Starflight (Starflight, #1)(10)
She bought the sturdiest shoulder bag she could find and told the computer to fill it with chips. As she watched the tiny coins drop into the sack, an idea came to mind. She fed the machine a leather cord and instructed it to punch a hole in a set of chips to string a necklace for her to wear. She’d seen traders do the same—it kept their currency close.
While her fuel order was being filled, she wandered the aisles and purchased a practical wardrobe and enough boots to last five years. She guessed Doran’s size and ordered a set of generic coveralls for him, the kind she’d worn at the group home. It put a bounce in her step to imagine how he’d look as a ward of the diocese.
Next she loaded up on standard medications like pain relievers and antibiotics. She’d heard those were hard to find in the outer realm. After buying a precision tool kit and a set of toiletries, she was ready to have her order boxed. But then a twinkle of light caught her eye, and she saw something that sucked the air from her chest.
It was a dress. No, not a dress—a gown fit for an empress.
Made from the most opulent fabric she’d ever seen, it hugged the mannequin’s curves to the waist and flared out to the floor, shimmering like a million dying stars. The effect was mesmerizing. She couldn’t identify the dress’s color. It was simply made of brilliance.
Solara knew she’d never wear anything so lavish. A gown like that was for people with more money than IQ points. But that didn’t stop her from drifting forward and allowing the computer to take her measurements. A moment later, the screen showed her size in stock and offered the dress for five thousand credits.
She gulped and scanned her bracelet.
TRANSACTION APPROVED.
“Thanks, Doran,” she whispered. “You shouldn’t have.”
A shaky laugh escaped her lips. She’d better wrap it up before she completely lost her mind. She returned to the med pod, where Doran pounded a fist against his chest and released a belch.
“Better?” she asked him.
When he glanced over his shoulder, she noticed a difference in him right away. His brow was smooth and his eyes were clear of pain. “Much.”
“Good, because you have a lot of packages to haul.”
Annoyance flashed behind his eyes, but he clenched his jaw and mumbled, “Yes, Miss Brooks.”
It was music to her ears.
Ten minutes later, he wore a set of delightfully dull coveralls and pushed a handcart piled high with her treasures. She led the way, glancing around the outpost at the green doorways to weigh her options, until a voice came over the central intercom and interrupted her thoughts.
“Passenger Spaulding,” came the announcement. “Please report to your ship.”
Solara’s heart dropped into her pants. How had the Zenith discovered Doran’s absence so quickly? Jerking her gaze to the nearest green doorway, she told him, “That one!” She jogged ahead of him to the corridor and punched the contact button while scanning the temporary sign affixed to the wall.
SS BANSHEE. CAPTAIN PHINEAS ROSSI,
SOLE PROPRIETOR.
RING BELL FOR INQUIRIES.
NO SOLICITING—UNLESS YOU’RE
SELLING SUGAR GLIDERS.
There was no information on the ship’s make or model, and Solara had never heard of a sugar glider. But beggars couldn’t be choosy. She pushed the button a few more times and peered across the expansive hub at the Zenith’s boarding doorway, where two stewards argued with each other. Probably debating how much longer to wait before dispatching a search team. Solara’s pulse skipped, and she pushed the button again.
Footsteps clamored from inside the boarding corridor, and a boy’s furious voice echoed, “Enough! I cranking heard you the first time!” He appeared wearing a scowl that instantly softened when he noticed her. With wheat-brown eyes the exact shade of his skin, he moved his gaze over her from head to toe while a lopsided grin curved his lips. Then he dipped his blond head, sending dreadlocks spilling over both shoulders. “Pardon my language,” he said. “I didn’t realize I was in the presence of a beautiful lady.”
No one had ever called Solara beautiful before, nor a lady, but the compliment didn’t touch her. She had known others like him—gorgeous and cunning boys with the same impish twinkle in their eyes. They understood how to twist a girl’s heart using nothing but words.
But not her heart.
“Passage for two to the outer realm,” she said coolly.
At the same time, Doran and the boy repeated, “The outer realm?”
“I thought we were going to the Obsidian Beaches,” Doran said.
“That’s right,” she corrected. “The Obsidian Beaches, then the outer realm.” She remembered the lie she’d told about her overprotective father. “I only contracted you as far as the beaches. Once we’re there, I’ll find another indenture to take me the rest of the way.”
The blond boy stared at her as if she’d grown a third eye. “That won’t be cheap.”
“I can pay you in credits,” she said. “Or fuel chips.”
“We prefer chips.”
“How much?”
“At least two thousand per person, probably more.”
“I’ll give you twice that if we can leave now.”
Fair brows shot up his forehead. He raised an index finger. “Wait here. The captain has to approve all passengers.” Before she could ask him to make an exception, he turned and ran down the boarding corridor.