Chapter 8
Eight
The man smiled at her. It was a practiced smile and looked like it had been refined in front of mirrors and deployed in countless negotiations. “My apologies. I nearly ran you over.”
His voice was smooth. Cultured. It made Holly’s fingers curl into her palms.
“No harm done,” she managed, though her prepared speech had evaporated like water on a hot engine.
“You must be Mirth Moone, Charles’ heir. My records must be incorrect. I was expecting someone older.”
“I’m Holly Greene-Moone. My mother is Mirth Moone, the original inheritor,” she said. “She passed it on to me.”
“Ah, yes. The daughter who works for Sol-Arc Industries. A pleasure, Ms. Greene-Moone.” He extended a hand. “Rasker Vipp. I’m a consultant representing Rest ’N Recharge’s interest in this outpost. I believe you’ve heard of us?”
Holly stared at his hand for a moment before shaking it. His grip was firm and cool. “I have.”
Rest ’N Recharge. Of course. One of the two firms she had suspected were circling Moone’s Landing.
They operated hundreds of rest stations across the quadrant, and every single one of them was identical.
Prefabricated monstrosities where every surface was plastered with advertisements, the food was terrible, the beds were worse, and everything was horrendously overpriced.
Travelers had no choice but to pay their premiums because there was nowhere else to stop.
A captive audience, gouged at every turn.
And they wanted this station.
“Then you know why I’m here,” Rasker said.
“I do.” Oh, boy, Holly thought. She wasn’t managing more than two-word sentences. Embarrassing, when dealing with a man with more silk in his voice than in his suit.
He released her hand and tilted his head.
“I had hoped to meet you after you had a chance to rest from your journey. Perhaps you can find time in your schedule to meet with me and hear my client’s proposal.
They believe this moon has considerable potential.
With the right development, it could become a premier way station between the new hub and Psion-9. ”
“It already is a way station,” Holly said.
“Well.” Rasker glanced around the square with an expression of polite distaste. “It’s something, certainly.”
Holly felt her cheeks get hot. “Moone’s Landing has been serving travelers for over two hundred years.”
“And it shows.” He smiled again, but not as nice this time.
Sharp teeth flashed. “I don’t mean to be unkind, Ms. Greene-Moone, but surely you can see that this place is…
past its prime. The infrastructure is failing.
The population has dwindled to almost nothing.
Managing and restoring this facility would be a tremendous burden for someone in your position. ”
“My position?”
“An engineer from Nova, was it? Accustomed to modern conveniences. Urban life.” He tilted his head, studying her the way one might an interesting insect.
“This must all be quite overwhelming for you. A woman with your technical background, suddenly responsible for an entire moon. It’s a lot to take on. ”
Holly’s hands curled into fists at her sides.
A woman of her technical background? What did that even mean?
Was he implying that because she lived in Nova she couldn’t possibly handle a bit of rustic, eh, charm?
Or that she must be too rigid and “technical” to adapt to the unique challenges this place would throw at her?
Well, he was wrong on either account. Holly had spent twelve years solving problems that people like him couldn’t even comprehend.
“I think I can manage,” she said through clenched teeth.
“Of course you do. That’s admirable.” His tone suggested it was anything but.
“Still, Rest ’N Recharge is prepared to make a very generous offer.
You could walk away with a considerable sum.
Enough to live comfortably for the rest of your life, I’d imagine.
No more worrying about failing power grids or broken air circulators.
No more inheriting other people’s problems.”
She was not going to share that she would, in fact, walk away without any sum if she sold it. That was a fact she thought wise to keep tucked away. The less information he had, the better. “I didn’t inherit a problem,” Holly snapped. “I inherited my family’s legacy.”
“A legacy.” Rasker’s eyebrows rose. “A legacy does not put food in one’s mouth, or…” His gaze traveled down her form. “Designer shoes on one’s feet.”
Of all the stars above, what was everyone’s fixation with her shoes?
“Moone’s Landing belongs in my family. It will stay in my family.”
