by Merry Farmer
“It’s not funny.” Grace stepped between them. It was bad enough that the men wanted to start a war. They didn’t need the women at each other’s throats. She turned her back on Stacey to face Mina. “So you’d willingly cross the river to live with the squadron?”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I’m not the only one.”
“So why don’t you talk to Brian and get him to let you go?”
Mina shook her head and stared at Grace as if she were thick. “What part of ‘dickhead’ do you not understand? Didn’t you hear a thing he said back there? I know I did because he’s loud enough for the whole planet to hear.”
“Moon,” Carrie corrected.
“Whatever. He’s happy with his little empire. He thinks he’s got some plan and keeps holding it over our heads like we’ll all die without him. Why would he let us go when he’s too busy playing king of the castle?”
“Why don’t you just leave?” Grace asked. “We’re only a few hours downstream. I’m sure Kinn’s guards by the river would take you across in a heartbeat.”
“You can’t seriously tell me you didn’t see the armed guards targeting you from about ten different spots.”
Grace’s back went stiff and a flush of alarm pumped through her. “No, I didn’t see anything.”
Carrie and Stacey laughed and blew out frustrated breaths of disbelief.
“Come on, Grace, you’re not serious.” Carrie fixed her with a frank stare. “They were crawling all over the place.”
“One was standing about ten feet behind you, Boss.” Stacey shook her head.
“I didn’t see them,” Grace answered tightly.
“Kutrosky’s got the place on lockdown,” Stacey conceded.
“How did you get out here to catch up to us?” Carrie turned on Mina.
“Very carefully,” Mina snapped. “And I’ve got to go back now. Before he notices I’m not getting more wool.”
She turned to go, sending one last comment to Grace.
“You figure out a way to get us out and we’ll go.” She turned in earnest and dashed back through the undergrowth.
Grace watched the spot where Mina disappeared, heart sinking. She turned and continued on to the river.
“I shouldn’t be leading,” she muttered.
“What?” Carrie chirped as Stacey cried, “No!”
Grace continued to stomp her way through the undergrowth. The sparkle of the sun on the river could be seen through the trees. “If I couldn’t see marksmen right in front of me how am I supposed to lead an entire colony?”
“That’s what advisors are for,” Stacey scolded her.
“Yeah, hello?” Carrie agreed, sharing a grin with Stacey. “That’s us, remember? The ones who have your back?”
“Yeah, Boss. We got your back.”
Grace hung back until they caught up with her and let out a reluctant laugh. She would have rather cried. “Thanks, guys.”
They walked down the slope toward the riverbed. Grace still felt like a failure. She had had such grand designs, such high hopes for helping people, for creating the best society possible. She was a fool. Danny would take her aside and scold her for her lack of confidence. Then he would praise her for her idealism, give her a pep talk and a hug, maybe a kiss, and she would feel like she could conquer the world.
The warm feeling that image brought was snuffed. What would Danny say about the Consistory if she asked him now? Was it still a myth?
“Grace.” Carrie tugged at her sleeve, shaking her out of her thoughts.
She stopped and looked up. Kinn was walking down the riverbank toward them, crossbow slung over his shoulder. She could see a handful of his men lingering at the edge of the woods behind him. The bridge, a tall tree felled across a narrow stretch of the river, was only a hundred or so yards away.
“Kinn,” she greeted him with a diplomatic smile as he drew near. He was the last thing she wanted to deal with in her current frame of mind.
Kinn had switched his uniform pants for ones that appeared to be made of brushed deerskin and his massive arms stood out against the crude leather vest he wore. He was always intimidating, but now he looked like the god of the forest. And she had to tell him she’d failed.
“Hey, Grace.” He smiled at her with his unique brand of reserved over-friendliness. He nodded to Carrie and stared at Stacey before shifting his weight and looking back to Grace. “How’d it go?”
