The Descendant: Baltin Trilogy (Book 1)

by Melissa Riddell

  A normal person would wrap their arms around his chest and shoulders, but the idea is a tad too personal now. Instead, I let his agony sharpen my focus and pull him out of his dark memories. “Which is all the more reason to figure out what they want with us.” My voice firms. “Have you found anything out from Sparky, anything we can use?”

  He shakes his head, not just in response but as if clearing the memories away. “No, nothing useful yet. The longer we’re with him, the more I get the feeling he’s developing a sense of self—not just another mindless robot.”

  His head turns to the window. “When you were sleeping on the couch last night, he sat on the front porch with Kodiak, petting him. I think he enjoyed the sensation—or the camaraderie—or both. Give him a chance.”

  “Oh no, he didn’t. That creep isn’t allowed anywhere near my bacon-stealing dog.” My eyebrows climb my forehead, and my voice gets screechy—not pretty. “Kodiak sat there and let him put his dirty, robotic hands on his fur, and didn’t even growl?”

  Some of the sadness leaves his face, smoothing the tightness of his mouth. “Yep, but I’m sure Kodiak didn’t enjoy it very much.”

  I hurl my napkin across the kitchen, putting more force into the throw than needed. It hits a spice rack and knocks one of the glass jars to the floor. The bottle shatters, spreading a dark red powder on the linoleum. Good thing we’re going to leave soon, because I’m not picking up the pieces.

  “Nice try, Jareth. That damned dog has got to be the worst guard dog in the entire world.” Putting both hands to my head, I rub the skin of my skull. “And I can’t trust him with anyone. He runs off with the first person, or thing, he sees.”

  Jareth’s laugh rumbles from his throat, deep and genuine. It sends a thrill to my heart, because it’s the same chuckle when we met. Has it only been a couple of days since he found me on the road? The longer I’m with him, the more it feels like we’ve always known each other.

  Cayenne pepper scents the air. My throat tickles and my eyes water. Gasping, I cough and throw his napkin in front of my face. Oops.

  He shakes his head with a grin and leans over the sink. With a finger, he pushes the window open, then kneels to the floor. Reaching an arm to the counter for balance, he wipes the powder and glass into his hands.

  “Sorry.”

  Unbothered by the hot spice swirling in the air, he dumps the mess into a covered trashcan. “It’s all good.”

  A warm wind blows my hair, caressing my cheeks, and rids the room of its last vestige of sorrow—and cayenne pepper.

  “Kodiak’s a good judge of character, and he loves you the most. You can see it in his eyes—how he adores you.”

  “Not enough to keep him from stealing my bacon, though.”

  A dark, arched eyebrow raises. “Oh, your bacon, huh?”

  I roll my eyes and give in. “Fine, fine, you found it, you cooked it, blah blah blah, but the point is—hell, I don’t even know what the point is anymore. Oh yeah, the point is—he thinks an alien robot is okay to pal around with. How can I trust a robot-loving, bacon-stealing mutt?”

  Ever the clean freak, Jareth shrugs his shoulders in good nature and clears the empty plates from the table. “Well, I don’t know, but you better learn to trust because we’re going to be on the road for a while.”

  Somehow, I get the feeling he’s talking about more than the dog. You’re going to have to trust someone, and he’s standing right there.

  Slamming a lock on that thought, I decide him being a halfway decent person is the first thing to focus on. Baby steps to the next phase, if there’s a next phase—if I want a next phase. Mocking laughter thuds in my head.

  You already know what you want, so why are you lying? Because, since Abilene, my faith doesn’t come cheap.

  “I’m going to go find Kodiak and get my stuff to head out, if you’re good?” I hold out a hand with the question.

  “Sure. I packed a bunch of MREs last night, but if you have room, put some in your bag, too.” He moves to a walk-in pantry in the corner and pulls the accordion-style door open.

  I head off into the living room and spy the big dog’s tail behind the recliner. “Kodiak, get your meat-stealing ass over here.”

