“Hold your position as best you can,” Rok says. “We’re trying to clear a path for you.”
I register their ships—three of them, hovering near the outskirts, firing on the debris.
A moment later, I see a clear path. “I’m moving,” I bark.
They cease fire and I give the ship full power, which still is achingly slow.
“You made it! Veck, you did it, Tarek!” Benn shouts. “Thank veck I got trapped in a debris field with the only person in the galaxy able to navigate out!”
It takes a moment for his words to sink in. The three Zandian ships surround us and magnetize our ship to draw it out. As my white knuckles gradually ease around the controls, I realize the significance of Benn’s words.
We escaped because of my disability. Because of my different ability.
I’m not defective. I’m… highly skilled, capable and, actually, special.
And Zina was right—I use my blindness as a shield to keep people out. I used it to deny myself the possibility of mating her. Of having a family.
And now I have a second chance.
I draw in a deep breath and let it out. Allow Benn to thump my back and share in the celebration.
We’re alive.
We’re going home.
We both have families who need us.
Zina
I tremble as I wait on the tarmac for the ship to land. Gorde and Danica and Marea are there, too. Enya and Bayla also show up, Enya standing beside me and holding my hand. Thank our sweet Mother Earth for her presence here because part of me wants to run away. I turned around to go back home three times, but each time returned.
When I heard Tarek had escaped and was alive, I wept with joy. But now that I actually have to face him, the gulf between us seems too wide. My anger at him has returned. He may still be alive, but nothing’s changed. He doesn’t want me or this baby.
The ship descends and we duck against the displaced air and plug our ears against the whine of the engine. The engines shut off and the hatch opens.
The moment Tarek’s huge form appears in the frame, my heart surges to my throat. Tears sting my eyes, but I march forward.
He turns his sightless eyes in my direction and comes for me. My relief at him not running away from me spurs me on. Or maybe it’s my need to speak for our unborn baby. I walk right up to him and slap his lavender-skinned face.
He stops, surprised. “Zina,” he chokes.
I hold up my hand. “No. Don’t say I word. I have something to say to you, Tarek.”
He swallows. “All right.”
“You’re using your blindness as an excuse to wallow in your fears. There’s nothing wrong with you. You contribute just as much to Zandian society as any warrior, and if you ever dare believe our child is less-than because he or she has your genes, I will flatten you.”
It’s a ridiculous threat, since I couldn’t flatten his little finger, but I mean every word of it.
“I love our young and I won’t let you diminish him or her, whether she ends up being blind or not.”
A strange look comes over Tarek’s face. “She?”
“Or he.” I put my hand over my abdomen.
His head tilts in that direction like he’s following the movement with his sensors.
And then he shocks me by dropping to his knees and covering my belly with his large palm. “I love our young, too,” he rasps hoarsely. “And I’m sorry I reacted so badly. I’m ashamed of myself. Zina, when I was out there in Ocretion territory, not sure if we’d live or die, it vecking tore me apart knowing the last words I spoke to you made you cry.