Page 52 of Star-Born Anomaly
“Confiscated ships, shuttles, and transports.”
“Wait.” She gripped the edge of the counter. “You were going to steal to get us off world?”
“Adaptability is key to the success of my mission.” He said the phrase more monotone than his previous answers, like he was repeating someone else’s words.
That halted her questions for a while, her mind filled with fear for what would happen if she traveled with him.
When he stroked a leaf, she said, “You seem to like it in here.”
There was a pause before he answered. “Yes. This section of your outpost reminds me of home.”
“You have greenhouses?”
“Something similar, yes.”
And that was the first thing he’d told her that made Sector Ten not sound as scary. Of course they would have plants. Every station and ship needed bio life for the people to survive, for food and fresh air. Thin layers of leafy plants were built in between decks for oxygen, and depending on the size of the ship or station, it would have dozens of hydroponics bays to feed the inhabitants. Arboretums too, along with smaller green spaces, all fed by a network of synth lights to feed the plants.
Refocusing on her plants, she continued her work, pruning dead leaves, turning the pots, and making sure they had the right amount of fertilizer and water. Beside her, Iax mimicked the process, making the work go twice as fast.
She flicked her gaze from the pot in front of her to Iax.
“How big is the habitable section of Sector Ten?”
“Very large. Many live there.”
She wasn’t surprised. Hundreds of people had comprised the original crew of theCalypso, and many more had pilgrimaged to the nebula since.
The structure of their game had evaporated, so she asked another. “How many hydroponics bays do you need for food?” Maybe that would give her a more tangible grasp of their population.
“Our food sources are not like yours, but we sustain ourselves.”
She searched his face, getting the sense he didn’t want to expand on the answer.What was really hidden inside the nebula?
Wynn didn’t ask the question aloud as she set the pot in its place on the rack. They moved to a different section, these plants some of the largest in the greenhouse.
“You want to return, don’t you?” she asked after fertilizing another plant.
He nodded once. “Very much.”
Her fingers rested on the edge of the pot as she stared at him. Backlit by all the plants sitting in their rows, his pale skin glowed. Like he belonged among the greenery.
“What do you miss the most?” The volume of her voice had lowered, almost reverently.
His head tilted. “The noise.”
Without music playing, she supposed this place was rather quiet, but if her thoughts were calm, she’d found the silence comforting.
She refocused on her plant. “What kind of noise?” Maybe she should find another spaceball game to listen to.
“Voices.”
Her fingers stilled, and she lifted her head. “A bunch of chatterboxes, huh?”
His eyes softened, and her chest squeezed. “Yes.”
They completed rack after rack while the snowstorm raged outside and the light dimmed. Weariness settled into her bones, telling her she needed to rest. Emotional turmoil had taken up most of life over the past days, weeks even, and her body was done with it.
But the darker it grew outside, the more nerves assaulted her.
