Starflight (Starflight, #1)(9)
“Our relationship is simple,” she told him. “I say ‘Jump,’ and you say ‘Through which window, Miss Brooks?’ You don’t make demands of me. Are we clear?”
Instead of answering, he cringed and used his free hand to grip his temples. Solara decided not to press the issue, because it wasn’t any fun taking Doran down a peg when he was in so much pain. But that didn’t mean she would let him order her around. She was the master now…for as long as this farce lasted.
Once the tightness faded from Doran’s mouth, he gave a slow nod.
Solara was about to tell him not to let it happen again when he loosened his grip around her shoulder and whispered, “Please.” He swallowed hard and begged with those big blue eyes. “Please don’t leave me here.”
All the air trickled out of her lungs.
“Take me to the beaches,” he said, blinking down at her. “I won’t cause any trouble.”
How did he do that?
A minute ago she wanted to break his jaw, and now she had to fight the urge to pat him on the head and give him a cookie. That had to be some kind of superpower. She finally understood how he got everything he wanted in life.
Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to bring him along. The outpost wasn’t the safest place to strand someone with neuro-poisoning, and if she sent him back to the Zenith, the crew would find out what she’d done. Plus, traveling with Doran would allow her more access to his credit in case of an emergency. As an added bonus, she’d get to make him polish her boots and wash her socks—maybe wake him up in the middle of the night to fetch her a glass of water, too.
She smiled just thinking about it.
“All right,” she said, figuring she’d already dug herself a deep-enough hole, so she might as well keep on digging. What was one more felony? Doran’s memory wouldn’t return for at least another day. She could always ditch him then, or stun him again. “We’ll go together.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. I’m sure you’ll make it up to me.” She hid a grin and paused to take in her surroundings.
Thanks to movie nights at the group home, she knew that each space station was modeled the same. Along the perimeter, narrow corridors led to the ships docked outside. If the doorway glowed green, it meant a vessel was available for hire. A glance around the hub showed only three green doors, fewer than she had hoped but better than none. The center of the outpost was a wide floor dotted with freestanding vendor booths, an open setup that made it easier for security to keep watch from their platform overhead. Only two structures in the outpost offered the concealment of four walls and a roof: the automated mall, where valuable commodities were kept, and the bordello, where she probably would’ve ended up if Doran had succeeded in abandoning her.
Solara slid a glare at him.
Suddenly she didn’t feel so guilty about spending his money. But first she had to gain entry to the automated mall. No one was allowed inside until proving they had credits to use, which she could only do by scanning Doran’s bracelet along with his handprint. After that, she’d be free to buy whatever she needed without scanning him again.
“I want you to come with me to the auto mall,” she told him. “There’s probably a med-pod in there. We’ll buy something to settle your stomach before we board the ship.”
He answered with a nod, and she tightened her hold around his waist while they crossed the floor. To avoid drawing attention, she kept her stride casual and leaned into Doran’s body as if she couldn’t get enough of him. She hoped they looked like a couple, as much as that made her want to retch.
When they reached the auto mall, she placed his palm on the security pad and scanned her bracelet, thankful he was too woozy to notice. Then the doors parted, and she led the way into the market of her dreams.
She’d never seen the inside of an auto mall—or any mall for that matter—but she imagined this was what heaven looked like. Rows of luxuries spread out before her: delicate candies, silken robes, insulated spacesuits, medicines, tools, and even Spaulding fuel chips. She’d hoped to find the chips here, because those slow-burning ore coins were the most useful currency in the galaxy. She was going to buy as many as she could carry.
After she peeled Doran off her.
She helped him to the medical pod in the far corner, a computerized chair behind a thin metal screen that offered patients the illusion of privacy. He lowered to the seat, and she strapped a belt around his chest and lap, making sure to position the buckles behind the seat, where he couldn’t reach them. If his memory returned, at least he’d be trapped here for a while. Attached to the chair was a small screen that read, TOUCH HERE TO BEGIN TREATMENT.
“Let’s see,” she said, scrolling through the medicinal offerings. “Custom-made tonics.” She tapped the corresponding button and asked Doran to describe his symptoms. As he spoke, she clicked HEADACHE, NAUSEA, and DIZZINESS.
A computerized voice droned, “Please provide one hundred credits.”
Doran looked at his wristband. “Do I have that much?”
“Probably not.” Solara lightly patted his cheek while scanning her bracelet. “But lucky for you, I take care of my employees.” When the pod dispensed a cup of clear, fizzy liquid, she chirped, “Bottoms up.”
She stepped out from behind the screen and headed straight for the fuel chips. It wouldn’t take long for Doran to finish his seltzer, and then they needed to go. Each second they spent here was a risk.