I turned to Er'dox. "Thank you. All of you. For making this possible. For making this home."
The observation deck erupted again, approval from eighty-three beings who'd chosen to witness impossible partnership and call it beautiful.
Er'dox pulled me close, and I let myself lean into his impossible height, his alien warmth, his presence that felt like safety despite every logical reason it shouldn't.
"That was exceptional," he murmured against my hair.
"That was terrifying."
"Same thing, different perspective."
We stood in the center of Mothership's observation deck, surrounded by star field and celebration, and I let myself finally believe it. This was home. Not Earth. Not Liberty. Not the life I'd planned or the future I'd imagined. But home anyway—built from cosmic disaster, forged through impossible choices, sustained by partnership that shouldn't work but did.
"Dana?" Er'dox's voice pulled me back to present.
"Yeah?"
"The others are waiting for their turn to speak. We should probably move."
"Right. Yes. Moving." I pulled back, started to step away from center position.
Er'dox caught my hand. "One more thing."
"What?"
"I love you. In case that wasn't clear from the ceremony or the vows or the past six months of increasingly obvious attachment."
I felt my face heat despite six months of adaptation to Zandovian directness. "That was... very clear. And reciprocated. Strongly reciprocated."
"Good. Because you're stuck with me now. Bonding is permanent. No returns, no exchanges."
"You say that like I'd want returns or exchanges."
"You say that like you don't occasionally have buyer's remorse about complex decisions."
He knew me too well. That was terrifying and wonderful and exactly what I'd signed up for when I'd agreed to this ceremony.
"Come on," I said, pulling him toward the edge of the celebration. "Let the other couples have their moment. We can be insufferably happy over here in the corner."
"Insufferably happy. That's an accurate assessment."
We stood at the observation deck window, watching the star field beyond while behind us the celebration continued. Jalina and Zor'go spoke about architecture and design and building futures. Bea and Zorn discussed healing and partnership and caring for each other as they cared for others. Elena and Vaxon would probably argue their way through vows and make it beautiful anyway.
Seventeen survivors from Liberty. Four bonded to Zandovians. Thirteen more building lives from displacement. All of us create something impossible from a catastrophic beginning.
"What are you thinking?" Er'dox asked.
"That this shouldn't work. Human-Zandovian partnerships. Integration of refugees from the wrong galaxy into a functional crew. Building permanent lives from temporary disaster. All of it defies logic."
"And yet it works anyway."
"And yet it works anyway." I leaned against him, let his impossible warmth become familiar comfort. "Like creative engineering. Shouldn't be possible, but becomes necessary. Becomes beautiful."
"That's very philosophical for someone who claims to only think in technical specifications."
"I've been spending too much time around you. Your tendency toward contemplation is rubbing off."
"My contemplation or your brilliance, hard to determine which is more contagious."
