Free No Quarter (Bounty, Book One) by Christine d'Abo

physical paper, singed around the corners and pressed carefully behind glass. The smiling couple was in stark contrast to the poor condition of the material. Parents, maybe? He could definitely see a resemblance.
    The last picture—another paper photograph—was very blurry, to the point where neither of the faces were clearly visible. A young boy and girl, no older than ten or eleven, holding hands. They seemed to be running through a market, though Faolan couldn’t tell if they were being chased or not.
    It was an odd assortment of memories, their significance apparent only to Gar himself.
    A wave of dizziness sent Faolan stumbling to the bed. He sat on the mattress with a muffled whoosh , pressing his hand to his forehead as he waited for the sensation to pass. The spells were coming on more frequently and lasting longer. If he didn’t get the medication soon, then things would go badly for him far faster than he’d anticipated.
    The stone was the key to everything. It wasn’t tech, which made it a bit more challenging to convince people of its value, but once Jason slipped it on, Faolan knew he could name his price. The money it would get him would more than support his crew for the next year and still give him the credits he needed. He just needed to convince Gar to trust him long enough to pull off the deal.
    Ignoring an unexpected wave of guilt, Faolan looked over to the chair propped against the wall and saw a neatly folded stack of clothing. He chuckled as he snatched the shirt from the top of the pile and pulled it over his head. The white fabric was soft against his skin, hugging his chest and sides. Clearly it belonged to Gar who was slighter in stature than he, but not by much. The pants were another matter. The material was too wide at the waist, sliding down to rest on his hips. Any running or twisting would send them falling to the floor. They couldn’t belong to Gar, he’d never be able to keep them up. The thick leather belt was a necessity rather than a fashionable adornment, easily sliding through the loops. All in all, not the best look on him, but with the whole begging and choosing predicament, Faolan figured it would be in poor taste to argue.
    Ignoring his boots for the time being, he padded quietly out into the hallway in search of his host. Not surprising, the passageway to engineering was locked, preventing him from taking a look at the engines. Gar wasn’t stupid. The door across from the bedroom was also locked using both the DNA and security code to keep unwanted visitors out. He assumed it led to the cargo bay and cells.
    As he approached the final set of doors, they slid open. The entrance was punctuated by a short blast of cool air. The room was so bright and clean it sparkled. A food preparation center from the look of it, one that Gar didn’t use very frequently based on its pristine condition. Either that or his cleanliness tendencies were in serious need of being readjusted. How could anyone live like this?
    Life was meant to be messy.
    Eating, fighting, fucking—all of it got you out of the stagnant atmosphere and into the reality of living. It was clear to Faolan that somewhere along the way, Gar had lost sight of the meaning of it all.
    He needed to be reminded.
    Checking the reading on the chronometer, he figured there was just enough time to make a quick meal before their next jump. Cooking was an indulgence he enjoyed and he took pride in being able to spoil others with the fruits of his skills. Gar could stand to use a good meal, despite being in amazing shape. He was too pale to be healthy.
    Faolan wasn’t surprised to find the ship’s stores well stocked with space rations. And although the thin layer of dust on the containers did catch him off guard, it only served to reinforce Faolan’s earlier suspicions. Slamming and banging around, he threw together a blend of ingredients—one of which looked to be some sort of meat—and waited on the dish as it simmered over