“I’m so glad,” Gwenyth said. A few people laughed nervously, but not too loud. No one wanted to incur the wrath of Tina.
Tina was Atlas’s ex. She’d hated Romy’s genetically enhanced guts for . . . most of their acquaintance, really, and their friendship shouldn’t make sense, but it did. What they shared wasn’t like her other friendships; it was sarcastic and often involved teeth and claws. Romy understood her now, and looked back on their prior interactions with different eyes. Before, Romy was untested and the woman treated her accordingly. Now, she was tested and Tina saw her as an equal. Or something in that vicinity. They had each other’s backs, that was all Romy knew.
“Dr Houston’s new faction, the Renegades—,” Gwenyth started again.
“Stupid ass name,” Tina muttered.
“If you have to name yourself that, you can’t really be a renegade,” Thrym agreed from the other side.
Phobos stood silent, staring at Gwenyth. Elara spoke to him in a hushed voice. Phobos had taken Deimos’s betrayal extra hard, so any mention of the Renegades tended to put him on emotional lockdown. In her heart, Romy wasn’t sure her knotmate believed Deimos betrayed them, which she couldn’t understand.
“—have now taken over the southern part of New America and have based themselves in Florida. They’ve given the northern territories to the Critamal, and have mounted several attacks on cities throughout the world with large, unnecessary loss of urban life, the most recent of which was in New Melbourne. In addition, they are forcefully evacuating the rural settlements and taking these refugees back to their New America bases to swell their ranks.”
The crowd shifted, murmuring in low voices.
“Many of you are from such settlements, and actively sought us out as a haven.” Gwenyth scanned the crowd. “Yesterday, the Renegades took control of the Mandate’s island prison in Madagascar, taking the prisoners back to their base in Florida. I assure you, if you had loved ones in this prison, everything possible will be done to get your friends and family back to the Amach. We are in contact with the Renegades already to negotiate their return.”
A louder buzzing murmur overtook the room.
“Shoot,” cursed Thrym, searching for someone in the crowd.
Romy followed his line of sight and spotted Nancy. The girl was younger than them by several years, around twenty now. Her skin was normally pale, a consequence of her carrot-coloured hair, but it had gone ghostly, making her beautiful violet eyes appear wide and haunted. The young woman had several friends in the Mandate prison, her friends from Jimboomba. Romy hated to think what might happen to Nancy if those friends hadn’t made it. A year and a half after their capture, the woman still wasn’t coping with their absence.
Thrym pushed through the crowd to reach Nancy. Her violet eyes were drawn to him immediately. Romy watched the pair, but backtracked as the violet eyes swung to her, flicking from haunted to beseeching to hatred in a second.
“She still pretending to hate you?” Tina asked above the still-buzzing crowd.
Romy hummed, turning to face the front as Thrym wrapped his arms around Nancy. The pair had been close since Jimboomba; Thrym was there for her after Nancy’s friends were captured by the Mandate, but Romy had never seen him wrap his arms around the Australian woman like that. “Not sure her hate is pretend.”
“It is,” Tina said. “Easier to blame you than herself, remember.”
Romy’s reply was cut off as Gwenyth tapped the mic for attention.
She spoke. “You are here because you want a peaceful future. That is why our force is now as strong as ever. It is why our ranks continue to swell. We are here to protect your families. And the future of your families.” Gwenyth cast a look behind her where Atlas stood, a silent support to his mother.
Not for much longer.
“However, we cannot ignore recent events,” Gwenyth said softly. Her face was long and thin and the lines around her eyes weren’t from laughter. More often than not, Romy expected the older woman to spit out chewed-up metal instead of words. She’d lost her husband, the previous Amach leader, to the Mandate when Atlas was young. In the tumultuous wake of that, she’d stepped into the leadership role, even sacrificing her son to infiltrate the Mandate’s commanding ranks. There was nothing this woman hadn’t given up for the Amach.
