“Impressive, isn’t she?” Captain Trevan’s voice came from beside him. The older Cire had approached silently—a skill Becsul respected—and now stood with his arms folded, his scarred face illuminated by the viewport’s reflected light. “Korinth-7 processes over two thousand cases per standard cycle. Everything from smuggling to murder to… situations like yours.”
“You have been here before.”
“Many times. Some as a witness. Some as cargo runner with nothing to hide.” Trevan’s cybernetic eye flickered orange. “Once as a suspect, though that was a misunderstanding involving a shipment of supposedly extinct reptiles that turned out to be very much alive and extremely venomous.”
“What happened?”
“The charges were dropped when the creatures ate the evidence.” His tone suggested this was either a joke or a very strange truth. “The Patrol can be reasonable when circumstances warrant.”
“And when circumstances do not warrant?”
Trevan was quiet for a moment. “Then they can be… thorough.”
The word hung between them, heavy with implication. Becsul had dealt with military tribunals, with Council investigations, with the rigid hierarchies of Cire justice. But this was different. This was galactic law—a system he understood only in abstract terms, built on principles that might not account for the nuances of what he had done and why.
I helped kidnap sentient beings. I participated in forced medical experimentation. The fact that I eventually rebelled does not erase my complicity.
His tail curled against his thigh, agitated. In the crew quarters three decks below, Melissa would be waking soon. Robbie would need feeding. The morning rituals that had become precious to him over the past days would continue, and she would be expecting him to be there.
But the future pressed against his chest like a physical weight, demanding acknowledgment.
“I have been thinking,” he said slowly, “about what comes after.”
“After the Patrol?”
“After everything. Assuming we are not imprisoned or—” He stopped, unwilling to voice the alternatives. “Assuming we are free to make choices.”
“A reasonable thing to think about.” Trevan adjusted something on the navigation console, his movements unhurried. “And what conclusions have you reached?”
“None.” The admission cost him something. Warriors were trained to assess, decide, and act. Indecision was weakness. But here, in this liminal space between his old life and whatever came next, certainty eluded him. “I know what I am capable of. Combat. Tactics. Leadership in crisis situations. Protection.”
“Valuable skills.”
“Skills that are common in a galaxy full of warriors and security specialists.” Becsul shook his head. “I am not unique. I am not irreplaceable. And I need to find a way to provide for—” He caught himself. “For my family.”
The word still felt new on his tongue. Family. He had lost his family to the Red Death over three decades ago. He had believed he would never use that word again, except in reference to ghosts.
Now he had a mate. A child who was not his by blood but who had claimed his heart completely. Two more humans who looked to him for protection. A little girl who demanded scary faces and giggled at his compliance.
Family.
Trevan was watching him with an expression that might have been understanding. “The galaxy is vast, Becsul. There are always opportunities for those willing to work.”
“But what opportunities? Security work would take me away from Melissa and Robbie for extended periods. Mercenary contracts are dangerous and unreliable. I could seek employment with a shipping company, but?—”
“You could seek employment with this shipping company.”
Becsul turned to look at the captain directly. “What?”
“I’m offering you a position.” Trevan’s tone was matter-of-fact. “Crew member on the Celestine’s Mercy. Security, navigation assistance, cargo handling—whatever needs doing. The pay is modest but consistent, and you would have quarters on board.”
“You would hire a fugitive?”
“I would hire a competent Cire warrior who has proven himself trustworthy under pressure.” Trevan’s scarred mouth curved slightly. “The Patrol may complicate matters initially, but I do not believe you will be imprisoned. Your testimony is toovaluable. And once your status is resolved, you would be free to accept employment.”
Becsul processed this. A position. Steady work. A place on a crew that had already shown them kindness.
And quarters on board. For all of them.
