Page 58 of Return to Sender
“AXIS,” Mother addresses our ship’s AI directly, “you’re gaining a permanent crew member with unique operational requirements. Think you can handle relationship counseling protocols along with your regular system management duties?”
“I have been conducting extensive observational analysis and behavioral pattern documentation,” AXIS replies with what sounds suspiciously like artificial pride. “I believe I am adequately prepared for ongoing... partnership support protocols and compatibility maintenance systems.”
“Partnership support protocols?” I question with growing amusement.
“AXIS has been taking notes,” Wi’kar explains with the kind of fond exasperation that suggests our AI has been more intrusive than I realized. “Detailed notes. With recommendations.”
“Recommendations for what?”
“Optimal interaction parameters,” AXIS supplies helpfully. “Environmental adjustments for enhanced comfort. Scheduling suggestions for maximum relationship satisfaction. Comprehensive romantic gesture analysis.”
“Our AI is giving us relationship advice,” I summarize with delight.
“Our AI has been conducting unauthorized sociological research using us as test subjects,” Wi’kar corrects, though he sounds more amused than annoyed.
“It was highly educational,” AXIS defends. “The transition from colleagues to mates provided fascinating data regarding organic bonding behaviors and attachment formation protocols.”
“Good,” Mother says briskly, clearly enjoying our predicament. “Then you’re completely prepared for departure. Official OOPS credentials and security clearances will be waiting for Partner Dominique at the Huxaria Prime diplomatic station. Try not to cause any additional inter-galactic incidents.”
“No promises,” I reply honestly, earning a snort of amusement from Mother and a look of resigned acceptance from Wi’kar.
“I would be surprised if you managed two weeks without creating some form of diplomatic complication,” Mother admits.“Just try to keep it to minor incidents rather than major inter-species conflicts.”
“Minor incidents are well within acceptable parameters,” Wi’kar agrees solemnly.
After the communication ends, we spend the morning completing departure preparations and composing my message to my father. The words come easier than I expected, flowing from a place of certainty rather than guilt or defensive justification. I am sorry for worrying him, but I am not sorry for becoming myself instead of the person he wanted me to be.
The Protocol Prime feels different as we prepare for departure—not like Wi’kar’s ship that I happen to be traveling on, but like our ship, our home, our shared space designed around both our needs and preferences. AXIS has even adjusted environmental controls to what the AI describes as “optimized atmospheric conditions for bi-species cohabitation and enhanced comfort protocols.”
“Ready for departure?” Wi’kar asks as we settle onto the bridge, his movements carrying the easy confidence of someone completely comfortable with his environment and his crew—his partner.
“Ready,” I confirm, though I pause to look around the space with new appreciation and possessive satisfaction. “You know, when I first stowed away on this ship, I was running from something. Now I feel like I’m running toward something.”
“Toward what specifically?” he asks with genuine curiosity, his attention focused on me with the kind of complete focus that still makes my breath catch.
“Everything,” I reply simply, though the word carries the weight of genuine wonder. “Adventure, partnership, a future I get to choose. A life where I wake up every morning next to someone who sees me as a person instead of a political asset or marriage commodity.”
His patterns pulse brighter, and he reaches for my hand with the casual familiarity that still makes my heart skip with joy and possessive satisfaction.
“AXIS,” he commands with professional efficiency, “initiate departure sequence.”
“Departure sequence initiated,” AXIS responds with characteristic precision. “Destination: Huxaria Prime Pleasure Gardens Resort and Cultural Exchange Facility. Estimated travel time: four days through hyperspace. Recommend reviewing supplementary educational materials during transit.”
“Educational materials?” I ask with growing anticipation and curiosity.
“AXIS believes we will require enhanced cultural preparation protocols for optimal mission performance,” Wi’kar explains with perfect seriousness, though his eyes are definitely laughing and something much more intense.
“Enhanced cultural preparation,” I repeat thoughtfully, my pulse quickening at the implications. “That sounds very... comprehensive.”
“I believe in thorough mission preparation and protocol adherence,” he replies, his voice dropping to that possessive tone that makes heat pool low in my belly and my breathing go shallow.
“Thorough preparation,” I agree, rising from my chair with deliberate intent. “I do appreciate a man who pays attention to details.”
As we clear Umbra-7’s gravity well and prepare for the jump to hyperspace, I settle back with deep satisfaction and growing anticipation. Six months ago, I was a princess trapped by duty and political expectations, resigned to a lifetime of marrying someone who made my skin crawl. Today, I’m a courier apprentice heading off on my first official mission with my partner, my mate, my chosen future—to a resort specificallydesigned for couples to explore compatibility and enhance their relationships.
“AXIS,” I call out sweetly, “engage privacy protocols. I think Wi’kar’s stress levels may require some immediate attention before we review those educational materials.”
“Privacy protocols engaged,” AXIS responds with what I absolutely know is artificial smugness. “Hyperspace jump in three... two... one...”
