Chapter 42
Forty-Two
She wore a Sol-Arc work suit. The light beige, two-piece suit she had brought along but not worn since her mother had called it awful.
She had put it on that morning because she wanted to look like a serious station owner, someone who commanded respect, someone the inspectors would take seriously.
But the suit didn’t fit like it used to.
She had gained softness from baking and eating real food, and strength from physical work and gardening.
The suit pulled at the hips and strained across the shoulders and pinched at the collar, and every point of discomfort was a reminder that she was no longer the woman she had been when she’d last worn it.
It had felt good to be happy in her skin.
To wear flowing tunics and vibrant colors and jewelry for no purpose other than she liked it.
To look in the mirror and see herself, not a Sol-Arc employee, not a level three engineer in a professional suit, but Holly.
Just Holly. That woman felt very far away right now.
Inspector Tol’rak straightened to his full height. Inspector Drell tucked his d-pad under his arm. They turned to face Holly and the gathered residents, and their expressions revealed nothing.
“Ms. Greene-Moone,” Tol’rak said.
“Yes.”
“We have completed our review of Moone’s Landing, station designation Lars-Vector-2.” His soft voice carried across the quiet square. “Our findings are as follows.”
He listed them. One by one. Each and every deficiency afflicting the outpost. Every single defect that made this place she’d come to love lacking. They landed on Holly like individual blows to the gut. She stood very still and absorbed them, one after another, and the square was silent around her.
“Based on our assessment,” Tol’rak continued, “Moone’s Landing fails inspection on multiple points. The deficiencies documented today represent a significant departure from the minimum operational standards required for registered way station status.”
Drell spoke next, his gravelly voice cutting through the quiet. “Effective immediately, Moone’s Landing’s certification as a registered way station is suspended. The station will be removed from standard star charts and navigation systems used by commercial and civilian vessels.”
The words entered Holly’s ears and traveled to her brain through what felt like a long, narrow tunnel. She heard them. She understood them, but they couldn’t sink in. The ramifications were just too large and too catastrophic to process in that moment.
“What does that mean, practically?” she heard Mish ask. “Do we all have to leave?”
“That is up to the station’s owner,” Drell replied. “And if they can self-finance the functioning of this community.” His tone implied that he knew Holly could not.
“Any vessel not already planning to dock at Moone’s Landing will not find it on their navigation systems,” Tol’rak replied. “Existing bookings and scheduled stops will be honored for a period of ten days. After that, the station will receive no directed traffic.”
“No income,” Holly said, and her voice sounded like someone else’s.
“That is the practical effect, yes,” Inspector Tol’rak said.
Behind her, the reactions came like a wave.
“That’s not fair.” Harry’s voice, stripped of its usual warmth. “We just held a festival. People came. They were happy. You can’t erase that because of a few mechanical failures.”
“We perform inspections and issue decisions for the safety of all space travelers,” Drell said, unmoved. “Our findings are based on current conditions, not past events.”
“Current conditions are the result of a cascade of failures that happened within days of each other,” Alyce said, her tone sharp and controlled. “Does that not raise questions about the timing?”
“Our mandate is to assess operational readiness,” Tol’rak replied. “The cause of the failures is outside the scope of this inspection.”
“Outside the scope?” Sam’s voice was low. Dangerous. “You’re shutting us down and you don’t care why it happened?”
“We are suspending your certification, Mr…” Tol’rak consulted his pad.
“Sam.”
“Mr. Sam. We are not shutting you down. You may continue to operate. You may apply for reinspection at any time. And you may involve Galactic Enforcement if you have evidence that the damages to this outpost were deliberate acts of sabotage. That would change things, but absent an injunction by that body, Moone’s Landing will not appear on standard navigation charts until the deficiencies are addressed and a new review is passed. ”
“That is shutting us down,” Mish said quietly. “Without travelers, we can’t afford to fix anything. Without fixing things, we can’t pass reinspection. You’re trapping us.”
Tol’rak and Drell exchanged a glance. It was brief, and if there was sympathy in it, it was well hidden.
“We understand the difficulty,” Tol’rak said. “We recommend addressing the most critical deficiencies first and applying for expedited re-review. The process takes approximately eight to twelve months from the date of application.”
Eight to twelve months. Holly felt the number settle on her like dirt on a coffin.
The inspectors inclined their heads in a gesture that was polite and entirely inadequate, and walked back toward the spaceport, followed by their tight cloud of bots. The crowd parted for them without a word.
Holly stood in the square and watched them go. The voices of the residents rose around her, fragments of anger and disbelief and grief, but they reached her as a wall of noise, individual words indistinguishable from one another. Someone touched her arm. Someone said her name. She didn’t turn.
She pulled out her wrist comm and composed a message with numb fingers.
Mr. Binn. Moone’s Landing has failed inspection. Certification suspended. Must discuss the terms for a sale. Please advise on next steps.
She sent it and lowered her arm.
The crowd dispersed slowly. Holly felt hands on her shoulders, heard murmured words of strength and kindness that she couldn’t absorb.
Harry lingered, his face stricken, until Mish took his arm and guided him away.
