Chapter Twelve
“This is what solitary confinement must be like,” Lana grumbled as she flopped down on her couch.
Staying home alone was how she spent most of her downtime, but that was by choice. It usually came at the end of a ten or twelve-hour day of sanding, priming, and painting. Not to mention lugging paint cans, tarps, and ladders from place to place, or climbing up and down those ladders, as well as stretching, bending, and kneeling. And the worst part of all, crawling on the floor on all fours with a putty knife in one hand and a stinking rag soaked with good old-fashioned turpentine to clean up all the splotches of paint she spilled in the other. She wasn’t the neatest of painters, but she was working on it.
Conversely, being told to go home and rest when she wasn’t dead tired from work, was punishment. The colony had no TV, no interactive gaming services—not that she used them—and she didn’t have access to the unlimited resources of the SatWeb from all points of the globe like she did back on Earth. But what she missed most of all on this mostly male-populated rock in the middle of nowhere were girlfriends. During times like these they’d come over and keep her company, eat junk food, drink margaritas by the pitcher not the glass. But she didn't even have a cat to talk to when the solitude drove her nuts.
Reading one of the dozens of books she had loaded on her digital device didn’t interest her because they were mostly romances and every hero in each storyline reminded her Trask. Listening to music was out since the theme of almost every song was love; either wishing for, falling into, or making love, which only made her miss her gorgeous general more. Then there was the profusion of love-gone-wrong and breakup songs, or the ones about unremitting loneliness, longing, and heartache. In the end, every melody and lyric made her think of Trask, and she ended up bawling like a baby. So basically, her entire music collection was a no go, unless she listened to Christmas songs. Not the popular ones about being home for the holidays with the one you loved—tearjerkers, for sure—rather kid’s classic like “Frosty the Snowman” and “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” which invariably got stuck in her head and were enough to drive her batty.
With a frustrated groan, she got up and began to pace. At least it was something to do.
A knock on the door a while later kept her from wearing a grove in her floor. Glad for the reprieve from the monotonous silence, she dashed to open it, hungry for conversation, though it was most likely someone knocking on the wrong apartment in her 400-unit complex.
Beck stood on the other side, holding a fistful of grocery bags in one hand and one of those wax paper bakery bags in the other from which emanated the mouthwatering aroma of yeast and cinnamon.
“Don’t tell me I missed the grand opening!” she cried.
His mouth curved into a smile as he raised a green-and-white striped bag adorned with a coffee and donuts logo to his face and inhaled. “Okay. I won't tell you. I'll just say cinnamon rolls...baked fresh today.”
“With the cream-cheese icing?”
His grin grew so broad, twin dimples indented his cheeks. The sight was always like a punch to the gut. Trask had a dimple, discovered only when he shaved his beard. She tamped down her longing planning to sublimate it with ooey-gooey bakery goodness, especially when he said, “Is there any other kind?”
“Give it over!” she squealed and rudely snatched the bag from his fingers.
Without another word, not inviting him in, offering to help him haul in the rest of what he’d brought, or giving him the feeblest thank you, she left him standing in the open doorway and moved to the kitchen as though she’d been shipwrecked on a deserted island without sustenance for months. She unfolded the top as she walked and stuck her nose in the bag. “Oh my God,” she moaned after she inhaled the wonderful bakery goodness. “I forgot how delicious these smell.”
It seemed like forever that she and Beck, and the other residents of the fledgling capital had anticipated the arrival of the bakery. They had a clinic, a pub, a market, and other small shops, but a bakery opening was a huge step towards actual civilization—or so it seemed to them in their isolated little corner of the universe. They didn’t have fast food or dozens of restaurants to choose from, only the sandwich shop located inside the market, and Melvin’s which was the original mess hall comprised of not much more than a tent and picnic-style tables when she first arrived.
At either place, they were lucky to get a hard cookie or a slice of dry cake without nearly enough frosting, so a real bakery was much anticipated. It had been the main topic of conversation for months. But last week, when a sign in the window promised freshly baked cinnamon rolls—and not your ordinary, mundane, run-of-the-mill kind of cinnamon roll, but the kind that had withstood centuries of competitors and still stood top of the heap—Cinnabon. Their excitement, along with everyone else in town who could talk of nothing else, had spiked to a near-frenzied anticipation.
