Their Memoriam: A Reverse Harem Romance (Utopia Inc Book 1) Page 13

  I hadn’t made it that far when I’d been inventorying. I’d stuck to the laboratory facilities. What he’d said about the timeout, however, held my attention. “I didn’t realize the four of you were talking that much.”

  To be honest, I hadn’t paid attention to what they were doing while I hid.

  As the lift opened to the new level, he led me out into a design very similar to every other one in our biosphere. The only place, which held an element of originality was the garden. If we were going to be here a year, we needed to decorate or something.

  “What did you think we did? Mark some territory, and keep to our corners unless you were there?” Wry tone aside, he made a point with his observation.

  “I guess I just didn’t think about it. It makes sense you would talk…”

  “Since you didn’t observe it, you didn’t think it was happening.” We’d arrived at one hatchway. “No worries, beautiful, we’re good. We’re going to disagree, and we’re going to fight from time to time, but we’re also men. We’ll settle our differences and get back to work.”

  “Point taken,” I conceded. “I’m not terribly good with people, so I apologize if my inquiry was rude.”

  “Babe, not remotely rude and let’s make a deal, you and me. If you have a question, ask the question. If you don’t understand, tell me. Tell any of us, I would guess, but with me, always. I promise to do the same. Now, close your eyes please.”

  I was still absorbing the first part when the latter piece hit me. “What?”

  “Close your eyes,” he repeated patiently.

  Torn between exasperation and curiosity, I closed my eyes.

  “Computer, grant us access,” Hatch said, then guided me inside after the familiar hiss of the door indicated it opened. A chill touched my flesh, but Hatch wrapped his arm around me. “Keep your eyes closed,” he instructed. He guided me several steps before adding, “I want you to sit on the floor slowly, and I have you. You won’t fall.”

  Trusting him, I lowered myself until I encountered amazing softness. It was a pelt of some kind and warm against my hand. Tipping my head, I tried to make some sense of the scents—was that wood? It reminded me of heavy timber sometimes used in old construction. There was a crackling noise, and warmth washed over me. Had we gone into some other garden?

  Hatch released me, and the shift in the air suggested he’d settled in front of me. “All right, open your eyes.”

  Pure astonishment left me speechless. We were sitting on a large, bearskin like rug in front of a very real seeming fireplace. Only a hint of pixilation revealed the screen also present, particularly when warmth radiated from the image. All around us were stacks of wine bottles, all placed in neat order, on large, wooden stands. Sawdust tickled my nose.

  “Surprise,” Hatch said in a low murmur, and I couldn’t quite form words as I met his gaze, then finally noticed the picnic basket, a bottle of wine chilling in a bucket and the spread of cheeses, fruits, and meats.

  “I—I don’t know what to say.” It was magical. What he’d done, I felt like I was in some hidden lodge, and we were warm with the fire and about to enjoy a decadent meal. “How did you do this?”

  “Wine cellar was here. Oz and Andreas kind of went gaga for it, so I assume it’s loaded with some good brands. I went hunting for more of those screens this morning, they’re in every room and if you tinker with them right, you can get them to display just about anything you want. The rug here, that was in a storage facility on level 6. There’s an interesting selection in there, and after we eat, I thought you could go pick out some color for your suite.”

  Wonder twined with delight, and I smiled. “I’d love to, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Then he reached for the wine. “I prefer real liquor, but you’re a lady, and Oz said this would go well with the cheeses I diced.”

  It was the second time he’d mentioned talking things over with the guys. The label was French, but I recognized the Bordeaux. “Then we’ll take his word for it.”

  “Hungry?”

  I hadn’t been, not before he’d come for me and suddenly I was starving. “Very, I hope you brought something for you, too.”

  Accepting the wine, I poured a glass for me. Hatch pulled a small bottle of whisky from his basket. “Always be prepared.”

  “Nice motto.” But it was definitely one I could appreciate. After he poured some of his drink into the second glass, I held up mine toward him. “To wonderful discoveries.”

