In an effort to increase the pressure within the park, air flows steadily out of the compressors and into the vast space. It currently blows over fields of bare rock and loose rubble.

  Excellent. The temporary airlocks bracketing the entrances slow work down enormously. Once the park is freely accessible, they will be removed and reinstalled at the next expansion site.

  Dark brown dust drifts through the air. Some powdery soil, so light and dry that the breeze takes it easily. A shuttle flies overhead, scanning for particulates, but the swirling dust inside will help workers find any air leaks. Everything that doesn't escape, the greater majority, will settle eventually.

  The slight electrostatic charge of the camera lenses helps to keep them clean and functional. Surprisingly, Bucket is not the creator of the new design. That honor belongs to a group of students.

  The Ship-Mother likes giving minor but reoccurring problems from her work to the engineering students, a habit I now see the value of. Not only does it familiarize the students with the kinds of problems they'll be regularly facing, but it frees the Ship-Mother to work on more vital concerns. Of course, the experienced engineers teaching the classes only send along the best of their students' solutions.

  Her time, and thus my own as I wait on her, is currently being wasted. She sits at her desk arguing with one of Jetanda's acolytes. Eva is clearly not convinced that a portion of the casino's profits needs to be separate for tax purposes. They'll work something out, eventually.

  Workers roll barrels into the park, unconcerned with the slight pressure differences. The compacted plant fibers of the containers crack and spread under the barrels' weight. The workers can be as harsh on the containers as they wish, as the shattered remains will break down quickly into more dirt. Jokes and laughter accompany their labor as often as grunting and harsh language.

  Pressed into the dried fibers are live seeds and spores, ready to provide the first layer of ground cover. Other plants, already grown to maturity, are being carried in by other workers. The root systems are also within similar wrappings. They'll need a good wetting before they can break down into nutrient rich soil.

  The workers react as a group when I trigger the sprinkler test. Almost as one they seek the ready shelter available in the many pillars spread across the space. I only run it long enough to wet the soil slightly, then shut it off. The workers come out smiling and joking.

  I watch as they pile the loose dirt around the bushes and flowering shrubs. The workers actually yell out a request for more rain. I'm happy to comply. Like the residents, I too am nostalgic for weather. When water begins running down the banks of the artificial stream I halt the precipitation. The automatic controls of the system should work just fine, but I'll need to keep track of it and alter it occasionally so as not to erode the terrain.

  Yells from Eva's office make me hopeful that the meeting is nearing an end.

  "How can you say that!"

  "Easily," yells Eva, standing with both arms pressed onto her desk. "You're a wacko. Wacko."

  "Please, calm down," pleads the taller acolyte. His gray tipped ears twitch nervously. "Flowing sky, I'm sorry."

  Eva glares at the priest, her slim face dark with anger. She takes a deep breath and then another before she calls for me.

  "Mos Denn, I could use your assistance, here."

  "Ship-Mother?"

  "Good, that was fast," she says, brightening. "Please explain to my friend here that you don't need to be given any of the casino's revenue."

  That's an odd request. She's right, though. I don't need any more of the proceeds from that establishment.

  "Very well. The station already receives the amount agreed upon by previous negotiations. As a station employee, I draw a portion of the station's available funds, part of which comes from the casino, regularly as pay."

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  A smile creeps across her face as I continue.

  "In fact, the casino also pays me directly for my services. At least a portion of the drinks served by your establishment are supplied by myself at below market rates."

  She makes a stifled choking sound but manages to maintain her smile. "Now, does that sound like mistreatment to you? Thank you, Mos. That's all I needed."

  "No problem at all. Enjoy the rest of your meeting, Ship-Mother."

  She's likely to remain in negotiations for some time. The park is coming along nicely and doesn't need my supervision. Perhaps Donna could use my assistance? At the very least, it would be nice to know who she ends up selecting for her team.

  It takes longer to find her than I at first imagine. Off duty, she's harder to track down but I find her sitting in a cafe with those she will be leading.

  The cafe is small and dimly lit with subtle music playing in the background. A high-topped copper bar dominates one side of the place, selling drinks. A door beside the bar leads into the kitchen. Round tables crafted of gleaming nickel, dot the floor. Donna sits at a table in a shady corner.