There was a slam, which she figured was Beck pausing long enough to kick her door shut with his boot. His thudding footsteps followed her as he slogged eight bags bulging with other stuff she hadn’t taken the time to offer to help with. But Lana didn’t care if she was rude. He’d only had to wait a few months for this moment. For her, it had been since before the Odyssey disembarked on its original mission four long years ago!
“And you didn’t get Cinnabon while you were home this last time because…?”
“I could have it any old time I wanted, so I didn’t want it every single day. That’s why.”
He looked at her like she was off her nut and smiled while shaking his head. “If you get plates and forks,” he suggested, “we can give days of yammering over how good they smell a rest, and actually experience how they taste.”
Lana had a different plan.
By the time he hefted the bags onto her countertop, she’d already pulled out one of the half dozen rolls and taken a huge bite. Who needs utensils when you have fingers? When the sweetness hit her tongue, her head fell back, her body quivered in delight, and she moaned with unrestrained bliss.
“Beckett Kincaid,” she mumbled around another huge bite. “I love you for this. Will you marry me?”
He chuckled, arctic-blue eyes flashing with delight. “Sorry, babe. You’re beautiful, but I like lots of tits and ass on a woman. Maybe if you eat two of those every day for a year and regain what you’ve lost, I’ll reconsider.”
“Deal!” she exclaimed, though it came out mumbled around the rest of the roll she’d shoved in her mouth while she got out plates, forks, napkins, and two large mugs for coffee.
A few moments later, they were seated at her standard issue kitchen table, like the rest of her cookie-cutter apartment furniture, with Lana tucking into her second roll while Beck forked up a bite of his first.
Giving a good impersonation of her reaction, he groaned, “Fuck me!” as he, too, closed his eyes and chewed.
With the initial euphoria behind her, Lana was able to watch the man across from her. Funny, kind, almost on par with Trask in the looks category—though she preferred dark hair and aqua eyes. What could she say? He had bulging muscles by the yard—which proved he was hands-on at work—and though his bossiness bordered on domineering at times, Beck was as near perfect as a guy could get. If she hadn’t sworn off men for, like, um, well…forever, she would have jumped his bones right here in her kitchen.
“What happened that things ended between you and your wife?” she blurted out.
He stopped mid-chew, his eyes opened and homed in on her, then he swallowed, audibly. Reaching for a napkin, he wiped the glistening cream cheese yumminess from his lips and took a sip of coffee before he answered. “Wow. Talk about random. Give a guy a warning next time you blindside him with a bad case of whiplash.”
“Sorry. But, I mean, you’re such a good guy it couldn't have been you. And if she was the one who left, I gotta ask”—she waved her half-eaten pastry at his face and equally impressive physique—“was she blind?”
He studied her over the rim of his steaming mug. “I’ve wondered the same about you and your general. Give and take?”
She thought about it a moment and shrugged. “Sure. But you go first since I asked first.”
“She cheated on me.”
“Oh, my God, she really was blind and an idiot, obviously.”
His lips twitched. “Nothing wrong with her eyes, babe. As for the other, she had a degree from a college which didn't accept just anyone. But she had a need for attention, something I couldn’t give her enough of while building cities and earning a living to keep her in designer clothes, jewelry, high-dollar makeup, personal trainers, and—”
Lana held up her hand. “Okay, I get it. Forgive my critiquing your taste in women, Beck, but she sounds like a selfish bitch.”
“Pegged her in one, good job, Hartman. Except I’d add greedy.”
“Then why did you marry her?”
“I mentioned I liked tits and ass, didn’t I?”
She stared at him, horrified. “Men. I’ll never understand you. Hate to break it to you, honey, but you fuck a cup size, you marry a woman with substance. And the way you look, you really don’t need to put a ring on it to get T&A.”
“That was only half of it. Yeah, she was gorgeous, but she also made me laugh. We had fun together, and she told me all the things I wanted to hear about home, family, and happily ever after. I was head over heels thinking I’d found my perfect woman.”
“What happened?”