  “I’ll drink to that.”

  So would I.

  Chapter 10

  Birds sing after a storm. Why shouldn't people feel as free to delight in whatever sunlight remains to them? - Rose Kennedy

  Day Fifteen

  After our lovely dinner, Hatch indulged me in a “shopping” expedition to storage. It was the most ridiculous moment of frivolity, and I hadn’t laughed that hard in a long time. But even better, Hatch helped me carry my treasures back to my suite. When the other guys caught on to what we were doing, they joined in—and the guys insisted I take the bright red sofa. It was like a splash of blood against the stark white of the room. Once I added another colorful blanket, pillows, a couple of landscape paintings, and a floral vase—the room shed its frosty image and became warm.

  I finished my yoga surrounded by splashes of color. For the first time since I emerged from the lifepod, morning felt…normal. The suite looked more like an apartment, and the relief from the unrelenting white couldn’t be overstated. Today, I planned to spend in the lab. Thankfully none of the guys asked me to volunteer for time in the gardens—what I knew about farming wouldn’t fill a basic essay. My interest had always been in people, biology, and occasionally pets if something was wrong with one.

  One thing I’d learned—the guys typically ate breakfast together every morning. They might not share another meal, but breakfast? Yes. They worked out together, as well. Maybe avoiding everyone wasn’t the most socially responsible or I would likely have already known. Then again…

  The door chimed, and the computer stated, “Andreas Kenton requesting entry.”

  Unusual, I was still on my first cup of coffee and dressed in a tank top and yoga pants. The soft cotton accommodated my stretching, and the temperature in my suite was warmer than most of our common rooms. Shouldn’t they still be eating? “Enter.”

  The door slid open with its customary hiss. A few more days here and I’d probably not notice it anymore. We were all adapting to our circumstances. “Good morning,” Andreas said as he strolled in. He wore a loose white button down and a pair of slacks. His shoes, however, were basic rope sandals. The dark fall of his hair was rumpled, as though he’d only managed to run his fingers through it rather than a comb. Thankfully, he’d trimmed his beard.

  “Good morning. Is something wrong?” Though, if there were a medical emergency, the computer would have alerted me.

  Pausing for a beat, he raised his eyebrows. “No,” he said slowly. “Why would you assume something was wrong?”

  “It’s early,” I pointed out before taking a seat on my sofa and curling my bare feet beneath me. “I don’t usually see any of you until after I’ve left my suite.” Another reason it made sense to spend my morning here. I needed the alone time, though I had gone into biosphere level a few times to do my stretching in what felt like natural sunlight. “Normally I don’t see you until lunch…if then.” Unlike Hatch and Oz, I saw less of Andreas and Dirk.

  Though I was at fault with Dirk. If I got him alone, I might be tempted to ask him how he knew me and why he followed my orders. I might be a coward, but with everything else going on, I wanted to remember before I had to hear from him what my involvement was…the longer I waited, the easier it was to wait.

  “True, you don’t come to breakfast. I assume that’s because you prefer the mornings to yourself. We’re all aware of how much time you spend on your research. Do you mind if I help myself to some coffee?”

  I’d chosen the French
press for today, so there was plenty. “Not at all.” Awkward didn’t quite cover the sensation to having Andreas in my suite. Curling my toes against the fabric, I used the movement to reground myself.

  “Thanks.” After pouring his coffee, Andreas chose the chair across from the sofa. He dressed in a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of slacks. His hair had lengthened more of the last two weeks and his cheeks were stubbled more often than not. He didn’t bother with shaving daily as Oz did or even every other day as Hatch seemed, too. Dirk’s beard was neat and clipped. “You’re wondering why I’m here.”

  “The thought crossed my mind.” My morning yoga had given me the sense of peace I required to start the day, and that serenity was more than enough to deal with Andreas. Of all the guys, he was the one who had the most negative reaction regarding my presence.

  “One of my jobs is to assess the mental states of everyone present. I’ve interviewed everyone, except you.”

