Why did I ever run away from this with my own children?she found herself wondering. Why did I think I couldn’t do this?She had rarely felt such a sense of purpose. Rarely been so fulfilled.

In time, Riker became lucid again—still weak, but able to respond coherently. “Thank you” was the first thing he said to her.

“I’m sorry” was the first thing she replied.

“Unhhh…forget it.” He tried to roll around to face her. She helped him to sit up at the water’s edge and stepped back a few paces to crouch in the shallows, resting on the submerged outer curve of the islet, while she faced him. “What’s…the situation?” he asked her.

She filled him in on the basics, including the squales’ offer. “I see,” Riker said when she was done. “You think we should take it?”

Aili lowered her eyes. “I did. But not now.”

“Why not?”

It was several moments before she spoke. “You remember what you asked me before? Why I joined Starfleet if I was so ashamed of my affairs with offworlders?”

He showed no confusion at the non sequitur, perhaps simply being too weak to muster it. “Uh-huh.”

“I always told myself it was about responsibility. That it was a way to make up for being so irresponsible as a mother. I’d used the galaxy as a distraction from my duties, so maybe giving something back to the galaxy would even the scales. Or something like that.”

“But that’s not it?”

She gave a small shake of her head. Again, a long silence preceded her next words. “When I was young…my sister Miana was out swimming with our mother and Miana’s father when…she was taken by a sea predator. Such things still happen on Pacifica…even with modern technology, an ocean is a big, wild place, hard to tame. It’s one reason we need such large families.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So was I. And I was angry. I loved Miana so much, and I blamed Mom for letting her die. For not protecting her like she was supposed to.” She winced at the memory of the pain in her mother’s face as she’d cursed her—the grief, as strong as her own, that she’d ignored. “So as I grew up…when she tried to teach me the values of good parenting that are so important to amphibious Selkies…I didn’t find it credible, considering the source. I tuned them out, rebelled against her lessons. Miana’s father left, of course, and other fathers came and went, but I wasn’t willing to trust any of them either.

“I didn’t even want to become a mother, but I’d tuned out my parents’ lessons in responsible sex too, so I kind of ended up getting parenting thrust upon me. And I wasn’t ready. I didn’t know how to cope. And…” She leaned back in the water, immersing more of her gills—in essence, taking a deep breath before going on. “And I was afraid. I didn’t admit it, but I was afraid of being just as bad a mother as I thought my own was. I didn’t trust myself to take care of my children. So I retreated. As often as I could, I left my kids in the care of relatives, friends, anyone. And I lost myself in the kind of self-indulgence we’re supposed to save for our aquatic phase—that’s supposed to be a well-earned reward for two decades of devoted parenting. I played, I danced, I drank, and I had sex with aliens who didn’t know our customs or didn’t care.”

Riker studied her. “Why have more children, then?”

“Because I couldn’t completely get away from my social obligations. And because I preferred taking the easy way out. It was easier to go along with the pressure to take more mates and then foist the babies off on family than to try to stay unattached.” She smirked. “Besides, I liked sex with Selkie men too. I attracted a lot of desirable partners. My affairs with offworlders made me seem alluringly experienced…mature. And some men like ‘bad girls.’

“And maybe, eventually, it became about trying to mend my reputation. I got tired of being the butt of everyone’s gossip and dirty looks, wanted to prove I could do the respectable thing. But I still didn’t trust myself to be a good mother, so I still ran from my responsibilities.”

“So is that why you left?” Riker asked. “To get away from everyone’s judgment?”

She shook her head. “All I had to do for that was wait for my amphibious phase to end. Aquatics lead the kind of uninhibited life I was already leading on land. They don’t judge much.”

Riker’s eyes widened. “You mean you left before you…changed?” He gestured to indicate her current physiological state.

“Not long before. A couple of years. And it could’ve come on me at any time.”

He narrowed his eyes, discerning what lay behind her words. “You wanted to leave Pacifica before it happened.”

She nodded. “I told myself I’d be bored as a mature aquatic. It would just be more of the same thing I’d been doing for twenty years, but with less variety and less…spice. Because it would be normal and accepted. No more ‘bad girl’, just blending in with the group. We call it a sepkinalorian…I think the closest Standard concept would be a face in the crowd, except it’s more of a party than a crowd. I liked to joke to myself that it was a kind of drudgework, a ‘job’ I was happy to have avoided.

“But really, I guess I didn’t think I deserved the life of a mature aquatic. I hadn’t earned it. They wouldn’t have judged me, but I was judging myself, whether I admitted it or not.”

“So you cast yourself out of paradise.”

She tilted her head. “You could say that. I signed up with Starfleet, and I told everyone it was so I could give something back, make up for my selfish life. I even convinced myself.

“But I think I understand now—I was still running away. Leaving home was a way to avoid facing the real root of my problems. To avoid facing my mother…and my memories.”

She straightened in the water. “Sir, I really am happy here. The squales have offered me something that would be an amazing adventure, and I’m grateful to them for that. But…it would still be running away. Hiding from my responsibilities.