Holly answered each customer with a steady assurance she didn’t feel:Yes. Full refund. We deeply apologize for the inconvenience.All the professional language to make people relax just a little bit.
Within the hour, the hotel emptied. Holly watched from the lobby doors as guests filed out into the square, carrying their bags, their faces tight with concern. Some moved quickly. Others lingered, looking back at the hotel with the expression of people who were confused and wanted to ask questions, but knew they probably didn’t want the answers. The human woman in the battered flight suit paused on the steps and caught Holly’s eye. She gave a small nod before heading toward the spaceport.
Holly stood there until the last guest was gone. The garlands Harry had strung on the lampposts hung still in the uncirculated air, their metallic caps catching what little light the dome’s early cycle provided. Less than twelve hours ago, this place had been alive with music and laughter and people buying cupcakes. Now, the square was empty. Holly hugged her arms around her, unable to shake off a sense that what had happened was not a coincidence. That the other shoe had not yet dropped. It was an absolutely awful feeling.
With Luv doing a sweep through the hotel just in case they’d missed anyone, Holly joined Alyce and Rasker, and the three of them headed for the spaceport.
The control tower sat at the top of the structure, above the landing pads, accessed by the same elevator Holly had takenon her first day at Moone’s Landing. She stepped out into the saucer-shaped room and looked around.
She had never been up all the way up here before. This was Sam’s domain. Since he’d never invited her to see it, and she trusted him, Holly had left him to it. The circular room curving walls lined with screens and interface panels. It looked as antiquated as it was, with equipment that predated Holly’s career by decades. But it was clean and maintained and did its job. A way station as small as Moone’s Landing didn’t need the newest tech to direct a handful of spacecraft on and off its two simple landing pads.
The screens showed the landing pads from multiple angles, plus readouts of atmospheric data, power grid status, and ship traffic. There were five work stations. Four were empty and one was occupied by Sam, who didn’t turn to acknowledge them. His attention was on the controls before him as he coordinated ship departures one by one.
Holly’s gaze fell to the landing pads below. Two ships were departing, their engines flaring blue-white against the dark sky. Beyond them, on the surface of the moon outside the dome, she could see more vessels remotely powering up. Their lights blinked on as they prepared to lift off and take their place on the next open pad, to pick up their passengers.
“Just a moment,” Sam said as his hands flew over the controls.
“No rush.” Holly said it softly. Her chest tightened at the sight of Sam, who she’d never seen as anything other than composed and steady. The man at the console had sweat on his brow and a jaw clenched so tight, the tendons were visible in his neck. His cybernetic fingers moved across the controls with mechanical precision, but his biological hand trembled. When he had a break in the departures and turned to the three peoplestanding there, Holly saw something in his face that stopped her cold.
Defeat. Sam had spent years keeping the struggling station alive, and now here he was, watching it fail before his eyes.
“Sam.” Holly’s voice broke on his name.
He turned back to the console and guided another ship off the pad. His voice was flat. “Should have everyone clear in twenty minutes.”
“What can we do?” Rasker asked from behind Holly.
“The water system is the priority. Whatever blew down there needs to be found and fixed, but the caverns are flooded and I can’t get in. The water is mineralized and it’ll wreck the equipment if it sits too long.” He glanced at Rasker. “You can breathe down there, in the water. The cavern pools connect to the water station through a passage on the east side. If you can get in that way and assess the damage, that’s more than I can do from up here.”
Rasker nodded once. “I know the layout. Can’t repair anything down there, but I’ll record everything I see.”
“Good. Holly.” Sam turned to her, and the defeat in his face was still there, but underneath it was the stubbornness that had kept him at this station for years. “I need you on the power grid. The spaceport’s power pulses are back and I can’t track the source while I’m managing departures. Console three has the diagnostic feeds. You’ll know what you’re looking at.”
“On it.” Holly moved to console three and sat down. The interface was old but intuitive, laid out in the same logical architecture she’d seen in station schematics for years. Power distribution. Load balancing. Grid monitoring. She pulled up the diagnostic and began scrolling through the feeds, her engineer’s brain clicking into gear despite the cold knot in her stomach.
“Alyce,” Sam continued. “I need you on the ground. Coordinate whatever’s left of the guest departures and thencheck on the residents. If this gets worse, we may need to evacuate them, too. Prep for that. I don’t want to do it, but I want to be ready.”
Alyce was already moving toward the elevator. “I’ll start with Mish and the children. They’re the most vulnerable.” She paused at the door. “Sam. When did you last eat?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Itdoes.” Alyce tossed back her braids. “I’ll bring you some food when I’m done down there.”
He waved a hand absently, and turned back to his console to guide the next ship clear.
Alyce held the lift door for Rasker, who caught Holly’s eye across the room. The look they exchanged was brief and contained everything they couldn’t say. Then he stepped into the elevator and the doors closed behind him.
Holly turned to the console. The diagnostic feeds scrolled across the screen in columns of data, and she began to read them, tracing each line from source to end point, building the map in her head.
Her wrist comm buzzed. She glanced at it and stifled a groan.
It was an incoming holo-call from Beenan. He wanted an answer. Of course, he did. And he deserved one. She stared at the invitation. Time seemed to slow down. Maybe it took a crisis for the choice to become clear:This or that. The fork in the road no longer lay in the distance. It was right here, now. In front of her.
She dismissed the holo-call invitation. Her fingers moved of their own will, composing the only message that was true:Thank you for the offer, but this is my home. I’ve decided to stay here.She sent it before doubts could creep in. Before fear made her second guess herself.
There. It was done. She’d cut ties with Sol-Arc. Quit. Officially. It felt flippant, like a whim, and Beenan may read itthat way. Sol-Arc Industries employees did not leave the firm without a series of exit interviews, nondisclosure agreements, and counseling sessions (honestly), but just like that, Holly was done.
Or rather, she’d finally found the courage to say what she’d known since walking out of Beenan’s office that last time, months ago. She could not go back. Shewouldnot go back. The old Holly was gone.ThisHolly needed to fight for what was hers, or spend her last drop of energy trying. Holly silenced her comm and turned back to the screen. Her hands didn’t shake.
