Tracker talked with the Doctor for a while. They spoke in low voices, so as not to disturb the other Defenders sleeping nearby. Once they paused, listening as Sasha returned. Sasha’s sled anchored itself to the side of the airbus with a sharp clank.
A few minutes later, the airbus’ engine started up. It rose into the air and began the long journey back to Chattanooga. Sasha came up the stairway and walked over to where Tracker and Antoinette sat.
“You, Ahn-toinette, are good?” she asked in a sibilant whisper. Tracker nodded. “Iss good,” she declared. Then she looked at the Doctor. “Him. Who iss?” she demanded. The doctor watched her with interest, a humanoid feline woman clothed in soft grey fur.
“My father, Doctor Moreaux. Father, this is Sasha. She is an extraterrestrial who was shipwrecked here.”
Sasha looked at Tracker doubtfully, glancing back at the Doctor. “You father? Mate you mother?”
“No. Not exactly. He adopted me.”
“What iss ‘adopted’?”
Doctor Moreaux watched, an amused smile on his lips. Tracker looked at her expressionlessly. “I’m his son by law, not by birth,” he said brusquely. Antoinette stirred uneasily in his lap, aware, even in her sleep, of the belligerence in his voice and posture. He stroked her long hair, calming her and himself.
Comprehension dawned in Sasha’s yellow eyes. “Kin-claimed,” she said. Tracker nodded. She smiled. “Good night.”
She dropped down the spiral stairs, then vaulted over the rail, landing lightly on the floor, and walked to where Louis was sleeping. She stretched and yawned hugely, then curled up against the small of his back.
At last, the Doctor put his hand on Tracker’s knee. “I’m proud of you, John. I’m really proud of what you’ve made of yourself. I’ve been so worried that my mistake in judgment had ruined your life, but it hasn’t, and that makes me very glad. You’re doing something you’re good at, you’re contributing to society, and you have friends that care about you. What more can a man ask for?”
He looked down at Antoinette’s head, pillowed on Tracker’s lap. “And you have a brave and lovely woman. She makes you happy, my son?”
“Yes, Father. Very happy. Her coming here helped me break the last of Castile’s conditioning. I’m going to ask her to marry me.”
The older man nodded. “That is very good. Now I think I will sleep for awhile. This old body has had more excitement this night than it is used to.”
Tracker stood, gently laying Antoinette’s head on the cushion. She muttered in protest and he stroked her hair. He raised the lid of the storage locker under the bench and secured a pair of legs under the end to make the seat into a wider bed. He gently pulled on the thin seat cushion, pulling it and Antoinette out, causing the back cushion to fall and take its place. Taking out three pillows, he handed one to the Doctor, along with another blanket.
Then he carefully put the second pillow under Antoinette’s dark head and lay down beside her, taking her into his arms. With a contented murmur, she burrowed against his chest. He hugged her gently, then drifted off to sleep.
