of energy from his implants no longer felt restless or irritating. It had subsided over the last two days into a deep, secure channel, making him feel rich and suddenly alive.
He closed up the two shopping bags filled with their robes and the meager belongings they'd purchased before leaving Zafran 8. They were back in their street clothes, Isabelle looking bright and beautiful in her brown gown, a white-and-brown patterned scarf around her neck. Galen tugged at the brown synthesuede turtleneck, unused to the feeling of the soft, rich material against his skin. He had wrapped the scarf Isabelle had made him around his neck. They had joked about being husband and wife like regular Humans, both with their scarves.
In the absence of the wigs, they created the illusion of hair on their heads. Galen's was short and dark. Isabelle's long strawberry-blond hair looked much as it had before she'd been initiated. She'd included in the illusion some locks that were twisted back and clipped, adding to the semblance of reality.
If Elizar was there to meet them, then the disguises would hardly be necessary. But they were being cautious, now. Galen conjured an illusion to disguise his staff as a packing tube, then picked up the shopping bags.
"Shall we go, Mrs. Wilcox?" He offered her his arm, and she took it.
"Certainly, Mr. Wilcox."
They headed down the narrow corridor to the air lock, walking easily in step. The brush of Isabelle's body against his felt right. Galen knew Elric would not approve, but he and Isabelle were meant to be together. Their feelings would not burn away after time.
Since the ship was still being guided into dock, the captain and his crew were occupied. The area around the air lock was empty, but for the stasis crate with Burell's body. It