Chapter 18
Eighteen
Holly pressed the earpiece deeper into her ear. “Thank you for calling me back, Mr. Binn.”
“My apologies for the delay, Ms. Greene-Moone.” The lawyer’s voice was crisp but carried an undercurrent of something that might have been frustration. “I wanted to be thorough before I responded to your inquiry.”
Holly leaned against the kitchen counter. The scent of blueberry muffins was still warm in the air. “Did you have any luck finding any other accounts for Charles?”
After her group meeting with the residents, she’d done as she’d said and sent a message to Mr. Binn about the possible missing currency units. First, however, she’d done some math. Many things had not added up.
“I spent the better part of two days combing through every financial record connected to Charles Moone and Moone’s Landing.” He paused. “I’m afraid I cannot locate any additional accounts beyond the one you already have access to.”
Holly’s heart sank. She had hoped, perhaps foolishly, that the missing funds would turn up in some forgotten corner of the galactic banking system. “So, the nits are just…gone?”
“It would appear so. Your calculations are correct, however. The amount of standard currency units Charles accumulated, based on the station’s income over the years, does not remotely match what was in his possession at the time of his death.
And there are no expenses on record that explain the discrepancy. ”
Holly rubbed her forehead. “Was there anyone else Charles was close to? Someone who might have hidden nits for him? Or with him?”
Mr. Binn was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was measured. “Ms. Greene-Moone, in all my dealings with your grandfather, I never heard of anyone he could be described as close to. He was a solitary man. Deeply so.”
That tracked with everything Holly had learned about Charles Moone. A man who had pushed away his wife, ignored his daughter, and made unusual demands of his heirs in his will. Not exactly the type to have trusted confidants.
“Do you think he hid the nits somewhere?” she asked. “Or could they have been stolen?”
“If he had a secret account, I would have found it,” Mr. Binn admitted. “The encrypted system of our currency units makes them all but impossible to steal. I did, nevertheless, explore that possibility, too.”
Holly’s chest tightened. “And?”
“No transfer of nits has been recorded that raised even the slightest concern. Moone’s Landing has been operating strictly on the up-and-up.
” Mr. Binn sighed. “As you know, nits exist in digital form only and are almost always linked to an account, unless they are uploaded into a chip. This action makes sense when one is, say, on the run, or moving to a new system, neither of which Charles was planning to do. Charles was secretive about many things. Have you found any currency chips among his possessions?”
Currency chips were small, typically a module that could be popped in and out of accessories that were designed to hold them.
Holly wore her currency chip in her wrist comm and it was connected to her account.
There were many wearable items that accommodated currency chips, like necklaces or broaches, and some had theirs embedded in their bodies—usually a hand or wrist. That had gone out of fashion about fifty years earlier, thankfully.
“I haven’t.” Holly’s fingers rubbed circles into her temples. “Mr. Binn, I need more funding to repair this station,” she said. “The list of problems that need attention is longer than my arm.”
“I understand.” Mr. Binn’s tone softened, just slightly. “Perhaps it will take more time than expected to bring the outpost up to standard. These things rarely happen as quickly as we hope.”
More time.
“Thank you for looking into it,” Holly said. “I appreciate your efforts.”
“Of course. I will continue to investigate on my end. If anything surfaces, you will be the first to know.”
The call ended and Holly removed the earpiece from her ear. She stood alone in the lounge, surrounded by the lingering scent of baked muffins and the weight of impossible math.
She began to clean.
It was mindless work, but it let her thoughts wander while her hands stayed busy. She wiped down the counters and washed and scrubbed until the dishes shone. All the while, her mind churned through numbers and timelines and the cold, hard truth she had to face:
She was not going to finish this job in two months.
Unlike her projects at Sol-Arc Industries, a set timeline would not yield the measurable results she was used to getting.
Even if she poured every nit she could scrape together into repairs, even if every system was restored to perfect working order, it might not be enough to know if Moone’s Landing could succeed in such a short period of time.
The problem went beyond repairs. The station needed travelers with nits to spend at the station. It needed income. It needed to climb out of the pit of terrible reviews that had accumulated over years of neglect.
So even if she stayed and gave up her position at Sol-Arc Industries for good, she could still fail.
The travelers who had stopped coming might never return.
New ones might be scared off by the reviews and never come.
She could pour her heart and soul into this place and still watch it fail.
Still watch it fall into Rest ’N Recharge’s or Complete Respite’s hands.
Charles would get his statue. The forest would die.
The residents would have to leave. Holly would be starting over with nothing, and the thought of that sent ice down her spine.
Holly finished wiping down the last counter and surveyed her work.
The kitchen was spotless and ready for someone who actually knew how to cook.
As she thought that, her wrist comm blinked.
She checked it to see a message from Rasker Vipp.
Her brow went taut, but it was just the muffin recipe.
