The Retreat (The After Trilogy Book 1) (19 page)

“I don’t think she’d care,” Romy muttered.

Nancy sniggered. “Probably not. I’ve seen her look at scorpions with more fondness. All right, you’ve got the target. Pretend it’s a poacher, or something.”

Romy chose the “or something” as she peered through the front sight of the much longer weapon. The gun was heavy. If she held it too long, her arms would begin to tremble. She inhaled slowly, thinking of the Orbito soldiers hundreds of kilometres above her, fighting for a useless cause. Fighting because of greed and politics.

In other words, fighting for the exact same reasons global warming had occurred in the first place.

Whatever happened to her knot, Romy knew she’d never blindly follow anyone ever again.

She squeezed the trigger. And the target exploded down the way.

Silence greeted her ears as she replaced the safety and pointed the rifle to the ground, absently rubbing her shoulder.

Nancy had her mouth open. “Holy shite. You just blew up the target. On your first try.”

Romy shrugged a shoulder up and rubbed the back of her neck. “Well, I’d already practised for a while with the other gun.”

Nancy grabbed the rifle. “You did not just seriously compare a Glock to an AK-103?”

Romy flexed her fingers, studying the target. “I think I prefer the big one.”

“A woman after my own heart.” Nancy sighed dramatically. “But hands off. This one is mine.”

* * *

T
he eight teens and Romy crammed back into the car for the return journey. Romy’s stomach twisted nervously as she tried to memorise the path they took. She’d avoided the soldier for one day, but what was to prevent him from coming back at any time? And what if her absence had been noticed? Romy couldn’t help but feel Atlas might have something to say about her disappearing with a bunch of teenagers—even if it was the most fun she’d had on Earth yet.

Romy hadn’t really considered the consequences before going.

“C-can you tell us about the Critamal?” Eddie asked shyly.

The low muttering of the young group halted at his question. None of them could move, but Romy had a feeling that if the others could, they’d be turning to stare.

“Sure,” Romy said. “What do you want to know?”

Eddie’s eyes went wide in excitement. She could see his expression in the cracked mirror in the middle of the windscreen.

“It must be amazing, living up there.
In space
,” he sighed, stutter disappearing.

Wriggling in place, she tried to mask her amusement. “I guess,” she replied. “It’s all I’ve ever known, just like your homes here, I imagine. It’s the same with the Critamal. They’ve always been a part of my life—I don’t really find the Critamal all that interesting, to be honest. Though battle against them can be an exhilarating change to daily life, and the way their brains stay intact after their body explodes gives me shivers. They’re just something to kill. Something to survive. Something not to get caught by. They want Earth, and we want to stop them. If global warming had destroyed Earth, it could have just as easily been us trying to take their home.”

Nancy hummed. “I never thought of the poachers that way.”

A muffled response came from the opposite seat. “That’s so badass.”

Romy flushed. She didn’t want it to sound like she was bragging. “To my knot, being on the orbitos, it’s the same as . . . feeding the chickens. You get used to it, and it’s just a job you do because you have to.” Romy wasn’t entirely successful at keeping the bitterness from her voice.

“The grass is always greener?” Eddie asked.

“I don’t know.” Romy frowned. “Is it?”

The car rocked with the sound of laughter from the eight teens while Romy went bright red.

Nancy snorted into Romy’s side. “It means, you always think something far away is more exciting than your life.”

Romy wondered if she’d find feeding the chickens more exciting.
Probably,
she thought.

“Yes, I suppose that’s true.”

Nancy was shaking her head. “That’s messed up.”

The same muffled voice came from the other side. She assumed it was the boy, Fred. “I say we make her tell us about the aliens and guns! It’s the least she can do after we broke her out today.”

This was how, when his suggestion was met with wild agreement, that Romy found herself talking about space soldier life—in what she hoped was a voice void of sourness—for the entire drive back.

* * *

“I
was pretty hungry after the person meant to bring breakfast skipped out on us.” Phobos glared at Romy over Elara’s head as she walked into the bungalow.

She covered her mouth with both hands.

Romy looked over the three of them. Phobos was angry, Elara suspicious, and Thrym—well, he seemed a little peeved as well. “I’m so sorry. I completely forgot!”

“Forgot? How, Rosemary?” Thrym stood up in an angry movement. “I went by the storage room
five times
today. You weren’t there at all. I was beginning to think the Mandate had captured you!”

He was using her full name. Definitely annoyed.