  The tail twitches, but the rest of his body stays in hiding.

  “I can see your damn tail, dog.”

  When I move closer, he pulls it out of sight. “I know you’re back there, and I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

  A small whine squeaks.

  “No, I’m not going to forgive you. Some people consider gluttony a sin, you know.”

  My face cracks a grin, and I turn to the stairs and gather up my meager belongings.

  Jareth and I meet back on the first floor. “So did Sparky stay outside all night?”

  “Yep.”

  The thought of him walking around the house all night tickles my funny bone. That image of the automated vacuum following a pre-set path merges with the image of the robot following the perimeter of the house.

  When I reach the door, I stretch out and knock on the recliner. “Come on, Kodiak, let’s go.”

  A snout, carrying a small, gray mouse, emerges from behind the chair.

  “I’m not keeping up with that nasty thing, so you better hope you don’t lose it.” He keeps his head toward the floor, unwilling to meet my gaze. “Then again, I might decide to steal it when you’re not looking.”

  Jareth pulls the front door open. “Give it a rest. He can’t fight his carnivorous instinct.”

  Kodiak slips from between the wall and chair, skirts my legs, and runs to Jareth, who reaches down to pat him on the head.

  A glimpse through the screen shows a motionless Sparky standing on the porch.

  Ugh, his idiotic presence is a major buzzkill.

  When I pass by the recent grave, I focus on the trees surrounding the house.

  A decent breeze blows, and the spicy smell of autumn follows. Several oaks are in the process of fading from dark green into yellows and browns. It’s too early and warm for a complete change, but it won’t be long.

  Kodiak, still pacing with Jareth, moves his head in my direction.

  “Yeah, keep your butt up there, you little thief. Just wait ‘til the next time we come across a package of dog treats.”

  Jareth scratches the dog’s back. Under his breath but in ear range, he negates my warning, “Don’t worry. I got treats in my bag. She’s all smoke and no fire.”

  “So, that’s how it’s gonna be.” I pick up a tiny acorn and chuck it at the back of Jareth’s head. It misses.

  The man can be so irritating. One minute, he opens his heart, and the next—he’s encouraging bad behavior. He and the mutt deserve each other.

  “Hey.” The view of denim fabric covering well-formed glutes draws my attention. “Do you think it’s safe to be traveling on the road in broad daylight like this?” The thought of him shirtless, wearing nothing but the jeans, comes to mind. This leads to another thought. Didn’t I catch a glimpse of more tattoos under his shirt? Yum.

  For the love of God, woman, focus.

  “I mean, aren’t you worried about getting spotted by more pods?” It’s a scenario that’s been nagging at me. “I don’t want any more run-ins”—an image of him in nothing but the kiss the cook apron floods my mind—“I want to get to Florida in one piece.”

  Stop it, I scold myself—he’s not all that, well, maybe . . .

  He stops on the shoulder of the road and graces me with a glance.

  “Now, now, Red. You’re with me —I won’t let the big, bad monsters get you.” Eyes twinkling, he stands and waits for me to catch up.

  “I’m serious.” Lifting a shoulder, I adjust the strap of my pack. “We’re sitting ducks for any sphere”—something prickles my side—“robot that flies over us.” A thistle burr clings to my shirt. Messing with it, I stop in front of him.

  Reaching around my waist, he frees the burr, examines it, and then flicks it into some tall grass.
“Better.” He sticks an index finger out and thumps my nose.

  I bat his hand away with annoyance. “You’re an—”

  “Nothing’s going to get us. We’re safe. That pod—Sparky—was an outlier when he found you.”

  “An outlier?”

  “Yeah, an outlier. Something that lies outside of the norm.”

  Batting my lashes, I raise my voice several octaves. “Oh, my, Sir, thank you for that definition. I’m only a poor country girl who’s never read a book in her entire life.” I fake a gasp. “I’m so thrilled to have a man here to explain everything to little ‘ole me. My poor female brain can’t handle too much knowledge, you know.”

