I turn to the sidelines where Nessa lags behind a Vakutan trainee. She’s frowning—concentrating on matching the stance. I sit down on a driftwood bench that’s been wrapped with moss braid. The wood smells faintly of pine and damp. I close my eyes for a moment and feel the cadence of joy under the training shouts. It’s not the adrenaline of war—it’s the pulse of purpose.
I open my eyes and watch Nessa shift, grip tighter, mirror her partner. She doesn’t smile. Not yet. But her posture is firmer. I stand and walk to her. She pauses, glances at me. I crouch.
“You ready for the last set?”
She nods. Lips pressed. “Mama, I’m gonna beat him.”
“Alright.” I put a hand on her arm. “But win or lose, I want you to leave him standing.”
She grins. “Got it.”
I straighten and step back. Vael claps. The field resumes. I stay crouched just a moment, hand on the driftwood, dust falling around my fingers. I watch until the whistle. The trainee drops. Nessa stands. Raised fist. Victory. She looks at me. I cheer. She jogs over.
“Mama! Did you see me?”
“Yes I did.”
“I’m strong.”
“You’re more than strong.” I pull her into a tight hug, feel her cheek against my chest, smell her hair—lilac and sand. “You’re unstoppable.”
She giggles. “I’ll show them that tomorrow.”
Night falls soft and deliberate.We gather around the community table for dinner. The light inside the dome is lantern-warm. The smells: roasted root meat, sea-weed salad with citrus tang, bread still warm. Nessa eats two helpings. She sits between Vael and me. I feel his arm wrap around me mid-bite. He whispers: “We did good.”
I nod. Full. I pick at a slice of citrus peel. The zest snaps under my teeth. I close my eyes and taste everything: the sea’s salt, the heat of the root meat, the sweetness of the bread. I taste peace.
After dinner, I take Nessa with me to the quiet shore. The night is deep blue-black. The sea glows faintly along the tide—those bio-shards lighting the water’s edge. I smell the ocean thick, heavy. The wind carries distant music—someone playing a shell-horn, high and mournful, turning into a lullaby for the young.
Nessa kicks off her sandals and runs into the shallows. I watch her toes sink into the sand, water touching her ankles, glow-trails swirling around her legs. I smile. I used to run from water like it knew my secrets. Now she runsinit.
Vael comes and stands beside me. I lean into him. His breath on my neck steady. He dips his hand in the water and splashes a little. I laugh as the spray hits me. Sea-cool. Clean. Good.
He says quietly: “Look at her.”
I follow his gesture. Nessa lifts her arms to the moons and laughs. Her hair fans out, wet, shimmering with the seaside glow. I feel water-drops on my cheek. I smell the sea and feel the sand on my bare feet. It’s a moment that could have been stolen earlier—but now it’s ours.
I rest my head against his shoulder. “She belongs here,” I say. “And I belong here.”
He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “And I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”
Later, I lie in bed beside him, Nessa asleep between us, breathing softly. The hull hums. The night air cools the upholstery. I trace my fingers along his jawline—metal-bone and living flesh. I taste salt on my lips. I listen to the waves outside our window. I breathe in a deep slow breath.
I don’t think about the inquiry. Not tonight. I don’t think about what records might show, what shadows might still chase us. I only feel the mattress beneath me, the steady rise and fall of Vael’s chest, the warmth of Nessa’s dream-breath.
I whisper: “I’m so glad we built this.”
He murmurs in return: “Us.”
_____________________________________________________________________________
The night air is softer here. Not hollowed out by the roar of fighters or the clank of armored boots. Just the hush of salt-wind drifting across the open window, the faint pulse of the settlement’s life in the distance, and the stars—so many stars that the sky feels like a living quilt stitched from old fire.
I sit beside him on the porch of our home. The wood beneath us is warm from day’s sun, edged with moon-shadow now. The scent of moss wraps around the structure—those braided moss strips we wove across the beams so the wind wouldn’t scream on storm nights. I breathe it in. I breathe out everything I used to carry.
Inside, Nessa’s asleep. I can hear her light breathing through the wall—soft, even, the rhythm of someone really rested. Not someone hiding in the bunk of a smuggler’s hold, not someone with a bounty on her head. Just a child dreaming.
Vael’s beside me, arm around my shoulders. His body radiates calm. Sometimes I lean into him, feel the plate seams of his cybernetics soften under cloth, the warmth of flesh beneath. He doesn’t talk yet. Not until the right moment.
