The Retreat (The After Trilogy Book 1) (13 page)

“And what is PMS?” Elara asked.

Atlas chuckled behind her. Romy twisted in her seat, but his half-smirk had her facing forwards in a hurry. Why was her face getting hot? She’d never been embarrassed about her body in her life.

“Period Mood Swings, my star.”

Romy watched in shock as Elara’s eyes welled with tears. Phobos draped an arm around her and rubbed her back in circles.

Thrym kneaded his eyes. “This explains a few things.”

Romy followed his gaze down to his lap and threw herself back into the chair when she realised what she’d done.

“Yep, explains the weird dream,” Phobos muttered.

Elara wailed something unintelligible between sobs, her face blotchy and tear-streaked.

“At least you won’t get periods,” Houston added. “I’ve implanted a device in your arm to prevent pregnancy. It’s illegal to have children without a permit on Earth. But it won’t stop the real good stuff—the snapping, the crankiness, the crying.”

Romy frowned at him.
Is
that supposed to be good news?
She rubbed two fingers over the small lump in her arm Houston inserted yesterday.

“Space friends,” Houston called over Elara’s sobs. “Welcome to puberty at twenty-four years old!”

“T
hat’s enough,” Atlas commanded.

Elara's wailing quieted to an occasional sniffle.

Houston bowed and nodded at Atlas as he took the doctor’s position.

Houston practically ran from the room. For some reason, Romy couldn’t look him in the eye. But she didn’t want to look at Thrym or the others, either. The puberty talk had weirded her out.

“I’ll bet it’s an involuntary thing,” Phobos mused into the silence. “A male will be attracted to a female, no matter what.”

She glanced up at Atlas and saw he was watching her. He broke off first this time, and answered Phobos, “We all have a certain type we prefer.”

Thrym tensed beside her.

“There are more important things to discuss,” Atlas said sternly.

Romy shook off her last bit of humiliation and refocused her attention on more important matters.

“I have spoken to my superior. Houston has given you the agreed alibi. Your knot is here on research. You are to stick to this for the entirety of your stay or face the consequences. Don’t be fooled by the peaceful atmosphere here. Neighbour turns on neighbour at the drop of a hat.”

No memory. Death.
He didn’t need to explain the consequences.

Romy raised her hand. Atlas nodded his permission. “The thing is, we don’t understand why we’ve been lied to. We don’t understand the reasons behind anything you’ve told us.”

Atlas’s jaw ticked. But he assessed her and gave a long sigh. “I will tell you what I can. But you need to accept that there are reasons I can’t tell you everything. Very good reasons.”

“Will you tell us one day?” she asked.

He didn’t answer—not her actual question, anyway. “The Earth was changing at a rapid rate and the population was dwindling just as fast. Trillions of dollars were poured into technology to ensure humankind's survival. You have been told that when the Critamal were first spotted, all environmental research halted and all resources were then poured into nanotech. This wasn’t true. By the time the Critamal arrived and began their siege, climate stabilisation had reached the final stages of testing.”

Atlas stood in a relaxed pose, wide shoulders drawn back and hands hanging loosely at his sides.

Romy’s mouth went dry. “Then why did they send us up?”

“The threat to Earth was doubled. The world faced attack from the inside, and attack from the outside. Earth couldn’t abandon global cooling, but the threat from the Critamal was just as severe. After lengthy debate it was decided that there was too much risk in allowing the Critamal to reach Earth. It was a fragile time for the planet. The destruction of the climate stabilisers could have destroyed the balance we had only just achieved.”

Elara interrupted. “But Earth had its own military. Its own astronauts!”

“The world was still in anarchy at this point; many countries no longer had communication in place. The military were occupied in calming the civilians across the globe and it was decided they could not be spared,” Atlas said. “Make no mistake: global warming
did
happen. And only 10 per cent of the world’s population survived.”

Thrym’s voice shook. “How many perished?”

Atlas’s grey eyes clouded. “Just under 9.9 billion people.”

She couldn’t even visualise that number.
So many.
Of course, it was better than what they’d always been told—that all Earth humans were destroyed.

