Tundra 37 (19 page)

“I know you like him.” Luna’s voice turned cold as the frost on her boots.

Gemme paused. Did she hear her correctly or did the wind distort Luna’s words?

“What?”

Luna fastened the straps on her backpack, making sure they fit perfectly over her shoulders. “I know you have the hots for Brentwood.”

Gemme’s heart quickened as her faced burned. She looked away, pretending to search for more vials. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Luna retrieved two vials from the ground, walked beside her, and shoved them into the trays. “I see the way you look at him, all rosy cheeked and wide-eyed.”

“You must be mistaken. I—”

“He’s not yours to have.”

This time Gemme did look up from the snow, quirking her eyebrows at Luna. Was she kidding?

Luna stared her down with lasers in her eyes. “He’s mine. I know that’s why you didn’t want to pair us together.”

Her gloved finger pointed at Gemme accusingly. “Let me wake you to reality. I saw the ship reports on decks eighty-five through a hundred. Your computer program crashed, dear. Now it’s a free for all, and I’m not letting him get away. I’ve had my eyes set on him longer than you’ve been the Matchmaker, and the Legacys always get what they want in the end.”

Gemme sat in the snow utterly speechless, wondering how to respond and thinking of nothing. “Luna—”

“Shhhh. Your embarrassing secret is safe with me. Just do as I ask and I won’t let him in on your little crush.”

“Ladies, I trust you’re almost finished.”

Gemme bolted from her knees and whirled around. Brentwood, the last person she wanted overhearing such a heated conversation, approached them in a quick jog.

“Oh yes, quite finished, right Gemme, dear?” Luna’s voice turned sweet again. “Gemme’s just volunteered to carry the trays to the landrover for me, haven’t you?”

She plopped five stacked trays in Gemme’s arms. “Go on. You don’t want to make us late.”

Gemme gritted her teeth as the moment slipped away. She’d lost control. Luna had made her do the grunt work and got time alone with Brentwood. If Gemme called her out now, she’d look just as bad as Luna. Besides, now was not the time to bicker. Alpha Blue already lagged behind schedule, and she carried the answers to further their colonization efforts. Grumbling under her breath, Gemme left Luna with Brentwood, stumbling on her still swollen feet. How did she let the biologist get the better of her?

Luna’s high-pitched laughter echoed behind Gemme as she trudged through the snow to the landrover. Her insides hardened into steel. She wished she could delete her feelings as easy as she pressed the Delete word on her touchscreen a few days ago, or that the comets had hit ten minutes sooner, preventing her from seeing Brentwood as her predestined lifemate. But deep down she knew, knowledge or not, she’d still be drawn to him like a planet to a star. Not only was he gorgeous, but he also had a sense of humor, of honor, and he made her feel special, like she was more than a boring computer analyst. Everyone talked of his looks, but it was how he made Gemme feel that drew her in.

Brentwood deserved better than Luna, stunning as she was. As the Matchmaker, Gemme could see the absurdity of their pairing. Luna would drive him crazy. She’d manipulate him, just like she manipulated her, forcing him to do all of the work his entire life. The fact that Gemme had been the chosen pairing for Brentwood burned like a hot coal in her heart. She had to show him her feelings one way or another, even if she no longer had the computer’s help.

Brentwood stared at Luna, frustration brimming up. The Legacys were known for having others do their dirty work, and he couldn’t have that happening on this mission, even if her family was powerful. “Honestly, you’re going to make Ms. Reiner carry all those trays by herself?”

Luna laughed, edging closer to him. “She needs something to keep her busy. Besides, I don’t see you helping her.”

“That’s because we have to talk.” He leaned so close her rosy perfume tickled his nose. He knew their proximity would look suspicious, but he couldn’t have Gemme or Tech overhearing, not if he wanted to follow the Seers’ orders. His voice fell to a whisper. “You can’t mention the code word in front of the team. If they suspect us of withholding information, it will only lead to trust issues among the other members of Alpha Blue.”

The way Luna flaunted their secret mission annoyed him, and he had to put a stop to it before her actions sacrificed the main mission and before it drove Gemme away. He could feel her pulling back from him, and he suspected Luna was the cause. “What do those samples have to do with the orb?”

Luna crossed her arms in a complacent stance, her painted eyebrow arched. “Everything.”

