Page 43 of Legacy for the Alien Warrior

He showed her how to operate the mixing unit, adjusting the controls to accommodate her smaller hands. Talia’s ears flushed with pleasure as she concentrated on her task, the tip of her tongue peeking out between her lips.

“Like this?” she asked, looking up at him with those big black eyes.

“Perfect,” he assured her, something warm unfurling in his chest.

As they worked together, he found himself telling her about the ingredients—which planets they came from, how they tasted, which ones were his favorites. She absorbed every word, asking questions that revealed a quick intelligence beneath her initial shyness.

“My mother used to make something that smelled like this,” she said suddenly as he added spices to the protein base. “But different, too.”

“Food memories are powerful,” he said, thinking of his own mother’s cooking. “They connect us to our past.”

She nodded solemnly. “I miss her cooking. I miss her.”

The simple statement, delivered without tears but with profound sadness, touched something deep within him. He rested a gentle hand on her shoulder as his tail wrapped around her small back.

“I know,” he said softly. “I miss my family too.”

She leaned briefly against his side, a gesture of shared comfort that nearly undid him. Then she straightened, returning to her mixing with renewed determination.

Across the galley, Rory had arranged his nutrition bar into precise geometric patterns before eating each section. Kara watched them both, something unreadable in her expression.

When the meal was ready, they gathered around the small table. Talia proudly explained her contribution to each dish, and even Rory tried a few bites of the unfamiliar food before returning to his preferred nutrition bar.

“This is delicious,” Kara said, and the genuine pleasure in her voice filled him with ridiculous satisfaction.

“Talia deserves most of the credit,” he replied, watching as the child’s ears flushed a deep, pleased purple.

The conversation flowed easily as they ate, punctuated by Rory’s occasional humming and Talia’s increasingly confident questions. He found himself relaxing, his usual vigilance softening in the warmth of their company.

This was what his childhood had been like, he realized. Meals shared in the ship’s galley, his parents’ quiet conversation, his brother’s endless questions. The memory brought a pang, but not the crippling grief he’d grown accustomed to. Instead, he found himself grateful for those memories—and for this unexpected echo of them.

After they finished eating, he showed Talia how to operate the cleaning unit while Kara helped Rory with his morning routine. The ship hummed around them, steady and secure, as they settled into a rhythm that felt startlingly natural.

Later, when the children were occupied with learning games in the lounge, he found Kara in the corridor, watching them through the open doorway.

“Talia’s picking up the language modules quickly,” she observed. “And Rory seems comfortable with her.”

“They’ve bonded,” he agreed. “It’s remarkable, given what they’ve both been through.”

“Children are remarkably resilient.” Her voice carried the weight of experience. “More than we give them credit for.”

He studied her profile, noting the strength in her jaw, the determined set of her shoulders. “Like their mother.”

She glanced up at him, surprise softening to something warmer. “I’ve had to be.”

“You shouldn’t have had to face it alone.” The words escaped before he could consider them.

“Neither should you,” she countered softly.

The understanding in her eyes threatened to undo him. He looked away, focusing on the children instead. “What will you do when we reach the Patrol station?”

She was silent for a long moment. “I don’t know,” she finally admitted. “I had this idea that they’d help us get home, but home doesn’t really exist anymore. Not for us.”

“And Talia?”

“I won’t abandon her.” The fierce certainty in her voice matched the protective instinct that had been growing in his own chest. “Whatever happens, she comes with us.”

Us. The simple pronoun hung between them, laden with implications neither of them had voiced.

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