“Mama would want you to be happy,” Tavia continues quietly. “She told me that. Before. That she wanted us to be happy.”
My throat tightens. “I know, small one.”
“So it’s okay if you like Dove. It’s okay if you want her to stay.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Why not?”
Because she’s leaving. Because I have no right to ask her to stay. Because three years of careful control is disintegrating in the space of days and I don’t know how to stop it.
“Sleep,” I say instead. “We’ll discuss this when you’re not deploying tactical exhaustion.”
Her giggle is unrepentant. “I love you, Papa.”
“I love you too. Even when you’re scheming.”
“Especially when I’m scheming,” she corrects, then yawns for real this time. “Tell Dove goodnight from me.”
“I will.”
I dim the lights and exit her room, closing the door with the soft pneumatic hiss of station architecture.
Dove is still in the kitchen when I return. She’s finished the frosting—it sits in a covered bowl, perfectly prepared. She’s wiped down the counters, organized the supplies, and is now standing at the viewport watching lightning arc across the alien sky.
The storm is beautiful from inside the station’s shielding. Deadly and magnificent in equal measure.
“She asleep?” Dove asks without turning.
“Yes. She asked me to say goodnight.”
“She’s a good kid.”
“She’s a tactical nightmare who learned manipulation from watching too many diplomatic negotiations on her educational modules.”
Dove’s laugh is quiet. “She loves you. That’s not manipulation—that’s just caring.”
“She’s plotting to keep you here permanently.”
“I know.” Dove finally turns to face me. “Cetus, about what she said—”
“You don’t owe me explanations.” I cross to stand near her—not touching, but close enough to feel her warmth. “She’seight. She doesn’t understand that adult situations are more complicated.”
“What if they don’t have to be?”
I wasn’t expecting that. “What?”
She takes a breath, seems to steel herself. “Three to four days. That’s how long we have.”
“Yes.”
“You said you have resources. Financial reserves that could—”
“No.” I cut her off gently but firmly. “I wasn’t offering charity. I was offering help because I—”
I stop myself before I say too much.
“Because you what?” Her dark eyes search mine.
