Reckless Rescue (34 page)

M
ARLEE LOOKED UP FROM THE
preserves she and Jaimma were sorting through as Tyris came into the kitchen, followed by Beren. “The roof’s done,” he said, wiping his hands on a rag and giving Marlee the first real smile she’d seen from him in the last two weeks. “We can sleep here tonight.”

Marlee’s stomach warmed at the words. Tonight they would finally be alone. Perhaps they’d have a chance to talk now, away from the others. Or perhaps they would have no time for words. That thought warmed her as well. She turned away, busying herself with putting the last of the edible preserves on the shelf.

“Thanks for your help, Beren. I couldn’t have done it without you.” Tyris shook his hand. “And you too, Jaimma, for helping Marlee.”

“It was nothing.” Jaimma waved her hand dismissively. She motioned to Beren. “We’d better get home and let you get settled in. Nothing like having a place of your own again.” She winked at Marlee.

“Why don’t you both stay for dinner?” Tyris invited.

Marlee glanced away. She was glad he was getting along with her friends, but couldn’t he have invited them to stay on a different night?

She silently scolded herself. There would be plenty of time for them to be alone later. She smiled at Jaimma and Beren. “Yes, do stay.”

Jaimma sent Beren home to bring some extra supplies, and they worked side by side, preparing soup for dinner. Jaimma cut the vegetables, stopping often to absently rub her barely swelling belly, sending tendrils of longing through Marlee.

She’d put off even thinking about what the council’s refusal meant for them. But now the house was finished, they would have more time to themselves. Had Tyris given up on getting off the planet? Her heart went cold, thinking of being stuck here, being subject to the council’s rules. She and Tyris had twelve months left. One year. Even if Tyris removed the chip that prevented him having a child, could she get pregnant in that time? Could she ever?

The thought put a damper on her high spirits.

When Beren returned, he and Tyris sat by the fire. “You must have been a teenager when the meteors hit Semala, right?” Tyris asked. “What was it like?”

“I was only ten,” Beren said. “I hated it. All the adults were upset, and we spent all our time hiding. The only time they went out was to grab anything that they thought we might need here. They wouldn
’
t even let me go with them, because in many cases, it meant stealing. My parents spent a lot of time yelling at me to be quiet.”

Tyris nodded. “Must not have made much sense to a kid.”

“Yeah, everyone was very stressed out. Looking back, I can see why. It was hard to prepare for every eventuality, to think of everything we might need. It’s not like we could go back for extra supplies. And on top of all that, they were furious about the governor leaving without warning anyone.” Beren’s voice held the far off note of someone reliving past memories.

“I’ve wondered about that,” Tyris said. “Why did the Colonies leave people behind?”

Marlee knew the answer to that one. “They only had one ship. And it wasn’t big enough to fit even a tenth of the population on it.”

“Why not send more ships?”

“We didn’t have anysogen power,” Beren said. “By the time the governor’s ship returned to Urslat and sent another ship, everyone on Semala would have been dead for months. I guess they thought there was no point.”

Tyris shook his head. “They should have kept more ships in port, or at least told everyone what was happening. They must have been worried about riots and people rushing the ship before it left.”

Beren shrugged. “I guess. But they could have at least sent out a message about the meteor’s impact, even if it was after they left.”

Tyris’s eyes narrowed. “You said you were in hiding though, and making plans to leave. Obviously someone knew it was coming.”

Beren shrugged. “Nerris did. I don’t know how. No one told me that kind of thing. And no one will talk about it now.”

“They must have been furious. They must still be,” Tyris said slowly. “I imagine they’d find it hard to forgive the governor and the Colonies for leaving them like that. Especially when they never came back.”

Of course. That was it! This was what Tyris had been searching for—the reason why Nerris and the others didn’t want to leave this planet. Or more accurately, why they didn’t want to return to the Colonies. She knew this story. Why hadn’t she realised?

Beren laughed. “That’s an understatement. I remember all the adults sitting around ranting about it night after night, on the trip here, and for a few years after that.”