Brentwood paused to hear more, but her lips remained sealed. She had him intrigued, and she’d draw out the conversation to last as long as it could.

He gave her an admonishing look as if to say
let’s not play games
. “How so?”

“So far, with the basic testing I can do out here, none of the specimens have even remotely the same composition as the orb. In fact, nothing on this planet does.”

“Which means?”

“The orb is not from Tundra 37, nor is the beacon we’re supposed to locate.”

“You’re saying that aliens, intelligent life, put it here?”

She shrugged noncommittally. “Maybe.”

Unease traveled up Brentwood’s back, tingling his neck. Alpha Blue trespassed in potentially dangerous territory. Who knew if these aliens wanted their device found? What if it was a weapon? What if they came back for it?

He stiffened as the picture solidified in his mind. That’s why the Seers had to have the artifact and that’s why they’d labeled their mission top secret. They wanted information on this species without widespread panic. The colonists had enough to worry about besides potentially dangerous alien devices. What he couldn’t fathom was how they’d managed to get themselves stranded on the very same planet that held a matching artifact to the orb. Unless these aliens distributed them across the galaxy on every life-sustaining planet, the odds were steep.

Luna brought him out of his musings by clinging to his arm. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” He looked back to check on Gemme just as she turned around, catching him with Luna’s fingers wrapped around his biceps. He pulled his arm away, cheeks burning like a dwarf star. He felt like a complete ass and he hadn’t even done anything wrong. “I must attend to the others.”

The snow crunched under his boots, hard as the stare Gemme shot him when he reached the landrover. She’d already packed and secured Luna’s trays and there was nothing left to help her with. Brentwood walked over to Tech where he’d have better luck at a conversation.

Tech shifted his weight in the driver’s seat. “I’m ready for another round of chauffeur, chief.” A claw from the alien mammoth dangled from the rear view mirror, the tip curved like a buccaneer’s blade.

Brentwood gestured to the decoration. “Trophy?”

“More like a souvenir.” Tech emphasized the last syllable with a thick French accent, which made Brentwood laugh.

“Brushing up on your Française?”

“My ancestors were from Canada.” He gave him a wink. “Way back in the Old Earth days, of course.”

Brentwood couldn’t get enough information about the Old Earth days, but now wasn’t the time to learn. He leaned on the hatch. “You sure you don’t want me to drive?”

“No, sir. You should get some rest if you’re going to pull an all-nighter.”

“Wise advice.” Brentwood yearned to sit in the back next to Gemme anyway. Maybe he could squelch whatever notions she had of him and Luna for good. He climbed in, pulling the seat restraint across his chest. Gemme followed, one boot on the threshold. Just as he opened his mouth to address her, she stopped and jerked backward. Brentwood leaned over in his seat, watching as Luna grabbed her arm.

“You haven’t gotten a chance to sit in front, right, hon?”

Oh no. Why did Luna insist on inserting herself everywhere he went?

Brentwood hung on Gemme’s response. “No, but I’m quite content to sit—”

“Nonsense.” Luna pushed past her and claimed the backseat. She belted herself in and waved her painted fingernails to the front. “Go ahead, take my seat.”

“Have it your way.” Gemme sounded ambivalent as she pushed past them and settled into the front seat. Disappointment panged inside Brentwood’s chest. But what was he supposed to do? Order Luna to sit up front? There was no rationale to explain that. He’d be a poor leader, using his own job to win him time with the woman he admired.

He forced a smile as Luna turned to him. “Always the pleasure, Lieutenant.”

“Indeed.” Brentwood closed his eyes, hoping if he pretended to sleep, she wouldn’t bother him.

“Onward!” Tech announced, flinging his fingers over the touchscreen panels.

The landrover took off, large wheels grinding the snow underneath them. Brentwood heard Gemme ask Tech about their course from the front seat. Although he longed to join in their conversation, exhaustion caught up with him, and the monotonous drone of the engines lulled him to sleep.

§

His Appaloosa jerked his head with impatience as Brentwood’s gaze swept up to the billowy clouds amassing on the horizon. The steed bucked and he gripped harder, the rough leather of the reins rubbing against his calloused hands. The smell of wet grass, horsehide, and old leather stung the air in a combination of scents both familiar and comforting.

