Starflight by Melissa Landers Read Free Book Online Page A

it was.
    “Is that the
Banshee
’s tracker?” she asked. “Removed from its port?”
    Renny and Kane shared a knowing look before the first mate tucked the item back inside his pocket. “Yes,” he said. “It’s broken.”
    Solara didn’t believe him. Trackers withstood even the worst collisions, and it was illegal to remove one from its designated port. The only reason to do that was if someone didn’t want to be found. Not that she was complaining. She didn’t want to be found, either. But regardless, she resolved to bolt her bedroom door that night.
    Clearly she wasn’t the only one with secrets.

D inner consisted of dried beans stewed in rehydrated tomatoes. Solara could tell the food was reconstituted because of the rare times when farmers had donated fresh, albeit half-rotted, produce to the diocese. Even bruised and overripe, tomatoes in their natural state were bursting with a sweetness and tang that the dehydrating process couldn’t capture. Still, she ate her supper without complaining. It was better than soy-meal, a cheap oat hybrid that tasted like dishwater.
    The captain frowned at the untouched bowl of beans next to hers. “Where’s your indenture? Everyone eats—”
    “Together,” she finished, avoiding his black gaze. She’d discerned that his eyes were real, but looking into them still made her uneasy. “I told him.”
    Doran joined them soon afterward, announcing his presence by dropping a sack of fuel chips on the floor. “It’s all there,” he said, and blew out a breath. “Ten thousand. I counted them myself.”
    “Counted them?” the captain asked. “Why didn’t you use the machine?”
    Doran froze. “What machine?”
    “The trading scale,” Kane supplied from the far end of the bench. “We’d never get anything done if we hand-counted chips. I told Lara about it.”
    While Doran glared at her, Solara explained, “But they’re not always calibrated just right. I wanted to make sure the captain has his due.”
    With a disbelieving grunt, Doran took his seat. He glanced at his beans and then peered around the table as if looking for something. “Where’s the main course?”
    “This is it,” she said.
    “But there’s no meat.”
    Solara turned to face him, stunned by the sense of entitlement that transcended his memory loss. It must be nice to afford so much animal protein that he expected to have it served at every supper. “If it’s not to your liking,” she told him, “the rest of us can divide your share.”
    Clearly he was hungry, because he curled a protective arm around his bowl.
    “Now that we’re all here, we can get started,” the captain said. “Whose turn is it?”
    “For what?” Doran asked.
    “To ask ‘would you rather,’” Cassia said, blotting her lips with a cloth napkin. “We play every night.” She dismissed him with a flick of her wrist and turned to Kane. “Would you rather know the date of your death or the cause of it?”
    “Can I change the circumstances of my death?” Kane asked.
    “Of course not.”
    “Then the date,” Kane quickly decided. “What’s the point of knowing the cause if I can’t change anything? That’s a weak question.”
    Solara agreed with him, but she wasn’t about to say so and risk Cassia’s wrath. When it came to venom, the scorpions in Texas had nothing on this girl.
    “Some people might want to know,” Cassia argued. “So they’re not always worrying about it.”
    “Who wastes their time worrying about how they’re going to croak?” Kane shoveled a heaping spoonful of beans into his mouth and spoke with one cheek full. “Weak.”
    Cassia landed an elbow in his side. “Let’s hear you do better.”
    “Fine,” he told her, but Renny cut him off with a lifted hand.
    “It’s my turn,” Renny said. “And I’ve got a good one.” After a dramatic pause, he smiled at everyone and asked, “Would you rather find the love of your life, or ten million credits?”
    At once, everyone