“Where can I find you, if I have questions?” Holly asked, because she would have questions. Lots of them.
“Sam and I took over most of the day-to-day when Charles fell into decline, so I’m a bit all over these days. But if you do need me, you’ll find me. Or ring my comm. The outpost isn’t as big as it looks.” She slapped her thighs in a gesture of finality. “Well, I’ll leave you to get settled, then.”
“Wait.” Holly stepped forward. “Please.”
Alyce turned to look at her. The woman’s gold eyes were steady.
“What happened here?” Holly gestured around the dismal apartment, but she meant more than that. The flickering force field. The sluggish turbines. The struggling plants. The empty storefronts and the broken fountain and the emptiness that seemed as oppressive as it was pervasive. “This…decay doesn’t look recent. It’s been going on for years, hasn’t it?”
Alyce met her gaze. There was a sadness there, but beneath it, frustration flashed.
“Yes, it has. I think your grandfather carried something heavier than any of us were privy to, and the result was he stopped caring,” Alyce said in a softer tone. “Since he controlled everything here, there was nothing the rest of us could do but watch it all fall to ruin.” She paused. “This is yours now, and we’reallwondering what you’re going to do.”
She left without another word, leaving Holly staring after her in the living unit that was now hers, with a dog and a Homeboti who definitely weren’t, but who depended on her nonetheless.
The weight of it pressed down on her. The outpost. The people. The failing systems and the years of neglect. All of it was hers now. All of it was her responsibility.
What have I done?
Five
Holly did not leave the living unit that day.
She told herself it was because she was exhausted from the eight-day journey, which was true. Also, the apartment needed attention before she could function in it. That was also true. But the real reason was simpler and less flattering: she was afraid to go out there and face what was hers.
Instead, she started with the windows.
The plastoid slabs that Charles had used to block them off came away more easily than she expected. She gripped the edge of the nearest one and pulled, and it released with a dry snap, revealing a window streaked with dust but otherwise intact. Light poured through, golden and warm, and the air in the room seemed to shift.
She moved to each window, pulling off the coverings and stacking them beside the door. It made her feel like she had a modicum of control over her surroundings, which was absurd, because she did not. Holly hadchosento come here but had never felt more in over her head in her entire life. When pulling off the last one, the brittle material snapped in half. A sharp edge scraped her palm. It didn’t draw blood, but Holly cursed and shook her hand.
“Your bio signs indicate lower than ideal blood sugar,” Luv said, rolling over to her. “Let me fetch you something to eat from the lounge.”
Hollywashungry, but she winced. “The lounge? I’ve heard my cousin is a bad cook.”
“He is. I was referring to the nutrient production device. It makes three dishes.”
“Only three?”
“That’s right.” Luv’s rollerball squeaked as she shifted slightly. “The NuProd offers hot porridge, cold porridge, and a protein bar.”
“Okay.” Holly rubbed her head where that headache had intensified. “I’ll get it myself.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” Luv said, gliding around Holly. “Moones are scary when they’re peckish.”
What?“I can?—”
“IsaidI’ll get it for you,” Luv said firmly. “What do you want to eat?”
“Hot porridge, I guess. Or maybe a protein bar? Which is less awful?”
“I wouldn’t know, would I? I’ll bring you both.” Luv paused at the door and looked back. “You don’t have to save the station on day one, you know. Sitdown, Ms. Greene-Moone.”
It was what she needed to hear, even though she’d have preferred the words to be delivered in a gentler tone. Alone, Holly let out a shaky breath and sat beside the dog who continued to ignore her. Tomorrow, she’d have more information.Tomorrow, she’d have it all under control.
A knock at the door startled her, and thankfully put a pause on her spiraling worries. She got up and answered the door, just to end up backing up and blinking at the sight of an enormous man standing in her doorway. He wore sturdy pants and leather boots, and an apron smeared with grease. Behind him, on apowered flatbed that hovered six inches off the floor, were her luggage crates. All of them, stacked neatly.
Seeing him, Bean leaped off the couch and trotted his way over to the man, his tail wagging furiously. The man smiled and bent to give the dog scratches behind the ear. “Hello, Bean,” he murmured. “Happy to be home, eh?” By the time he stood back up, the smile was gone. “You must be the new owner.”
