What the hell was going on?
Poor Gideon. She’d only known him from the communiqués they’d exchanged but he’d given her hope when she’d had none. Hope of a new life, with him. His messages had been full of charm and good humor, and now he was dead. She’d been widowed and re-married and no one had even bothered to tell her. It couldn’t possibly be legal. Her head swam and an all-too-familiar sort of anger filled her, futile and bitter. Stupid of her to get her hopes up.
“What happened?” she yelled over the wind. “How did he die?”
Her husband shot her a dark look over his shoulder. “Accident.”
Lightning cracked in the distance and dust clouds masked the setting sun. Everything was gray, alien and forbidding. Barren stone peaks sat above the gleaming surface of a frozen lake in the distance. Nothing moved. She couldn’t see a single sign of life, just more rocks and ice. It was awful, her new home. Similar to how she’d imagine hell, only frozen over and glacially cold.
Behind her the ship powered up, preparing to leave. The instinct to turn and run almost overpowered her. Bang her fists against the hull, demanding entrance. Her fingers curled tight and her eyes heated. She blinked back tears, both for Gideon and herself. But a pity party wouldn’t help anything. She could do this. They’d given her no other choice.
Beneath her feet, the ground began to vibrate. The escalating drone of the engines drowned out the shrieking wind. Warning lights flashed, casting eerie shadows. She shielded her face with her hands as dust flew. Probably wise of them, leaving her ’til last. One look at her new husband, let alone the landscape, and she might have refused to disembark. The shuttle would return to the long-range hauler waiting in orbit, ready to begin the nearly three-month-long return journey to Earth without her. Panic squeezed her tight.
Gradually the shuttle lifted higher and higher and the heat at her back faded until she stood once more frozen inside her long, puffy thermal coat. There’d be no escaping now.
“We need to hurry,” he said, trudging toward a waiting transport with his face hunched into the collar of his coat. The transport’s hatch stood open, the cool white glow of the interior lighting the hazardous ground. It sat up high on tank treads suitable for the rocky terrain. Her husband’s long legs made the step up into the vehicle look easy. “It’s about to rain.”
He was right. Dark clouds opened overhead and spat fat wads of sludge and ice. Not quite rain but not exactly snow. Drops stung her scalp and ice slid down the side of her face, the final insult. She hated the place. Fucking hated it. And things were only going to get more unpleasant.
“Come on.” Her husband shoved a hand at her with filthy fingers half curled, beckoning impatiently. The rank odor rising from his body set her belly to twisting anew. Con used to smell the same after one of his benders, near the end. Then he’d start yelling. Her stomach lurched at the memory.
Louise grabbed the railing fixed to the side of the door and hauled herself onto the platform. The man grunted and stepped aside.
It was only a small transport, purely utilitarian. There were a couple of seats and some space for equipment. It had none of the comforts of home and no corners to hide in. She slid into a seat and sat ramrod straight, eyes glued to the growing darkness outside. Her husband said something to the driver and the hatch slid closed. The vehicle rumbled forward, bumping her about in the seat. His gaze bored into the side of her skull.
“If you’re going to puke, there’s bags in the back of the seat,” he said nonchalantly.
“Thanks.”
The man sniffed and propped himself in the opposite corner, arms crossed over his chest. She watched his shadowy reflection in the window. Her husband? It didn’t even sound right inside her head. Weren’t there supposed to be vows and an exchange of rings? A contract alone didn’t quite seem to cover it anymore. It had all made some sort of mad sense back on Earth, but not now.
Adam shoved his fingers through his hair, gave it a vicious tug and turned away. She could relate. But this wasn’t so bad. Being dead was bad. Being tortured was worse.
No, this would work. She could do this.
This wasn’t going to work.
Adam Elliot strode down the corridor, ignoring the well-wishers along with the curious—anything new excited the colony natives. His new wife pursued him, taking two steps to his one, trying to keep up with the impossible pace.
Being shut up in a two-room domicile with this woman did not appeal. Not for the night and sure as shit not for life. Not even for the chance to play with her silky-looking, short brown hair. Certainly not to find out what waited below her big coat. Whatever waited could keep on waiting because when she looked down her nose at him as if he had dragged her to the ass-end of the universe for the sole pleasure of fucking her over? Nuh. Not happening.