“One month ago, I failed you,” she stated. Her grey eyes, so like her son’s, were matter-of-fact. “I allowed a man too much power. I did not listen. I became complacent in our efforts to replace the Mandate.”
The room was still, the occupants caught in her words.
“The Amach has been my life,” she said, blinking a few times. “I have always done my utmost to support the best way forward for our people. That is no different now.” She took a deep breath. “Which is why I’m stepping down.”
“Oh shiiiiit,” Elara whisper-screamed.
The three members of her knot turned to Romy to confirm the truth. She lifted both brows and nodded.
“The high command has voted and my replacement will be someone who has sacrificed more for this cause than most. He is highly qualified for the role and, indeed, has been my advisor since his return from Orbito Four. Please help me in welcoming my son, Atlas, into the position of commander-general.”
“Oh shit,” Elara said, her jaw dropping.
“I don’t know how long this war will last,” Atlas had said to Romy earlier. “If there is a choice between the Amach and you, it will be expected I choose the Amach. It’s so much more than I can ask of you, Rosemary. We’re only just starting to know each other. I can’t ask you to put up with the expectations of this position.”
Time. That was what it came down to. Less time together, and a shifting of priorities. Was it really a shift, though? Was it really less time?
Romy stood, head tilted up as Gwenyth stepped back and Atlas took centre stage. She studied Atlas’s concerns from a different point of view. The man wasn’t afraid of telling her how he felt about their relationship. Atlas wanted her, and he’d made that abundantly clear since saving her from Orbito Four. His confidence in acknowledging that was a massive tick in his favour. Yet, he’d also displayed a deep-set worry over what she thought of him and his work on more than one occasion. He never mentioned what he’d been doing for the day, and he was close-lipped about his time aboard the orbitos as a spy-commander. Romy wondered if he constantly expected her to leave because of his responsibilities. The more she thought about it, the more she came to realise Atlas taking over was the absolute best course of action. He was made for the role, whether he liked it or not.
Her dismay with the change stemmed from him.
The crowd was quiet, watching Atlas. His eyes found Romy in the crowd and she gave him a brilliant smile. He blinked, mouth falling slightly ajar. He thought she wasn’t sticking around? Romy would just need to change his mind. Not wasting any more time, she brought her hands together in applause that would leave her hands smarting. “Wooooo, Atlas!” she yelled.
Tina jerked, holding a hand to the ear closest to Romy. “Christ!”
Romy gave her knot a pointed look, and they hurriedly began to clap.
“Woooo,” Phobos called, half-heartedly.
Their actions cracked the ice, and the Mess broke into applause.
She hadn’t taken her eyes off Atlas who now had his lips pursed, giving her a wry look. Romy pursed her lips back at him. Take that, Commander-general Atlas. . . . That was a mouthful; maybe she’d just call him Cargos. Atlas couldn’t possibly know, but there were going to be some big changes between them in the next few days. She hoped the poor man could handle all the goodness she was going to lay down.
He held up a hand after a minute of the noise. The crowd simmered down.
“My mother’s shoes will be hard to fill, but I aim to do my best,” he started in his low voice.
It reminded her of their nights in his single bed—torture. One, she tossed and turned all night wondering when he was going to come i
n from work. Two, when he did come in, he’d kiss her forehead and neck a few times, climb over her, pull her to him, and go to sleep. Was she the only one tied in knots over sleeping next to him? She’d gone through the puberty stuff, and she may have trouble figuring out exactly how old she was, but in mental and physical maturity she was around twenty-six, according to Char. There was more than kissing, she knew—despite Phobos’s attempts to tell her otherwise.
She wanted to ‘more than kiss’ Atlas.
Atlas faltered over what he was saying, and Romy started when she saw his eyes on her once more. His grey eyes turned from cold to molten in a nanosecond.
Tina sniggered. “Did you eat this morning?”
With a frown, Romy asked. “Yes, why?”
Phobos spoke in her ear. “Atlas isn’t food, that’s why.”
Yikes. She cleared her throat and crossed her hands.