Carrie glared at Kinn as he stepped up to Grace. She snatched Grace’s canteen and walked with Stacey down to the water to fill it. Grace and Kinn watched them go in silence.
“She don’t like me.” Kinn’s grin widened as he nodded to Carrie.
“She doesn’t trust you.” Grace crossed her arms, feeling as tiny as Mina when he turned his eyes back to her. “There’s a difference.”
He shrugged and sniffed, glancing down at the river for a second before turning back to her. “So?”
There was no point in keeping it in. “He said no.” She didn’t need to fan the fires by filling in the details.
“Figures.” Kinn kicked the dirt with the toe of his boot. When he glanced up at her again the animal hunger was back in his eyes. “It’s a shame too. Things are getting really restless over there.”
Grace fought the prickles of fear that his deep voice stirred in her.
“You still might have a chance,” she began quietly. She glanced toward the forest, checking to see if anyone else from Kutrosky’s camp had followed them. Stepping closer to him, she said, “I think some of the women back there are more than ready to move to your camp. But apparently Brian won’t let them.”
“Yeah?” He inched closer to her.
“I don’t know all the details yet. There was this woman, Mina, who said she would go, and she thought she knew some other women who would too.”
“Mina, huh?” He stepped closer, crossing his arms and staring down at her.
“It’s so frustrating that he can’t see sense.” She let her guard down and vented.
Kinn shrugged. The movement brought him right up to Grace’s side. She could feel the heat radiating from his massive body.
“We’ll figure something out.” He reached out a hand and brushed her arm.
Even through the thin layer of her shirt she felt the touch for what it was. Possession. She took a large step back, clearing her throat.
“I don’t think there’s anything more I can do for you there, Kinn.” She shut down the awkward moment. “I didn’t exactly endear myself to Brian. I don’t know if I’ll be welcome there anymore.”
“Sure you will.” He pretended nothing had happened. “You’re Grace. Everyone likes you.”
“Huh.” She rolled her eyes doubtfully.
“No, seriously. You’re smart. And you’re sweet. Governor King always said you were the best.”
“Uh, thanks?” She backed further down the riverbank toward Carrie and Stacey.
“Yeah.” He followed her. “And I was hoping you might help me out with a couple of, I dunno, problems and things in my camp.”
“Problems?” she paused. If she could help Kinn’s people, maybe the day wouldn’t be such a waste after all.
Kinn shrugged and stared down at the ground sheepishly. “There’s some things I don’t know what to do about. Decisions and stuff I’m supposed to be making.”
She blinked rapidly. “What do you want to know?”
He glanced past her to Carrie and Stacey as they walked back from the river whispering to each other. “Ah, I don’t want to talk about this stuff with them around. Mind if I come talk to you about it in private? Like tomorrow down by that cliff where your wreck is?”
Her initial reaction was to say no. She didn’t like it, didn’t like the look in Kinn’s eyes. But what she wanted to do was irrelevant. Her responsibility was to help all of the survivors. Anything that would lead to them forming one settlement.
Carrie and Stacey stopped their conversation as they came withi
n earshot.
“Sure,” she answered Kinn, forcing a smile. “I’ll be there in the afternoon. We’ll work it out then.”
“Thanks, Grace.” His smile seemed innocuous. He nodded to Carrie and Stacey then turned to head back toward the bridge.
Grace walked quickly in the other direction. Carrie and Stacey double-timed to catch up to her.
“What was that all about?” Stacey asked as they cut back into the forest.
“He needs my help.” Grace shrugged. Her voice sounded distant and weak, even to herself.
“He needs something all right,” Carrie growled. “Like a hole in the head.”
“Carrie.” Grace whipped to her. “Nobody dies. Nobody.”
“I don’t like him and I don’t trust him,” Carrie expressed exactly what Kinn had assumed her opinion of him was.
“You don’t like or trust anyone,” Grace muttered, staring at the ground as she charged through the undergrowth.
