Chapter 13
Thirteen
Prepared with her d-pad and the solid research she’d done on the station, Holly walked into the hotel lounge for the meeting she had set up.
It was nearly noon, but no one was there yet.
The past week had not been terribly eventful, but it had been productive.
Holly had pored over data until her eyes felt like they’d fall out of their sockets.
This was her first step on every job she was assigned to at Sol-Arc, and even though Moone’s Landing was the biggest project she’d ever taken on—and also the highest stakes—she felt like she had a decent handle on what needed to be done.
Now, she needed input from those that lived here.
As for the real estate consultant staying in room seventeen, she’d seen little of him.
He had sent her messages. They were stored in her comm’s files.
All of them were polite requests to schedule a meeting and she’d replied to none of them.
He could message her until they were swallowed by a black hole.
She wasn’t going to entertain an offer from Rest ’N Recharge.
Still, she kept tabs on him. According to the spaceport records, Rasker Vipp came and went frequently and Holly could only hope that one of these departures would be his last. This was not spying, she told herself.
This was monitoring. It was important to know the position of one’s adversary.
He had other business to attend to, surely.
Part of her breathed easier when she knew he was not on the station.
She was not breathing easier today, however, as Mr. Vipp was very much at the station.
She’d seen him jogging just that morning.
And, maybe she’d watched him from the window, but it wasn’t because he looked good in tight fitness gear. Although, he did.
Holly turned her attention to the tables and chairs set in clusters around the room. This was fine for dining, but it wouldn’t do for a group meeting. So she set about dragging several tables into a group and arranged chairs around them.
She sat down at one of the chairs and placed her d-pad on the table in front of her. While she waited, she took some time to properly evaluate the space.
It didn’t make a great first impression.
The floor was carpeted for reasons that eluded her, and it was with the same faded, worn type that was in the hallway.
The furniture was upholstered in colors that might have been vibrant once but had since settled into tones of muted exhaustion.
A simple metal bar took up the wall to her right.
It was poorly stocked. Lights should have illuminated bottles of colorful spirits from all corners of the galaxy, but half the lights were out and most of the shelves were bare, making the bar look abandoned.
All the way to the left was an open space with a raised dais, as if made to accommodate live music or a small show.
What caught her attention the most was the open kitchen that took up the center of the wall facing the door.
Kitchens like this weren’t made anymore, but it was a very cool feature of the lounge, in her mind.
Actual cooking was a rare treat, a quirky throwback to a time before new, sophisticated NuProds were able to produce just about any dish with perfection.
As with most things, old design could be fashionable again.
A brand-new cafe had opened in Nova, down the block from her living unit building, in which coffee was prepared by hand, by real people. It was all the rage.
The kitchen equipment was old, but it was also high quality.
She looked past the ancient NuProd machine tucked beside a refrigeration unit, to the vintage stove and oven.
These were built to last centuries and clearly had.
But Cody’s lack of cleaning was evident in the pile of filthy dishes and a smell that made Holly’s nose wrinkle.
The rest of the lounge was in good shape.
Tables were clean. Floors were vacuumed.
That would be Luv’s doing, and it was likely easy to maintain because no one ate here.
Aside from the neglect, the lounge’s layout was good. The room was spacious without feeling cavernous, with alcoves and corners that invited conversation. Some smart decorating could make this space amazing.
Holly checked the time. Exactly twelve o’clock. She worried the corner of her d-pad, wondering if anyone would come.
She let out a relieved breath as Sam and Alyce arrived together, suggesting they’d coordinated beforehand. Sam gave Holly a brief nod and took a seat on her left. Alyce settled beside him. Her gold eyes landed on Holly and she smiled.
Orba and Sula glided in next. Their opalescent skin looked luminous in the drab lounge as they moved to seats beside Alyce with silken grace. Their flowing robes pooled around them like liquid.
Mish hurried in right behind them, looking frazzled. Her orange hair was in a long braid, but wild strands stood out like defiant weeds. She dropped into a chair and let out a breath.
“Where are your children?” Holly asked, glancing toward the door.
“In their happy room,” Mish said. “Sleeping. That should buy me an hour without them.”
