Chapter 18
GEMMA
And she never saw him again.
Just kidding. It only felt that way.
Within days, they were on Val Mori. Gemma seriously debated staying on the Judgment—it had better shielding and would be safer and was more comfortable—but decided that she’d rather stay closer to Zalis.
The haunted mining moon was as unnerving as advertised. Val Mori went through many transformations: a failed colony taken over by a mining company, who later decided the profit margins weren’t cushy enough to justify the risk, and now a Mahdfel base.
The buildings were laid out for a walkable community designed around hubs.
On the surface, they were a bit down in the heels but nothing that made Gemma think she was doomed.
Some paint and a little TLC and her dorm would be cozy.
Then she realized she and Zalis were the only people in that residential block, and Zalis was gone most of the time. She was completely alone.
New people arrived daily. Construction never stopped. The place was always busy yet somehow managed to feel empty.
Establishing a base was the focus, which meant critical systems and infrastructure received all the attention.
Eventually, they’d get around to upgrading the residential buildings with shielding, air filters, and hook it up to the new power grid.
As it was, power was temperamental. The lights flickered and circuits tripped when Gemma tried to reheat some food and download a show to watch at the same time.
Gemma and Emry worked in the community kitchen. Well, Emry worked. Gemma got bossed around a lot to use the stool or get out of Dannel’s kitchen. He was an older guy, more silver in his hair than not, and was not afraid to bark orders. Gemma liked him a lot. He had that classic chef bad attitude.
Apparently, that was what happened to Mahdfel when they got to retirement age—taking support roles, not the bad attitude. They became trainers and instructors for the younger generation, worked in the greenhouse and gardens, or tried to feed a literal battalion.
Kitchen work was hot and exhausting. Her body still insisted on bakery hours, so she was up before dawn and making dough.
When the rest of the people made their way to the cafeteria for breakfast at a reasonable hour, they had freshly made bagels, sourdough bread, or muffins.
Emry worked the grill, making breakfast sandwiches with the sourdough.
She loved it. It reminded her of the fun side of the bakery without all the stress of being the boss.
Being in the kitchen also meant that Gemma got to meet new people.
Before, her ankle kept her isolated, only leaving the cabin to let the doctor grumble at her, or if Emry wanted to do something.
Gemma had basically sat on her butt, watching shows, and that wasn’t her.
She missed people. She liked the chitchat.
She learned that the best friend of Wyn the painter was on the cruise ship that exploded. A rescue crew had been sent out, so fingers crossed. She learned that Vanessa actually used to work for the Val Mori Mining Company and she was less than thrilled to be back.
Thalia actually worked on the same intelligence team as Lorran. When Gemma asked about what Lorran did exactly—the gadgets made her assume James Bond—Thalia skillfully avoided giving any direct answers. So yes, they did James Bond-type shit.
She even met a fretti, which was the size of a medium dog, had the personality of a dog, ranged in color from chocolate brown, tan, reddish brown, orange-red, and a pale red that was definitely pink, and they looked like ferrets. They were just as adorable and fluffy as she hoped.
There were so many babies, including Ramon, the grumpy doctor’s son.
Ramon was a giggling, happy baby with chubby cheeks and dark hair, and surprisingly looked human.
In retrospect, Gemma didn’t know why she was surprised by that.
Mahdfel looked like their mother. Zalis told her that, the pro-alien pamphlets told her that, but she had to see Meridan holding Ramon to believe it.
“Hold him while I eat?” Meridan asked.
Gemma agreed, although her hands-on experience was limited to Clarissa’s baby. She held him awkwardly until he squirmed and tugged at her shirt. After some juggling, he sat happily in her lap and beat the table with spoons like he had a future as a drummer.
“You’ll catch baby fever,” Emry warned, sitting down next to her and the little drummer.
“He’s cute but sticky.”
Meridan chuckled. “I don’t know how he does it. I swear he just had a bath before we came.”
Maybe she’d want a baby one day, just not today.
The most surprising thing she learned was that Emry had a mountain lion.
“Mittens is a cat,” Emry said.
“An Earth cat?”
“Yes, an Earth cat.”
“That’s not a cat. I’ve seen cats. They’re like this big.” Gemma demonstrated with her hands. “That’s a small mountain lion.”
“She’s a caracal hybrid. We’ve got the papers.”
