“You are correct,” he said. “Words are insufficient. Judge me by my actions instead.”
Anya’s mouth tightened. She didn’t trust him, but he suspected she was also smart enough to know they had no alternatives.
“Fine.” She pushed to her feet, swaying slightly, and Corinne reached out to steady her. “But if you try anything, I’ll fight you.”
“Of course,” he said solemnly. “My shuttle is a short walk from here. Can you manage?”
“We’ve been managing.” Corinne’s voice shook with exhaustion, but she settled the infant into a makeshift sling across her chest. “Lead the way.”
The walk back took twice as long as it had taken him to find them. He matched his pace to theirs, uncomfortably aware of every stumble, every labored breath. Anya leaned heavily on Corinne’s free arm, her eyes fever bright and her cheeks flushed. How long had she been ill?
Corinne kept her head up and her spine straight, but he could see the tremors in her legs. She was exhausted, running on nothing but determination and fear, even though she was doing her best to support the girl. He closed the distance between them and scooped the girl into his arms. She immediately began to struggle.
“Put me down!”
“You are ill and exhausted,” he said calmly, keeping his grip gentle. She weighed almost nothing in his arms. “Save your strength.”
“I can walk,” she said defiantly.
“You can. But you do not need to.”
Anya glared at him, furious and helpless, but she stopped struggling. She was smart enough to conserve her energy even while hating him for the assistance. When she relaxed a tiny fraction, he resumed walking. Corinne looked up at him and mouthed a silent thank you.
Anya’s head drooped against his shoulder, and within moments her breathing had evened into the rhythm of sleep. Her trust humbled him more than her suspicion had.
The shuttle sat where he’d left it, small and dark against the dusty ground. Not a Patrol vessel but his personal craft—one of the privileges of command. He’d taken it on impulse when Varna had reported the escaped shuttle, but now he was glad for the choice. It was more comfortable and better-equipped for his delicate passengers.
He activated the hatch and the ramp descended, interior lights casting a warm glow across the barren landscape. Corinne took a step towards it, then halted, her arms tightening around the infant.
“I promise you,” he said quietly. “No harm will come to any of you while you are under my protection.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“I suspect you have no reason to trust anyone. But you are out of options and I am offering help. Sometimes that is all we have.”
She stared at him for a long moment. Then she looked down at the infant in her arms, at the girl sleeping against his chest, and back up at him.
“If you betray us, I will find a way to make you regret it.”
The threat should have been laughable. She was barely half his size, unarmed, and on the verge of collapse. But he believed this small, soft female would find a way to hurt him if he broke his word. The thought shouldn’t have pleased him as much as it did.
“I understand.”
She climbed the ramp, moving slowly but steadily, and he followed, the girl’s weight nothing in his arms. The hatch sealed behind them with a soft hiss. He settled Anya on one of the padded benches, arranging her carefully. She didn’t wake, and he gave her a worried frown. Fever sleep, deep and unhealthy. She needed medical attention soon.
Corinne still stood in the middle of the cabin, the child clutched in her arms.
“There is a sanitary unit through there.” He pointed to the small door on the left. “And there is a food synthesizer in the galley compartment.”
“Thank you.” She hadn’t moved, and he realized she was waiting for him to leave. To give her space and privacy and the illusion of control.
“I will be in the cockpit preparing for departure. Call me if you need anything.” He moved toward the front of the shuttle, then paused. “What is the child’s name?”
Her arms tightened fractionally. “Mikoz.”
A traditional Cire name. Someone had known what they were doing when they’d named him. But that was a question for later.
“Rest, Corinne,” he said gently. “We will reach the Patrol ship within the hour.”
