Chapter 2
Two
Holly’s father opened the door and admitted Mr. Binn, a senior partner of the law firm Tak, Lorring, and Divv.
Holly noticed the very sleek transport unit sitting in the drive in front of the house.
This was no minor visit by a low-level attorney.
He might have been small in stature, but he held himself with perfect posture, despite the dusting of snow on his shoulders and hat.
His large, dark eyes did not appear to blink.
Holly was pretty sure he wasn’t all human, but many weren’t these days.
Mr. Binn presented himself as friendly and professional, and if he was surprised to see Holly present, he didn’t show it. The lawyer introduced himself to Holly with a gracious, two-handed handshake. He inclined his head. “If this is a bad time, I can return tomorrow.”
“And break another appointment?” Holly’s mother brushed away a stray lock of hair with a resigned sigh. “No. This can’t be put off any longer. Please, come and sit. Dreadfully cold tonight.”
“Yes. Er, forgive me, but I must ask you to sign a release stating that you give permission for your daughter to be present during this meeting.” He held out a black, opaque data pad. “Ms. Moone, your thumbprint, if you please.”
Mirth placed her thumb on the smooth surface with an amused smile. “This is not espionage, Mr. Binn,” she said. “We’re here about a hunk of rock floating in deep space.”
“It is more than that, Ms. Moone,” the lawyer said gravely.
He took a seat in her parents’ living room, armed with a paper folder and the d-pad. Holly’s brows rose. Paper was rare, except for people who were into antiques.
Holly reclaimed her spot with Murray, and she leaned forward, letting her work woes fade away as Mr. Binn settled in to tell a story.
“It began with your great-grandfather, Oliver Moone,” Mr. Binn began, talking to Holly.
No surprise, as her mother knew all this well enough, and likely didn’t want to hear it again.
“He sank the fortune he earned on a high-risk mining skiff into the purchase of an unfinished outpost and the small, inhospitable moon it sat on, named Lars-Vector-2. The moon orbits a toxic gas giant. The tiny system, with its midsized star, is positioned on the outskirts of the quadrant. It’s quite a lonely spot in the galaxy, but ships do travel through this space on journeys from one quadrant to the next.
They often need to stop to recharge power cells, for repairs, for the ability to get off the ship and walk around and eat a meal, and they’ll pay a nice fee for these services.
Oliver Moone used his currency units to complete the outpost, which he named Moone’s Landing, and got it listed as an official way station in the Galactic Registry of Way Stations.
Once on the navigation maps, it serviced all visitors, and built a small community of permanent residents.
Upon his passing, Oliver’s outpost, and the moon it sat on, became the property of his only child: his son, Charles. ”
Mr. Binn removed a packet of papers from his folder and placed them on the coffee table. Holly’s mother looked as though she would like to be anywhere else but discussing the moon and space station she was being offered.
“Well,” Mirth said. “Andrew and I are not moving to that place. You said there were interested buyers?” She crossed her arms.
“Yes.” Mr. Binn peered at his d-pad. “We have received two offers. Now, the sale cannot convey the moon itself. Laws since Oliver Moone’s purchase of Lars-Vector-2 have made the sale or purchase of planetary bodies illegal according to the Commission of Balanced Systems. Ownership of planets and moons can only be transferred through inheritance, but not through purchase.
Therefore, after the sale, the moon will belong to no one.
The purchaser is granted the sole right to operate a way station on the moon. ”
Holly barely listened as her attention had been snared by the topmost papers on the coffee table.
They were hard copies of the outpost’s original specs.
The paper was thin and the ink faded, but what she saw made her fingers itch to flip through the rest of them.
She hesitated before reaching for the papers.
Her parents had not even looked at them, but they were not hers to take. “Excuse me. May I look at these?”
Mirth waved a hand. “Feel free. You’d actually know what you’re looking at.”
Holly lifted the packet and eagerly sifted through them.
As she thought, most were copies or original schematics and technical information of the outpost. Once she began looking, she could not look away.
Images, technical drawings, notes written by her great-grandfather, and pages of ledgers.
She leaned over the papers and began to form a picture of the old, but well-built outpost.
