He left her there, still standing, still clutching the impossible child to her chest.
He settled into the pilot’s seat in the small cockpit and began the preflight sequence, checking to make sure each system was functioning normally. He adjusted the climate control to provide additional heat for his passengers. But despite the familiar motions, his mind raced.
How had a Cire infant ended up on a Vedeckian slave ship? This child was less than a year old which meant somewhere, somehow, a Cire female had not only survived, but conceived and given birth. And then what had happened to her? Had she been sold into slavery as well? The possibility sent anger surging through his system.
Behind him, he heard water running, and then Corinne speaking softly to the child. Mikoz. Mikoz was a miracle and a mystery, and he had no idea what to do with the fierce protective surge that wouldn’t let go. The child was not his—would never be his. Lira had been his daughter, and losing her had nearly destroyed him.
He would not—could not—allow himself to care like that again.
The engines hummed to life. The shuttle lifted smoothly into the air, leaving the barren planet behind. Through the viewscreen, he could see the stars emerging as they climbed through the atmosphere. Beautiful and cold and infinitely distant, like everything else in his life for the past twenty years.
The journey to the patrol ship would take fifty-three minutes. He would spend them checking systems that didn’t need checking, running diagnostics that didn’t need to be run. Anything to avoid going back to the cabin. To avoid seeing Corinne with the impossible child in her arms. To avoid feeling things he’d buried with his family.
CHAPTER THREE
Corinne stood staring after Selik as he disappeared into the cockpit.
Safe. We’re safe. He said we’re safe.
She wanted to believe him, had wanted to believe him since the first moment she’d met his eyes up on the ridge. An odd sense of rightness, of connection, had snapped into place, even though it made no sense.He’s an alien, she reminded herself. A huge, reptilian alien who could take the child in her arms away from her. Who might have more right to Mikoz than she did.
No, she thought fiercely. She’d loved Mikoz from the moment the Vedeckians had shoved a collapsing Cire female and a wailing infant into the cell with them and ordered her to care for him. Amalia had already been almost too weak to speak, but she’d managed to walk her through preparing the formula. They’d had to feed him together at first, until he learned her scent, until he looked up at her with those big dark eyes and cooed, wrapping his tail around her wrist as he nursed.
Amalia had managed to smile, despite the tears in her eyes, but it was as if the knowledge that Corinne would care for Mikoz had released her. She’d died less than twenty-four hours later, the Vedeckians removing her body with a casual contempt that had chilled Corinne’s blood.
“I’ll protect you,” she whispered to the sleeping infant. “No matter what.”
The engines hummed to life with a vibration she felt through the deck plating. Her arms tightened around Mikoz, but he didn’t wake as the shuttle lifted smoothly into the air. Selik clearly knew what he was doing. She forced herself to move, her entire body screaming in protest, and cautiously approached the small door Selik had indicated.
The sanitary unit was clean and surprisingly spacious, much larger than the similar unit on the Vedeckian ship. She stepped into the shower unit, still fully clothed and keeping Mikoz in his makeshift sling even under the warm spray. He woke up, kicking his legs happily and enjoying the water against his textured skin. Dirt and dried blood swirled down the drain, days of filth washing away.
She wished fear could wash away as easily.
The hot air dryer worked swiftly and efficiently. When it was done, her clothes were clean and dry, although still torn and stained. When she looked at herself in the mirror, she looked gaunt and haunted, ten years older than her thirty-eight years.
Anya was still asleep when she returned to the main cabin. She found what appeared to be a thermal blanket and covered her with it, her heart aching. Her stepdaughter looked so small and helpless, the fever flush replaced by an unhealthy pallor, butwhen she pressed the back of her hand to the girl’s forehead, she could still feel the heat radiating from her skin.
Please let them have medicine on the ship. Please.
Mikoz squirmed against her chest, making small hungry sounds as his patience finally faded. She mixed warm water and a careful amount of the nutrient powder, sighing with relief when he suckled greedily. Hopefully the Patrol ship would have more of that as well. His small body relaxed as he fed, his tail patting her chest before settling into its usual place around her wrist. Not hers biologically, but hers in every way that mattered.
Her eyes drifted towards the closed door to the cockpit, half-expecting Selik to reappear. Half-wanting him to join her. As illogical as it might be, there was something reassuring about that big, powerful body. Mikoz finished nursing and started to doze off, and her eyes began to close as well. She knew she needed to stay alert and be ready to protect the children, but exhaustion pulled at her like gravity, impossible to resist.
She jerked awake to find Selik standing in the doorway between the cockpit and the cabin. Had she dozed off? For how long?
“We will dock with theRelentlessin approximately twenty minutes.” His voice was quiet, probably trying not to wake Anya. “Is there anything you require?”
Yes. A time machine. Her old life back. For none of this to have ever happened.
“I’m fine.”
“You are not fine, although I understand the sentiment.” He moved into the cabin, his massive body making the space feel smaller. “There is food in the galley synthesizer. You should eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“When did you last have a full meal?” he asked skeptically, and she tried to think.
The Vedeckians had fed them twice a day—basic monotonous food but edible. She hadn’t eaten since the crash.
