Aetherbound - E.K. Johnston Page 0,57

Brannick Station, she had to belong to it.

The documentation was fairly clear cut, all things considered. Dulcie had done countless weddings on the station, but this was her first marriage ever, and she’d made sure to access all the information the historical database would give her, apparently. Pendt had read the contract the day she signed it, but going over it now, she appreciated it thoroughness. She had married Ned, but it was Fisher, as head of the family, who controlled her future. Ned’s death didn’t change that. She was a Brannick until she died.

Pendt called up the secondary contract, the one Ned had signed to ease his conscience over the whole affair. He’d written it himself, guaranteeing Pendt full rights to her body, her assets, and as much autonomy as the station could allow her. She cried a little bit as she read it. Ned had been so sweet. The two contracts didn’t contradict each other, which was what Pendt had been worried about. Her aunt was very good at finding loopholes, and if one existed in the second contract, Pendt had to know in order to prepare herself. But all seemed well enough.

The door hissed, and Dulcie came back into her office.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” she asked.

Pendt ceded her chair to her.

“Yes,” she said. “I think we are all safe with the original arrangement.”

“That ship of yours,” Dulcie said. “There’s something not quite right about it.”

“You think?” Pendt said.

“I mean, everything is always accounted for perfectly,” Dulcie clarified. “In two decades, you’d think there’d be some kind of oversight with the manifest.”

“You haven’t spent much time with my aunt,” Pendt pointed out. “Captain Arkady knows everything about the Harland. It’s almost uncanny.”

“Maybe,” Dulcie said. “But what kind of ship that size has an entirely empty hold when it comes into the only large station it encounters in two decades?”

“What?” Pendt said. Then she remembered her passage through the lower hold, how everything was clean and there was no sign of any passengers having spent years living there. “Oh, the lower hold. That’s for passengers. They’re usually outgoing, to work on the mining colonies.”

“If you say so,” Dulcie said. “Anyway, the quartermaster has several options for you, whenever you’re ready. It’s a question of location, really. The places you work on the station are pretty spread out.”

“Thank you,” Pendt said, accepting the datapad from her. “I’ll take a look and think about what I want. It should probably be nearer operations, though. That’s where I’m needed the most urgently.”

“True enough,” Dulcie said.

Pendt bid her goodbye and headed out onto the colonnade. She stopped for a snack at one of the restaurants and sat chewing thoughtfully while she turned her discussion with Dulcie over in her mind. Pendt had been quick to dismiss the foreman’s suggestions in conversation, that there was something shady about the Harland, but now that she was mulling it over, Pendt was forced to admit Dulcie might be right. She didn’t know why she felt so defensive about it. She wasn’t a Harland anymore and she was never going back. But she’d been on that ship for almost eighteen years. Whatever took place on board, she was party to, whether she liked it or not.

There was one person who might know. Dr. Morunt resolutely refused to discuss his sister with her, but maybe if she explained that it was necessary, he would open up. She hated to ask anyone to access painful memories. She knew how difficult they were to bury and unlearn, but she had a feeling she was going to need answers.

Pendt finished her snack and turned in her dishes. Several people came up to her to inquire about her health and Fisher’s. She told them that Fisher was doing well—the truth—but that he might be working a bit too hard. This received understanding nods, and she promised everyone that she was keeping an eye on him, which was also true.

Making her way along the colonnade, Pendt took time to look in shop windows and watch station residents go about their business. It was a system she never tired of: the flow of goods made on the station or imported from Katla, the ebb of conversation and movement in the crowd around her. Today it was even more comforting. Ned was gone, but Brannick Station was able to continue to function because of what he had done when he was still alive.

At last, she made her way to the infirmary