Page 32 of Skinwalker's Bane
“They’re lichens and moss,” Devin told him. “They only need the moisture that the humans living in the Palatine give off to survive and lots of light.”
“That’s why this is called the Rock House, I guess,” Adam said.
She tapped her knuckles against the wall. “And because it’s made of stone. It’s the only one on the Endurance. The other two houses on the Table are the usual plasteel and carbon fiber structures.”
Adam planted his big hand against the wall as he came up to it. “It’s cold,” he said, sounding surprised. “Yet it’s warm out here.”
“It cools off a lot faster than carbon,” Devin told him. “Come inside. Would you like something to drink?”
“Coffee,” he said flatly.
She was pleased. She wanted coffee, herself. She moved through to the tiny little kitchen at the back of the house and brought up the lights, then dialed in her favorite recipe, doubled it and let the compiler go to work.
Adam followed her in, turning his head as he took in the small table and pair of chairs under it, the polished stone counter and the blinds over the window, which the house AI had pulled aside now the daylights had moved on.
“You’re not one of those people who insist that only handmade food is real food?” he asked as he moved over to the counter.
“I might be, if I could spare the time to make it. Printing is faster and neater.” She put the first cup on the counter in front of him. “Sit,” she said. For the first time she could see the narrowness of his eyes and the drawn look about them. “You’re tired.”
“I’m always completely buggered after a shift,” he assured her. He picked up the coffee. “This will help, thanks.”
Guilt stirred. “I shouldn’t have bothered you, not right after a shift.”
“I wouldn’t have come if it was too much of a bother,” he said. “I’m just curious enough about your talk with the Captain that sleep can wait a bit.”
Devin studied him. “Well, you know your own physiology better than I do, so I will take your word for it.”
He tilted his head. “I’ve never seen anyone do that before.”
“Do what?”
“Most people, if I say I’m fine, would follow up with ‘are you sure?’ or ‘maybe another time’ and second guess me into a coma. You just nodded and moved on.”
Devin smiled. “Maybe I just want to talk tosomeoneand get it all off my chest.”
“Don’t you have that man, your manager, for that?”
“Not today,” she said evasively, unease making her gut stir. Bishan had sent a dozen message since she had gotten home, wanting updates and status reports and more. She had finally directed the house AI to put all the messages from Bishan on hold until she changed the order. That had just made her feel even more guilty.
Adam was here now. The decision was made, the deed done. She relaxed and picked up her coffee. “I didn’t get my meeting with the Captain. Well, not exactly.”
“What happened?” Adam asked, settling on the stool in front of the counter.
Devin took him through her day, telling him every small detail about what had happened from the moment she had stepped off the train and walked through the Colinas to the Bridge Gate and met Everett.
She did the same with Bishan, when he wanted to deconstruct an event—even those occasions where Bishan was present, they would later run through the entire event, analyzing people, motives, hidden agendas and more.
This time, though, with Adam, Devin found she wasalsoadding in more than she would ever bother Bishan with. The slew of feelings that had washed through her when the Captain had asked her to attend the meeting. The sudden realization that anyone Devin ever talked to could supply a wealth of ideas if only she listened properly. Devin looked at Adam. “It was something you said I should do and you were right.”
He looked surprised, lowering his coffee cup slowly. “Me?” he said blankly.
“I don’t think you meant it quite the way it has worked out, although it was a good idea. I can’t seem to turn my mind off since I started asking people questions as I did Everett. There seems to be so much wrong on this ship I was never aware of before. No, not wrong, exactly. Things that could be shifted, or changed a little. The difference those changes would make to people’s lives would be enormous. They’re simple changes, mostly, although Everett’s problem isn’t—”
“It is, actually. It’s just one of perception. Mass perception,” Adam said. “You need to talk to Cai one day. He’ll send you to sleep with the history of mass perception, cultural shifts and social structures.” He grinned. “Maybe not. I suspect you eat and drink that stuff. Me…I get bored within thirty seconds. Tankball, it ain’t.”
“Tankball. Ugh.”
“And you just proved my point.”