“There will be a few changes within high command,” Atlas continued, with a final intrigued glance at Romy. “But the alterations will be smooth and the transition, painless. Which brings me to my first announcement. I am pleased to tell you our technical team has successfully installed the transmission communication project worldwide. This means we are able to communicate with our other bases and with those out on mission in real time.”
A loud cheer followed his words. That was huge. The Amach had been operating with the Morse code systems for decades. Romy glanced overhead. She hated when everyone clapped and stamped their feet and kind of regretted starting the applause. They were in a cave system, after all.
He held up a hand. “In the next week, a tribunal system will be established, in order to bring your thoughts and questions to the attention of high command. Each level will have a representative, and the voting of your rep will be coordinated by Vice-commander Tina, for interrupting earlier—”
“Bitch.” Tina glared at him. “I hate exes, don’t you?” She turned to Romy for support and scowled at her lack of agreement.
“—I would like to increase all missions. A small, specialised portion of our force will remain focused on garnering information on the movements of the Mandate, the Critamal, and the Renegades.”
Atlas clenched his jaw and Romy knew he was remembering his last interaction with Houston. They’d aimed their guns to kill, and Atlas’s last words to his best friend had been, ‘You’re dead, my friend. Dead’. Romy wasn’t hopeful for a joyful reunion. If she saw Houston again, she’d be putting a bullet in his head, too. Depending how worked up she got. When things got . . . intense, Romy tended to get angry—a leftover symptom from everything she’d been through. Let’s just say one poker game ended in violence.
But it was okay when she won. And she’d won every game since.
Wait a minute. . . . Her eyes narrowed.
“The remainder of our force not allocated to security will be focusing completely on making contact with the settlements. They have no way to get to us; the Mandate has abandoned them to close off the cities and their supplies. These settlements are now prey for the Critamal.” His jaw tightened. “We can help them.” He shook his head and amended, “We’re going to help them.”
Excitement jolted through the Mess and a hopeful fever ricocheted, unchecked, through the long, table-filled space. There was a surge toward Atlas, people clamouring for his attention.
“I’m just gonna go check Nancy is okay,” murmured Phobos. He moved off to where Nancy still stood in Thrym’s arms. Was there something going on there?
Romy allowed herself to be ushered to one side with Elara and Tina, not taking her eyes off the dark head of hair belonging to Atlas as he descended the stairs to join the masses of his people.
In five minutes, he’d shown everyone his promotion was the right choice.
Romy heard somewhere once, or read on her nano, that certain times called for a certain leader; that in times of peace, the people needed one type of leader, and that in times of war, they needed another type entirely.
They were definitely in a war, that much was beyond question.
And now they’d found their leader.
CHAPTER THREE
The bed shifted and woke Romy from a beautiful dream. She and Atlas had been trekking up Machu Picchu with summer heat beating down on them.
She cracked open an eye. “Where’re you going?”
Atlas let out a husky chuckle and crouched down by the bed at her head. He kissed her temple, saying, “To work.”
To work? She let out a jaw-cracking yawn and kicked off the blanket, swinging her legs to the ground.
“What are you doing?” Atlas stood. “You should sleep a little longer. You’ll be going out with one of the teams to a settlement tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow, Atlas. That’s a whole day away. Where am I going for it?”
He gave her a playful grin. “I thought you might like to go to Rome.”
Did she what! “Like Vatican, Rome?”
He pursed his lips. “I’ll need to pull some strings. . . .”
She pushed to her feet, giving him a kiss on the cheek. His eyes dragged over her bare thighs where the oversized T-shirt she wore ended.
“What were we talking about again?” he asked in a low voice.
“You don’t remember?”
“I don’t remember anything when you’re in the room.”
She hovered her lips in front of his. “You seemed to do pretty well during your speech yesterday.”
