"There is a thing over that way," Rico said, nodding his head in a particular direction, "that makes a sound like music when you step on the stones around it. But until now, there has been no one here who really knows how to dance a salsa."
There was an inevitable gasp from the occupants of the lift shuttle as the curved door slid open and the crisp, sterile air was filled with the warm scents of the garden. They had been suitably impressed by the strange method of navigation and by Lamont's practiced deftness at using it, but the globe control was obviously technological in nature, however inscrutable its construction. The garden, on the other hand, felt like magic. Lamont stepped out of the shuttle first, and recognized consciously for the first time that there was a prickling, tingling sensation in the skin under his vacuum suit that accompanied a sudden rush of euphoria—the sort of feeling one might get climbing the stoop of one's home after a long and difficult absence. How can anything ever be wrong? His mind seem to ask.
He was followed by one of the crew members, a geologist named Hernandez. Like most of the others who had come over with him, she had been a member of the last mining expedition, and she had been almost completely silent during the trip to the tower. As she stepped out of the lift, the closed and clouded expression that Lamont had come to associate with her soft brown eyes was suddenly replaced with one of wide-eyed wonder. She took a deep breath. "What is that smell?" She whispered. "It's like saffron."
She was followed by Hoffman, who squinted thoughtfully. "I'd peg it for hops."
From around the side of the central column, the imposing form of Rico Estevez suddenly appeared. He was dressed in his uniform slacks and undershirt, which was untucked. His black hair had less pomade applied than usual, so that it fell over his forehead rather than rising in its typical rock-hard pompadour. The security specialist started to say something, and then noticed Hernandez, who was turning in a slow circle to take in the scene. "Sofia!" He exclaimed.
The two exchanged a brief hug before Rico stepped back to regard her at arm's length. Tears had begun to form in her eyes. "How are you doing, señorita?" He asked.
"I've been better, Rico," The geologist admitted.
"There is a thing over that way," Rico said, nodding his head in a particular direction, "that makes a sound like music when you step on the stones around it. But until now, there has been no one here who really knows how to dance a salsa."
The woman's face broke into a grin. "I hope you'll show me," she said.
"That and everything else," Rico promised. "Ah, but first business." He turned to Lamont. "Welcome back, señor. I would have prepared a welcoming committee if I knew you were bringing guests."
"You knew I was coming?" Lamont asked.
"Ji-Ji saw the asteroid pod through the, eh, window," Rico explained. His dark eyes glanced past him at the star-speckled blackness that extended between columns beyond the cylindrical confines of the garden. "She spends much of her time there, you know, looking at the constellations."
Just then, Abner emerged from the lift, having waited until all the crew members ventured out. He was tugging at the larger supply crate, which had been completely forgotten by the newcomers.
"Señor Wade!" Rico greeted him, rushing to help. "It is good that you are back. Señorita Beckett has been asking after you."
"She has?" Abner asked, nearly tripping.