Moone’s Landing was large. Very large, according to the specs.
It wasn’t a place you could walk across in five minutes.
It would take nearly an hour. And it wasn’t one of the cheap, one-piece units that they plopped down on surfaces now.
The dome was made of transparent, ten-foot-thick, crystal-plex plates sunk twenty feet down into the surface.
It was rectangular in shape but rounded at the corners.
The clear plates were curved and reinforced with alloy struts throughout the whole thing, giving it the look of a massive but stunning greenhouse.
Nothing was built like this anymore. As far as she knew, nothing had ever been built like this.
Holly looked up to say so and found three people staring at her. “What?”
Mr. Binn smiled at her. “Do you have questions, Miss Greene-Moone?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” Holly’s heart beat faster.
She asked how the water recirculation unit worked (through an underground filtration system), how many people lived there (thirty-six), when was the last time the dome had been serviced and checked for cracks (more years ago than it should have been).
Mr. Binn answered as if he knew the entire report by heart.
Memory enhancement, probably. Everyone in jobs like his had one.
Finally, she frowned. “Why the interest in this location?” she asked. “It’s surprising to see one offer, let alone two.”
Mr. Binn folded his hands and gazed at her, a considering look in his eye.
“Well, a massive space station is about to begin construction on the edge of our neighboring quadrant,” he began.
“It will house millions and essentially act as the bridge between the two quadrants. Moone’s Landing is a prime location, sitting directly in the corridor between the new station being built and the Psion-9 station, which, considering your line of work, you are likely familiar with. ”
Holly nodded. Ah, that explained it. She knew a great deal about the large trade hub that was the Psion-9 space station. That Moone’s Landing lay directly in the corridor between the behemoth that was there and the one soon to be built explained the interest.
“What do these buyers want to do with the existing structure?” She had a very bad feeling she knew the answer to this one.
“The two parties that have submitted offers intend to decommission Moone’s Landing and construct a new structure.”
Holly’s hand pressed down on the papers on her lap, as if that could protect the grand structure that apparently was doomed. “Why? The architecture here alone is absolutely stunning and the construction is so strong, it could withstand most impacts. And what about the people living here?”
Mr. Binn inclined his head. “I understand your concerns. The structure is quite unique. It is unfortunate that neither buyer plans to keep it running, but they are in the business of large-scale space rest stops and the purchase grants them the right to place one of their prefabricated structures on the moon. The residents of Moone’s Landing will be offered employment at the new outpost, or given a sum of standard currency units—to be determined by the purchaser—to depart. ”
Holly suspected she knew exactly who the buyers were, now. Her blood began to heat. “So these people will be kicked out if they don’t want to live in one of those hideous, premade monstrosities that are identical to every other one?” Holly demanded. “They have no say at all?”
“Yes, well, they do not own the outpost.” Mr. Binn folded his hands. “Your grandfather left both the outpost and moon to your mother, not the residents, so sadly, no. They have no say.”
Holly was vaguely aware of her parents staring at her. Her father rubbed his chin. “Holly, is this something you’re…?” Her father shifted, leaning closer to Mirth as if conferring, then turned back to Holly. “Do you have an interest in running this place?”
Until that moment, it hadn’t even occurred to Holly that taking on this outpost was an option.
It was her mother’s. Not hers. But Mirth Moone was looking at her daughter with the strangest expression.
Her eyes smiled, crinkling around the corners.
Her lips were curved, a little sad, but very gentle. “Tell us what’s on your mind, Holly.”
“No, no. Nothing.” Holly put the papers on the table, though it pained her to do so. “This is your inheritance, Mom. With two offers, I’m sure you’ll make out well. You deserve it.”
“Ah, yes. About that.” Mr. Binn went back to his pad.
“There is a wrinkle. If the outpost is sold, the profits do not go to Mirth Moone. The heir may not manage the outpost remotely, either. If the heir does not take residence at Moone’s Landing, a sale is forced.
Proceeds of the sale go to the construction of a statue in the image of Charles Moone to be displayed somewhere in the newly constructed station. ”
Holly’s stomach dropped. “He wants a statue of himself?”