When I woke up, I was in a medi-bay on a space station, and he was gone. The doctors told me I'd been drugged with a Kwado breeding stimulant, that I was lucky to be alive. That the male who'd found me had brought me straight to them and then disappeared before they could get his name.
They also told me, three weeks later, that I was pregnant.
I never saw him again. Never learned his name or where he came from. Just those eyes—kind and honey-brown—and the memory of gentleness when I'd expected only cruelty. The memory of being held like I mattered, like I was precious, even when I'd been reduced to nothing more than an object in someone else's twisted game.
"Mama, you're not listening."
I blinked, focusing back on my son, pushing away the ghosts that still haunted me. "Sorry, baby. I was listening. You went super high, right?"
"The highest ever." He grabbed my hand, tugging. "Come push me again. Please?"
"Alright." I let him drag me back to the swings, unable to resist that gap-toothed grin. "But just for a little while longer, okay? Then we need to head home for dinner."
"Spaghetti?" His eyes lit up with hope.
"Spaghetti," I confirmed, and he pumped his fist in the air before scrambling back onto the swing.
We played for a little while longer, until Teddy's stomach grumbled—a sure sign it was time for dinner. Holding hands, we waved goodbye to the construction crew and headed home.
It still felt surreal sometimes, having this life. The bakery, our cozy apartment above it, a community that had welcomed us without asking too many questions about where we'd come from or why a human woman had a son who was clearly only half-human.
As wonderful as Tau Ceti was, though, it wasn't perfect. I felt the weight of a stare and glanced up to see Farris Clegg standing down the street, his face twisted in a familiar scowl. He was tall and lean, with greasy light brown hair that hung limp around his shoulders. Whatever muscles he'd once had—maybe from his days on Earth, or wherever he'd been before ending up here—had gone to pot. Now he just looked wiry and mean, all sharp angles and resentment.
My stomach tightened, but I kept walking and kept my chin up.
For every Craig, Bartholomeus, and Mei, there was a Clegg. People who hated aliens—all aliens, no matter what. No matter that most of us had been saved by aliens and given a second chance at life. Clegg and his group lived on the edge of town, kept mostly to themselves, but they were vocal enough about their views. Vocal about their disgust for women like me and Mei who'd had children with other species.
The rumors about what had happened to some of them were whispered in dark corners. Bodies so broken they'd needed a Garoot Healer just to survive. The irony wasn't lost on any of us. The very alien technology that had saved their lives was what trapped them in space forever. Once you went through the Garoot Healer, you could never go home to Earth.
Maybe that's what made them so bitter.
I met Clegg's gaze head-on, refusing to look away, refusing to hide. Teddy's small hand was warm in mine, and I squeezed it gently. My son was the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to me. I felt no shame for having him. Not one single ounce.
Clegg could scowl all he wanted.
Teddy chattered beside me about something Mei's youngest had said, and I squeezed his hand gently, letting his voice anchor me in the present instead of drifting back to those honey-brown eyes that still haunted my dreams. Eyes that had shown me kindness when I'd needed it most, eyes I'd never see again but would never forget.
Chapter 3
Cristox
The market sprawled across the central plaza, all color and motion and noise. The sun cast dancing shadows between the stalls, highlighting the mingled scents of a dozen different cuisines and the cheerful chaos of bartering in a babel of languages.
I wove through the crowd, nodding to the familiar faces of those I remembered from previous visits to the planet. Ida Simpkins sat in her usual spot near the eastern edge, her gnarled hands clicking away with knitting needles as she added to her growing pile of scarves, hats, and even a few sweaters despite the perpetual warmth of Tau Ceti's climate. I'd bought three scarves from her already—none of which I needed.
The scents wafting from Max Dooley's smoked meat stand made my mouth water. He'd set up shop near the center of the plaza, and the line at his stall never seemed to shrink. Max had been something called a pitmaster back on Earth, and he'd adapted his craft to the local livestock with impressive results. The rich, savory smoke curled through the air, mixing with the sweeter aromas from the fruit vendors and the sharp tang of fermented vegetables.
Dozens of citizens set up shops, each with their specialized wares or food to sell. Tau Ceti was mostlyagricultural. The soil here was rich, the growing season nearly year-round, so the market overflowed with produce. Humans were a creative sort. Yuki's pottery, Martinez's hand-tooled leather goods, the Bullard family's honey and preserves. It was a functioning economy, small but growing, built by beings, both human and others, who'd been given a second chance.
Near the fountain, I spotted Craig helping a man stack vegetables at his stall and raised a hand in greeting. Craig grinned and waved back, his face crinkling with good humor.
"Cristox!"
I turned to see Mei threading toward me through the press of bodies, Bartholomeus trailing behind with their two children clinging to his hands. Little Lingse had her mother's dark eyes and her father's serious expression, while Cuietsu craned his long neck to stare at everything with unabashed wonder.
"Mei, Bartholomeus." I clasped hands with them both, then crouched to eye level with the kids. "And how are my favorite troublemakers?"
Lingse giggled. Cuietsu hid behind his father's leg.
