“Shig has a study that he lets out. Only room for one, and the futon that he’s so proud of is sort of like a medieval torture rack. Ah, and then there’s the rooms that Inga lets out to itinerant Wild Ones.”

“What’s a Wild One?” Clarice asked, fixing her nut-brown gaze on Dek.

“We’re Wild Ones,” Dek told her with a facetious grin. “Kylee and me. We mostly live out in the bush. I have a claim out past the Briggs place. Kylee, well, she’s in town because Tip had some creature eat its way into his leg. He’s in the hospital, recovering. Raya says he’ll live, but whatever proteins—”

“Fascinating,” Falise’s voice dripped acid. “What about the Corporate housing? I heard something about that.”

“If you want,” Dek told her, sharing a glance with the delighted Kylee. “But there’s not much privacy for fancy folks. Just beds in cubicles. But there’s always room these days. You see, the crew down at Corporate Mine? Most of them have bought houses. Or married partners with housing here.”

Ednund climbed the three steps, opened the door, and entered. Falise, with lifted upper lip, followed. As did the rest.

“She has to be kidding,” Kylee muttered.

“Having fun yet?” Dek asked, unable to hide his smile. “Grab one of those crates. Let’s carry their crap inside. After that, it’s their business.”

“Can’t believe they don’t recognize you. Even with the changes.” Kylee grabbed one of the heavy trunks. Quetzal-strong, she headed up the stairs.

Dek lifted one of the wardrobes, found its balance point and carried it up the stairs. Maneuvering it through the door, he found his sister and her people clustered in the middle of the living room, staring in horror at the kitchen on the other side of the breakfast bar.

“I’d rather return to the ship,” Falise said. “I wouldn’t put contract workmen in a hovel like this.”

“Shuttle’s gone,” Dek called gaily as he wrestled the wardrobe into the bedroom. “Um, I think I heard that Yvette had blankets put in the chest of drawers. You’ll have to make your own beds. Couch folds out in the living room.”

He paused while Kylee struggled under another of the boxes, then he was out the door.

“Don’t they have grav-lifts?” Ednund asked. “Seriously? Two-wheeled carts?”

“Hey, you’re lucky I got this. Perfect for moving things. Normally, Fred Han Chow uses it to carry corpses up to the cemetery. Kylee and me, we thought it would be just great for moving your luggage.”

Falise, arms crossed defensively, scowled, eyes a glacial green. The muscles in her cheeks were jumping with anger.

“Are the others being treated this way?” Clarice asked Falise. “Or was this done because of that vile woman you encountered on the landing field?”