Page 16 of Star Claimed Omega
Stepping off at Deck 27, her map led her away from the lake shower rooms and towards a series of stately executive cabins by the water.
Nothing like the tiny sleep cubicles she was familiar with.
Soleil sighed as she walked along, with her hover-cleaning kit gliding behind her like a devoted shadow.
The faux sun above spilled amber light through the tall-leafed canopy, casting golden patterns over the gravel path.
The serenity almost made her forget she and all the residents of this ship were freakin’ tearing through deep space.
She glanced at her commtab and map, confirming her assignment to Cabin 2.
Soleil exhaled, smoothing her uniform as she reached the private walkway flanked with flowering vines and privacy hedges.
Beyond it sat a sleek home, with an expansive terrace built with wood-grain tiles and smoked-glass railings, encircling the dwelling.
As she approached, her device pinged with cleaning instructions and a six-digit security code, which she keyed into a pad by the floor-to-ceiling carved oak door.
The lock clicked open, and the soft hiss of climate controls welcomed her inside.
The interior was modern and starkly minimalist, yet it held subtle clues to its male occupier.
It had two entrances, one facing the lake, the other the path back to the elevators.
A pair of heavy-soled boots, coated with sand, rested near the door.
Dress shoes adorned a rack, a cigar case sat on a side stand, and a book on woodworking and carving rested on a shelf.
A faint male cologne, tinged with sandalwood, permeated the air; she lifted her nose and inhaled the evocative, lush scent.
Her hover kit hissed behind her as she glanced from the lounge and into the primary bedroom.
Casual shirts and workout gear lay folded on a chair close to the bed.
The space was a blend of dark timber and burnished steel, soft leathers, and worn textures juxtaposed with polished forms.
The shelves were sturdy, made of wood, and lined with books, some well-thumbed, others pristine.
Their themes range from political theory to military history and classic poetry.
Vinyl records, a guitar, and music books rested beneath a sleek sound system, concealed behind a heavy-stitched curtain.
The artwork was abstract, featuring bold lines, violent yellows, and gilded accents.
These were not generic pieces selected from a catalog; they resembled those chosen from an expensive gallery wall.
Or so she hypothesized, given her limited experience with a refined lifestyle.
Soleil had never been privy to such elegance; she had only overheard her mother speak of it, her voice wistful as she recounted her former life, now lost forever.
Soleil forced herself to focus on the present task.
The open-plan lounge flowed seamlessly into a generous marble kitchen, a space she admired.
The sink held two glasses.
A half-finished espresso cup sat on the counter.
The space appeared lived-in, personal, and almost intimate.
