The Retreat (The After Trilogy Book 1) (12 page)

Before Romy had absorbed the first point, Atlas moved on to the next.

“Secondly, you were all made for one reason only: to protect Earth from the Critamal, because no one else could or wanted to do it at the time.”

A pained moan came from Elara’s direction.

“Thirdly, everyone on Earth thinks you’re fully aware of all this and have consented to a life of service. That you willingly
sacrifice
your life so they are kept safe.”

Lies,
Romy thought.
All of it.
She stared at the floor, feeling utterly empty.

“Who did this to us?” Phobos whispered.

She looked up at Atlas and saw his hesitation before he answered.

“The Mandate orchestrated the deception of The Retreat and continued it as a way to control the rest of humanity through fear.”

“What is the Mandate?” Thrym interjected.

The doctor answered from the door. “The world’s government.”

Not only had humans survived, they maintained a structured society too.

Atlas held up a commanding hand to quiet their protests. “I believe this is enough to process considering your current state.” He faced Romy. “You will all have questions, and tomorrow I will answer them as best as I am able. But right now you need medical attention. You need to see your friend and you need to care for yourselves. The rest can wait.”

First Romy trusted Atlas, and then she distrusted him, but now she was so confused she didn’t know what to think. Romy put a hand to her head. The fog from whatever they’d knocked her out with was still slowing her down.

“Rosemary?” A hand tilted her chin. “You need help. You all do. I promise, it will make sense in the end.”

She stared at him and hoped to hell he could see what she thought of that. Of him. Of him lying to her from the start.

His hand dropped to his side, but his gaze stayed where it was.

“Uh, Atlas,” Houston called in a low voice. “The time. . . .”

Atlas looked at a gadget on his wrist and cursed under his breath. “Do the honours, would you?”

The shorter, lanky man wasn’t given much of a choice as Atlas swept out of the room.

Houston looked from their group, to the door, and back, hovering in indecision. He held up one finger and wrenched open the door. “Just one sec,” he said, and scrambled after Atlas.

The four immediately turned to each other. Romy saw her own weary bafflement reflected in her friends’ expressions.

“But how did humankind survive?” Thrym asked, voice flat.

No one had an answer.
He
had all the answers.

Elara wrung her hands. “What other logical explanation is there? Why would he lie?”

“It just . . . can’t be true,” Phobos said.

Romy shook her head. She didn’t know what she believed. The man had given them three damn sentences and expected them to swallow his story without question. But for some reason, that was exactly why she wanted to believe him.

How had the supposed government created a subterfuge of this scale? The Retreat was 150 years ago!

And then Elara asked a question Romy hadn’t thought of. One that sent trickles of fear down her spine.

“If it’s a lie . . . what will the Mandate do if they find us?”

A light lit in her mind. That was why Atlas didn’t want them to say anything. But how would he explain their presence to all of the Earth humans outside? If the Mandate caught them. . . .

Well, Romy could only see two outcomes to that, and neither option—a memory wipe, or death—were good.

“If this government has kept this secret for over a century, I don’t think they’ll be happy to see us,” Phobos said, echoing Romy’s thoughts.

Thrym gave a tight nod. “Then we need to decide if we stay or go,” he said.

Romy exchanged a look with Phobos.

“We have to stay. They have Deimos.” He answered her unspoken question.

“We’re too vulnerable at the moment,” Romy said. “We’d need equipment, and, well, we need to know more about surviving here, too.”

Elara pursed her lips. “We didn’t pass any other camps on the way. Maybe we don’t have to worry about being caught.”

There was one massive flaw in that line of thought. “How many Earth humans do you think saw our battler enter Earth’s atmosphere?” Romy asked.

The others returned her grim expression. The obvious answer was, a lot. And who knew what machines had registered the battler’s entrance.

“The Mandate will search for the wreckage.”

Just like Atlas had.

“And when they don’t find our bodies?” Romy asked.

Thrym sighed. “Then they’ll search for us.”

“Find us.” Elara’s voice trembled.

“Probably kill us,” Phobos added cheerfully. “Don’t forget that.”