“We said ‘I do.’”
He withdrew another roll from the bag. When he began scarfing it down and didn’t look like he had any intention of continuing, Lana prompted, “Marriage vows morphed her into a selfish, greedy bitch?”
“Nope, she was one all along, but she didn’t reveal she was while we were dating. Turns out she’d run through the trust fund her grandfather left her, and her daddy wasn’t prepared to keep her in the lifestyle she was accustomed to. Seems he wanted her to work for it, of all things.”
Lana, who had worked full-time since before she graduated high school, snorted in disgust.
“Yeah, that's about how Adrianna felt about gainful employment. She had to get another sucker on the hook fast.” He took a sip of coffee, before continuing. “Enter me. My job requires a lot of travel. Once the infrastructure is designed and put in, I move on to another project in another city. She was down with that before the wedding. Said she wanted to see the world with me. But once she had my rings on her finger, she decided staying home was more appealing. Trouble is she didn’t stay home alone. Her mistake is she didn’t know me as well as she should have and hit on a buddy of mine from college, who naturally picked up the phone and called me.”
“Oh, Beck. I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah, thankfully my dick being hard all the time didn’t siphon all the blood from my brain and prevent me from getting a prenup.”
“It had a fidelity clause, I gather.”
“You got it.”
“So, a manipulative, selfish, greedy bitch, and ballsy enough not to think she’d get caught, which cheaters always do.”
“Yep, can I pick ’em or what?” Having polished off three of the sticky confections, he grabbed a fresh napkin, wiped the excess icing from his fingers, and leaned back, his large frame making her kitchen chair squeak as he settled in. With coffee in hand, he raised an index finger and pointed her way. “Now you go. Start with the capture.”
“You know about me?”
“Everyone here and at home knows about the Odyssey, and its all-female crew, on the first-ever deep-space exploration mission. But they know the original eight captured by name.”
“More like the infamous eight. Since we were also the first all-female deep-space crew to be captured, were we really all that awesome? I think not.”
“Darlin', seriously? You saved us.”
She snorted doubtfully. “A case of the end justifying the means. Oh, and let's not forget our compatible DNA and magic ovaries.”
“No,” he shot back. “It’s a case of grit and determination. You are heroes, Lana.”
“Yeah, I guess some of us and our ovaries got it going on.” When he gave her a curious look, she moved on quickly. “It's a good thing they didn't send all men.”
“Damn straight, or we'd still be up the proverbial creek. I can't imagine a seven-foot alien chasing me through a forest to offer me a deal too good to be believed, can you?”
The visual of Beckett Kincaid being tossed over a shoulder and carried off by a loincloth-wearing barbarian made her grin.
“That would have stirred folks up at home, I imagine.”
“Joking aside, darlin’, some at home are pissed. They think the integration program and treaty that make it possible are wrong, no matter the result.”
It was a sobering thought. While on Earth for the few months before returning to the colony, she'd seen the protests. The language used against the women who decided to stay was ugly, and so were the signs. Some of the demonstrations had grown violent and among the hate-groups it was escalating.
Yeah, to say some at home were stirred up was putting it mildly. The escalating violence was part of the reason she’d decided to leave Earth—but not all of it.
“Hatemongering racists and bigots,” she muttered. “The women in the program are there because they want to be. No one twisted their arms. I know because I spoke to many of them, answered hundreds of questions, and made sure they knew what they were getting into before they signed up. It's really no different than any of the marriages of convenience that have taken place throughout history except one of the parties happens to be an alien.”
“I didn’t mean to get you riled, darlin’.”
“But I despise narrow-mindedness, Beck. Our people marry for purely mercenary reasons all the time, to form political alliances or attain financial security, which often leads to two miserable and uncommitted partners. The Primarians main reason is population growth, this is true, but at least they match mates with only the highest compatibility.”
He set his cup down and folded his forearms on the table and leaned in. “Sounds as mercenary as marrying for political reasons, or for money, and though their lauded scientific method has a perfect success rate, that’s not always the case, is it?”
The glint in his eyes combined with the firm set of his lips told her she was the “not always” he was referring to. A topic change was in order. “More coffee?”