  Surprise filtered through me. “Even Dirk?” From what I’d witnessed, Dirk wasn’t a fan of Andreas nor the other way around. Course, it was a bit harsh and judgmental on my part.

  “Yep, even the big guy. He was the first one, if you need to know, and he cooperated fine.” Was that a hint?

  Lifting my mug, I saved my response until I finished another swallow of coffee. “Do you expect me to argue the soft science aspect of your task? Or the clear conflict of interest based on your earlier disagreeable attitude where my mother is concerned? Perhaps to conflate the two together, and highlight the negatives outweigh the positives in any discussion we might have where you need to measure my emotional temperature.” With every sentence, I seemed to strike him. The last leaving his expression twisted into a particular grimace.

  “In fairness, I deserved every piece of the diatribe. I admit, I overreacted when I learned about who your mother was. As our resident expert, I can only diagnose the kneejerk action as transference. Waking up here was disconcerting to say the least, and your mother’s name elicits tremors of fear related directly to the pandemic whether she was involved or not.”

  Well, it seemed we’d both made some progress. He was willing to concede my mother might not have caused the deaths of millions. Cheers. Another long swallow of coffee and I’d nearly finished my mug. “Thank you for that, at least.”

  “You’re welcome. I doubt my apology would mean much to either of us, so please accept that I will keep an open mind in all future discussions. I can compartmentalize, particularly in this stressful situation.”

  “If I accept you at your word, who serves as the barometer for your state of mind? You have already taken dangerous risks with your health which in turn could have compromised the rest of us.” To my knowledge, he was the only one who’d acted so foolishly. I’d focused on my research and trying to disentangle the curiosity of my DNA among other issues. Dirk had been working on the garden and doing mapping of the facility—he’d been discussing it with Hatch when I’d entered the communal kitchens. They’d also changed the subject the moment I arrived. Not that I was tracking the conversational shifts. Oz stayed busy in the infirmary and studying our medical files and…likely doing his own research.

  “Fair question,” Andreas said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees while he studied me. “The guys and I have had a few informal sessions together, they let me vent, and offer their opinions—Oz in particular—and have helped me get my unreasonable anger under control. Of the five of us here, you two are the only ones with medical training, and he’s the only medical specialist.”

  A strange sensation tightened in my tummy. I knew the four of them had been talking, but the absolute exclusion from these sessions of theirs stung. Or it did until logic reasserted itself… I’ve been avoiding them. Maybe it was time to stop being a recluse, no matter how unsettling the idea. I enjoyed the time with Oz, didn’t I? And Hatch? “I’m sorry if you find my reluctance at all insulting,” I said, choosing my words with care. “I’ve never been fond of speaking to psychologists or having anyone analyze my thought processes or why I do what I do.”

  “Most people aren’t comfortable with the concept, at least not a first. We’re all coached from a very young age to not focus on self—literally. We refer to it as selfishness and categorize it as a negative attribute. The pathos is that considering self above others in any fashion is barely a level below true narcissism.” Mouth twisting in a wry smile, he shook his head. “Let me put it this way, extreme selfishness—narcissism—is a mental illness. While extreme charity may indicate maladaptive behavior or dependent tendencies, we don’t usually categorize it as a negative. So why then does self-care seem to reflect badly in our own minds?”

  Laughter bubbled out of me. “That’s absurd. People don’t look at self-care as a negative—they see it as a weakness. Selfishness on the other hand, suggests you care more about yourself than you do other people.”

  “So you’re never selfish?” Challenge filled his eyes as he raised his brows.

  Sobering, I shrugged. “I would argue I am always selfish.” It was how I survived. “No one else will take care of me, and I avoid most people when I can. I prefer the work.”

  “Just the work? Or your control over it?” The elemental way he grasped the subject and held onto it impressed me.

  “Do the two have to truly be distinguishable? I live in a world where science is treated as anathema. It’s held accountable for every bad thing ever—and scientists themselves are the agents of evil.”

  “You resent it.” It wasn’t a question.

