purpose.
He had a mission now. Not the Patrol duties that had filled his days for twenty years, but something infinitely more important. He needed to build a life that could accommodate two humans and one Cire infant. He needed to find a place safe enough, remote enough, secure enough to protect them from whatever corruption festered in the Council. And he needed to prove to Anya that he was worth trusting, to Corinne that he was worth choosing, to Mikoz that he could be the father the infant deserved.
The first step was to make their current quarters more livable.
He stood and headed for the storage bay, mentally cataloging what he’d need. The makeshift nest of blankets worked for now, but Mikoz deserved a proper sleeping space. Something secure, something comfortable, something that said “you belong here.”
Something he could build with his own hands.
The storage bay yielded better supplies than he expected—remnants from previous missions, salvaged materials fromderelict ships, and components that hadn’t fit the manifest. He selected pieces carefully, mentally assembling the structure as he gathered them. Strong support bars. Soft mesh panels for the sides so the infant could see out but wouldn’t fall. A base that could be secured to the floor for stability during any turbulence.
He loaded the materials onto a transport cart and conveyed them back to the sleeping chamber in his quarters. To his surprise, Anya followed him into the sleeping chamber, her expression wary but curious. She’d changed from the oversized clothing Corinne had found for her into something that fit better—probably from the ship’s general supplies. The pants were still too long, rolled at the ankles, and the shirt hung loose on her thin frame. But her hair was brushed, her face clean, and she looked significantly more alert than she had yesterday.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
