“And if they’re not casual scans?”
“Then we will deal with that situation when it arises.” His tail reached back to brush against her ankle. “Trust me, s’kara. I will not let them take you or the children.”
The docking clamps released with a metallic clunk that echoed through the small vessel. Warning lights flashed as the bay doors began their slow cycle, opening to reveal the vast darkness of space beyond. Stars glittered like scattered diamonds against an infinite black canvas.
Selik’s hands moved over the controls with confident precision, guiding the flyer out of its berth and through the opening. The Patrol ship fell away behind them, growing smaller with each passing second until it was just another point of light among millions.
She watched it disappear and felt a pang of regret. Despite the fear and uncertainty, despite the constant threat of discovery, she’d started to think of the ship as home. The crew had been kind, Dr. Bombaya had treated Mikoz with gentle expertise, and for a brief moment, she’d allowed herself to imagine a future where they could stay.
But that future had been an illusion. The Council’s interference would have shattered it eventually. Better to leave on their own terms, to choose their path rather than have it dictated by politicians and bureaucrats who saw Mikoz as a resource to be managed rather than a child to be loved.
“Are you all right?” Selik asked, his voice pitched low enough that Anya wouldn’t hear.
“Just saying goodbye.” She shifted Mikoz in the sling, feeling the solid weight of him against her chest. “I’ll miss some of the crew. They were good to us.”
“They were. And perhaps one day, when the situation has stabilized, we can return for a visit.” He paused. “But for now, we move forward. Toward Tillich Two and the life we will build there.”
“Forward,” she agreed, and felt some of the tension ease from her shoulders. Whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them as a family.
The flyer accelerated smoothly, putting distance between them and the Patrol ship. Selik engaged the stealth systems, and the cockpit displays shifted to show their sensor signature dropping to nearly nothing. To anyone scanning this sector, they would appear as nothing more than cosmic debris or a minor spatial anomaly.
She allowed herself to relax a little. The first hurdle was cleared. They’d escaped the ship without being detected, and now they had a head start on anyone who might come looking.
Anya leaned forward in her seat. “How long until we reach Tillich Two?”
“Six days at current speed,” Selik replied. “Possibly seven depending on traffic patterns near the jump gates.”
“And then what? Do we just land and pretend to be normal settlers?”
“Essentially, yes. I have sufficient credits to purchase property and establish a legitimate business. We will blend into the local population and avoid drawing attention to ourselves.”
“What kind of business?” she asked, curious despite herself.
“I have not yet decided. Perhaps something related to transport or security. My skills are well suited to protecting others.” His tail curled thoughtfully. “What would you prefer?”
The question caught her off guard. She’d spent so long focused on immediate survival that she hadn’t considered what kind of life she might want once they were settled.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I was a professor before the abduction. I taught literature and linguistics to undergraduates who mostly didn’t care about either subject.”
“You enjoyed it despite their disinterest.”
“I did.” She’d loved the rare moments when a student’s eyes lit up with genuine understanding, when they connected with a text on an emotional level and saw how it reflected their own experiences. “But I’m not sure there’s much demand for human literature professors on an alien colony world.”
“Perhaps not formally. But education is always valuable, and there are likely children on Tillich Two who would benefit from proper schooling.”
The idea took root in her mind, growing from vague possibility to tentative plan. She could teach. Not in a formal university setting, but in a small community school where she could make a real difference. Where she could help children who’d been displaced or traumatized find solace in stories and language.
“I like that,” she said. “Though I’ll need to learn about the local culture and customs first. Can’t very well teach humanities without understanding the context.”
“We will learn together.” Selik’s expression softened. “And perhaps, when Mikoz is older, he can attend your classes and learn about both his Cire heritage and the human worlds he has been part of.”
“He’ll be brilliant,” Anya interjected. “He’s already so smart for his age. Did you see how he figured out how to open the toy box yesterday? He’s like a tiny genius.”
She smiled at her stepdaughter’s enthusiasm. “He is pretty amazing.”
They fell into comfortable conversation, discussing possibilities and making tentative plans for their new life. Selik described Tillich Two based on Tarak’s information—a world of shallow seas and scattered island continents, with a climate that ranged from tropical to temperate depending on latitude. The population was small but well established, consisting mostly of natives, plus the traders and entrepreneurs who’d chosen to settle away from the crowded inner systems.
“It sounds beautiful,” she said wistfully. “I’ve always loved the ocean. I used to go to Cape Cod when I was a child, and I spent hours walking along the beach collecting shells and watching the waves.”