Earth wasn’t like space, where if you couldn’t find someone, you knew they’d only be minutes away, available at the touch of a button. If the others disappeared on Earth, they could be anywhere in the world, never to be found. If Romy couldn’t find one of the others, she would be upset, too.

She sat down on her bunk. “I’m sorry. I went off target shooting with some humans today. I didn’t even think to let you guys know where I was going.” Her relief at escaping the soldier, Lucas, for the day had taken first priority.

Thrym regained his seat, still tense. Phobos came to sit next to her.

“Next time, let us know, okay?” Phobos said, pulling her in for a hug.

“I will,” Romy sniffed. She hated when they were mad at her. “Were you hungry all day?”

Phobos leant in to whisper loudly, “Thrym won’t want you to know that we left twenty minutes after you did to get our own food.”

Romy smiled, and they fell into an awkward silence.

Elara was looking around the group, a bewildered look upon her face. “How about the bit about the target shooting? You guys don’t want to know about that?”

Romy gave a quick recount of her day with the Earth teens. Phobos was up and pacing the room as she finished. Thrym sat, arms folded, one finger tapping on his elbow. A small smile graced his face.

“Of course you hit the target.” Thrym winked.

She exhaled in relief. He’d forgiven her.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re proud of her,” Phobos interrupted. He sat backwards on his chair. “I’m more interested in the fact that Romy knows the location of a car full of weapons.”

Romy shook her head. “Nancy has a hiding spot for the guns at the clearing. I don’t think anyone else knows where it is.”

“But you know where the car is.”

She grew still at his statement.

Elara squealed and danced on the spot. Phobos watched his knot mate’s willowy movements in consternation.

Romy folded her arms, lost in deep thought. The group had always planned to steal a car, courtesy of Elara, and ditch it somewhere along the road. It would be easier for a recovering Deimos and would get them a reasonable head start on Tina’s force if they could get their hands on the unknown car right away.

The teenagers’ car provided the knot with an easy solution to a difficult problem.

But Romy felt uneasy at the betrayal of Nancy’s trust. The bluntly-spoken girl had saved her from Lucas, if only for a day. Her brow furrowed at the thought of the young people meeting at the car one day, only to find it gone, stolen by the space soldiers they looked up to.

But protecting her knot trumped any others, any day. And since crashing on Earth, that included making decisions to protect them that she didn’t necessarily like.

She looked up to Phobos, returning his wink. “I guess I’m forgiven for forgetting breakfast?”

“A
re you sure this is a good idea?” Elara eyed the Hull in mistrust.

Romy didn’t blame her. There was a person pressed up against the glass staring at them.

“What’s the plan?” Phobos muttered.

Thrym bent his head towards the group. “Elara and I get the food. You guys circle back from opposite sides. They won’t know where to look. Meet at the girl’s table.”

“Nancy,” Romy supplied.

The knot looked at the building, and Elara exhaled loudly.

Phobos stepped forwards, determination on his face. “Let’s do this.”

The Hull wasn’t so bad when they split everyone’s attention four ways. Nancy eyed Romy as she approached the earth girl’s table. Her same friends from yesterday surrounded her today.

“The whole knot is braving the Hull today,” she said.

Nancy acted blasé, but it was at times like this, when she used Orbito terms, that Romy wondered just how much the other girl knew about the space stations.

Romy caught the twinkling of Nancy’s teasing violet eyes. “It helps when we can sit at a table with people that don’t stare.”

“That
don’t
stare, Fred,” Nancy hissed at her friend.

Romy followed Nancy’s gaze and caught Fred’s open-mouthed expression. Looking to see what he was starting at, she held back a grin. Thrym was approaching, arms laden with plates. Fred was obviously in awe of her knot mate. And why not? Thrym was the perfect image of a space soldier: muscled, tall, strong. She jerked her thoughts to a halt.

Thrym slid a plate in front of her. Romy gave a blissful moan at the sight of eggs. Fresh eggs. Not dehydrated, synthetic yuckiness.

“Hate to hear what you sound like on Christmas Day,” Nancy muttered.

Fred winked at her. “Don’t think I’d mind the sound.”

Thrym stiffened.

Romy shoved some eggs into her mouth. “Everyone, this is Thrym.”

She gathered from the snorts around the table that the group was aware of just who
Thrym
was. So when Elara and Phobos warily took their seats, Romy didn’t bother to introduce them.

The eight teens had smooshed together on the bench to accommodate their four alien guests.

Hushed whispers caught her attention from across the table.

“
But they’re all at our table.”

“And they won’t stay if you don’t play it cool.”