He didn’t reply. Typical. Oh well, Operation ‘Worm Your Way into Atlas’s Work Life’ was in full swing. She pressed her lips to his, not content with the peck on the cheek. He felt for each side of her hips, drawing her in, and groaned deep in his chest. A higher breathless sound worked its way up her throat. His lips were the most magical feeling on this earth, and his eucalyptus scent made her dizzy. She’d been using his body wash since moving in with him.
After Houston and Deimos tried to kidnap her a month ago, Atlas hadn’t wanted her to be alone. Honestly, neither had she.
Plus, she wanted more of Atlas. Always more.
Romy retreated, evading Atlas as he lunged to pull her back to him. Approaching the single set of drawers—the top two drawers were hers—she took out some fresh underwear and coveralls. “I’m coming to work with you today,” she announced.
“You . . . are?”
Romy wrenched open the door. The showers were just down the hall. She glanced over her shoulder. “Close your mouth, Atlas. It’s not a big deal.”
* * *
Romy spun in the office chair. “You just do this all day?”
A throat cleared. “Uh, commander-general, sir? There’s someone at the door.”
Romy glanced at the assistant in the doorway. Atlas didn’t; he watched her like she was about to explode. He even had his hands slightly raised. One day, she’d laugh at him for being so worried about what she thought of him, but not now when his past still traumatized him so much.
“This is my first day,” Atlas admitted.
His first day commanding an army on Earth. Romy wasn’t sure that this still counted as a first day just because he wasn’t commanding an army in space.
“I’ll gather reports throughout the day,” he mumbled.
“Who does your old role now?”
“I promoted Tina to commander, but she will still go out with your team on mission.”
Romy nodded. “Good choice. She’s perfect for it.”
Atlas rounded the desk, eyeing her. “That’s what I thought. From here, I’ll confer with the commanders of the other Amachs—”
“How many Amachs?”
“Just under four hundred.”
Romy whistled. “That’s a few. You sure you don’t need another assistant? I could do that.”
Atlas paled.
“I’d probably be in here most days,” she shrugged, in internal hysterics at his horrified expression. She shouldn’t tease him, but Romy was sure about one thing. “I’m determined to have a thorough underst
anding of what you do each day.”
If the six-foot-something Atlas had ever looked ready to faint, it was now. Romy pushed down another wave of amusement and glanced down at a map with various red marks on the desk. “Are these the people we’re killing today?”
He paled further.
The assistant choked. “Uh, sorry, sir, but the person at the door—”
Romy glanced at the flustered assistant again.
“I don’t kill unless I need to,” Atlas said, ignoring the man. The look in his eyes was at utter odds with his firm words. Romy uncrossed her legs and stood, placing a hand on his chest. “I know you don’t. Not when the orders are your own. I have utter faith in the decisions you make.”
He sucked in a breath.
“The thing is, sir,” the person tried again, “he says his name is Commander Cronus.”
“What?” Atlas rounded on the man. “Why didn’t you say something?”
The man by the door shifted on the spot. “Sorry, sir.” Atlas dismissed him with a nod and wave.
“Commander Cronus?” she asked, heart thudding. The Orbito One commander. “Here? Is that possible?”
“Apparently,” Atlas said with a grim look. “He’s one person I never thought to see again.” He circled the desk, opened a panel on the right side, and pushed a series of buttons imbedded inside. The screens on the opposite wall lit up. “The question is: Why has he come here?”
Romy faced the screen, her booted feet set in a comfortable stance. The outside camera showed a black-and-white view of the trapdoor exit. Currently, an older man was waiting there. He was military, that much was unmistakeable. Even wearing a floral shirt and carrying a tattered briefcase, he stood with his spine snapped into place.
Her mouth dried. “It is him.” The man who’d commanded Orbito One, and Knot 27. The man who lied to them, who let knot after knot be slaughtered. Red filled her vision.
“Rosemary,” Atlas said, rubbing her arms. “I’m going to let him in, but you should know I have strong suspicions Cronus never knew the Mandate had the weaponry to defeat the Critamal all that time.”
The Reprisal Page 2
