She sniffed the air and picked up the acrid scents of dried onion and cumin. The crew probably ate a lot of chili. “That’s all right,” she told him. “I’m not picky.”
“I knew I liked you for a reason.” He winked, then flashed a toothy grin that slowly faded when she didn’t reciprocate. Clearing his throat, he turned to continue the tour. Only then did Solara set a smile free. It had to be killing him that she didn’t respond to his charms.
“That’s the crew’s storage hold,” he said, pointing to a metal door on the right. “And the washroom’s up there at the base of the stairs. Water’s in short supply, so you’re allowed one shower a week. In between, stick to sponge baths.”
She nodded. It’d been the same at the group home.
They climbed the stairs to the residential level, where Doran sat on the lounge floor, counting out ten thousand fuel chips. The room was so unusual that it stopped Solara short at the threshold.
“Wow,” she breathed, unable to hide her amazement.
Instead of flaking gray walls, the space was surrounded by murals depicting an alpine landscape of dark evergreens. In keeping with the forest theme, a cluster of chairs encircled a holographic fire pit, and on the opposite wall she noticed a shelf of books—real books, the kind nobody printed anymore. On the other end of the room stood a multipurpose gaming table much like the ones in the group home, though this set probably wasn’t missing half of its billiard balls. Beside it, she spotted a small cage with a dormant hamster wheel and bedding made from old rags. But whatever creature had lived there was gone. She recalled the sugar glider mentioned on the sign and figured the ship mascot had died.
Kane pointed at the murals. “It’s the Black Forest,” he said. “Or at least how the captain remembered it from when he was a boy. He says it’s mostly gone now.” Kane shrugged. “I didn’t grow up on Earth, so I wouldn’t know. Anyway, this is where we spend most of our time.”
“I can see why. It’s an amazing room.”
Doran shushed them from his spot on the floor. “Three thousand, two hundred and fifty-seven,” he said, and pushed another coin into the massive pile he’d built. He glanced up and greeted Solara with narrowed eyes. “I unpacked your things, but I still haven’t found our contract.”
“It’ll turn up,” she promised. “How’s your head?”
He didn’t seem to appreciate the change in topic but grumbled, “Fine. The tonic is still working.”
“You shouldn’t sleep in long stretches tonight, just in case you have a concussion.”
At the warning, he rubbed a nervous hand over his scalp.
“I’ll wake you,” she said. “Every hour, on the hour.”
“Are you sure?”
“Believe me, it’s the least I can do.”
When she left to resume the tour, she heard a coin scrape across the metal floor, followed by Doran’s count of “Three thousand, two hundred and…and…”
“Fifty-eight,” Kane supplied. “But why aren’t you—”
“No,” Solara interrupted before he could suggest that Doran use the currency scale. “I thought it was twenty-eight,” she lied. “Make sure you get it right. The captain won’t appreciate us shorting him.”
“Well, I’m sure as hell not starting over,” Doran snapped.
“Excuse me?” she said. “I don’t think I heard you right.”
Doran mumbled a word that would make an escort blush, followed by “One”—scrape—“two”—scrape—“three…”
This trip was going to be fun.
“The ship’s quarters are down here,” Kane said. “We all double up, even the captain and the first mate.” He made an apologetic face and opened the last door in the hallway. “This is the only room we have left.”
At first, Solara didn’t see the problem. The space was clean and bright with stark-white walls and a double bed situated in the corner—lavish when compared to her narrow cot at the group home.
Kane scratched the back of his neck and took a sudden interest in his shoes. “I don’t know what kind of relationship you have with your servant.…”
“Oh.” Now she understood. “Not the kind you’re thinking of.” She’d rather sleep with the crusty old captain than share a bed with Doran. “It’s not a problem. He can take the floor.”
Satisfied, Kane turned back down the hallway and climbed the steps to the bridge at the top level. This area was narrower than down below, its ceiling tapered to a point so the only place she could stand without hunching over was in the middle of the room. To the left, a tall brown-haired man with glasses teetering on the tip of his nose was bent over a metal table that had been fused to the wall. About thirty years old, he appeared to be studying solar charts.
He met her gaze and grinned—a real smile that reflected in his eyes. It’d been so long since Solara had seen a gleam of genuine kindness that her heart melted, and she liked him at once.