Elara sniffed. Romy’s fiery friend was at the very edge of her tolerance. “So, what? Stay. Wait while Deimos recovers. And then escape?”

It was a vague, uncertain plan. Stupid really, when the Mandate could show up without warning. But when the floor has just caved from underneath you, you hang on to whatever control you can to stay afloat.

Romy gazed at her knot with solemn eyes. “We learn all we can while we’re here. We take anything that might help us survive,” she said.

Three pairs of grave eyes met her own.

The door flew open, startling the group.

“Sorry, team,” the doctor said. A grin covered his boyish, bespectacled face.

Romy frowned at his cheery façade. They’d just learned their entire existence was a lie. But the man with the curly, mousey hair was oblivious to their disapproval as he spun around to the hall, calling, “After me, aliens.”

E
ventually Romy stopped questioning everything Houston was doing. After their visit to Deimos, he’d wasted no time in plugging her into medi-tech, which didn’t concern her. It was a routine occurrence on the orbitos. But she knew that by doing so, he could alter the programming of her nanos.

He took a lot longer on her than he did on any of the others.

His answers to her questions included so many foreign words of Latin origin that she instead asked him, “Is it safe?” His reply of “yes” had somewhat reassured her. Which didn’t make any sense, considering he was a bit strange.

The man took blood from Romy and the others, and injected them several times before programming the medi-tech to update their nanos for Earth diseases. Then, after what felt like hours, Houston finished jabbing and tinkering and led them to an isolated “bungalow,” leaving the four members of the knot with instructions to clean and eat.

Knot 27 stood just inside the door, staring at the Earth house. It was made of dark wood. There was a table and chairs, four trundles and a separate bathroom. Houston had called them “aliens.” But to Romy and her knot, everything here was alien. The textures, the materials, the tools. The contraptions were unfamiliar and the scents were strange.

Phobos dropped his bundle of new clothes onto the bed and turned to the knot, arms crossed. “Does anyone else get that feeling that you know less at the end of the day than you did at the start?”

Despite herself, Romy cracked a smile.

Thrym placed his bundle on a bed and sat down in one tired, drawn out movement. “At least we know one thing we didn’t.”

Deimos was alive.

Romy claimed her own bunk, atop Thrym’s. She listened as Elara replied, “Dei will live.”

It was the only good news they’d had since crashing.

Romy still couldn’t believe how much better Deimos had appeared—though he was a shadow of his former self. All variety of tubes were helping to eradicate the pneumothorax he’d sustained in the crash and the ensuing blood poisoning, but they’d been told their friend would live.

That their knot would still be whole. That was all that mattered.

Any consequence that came after, or had happened because of Atlas and Romy’s decision to follow him, was worth it.

She hoped.

* * *

T
he shower was glorious.

Once they figured it out.

What an unusual sensation to have water falling on you from above. The knot only ever had basin washes on board Orbito One. But this? This she could get used to.

Romy dried and put on the fresh underclothes they’d been provided. Hanging the towel to dry, she stepped back into the main part of the bungalow.

“Shower’s free,” she called to Phobos.

“Finally,” he muttered. Romy frowned at him as he brushed past.

She raised her eyebrows at Thrym, who shrugged, face turning red as his eyes scanned her body. Romy wondered why he did it. It wasn’t like her entire knot hadn’t seen her in underwear before—a million times. The Earth underwear was a little different, she supposed.

She returned to her bed to find her bundle open and scattered everywhere. The pants and sleeveless shirt she’d seen before were gone.

Romy turned a glare to Elara, who lay on her stomach—wearing Romy’s clothes.

“Sorry, Ro. I’m not wearing the thing they gave me,” Elara said. She sat up and reached over, tossing a garment into Romy’s face.

Blood rushed to her cheeks as anger swept through her. She pushed her temper down, turning away from Elara so the girl couldn’t see. Her anger surprised her. It was only a bit of clothing, for comet’s sake.

The garment was a shirt. But longer. A dress, Romy realised with a thrill, grinning at Thrym. It faded. He was sitting, casting furtive glances at her when he thought she wasn’t looking. Was there something wrong with her? She tried not to fidget under his looks.