“No.” He caught her hand keeping her from getting up and avoiding the question. When did he come to know her so well? “Now it’s your turn to give.”
“There isn’t much to tell. I was captured, but when given the chance to opt-out, I took it. Simple as that.”
“If it was simple, you wouldn’t be going through the motions of life.”
“I’m not,” she protested, looking down at her hands rather than into the ice blue eyes that saw entirely too much. “I have a role, albeit a small one, in building a whole new life for our people.”
“As a painter, not what you are trained to do. And I wouldn't call what you are building for yourself a life. Or haven’t you heard the old adage about all work and no play?”
“You’re saying I’m dull?”
“I’m saying you left a lot of give out of our give-and-take deal.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I just don't want to get into it.”
“Then you shouldn't have taken the deal. Talk, Hartman.”
“Has anyone ever told you you're stubborn?”
“You have. On several occasions, another reason you shouldn't have agreed to our bargain.”
She scowled at him, to which he merely raised both brows, waiting.
“Their world was a weird mix of the future and being thrown back in time—to the Victorian Era, to be precise. It didn’t do it for me, all right?”
“You didn’t fall head over heels in love with your Primarian mate like all the others did?”
“I wasn’t the only one. Eryn and Ram were at each other’s throats.”
“I heard the story about the Security Chief and her Master Warrior mate. It seems his jet-black hair now has red streaks the same shade as hers, so he's doing some transforming of his own these days. It’s the first time a warrior has visibly changed. They’re calling it a love story for the ages. And they have a baby he dotes on—the only daughter born to a Primarian in over two decades.”
“You know an awful lot. Where did you learn this? A tabloid news site on the SatWeb, or an unauthorized biography?”
“Did I get something wrong?”
She glared at him for two reasons. First, his facts were all correct, and second, he was getting too close to the truth for comfort.
“I know these things because I know Ram and Eryn. They lived here until a few months ago. Every time I saw them, with or without their baby girl, they were all over each other. Touching, smiling, whispering privately. She looked pretty darn happy to be so miserable. And never, not once, did I see them at each other’s throats.”
“Whatever…”
“Not whatever.”
“Why are you pushing so hard? What does it matter?”
“Because I have a sister. Her husband was in the military. They were like your friend and her Warrior, totally in love with each other. About five years ago while deployed, he was killed in combat. She was devastated, didn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, lost weight, and other than what she had to do to get through the day, she withdrew from life. My sister faded before my eyes her grief was so profound. Sound like someone you know?”
She looked away from the intensity of his gaze and his question. “Trask isn’t dead,” she replied in a flat tone. “He’s alive and well and here on Terra Nova somewhere, so I hear.’’
“Yep, I heard the medic warn you away from the big badass general. I’ve see him. Tops me by about half a foot, outweighs me, too.” He eyed her critically for an instant. “What are you, one twenty soaking wet? I see the need for her to protect the puny leader of the entire Primarian Army from a scary giant like you.”
She didn’t like this conversation anymore, and the sweet rolls were sitting like bricks in her stomach. Her gaze snapped back to his. “Do you have a point to this?”
“His sister said he was just coming back to himself. You haven’t come close to getting there. You loved him. And he felt the same about you, didn’t he?”
A wave of tears threatened. She had to get rid of him before they overflowed. Her chair scraped loudly against the floor when she stood and began to clean up. She took their trash and balled it up, then grabbed her still half-full cup and took it to the sink. Tenacious as ever, Beck didn't take the hint.
“From what I know, these are hardcore, take-no-shit kind of men. They’d lay down their lives for their females, who are precious to them. Yes, I’ve heard tales about the spankings and such. They make the Primarians out to be savages and accuse the women who wanted to stay of suffering from Stockholm Syndrome. But we’ve had thousands of women transition through the EPIC program this first year. Their tickets have all been punched as one way, Lana. Why is that?”
Her back to him, she shoved her mug into the countertop dish sanitizer and pressed the power button. As it hummed she muttered, “I’m sure I don’t know.”
“Because these women went into this with their eyes open, which, granted, wasn’t afforded to you. But they seem to be happy as clams living the Primarian way.”
