Chapter 5
Five
Holly did not leave the living unit that day.
She told herself it was because she was exhausted from the eight-day journey, which was true. Also, the apartment needed attention before she could function in it. That was also true. But the real reason was simpler and less flattering: she was afraid to go out there and face what was hers.
Instead, she started with the windows.
The plastoid slabs that Charles had used to block them off came away more easily than she expected.
She gripped the edge of the nearest one and pulled, and it released with a dry snap, revealing a window streaked with dust but otherwise intact.
Light poured through, golden and warm, and the air in the room seemed to shift.
She moved to each window, pulling off the coverings and stacking them beside the door.
It made her feel like she had a modicum of control over her surroundings, which was absurd, because she did not.
Holly had chosen to come here but had never felt more in over her head in her entire life.
When pulling off the last one, the brittle material snapped in half.
A sharp edge scraped her palm. It didn’t draw blood, but Holly cursed and shook her hand.
“Your bio signs indicate lower than ideal blood sugar,” Luv said, rolling over to her. “Let me fetch you something to eat from the lounge.”
Holly was hungry, but she winced. “The lounge? I’ve heard my cousin is a bad cook.”
“He is. I was referring to the nutrient production device. It makes three dishes.”
“Only three?”
“That’s right.” Luv’s rollerball squeaked as she shifted slightly. “The NuProd offers hot porridge, cold porridge, and a protein bar.”
“Okay.” Holly rubbed her head where that headache had intensified. “I’ll get it myself.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” Luv said, gliding around Holly. “Moones are scary when they’re peckish.”
What? “I can—”
“I said I’ll get it for you,” Luv said firmly. “What do you want to eat?”
“Hot porridge, I guess. Or maybe a protein bar? Which is less awful?”
“I wouldn’t know, would I? I’ll bring you both.” Luv paused at the door and looked back. “You don’t have to save the station on day one, you know. Sit down, Ms. Greene-Moone.”
It was what she needed to hear, even though she’d have preferred the words to be delivered in a gentler tone. Alone, Holly let out a shaky breath and sat beside the dog who continued to ignore her. Tomorrow, she’d have more information. Tomorrow, she’d have it all under control.
A knock at the door startled her, and thankfully put a pause on her spiraling worries.
She got up and answered the door, just to end up backing up and blinking at the sight of an enormous man standing in her doorway.
He wore sturdy pants and leather boots, and an apron smeared with grease.
Behind him, on a powered flatbed that hovered six inches off the floor, were her luggage crates. All of them, stacked neatly.
Seeing him, Bean leaped off the couch and trotted his way over to the man, his tail wagging furiously. The man smiled and bent to give the dog scratches behind the ear. “Hello, Bean,” he murmured. “Happy to be home, eh?” By the time he stood back up, the smile was gone. “You must be the new owner.”
Holly straightened her spine, thrust out a hand, and said, “That’s right. Hi, I’m Holly Greene-Moone.” She emphasized the “Greene” half of her name to try and separate herself from her grandfather.
“Sam.” Ah. Alyce had mentioned him. Important guy around here. His enormous hand engulfed hers in a brief shake, but he didn’t quite meet her gaze. “Just here to bring these in for you.”
Holly had a sudden, fierce urge to tell him to take it all right back to the landing pad. That she was in over her head and was leaving on the next ship out. But that was probably the “peckish” talking.
“Thank you.” She stepped back to make room for him to come in.
Sam nodded and maneuvered the flatbed through the doorway as Bean trotted around Sam’s feet, vying for the big man’s attention.
Holly was still coming to grips with being a dog owner, but she bought into the idea that people who were kind to animals were more likely to be kind people. Not always, but most of the time.
“He likes you,” she said, wondering if Bean would ever greet her that way.
“He spent some time with me up in the control tower when Charles started to decline,” he said. “He’s a good dog.”
“And you didn’t want to keep him?”
“Nah. Bean hated my repair bots,” he explained, locking the flatbed in place. “And my bots hated him.”
“Oh.” Holly stepped back as Sam lifted the first luggage crate. So, there’d be no getting Sam to take the dog permanently.
“Where do you want these?” Sam asked. He had the broadest shoulders she’d ever seen, and hands that looked like they could crush metal.
Maybe they could. Holly noticed that several of his fingers were clearly cybernetic.
The flesh-toned paint at the joints had worn away to reveal gray metal beneath.
One of his eyes had geometric gold shapes in the iris.
Replacement parts, and there were probably more she couldn’t see.
Not uncommon for people who had fought in war zones, but definitely unusual for the types of duties he would perform here. Curious.
“You can just put them wherever,” she said, waving a hand.
He began moving crates with ease, placing them on the floor with more care than the Penrian sisters had shown. His movements were efficient, but his jaw was tight. He still hadn’t looked her in the eye. Sam was clearly unsure about her, and while she understood that, she really wished he wasn’t.
“So,” she said, trying to make some conversation. “You’re in charge of the spaceport?”
He paused, a crate in his hands. “Yes.”
“Surely not just you, though. You have a crew, yes?”
He lifted another crate. “No crew, unless you count my bots. They do good work, though.”