  He holds out his hands. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying”—

  “I know what the word means, Mr. Mansplainer. I want to know what makes you think he’s an outlier?”

  “It’s just a hunch.” He grabs a small pebble from the road and sends it skipping into a field.

  The robot of the hour continues to march in front of me. “Sparky, if you had something in that helmet besides wires and whatnot, you could tell us what you were doing.”

  Sparky’s feet shift in my direction, and his heads tilts slightly. “I am unable to follow the conversation.” He holds a gloved hand in my direction, palm up. “What is a mansplainer?”

  I point a finger in Jareth’s direction. “It’s an arrogant man who takes it upon himself to educate women based on the false assumption they don’t know anything.”

  After throwing another rock into the field, Jareth closes the few feet between our bodies. He’s not wearing his jacket, and the red and black tattoo peeks out when his arm swings.

  Focus, Tilly.

  What were we talking about? The outlier. “Besides, I already saw two of them a few weeks apart. I think there’re more out now, searching for something.”

  Jareth invades my space, but I hold my ground. His face shifts from humor to a serious mask to mirror the current situation. “Red. Don’t worry about it.” He takes my arm in hand. “I took care of Sparky, didn’t I?”

  Unable to keep it inside, a laugh pours forth. “Yeah, good job, too. You took care of the problem real good now, didn’t you?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” I shake his hands from my arms and start walking. “Let’s go. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

  Taking my cue, he paces my steps, staying next to me. The group lineup stays this way for a while. Kodiak between both of us, leaving Sparky to trail behind.

  Under the guise of taking in the sights, I glance over to his face, trying to determine if he’s sincere in his belief he can keep us safe from the robots.

  He’s delusional, but I don’t have much of a choice unless I want to go it alone.

  I’m unable to resist sneaking peeks out of the corner of my eye when he’s not looking, then something hits me. A tall item, wrapped in a towel or some other cloth, sits inside his rucksack, poking out of the top. Guess I was too busy checking out his ass earlier to notice it. Shifting with each step, it bumps inside the bag.

  What’s inside the package? The burning need to ask fights with the irritation of knowing he’ll try to take advantage of my curiosity. It must be something from the house. But what could be so important he’d lug the extra weight in his stuffed backpack for hundreds of miles, and keep it hidden like a secret?

  While I’m debating on whether I should or shouldn’t ask, I step in a pothole and nearly break my neck.

  He grabs the collar of my shirt and saves me from falling on my face. “You know, you’d be less likely to trip if you paid attention to the road instead of what’s on my back.”

  Smug son of a bitch.

  Might as well ask. “So, what is in the package?”

  His mouth forms a Cheshire cat smile. “Don’t you go worrying your cute little head about that.”

  “Stop treating me like a child.” Anger rises. “What’s in there? It’s kind of big to be lugging around with the rest of your stuff.”

  “It’s something I’m willing to trade for. Interested?”

  Yawning, I pull my hair into a ponytail. “Nah, nothing could be that interesting.”

  My inner cheerleader pipes up and considers a negotiation. What if he wants to trade a kiss for it?

  Yeah, and what if he wants to trade a lot more than a kiss? The cheerleader performs a twirl, her short skirt fanning away from her body. I’d be down for that.

  Jesus, you’re as bad as he is. And now he’s making me talk to myself, or at least a version of myself. Great. All aboard for the crazy train.

  I shift my attention to those strong legs moving up and down while we walk. He’s toned, but not bulky—perfect and lean. The idea of running my hands up those tight thighs causes me to sweat. Get a grip, don’t even think about making a trade with him.

  “Oh, I don’t know. You might like it.”

  Yeah, I sure might.

  “Don’t think so.” Now, I’m not sure if he’s talking about what’s in his bag, or what he wants to trade.

  “Thanks, but I’ll have to pass.” A grin twitches at the corners of my lips. “I’d rather stick my hand in a meat grinder than make a trade with you.”

  He grabs his chest in a mockery of pain. “Oh, that cuts, Red. It really does.”