The unit beeped, and she removed her mug, hanging it on its hook under the cabinet. With nothing left to do, she looked out the window on the drab, dreary day. It had started to rain, again, which meant more mud in the streets. She sighed, suddenly very weary.
“How would you know how happy these women are when you're stuck out here forging the new frontier?”
“I spoke to several of them when I visited Rebecca.”
“Who?”
“My sister.”
Shocked, she whirled to face him. “Your sister is a mate?”
“She was tired of the constant wars and the struggle for a normal life on Earth. She had to move from California, which is practically uninhabitable now from the constant quakes, mudslides, and flooding. And after years of being lonely and depressed, Becca decided an adventure was the way to go. I was shocked at first and didn’t approve. But she’s an adult and doesn’t always listen to her older brother. And I was heading out on my own adventure, leaving her to her grief and a crumbling planet, so who was I to say no?”
“She’s happy?”
“Yep. And pregnant. I’m going to be a first-time uncle in a few short weeks.”
“That’s wonderful news.” Although the dullness in her voice didn't sound like she thought it was wonderful. She turned back to the window. “I’m glad it worked out for her.”
“Hers is one of many success stories and one-way tickets, Lana. What didn’t work out between you and the general?”
“It just wasn’t what I wanted, Beck.”
“So, you said. He must have been a real asshole. A hard-core military man who takes no lip from the little woman, and we know you can give some lip. I assume he wanted only one thing from you, to keep you barefoot and pregnant. Oh, and he bent you over his knee and whaled on your ass every time you looked at him funny. Have I got it right?”
“No, it wasn’t like that.” She looked down at where her hands gripped the sink, nailbeds white from the intensity. “Trask was always very kind, even in the beginning when I wasn’t very cooperative.”
“Captured and scared out of your mind, why would you be? That must have been it; you couldn’t forgive the mistreatment.”
“He didn’t mistreat me. I told you, he was kind—”
“But he spanked you. I’m assuming that’s what happened when you weren’t cooperative. These guys are dominant and intolerant of sass and back talk. I imagine meek and mild isn’t something you excel at.”
She twisted to glare at him. “You don’t know how hard it is until you’ve had your choices taken away.”
He raised his hands, palms out in surrender. “Hey, I was sympathizing with you.”
“You’re full of it.”
“Why don’t you tell me what it was then, honey? Because Lord knows it must have sucked compared to the life you’ve got now. Alone, working as many as eighty hours per week, slinging paint, no friends to speak of except your boss—”
“Are we done here?”
He leaned in. “From what the medic said, he was devastated when you left, darlin’. And you don’t look much better one year out. Something went wrong, and it wasn’t wearing flowing dresses instead of pants or being treated like a pampered pet, which is how my sister describes her life with her warrior. And it wasn’t homesickness for Earth or a burning desire to work in your chosen field.” He spread his arms and looked around. “Because look where you are now.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Why not, if it’s over?”
She charged forward and slapped the table. “Because it isn’t over. It’ll never be over. I loved him more than I thought possible, but I couldn’t stay with him. And every day I go on without him hurts to the bone. Is that what you want to hear, Beck? I’m miserable and going through the motions of my fucked-up life because that’s how it must be. Now, are we done?”
He rose half out of his chair, placed his hands flat on the tabletop, and leaned toward her. “Darlin’, we are so far from done, it ain’t funny.”
“Well, I am.” She whirled to stalk off but bumped into her chair, smacking her shin. Hurting, now, both her leg and her heart, as well as being ticked the hell off, she shoved it so hard it skidded across the floor and into the wall. Rounding on him, she stormed back and poked a finger against his chest. “If this is the price of cinnamon roll home delivery and an after-work beer once a week, you can keep it, Beckett Kincaid.” She pointed to the door. “You can also leave. I don’t need this kind of friendship. We can go back to the boss/employee relationship we had when I arrived.”