Holly decided not to ask what a happy room was. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
A short, stout man with wild white hair burst through the door in a purple velvet coat. Tiny mushrooms were embroidered all over it, and his pants were a pattern that should have clashed but somehow didn’t. He spotted Holly and his face split into a delighted grin.
“There she is!” This was Harry Duvo, who owned the mushroom shop.
She’d visited several times, during which Holly had learned more about the residents, and about mushrooms, than she thought she wanted to know, but she found Harry absolutely impossible to dislike.
He swept toward her with his arms spread wide.
“Ah, our first resident meeting with the new owner of Moone’s Landing.
” He gave her a warm hug, which she returned with a grin.
When he leaned back, he held her gaze. “Did you try adding that powder to your morning stimulant beverage? Of course, you did. What did you think?”
“It did give it more of a warm, nutty taste,” she said, thinking about the flavored mushroom powder he’d given her the last time she’d visited and mentioned the “coffee” drink Luv gave her in the mornings.
It was a basic stimulant that tasted like burnt toast, but cleared mental cobwebs.
Harry’s powder blend did improve the taste.
Apparently, it had vitamins, too. “And it made the texture creamier.”
“What did I tell you? Come back when you need more. It’s a very popular blend. I ship it all over the quadrant—even to Nova.” He winked and took a seat across from her, arranging his coat around him like a cape.
A younger man entered next, and Holly found herself staring.
He was strikingly handsome, with long white hair that fell past his shoulders and ears that came to delicate points.
His features were angular and fine, like something out of a fantasy story.
But his skin was not silver-gray and his eyes were not slitted like a cat, so he was part Kyvian, by the look of him.
Holly knew enough about that (fairly brutal) species to know that Kyvians did not acknowledge anything other than full Kyvian, making it likely that this male was an outcast from those people.
He surveyed the room with an expression of mild boredom, then raised a hand in a lazy wave.
“Tyer,” he said, inclining his head regally. “And you’re Holly Greene-Moone.” He draped himself into one of the chairs, throwing a leg over the arm. “Pleasure,” he added in a tone so dry she could only interpret it as sarcasm. Nevertheless, he was here. That had to mean something.
Cody sauntered in last, looking as carefree as ever. His collection of necklaces clinked softly as he moved. He dropped into a chair near Tyer and leaned back, stretching his arms over his head with a yawn. “Hey, everyone,” he said. “Good vibes today. I can feel it.”
Tyer shot him a look that could have curdled milk. Cody pretended to ignore it.
Holly surveyed the group. This was it. This was everyone who had come. She tried not to let her disappointment show. She had hoped for more, but this was okay. These were the people who cared about the future of Moone’s Landing.
She was about to begin when one more person entered the lounge.
Rasker Vipp stepped inside. He didn’t take a seat. Instead, he stopped just inside and leaned against the wall, arms crossed. His gray eyes found Holly’s and held them with quiet challenge.
“This meeting is for residents only,” Holly called over, keeping her voice steady. “I’ll have to ask you to leave.”
Rasker’s lips curved. “I’ve been here longer than you. I’d say that qualifies.”
“No, you’ve been checked in to the hotel for three weeks,” she said primly. “You’ve been on this moon for about half of that, according to the spaceport logs.”
His mouth curved. “You monitor my whereabouts. Interesting.”
“It’s my job to be aware of everyone coming and going from this station.
” Her face felt as hot as the surface of the sun as everyone observed this back-and-forth with rapt attention.
Her intention had not been to entertain.
She cleared her throat. “Let me rephrase. This meeting is for people who want to see Moone’s Landing remain Moone’s Landing,” Holly said.
“Not people who want to shut it down and replace it with a hideous Rest ’N Recharge way station. ”
Murmurs of agreement rippled around the tables. Harry nodded and stabbed a finger in the air. Even Tyer’s bored expression sharpened into something less friendly.
Rasker shrugged, unbothered. “As a paying guest, I’m entitled to use the lounge when I please.”
Holly could continue arguing with him, or she could begin the meeting. She couldn’t do both.
“Fine,” she said with a tight, too-sweet smile. “But be quiet and don’t interfere.”
He inclined his head, a mockery of agreement, and remained against the wall. This was all she was going to get. It was time to face the music and these people, and figure out where to start with the space station she’d inherited.