He shrugged, a languid roll of his shoulders. “Family sentiment won’t fix the water pumps, Ms. Greene-Moone. It won’t resurface the scratched-up dome or replace the air filtration system. This place needs resources you simply don’t have.”
“You don’t know what I have.”
“I know there isn’t enough in the station’s accounts to cover the cost of all the repairs needed here. You’re in over your head.” He said it not unkindly, which somehow made it worse. “There’s no shame in admitting when something is too much. It takes wisdom to recognize one’s limitations.”
Holly opened her mouth to deliver a cutting response, but that last line made her see red. What came out was: “You’re a condescending snob and I don’t like you.”
Sweet stars, how old was she? Rasker’s eyebrows climbed higher, and his smile took on an edge of amusement that made her want to sink into the stone beneath her feet.
“I’m very sorry,” he said slowly, “that you don’t like me.”
Holly’s cheeks burned hotter than the sun. Twelve years of professional communication, of navigating corporate politics and client relations, and the best she could come up with was I don’t like you. Her mother would schedule her for a therapy session.
But then she noticed the thin lines on his neck.
They were subtle, easily mistaken for scars, but Holly recognized them for what they were.
Gills. Rasker Vipp was Nakrian, a species from a planet composed of ninety percent water.
Nakrians could breathe underwater. They were as advanced as humans, had a reputation for being excellent negotiators, and were fantastic swimmers.
Holly had gone to school with a girl who was half human, half Nakrian. She had dominated every swim meet for four years straight, moving through water like she was born for it. Which, Holly supposed, she partly was.
Holly had no intention of letting Rasker Vipp dominate her.
She straightened her spine and met his light gray eyes. “You might as well leave, Mr. Vipp. I’m not selling Moone’s Landing. Not to Rest ’N Recharge. Not to anyone.”
Rasker crossed his arms. “I think I’ll stay and see how things go.”
Oh, no, no, no. “Then I’ll kick you out.”
He laughed. It was a genuine laugh, warm and rich, and Holly hated how pleasant it sounded. “Ms. Greene-Moone, I’m a paying customer at your unpleasant excuse for a hotel. You need every currency unit you can get to keep this place afloat. Are you really going to turn away good nits out of spite?”
Holly wanted to say yes. She wanted to tell him to pack his suits and get on the next shuttle out of here.
But he was right, and they both knew it.
Moone’s Landing needed the income. And kicking out a paying guest because she didn’t like him would just confirm what he probably thought of her: that she was immature and petty.
“Fine,” she said breezily. “Stay. But don’t expect to change my mind.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” His smile was infuriating. “I’m sure you’ll come around on your own.”
Holly didn’t trust herself to respond. She pushed past him, close enough that her shoulder nearly clipped his arm, and stormed into the hotel. Her face was hot, her pulse was racing, and her carefully composed speech was in tatters.
She made it to her apartment door and slapped her palm against the cracked reader harder than necessary. The pad buzzed and clicked, and she shoved the door open and stepped inside.
Holly leaned against the closed door of the apartment that was now hers.
The dog lifted his head, looked at Holly, then dropped it back on the couch with a grunt.
Nice. The weight of what she had taken on squeezed like one of her awful work suits, most of which she’d left on Nova.
The stale air made it hard to breathe, or maybe that was caused by the interaction she just had with Mr. Rasker Vipp.
The oppressive vibes of her grandfather’s space didn’t help, either.
Vibes. Yes, she was definitely her parents’ daughter.
Luv rolled toward her. “I heard you met our guest from room seventeen.”
“‘Met’ is one word for it,” Holly muttered. More like collided. “Wait. We were outside. Did you actually hear our conversation?”
“My auditory capabilities would amaze you, Ms. Greene-Moone,” Luv said dryly. “I heard every unfortunate word.”
Holly groaned. “I wasn’t ready, okay?” Here she was, defending herself against the judgment of a housekeeping robot. “I’m…stars, I’m tired. And hungry. I’m never at my best when I’m hungry. And for stars sake, call me Holly.”