He rose the rest of the way, standing a foot taller than her, and, if the tic in his jaw told the tale, twice as angry. “You’re upset, and since you’ve been ill, I’ll assume you didn’t actually mean the bullshit you just spewed. If you do, you’ve got a fucked-up idea of what friendship is. A friend sticks by you through thick and thin. He also goes to bat for you when your head is so far up your ass you can’t see straight. It’s not about a beer and shooting pool after work; that’s a bar buddy. Those are a dime a dozen. A true friend is rare, and whether you look at me and see that, or kick my ass to the curb because what I say gets uncomfortable, it’s what you’ve got in me, Lana Hartman.” He waved his hand at the bakery bag. “Eat the rest of those because a true friend is also going to tell you when you look like hell and need to gain ten pounds.” He stalked to the door, not sticking around for a response. “As both your boss and a friend, like it or not, I’ll be by tomorrow to check on you.”
The slam of the traditional wooden door reverberated through her apartment upon his exit. She stared at it with regret for several long minutes. Other than Eryn, who would have told her off probably more bluntly than Beck had done, he was indeed the best friend she’d ever had, and she’d just thrown it back in his face.
She flopped down in her chair and asked her sad, empty, lonely apartment, which reflected what her pathetic life had become, “When did I become such a bitch?”
***
Despite their argument and Lana’s stupidity, Beck came by to check on her the next day. This time he didn’t come bearing pastry, but a loaf of fresh-baked yeasty bread. Her mouth watered when he walked in with it as she held the door.
She followed him into the kitchen and went straight for a knife to slice it. “Honey butter would be awesome if it tastes as good as it smells. Too bad I don’t have any.”
“Dipping it in a nice hearty soup would be good, too.”
“Yeah, I don’t have that, either.”
“You will in about thirty minutes.”
“I will?” Her gaze drifted to the tall cabinet in the corner where she’d seen him store some canned goods the day before. She hadn’t bothered to check out what he’d brought her. In fact, she hadn’t bothered to eat after he’d gotten ticked and stormed out. But she didn’t dare tell him, not after the ten pounds underweight comment he’d made before he slammed the door. “Did you buy soup yesterday?”
He snorted. “No, but I bought rehydrated ground beef, fresh veggies from a recent shipment from the Ariad street market. I hope you don't mind rainbow-colored carrots, onions, and potatoes, or at least the Primarian versions of them, with your tomato juice, which is the only ingredient from home.”
“I had tomato juice? Wish I'd know, I could have used a stiff and spicy Bloody Mary last night.”
His pale-blue eyes pierced her before they cut to the bakery bag with its lone leftover cinnamon roll, also untouched in the 24 hours since he'd seen it last. He extended his open hand to her, saying in a slow drawl when she merely stared at it, “I’ll need the knife for chopping, darlin’.”
“Oh. Right. Sorry,” she muttered as she laid the knife—her only sharp one—handle first in his palm.
Once he’d taken it from her, he shook his head as if at a loss over what to do with her. “Obviously, you didn't open the cupboard and check out the groceries I stocked, which means you haven’t had anything to eat since I left here. While I fix you something, sit down before you collapse from hunger.”
“Does this mean you forgive me for being a complete whack job and an ungrateful bitch?”
His lips twitched which she took as a good sign, along with the fact he'd come back at all.
“Like I said, I chose to overlook all the nonsense you were spewing.”
“You were a bit more colorful with your wording, yesterday. As was I.” She took a hesitant step forward dropping all attempts at humor and teasing when she told him as sincerely as she knew how, “I’m sorry, Beck.”
He snagged her behind the neck with his hand and pulled her into a warm, wonderfully tight hug. “Nothing to be sorry for, darlin',” he murmured against the top of her head. “I understand.”
They stayed like that for several long moments with Lana afraid to move and spoil it. Though it brought about bittersweet memories of Trask, it felt good to be held in the arms of a man who cared about her. He squeezed her briefly, then let her go.
“Okay, now that we've hugged and made up, you sit and keep me company while I cook. And by that, I mean explaining why you’re working for me as a painter instead of in the field you trained in.”
She rolled her eyes. “Boy, are you stubborn
“As the day is long, so there's no sense arguing. Sit,” he repeated.
When Lana did, he set a glass of milk in front of her—the synthetic kind—no cows yet on the Terra Nova frontier, but the fake stuff wasn't half bad—along with a small plate which held a thick slice of bread slathered in butter. “Talk with your mouth full; I don’t care. Just eat.”
