No one stood out any more than I did, and I realized that we’d all perfected the art of blending in and avoiding notice. Maybe Hourglass Mile had nothing to do with it, because the whole galaxy was a freaking jail. Not everyone needed bars to be locked up, and what I saw around me was evidence of entire populations falling into complacency for the sake of personal peace.
Because there was peace—for most. It was drab, dry, and sterile, and often a little scary when the Dark Watch was around, but not everyone wanted to be washed in color, especially if it was the purple-yellow of bruises, or the red of blood.
A good portion of the galaxy had already tried that—and lost to Overseer brown.
Only the Dark Watch generals wore crimson now, and it was hard not to read massacres into that. I was pretty sure their uniforms were meant to remind the entire galaxy of how the war had finally ended with the near-total destruction of the Outer Zones.
The crowd that had gathered for the announcement thinned, and the overhead street lamps got brighter as I moved farther into Windrow, their cozy pale-yellow glow driving some of the darkness and anger from my thoughts. The neighborhood was tucking itself in for the night, with shops and businesses closing at street level and turning off their lights. The number of pedestrians steadily diminished, while small personal cruisers and public shuttles started accumulating overhead, their safety lights flashing and their engines droning with a calming buzz.
Turning a corner, I found myself alone on a quiet street and tilted my head back, watching the tall buildings brighten toward the tops. Windows were lighting up throughout the residential towers, blazing warmly as people returned from their jobs and settled into their home lives. A gentle breeze swirled down the street from behind me, and I drew in a breath that tasted of humidity and summer. We tended to forget about seasons on board the Endeavor.
Determined to enjoy the rest of my walk on such a warm, pleasant evening, I steered my crate around a bunch of cats all lazing on a quiet section of the sidewalk. They made me smile, even though the big dark-gray one eyeing me looked as though he would give me one hell of a fight if I disturbed them.
Cooking smells snuck down a side street and made my mouth water. A cat meowed. Music came from somewhere. It was too bad we had to leave Albion 5 so quickly. I wasn’t quite sure why exactly, but I liked this place better than I’d liked any planet in a while.
Maybe it was Susan and her devotion to old books, or the anonymity of a huge city, where I could both hide and get lost. Maybe it was the warmth and sunshine and the infinite adorableness of Bonk.
Or maybe it was Shade Ganavan, Space Rogue, the first man in ages I’d wanted to undress.
Walking steadily but without hurrying, I mulled over the disappointing unlikelihood of undressing Shade, given that he hadn’t made a single move in that direction the previous night. I’d thought he might, that he’d been about to, but then he’d gone quiet at the end of our outing and quickly dropped me off.
I would get over it. I’d certainly gotten over worse.
I eventually reached the bookstore and quietly knocked, since the lights were dimmed and the door was locked. Susan opened up for me, took one look at my large hover crate, and directed me around to the back.
Once there, I steered the crate through a double-sized loading door and into a mostly empty storeroom, let it touch down, and powered off. Susan closed and locked the door again, and I finally relaxed. I was off the streets. I’d arrived without incident.
Susan shifted from foot to foot, seeming giddy with anticipation and looking ready to tear open the crate. Her eyes shone brightly under the harsh overhead lighting, and her sunburst hair bounced. Her eagerness put a smile on my face and fed my own excitement now that I wasn’t so anxious. I’d already looked at the books myself, but now I could share them with someone who cared and who would appreciate them just as much as I did.
I punched in the security code I’d set earlier and then pushed the button that would retract the door. Susan immediately leaned closer to see what was inside.
“Can I help you unload?” I asked, stepping back to give her more room.
She nodded, and we took turns taking the books out and stacking them into the empty bookcase that Susan had made available for them.
I’d managed to read a few of the novels before we’d stumbled onto the floating lab and all hell had broken loose, but they were new to Susan, and she looked reverently at each one, treating them like the historical treasures they were. It was our duty to preserve them. Humanity had a rich past that spanned time and planets and that the Overseer was trying to beat out of hearts and memories because it didn’t serve his goals.
“Great Powers,” she said in awe, holding up a dark leather-covered tome with gold lettering. The edges of the thick paper were browning and not quite smooth, as though they hadn’t been cut by a machine. It was clearly ancient, probably from a place the book had outlived by far. I’d admired it as well, when I’d discovered it in my haul.
“I never thought I’d see something like this in my whole life. I think…” She looked over at me, the book clutched like a baby against her chest. I could have sworn there were tears in her eyes. “I think this book alone is worth more than the five thousand you asked.”
Despite Susan’s obvious distress, her words took a big load of guilt off my chest. I’d been feeling awful for taking advantage of her preserver’s spirit and charging her so much.
I unloaded another book and slipped it onto the shelf. It was actually a lot more than a simple bookshelf; it was a maximum security safe with temperature and humidity controls. Perfect for old books. Much better than the Endeavor’s cargo hold.
“Then it’s a good thing I’m leaving it here with you, where I know it’ll be safe,” I said.
I’d meant to reassure her, but her expression just fell even further. “You’re in danger, aren’t you?”
I shrugged, letting my own fear and habitual stress roll off my shoulders for Susan’s sake. “Always.”
“Then you should charge someone more for this.” She tried to hand the priceless book back to me, but I didn’t reach for it. “Maybe the money could help you…get away.”
I kept unpacking books for her, knowing she’d take her time discovering them all later. “If you want to, you can give that one to the Intergalactic Library. That’s what I was going to do with all of them.” I bit my lip, wishing I hadn’t said that. I was taking advantage of her. “If I didn’t have to pay for major repairs on my ship, I’d give them to you. I wish I could.”
Susan looked so torn that I knew I had to ask for something in return, or I’d have a real argument on my hands.
“What’s your personal water situation like?” I asked, breezing into a new subject like the previous one was already closed.
Her distraught expression blanked for a moment as she processed the sudden switch. “Good. My drain and refresh happened just last week.” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial level. “And my tank is three cubes bigger than anyone realizes.”
Nice. Water that hadn’t been filtered a gazillion times over AND three cubes for free. “Well, if you really want to give me something more in exchange for that nice book, I could definitely use a shower.”
Susan scoffed. “That’s hardly equivalent.”
“But it’s the only thing I need. And you can also consider Bonk as prepayment,” I added. “He’s like a dose of happiness in a cuddly, purring package.”
A small laugh bubbled out of her. “Of course. You’re welcome to use my shower.”
I smiled. “I’ll need soap, shampoo, and a towel, too.” Too bad I hadn’t brought clean clothes with me. Although mine weren’t dirty. In fact, they were mostly brand new.
“You drive a hard bargain—” She frowned suddenly. “I don’t even know your name.”
My heart blasted off like a rocket. We hadn’t done names. I only knew hers from hearing the Dark Watch talk and speaking with Shade.
I sometimes joked in my head about wanting to tell people who I was, but I never really meant it. I’d told Jax early on because we’d both been in such bad shape when we’d met that we’d latched on to each other like lifelines, and there hadn’t been room in that rawness, fear, and pain for anything but the truth. I’d spent five years with the rest of my crew and only told them who I was the moment I thought we were all about to die. In a way, Bridgebane had forced it out of me, even though his threats were what had kept me silent in the first place.