The colonnade was another place Pendt began to frequent. The food shops and restaurants were already familiar with her because of her work in hydroponics, but now she talked with all the shopkeepers and store owners. She learned the ins and outs of the gossip chain. Dr. Morunt often joined her for lunch, and the two of them would talk about æther, but never family. It was pleasant.
And the people loved her, which was the strangest thing. They would say hello in the morning when she walked past. A café owner would have a flavour of juice she hadn’t tried yet and press it into her hand when she was on her way to operations. A parent would thank her for increasing the grain yield. A worker would wish her a good shift.
At first, she hardly knew how to react. She was thanked more times in a single morning’s walk to work than she had been in her entire life. She’d never had this sort of power before—she’d barely had any power at all—and she found that she liked it. It wasn’t like being the captain, where everyone relied on her whims and wishes. It was like being part of a crew, a real one . . . or a family. This was what it was supposed to be like. Mutual, genuine, caring, and real. She loved every single minute.
Her favourite time of the day was still the evening, when she and Fisher were home in the apartment, sitting in the lounge. She would read or watch him play a game, or they would talk about something she’d observed during the day. It wasn’t exactly an idle time; Pendt often found her brain made connections during those quieter moments that had eluded her in the bustle of the day, but it was peaceful. With her feet up and a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, Pendt was comfortable. She liked comfort quite a lot.
Fisher sighed and put the game controller down.
“Are you tired?” Pendt asked. It was still early.
“No,” he said. “This game is really better with two people.”
Pendt had tried playing, but she didn’t entirely grasp the difference between moving in real life and moving in the game and, as a result, just dragged Fisher down with her. He was patient, but it was hardly relaxing for either of them. He was used to playing with his brother.
“I know this is going to sound strange, but I think it must be kind of nice to miss your brother,” she said. “I certainly don’t miss any of mine.”
“He’s always talked about leaving,” Fisher said. “And I always knew he’d find a way to. I even wanted it, because I knew I’d get to run the station if he left. But I didn’t imagine this part. The part where he was just gone.”
“I’m sure he feels the same way,” Pendt said.
“Do you think we’ll hear from him?” Fisher asked.
Pendt considered her answer. She had learned how station communications worked, but she knew that Fisher meant a more personal message. It was unlikely that Ned would be able to tell them anything detailed, but she suspected Fisher would appreciate literally anything his brother were to send.
“He might,” she said. “When it’s safe for him to do so.”
They heard astonishingly little about the rebellion. It was nothing but rumours and stories, supplemented by the occasional ship that came out to Brannick Station for supplies. The bulk of the fighting was based out of the stations that were closer to the Hegemony’s base in the Stavenger solar system. There wasn’t much in the way of reliable news. Most of what they heard came thirdhand through merchants, who reported that prices on Katla were high, indicating an influx of people. They didn’t know where Ned had been sent, and none of the news was specific enough for them to make even a general guess about where he was or what he was doing.
“What are you reading?” Fisher changed the subject.
“Just a story,” Pendt said. “It’s about a girl who finds out she’s the descendant of a powerful warrior and has to find the others in her group to fight injustice.”
“One of Ned’s?” Fisher asked.
“Yes,” Pendt said. “He told me I could use his library if I wanted. I don’t touch anything else in the room.”
“It’s all right,” Fisher said. “We both live here. Maybe I should start acting like it.”
He looked at the mess of datapads and half-empty cups on the table in the dining area. He could use the office. Maybe leave the door open, but still.
“It would be nice to have that table available,” Pendt said. “Not that I plan to have any parties, but it’s the perfect size for the control group of the plants I’m experimenting on right now.”
“I’d hate to get in the way of science,” Fisher said. “Will you help me move tomorrow?”
“Of course,” Pendt said. “But you have to wash the dishes.”
“Done,” Fisher said.
It was a new system, and they were still figuring it out, but they were going to make it work.
18.
THE BEST THING ABOUT Brannick Station, after being treated like a human being and having the availability of food, was time. The station clock ran the same number of hours as the Harland did, so there was literally no more time in the day, but Pendt felt every minute like it was new. She had places to be and she went to them, but there was none of the malaise that had dogged her in the galley or inertia that kept her from resting in the brig. Even her boredom was her own.
Not that Pendt was bored. She followed Dr. Morunt’s advice and took to daily walks around the station. She learned the patterns of the ore processors and the dockhands. She watched the shop owners and food-service workers. They seemed happy enough, which was new for her, but she supposed that it might be because they were both paid a good wage and protected by a guild. While in no hurry to return to food service herself, Pendt could understand the joy in watching other people eat if you weren’t hungry yourself. She liked cooking—Fisher told her that she was really “assembling,” but she ignored him—and she was coming to understand the artistry of it.
Pendt imagined that the doctor intended her to stick to the colonnade and operations, but she ranged farther than that in an effort to get to know her new home. Parts of the Harland had been shut to her, and parts of Brannick were too, but they were mostly other families’ apartments and private spaces. There was no public area that she was barred from.
So she walked. She covered every inch of the original station cylinder, the colonnade, and the docking ports. From that original construction, Brannick Station grew like two branches of a tree. One arm of the station housed her beloved hydroponics and other systems that kept the station livable, as well as all of the ore processing. Ships brought ore to Brannick from other places besides Alterra. The Harland’s run was the longest and slowest, and there were newer ships to make the other runs. Here, it was refined into solid burning fuel or smelted down for the raw materials that could make metal parts. The slag was dumped, which Pendt found absolutely enthralling. She was unaccustomed to waste.