The house was perfect.
Two bedrooms, a modest kitchen, a living area with windows that overlooked the water, and a tiny bathroom with actual running water. The furniture was basic but functional—beds with real mattresses, a table with chairs, storage units built into the walls.
“We’ll take it,” she said before Selik could even ask about the price.
The female’s eyes brightened. “Excellent choice. The previous tenants were a young couple who relocated to one of the inner systems. They left the place in good condition.” She pulled up acontract on her datapad. “First month’s rent plus deposit, and you’re responsible for utilities and basic maintenance.”
Selik transferred the credits without hesitation, and she tried not to think about how quickly their limited funds were disappearing. She’d have to find work, and soon. Her teaching credentials were useless here, but surely there was something she could do.
The property manager handed over access codes and a welcome basket. “Anything else you need, just call. We pride ourselves on customer satisfaction.”
After she left, she stood in the middle of their new living room and tried to process what had just happened. They had a home. An actual home with walls and doors and windows that looked out on an alien ocean.
“This is real,” she said softly.
“It is real.” Selik set Mikoz down on the floor and the infant immediately toddled toward the nearest window, chirping with excitement at the view. “This is ours.”
Anya explored the bedrooms and returned with a grin. “I call the room at the back overlooking the garden. You two can have the bigger one at the front.”
Her heart skipped a beat. They’d never actually shared a bedroom before, despite their stolen moments on the ship. She glanced at Selik, who smiled at her, his eyes warm with anticipation. “I suppose that means Mikoz is with us. I will need to start on a bed for him.”
“We’ll figure it out,” she said. “Right now I just want to sleep on something that isn’t vibrating from engine noise.”
They found basic supplies in the welcome basket—sheets for the beds, towels, even a few toiletries—along with information about local services. She made up the beds while Selik did a security check of the house, testing locks and examining the structural integrity of the support posts.
“Paranoid much?” Anya asked as he inspected the window latches.
“Cautious. There is a difference.”
“Uh huh. And I’m sure you’re not at all worried about the Council sending agents to drag us back.”
His tail went still—always a bad sign.
“I am taking reasonable precautions,” he said evenly. “If that bothers you, I apologize.”
“It doesn’t bother me. I just think you should maybe relax a little.” She flopped onto the couch. “We made it. We’re here. We’re safe.”
“For now.”
She intervened before the conversation could deteriorate. “How about we all get some sleep and worry about security in the morning? We’ve been traveling for six days and I’m pretty sure we all need actual rest.”
Anya yawned hugely, as if on cue. “Fine. But tomorrow I want to explore. I saw shops on the way here that looked interesting and I want to check them out.”
“Tomorrow,” she agreed. “After we’ve had actual food and figured out what we’re doing for income.”
She settled Mikoz in the larger bedroom, creating a nest of blankets in a large drawer until Selik could build an actual crib. He immediately protested being put down, his chirps escalating to full cries that made her want to cry herself.
“Shh, baby. I know it’s new and scary, but you need to sleep.” She patted his back. “We’re safe here. I promise.”
Selik appeared in the doorway. “May I?”
She handed him the fussy infant, and he held him against his chest, humming something low and rhythmic. Mikoz’s cries subsided to whimpers, then soft chirps, then nothing at all as sleep finally claimed him.
“You’re magic,” she whispered.
“I am practiced.” He laid Mikoz down carefully, adjusting the blankets. “My daughter required similar soothing when she was young.”
The grief in his voice made her heart ache. Hearing him speak about the practical, everyday details of parenting always made his loss seem more real somehow.
