The next morning, Piper’s pregnant. It’s early, of course, but she does a quick blood-scan with her home med-pad and the fertility shot has done its trick. It might have something to do with the fact that I took her six times last night, each one better than the last, and I’ve thrown the plas-film into the recycler. There’s no better feeling than being deep inside her and I never want anything separating us again.
She shows me the results of her blood test with a wary expression, though, as if she’s not entirely sure I’ll be happy.
“That was fast,” I admit as I pull her into my lap and put my arms around her.
“It’s supposed to be fast. That’s the point.” Her mouth quirks. “Are you happy?”
“I will be if it has my face. This sort of beauty needs to be passed along to the next generation.” I mockingly stroke my jaw.
Piper cuddles against my chest. “I’d be fine with that. What now?”
I stroke her back, considering returning to our bed. But…first thing’s first. “Now we go into port and get married.”
Humans are more sentimental than the mesakkah when it comes to matings. For our people, you simply go to the nearest courthouse and file legal documents to join your families together. Humans like ceremony and celebration, so Piper wears a pretty white dress and asks me to say vows to her.
I’m considering what I’ll say when the praxiian that’s been harassing my female shows up at the courthouse to protest our union. Five minutes later, I’ve beat his face to a pulp and have one foot on his neck as I take Piper’s hand in mine. We sign the documents—making sure the praxiian can see the exact moment that Piper slips out of his grasp—and I know immediately what my vows to my female will be.
“Piper, as your husband, I vow that this piece of garbage,” I say, pausing to step harder on the praxiian’s furry neck, “Will never threaten you again. You, or our child.”
Her face glows with happiness.
The magistrate takes the praxiian down to the jail to cool off for a few days (thanks to a well-placed bribe) and I take Piper in my arms and kiss her.
“Do I take your last name?” she asks me, breathless. “Now that I’m your wife?”
I hesitate. Last names are a sore spot with me. Mesakkah are proud of their lineage and family names are revered—the older, the better. “I don’t have a real last name,” I admit to her. “I’m station trash. I was dumped on Riis Station—at the docks—when I was a kit. Grew up in the slums there. I don’t have a good family name to share with you. My full name is Vordigar Riis-Dock.” I shrug. “And the ‘Vordigar’ comes from the name of the old dock-master’s favorite racing sled. I’m a nobody.”
She shakes her head, clasping my hands, her eyes bright. “You’re Vordigar Riis-Dock, protector and husband to Piper Riis-Dock, your wife. You’re a soldier, a good man, a farm-owner, and a father. There’s no one else I’d rather be married to.”
Her brilliant smile makes me feel as if I can take on the universe.
Epilogue
VORDIGAR
“Da Da!”
My daughter squeals as she races into the barn, her arms stretched wide as she toddles toward me.
“Whoa there,” I say, grabbing her with one arm and tucking her against my side. My other hand’s deep in the innards of a fussy drone, trying to jiggle the motor so it’ll stop sputtering when it’s out in the field. It’s not my drone, but that of a neighbor. For the last two seasons, everyone in all the neighboring farms have been bringing over their drones for me to fix, once they saw how fantastic our crops looked after I tuned ours. It brings in extra money, which is a good thing, because my little monster of a daughter is going to need new clothes if she keeps outgrowing hers. I extract my hand from the drone carefully and wipe an oily smear on Kessa’s little nose. “Did you hide from your mother again?”
“Da Da!” she cries again, thrilled. That’s the only word she knows how to say just yet, much to my Piper’s consternation.
“Your mommy’s going to be real mad when she sees you in here with Da Da’s equipment,” I tell her, hefting her onto my hip and exiting the barn.
I close the doors behind me a split second before Piper comes racing out—well, waddling out, since she’s heavily pregnant with our second child. Her face is flushed and her dark hair disheveled, but she’s never looked more beautiful to me.
“There she is.” Piper shakes her head, putting a hand to her brow. “I swear, it’s like she knows the moment I sit down at the tapestry, it’s time to run off and find her dad.” Her mouth curves into a rueful smile as she gazes up at me. “I blame you for making her such a daddy’s girl.”