Well. Normal-adjacent, anyway. Normal for a cargo ship crewed by aliens and carrying a handful of escaped human prisoners through hyperspace towards a galactic police station.
My life has gotten very strange, she thought, watching Koss produce a length of shimmering fabric from somewhere and wave it like a flag for Robbie’s entertainment. And somehow, impossibly, I’m okay with that.
The galley was small but functional—a cooking station along one wall, a table bolted to the floor with benches on either side, storage cabinets that hummed faintly with refrigeration. Nothing like the sterile efficiency of the facility’s food dispensers. This was a kitchen, with all the warmth that implied.
“Melissa?”
She turned to find Sarah emerging from the corridor, Katie trailing behind her with a sleepy expression. The little girl had been having nightmares—hardly surprising, given everything she’d been through—and Sarah looked exhausted. But there was color in her cheeks that hadn’t been there before, and she moved without the hunched wariness that had defined her posture in the facility.
“Morning. There’s tea in the pot, if you want some.”
“God, yes.” Sarah made a beeline for the cooking station, pouring herself a cup of the fragrant amber liquid that Trevan had introduced them to. It wasn’t quite tea—the leaves came from a plant that grew on some moon Melissa had never heardof—but it was close enough to be comforting. “Katie, sweetheart, do you want some breakfast?”
Katie nodded, but her attention was on Robbie and Koss. “Can I play too?”
“Of course you can, little one.” Koss scooted over to make room. “I was just teaching young Robert here about the ancient Threlian art of face-comedy. Your assistance would be invaluable.”
Katie giggled and dropped to the floor beside Robbie, immediately launching into her own repertoire of silly faces. Robbie shrieked with joy, reaching for her with grabby hands, and something warm settled in Melissa’s chest at the sight.
He has a friend, she thought. His first friend.
“Where’s Wei-Lin?” Sarah asked, settling onto the bench across from Melissa with her tea.
“Morning workout with Trevan. Apparently she convinced him to show her some Cire combat forms.”
“Of course she did.” Sarah shook her head with a tired smile. “That woman is terrifying.”
“That woman kept us all alive during the escape.” Melissa remembered the way Wei-Lin had moved through the smoke-filled corridors—efficient, deadly, utterly calm. She’d been a soldier before her abduction, she’d told them. Special forces of some kind. She didn’t elaborate, and no one pressed. “I’m glad she’s on our side.”
“So am I.” Sarah sipped her tea, watching the children play. “This is… strange, isn’t it? Being safe. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
“Me too.” Melissa had woken twice in the night, heart pounding, certain she’d heard the hiss of her cell door opening. Both times, Becsul had been there—his warmth solid against her back, his tail curled protectively around her waist, his quiet voice murmuring reassurances until her heart rate settled. “I think it takes time. To trust it.”
“To trust anything.” Sarah’s gaze dropped to her cup. “Before… before this, I was married. Did I tell you that? Ten years. Two kids—Katie and her older brother, Marcus. He was with his father when they took us.”
“Sarah, I’m so sorry.”
“He’s probably fine. Michael’s a good father. Overprotective, if anything.” Her laugh was watery. “I used to complain about it. How he always had to know where we were, what we were doing. Now I… I hope he’s holding on to Marcus so tight it hurts.”
Melissa reached across the table to squeeze her hand. “You’ll see them again.”
“Maybe.” Sarah’s expression flickered with something complicated—hope and fear and grief all tangled together. “The Patrol can help with that, right? Getting messages through, at least?”
“That’s what Becsul says. They have protocols for this.”
“Protocols.” Sarah’s laugh was sharper this time. “Imagine having protocols for ‘sorry, aliens kidnapped your wife and daughter, here’s how to proceed.’“
“I think they have protocols for everything.” Melissa glanced down at the datapad in her lap—a comprehensive guide to galactic civilization that Trevan had loaded for her. She’dbeen working through it obsessively, trying to understand the universe she’d been thrown into. “Did you know there are over three hundred recognized sentient species in this sector alone? And that’s just the ones officially documented.”
“I did not know that.” Sarah blinked. “That’s… a lot.”
“And they all have different biologies, different reproductive systems, and different cultural practices around family and children.” Melissa felt the familiar spark of professional interest that had defined her career. “Some species lay eggs. Some give birth to live young. Some have external gestation pouches. There’s one species that reproduces through a kind of… cellular merging? I don’t fully understand the science yet.”
“You sound excited.”
“I am excited.” The admission surprised her even as it left her mouth. “I mean, obviously the circumstances are horrifying. But the science, Sarah. The possibilities for research, for helping species struggling with fertility?—”
“Like the Cire.”