“The governor didn’t have a lot of choice,” Tyris said quietly. “Even if they told everyone, what could anyone have done? Perhaps they thought it would be better for them not to know?”

“They could have used their ship to bring everyone here while they waited for another ship to arrive from the Colonies,” Beren pointed out. “Maybe they couldn’t have saved everyone, but perhaps they could have avoided splitting up families.”

“Splitting up families? What do you mean?” Tyris asked.

Marlee’s hand on the knife paused before it hit the carrot she was cutting. She hadn’t heard this before.

“A couple of days before the ship left, people started disappearing,” Beren said, his voice eerie in the sudden silence in the room. “Scientists, researchers. Someone even came for Nerris, but he was already in hiding.”

A shiver went up Marlee’s spine.

“Why was Nerris hiding? Why wasn’t he waiting with his bags packed?” Tyris asked.

“Because he didn’t want to leave his family behind. They came in at night, and took the person they were after at gunpoint. Their families were left behind.”

“They had orders to save the research, and not enough room to fit everyone.” Horror touched Tyris’s voice, echoing the feeling in Marlee’s heart.

To be pulled away from those you loved, knowing they would die in the meteor impact…how awful.

The silence in the room was strained now.

Marlee took a deep breath and began to cut the carrots again. “So Jaimma, have you and Beren come up with any names for the baby yet?” She forced her voice to be cheerful, and Jaimma took her cue from her and began listing the names they were considering.

What would this mean for Tyris? He finally had the answer he’d been looking for—the reason why the council didn’t want to leave the planet. What would he do with it?

*****

A
FTER
J
AIMMA AND
B
EREN WENT
home, Marlee snuggled up to Tyris, feeling unsettled. She’d been looking forward to this moment for months, and now it was spoilt by the horror of Beren’s revelations.

Tyris lay on his back, staring at the roof, then turned his head towards her and smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, Marlee. I’m not very good company tonight.”

Marlee hugged him. “Are you thinking about what Beren said earlier?”

He returned her hug absently. “Yeah. Nerris and the council’s reluctance to leave the planet makes far more sense now. They feel like the governor and Colonies betrayed them. I can see why they’re angry.”

Beren’s revelations had been a surprise to her too. Even her earliest memories were long after people had settled in and accepted life here on Zerris. Though she
’
d always been fascinated by what had happened before they arrived, no one had ever been willing to discuss it with her. “I can’t believe the governor did that to them!”

Tyris stared quietly at the ceiling again. “It couldn’t have been an easy decision. He had a colony of people and research to save. His decision would have been based not only on his own personal beliefs but also on the orders he received from the Colonies when he took office. I guess he made the best decision he could at the time even if everyone didn’t agree with him.”

Marlee sat up in bed. “You think he did the right thing? Taking people away from their families? Leaving some to die and saving others?” How could Tyris think that? It didn’t seem like him at all.

He put a hand on her arm, and she shook it off. “No, I don’t agree with it,” Tyris said, “Of course leaving people there to die was wrong. But what else could he have done? No matter what he did, people were going to die. We don
’
t know why he made the decision he did, but he may have had a very good reason for it.”

Marlee didn’t want to admit that what he said made sense. The subject was too emotional for her. “He shouldn
’
t have split up families.” She’d lived without a father. She knew it wasn’t good.

“And yet, the council does it here, every eighteen months,” Tyris said gently. “That’s no more right, yet you accept it because it is the way it is done. This is the way things are done on Urslat. The government decides on things, and people follow the rules. They don’t feel any more able to question the Colonies than you feel you can question the council. Even the governor probably didn’t feel he could question orders from his superiors.”

Marlee opened her mouth to deny it then shut it again. Tyris was right. The council might not be leaving people to die, and they might let those who had children stay together, but that only made it a little better. And Tyris’s acceptance of the way things were done on his planet was no different to her acceptance of the way things were done here.

“What’re you going to do?” She lay down and snuggled up against Tyris again. It was too cold to be out from under the blankets for long.

“Talk to Nerris again, I guess. But in private this time, not at the hall.”