“Yeah, well, I’ve got my reasons.” Carrie batted aside a branch as she kept to her side. “I don’t like the way he looks at you.”
“He does look at you funny, Grace,” Stacey agreed. “Like Gil when he…well, never mind.”
The comment was designed to make Grace laugh. It nearly worked.
“I think the survival conditions are making everyone’s testosterone shoot through the roof,” Grace excused him. It was easier to make the excuse than to consider any other options.
“Eh, I’ll give you that one,” Stacey shrugged. “You wouldn’t think that Gil had it in him, but ooh baby can that boy go.”
Grace only managed a weak grin but the joke had Carrie in stitches. “I dunno,” she smirked across Grace’s back to Stacey. “Sean might give him a run for his money.”
“Sean? Really?” Stacey laughed. “I thought he liked—” She stopped, cleared her throat, then started up again. “Well, all right then. It’s like something, I dunno, primal comes over ’em, isn’t it?”
“Heck yeah,” Carrie said. “And that’s fine with me.”
Grace winced and picked up her pace, leaving her friends behind to talk about their adventures in bed without her. She could feel the heat prickling under her skin, could imagine herself jumping Danny and taking him right in the middle of the camp, audience or no. She couldn’t afford the distraction.
What she needed was to talk to him. She needed to bounce ideas off of him, to work through the mountain of problems in front of her, in front of all of them. She needed Danny to help her figure out what to do, to take her in his arms, to kiss her and make it all better, to—
She squeezed her eyes shut and gritted her teeth. She needed to sacrifice what she wanted for the greater good.
Chapter Nine – The Mistake
Grace sat in the tall mouth of her cave under the awning Danny had built for her, watching the rain trickle down through the canopy of leaves above their camp. The wooden box from the treasure chests rested on her crossed legs, serving as a lap desk while she pieced together small scraps of leather to make what she hoped would be a new dress. For the hundredth time, the urge to open the box flared, and for the hundredth time she pushed it aside. There were more important things to do than cling to mysteries from a past that were of no use to the real challenges of her present.
She was learning how to sew on the fly. It was an old fashioned skill she would need. After more than two months of daily wear in rough conditions, her two dresses were starting to fray. She wouldn’t have minded if she could have kept to her camp and the people she trusted, but since her failed negotiations with Brian weeks ago, Kinn had had something ‘important’ to discuss with her, some decision that he needed her advice on, every other day. She had no desire to encourage his wandering eyes by having her clothes rip while they talked.
The small fire at her back was enough to keep her warm and dry as the rain drummed in the leafy canopy around the mouth of her cave, but it was a symbol of the list of things that made her nervous. Was it getting cooler? The leaves were still green, but she could have sworn she’d seen yellow and orange announcing autumn in the treetops. The nights had a slight chill to them as well. Were they ready?
The seeds they had planted in the hastily plowed field had sprouted and were growing, but nothing matured overnight. Kinn’s people would put up a valiant fight against the elements, she was sure. The soldiers she had seen at the bridge appeared well-fed and almost all wore hand-crafted clothes now. But was it enough? If her people were living in caves and tents with tools from the treasure chests, what kind of conditions would Kinn’s women have to give birth in?
Kutrosky’s people were a different story. It had been weeks since she’d been to his camp, but Kinn had reported that they were still only hunting and gathering what they needed immediately. It wasn’t enough. They couldn’t have enough supplies to make it through the winter. Yet Kutrosky still refused to budge. It wasn’t right.
“Stop worrying.” Danny’s firm voice startled her as he approached her cave.
Her heart raced as he crouched beside her. “It’s my job,” she replied.
“Then you need to find a new job.”
There was more to his words than a joke.
He handed her one of the steaming earthenware cups he carried and sat against the cave wall facing her. She took the offered cup and breathed in its steam.
“I love this mint tea.” It was the only thing she could think of to say.
