“The ship,” he said slowly. “We would live here?”
“There is room. The Mercy was designed for a larger crew than I currently maintain. Koss and I rattle around like stones in an empty drum.” Trevan gestured vaguely at the vessel around them. “Sarah and her daughter could have the port cabin. The other woman—Wei-Lin—could take the starboard quarters if she wished to stay. And you, Melissa, and young Robbie could have the aft suite.”
“That is… generous.”
“That is practical. I am not young, Becsul. Koss is an excellent engineer but a mediocre navigator and a worse cook. I could use reliable help, and I could use the company.” Something flickered in Trevan’s remaining organic eye—loneliness, perhaps, or simply the weight of years spent largely alone. “Consider it, at least.”
Becsul did consider it. The Celestine’s Mercy had been good to them. The crew had welcomed them without judgment, provided for their needs, treated them as guests rather than burdens. Living here would mean stability, community, purpose.
But it would also mean a life in transit. Moving from port to port, station to station, never settling in one place long enough to build roots. And Melissa?—
Melissa wants to practice medicine. To study and train and build something lasting. She cannot do that from a cargo freighter.
He thought of her face last night, animated with hope as she discussed credentials and apprenticeships and the vast possibilities of galactic reproductive science. The way her eyes had lit up when Trevan mentioned the Medical Guild. The determination in her voice when she talked about helping others.
She deserved to pursue that dream. She deserved solid ground beneath her feet, a home that didn’t move, a place where Robbie could grow up with consistency and stability.
She would hate this life, he realized with quiet certainty. She would try to love it for my sake, but it would slowly crush her.
“I am honored by your offer,” he said carefully. “Truly. But I must speak with Melissa before making any decisions.”
“Of course. The offer will remain open regardless.” Trevan turned back to the console as new coordinates scrolled across the display. “We’ll be docking in approximately twenty minutes. You should gather your people.”
Becsul nodded, but he didn’t move immediately. Instead, he watched the Patrol station grow larger in the viewport, its countless windows glinting like cold stars, its weapons arrays tracking them with impersonal efficiency.
Whatever I choose to do, he thought, I must first ensure we survive this.
Melissa was already awakewhen he reached their quarters, Robbie balanced on her hip as she attempted to organize their meager belongings with one hand.
“We’re close?”
“Twenty minutes to docking.” He moved to take Robbie from her, and the child came willingly, his small fingers immediately finding the texture of Becsul’s skin to explore. “Did you sleep well?”
“Better than expected.” She stretched, working out the kinks from another night on the narrow bunk. “I dreamed about paperwork, which probably means I’m nervous about today.”
“Paperwork?”
“Mountains of it. Forms to fill out, questions to answer, bureaucratic mazes to navigate.” She laughed, but the sound was tight. “My subconscious is apparently very practical.”
Becsul watched her move around the small cabin, gathering items that had become scattered over the past days. The datapad Trevan had provided. A change of clothes donated by the crew. The teething ring that Sarah had given them.
So little, he thought. We have so little to show for our lives.
But they had each other. That was everything.
“I spoke with the captain,” he said. “He offered me a position. On the Mercy.”
Melissa paused, turning to look at him. “A job?”
“Crew member. Security and general assistance.” He kept his voice neutral, not wanting to influence her reaction. “The pay would be steady. We could all live on board.”
“All of us?” Her brow furrowed. “Sarah and Katie and Wei-Lin too?”
“Yes. There is room.”
“That’s incredibly generous of him.”
“He is a generous man.”