Romy smiled behind her fork and peeked at Phobos when he kicked her. His green eyes were solemn, but she knew the look meant trouble. She narrowed her eyes as he cleared his throat.

“Thrym, did you happen to retrieve my Critamal tooth from the battler?”

Elara choked on her bacon.

Romy tuned him out as Phobos had his fun. Her mind turned to the storage room. She didn’t feel safe there anymore, but she didn’t want the soldier to win. Leaving meant he would know he’d scared her. If he knew she was scared, his suspicion that she had something to hide would be confirmed.

If he knew she had something to hide, then their alibi would come into question, which was dangerous for her knot.

Not happening.

But it wasn’t within Romy to be a complete fool.

Houston was sitting with Tina at the front of the room. She watched as he made to leave, no doubt to begin another long day. Mumbling a quick goodbye, she grabbed her plate and moved to intercept the doctor.

What was more powerful than Lucas?
Only one thing that Romy could think of.

Damn, he moved quickly.

“Houston,” she called as he reached a cleaning station by the doors

The doctor whirled around on one foot, coat swirling behind him. He stamped his front foot, like it was a dance, and spread his arms wide.

Romy smiled at his oddness. She scraped her plate into the compost bins and slid the dish on top of the dirty pile beside it. “I have a question for you.”

“Which I’m happy to answer. But you’ll need to walk and talk. Got a dislocated knee to tend to. They always scream so much, half of the time I only snap it back in so they’ll shut up.” Houston grinned manically at her.

“I think the other half of you does it because you care.”

He swung open the door to the Hull. “Perhaps, little skyling, but don’t tell anyone. I’ll be laughed out of Jimboomba.”

“What does that mean?” she puffed. His legs were about the same length as hers, but she nearly had to run to keep up with his stride.

“Jimboomba? Paradise on Earth. Ironic, huh?”

Romy thought of the rivers and ocean, of the red dust and the peaceful vibe. “I don’t think it is far off.”

“I estimate you have one minute and thirteen seconds to spit out your question.”

This wasn’t a conversation Romy particularly wanted to be huffing about out in the middle of the settlement. There weren’t many people milling around, though, so she dove in with both feet.

“It is a little bit delicate. Could you not repeat this to anyone?”

“I’m a doctor,” he replied. “Fifty-one seconds.”

That did little to reassure her, considering her knowledge of his past actions. “Uh—okay. Are there any rules here about touching people?” she blurted.

His pace slowed. Romy held a stitch in her side, thankful for the more reasonable pace.

“You will need to be more specific, skyling,” Houston said.

She peeked sideways at him, but couldn’t tell anything from his expression.

“Well, say if someone wants to touch you. And you don’t want them to. But they still want to. And it makes you . . . uncomfortable. Is there a rule against that?”

Houston jerked to a stop. “Romy, there isn’t just a rule against that. There’s a law.”

I knew it
, she thought. There was a reason she’d felt so dirty and creeped out when Lucas touched her. It was wrong.

Romy brightened; there wasn’t just a rule, there was a law. That would stop the soldier. “Like a Mandate law?” she asked.

“The Mandate is the only law.”

“Great!” Everyone here seemed afraid of stepping out of line. “And what is it called? That law?”

“Sexual harassment, or sexual assault,” he answered quietly.

She smiled. It made her feel a lot better, having something to use against the man if he returned. “Thanks, Houston.” Romy ran up the steps to the archive room.

He called to her, “Wait! Romy!”

She looked back from the top of the stairs. “Yeah?”

“Has someone . . . done something to you?”

Her smile dimmed as she took in Houston’s solemn face. But the same thought process whipped through her mind: Houston talking to the soldier; the soldier knowing there was something to hide. Danger for her knot.

She shook her head, recovering a grin.

“No, doctor. Just curious.”

* * *

A
n unusual thing had just happened.

Scanner in one hand, Romy stared down at the document spread over her partially cleared desk. The e-storage hadn’t given her any choice in cataloguing the material. Instead, the screen now flashed “CLASSIFIED”.

The scrunched paper didn’t look like anything special. It was a permit denying a reproduction request from a man called Tony Debranc. Debranc . . . it was a funny name. Romy wondered what country it was from.

She tapped the screen to exit out of the classified tab, but the shining device was frozen. She tapped harder.

Loud footsteps sounded on the three small wooden steps into the building.

Romy stood to attention as three soldiers burst into the room.

“Where is it?” the front man demanded.

Wordlessly, Romy pointed to the table, to the unassuming failed permit. The second soldier stepped to one side. Her mouth dried as she saw the third soldier was Lucas.