She took a bite and chewed as she watched him move around her kitchen. The sizzle of meat browning in a hot pan coincided with the buzz of her electric can opener, and the high-pitched whir of her chopper. She'd consumed every buttery crumb and drank every drop by the time he pulled out a chair across from her and sat down.
“Penny for your thoughts.”
Vaguely, she looked at him.
“That heavy, eh? Maybe they rate a whole dollar.”
“What’s that?” she asked in confusion.
“Your thoughts, Hartman. Stick with me here, darlin’,” he said, with a hint of a chuckle.
“Sorry, I’ve been distracted lately.”
“Want to tell me about it?”
She sighed. “It’s a long story.”
“Got nothing but time. Spill.”
Beck leaned back, his boots making two solid thuds as his heels hit the floor when he stretched out his long legs and crossed them at the ankles. They had a few patches of dried mud on the heels like everyone who walked the streets hereabouts did. Lana blinked at how big they were—size 14’s, at least—and proportionate to his tall frame. Except for his size and demeanor, he didn’t look like her general, quite the opposite with his sandy, short-cropped hair, and light-blue eyes. Still, he reminded her so much of him, she had to wonder if she was a bit of a masochist for being friends with him.
His arctic gaze seared into her as he leaned in. “You gotta unload on someone before you combust.”
He was right; she’d been bottling things up for so long, she’d become like one of the volcanoes she studied. A hard shell on top waiting for a crack to let all the molten, churning emotion inside to spew out.
So rather than erupt on Beck, like she’d done the day before, she unloaded.
Starting with her return to Earth, she began telling her story, how she’d left the USIF and taken a crappy geology job she hated. About how it had lasted a month before Eryn conned her into going to work for EPIC, helping process the women signing up in droves to become Primarian mates.
She’d told him about rooming with Eryn and watching her deny her pregnancy for months. And about how the roof practically blew off their apartment when Ram arrived to confront the mother of his child, but he was too late.
Eryn had already fled to the woods behind where they lived to buy some time and prepare for the inevitable confrontation with her warrior. She had the misfortune of bad timing and was accosted by a group of male protestors—xenophobic zealots was probably a better term.
By this point, Beck was cursing violently about how ignorant some men could be. When she told him how the assault had landed Eryn in a coma for weeks, and she’d almost died, as well as her child—the first human-Primarian female child ever conceived—he’d launched into a string of expletives about narrow-minded rednecks.
“Long story short, Eryn survived, and precious Cierra was born. And when Ram brought them both back to Terra Nova, I tagged along.”
“Why not Primaria?” Beck asked.
“She was wanted for questioning, and if guilty would have had to endure a civil punishment.”
“What does that consist of, a fine? Big deal.”
“Wrong. It’s a huge deal. Civil punishments are decided by a council of elders and the Princep, and for what she was accused of would have been meted out while strapped to a pole, or a cross, that part I’m not sure of.”
He fell silent, staring at her with a shocked expression, eyes big and round, and nearly the size of his open mouth. “What could she have possibly done to earn such a harsh punishment?”
“That’s another long story.” So was being kidnapped by frogmen, something that happened later, but she didn’t want to get into any of that today.
“What about before all of that? You don’t talk about the capture. I can’t imagine how frightening it must have been.”
She nodded, the day she’d met Trask as vivid in her recollection as though it were yesterday. So much had changed for the others. Eva was Prima now, and she and Kerr had a son. Eryn and Ram had straightened out their string of crises and were living on Primaria with their precious baby girl, the first female child born to a Primarian in almost two decades. She was a miracle, after all, Eryn had endured, and so precious.
Noise out on the street drew their attention. She got up and walked to the window, sparing her the retelling of the most painful parts. Across the way, a group of dignitaries, about twenty of them—warriors, men in white robes, a few men in jeans, and a woman wearing a white lab coat, an above-the-knee skirt, and heels of all things in this mud-riddled city. They were standing beside a row of four, large, solar ground vehicles.
Beck moved in behind her and looked over her shoulder.
“Is something important happening?”
“Mm-hmm. The geological survey was scheduled for today.”