  “Oh, get over yourself, drama queen.” Genuine laughter rises from my stomach and bursts forth. “I’ve seen the real you. You’re not impressing me.”

  “Well, dang. Now you’re just ruining my mojo.”

  Feeling perkier than I have in days, I turn to Sparky. “So, what’d you do all night, helmet-head? Stand outside and lurk, thinking of diabolical ways to kill humans?”

  I shouldn’t try to provoke him—I’ve seen what he can do. But the sight of his eerie, black helmet sends a wave of revulsion through my body.

  They need to pay for what they’ve done to me—what they’ve done to Jareth’s family. My meanness toward the robot is petty, but it makes me feel better. I’m not sure what kind of person this feeling shows me to be, and I don’t care at this point.

  “Are you asking if I stayed outside to keep watch? If so, the answer is yes. If not, explain the meaning of lurking.” His body twists toward me from the waist up, but his legs keep moving forward, undisturbed.

  “Damn it, what the—” I fight a shiver that tries to crawl over and under my skin “—Sparky, don’t ever do that motion again. It’s going to give me fucking nightmares.”

  A soft snort comes from Jareth’s direction.

  “As for killing humans, I do not understand the point of the question. My creator designed me to perform an array of actions that are part of my programming. Since I cannot reconnect, it is unknown if my parameters have changed. I have sworn to protect and help this unit, though, so I will not kill you while we are traveling to my hub. Is this the information you sought?”

  “You’re a piece of work, aren’t you?” I glare at the dark head that’s as empty of emotion as it is of light. “What? That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

  He hesitates for a moment before he responds. “I do not know how it is supposed to make you feel. I do not believe my creators factored feelings into my design because emotions are dangerous and present problems when performing missions.”

  “Yeah, I bet. It’s not easy killing people when you have the nag of guilt hanging over your head.”

  He slows his pace and turns to face me. His entire body turns this time, thank God.

  “Forget it, I don’t care.” I wave him away. “I don’t want to discuss your programming any longer.”

  Taking several steps, I leave him alone on the side of the road praying he won’t follow like a lost puppy.

  Now that he’s mentioned his creators, though, questions form in my head.

  Creators? Do I dare hope I can glean some information?

  This is an opportunity I shouldn’t pass up. I could use the creator comment to s
egue into unexplored territory. An interrogation of sorts.

  A small rock lies on the pavement, and I kick at it. “Who are your creators?”

  “I do not understand the question. Are you asking if I know their names, the type of being they are, their composition, or if I know them on a personal level?”

  I sigh. Why do things always have to be so difficult with this jackass?

  “In general, who are they? Why do they want our planet, preferably without a human population?” Can it be this easy to squeeze answers from him?

  “My colony—my people, come from what humans call the Trappist-1 system, thirty-nine light years away.”

  I close my gaping mouth with a hand.

  “There are two inhabitable planets. Humans call them Trappist-1e and Trappist-1f. We refer to them as Baltin and Henoka in the solar system of my origin.”

  “Your origin?” His word choices spark my interest. “Are they like the planets here?”

  “Planet Baltin is much like Earth in size and climate, with an ample supply of water. Henoka is colder, harsher; frozen but still habitable.” Kneeling, he scoops soil in his hand, and then allows it to slip between his gloved fingers like sand in an hourglass. “The creators favored Baltin.”

  He says favored, and not favors. Not wanting to ask why, for fear of not liking the answer, but unable to resist, my curiosity pushes me forward. “Favored? Do you not live there anymore?”

  The robot stops his forward momentum. His head swivels toward me, and again I’m reminded of pea soup and demonic possession. I imagine all the photons in the air rushing headlong into that murky helmet.

  He stalls a moment, as if to think about the question. “No. We no longer inhabit the planet.”

  “Why not?”

  Kodiak and Jareth continue ahead. He bends toward the dog and whispers something in his ear. My dog dips his head and drops something into Jareth’s hand. My dark-haired companion shakes his paw, then puts the item in his back pocket.