One spaceport looked just like another in design; the only real difference that Spook had ever noticed were the faces of the people occupying them. And in the downtrodden ports they made their stops in, all the faces were stark, staring, unfriendly, with an air of uncaring and never any curiosity.
In the beginning she had made careful mental notes, wanting to keep track of all the new places she had been. But now, now they all blended together; the smells of dirt, unwashed bodies and garbage were the same in all of the new places she had been so eager to see. The same eyes, haunted, dark with malice, stared at her from the shadows of doorways. The same bars sold the same cheap alcohol to the same downtrodden old spacers.
And Riddick always seemed so at home, so comfortable yet aloof. He would lead her through the narrow, dingy, litter-strewn alleyways without sparing a glance to anyone or anything and with calm and confidence pooling around him.
But this time she was alone.
The image of Riddick had been transmitted this far now, as well as a brief description of his "female accomplice;" they had picked up the transmissions a few days out of port, but needed supplies.
So Spook changed her appearance.
Her hair was dyed an odd shade of red, with streaks of a tawny through it; she remembered the deep mocking laugh when Riddick had seen it. But that didn't matter.
She had the anti-radiation goggles favored by the deep-faring spacers over her silver eyes, and a heavy, tattered and patched jacket that she had found on another port. Nothing to set her apart from any other young spacer except the dingy part of the port she moved through.
But now within her line of sight was the airlock that lead to the newer sections of the port, the parts where the well-to-do mingled with the only slightly unsavory and pretended that the downtrodden and broken didn't exist. There she would be able to slip in on the fringes, a little less prosperous than the others, but not enough to call attention to herself and not enough to be memorable. The kind of fringe spacer just right to do business on both sides of the airlock.
The watchman at the far side of the airlock looked back at her, then nodded, turning away to key the lock. She gave him a smile as the door opened, murmuring a low thanks as she continued, feeling his mild curiosity.
The bustle surrounded her. She felt the jostle around her, the laughing voices of reuniting friends lifting her spirits, the quick pace of daily life in the trade center immersing her in the rhythm of happiness and the peculiar elated calm.
The lights were so very bright, even through the dark goggles she felt dazzled by them. And so many colours! She had been so long in the dark of space, the dank of the slums, the monotone of Slam that she had forgotten the vibrancy of simple colour and now all but lost herself in the rush of it. Nearly everyone in the crowd wore some bit of brightness, some splash of their individuality. It whirled around her like a storm, and she caught herself laughing in pure joy. A few in the crowd looked at her askance, but they quickly passed her out of mind as simply having been aship for far too long.
She shook her head to clear the silly elation from it, laughing softly at herself for getting so caught up in such a foolish thing as colour.
Around her was the trade center, where different vendors sold their wares to those who passed through, to anyone from spacer to passengers on their way to one of the planetside settlements. She eyed one shop with curiosity; a wide variety of small, brightly coloured avians called from within cages. Beside that shop was one boasting the newest fashions to come from the planet New Eden, where several girls were fondling some obviously expensive garment on one of the racks while chattering on about their lives with one another.
She slid into another shop, where the man behind the counter looked up with a friendly smile.
"Good day, spacer. Looking for a little something to spice up your life?"
"Lenses. UV block, coloured." She glanced around the shop.
"Ah. Tired of wearing goggles? Or do you have a shipmate you're trying to impress?" He smiled wider. "For you, I'd recommend the green ranges. Or perhaps, if you're seeking something more daring and dramatic, a violet or gold."
She leaned over the counter, eyeing the colour samples, her nails tapping on the glass in idle fidgeting.
"One pair in that honey-brown, one pair in that Eden green, one pair in the blue, one in Carrian Aqua. Where do you get these names?"
The salesman just laughed, pulling out her selections. "34 creds, miss."
"Thanks." She passed the card over the scanner, breathing a sigh of relief at the soft, low tone that signaled the acceptance of it. "Have a good day."
She moved back into the crowd with ease.
And then it hit her.
A feeling that someone was watching her.
She scanned the crowd, the tiers above her, the shops lining the way, but couldn't spot anyone. Nothing stood out, and she couldn't pinpoint the location, or even verify her feelings.
With s shiver, she hurried her steps, finishing the restocking and near- running back to the slums and to the small shuttle where Riddick awaited her return.