“We’d best be getting home before the storm rolls in.” A man with gray-speckled dark hair turned his own steed toward a vast carpet of long-stemmed grasses bowing to the westerly wind. The man wore a wool vest and cotton trousers stuffed into leather boots. A cowboy hat with a golden buckle across the front was tied to a cord under his beard. Golden swirls moved across the buckle.

Brentwood’s rough shirt fell loose around his biceps, rustling in the wind against his chest. His cuffs were rolled up, and he’d tucked the hem of his shirt into wool trousers. He didn’t remember putting those particular clothes on that morning, but fog covered his mind, blurring his memory.

“You joining me, Michael? The Larson family will need help bringing in the sheep, especially with Harriet’s ma catching fever.” The man titled his hat against the wind, the intricate etchings on concentric circles in the silver buckle catching Brentwood’s eye. Where had he seen that pattern before?

“Michael?”

It took Brentwood a moment to realize the man addressed him. He could have sworn he said
Michael
and not
Miles
, but the howl of the wind muffled his words and with the storm brewing, now was not the time to question him.

“Sure, lead the way.”

He kicked his spurs into the horse’s flanks and his mount took off into a gallop, following the man down a dirt path cut into a hill. The grass rose up to his shins, the tips spreading into three fingers like turkey’s feet.

Had he ever seen a turkey? Brentwood scratched his head, trying to make sense of his upturned world. He knew what a turkey looked like and how it tasted, but he didn’t think he’d ever seen one darting through the long grasses.

“Gonna be a doozy,” the man shouted over his shoulder as his horse picked up its pace. Crows black as coal cawed angrily and scattered into the sky as the horses disturbed their perches.

Brentwood searched the plains stretching across the horizon. A barn with a broad gabled roof attached to a cottage stood out in a dark silhouette. Gray smoke plumed from a red brick chimney, the scent of roasted pheasant riding the air. The sight stirred a yearning in his chest. It felt like home.

The storm rode their heels, blowing in on gusts of dank air. A pattering of rain caught up with them, light drops cooling Brentwood’s forehead. They reached the cottage just as thunder grumbled in the darkening sky.

“Go on in and check on Jenna. Meet me in fifteen minutes by the crossing at Bull’s Head.”

Before Brentwood could respond, the man shouted a command and dug his spurs into his horse. They took off in a flurry of pale dust. Brentwood’s gaze traveled along the crude logs stacked up as walls to the cottage. Deer antlers hung on the doorframe, the third ivory tip broken off into a stub.
Did I hunt that?

The covered porch creaked as a woman wearing a paisley bonnet and an apron blue as an autumn sky stepped out. At first all he could see was her fine, brown hair as the wind stole it away from the edges of the lace. She turned, revealing eyes gray as the clouds behind him and porcelain skin dotted with freckles.

Gemme.

“Thank goodness. I thought the storm would blow in before you returned.” She spoke with a slight accent, savoring the syllables in a way he’d never heard her speak before. She rushed toward him as he dismounted.

“I don’t know where I am, or how I got here. All I know is you—”

She wrapped her arms around him, taking his breath away. Brentwood stood rigid as a pole in shock, his arms outstretched like a scarecrow. Every muscle in his body urged him to hold her, but somehow he thought their proximity was indecent, as if they’d only met. But he’d known her for a while. Had it been months? Years?

She moved her hands up along his neck. Her fingers trailed warmth, setting his skin on fire. She cupped his chin with both hands and pulled his face down toward hers. He molded to her body, bending to her will. She arched her head up and pressed her lips against his.

Intense need surged inside him and he pushed into her kiss. Her lips were soft and sweet like honey, and he brought his arms around her, asking for more. She pressed herself against his chest as if the crude cotton would dissolve between them.

The cloudiness in his head had cleared, and everything about the moment fit in place, as if he’d never truly lived until this day. Had his whole life before this instant been false? Finally existing in the place he ached to be, he didn’t care.

System reports flooded in, each one making Mestasis feel like more of a failure. Plants were dying in the biodome, entire species of vegetables winking out of existence. People shivered in their sleep pods, and the fusion reactor verged on collapse. She couldn’t face the fact the entire colony might fail because of her errors. Ignoring the alarming impulses, she focused on her memories. The situation around her only worsened, and she hungered for escape. The orb called to her, promising numb oblivion.