Chapter 33
Thirty-Three
The spaceport was busier than Holly had ever seen it.
That wasn’t saying much, honestly. Busier than Holly had ever seen it meant a ship on each landing pad, and a stack of supply crates sitting in the terminal that Sam was cataloguing. For Moone’s Landing, it qualified as a rush.
With only two usable pads, those who were staying for the festival would have to keep their transports outside the dome on the moon’s surface.
That was where Rasker’s transport sat when he was there.
Sam catalogued all ships stored on the surface and flew them remotely to a pad when the visitor was ready to depart.
Holly stood beside Sam, checking the delivery manifest on her d-pad against what had arrived.
Carbohydrate powder. Binding syrup. Protein solids.
A crate of sweetener tablets. Two containers of cooking oil.
A crate full of enough spirits and wines to make the lounge bar look filled out.
A box of real flour, which she had splurged on with her own money because there were recipes that would likely be better with it, and because the festival was worth the expense.
“That’s everything,” Sam said, ticking off the last item. He straightened and wiped his hands on his jumpsuit. “Short one crate of the protein solids. Shipping manifest says it’s on a delayed transport. Should be here in two days.”
“Two days is fine. That’s still five days before the festival.” Holly tucked the d-pad under her arm. “How are the zigs?”
“Three are running.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the terminal counter. “Fourth one is fighting me. Motivator coil is shot. I’ll fabricate a replacement, if I have time.”
“Can we manage with three?”
“Should be able to. I mapped out a rotation. Pad to square, square to gardens, gardens to forest trailhead. If we stagger the trips, three can handle it. And we’re charging extra for the ride if they’re able to walk.
Most will walk, or have their own mode of personal transportation.
” He paused. “Have to warn you, the zigs don’t look great. ”
“You mentioned that.”
“Mentioning it again.” The hint of a smile crossed his face. “One of them makes a sound I can only describe as complaining.”
Holly laughed. “As long as it complains while moving, I’ll take it.”
Sam nodded and was quiet for a moment. He gazed out through the terminal’s wide window toward the landing pads, where a cargo vessel sat cooling after its delivery run.
The force field shimmered at full strength, steady and constant.
No more pulsing. No more seventy percent power.
Holly felt a small swell of pride every time she saw it.
“Got the path cleared,” Sam said, turning back.
“The forest trail?”
“Mish and I finished it yesterday. Widened the narrow sections, cut back the overgrowth, put in markers at every fork.” He shrugged one shoulder. “It’s a nice walk, actually. I hadn’t been out there in years.”
“That’s great news, Sam. Thank you.”
“Also put in a bench at the overlook point. There’s a spot where you can see through the dome, out to the gas giant we orbit.
Thought visitors might like to sit there.
” He said this in the same flat tone he used for everything, as if installing a bench with a view of a planet was the same as replacing a motivator coil.
Holly stared at him. “Sam. That’s a really thoughtful touch.”
He shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “It’s a bench. Had an extra one in one of the storage rooms.”
No matter how much he brushed off her praise, she knew Sam wanted to save this station.
Wanted to fiercely. And she wondered why.
How did he end up here, and why was he so determined to stay?
With his skills, he’d be snapped up by a bigger station and paid five times what he made here.
Yet, here he stayed. Holly hoped one day to hear his story.
But for now, she let it go. “What about reviews? Any new ones come in?”
Sam pulled up the station’s review feed on the terminal screen and turned it toward her. “Three this week. All from guests who stayed overnight.”
Holly leaned in and read. The first was a five out of ten, noting clean rooms and a pleasant atmosphere but limited dining options.
The second was a six, praising the air quality and the “charming village-style architecture.” The third was a seven.
A seven. The guest had written that the homemade baked goods in the lounge were “unexpectedly delightful,” their shielding plate damage was repaired quickly, and that the station had “a warmth that larger outposts lack.”
“A seven,” Holly said. “Sam. We’ve never gotten a seven.”
“I know.” His lips twitched. “You should let Harry know.”
“He’ll be over the moon—literally— by the ‘unexpectedly delightful.’” She pressed her hand to her chest, then looked up suddenly. “You don’t think he wrote that one, do you?”
“Nah.” Sam scratched the back of his head with a smirk. “It would have mentioned mushrooms, if it was him. And anyway, I’m pretty sure I remember this visitor, with the shield damage. They were complimentary.”
Holly clapped her hands together. “Then that one’s going on the wall.”
“Don’t get carried away.”
She laughed. “I’m getting exactly the right amount of carried away. Just look at this.” She switched to the hotel booking screen and flourished a hand. “The hotel is fully booked for the night of the festival. Did you know that?”
Sam’s brows rose. That was, for Sam, the equivalent of a gasp. “Full?”
“Every room. First time in anyone’s memory, according to Alyce.
Harry’s channel is doing its job. He’s been posting clips of the outpost every day.
The gardens, the forest, the square. His shop, of course.
I saw one where he talked for eleven minutes about the aphrodisiac properties of a mold that glows in the dark. ”
“Eleven minutes.”
“I didn’t watch all eleven minutes,” she admitted.
“But lots of people did, Sam. Thousands of people.” Holly shook her head, still mildly baffled by the reach of Frolicking with Fungi.
“He also posted a clip of the view through the dome at sunset. It got more engagement than anything else he’s ever put up. ”
Sam was quiet, processing this. “People want to come here,” he said, not quite a question.
“Some of them do. A few, anyway. But a few is more than we had.” Holly looked out the terminal window at the landing pads and the shimmer of the force field and the dark sky beyond it, speckled with distant stars. “It’s a start.”
Sam followed her gaze. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, and then he said, “I bet your great-grandfather would have liked this.”
Holly’s throat tightened. She nodded once and they stood there for a moment, two people looking out at the same sky, before Sam turned back to the crates and got to work.