Nightchaser

by Amanda Bouchet

  “Factor in five hundred a day for labor,” he finally said, “and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

  I breathed through the panic of my rapidly depleting funds and did the math in my head. I had that much. There would be next to nothing left over, but I could pay his fee. And five hundred units a day for some pretty hard and heavy labor wasn’t unreasonable.

  Finally, I nodded in agreement. “How long do you think it’ll take?” Not more than a week. Please don’t say more than a week. And even that long in one place seemed awfully dangerous. What if Bridgebane found out we were still alive? With the lab intact? Being on the run required the ability to actually move.

  Shade looked at the ship again, his eyes sweeping over the partially blown-out hull. He scratched at the dark stubble that had sprung up on his jaw overnight. “All week.” His laser stare cut back to me. “And I’ll need to hire someone to help me lift the tiles into place.”

  A glance toward the two tiles Shade had brought up on a hover crate confirmed that they were thick metal monsters. Just what I needed. “I—”

  He shook his head, cutting me off. “Not you. You look plenty capable, cupcake, but you’re not strong enough to lift this stuff.”

  “I know.” My glare and tone hopefully conveyed just how much I loved being cut off. And called cupcake. “I have someone who can help. He’s very big and strong,” I added, just in case Shade needed convincing.

  Something flashed in his eyes. Annoyance? Did Shade Ganavan like being the biggest and strongest around? Well, too bad. I had Jax.

  Frowning slightly, Shade moved between the ship and me and then ran his fingers over what was left of the ragged edge of the outer starboard door. “What the hell happened here? Has this been…sawed?”

  He glared at me over his shoulder.

  Geez. Really not a morning person.

  I shrugged. “Might’ve been.”

  Turning, he leaned against the doorframe and stared at me. I stared back. We did a lot of that. It was very awkward—at least for me.

  “Can you fix it?” I finally asked.

  He shook his head, pushing off from the ship and pointing to different parts of the messed-up door panels. “A patch won’t work here. Or here. You need a whole new door.”

  Dismay settled in my stomach like lead. “I can’t afford that.”

  “Your ship’s useless then. The other repairs won’t matter without a door.”

  I swallowed. What did I have that was worth something? What could I sell or… “I can barter with food,” I said. Nothing we had was fancy, but we had a big supply, all of it purloined and military issue. I felt no guilt whatsoever. The galactic government wouldn’t let its soldiers starve.

  “Do I look like I’m hungry?” Shade countered.

  My nostrils flared. Fine. “I’ll fly with just the safety door, then.”

  “No, you won’t.”

  My head jerked back and down into my neck, probably making me look at lot like a turtle. I’d read about turtles. Hadn’t seen one yet. “I won’t?”

  “An inner door is to provide an air lock and to hold you together in an emergency until you can get the outer door fixed. It’s not meant to take reentries and jumps on a regular basis.”

  I knew that. Did he think I didn’t?

  Shaking my head, I shrugged. “No choice.”

  Shade lifted one hand and rubbed the back of his neck, just like Jax did when he was torn about something. “I can get you a door at half price,” he eventually said.

  My heart wound up like a crazy clock in my chest. “Really? That’s amazing!” I could make that work. I hated to do it, but I could sell the precious books I had in my possession instead of giving them to the Intergalactic Library like I’d planned. If I found the right buyer for the books, and if the door was really half-price, we could be up and flying out of here in a week. And I’d still have the food for the Outer Zone colonies. When it came down to it, I’d rather keep the provisions than the books. It wasn’t even a choice.

  Shade looked away from my big, fat, grateful smile as though it offended him or something. I felt it die on my lips.

  A little stung but still appreciative of the generous offer on the door, I moved to the edge of our docking platform and looked out over Albion City. A sprawling latticework of tall buildings spread endlessly before me, all soaring metal, polished stone, and bright, shiny glass.

