She was quiet for a moment, clearly thinking. Robbie babbled something and grabbed a fistful of Becsul’s uniform, tugging experimentally.
“It’s a good offer,” Melissa said finally. “Stability. Community. A place to belong.”
“But?”
She smiled—a small, knowing smile that told him she understood what he was really asking. “But I’d be miserable, wouldn’t I? Living on a ship, never settling anywhere long enough to establish myself. Never getting to practice medicine, never building the career I’ve been dreaming about.”
“I did not say?—”
“You didn’t have to.” She crossed to him, rising on her toes to press a kiss to his jaw. “I appreciate that you thought about what I want before making a decision. That means more than you know.”
“Your happiness matters to me.”
“I know. And yours matters to me.” She took Robbie back, settling him against her shoulder. “So here’s what I think: we figure out what the Patrol has to say first. Then we figure out our options. And then we make decisions together. Deal?”
“Deal.”
It was such a human word. Such a human concept—negotiation between equals, partnership rather than hierarchy. His training had prepared him for command structures and chain of authority, not for the collaborative decision-making of a mated pair.
I am learning, he thought. She is teaching me.
The ship shuddered slightly as the docking protocols engaged, and Trevan’s voice crackled over the internal comm.
“All passengers, please gather in the main cargo bay for disembarkation. We’ll be boarding the station in approximately ten minutes.”
Melissa took a deep breath. “Here we go.”
“Here we go,” he agreed.
The cargo baywas crowded with their small group—Sarah holding Katie’s hand, Wei-Lin standing slightly apart with her arms crossed, Koss bouncing nervously on his heels. Captain Trevan stood by the external hatch, his face impassive as the docking clamps engaged with a series of heavy thuds.
“Remember,” he said, addressing them all, “you are witnesses, not criminals. You have done nothing wrong. Answer their questions honestly, but do not volunteer information beyond what is asked.”
“Standard interrogation protocols,” Wei-Lin said dryly. “I’m familiar.”
“I’m sure you are.” Trevan’s cybernetic eye flickered. “Dr. Desai, you should take the lead as spokesperson for the group. You are articulate, sympathetic, and—forgive me—human. The Patrol will find it easier to relate to you.”
Melissa nodded, her jaw set with determination. Becsul felt a surge of pride at her composure. She had been a prisoner, an experimental subject, a mother protecting her child in impossible circumstances. Now she was stepping into the role of leader with the same quiet strength she brought to everything.
I chose well, he thought. Or perhaps she chose me. Either way, I am fortunate.
The hatch hissed open, revealing a boarding corridor illuminated by cold white light. A Patrol officer stood waiting—a tall, blue-skinned Velorian in the distinctive grey uniform of Galactic Patrol enforcement. His expression was professionally neutral.
“Welcome to Korinth-7,” he said, his voice flat and formal. “I am Officer Delvan. You will follow me to processing, where your statements will be recorded. Please keep your hands visible at all times and do not deviate from the marked path.”
“Friendly,” Wei-Lin muttered.
They filed out of the cargo bay in a loose group, following Officer Delvan through the boarding corridor and into the station proper. The air was recycled and sterile, carrying the faint tang of disinfectant. Overhead, surveillance devices tracked their progress with mechanical precision.
Becsul kept Melissa and Robbie close, his senses alert for any sign of threat. The station hummed with activity—officers moving purposefully through corridors, civilians waiting indesignated areas, maintenance drones crawling along walls and ceilings. It was orderly, efficient, and utterly impersonal.
A machine for processing problems, he thought. And we are the latest problems to be processed.
They passed through a security checkpoint—scanners confirming their identities, automated systems logging their biometrics—and then into a larger chamber that appeared to be a reception area of some kind. Benches lined the walls, and several other groups sat waiting, their expressions ranging from bored to anxious.
“Wait here,” Officer Delvan said. “Station Captain Veyros will see you shortly.”
He departed without further explanation, leaving them standing in the middle of the reception area with no clear sense of what came next.
