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