  Taking a deep, cleansing breath and then releasing it, I eyed the man across from me. I would need another cup of coffee to continue this discussion. “Don’t you?”

  “Sometimes,” he agreed, much to my surprise. “Other times, I recognize it for the necessary challenge it is.”

  “Necessary?” I hadn’t meant to scoff, but really, science had enough flaws from trying to come up with the right testing methods to replicating DNA shifts, and RNA infusions. “I find it appalling the world has fallen so far down the darkened rabbit hole of ignorance, where they would prefer to let people die of easily treated maladies than rely on science because a global pandemic which couldn’t be avoided cost lives. They do realize avoiding science won’t avoid another pandemic?”

  “Fear doesn’t have to be rational. Demanding a rational response to an emotionally charged issue is equally irrational.”

  I definitely needed more coffee for this conversation. Rising, I went to refill my cup. “You can define it how you wish, but the people who did survive the pandemic, survived thanks to medical—scientific—intervention. Without it, we may have lost more of the population. Consider the Spanish Flu of the early 20th century. It killed three to five percent of the population of the world.” How ignorant did someone have to be to believe eliminating all research was a good thing?

  “I believe I touched a nerve.” Amusement edged his words, and I fought the urge to glare at him over my shoulder. Instead, I took the time to prepare my coffee. When I didn’t respond, Andreas continued, “Valda, you are entitled to your feelings.”

  “Thank you for your permission.” Tart or not, I pivoted, mug in hand and stared at my uninvited guest. “I neither need nor require your approval.”

  His earlier smile returned. “Good, because I don’t plan to offer it. Ultimately, the only person who can tell us if our feelings are justified are ourselves. What concerns me, however, is the amount of anger you continue to bottle.”

  “What makes you think I’m bottling my anger?” It took an enormous amount of presumption on his part to make that leap. “More, why are you here, Andreas? Did you draw a short straw? Or do you really think we need a man who rushes into danger without a thought to mitigate our emotional interactions?” So far, I’d done pretty well. An image of Hatch leaning in to kiss me, and the way Oz offered me food and held my hand…

  Extending his index finger, Andreas said, “You don’t respond well to p
resumed criticism.” After adding a second finger, he continued, “You avoid interactions unless given no choice, then you tend to establish your dominance immediately.”

  Aggravatingly accurate.

  With a third finger added to the first two, he said, “You go on the offensive the moment you perceive an attack, and you turn the tables. While you cannot control all aspects of a situation, you strive to put your mark on it—even the most out of control ones such as this biosphere. Your memory loss combined with a crew complement you barely know has you retreating to regroup regularly.”

  I could almost taste my dislike for him with the coffee as I sank back onto the sofa. So much for my morning calm I’d earned with my yoga. “And you’re handling it so much better than the rest of us?” No, I wouldn’t worry about reacting exactly as he’d described. Who the hell was he to judge me?

  “Not at all,” he admitted, and the bastard’s smile didn’t diminish. “I reacted badly from the moment I realized who you were, to venturing out to explore on my own. I respond to isolation and loss of control with poor decision making—hence nearly poisoning myself to death.”

  The genuine note of acceptance in his voice splashed cold water on the fury simmering in my belly. Lowering the mug, I searched for a proper response, but came up empty.

  “Now you’re acting instead of reacting,” Andreas said, his smile gentle again. “Let’s finish the coffee and take a walk. There’s a lot of beauty in the gardens, and I want to show you some of the work we’ve been doing.”

  They’d been doing work? I really needed to stop shuttering myself away. Did he think a walk would make this encounter more palatable? Yet, I rose and took another drink of my coffee and paced across the room to the kitchen, then pivoted to face him. “What’s the point of the walk? Just to walk or to get me to speak?”

  “I’m not going to force you to do anything,” he told me patiently, apparently having risen as I walked to the kitchen. “Whether you like me or not, you don’t trust me. That’s my fault. Let me work on that with you. The walk is only a walk, and as I said to show you some things.”