She was sure they did, thinking of the patched-up unit that had greeted the sisters on the landing pad. Still, she’d never heard of a spaceport being operated by one individual. “The force field on the landing pad. I noticed it was fluctuating when I arrived. Is that normal?”
Sam’s expression shuttered. He set the crate down carefully before answering. “No, and they’re not exactly fluctuating. The containment system is running at seventy percent power. Forces it to pulse rather than maintain a constant flow.”
Um. She shook her head. “Why is it running at seventy percent?”
“Energy. The facility is powered by solar collection cells embedded in the outer surface of the dome’s frame, but those cells started failing a few years back.
” Sam’s voice was flat. “Charles wouldn’t approve spending the nits to replace them.
The only other option was to turn down the power grid. So that’s what I did.”
Holly stared at him. “He risked the atmospheric containment of the landing pad to avoid the cost of maintaining the solar cells?”
Sam shrugged. It was clear he’d stopped being surprised by anything a long time ago.
“That is…” She pinched the bridge of her nose. There were no words for how dangerous that was. “Please put in an order to replace the failing solar cells. We need that grid running at full power.”
Sam looked at her then. Actually looked at her, for the first time since he’d arrived. There was something cautious in his expression. Hopeful, maybe, but wary of that hope. “You know something about station systems.”
“I redesigned sections of a few of them.” She shook her head. “Systems that aren’t maintained properly become unstable and dangerous. I can’t believe Charles didn’t at least approve repairs for vital systems.”
“I voiced my concerns,” Sam said slowly. “I know you just got here, but I won’t lie to you. Nothing in this station has been maintained since Charles took over.” He finished moving the last crate and stepped back. “We’re one bad module away from system collapse.”
Holly began to pace the small space. “Can you run a full diagnostic of all the systems and make up a report?” she asked him. “As soon as possible, if that’s feasible. Don’t hold back. I want to hear all your concerns.”
Sam snorted. It wasn’t a happy sound. “That will be a long list.”
“I want it.”
He shifted his weight, looking uncomfortable. “I’m not the only one with ‘concerns.’ You may want to call a meeting, once you’re settled in. I’m not sure who would come, but it would give you a better idea of what you’re looking at.”
“A meeting of involved residents.” Holly nodded. “That’s a good idea.”
Sam shrugged again. He looked tired. Resigned. “Let Alyce know when you’re ready. We’ll see who we can rustle up.”
Sam shook his head and gestured toward the crates. “And send me a message when these crates are empty and I’ll collect them. I can store them in the terminal, unless you want to keep them here. Your choice.” He gave Bean one last pet, then moved toward the door.
That was all she was going to get out of him today. “Thank you, Sam.”
“Yup. Bye, Bean.” The dog wagged his tail and Sam left, the empty flatbed floating behind him.
Holly just stood there, surrounded by her luggage, processing what Sam had told her. Charles wouldn’t approve the solar power cell repairs. Was he looking for a disaster?
Luv squeaked her way back inside, metal hands holding a bowl and a foil-wrapped rectangle. “I’ve got your food.”
“Thank you,” she said absently, still thinking about the incomprehensible danger in running a containment field at seventy percent power.
“And I see Sam was here.” Luv looked around at the cramped interior. “Eat something, then we’ll work on these crates. I can’t abide a mess.”
Holly ate hot porridge at the table. It wasn’t good, but Luv had added some berries, which sweetened it up a bit, added just a little tartness, and popped in her mouth as if they were freshly picked.
Based on the taste of the porridge, this NuProd machine was designed to produce emergency rations.
They were installed on refugee ships and in emergency shelters, not a hotel.
This was pretty appalling. No wonder no one wanted to stay here.
She made a mental note to look into improving the cuisine.
With her belly filled and the headache receding, Holly stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by her luggage crates. Luv rolled toward the first one and scanned the small inventory screen. “This one is filled with plants.”
“I know.” Holly brushed her thumb to the clasp and it unsealed with a hiss. “Are you going to tell me how foolish it was to bring a dozen houseplants with me across the galaxy?”
“No,” Luv replied, lifting the lid and peering inside at the carefully arranged stasis bags. “But what is the purpose of all this indoor greenery?”
“It doesn’t have a purpose, exactly. They’re just houseplants.
They make me happy.” Holly lifted the first one out with care and removed it from its preservation wrapping.
Rich, green leaves burst out as if relieved to be free of their bindings.
“This one’s a sakrilla fern from the tropics of Dendross Alpha,” she explained.
“When it blooms, it has bright blue-green flowers. It lets you know when it needs to be watered by waving its tendrils.”
“Charles did not keep plants,” Luv observed.
“I’m not Charles,” Holly said.
“No,” Luv agreed. “You are not.”
It was the closest thing to a compliment the robot had offered. Holly decided to take it.
She had packed each pot with care for the journey, and she opened them now, checking the soil and leaves.
All had survived the trip, though a few looked droopy and sullen.
She placed them where each would get the appropriate light for their needs, and gave each one a drink of water.
The act of tending them settled something in her.
This, at least, was something she knew how to do.