  The morning sun reflected off the millions of windows, almost blinding me. I wondered about all the people behind those windows, about their daily lives. So different from mine. And probably from each other’s as well.

  The Sector 2 city looked settled, maybe even like a nice place to live, if you could deal with the regular Dark Watch patrols. Then again, those were everywhere, from the mansion-lined avenues of Sector 12 to the crumbling slums of the far reaches of the galaxy. I only knew of one place where the Dark Watch couldn’t come knocking—and that was because they didn’t know it was there.

  A ship could slip completely out of sight in the Fold, and if we’d had enough power left yesterday, I would have tried to find it instead of diving headfirst into the Black Widow. In retrospect, I should have gone there first and avoided the whole chase, but I’d always managed to outrun the Dark Watch before, and I’d had no idea how important the lab was, or how vigorously the military would come after it.

  It didn’t help that the Fold was a bitch to find, even for those who knew how to look. I never would have known about the rebel hideaway if Jax and Fiona hadn’t trusted me with the secret first. No one found the Fold unless they were brought there. And enemies that somehow made it in on rebel ships… They didn’t come out again.

  The pocket between the stars knew how to protect itself, and for some, it turned into a one-way trip. Others were born, lived, and died there, their existences revolving around a single cause. The Fold was home to them, the only safe one around, but it was just an occasional stopover for Nightchasers like us, rebels running people and supplies around the Dark.

  Thinking in terms of a safe place to dock made me want to do a quick flyby of Starway 8, but unless I had something vital to contribute to the huge galactic orphanage, I would never risk drawing the military there. Kids liked to run their mouths, and that never ended well. And Mareeka was too much of a rebel at heart to ever let the children under her care get pushed around by the Overseer’s goons. Publicly, she dotted her i’s and crossed her t’s, and the Dark Watch patrols mostly left her alone.

  And it was a damn good thing. If my father knew even half of what went on in that place—the chaos and joy and illicit learning of the old texts—he’d probably blow the whole orphanage up, kids and all.

  Looking down from our Squirrel Tree perch, I sniffed the quickly warming air, which was already thickening with the brighter light of the climbing sun and with the droning sounds of the city waking up around us. It was going to turn into another hot day on Albion 5, but at least it didn’t smell half bad here.

  I lifted both arms above my head and stretched, trying to work out the muscle kinks sleeping on my hard, thin mattress had left. When I turned back around, Shade’s eyes darted quickly away, as if he’d been watching me.

  Heat stole through me. I wished I could figure him out.

  Jax’s head poked out from the open doorway. “Coffee’s ready, Tess.” He scowled at me. “Please come away from the edge.”

  I immediately moved closer to the ship. I knew how it freaked Jax out when I spacewalked or went anywhere near someplace where there was even a remote possibility of my falling off or slipping away or simply…being lost.

  “You must be the muscle Tess was talking about,” Shade said.

  Jaxon turned his head. “You must be the guy with the parts.”

  The Shade from yesterday would have at least smirked at the guy with the parts. Today, all he did was hold out his han
d to Jax, and the two men shook.

  “Do you want to come in for some breakfast?” I asked Shade.

  “No, thanks. I’m going to take stock of the damage again,” he answered. “Start making a plan.”

  It should have sounded good to me that he was serious and getting straight to work. Instead, an odd feeling of disappointment seized the place that should have been for relief.

  Nodding, I said, “Just call out if you change your mind.”

  “I already ate,” Shade answered.

  Well. That was final.

  And I shouldn’t have cared. I was out of here in a week.

  I reached up, and Jaxon gripped my wrists and easily lifted me back onto the ship. If Shade had needed a demonstration of Jax’s strength, he’d gotten one. Not many people could haul a nearly six-foot woman straight up.

  Together, Jax and I headed for the smell of strong coffee. Jax made the best cups.

  We met Fiona in the entranceway to the kitchen. Her hair was still damp from her shower, and she looked fresher than I’d felt in days. It had been her turn today. Miko was next. I’d get a shower again after that.