Slipping the dress over her head, she fastened the criss-crossing ties at the front and then twirled. Once she’d read a book called
Cinderella
. She felt exactly like the title character, except the dress Romy wore only hung to her knees, and had an orange floral print.

“Pretty,” Thrym grunted.

She wasn’t sure about not wearing pants. This was a completely new sensation for her. But it was exciting to be in Earth clothes. “Thanks.” She smiled. Thrym blinked before spinning his chair the other way.

Elara and Romy shared a long glance.

Houston told the four they weren’t to leave their bungalow before he came for them. Phobos was barely dressed when a loud booming knock sounded at the door. Thrym got up to open it. Houston charged through the door before her knot mate could get there.

“Good sleep, little aliens?” he asked.

Romy worked to keep her smile at bay. Everything that came out of his mouth was so offending, but for some reason she couldn’t dislike him for it. Thrym, however, didn’t look like he appreciated the digs.

Houston didn’t wait for a response. “Atlas wants to talk again, now you’ve had a chance to scrub up.” He slid his glasses down to the end of his nose, observing Elara. “You didn’t like the dress? That’s a shame.”

The knot exchanged confused looks. This man had intended the dress to go to Elara? Elara’s face turned Mars-red.

Houston coughed. “Before we go, cover story. You’re a research team from the Orbitos. You are learning human behaviours to better integrate them into space life. Capisce?”

“Ca—peesh?” Phobos said slowly.

Houston blew out a slow breath. “It means, do you understand?”

Romy nodded in agreement. The plan worked to their advantage also. It meant the knot could ask questions without raising suspicions.

“Atlas told the settlement you had trouble adjusting to the ground.” He spoke to Romy, waving them through the door.

His eyes rested on the dress Romy wore and he shook his head, casting doleful looks at Elara. The surge of anger she’d felt earlier reappeared. It was so intense it stopped her in her tracks, causing Phobos to smash into her.

“Watch it,” he snarled.

His face melted into shock at his outburst. Was the same thing happening to him?

Houston observed them with sparkling eyes. “Can’t wait to explain that. Come, come.”

The doctor prattled on as he led them on a dancing walk through the buildings.

“So. ‘Aliens’ is hilarious and all, but originality points equal zero. I thought I’d run some names by you, if that’s okay. . . .”

The response was silence and glares from the others, but Houston looked to the sky and held up one hand, screwing up his face.

“Vulcans,” he said, scanning the knot.

Romy gave him a tentative smile.

“No?” he asked. “I quite liked that one.” He ticked a finger off. “Hmm, what about The Force? I’m a big Star Wars fan.”

Thrym began to simmer beside her.

“What about ‘Stars’?” Elara offered quietly.

Houston stopped in his tracks and gave Romy’s friend a small smile. “Stars, huh? I’m not sure about the others, but I think it suits you just fine.”

It happened again. Elara went bright red: cheeks, ears, and all.

“And what about a name for you?” Phobos spoke up. The tone of his remark immediately alerted Romy he was about to erupt.

Thrym said, “How about Earthling?”

Romy squeezed her eyes shut.

“Ah, Thrym, originality points equal zero.” Phobos shook his head. “I’m thinking ‘Doesn’t-Know-When-to-Shut-Up’.” He circled Houston, leaning in to invade the doctor’s personal space. “Or maybe ‘Punched-in-the-Face’.”

That certainly got the doctor’s attention. Romy’s mouth dropped open. Did Phobos just threaten to hurt someone? Over a harmless joke?

“Phobos. . . ,” Elara interjected. She reached a hand out to him, which he brushed away.

“Leave me alone,
star.
”

Houston’s face lost its nervous edge, lighting up as his gaze flickered between Phobos and Elara. “Oh, I see.” His grin was evil. “Ha! Well, that’s gonna make for an awkward Christmas.”

“Do you think he has frontal lobe damage?” Thrym whispered.

Romy didn’t know, but if Houston didn’t stop, Phobos was going to attack him. He wasn’t himself. Something was off. And the vibes she was catching from him were stressing her out.