“I know.” He grinned and glanced out into the rain.
She studied his profile. Rugged living had changed Danny. He was no longer the smooth, enigmatic scientist she had been proud to call her friend when others shunned him. He’d grown leaner since the crash, lost weight and put on muscle. His clothes were too tight—not enough to embarrass him, but enough to highlight his new physicality. The rain soaked him, dripping rivulets down his face and clumping his eyelashes behind his glasses, but he didn’t seem to mind. He was somehow more handsome for it.
He nodded at her work. “You planning on opening that box any time soon?”
She laid her hands flat on the smooth wood of the lid, staring at it, fear over what it could hold just another variable in her already overloaded mind. “No.”
He let a long silence spread between them as he watched her. The rain began to pick up, making the air heavy.
“Why not?”
“There doesn’t seem to be any point, does there?”
“No point? Anything could be in there.”
“Exactly.”
He looked at her over the top of his glasses. “It might be something that could help us.”
“And it might be something that could cause trouble. Whatever it is, we’re doing just fine without it. What we don’t know can’t hurt us.”
He wasn’t convinced. “How about opening it out of curiosity?”
She broke into a teasing grin. “Your curiosity, maybe.”
He chuckled. The sound seeped under her skin like the rain. She sighed and took a sip of tea.
“Do you ever get the feeling that you’re missing something so obvious that nothing else seems right because of it?”
“All the time,” he sighed.
He stretched his leg out so that it pressed against her thigh. His bare foot rested along her hip. He sipped his tea, watching her like a wolf over his cup.
Give in, she told herself. Give in to that look.
“If I could just figure out what that missing piece is,” she sighed, shoulders drooping. Then she could give in. “Something is holding us all back, keeping us from forming the single colony that we need to survive long-term. I can’t help but feel like Kutrosky isn’t telling us something vital. I would do anything, and I mean anything to bring all three sides of this useless conflict together.”
“Why do we all need to live together?” Danny shrugged. “What’s wrong with what we’ve built here? Aren’t we happy just as we are?” He tapped her hip with his foot.
She arched an eyebr
ow, unsure if he was playing Devil’s advocate. “I’m worried it’s not enough. Strength in numbers, live together, die alone, all for one, one for all,” she quoted the old clichés. The never-ending string of problems was making her head ache. “Instead, what do we have? Conflict and selfishness.”
“Selfishness?”
She rolled her back against the stone cave wall before working her way up to saying, “I can’t help but feel that Kinn’s stubbornness, his refusal to let all our camps integrate, is entirely selfish. There’s something he’s not telling me.”
Danny took a sip of his tea, avoiding her eyes when she looked to him for an answer. “Everyone keeps secrets, things they’re not proud of.”
“That’s not good enough,” she said, then paused as Danny’s words sunk in. “Wait, do you know something about him?”
His mouth twitched. He faced her, a flash of guilt pinching his face. “I ran into him briefly on the Argo once. Let’s just say that neither of us came out of the encounter smelling like roses.”
“Where? When?”
“I thought you considered the Argo and everything on it to be ancient history.” His smile was both teasing and guilty.
“It is.” She shook her head in frustration and twisted the leather she was sewing. “The point of creating a new civilization is not to mimic the petty squabbles of Earth. It’s to do better, to start over.”
“To make your mother proud?”
She sighed, an old ache around her heart. “All I want is to get everyone to see what we could accomplish if we work together, to see reason.”
“Does reason have a timeline?” he asked over the lip of his cup, then sipped.
“Yes,” Grace half exclaimed, half laughed. “I’m about ready to crawl out of my skin with impatience.”
“Impatience, eh?” His eyes danced with suggestion behind his glasses.
Her face heated. “Believe me, Danny, I am prepared to go to extreme lengths to make sure everyone on this moon is safe and settled so that we—” She snapped her mouth shut.
“So that we?” He teased, enjoying every second of her discomfort.