  With her are the pilot, Zsuchus Parc in his flight suit, and three others. One I recognize quickly as Benn Pink, the overworked nurse. He looks better after resting, though his face shows premature wrinkling from his stressful habits.

  The two others work in the command room as data analysts. Minor bureaucrats, both of them. An excitement fills them as they sit at the table, gesturing animatedly. The first, Grita Nons, sips at her drink and smiles, nodding along to her partner as he speaks.

  "This is just what we needed," Fren Josun says, waving his arms around. "A chance to earn some distinction."

  "We weren't going anywhere," agrees Grita, setting her drink down. Wan and thin, the administrators could benefit from some time under a warm sun.

  "Speak for yourselves," Benn replies glumly. "The chance of a lifetime just came into work, and you guys are gonna drag me away from it to go dig in a trash pile. Thanks."

  Donna laughs confidently. "Blue scales have already been studied, what more is there for you to learn from her? But with us, you'll be the first to get to document anything we find. And we will find something, be sure of that."

  Benn shrugs not impressed.

  Zsuchus tries to wave over the waitress but is ignored. "So what if it is all garbage? It'll be alien garbage older than our whole species. Besides," he continues, glaring at the Tserri miner that the waitress is spending her time chatting with, "when we come back, we'll have stories to tell. That'll win us something you can't buy around here."

  "Not just the old tail," complains Benn. "We don't even have names for the other tribals. Maybe one of them is like Gelly and will get better?"

  "Maybe," concedes Fren. "But what if we find something that can help them all recover?"

  "Don't get your hopes too high," cautions Donna. "The only thing we know for sure is that the structure is very, very old. Maybe it predates the tribals completely. Who knows? It could be the only thing we find is alien music and a lot of mold."

  "Alien mold," interjects Fren. Grita giggles and Zsuchus grins cockily. Benn just sighs.

  "Whatever," Donna announces. "The structure itself is worth studying. Those bombs melted bedrock, but the material of the structure isn't even singed. If we could put that on our suits, our ships, we'd be invincible."

  That causes the others to all turn to face her. An appraising look crosses Benn's features.

  "That would be worth going after," he states quietly. The others around the table nod their agreement.

  "Glad that's settled," declares Donna, rising from her seat. "First thing tomorrow morning, get your suits from Glian's garage. Meet me at the secondary tower before first shift ends."

  I wait for her to exit the cafe. Donna walks confidently at first, but slumps in near exhaustion after rounding a corner. She stops to rest in a quiet passage, leaning against the cool stone.

  "Well done, Donna," I congratulate her from speakers hidden in a ground level maintenance panel. She jumps three ubits in the air and lands in a crouch, claws spread dangerously. "Are you alright?"

  She glares into the distance, shaking. Suddenly she loses her balance and tips backwards. She lands with a grunt and drops her arms limply. "Don't scare me like that," she says weakly.

  "You act as if you just escaped from danger. Like a young general after their first battle, even. Are you sure you're alright?"

  Donna nods tiredly. "Too much stress, I guess. I thought Benn was going to walk out and I just really need a medic on the team." She breathes quietly, trying to calm down.

  There's more that she isn't saying. For instance, I know of the application she and Skint had jointly placed for a larger dwelling. Sharing the space entitles them to more room, as well as allowing them to share the financial responsibilities. I'd be stressed too if I were forced to rely on Skint paying his half of rent.

  "I was hoping you'd be willing to do me a favor, actually," I admit. Her breathing catches slightly but she gestures for me to continue. "I have an idea I wanted to try, but I need the Ship-Mother's approval. If you were to join the presentation, I think Eva would be much more willing to approve."

  "Has she already turned you down?"

  "No. She's simply been very busy. But she has shown a remarkable willingness to make time to listen to you and the other security squad leaders."

  "Ah ha."

  "Let me explain it to you first, before you decide."

  "Fine," she declares. She stands up, wiping dust from her garments with two claws and using a third to balance against the wall. "I needed to let her know the team's ready, anyway."