“Houston. Shut up,” Atlas said, striding up to them. He was dressed in his black, pocketed pants and a white T-shirt.

Houston’s laughter quickly faded to a soft snuffling sound.

“I expected you twenty minutes ago,” Atlas shot at his friend.

“Well—”

Atlas cut him off. “And do us all a favour and keep the nicknames to yourself.”

Romy couldn’t help a giggle at Houston’s surprised expression. He honestly hadn’t noticed how angry Thrym and Phobos were getting?

“Come,” Atlas said to the group.

They entered the tallest of the official-looking buildings in the semi-circle clearing. Houston led them to the same large room full of tables and chairs from the day before. Atlas didn’t speak another word, just gestured to the doctor before taking the seat directly behind Romy. The hairs on the back of her neck rose.

“Atlas has some things to say to you, and as amusing as it would be to keep watching your knot, I really should explain why you’re all going loco.”

Romy straightened, listening with avid attention.

Houston closed his eyes briefly, utter bliss flittering over his face before he opened them once more. “Who here has heard of puberty?”

Puberty. Romy racked her brain for the answer. The term had a familiar ring to it, but she couldn’t quite place it.

“The physical change from child to adult,” Thrym said in a soft voice.

The reminder was all Romy needed to recall the reference. Houston’s cheeks puffed out. Romy held true concern he might explode.

He recovered. “Correct. Started by the release of hormones from your brain to your junk.”

“What does he mean by ‘junk’?” Elara whispered.

“Houston, you’re confusing them,” Atlas reprimanded.

“All right, from the top,” Houston said. “You…” He threw a glance at Atlas. “Space humans are harvested at twelve years old.” He looked over his glasses and nodded when they affirmed the fact. “But when you're fished out of your tank, you’re full-grown.” He ran his eyes over Elara. “And the hormones in the brain that would trigger puberty are repressed with your nanotech and supplements in your food.”

“This eliminates accidental reproduction,” Thrym said.

Houston pointed at him, pacing in excitement. “It does. It also makes you emotionally stable. Creating the perfect soldier, unhindered by lust, infatuation, and the moods associated with fluctuations in hormone levels.”

Romy could see no reason this was a problem. It made sense. She voiced her thoughts.

“Ah, Romy. It wouldn’t be a problem at all—aside from the whole ethical immorality thing—except without the supplemented hormone repressors in orbito food, you would start to experience the first tickles of puberty.” Houston clasped his hands together in front of his mouth, his eyes dancing as he observed them. “So I removed the suppressor nanos, too, so the process is short and
sweet.
”

Romy narrowed her eyes.

Phobos was fidgeting. “What would this make us feel?”

“Volatile anger, fatigue, attraction. Some are gender specific; males can experience rather interesting dreams, and regular thoughts of bow-chika-wow-wow, accompanied by—”

“Houston,” Atlas’s voice rumbled behind her. Romy jumped, having forgotten he was there.

“Sorry,
sexual intercourse
,” Houston amended. “Does any of this sound familiar, Phobos?”

Romy shot her friend a look, only to find his face drained of all blood. Had he experienced something other than volatile anger?

“It will also affect some of your responses to external stimuli. You may feel emotions more strongly and your body will react to those emotions differently,” Houston said.

“What about females?” Thrym asked.

Romy was grateful his question covered up Phobos’s embarrassment. She grabbed Thrym’s hand and squeezed it. Her knot mate tightened his hold, so their hands remained linked together.

Houston grinned evilly. “Oh, you know. They get periods and PMS.”

Romy exchanged a look with Elara. “What is a period?” she asked.

She heard Atlas shifting behind her.

Houston’s face deadpanned. “The shedding of the vaginal wall once a month.”

Suddenly Romy didn’t want to hold Thrym’s hand anymore. She dropped it and fixed her gaze on the wall behind Houston.

She knew the anatomy of the human body. Her nose scrunched as she imagined the rest. An awkward silence descended upon the room, apart from the muffled snorts from Houston. He had to be the most unprofessional doctor she’d ever met. Or maybe all Earth doctors were like this.