Outside, she released a huge sigh of relief.
“I thought they’d ask more questions.”
“Why would they?” He pulled up a map on his datapad. “Like most worlds, they lost people to the Red Death. They do not care about our pasts as long as we contribute to the economy and do not cause trouble.”
“But what if someone recognizes you? You were a Patrol Commander. That’s not exactly anonymous.”
“I served in deep space, far from established trade routes. The likelihood of encountering anyone who knows my face is minimal.” He studied the map with a frown. “And if we do encounter such a person, we will deal with it at that time. Worrying about possibilities we cannot control only wastes energy better spent on preparation.”
The fact that he was right did nothing to help her anxiety.
Anya tugged on her sleeve. “I’m hungry. Can we find food before we start looking for a place to stay?”
Mikoz chose that moment to voice his agreement with a demanding chirp.
“Food first,” Selik agreed. “Then housing.”
The market district sprawled along the waterfront, a maze of stalls and permanent shops selling everything from fresh fish to clothing to what looked like alien technology she couldn’t begin to identify. The air smelled of cooking spices and salt water and something sweet that made her stomach growl.
They found a food vendor selling grilled seafood and vegetables on skewers. Selik ordered for all of them, adding a quiet comment that made the vendor—a stocky female with burnished copper skin—laugh and give them larger portions.
“First time on Tillich Two?” The female handed over the skewers wrapped in something that resembled waxed paper.
“Newly arrived,” Selik confirmed. “We are looking to establish a fishing operation.”
“Good luck with that. Waters are profitable if you know what you’re doing, but they’ll kill you fast if you don’t respect them.” She nodded toward the ocean. “Tides here run twenty feetbecause of the moons. Miss your window and you’ll be stranded until the next cycle.”
“Noted. Any recommendations for housing near the water?”
“Try the south shore. The rents are cheaper and the locals are friendlier.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “Between you and me, avoid the north district unless you like your neighbors asking too many questions.”
Selik pressed a few extra credits into her palm. “Your advice is appreciated.”
They ate their food on a low wall overlooking the water, watching the sun sink below the horizon. The skewers were delicious—firm white fish with a slightly sweet flavor, vegetables she didn’t recognize but tasted like a cross between peppers and mushrooms, all glazed with something tangy and complex.
Anya demolished hers in record time. “Can we get more?”
“Tomorrow.” She wiped grease from her fingers with the waxed paper. “We need to find somewhere to sleep tonight.”
“I could eat like six more of these.”
“You’re a bottomless pit.”
“I’m a growing teenager. It’s science.”
Mikoz fussed against her chest, and she realized he needed changing. Again. The joys of parenthood apparently transcended species.
Selik took him without being asked, disappearing into a public facility and returning a few minutes later with a clean, happy infant who immediately tried to grab the nearest reflective surface.
“He saw himself in the mirror,” Selik explained. “He appeared to believe it was another infant. He tried to chirp at his reflection for several minutes before accepting it was only him.”
She laughed despite her exhaustion. “Did you get that on video?”
“Of course.”
The south shore district turned out to be a collection of small houses and apartment buildings built on stilts above the tide line. Wooden walkways connected the structures, and the sound of water lapping against support posts created a constant gentle rhythm.
Selik found them a rental through a property management company run by a cheerful Tillichi female who didn’t even blink at their mixed-species family. She showed them three options—a cramped apartment above a fish processing facility, a slightly larger unit with no kitchen, and a small standalone house at the end of one of the walkways.