“It is scanned?” the same man asked.

She nodded.

The second soldier snatched the document from the table while Lucas moved forwards to Romy's side at the computer. She sucked in a breath. Surely he wouldn’t do anything in front of the other soldiers.

She remained coiled as he turned to the device and ran a tag over the screen. Romy peered at the screen from the corner of her eye.

It was only brief. A new screen flashed.

It had categories just like the normal screen. But instead of the usual—construction, legal, environmental options—it read: sentry rosters, posts, weaponry.

She swallowed as Lucas brought up a screen reading, “Authorised to Continue?”

His dark gaze moved over her. “Wouldn’t want you reading anything you’re not supposed to.” The soldier flicked a glance to the two others. One had produced a box, and the document was now incinerating inside.

A hand brushed her chest.

Romy knocked his arm away with gritted teeth, and instead of stepping away, she leant in. His breath was foul, like his teeth were decayed. It suited his personality.

“Don’t touch me,” she hissed. “I know the law. You can’t touch me if I don’t want you to. It’s sexual assault. So. Back. Off.”

He laughed. And Romy rocked back at the genuine, sardonically amused sound.

“Officer Lawry, Officer Meaker. Kindly wait outside while I ask Ms Rosemary a few questions.” Lucas spoke over his shoulder without taking his eyes from her.

How could someone so dangerous speak with such politeness?

They left without a word, closing the door of the storage room behind them, and cold sweat ran down her spine.

She gasped as Lucas clutched a fist of her hair so tightly her eyes watered. “Let go!” She reached back and took hold of his hand, attempting to free the strands from the agony of his grasp.

“Sexual assault?” he snarled. “You don’t know anything about
sexual
assault.” He smirked down at her. “Not yet.”

She tried to turn her face away, but his grip in her hair was too firm. She brought her hand down and struck out blindly, connecting with something bony. Pain shot through her wrist.

Lucas grunted and reached for her wildly striking hand. He caught her hand and wound it behind her back. Romy cried out from the pain in her shoulder.

And then the soldier crushed his lips down onto hers. She stood completely trapped, trying to find air to scream. The two officers were just outside the door!

The force was bruising, almost to the degree of drawing blood. Romy screamed into his mouth as he bit hard on her lower lip. The sound was muted. She thrust her head to the side, hearing the snap of her hair ripping free.

It was no use. She was immobilised in his painful grasp.

She couldn’t do a thing.

He swept her legs from underneath her, and she landed on her back, with a cry, on the hard wooden floor. The relentless pull on her hair was gone, but he hadn’t let go of her arm until the last second and now it was trapped underneath her body. The shoulder shrieked at her to get the limb free and she rolled with a groan, easing her arm from behind her.

The brittle casing of her fear snapped and her breath came fast, eyes wide and trained on him as he lowered himself atop her, trapping both of her wrists with bruising force and pushing them above her head, pinning them to the floor with one hand.

She bucked side to side.

“Mmm,” he said. “I like that.”

She barely heard the words through her terror. His hand was working the button on the front of her shorts. It was something unlearnt, something in her makeup that told her the worst was coming. Because she had no experience, no idea what Lucas could truly do. But Romy’s instincts were telling her that she had to get out of there. She opened her mouth to scream—the sound never made it past the stinging slap from the soldier. Her head lolled to the side and his hand continued its downwards movement. He paused to study her, and Romy hated,
hated
that she was gasping in fear,
hated
that she couldn’t move. But at the same time there was nothing she could do to stop it. Her body was reacting beyond her control, fear holding the reins.

“I work outside of the law,” Lucas whispered into her chest. “If I want to ‘sexually assault’ you, no one will stop me.”

Horror flooded through her as she realised her grievous mistake. Lucas didn’t work for Tina. He worked for someone higher. Lucas worked for the Mandate!

He licked up the side of her face and bile threatened to spill from her mouth.

“We got incoming,” one of the officers called from the door.

They know what he’s doing and they aren’t doing anything to help,
she realised.

Lucas’s expression was triumphant as he ran a finger across Romy’s collarbone, the sensation nearly painful. “You can make this go away if you tell me why you’re here. I don’t
want
to do these things. But I get a little . . . angry . . . when I don’t get answers.”

Romy stared straight ahead at his chest, determined that he would not see her cry. Even if her knot had been standing at gunpoint right then, she didn’t think she’d be able to meet his gaze. Romy's reply was wooden. She was surprised when her voice didn’t betray her panic. “Our knot is here on a research trip.”