He’d sent it to her, just as he’d said he would.
Rasker Vipp was the complicated cherry on top of the hot mess sundae that was currently her life.
She’d be lying if she said she felt no attraction to him.
But she wasn’t foolish enough to let her thoughts wander in that direction.
Rasker was here on a mission, and while she hoped his friendliness was genuine, it was possible that he was playing with her.
For her own sanity and survival, she needed to keep a cool head when it came to the Nakrian consultant staying in room seventeen.
Holly gathered the remaining muffins onto a plate. Nine of them. She had eaten another one while she cleaned, unable to resist. Rasker had been right. They really were delicious.
The short walk back to her unit was quiet. Holly pushed open her door and stepped inside.
Bean lifted his head from the couch, regarded her with mild interest, then lifted his nose as he detected the scent of something which could be eaten.
“They’re muffins,” she told him. “I can’t give you one. Your gas is bad enough to kill my plants.”
Undeterred, the little dog lumbered down from the couch and trotted over to her, gazing up hopefully.
Holly set the tray on the table and sank into a chair. The week had been long. Good, in many ways. The garden with Mish. The baking with Rasker. Bean was warming up to her a little. But good things didn’t pay for repairs, and warm feelings didn’t fix broken systems.
She picked up a muffin and took a bite. Still delicious, even cooled.
Luv rolled into the room, squeaking loudly. “Do not give that dog a piece of muffin.”
“I’m not going to,” Holly said between bites. “What do you care, though? You can’t smell his gas.”
“He needs to stay on his diet or he messes in the unit,” Luv replied. “I’m not cleaning that up.”
Holly chewed thoughtfully on her muffin. “Luv, why don’t you let Sam take a look at your rollerball? He can adjust it for you so you don’t squeak.”
The robot’s optical sensors blinked. “I can’t go to the control tower because I can’t leave the hotel.” Luv’s tone was flat. Final.
Holly set down her muffin. “What do you mean, you can’t leave?”
Instead of answering, Luv’s speakers crackled, and a voice emerged that made Holly’s skin prickle. It was old and male, cranky and belligerent.
“Luv is not leaving this hotel. I need it here.”
Then a woman’s voice, patient but strained and sounding like Alyce: “Charles, Luv needs regular maintenance at the—”
The old man again, louder now: “My robot stays here with me—”
“Stop.” Holly’s voice came out sharper than she intended. “Luv, stop the recording.”
The voices cut off immediately. Luv’s optical sensors blinked.
Holly pressed a hand to her stomach. “I’ve never heard my grandfather’s voice before. He sounded like a cruel person. He called you ‘it.’”
Luv did not respond to that.
No wonder Luv reacted so strongly when Holly had made that initial mistake. Holly rubbed her arms, though the room wasn’t cold. She had known Charles Moone was difficult. Her mother had made that clear. But hearing the way he spoke made it real in a way that Mr. Binn’s polite descriptions had not.
“Charles set my boundary parameters to the inside of this building,” Luv said. “I am physically incapable of rolling past the lobby door.”
Holly stared at the Homeboti. “How long has he kept you confined to the hotel?”
“Fifteen years.”
Holly’s disgust with her grandfather refreshed itself like a cold wave. Charles had locked this robot, this clearly sentient, self-aware being, inside a single building for over a decade. Like a prisoner.
“Do you want to leave the hotel?” Holly asked carefully.
Luv was quiet for a moment. Her optical lights flickered.
“I enjoy bird-watching,” the robot said, and Holly remembered Luv saying something about that once before. “Through the windows, I’ve observed twenty-two of the outpost’s sixty-four documented species.”
That sounded like a yes. She pushed away from the table and stood. “Your new boundary is the outpost’s dome,” Holly said firmly. “You may leave the hotel whenever you want. Do I have to input something in your software?”
Luv went still. Her articulated arms hung motionless at her sides.
“No, I…” The robot’s voice was different. The sharp edges had fallen away. “Your spoken directive is all it takes. Thank you, Holly.”
No sarcastic comeback. No biting remark. This was a first.
Holly nodded, her throat suddenly tight.
“Please go to Sam for maintenance. I’m sure you’re way overdue.
Fix that squeaky rollerball.” She turned away and looked at the windows she’d uncovered her first day here.
Houseplants lined the sills. Light warmed the corners.
The living unit had come far from the dim tomb she’d first walked into. So had Luv.
She retrieved the d-pad Mr. Binn had given her and settled onto the small sofa.
Bean hopped up on the opposite side, leaving ample room between them.
He couldn’t have her thinking he liked her after she denied him a bite of muffin.
The dog curled into a ball and tucked his nose under his tail.
Holly pulled up the financial records for Moone’s Landing and began to search for any clue Mr. Binn may have missed about where Charles might have hidden the missing nits.
She’d been here a few weeks, and she was already halfway in love with this place and those who lived here.