“Do you think it will make any difference?” Much as she wanted to get off Zerris and away from the council’s rules, it was beginning to seem like a distant dream, the kind where no matter how far you ran, you never caught up to what you were chasing.

Would things be any better on Urslat anyway? There were rules there too, one of which was that Tyris couldn’t have children. Could she accept that?

“I don’t know, but I have to try. I can’t just give up.” He rose on one elbow and looked down at her. This time, all his attention was on her, not a million light years away. “I want to show you Urslat, Marlee. I want to take you to libraries, to the museums, to the ocean. There’s so much I want to share with you.” His voice was etched with longing, but not just a longing to see his home. He wanted to share it. With her. She reached out her hands to pull him down, but he wasn’t finished yet.

“Urslat may not be perfect, but there’s no risk of starving there, no snowfall so heavy you’re stuck in your home for days on end. Things are so much easier. If you’re hungry, you go to the shop and buy food. Hell, you can buy it already cooked if you want to. Same with clothes, or, well, anything. You don’t have to walk if you need to get somewhere, you get into a car. And when you’re tired at the end of a long day, you just turn on the taps and have a shower.”

It sounded almost too good to be true. “But what do you do all day, if everything is done for you?”

Tyris laughed. “Whatever you want. Go out to dinner with your friends, watch a movie, or stay home with a video or some music.” He bent, and his lips brushed hers. “Or stay in bed all day…”

“I like the sound of that.” Her voice was breathless.

“So do I.” His hands slid down her body.

Her body tingled everywhere he touched it. She should stop and talk, not succumb to the desire coursing through her. Every month they waited to try for a baby meant one less month they had. But she could tell Tyris wasn’t ready yet. He still had hopes and dreams of leaving Zerris and returning home to Urslat.

Would he ever be ready? Or would he always be looking for another way? Another idea that might get him home?

*****

“Y
OU MAKE A SMALL HOLE
at the base of the stake.” Marlee poked a stick in the ground and wriggled it around a little to enlarge the hole. “Then you scoop out the plant and put it in, then cover it with dirt a little bit up the stem. When they grow taller, we’ll tie them to the stake.”

Tyris tried to pay attention to what she was saying. He’d never planted anything before, and he had no idea how to do it. But his attention wandered, and he couldn’t help glancing up the rows to where Nerris knelt, chatting to Jaimma in the next row.

He needed to find a chance to talk to him alone. Would there be one during the planting this morning? Probably not. Half the village was out in the field planting. There wasn’t much privacy. Either way, he needed to know how to plant the seedlings. He bit back a sigh and turned his attention back to Marlee.

“Now you try,” she said.

Tyris copied her to make a hole. That was easy. Then he scooped out a tomato plant, holding his breath. The tiny plant seemed so fragile, he was sure he was going to break them. But he managed to get it successfully into the hole and planted to Marlee’s satisfaction.

He let out the breath he’d been holding, and Marlee laughed. “See, that wasn’t so hard,” she teased.

“I’m sure it’s not. Until I break one.”

Marlee put a hand on his arm. “And you probably will. It happens to all of us. You just go on and plant the next one.”

Tyris nodded. Logically, it made sense. Wooden trays of the tiny plants were stacked in the greenhouse, waiting to be eased into their new homes. It was only logical that some wouldn’t make it. He still felt awkward and clumsy beside people who’d been doing this since they were children.

Marlee settled down beside him, focused on getting the plants in her tray into the soil. She had a rhythm, following each step as though it were ingrained. Tyris sat on the opposite side of the row and copied her. Before long, she moved ahead of him, then she went to get a new tray, and he was left alone.

The rows stretched long, and the planted area seemed much smaller than the rest of the field. Tyris tried to lose himself in the process, but he couldn’t help glancing down the rows to where Nerris knelt.

There were too many people around. Tyris sighed. How was he ever going to manage to talk to Nerris privately?

Then, he had a lucky break. As he patted the dirt around the last tomato plant in his tray and stood up to walk back to the greenhouse to get another one, Nerris rose and stretched, then headed in the same direction.