Chapter 1 #3
"Craig will show you where it is." She was already turning back toward the refugees. "I've got to get these folks settled, then head over and check on the Space Pearls construction. I'll see you later."
She disappeared back into the organized chaos, leaving me standing with Munroe.
"Come on," he said, jerking his head toward a path that led away from the landing pad. "Let's get you settled."
I grabbed my kit from the Veridian Dawn—light, since I hadn't planned on an extended stay—and followed him down the path.
It wound through the wheat fields I'd spotted from the air, the stalks heavy with grain and rustling in a breeze that smelled like Earth.
Like the memories I had of Earth, anyway.
Like the world she lived in, breathing the same air, walking under the same sun, completely unaware that somewhere in the galaxy an alien warrior carried her memory like a sacred flame.
"How long have you been here?" I asked, shoving the thought away.
"Eight years." His voice carried contentment. "I was a cop back on Earth when I got abducted. The Trogvyk grabbed me right after I got shot by a drug dealer. Honestly, I'm grateful. If they hadn't abducted me and run me through the Garoot Healer, I'd be dead now."
The path opened onto a small village. Not a colony installation, not a settlement—a village.
Earth-style houses with front porches and flower boxes.
A central square with benches and trees.
Solar panels were cleverly integrated into rooflines, but otherwise, it could have been transplanted from Earth.
We walked past the main hall, a large building with wide windows and smoke rising from a chimney and continued down a side street. A neat white house sat at the end, separated from its neighbors by a small garden bursting with what looked like tomatoes and peppers.
Behind it, barely visible through the lush garden, sat a small cottage.
The path continued past the main house, winding between raised beds thick with leafy greens and climbing vines heavy with beans.
The cottage itself was charming—stone foundation, wooden siding painted a soft cream color, a peaked roof with moss creeping up one side.
Flowers I didn't recognize spilled from window boxes, their petals a riot of purples and yellows.
"That's where you'll be staying," Munroe said, gesturing toward the cottage.
We followed the garden path, my boots crunching on gravel between the beds. The plants were healthy, well-tended, arranged with both practicality and aesthetics in mind. A small arbor covered in flowering vines created a natural archway just before the cottage door.
"Mei Lin's a botanist," Craig told me as we reached the front door. "She's good with plants." He pushed the door open, and we stepped inside.
The space was simple but comfortable. The kitchen was compact but functional, the living area had a couch that might actually fit me, and through an open doorway, I noticed a bed that looked plenty big enough.
"Bathroom's through there," Munroe said, pointing. "Anything else you need, just ask."
I set my kit down and turned to face him. "This is more than I expected. Thank you."
"Like Mei said, the guest house was just sitting here." He grinned. "Besides, maybe you can give me some insight into that mess with Declan Hewes. We get news out here, but it's always delayed. Is it true a Romvesian prince broke him out?"
"It is." I leaned against the kitchen counter. "The Historia is still tracking them."
"That's bold, even for the Romvesians." His expression turned serious. "Hewes is bad news. What he did to humans..."
"I know." The words came out hard. Hewes had been running illegal human trafficking operations for years. The things he'd done to his victims made the gladiator pits look merciful.
Munroe studied me for a moment, then nodded. "Well. You're probably tired. I'll let you get settled." He headed for the door, then paused. "I'll see you around."
The door closed behind him, leaving me alone in the quiet cottage.
I stood there for a moment, feeling the strangeness of it. A house. A bed. Privacy. Safety. Things I'd once taken for granted, lost, and found again. Things the seventeen refugees outside were probably experiencing for the first time in years.
I thought of Peanut's vacant eyes, of Charlene's desperate scheming, of the man who'd kissed the ground.
Then I thought of her. Sunshine hair and gentle fingers and a smile I'd never see again. The phantom sensation of her touch on my cheek was so real I could almost feel it even now.
She was safe. She was home.
And for the next few days, I could pretend I understood what that felt like.
I could pretend that the hollow ache in my chest was something other than the space where my heart should have been.
The heart that belonged to a woman I'd never hold again, whose name I'd never know, whose love I'd never earn.
But she was safe. And in the end, that was the only thing that mattered. Even if it meant carrying this longing for the rest of my life, it was worth it.
She was worth everything.