“But why continue to lie about it?” Romy asked. This was the part that made her want to follow Elara’s example and give in to tears. The betrayal.

Atlas ran a hand through his hair. It reminded Romy of their time in the bush. It seemed so long ago, though it was merely days before. “That’s not such a simple answer,” he started.

Romy waited for him to go on.

He saw she wasn’t going to let it slide and a shadow of laughter softened his face. It faded as he replied, “Have you never started a lie which you then wished to take back?” he asked.

Romy folded her arms. Was he making excuses for his own deceit?

His expression hardened. “The Mandate has deceived the world for so long that even if the opportunity arose to come clean, I doubt they would take it. Humankind was near extinction. They needed hope. And that hope came from the Heroes in the Sky. The soldiers of the orbitos. Your unknown ‘sacrifice’ is a continual reminder that Earth cannot be taken for granted. It is used to keep humankind focused. Humans are not content to remain in peace for long. Your presence in space is a queen on a political chessboard. The key to controlling Earth’s population.”

“They should have at least told
us
!” Elara accused, getting to her feet.

Atlas didn’t move; he simply studied her. He didn’t look at her the way Houston did. Atlas looked at Elara the way Romy had seen him looking at the poisonous milky myrtle plant—with distaste. It shouldn’t have made her so happy.

“And with Earth dangling right in front of your eyes every day, would you have been content to stay in space? To protect a planet and people you’d never met?” he asked. “Playing the martyr could get old after a few years.”

“You sound like you’re justifying their lies,” Thrym noted.

“I
understand
it,” Atlas stressed. For the first time he appeared tense. “It doesn’t mean I agree with it.”

Something bothered Romy.

“Well, someone has to be up there,” she said. “If we abandon our post, the Critamal will invade Earth.”

“You know our technology has made large advancements.” Atlas shook his head. “The Earth is completely carbon-neutral now. And has been for 157 years.”

Excitement fluttered under Romy’s sternum, despite the debris Atlas continued to dump on them. "Incredible," she murmured.

“What’s your point?” Thrym asked.

Atlas stood and met the eyes of Knot 27. “I am trying to tell you that the technology to destroy the Critamal has been around for over a century.”

Romy had done many space walks in her time, usually for maintenance. The silence in space was always eerie and daunting. . . .

And yet it did not compare to the silence of that moment.

She choked on the horrible words. “The war could have been over a
century
ago?”

Thousands aboard the orbitos had been lost in the war efforts over the last century and a half. Blown apart one second and callously replaced the next by the fresh cadets the orbitos had on tap. Each of them gave up living a full life, constantly putting their life on the line and submitting to the disgusting tanks at thirty-five. They accepted this out of necessity, persevering through each life cycle because it was the only way to earn the right to live on Earth again.

Except it wasn’t a necessity at all.

The war was a farce—a cruel and twisted hoax used to strengthen this ‘Mandate’s’ political position. Acid filled Romy’s mouth as her stomach roiled. Her orbito comrades blown apart,
disintegrated
in Earth’s atmosphere. All for what?

She looked around the group. Elara, Phobos, and Thrym’s faces all reflected what she felt: like a fist had punched her in the stomach. Tears slid down her cheeks, but she wasn’t ashamed. This was worthy of mourning. And anger. Definitely, anger.

Such a waste.

Atlas spoke softly. “You can imagine how much your presence in space must be worth to the Mandate leaders. They spend billions of dollars keeping you all where you are.”

“But surely we are not the first to crash here,” Thrym wondered aloud.

“No,” Atlas agreed. “But no other knot has survived intact before. There are usually only one or two survivors. And . . . when they see their knot’s remains. . . .”

“Orbito Four?” Phobos asked.

Atlas’s face tightened, and he gave a curt nod.

Romy buried her face into Thrym’s chest, feeling his arms wrap around her. She hoped it would drown out the terrible things Atlas was saying. It didn’t mute his voice at all—and she just wished he would stop talking. Everything that came out of his mouth was raw and horrible.

“You cannot return to the orbitos. The High Command will hand you straight to their superiors. Understand this: You cannot leave and you cannot tell anyone the truth.”

