A few weeks went by. Youri and Six finally received their first paycheck. Until then they had been living on the streets, sleeping on benches, getting through the cold nights and the long days however they could. With the first bit of money they had ever earned, the two of them went straight to the nearest fast-food place for a hot meal. Sitting at the table and savoring every bite, Youri let out a long breath.
"Well… it's about time we found somewhere we can actually sleep," he said, and Six nodded. "We'll look properly tomorrow. For tonight, let's just crash in a motel somewhere." Six nodded again.
They wandered the city looking for anything cheap, and they walked for hours until, somehow, they found themselves back in the night district — the very first place they had come to after escaping the Institute of Potential. On the corner stood a small motel. Under the warm glow of its neon, the Skylark Motel looked like a time capsule humming softly to itself in the dark, its bold, angled sign casting a gentle amber halo over the pavement. Its identical doors and square windows were lined up around the courtyard in a neat retro grid, its soft pink walls and white railings giving the whole place a strange, almost comforting charm.
They went into the reception. Harsh red light washed over two rows of empty plastic chairs set along the wood-paneled walls, with a few wrinkled papers abandoned on one of the seats. The dark glossy paneling swallowed so much of the light that the little room felt warm and slightly claustrophobic at the same time. Behind the high counter stood the only sign of life: a young clerk with brown hair tucked under a cap bearing the motel's logo, and a metal name tag on his white shirt that read Oliver. His black eyes were bored and unfocused. He barely noticed the two of them come in.
Youri, who was only just tall enough to see over the counter, walked up to it, and Six tapped the little bell on its left side. The ring jolted Oliver upright, and he straightened his cap.
"Good evening, sir. How may I help you?" he asked automatically.
Six only stared at him, so Youri spoke up. "Excuse me. We're looking for a room for two people. Do you have anything free?"
Oliver squinted, not seeing him at first, and only when Youri lifted a hand did he clear his throat. "Sorry — didn't see you there. Hmm. The last room we had free was a three-bed, but somebody took it earlier tonight."
"Shit," Youri muttered.
Oliver leaned forward. "If you like, I can call the guest and ask if he'd be willing to share. If he says yes, you can split the bill with him later." He picked up the phone and dialed. After a short exchange he hung up, reached under the counter, and set a key with the number thirteen on it in front of them. "He's fine with sharing. Room thirteen. Enjoy your stay."
Youri thanked him and took the key.
The room was on the second floor, at the far left end of the walkway, behind a white door with the number thirteen on it. Youri and Six exchanged a look. Then Youri knocked twice. The door opened on a man who looked to be in his mid-forties, with brown hair threaded with silver, a neatly kept beard and sharp blue eyes that studied them carefully. He was wearing a white tank top and navy pants.
"You must be the boys the receptionist mentioned," he said in a deep voice.
Six nodded, and Youri added, "Yes. Sorry for the trouble."
The man gave a faint smile. "Come in."
Warm wooden paneling lined the room like the inside of a cabin, soaking up the soft light from the lamps on the walls. Three plump beds stood side by side with their pillows neatly stacked, a little nightstand between each of them holding nothing but a notepad, a pen and a phone. In the corner, a small fridge and a microwave sat on a low black stand, and next to them was a wooden chair with a navy jacket draped over its back.
"I'm Barnaby," the man said, holding out his hand. "Nice to meet you."
Youri introduced himself and Six. Barnaby sat down on one of the beds. "I'll be around for a few days. You boys just staying the night?"
"Yeah," Youri said. "We were looking for a place, but it got late, so we figured we'd crash here."
"Well, I hope you find a good one," Barnaby said, and he slid under his covers.
As Youri climbed into his own bed, his eyes drifted to the jacket on the chair. At first glance it looked like any ordinary jacket, but up close he could see a row of star-shaped medals pinned across its chest and three gold lines stitched onto the collar. The sight tugged at a memory — Flavio's stories about the Terrian Empire, the great power that ruled this side of the universe, and about its soldiers, whom he had always described as flashy, polished and impossible to mistake for anybody else. Why would a Terrian soldier be on Volar, Youri wondered, and staying in a cheap motel like this? He turned the question over for a while, but exhaustion took him before he found an answer. He drifted off to sleep.
When he woke the next morning and nudged Six awake, Barnaby was already gone. Youri didn't think much more of it. The two of them met up with Liam and went to the warehouse. The day felt perfectly normal — just work, as always. The three of them spent it lifting crates and boxes, loading them into a docked cargo ship, stacking and organizing one after another.
Then, as Youri was steering one of the lifters, a crate slipped off it. It hit the ground and split open. A pile of small white bags spilled out across the floor.
Liam and Six came running. "What happened?" Liam asked.
"I don't know," Youri said. "The weight shifted wrong."
"Alright." Liam sighed. "I'll go get Casey so we can repack it."
But as he turned to go, a new voice came from behind them. "Don't worry, boys. Leave it like that. I'll take care of it."
Youri and Six turned around and froze. Barnaby was standing there with his hands tucked casually into his pockets.