The ship jumped to hyperspace, the stars stretching into lines of light, and she closed her eyes against Becsul’s chest.
For the first time in months, she slept without nightmares.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Robbie’s weight against his chest was the most natural thing in the universe.
Becsul shifted slightly, adjusting his position against the cargo crates to better support the sleeping infant. The child had fussed briefly when they’d first boarded the Celestine’s Mercy, disturbed by the cold and the unfamiliar vibrations of the ship’s engines, but he’d calmed almost immediately when Becsul had offered to hold him. Now he slept deeply, one tiny fist curled against Becsul’s uniform, his breathing slow and even.
Mine, something primal whispered in Becsul’s mind. My son.
Not by blood, perhaps. But by choice. By bond. By every measure that actually mattered.
Across the cargo hold, Melissa stirred from her own rest, pushing herself upright with a soft groan. She looked exhausted—dark circles under her eyes, her hair escaping from its braid in wild tangles—but there was a peace in her expression that he hadn’t seen since the day they’d met. The peace of safety, finally achieved.
“How long was I out?” Her voice was rough with sleep.
“Three hours, perhaps four.” Becsul kept his voice low, mindful of the other sleeping occupants of the hold. Sarah and Katie were curled together beneath a thermal blanket, the child’s head tucked under her mother’s chin. Wei-Lin sat apart from the group, her back against the far wall, eyes closed but posture alert. Not truly sleeping, he suspected. Soldiers rarely did in unfamiliar territory.
Melissa’s gaze found Robbie, and her expression softened into something that made Becsul’s hearts ache. “He’s comfortable with you.”
“He always has been.” Becsul stroked one careful claw down the infant’s back, marveling at the smallness of him. So fragile. So precious. “From the first moment I held him.”
“I remember.” She moved closer, settling beside him with her shoulder pressed against his arm. “I thought you were going to hurt us. Instead, you held my crying baby and he… just stopped.”
“He knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That I would never harm him. That I would protect him with my life.” Becsul met her eyes. “Perhaps infants can sense these things. The intentions of those around them.”
“Maybe.” She leaned her head against his shoulder, and his tail immediately curved around her waist, drawing her closer. “Or maybe he just liked being held by someone who wasn’t terrified.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a long moment, the hum of the ship’s engines a constant backdrop. Through the small viewport, hyperspace painted the universe in streaks of light—beautiful and alien, a reminder of how far they’d come from everything Becsul had ever known.
“Where are we going?”
The question was quiet, but it carried weight. Becsul had been expecting it.
“There’s a Patrol station at the edge of this sector. Waypoint Seven.” He shifted slightly, careful not to disturb Robbie. “It’s a joint operation—multiple species maintaining order in the transit lanes. They have protocols for situations like this.”
“Situations like this,” Melissa repeated flatly. “You mean kidnapping? Forced breeding experiments? Interplanetary trafficking?”
“All of those things.” He heard the bitterness in his own voice and didn’t try to hide it. “The Galactic Patrol takes crimes against sentients seriously. They have the authority to investigate, to prosecute, to ensure that Naran faces consequences for what he’s done.”
“And us? What happens to us?”
“I don’t know exactly. They’ll take statements. Document everything. There will likely be medical examinations to ensure you’re all healthy.” He paused. “I’ve already sent a preliminary report through the ship’s communication system. Captain Trevan helped me encrypt it. By the time we arrive, they’ll have basic information about what happened.”
Melissa was quiet for a moment. “And after that?”
“After that…” He trailed off, because the truth was, he didn’t know. He’d been so focused on getting them off the planet, onescaping Naran’s reach, that he hadn’t allowed himself to think much beyond the immediate crisis. “We’ll figure it out together.”
“Together.” She smiled faintly. “I like the sound of that.”
Before he could respond, a door at the far end of the cargo hold slid open. Captain Trevan ducked through the opening—a massive Cire male with skin the texture of weathered stone and a cybernetic eye that glowed faintly orange in the dim light. He’d been a freighter captain for thirty years, he’d told Becsul, running legitimate cargo through a dozen sectors. He owed Varn his ship after she’d cleared his name in a smuggling investigation, and he’d been happy to repay that debt.
“Captain Becsul.” Trevan’s voice was a deep rumble. “We’re making good time. Should reach Waypoint Seven in approximately six hours.”