“But why?” Phobos exploded. “If the people knew the truth, the leaders could be overthrown.”

Atlas's face turned to stone. “The Mandate has the technology to eradicate a warship seven hundred kilometres from Earth.” His voice cut the air. It was the first time Romy had heard Atlas raise his voice. “They have the technology to
create
human life. Use your brains, boy. What do you think happens when Earth finds out?”

“They eradicate all human life and start again?” Elara whispered, staring at her knees.

The blood drained from Romy’s face. Atlas didn’t confirm or deny her friend’s hushed words.

Thrym pushed to his feet, stepping towards the taller man. “And how do
you
know all of this? Tell us who you are. And who you work for. You might have already reported us to the Mandate. Why should we trust you? Why are you helping us?”

Careful, Thrym
, she silently warned. They couldn’t risk raising Atlas’s suspicions if they truly intended to escape.

“I am attempting to cover your tracks,” Atlas replied. His dark eyes were shuttered. “And I will either succeed, or fail. Whether you trust me is of no consequence. As for why I’m helping. . .” His eyes flickered. “. . . I have my reasons.”

This wasn’t the man who had shown her the sunrise on the beach, or who tossed her into the water.

One by one, the faces of the four knot members hardened.

Atlas must have read it in their faces. His expression contorted very slightly before his next stilted words. “If the orbitos collect you and you know too much. . . .” He stopped abruptly and clamped his lips shut, raking a hand through his dark hair. ”If you value your lives, you’ll do as I’ve said.”

The brief explanation didn’t appease Phobos in the slightest. “You make it sound like the Mandate could find us at any second.”

Romy frowned. It did sound that way, like Atlas himself wasn’t sure if he could help the knot. And what was the guarantee that Atlas was even helping in the first place? Only his words and the fact that he saved Deimos. He could be doing anything, telling anyone, and Knot 27 would have no idea.

He ignored Phobos’s question. “You will keep your heads down and you will keep your mouths shut. That is the only way to survive now.”

* * *

A
tlas allowed them the rest of the day to become acquainted with the settlement. A tiny, fierce woman named Tina gave the knot a brief tour.

Romy’s initial impression of the rectangular space cleared in the midst of the bush was correct. Rows of neat bungalows were situated in the middle, large sheds down one end—where she’d woken up, and the three large buildings down the other end—where they’d learned of the betrayal. And now she knew what the three official buildings were for. One was the Hull—an area where the Earth humans congregated to eat. The knot ate lunch in there and people stared so much they vowed to eat in their bungalow afterward and never return.

Another of the buildings, the middle one, contained the tiny hospital space where Deimos lay unconscious and where their nanos had been updated, as well as the meeting room from yesterday. It also contained four offices where Atlas, Houston, and Tina worked from. Romy got the impression that Tina ran the whole settlement. And clearly, Houston was the resident doctor. Romy didn’t know who the fourth room was for, but she could surmise that only the important personnel of the camp got offices. Which begged the question of what exactly Atlas did. The question hovered on the tip of her tongue during Tina’s tour. But Atlas’s words echoed in her mind:
Don’t trust anyone.
And honestly, Tina scared her a little bit.

“What’s that screen for? Elara asked. She tilted her head at the hologram projection Romy watched the day before.

“Think of it as the Mandate’s noticeboard,” Tina replied. “It’s a way for them to broadcast their announcements.”

It seemed more like propaganda to Romy.

The last of the official buildings appeared utilitarian in comparison to the other two, though larger than the bungalows by ten times. Romy would have dismissed it, if not for the fact that only soldiers were scanning themselves in and out, and Tina seemed eager to move on from it, snapping that it was for “storage and supplies”.

Romy didn’t know if the village had a name, or even exactly where they were in Queensland, Australia. Tina wasn’t forthcoming about this either.

Somehow Atlas had neglected to tell them the most basic information of all. Or maybe it was entirely on purpose.

“As soon as Dei is better, we need to leave,” Thrym whispered in Romy’s ear.

Romy turned to find his face right in front of hers. She knew the Mandate could find them here at any moment, but there was another undercurrent to Thrym’s tone. “You think we’re in immediate danger?” she asked.