  Maybe Shade knew where to buy half-priced water and discounted recycling tanks. In the meantime, luckily for all of us and our noses, extra-strength deodorant was cheap.

  “Who’s the tall set of muscles poking around our ship?” Fiona asked me with a bit of a grin.

  “Shade Ganavan.”

  Her eyebrows slowly went up. “Got anything more to say about that?”

  I fought my own grin and started with the most obvious. “Easily six foot two, two hundred pounds, dark-brown hair, light-brown eyes, flirty in the afternoon, grumpy in the morning.”

  Fiona laughed. “Maybe he needs some coffee.”

  Maybe. Or some rest. The guy looked like he hadn’t slept a wink. He definitely hadn’t changed his clothes or shaved.

  Something uncomfortable slid sideways through my chest. Had he flirted with me and then gone off and been with some other woman all night?

  I forced the slight pang to keep going and slide right on out. None of my business.

  Miko had eggs, bacon, and potatoes on the table for her and Shiori already. Jax was pouring the coffee for everyone, so I got his, Fiona’s, and my plates while Fiona peeled our daily orange and doled out the parts.

  Oranges were often hard to split evenly into five, and if there was an extra wedge, Fiona always made sure that Shiori got it. Grandmother was the only one who couldn’t see that she was getting more than the rest of us, and no one ever told her.

  “So how much are the repairs going to cost us?” Jax asked.

  I told them, and everyone stopped eating. They’d go back to their meals eventually, but for the moment, they were absorbing the fact that our safe was about to get cleaned out.

  “Are you sure this guy’s prices are reasonable?” Miko asked. “Maybe you should shop around before you let him get started.”

  The idea of making multiple inquiries left me uneasy. The less any of us talked to other people or walked around Albion City—or anywhere, for that matter—the better. I was already going to have to go down to street level again to try to sell those books. I just hoped there were some people on Albion 5 who still liked reading old tomes. Even though the official ban had finally been lifted on many of the surviving texts, most people were still too nervous to pick up anything without the galactic seal of approval on it. Approved books were all propaganda-filled, glory-to-the-Overseer, brainwashing hogwash, but at least they didn’t get you harassed.

  “It’s a little steep,” I answered about Shade’s pricing. “But I don’t think I’ll find much better anywhere else on this rock.”

  Jaxon agreed, and he knew metal and labor costs even better than I did.

  “Besides,” I added. “Shade offered to find us a new armored door for half price.”

  They all stopped eating again. Jax looked at me as if I’d lost my mind.

  I frowned. “What?”

  “A guy doesn’t just give you an armored door,” he said.

  “I didn’t say he was giving it to me. I said it would be half price.”

  “It’s practically the same thing,” he muttered, setting his coffee mug down a little too forcefully. “There must be something wrong with him. Or…” Jax’s eyes narrowed on me.

  “What?” I asked again.

  “We’re leaving this place, Tess. Don’t get attached.”

  I did that turtle thing again. Turtles were on to something with their retractable heads. “You’re crazy, Jax. I don’t even know the guy.”

  “If he’s giving you a deal like that on a reinforced door, he wants to know you.”

  Low down, my belly clenched. Is that true?

  “And what’s the harm in that?” Fiona asked. She pushed her untouched mug toward me. “Why don’t you take him a cup of coffee and see what you think of him.”

  Jaxon swung an incredulous look on Fiona. “Don’t encourage her, Fi!”

  Fiona rolled her eyes, somehow managing to make her ponytail swing without even moving her head. “Just because you never want to see anyone again in your whole life apart from the four of us doesn’t mean that Tess has to stay shut up in this metal box.”

  True. Although I liked my metal box.

  Jax waved a hand through the air, whispering, “Everyone out there is looking for us.”

  “Not everyone, Jaxon.” Fiona met his dark eyes with some pretty fierce eyes of her own. They were green, like her plants. “And not everyone is looking to take her from you. From us.”