She stiffened. “What survey?”
“A few more scientists arrived from Earth, including the new research director. They are going to tour the uladite mine and facilities.”
Something about the woman seemed familiar. Tall, brassy red hair bordering on orange— A shiver of vivid recollection passed through her, and she whispered in horror, “No, it can’t be. Fate couldn’t be that cruel.”
When the redhead twisted to say something to one of the men behind her and she saw her face, Lana knew it could. And she shouldn’t be surprised; fate had been dicking around with her since the day she was born.
“Fucking Betsy Barker,” she muttered in a nasty tone. The name alone left a bitter taste on her tongue.
“Not a friend evidently,” Beck surmised.
“You could say that. I applied for a spot on the research team before I left Earth and was turned down flat. Now I know why—Betsy. I wonder if anyone back on Earth knows they’ve entrusted this project to someone who finished one up from dead last in our class at Penn State.”
“Evidently not.”
“Yeah. While I was traveling the galaxies trying to save our asses, she was kissing up to senators. And back in school, when I was working my butt off to keep my perfect GPA, she was sleeping with more than one of the professors to pass. She got caught when someone tipped off the dean.”
“Yet she’s here, in a lab coat, so she obviously finished.”
“She always has a way of coming out on top. They didn’t do anything to her, only fired the teacher. I heard her rich daddy gave the university an endowment.” Lana shrugged. “It didn’t affect me. I didn’t care who she got her jollies with and tried to avoid drama, and her. But Betsy somehow got the notion it was me who told administration, like I cared.”
“So bad blood cost you a job and is why you’re painting for me. But why come at all?”
“Eryn was coming to the colony to live, or so I thought. Her plans changed, but I stayed rather than go home. There was nothing left for me on Earth, anyway. My friends and teammates are here. Well, mostly on Primaria, but I have a chance of seeing them at least.”
“And your general is here.”
“Don’t start again, Beck. I’m not up to it.”
He didn’t answer for a moment. “I need to get back. We should eat.”
“Yeah.”
His hamburger soup was simple but tasty, and she ate a whole bowl and another slice of buttered bread. After he left, she stored the leftovers and cleaned up the bit of mess he made. It still amazed her his ex-wife was such a boneheaded bimbo and pissed away her chance at a lifetime with one of the best men Lana had ever known.
Once she was done with those chores, the rest of the afternoon and evening yawned in front of her. She couldn’t bear it. With food in her belly and a burst of nervous energy, she decided to take a walk. Her path took her toward the end of town where she caught sight of the line of solar vehicles heading out on the road to the mine.
That Elizabeth Barker was heading up the team galled her to no end. And it worried her. The mine would make Terra Nova energy independent for the next millennium and beyond. The people of Earth were depending on it. If second-to-last Betsy screwed it up, they would all suffer for her incompetence.
She looked over at the BRK storage site. Several vehicles sat in the lot unused. She had access…
Without giving it a moment’s thought, she was across the street. She’d just peek around the site. No harm in that, right? And she wasn’t stealing one of Beck’s vehicles, only borrowing it. She’d have it back with no one the wiser before the sun went down. Ignoring the voice in her head that warned her to mind her own business and stay out of trouble, she opened the door to the hovercraft and slid behind the controls. In a blink, she was winding down the road toward the mine.
***
Lana couldn’t know she was being watched. Or that the man doing so wore a wide grin on his bearded face.
“Just the opportunity I needed,” he murmured as he watched her round the bend in the distance and vanish from sight. “The mine will be the perfect place.” His smile faded, his chest growing tight as his body shook with fury. This happened every time he thought about their precious resource being shared with this retched sub-species. Max Kerr had taken it upon himself to make it so without the council's permission. He would have voted unequivocally, no, and would have made sure the other elders who owed him did as well.
But he’d take care of the sorry excuse for a Princep later. First things first. He had many tasks to accomplish before putting his plan into motion. “Then, thanks to the blonde-haired bitch, I’ll be killing two birds with one stone.” As he started back to town, he chuckled. “Clever saying for such a stupid sub-species, but there’s only one bird I’m determined to see the last of, once and for all.”