Corinne smiled and shook her head. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing. We’ll have to childproof once we reach Tillich Two. He’s going to be into everything.”
“I will construct appropriate barriers. And perhaps some toys that encourage his development. Cire children benefit from puzzles and strategy games.”
“He’s ten months old.”
“Which means he is ready to begin learning.” At her amused expression, he added, “Simple puzzles only. Age-appropriate.”
“Uh huh. And I suppose you’ll be teaching him advanced mathematics by his first birthday?”
“If he shows aptitude, why not?”
She shook her head with fond exasperation. “You’re going to be that parent, aren’t you? The one who has their kid reading at two and doing calculus at five.”
“I was reading at two.”
“Of course you were.” She stood and passed Mikoz to him. “Here. Bond with your genius child while I make something resembling dinner from our limited supplies.”
He settled the infant against his chest, feeling the now-familiar weight of him. Mikoz chirped and grabbed for his face.
“Gentle,” he murmured, the same word Corinne used. “We have discussed this.”
Another chirp, softer this time.
Anya appeared beside them. “Can I hold him?”
“Of course.”
“Hey, little guy.” Anya bounced him gently. “Guess what? Selik says you’ll be running everywhere and getting into trouble soon and we’ll all have to chase after you.”
Mikoz grabbed her hair.
“No, no, no. Not the hair.” She carefully extracted his hand. “We’ve been over this. Hair is attached to heads and pulling it hurts.”
“He does not understand yet,” he said. “At this age, grabbing is instinctive. He will learn gentleness as he matures.”
“How long does that take? Because I’d like my hair to survive until then.”
“A few months perhaps.”
“Great. I’ll just be bald by then.” But she was smiling as she said it, her affection for the infant clear despite her grumbling.
He returned to the cockpit and pulled up the navigation display one more time—he couldn’t help himself. The route still looked solid. No obvious weaknesses, no points where they’d be forced into predictable patterns. They’d reach the first jump gate in six hours, transit through during a busy period when dozens of ships would be moving through simultaneously, and emerge in a heavily trafficked corridor where one small flyer would be invisible among the commercial vessels.
After that, it was just a matter of staying alert and maintaining their cover until they reached Tillich Two.
“Dinner’s ready,” Corinne called. “Such as it is.”
He joined them in the small common area, where she’d laid out their meal on a storage crate serving as a makeshift table. The ration packs were standard military fare—nutritionally complete and almost completely tasteless—but she’d done something to make them more palatable.
“What did you add?” He sniffed cautiously at his portion.
“Spices from the emergency supplies. And I found some dried vegetables that hadn’t completely turned to dust.” She sat cross-legged on the floor, balancing her plate on her knees. “It’s not exactly gourmet, but it’s better than eating compressed protein bars for six days.”
He took a bite and had to agree. The subtle flavors made the bland rations almost enjoyable. “This is good.”
“Don’t sound so surprised. I told you I could cook.”
Anya poked at her food suspiciously. “What’s in this exactly?”