  He quietly set down his fork and sat back in his chair when I thought what he really wanted to do was throw the utensil across the kitchen and break his plate. “You never know when they’ll strike,” Jax said so flatly it hurt my heart.

  “You’re right. They could strike anytime,” Fiona agreed quickly. “That’s all the more reason to live!”

  Jax flinched, and Fiona looked momentarily horrified, as though she feared she’d gone too far.

  “We’re careful, Jax. We’re all careful,” I said, although I didn’t know if I should have been soothing him or helping Fiona to rile him up. I was pretty sure some smashed dishes and an explosive bellow would have done him a galaxy of good. Sometimes, I wished he would fill his lungs with his pain and fury and shake the ship with them.

  “Good,” he finally answered, his face turning into a wall—flat and blank.

  Fiona’s expression went in the opposite direction, bursting with emotion, and they stared at each other for a moment before Jax disconnected, shifting his gaze to the side.

  Sadness crept through me, and irrepressible Fiona suddenly drooped, although she probably thought she was hiding it. Some things were only secrets here because nobody talked about them, and I wanted to scream at Jax to look right in front of him, instead of behind.

  “You know who Tess is now.” Jax picked up the conversation again in a monotone that reminded me of the grieving man on the Mile, the one who might never let himself get over his dead wife. “There isn’t a single person alive who doesn’t know who she is.”

  “Yeah. And they all think she’s been dead for the last eighteen years,” Fiona shot back.

  “That’s a good point,” I said. Everyone in the galaxy thought I’d died from the same mysterious fever that had taken my mother, when in fact, I’d never been sick a day in my life. Not even when the other children in the orphanage had been dropping all around me, killed off by infections and diseases with cures.

  “There are more people searching for our Tess than for a ghost,” Shiori said, looking across the table at Fiona but not quite hitting her mark. Her milky eyes landed somewhere between Fiona and me.

  “Exactly,” Jaxon agreed, turning a pointed look my way. His expression regained only enough life to look satisfied tha
t Shiori had helped prove his point. “People everywhere—looking for Tess.”

  Well, I doubted that Shade Ganavan, Space Rogue, was one of them. And I hardly thought Tess was that important. The great rebel wheel was full of cogs, and I hardly signified. At most, I was worth a lethal injection, and the Overseer had plenty of those.

  That said, I didn’t want to get caught. But I also wouldn’t stop doing what I needed to do just because I feared the possible consequences. Fear was something I could accept. Abandoning the galaxy to a group of despots was not.

  “I have a plan for how to pay for the repairs.” I stood up, finishing my portion of the orange and then grabbing Fiona’s and my mugs. “Thanks, Fi.”

  She nodded since she was chewing her food.

  “Tess…”

  I turned back to Jax from the doorway, the two mugs in my hands, and gave him my most reassuring smile. He’d lost his sister to the heat and murderous roar of the galactic military’s flamethrowers that day, too. She’d been visiting, helping out with the newborn.

  Some days, I thought he forgot I wasn’t her. Most days, I was glad he thought I was.

  “Don’t worry, partner. I’ll be careful. He knows this place, and I have to pick his brain about where to sell some rare books.”

  Jax pressed his lips together and didn’t say anything else. It was Miko who surprised me, because I knew she’d dropped out of the conversation and crawled into herself the moment Fiona and Jax had hinted at Shade wanting anything more from me than universal currency. Miko liked to pretend that no one ever had urges, because they scared her half to death. If I were ever to take up praying again, I’d pray that someone, someday, could show Miko that intimacy could involve tenderness instead of violence.

  “He used to kick his dogs.” She looked my way, but I didn’t think she was seeing me, or any of us. “Why would anyone kick a dog, Tess?”

  My chest tightened as I shook my head. He’d kicked Miko, too, I’d have bet. I was glad the bastard was dead. “I don’t know. There’s no reason for that.”

  “Don’t trust anyone you think would kick a dog,” Miko said.