Gemma eyed Mittens, who appeared to be casually napping in her cat bed. Her ears were pulled back, clearly listening. The ears and the size of the cat clearly said wildcat, making Gemma believe she was a hybrid. “Really? A designer breed? I bet that comes with a silly name.”
“Caracat,” Emry admitted, sounding embarrassed.
“Oh my God! That’s obnoxiously cute.”
“Hey, I didn’t come up with the goldendoodle name and Ren adopted her.”
“And named her Mittens?”
“Murder Mittens, actually.”
Gemma clapped her hands in delight. The name fit so perfectly. Mittens did indeed have murder mitts the size of teacup saucers.
Mittens sighed loudly, like Gemma disturbed her nap. She wanted to pet the danger kitty so bad.
“Don’t do it. She doesn’t like people,” Emry warned.
“She likes you.”
“She doesn’t.”
“She follows you everywhere,” Gemma said.
“She doesn’t trust me.”
Gemma narrowed her eyes and pointed an accusing finger. “Emmarae LeBeaux, what did you do to this sweet baby who has never done anything wrong in her life ever?”
“I may… have… stolen Ren’s ship.” Emry’s cheeks darkened with embarrassment.
Gemma was stunned. She was the impulsive fuckup. While they both had a bit of a temper, Emry had been the responsible one. “I’m sure he deserved it.”
Emry hid a yawn with her hand. “Sorry.”
“No. I should head out. Baker hours.” The yawn was infectious.
“Early to bed, early to rise makes a gal tired and sweaty but it also makes the bagels,” Emry said, reciting the twisted maxim they often said in the bakery.
“But it makes the bagels,” Gemma agreed.
Gemma made her way back to her residential block.
The community was laid out in a hub, with communal facilities in the center.
Clusters of mid-rise apartment buildings and private cottages radiated out.
It was a walkable design. The streets were lined with lamp posts that turned on automatically.
Sounds of conversation and music drifted out through open windows.
The center glowed with warmth and light.
The farther she walked, the more the light vanished.
The sky dimmed with the fading twilight.
This part of the community was empty. No sounds of people going about their evening, only apartment buildings waiting to be converted to dorms and cottages with dark windows.
The lamp posts grew farther and farther apart.
Half of them weren’t working. The ones that did only offered a pale, flickering illumination.
The darkness increased between puddles of light.
Metal towers stretched the sky like the grasping fingers of a giant, dark against the twilight sky.
All evidence pointed to her being alone but the crawling sensation of being watched dogged her steps.
“Don’t be silly,” she told herself, and instantly cringed. That was what the first chick to die in a slasher movie always said right before meeting her demise. Hey, don’t be silly. There’s no guy with chainsaws for hands hiding in the old barn. I’ll show you.
It was spooky. She could admit that. The atmosphere, the groans from the massive towers, and the flickering lights: spooky. There was no point in denying that she was spooked out. All that was missing were leaves tumbling down the street, caught in a chilling breeze. Oh, and Chainsaw Hands.
Gemma spun on her heel. She heard a noise. She did.
Nothing.
“I’m fine. I’m fine. There’s no such thing as Chainsaw Hands,” she chanted until her feet started moving again.
Everything’s fine.
The comings and goings on the moon were controlled. The Mahdfel knew exactly who was on Val Mori. She was safe. There was no monster wanting to snatch her. There was no one following her.
The itching sensation on the back of her neck said otherwise.
Coming to the edge of the light, she hesitated. Another step and she’d be in the darkness.
Everything’s fine. She knew it but she didn’t believe it. Every instinct—the ones she ignored before being abducted—screamed for her to run back to Emry’s, back to safety.
She looked over her shoulder. No one. No suspicious shadows.
No ominous fog swirling around her feet, stealing visibility.
It was a clear, warm night. Insects were doing their thing.
The foreign stars overhead twinkled. Everything was fine.
She still hurriedly walked until she reached the next puddle of light.
Finally, their building was in sight. Dashing as fast as she dared on her dodgy ankle, she reached the entrance.
Even as she pressed the palm of her hand to the building’s security pad, the sensation of being watched never left.
ZALIS
Zalis determined that Ren was incompatible with silence.
“That is an interesting choice.”
“Why that tool?”
“The wiring is very orderly.”
“I greatly enjoyed the sourdough bread your mate baked, though it was not as sour as I anticipated.”