Kora sat in her cabin with the lights off. Only the light from the moons outside came faintly in through the window. And she journaled, having found a blank journal in the reading room. She did this until she became drowsy.
Her father had kept journals.
He always had ink on his hands. He wrote and drew little pictures in his journals. After all, he was an explorer. The few explorers Kora had met over the years kept similar journals—scribbles, drawings, random thoughts.
She didn't know where her father's journals were today, where he'd kept them. They were long gone, she was sure. Though sometimes she thought it would be nice to find them.
She took her mind off the subject, went to the window and stared out, lost in the beauty of the countryside as it went by. Bathed in the strong moonlight of the night.
She took a deep breath, released it.
*****
Day three.
Kora slept in, as planned.
When she woke up, the first thing she did was brush her teeth with the brush and toothpaste the train supplied. She opened the window and let the strong wind blow into the cabin. She breathed it in, deep, letting the morning—well, mid-morning—sun warm her skin.
Nothing like morning.
She wasn't even a morning person. She slept sporadically. Most nights couldn't sleep. But when she was awake in the morning—there was nothing like it.
Kora focused her mind, ignoring all other thoughts, the bad thoughts, the things she didn't want to consider.
She focused in on the pay day. Why the Resistance wanted her for a mission, she didn't know. It didn't mean they weren't well-resourced. Maybe someone finally recognized Kora's talent.
Ultimately, if they didn't offer good money, she wouldn't take the job. They would try to force her. Scarlet had said, a favor for a favor. Kora preferred the phrase: quid-pro-quo.
Kora could deny the job.
If the job didn't suit her, if the money wasn't enough, she'd walk. Or run, depending on how the Resistance treated her—she'd heard stories of their ruthlessness. She had no idea if the stories were true. She had a nervous pit in her stomach about meeting Felicity.
Kora smiled to herself.
Even with everything, the WANTED posters, Alex being stuck in prison with Theresa, the strange encounter in Torch Town—Murrieta. With all of that, Kora couldn't help but smile, her skin glowing under the warm suns. The cool, fresh air all about her.
And money on the horizon.
Very likely a substantial amount.
And true freedom beyond that horizon, as it always was—though it often seemed to be ever-retreating. Kora believed with all her heart that she'd find the freedom she dreamed of. The freedom she experienced every time she climbed the mast of her ship. Standing up there in the open air, in the morning sun or under the light of the moons. Flying up as close to the stars as they could, trying to scrape the endless sky. That's what Kora lived for.
A pang of sadness hit her.
She thought about her ship, the good old Ginger Star.
The most beautiful ship there ever was, at least in her mind.
She knew it wasn't the greatest ship, but to her it was everything.
She'd saved up for it for years and had bought it on a friend's credit line. She'd since paid him back with money from smuggling missions. She considered her acquisition of the ship her greatest accomplishment. Aside from a handful of missions she'd accomplished with the help of her greatest crewmates.
She would get the ship out of impound after this. Even if she had to steal it, because apparently her case hadn't been acquitted. So many questions. Answers to come shortly.
Kora envisioned herself standing in the crow's nest of The Ginger.
She ordered a heavy breakfast, pretty much everything on the menu.
And coffee. Always coffee.
It was brought to her room within ten minutes.
The coffee was steaming, and tasted great.
Finally, the train arrived at the station, in the District of Gaffney.