Alyce stood beside Holly for a long moment without speaking, then squeezed her hand once, and left.
Sam was the last to go. He looked at Holly, and the defeat she had seen in his face eight days ago was there again, deeper now, and settled.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Don’t be.” Her voice cracked on the second word. “You did everything you could.”
He nodded once and walked away.
Holly stood alone in the square. The fountain sat broken and silent in the center. A sense of abandonment already stretched across the stone path in the uncirculated air.
She turned and walked back to the hotel.
The walk to room seventeen felt interminably long. She stopped at his door and knocked. The sound was small in the empty corridor.
Rasker opened the door. Behind him, she could see the room.
His personal things were packed. His clothes were folded in a travel container.
The compact NuProd unit, the one he’d set up in the lounge for the festival, sat beside it, in its case and ready for transport.
He was leaving. Perhaps he had been preparing to leave for days.
“Holly.” His expression shifted when he saw her face. “Come in. I need to tell you something. I think the inspectors made an error that we can—”
“No.” Her voice was flat. She couldn’t help it. There was nothing left in her to shape into warmth or nuance. “I’ll keep this quick.”
He stopped. His hand remained on the door as his eyes searched her face, and whatever he found there made his expression tighten.
“I’m going to sell the outpost to you,” she said.
“And whether or not you were playing a long game with me, and this was your plan all along, or if there was more—” This time she cut herself off with a curt shake of her head.
“It doesn’t matter. You put in the time.
You earned the commission. And, hey, we had a good time.
” There was bitterness, thick and sharp, woven into her words and she couldn’t bring herself to feel bad about it.
His gills quivered. It was the only part of him that moved. “I see.”
“There are conditions in my grandfather’s will that you should know about.
” She leaned against the doorframe because her legs were unreliable.
“If Moone’s Landing is sold, the proceeds don’t go to me or my family.
They go to the construction of a statue of Charles Moone, to be displayed at whatever monstrosity of a station replaces this one.
And the will specifies that the lowest offer be accepted, so lucky day for your clients.
My grandfather made sure that no one would profit from selling this place. It was his final act of spite.”
Rasker’s face remained perfectly still. No reaction. No softening. He held the controlled stillness of someone shutting down, feature by feature, until what remained was the consultant she had met on her first day. Polished. Professional. Unreadable.
“I didn’t know,” he said with the slightest nod.
Holly stared at him. She had walked down this hallway with fragile and desperate hope in her chest that he would say the thing she needed to hear.
That he would reach for her. That the man who had kissed her in the rain and carried her through his doorway would show up in this moment when she needed him most.
Instead, she got the consultant.
“I’ll contact Rest ’N Recharge with this new information.” His eyes flickered, fast and unguarded, but then it was gone. His voice was level. Businesslike. “I’ll be in touch, Holly.”
“You should speak with my lawyer, Mr. Binn.” Her voice was pure frost.
“Very well,” he replied, clipped. “I’ll be in touch with your lawyer.”
She looked at him for a moment. At the packed bags and the dismantled equipment and the man standing in the middle of it all with his hands at his sides and his face arranged into nothing.
“I was wrong about a lot of things,” she said quietly. She let the words carry every meaning she intended. The station. The future. Him. “Clearly.”
He didn’t respond. Or if he did, she didn’t hear it, because she had already turned and was walking back down the hallway. Each step was mechanical. Her rust-colored shoes padded softly on the floor, taking her away. Away from one of the most painful mistakes she could recall ever making.
She let herself into her living unit and closed the door.
Bean was on the couch. Luv was in her corner, her optical sensors dim. For once, the Homeboti didn’t say anything. The unit was quiet. The plants on the windowsills were wilting. Everything was just as she’d left it that morning, but nothing was the same.
“Luv, I want you to know that I won’t abandon you or Bean.
You’re coming back to Earth, or wherever, with me.
” Holly sat down on the couch and Bean crawled into her lap.
She’d need to start thinking about practical matters.
Like where she was going to live with these two.
“Unless you’d rather go with someone else. ”
“I’ll be staying with you, Holly,” Luv said quietly. “I don’t trust anyone else not to install that software patch.”
“I don’t either.” Holly smiled weakly. “Maybe I can beg to get my job back at Sol-Arc.”
“Don’t you even think about that right now,” Luv tutted, taking up a throw blanket and spreading it over Holly and Bean. “You’ve been going too hard these past weeks. What you need is sleep, and a lot of it. Lie down, now. Close your eyes. I’ll wake you if anything happens you need to know about.”
Holly didn’t have the will to refuse. She slid to the side, so she was lying down on the couch, put her arms around Bean and let her eyes fall closed.
She had come here three months ago carrying houseplants and a bruised ego and a hope that she could bring this place back to its former glory.
To defy her estranged grandfather, and to see her great-grandfather’s vision.
She had pulled the coverings off the windows and let the light in.
She had baked muffins that were terrible and then muffins that were good.
She’d met people who became her friends, fixed things that were broken, and stood in the rain at two in the morning with a man she’d fallen in love with.
And none of it had been enough.
Holly pressed her face into Bean’s fur and held on.