“Don’t cry, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Please don’t cry.”

  “I don’t mind these tears,” I admitted, the drops falling from my lashes to splash against his cheek. “I love all of you so much. I needed all of you more than I ever understood. It never occurred to me what my loss might drive all of you to do.” I licked the salty taste of tears from my lips as they streamed down. “How it must have been to miss me as you did. I only ever thought of the work.”

  “Your work is important.”

  “Not as important as all of you,” I argued, and his whole expression gentled as he used his thumbs to swipe away the tears.

  “But the work is important, because you were doing it as much to save us as the world, Valda. You weren’t working for accolades or notoriety. You were risking your life, and your freedom, and at many points your sanity, to make the world better for all of us.”

  “How do you know that?” I frowned.

  “The same way I do, luv,” Hatch said from the doorway where he stood, showered and dressed in fresh clothes. His eyes seemed to glow, and I swept a gaze over him, but the peace I found in touching Oz magnified at Hatch’s arrival. “You made time for us. But your work doubled with each of our arrivals as you tried to take on our burdens as well as your own.”

  “And the only reason you tested that therapy,” Andreas continued for him as he followed Hatch into the kitchen, “was because you knew we would never want you to risk yourself, but you would risk anything to make the world better for us. To fix things for Oz’s need to heal. To help me find my faith. To give Hatch something more to live for than just stealing.”

  “And to push every button I had,” Dirk grumbled. “But you did it for us, and we know that.”

  They all looked like hell, but they also looked beautiful. “Then I suppose I don’t have to explain it.”

  Oz chuckled softly. “We had a long time to discuss it. We all had pieces of the puzzle, but once we compared them…Dirk saw the whole picture.” He reached up to twirl a lock of my hair around his finger. “We do understand. We’re just not willing to risk you again, nor for you to give up everything for us. Your work is a part of you. I respect that.”

  “So do I,” each of the others added.

  “Just as you indulge our needs.” Hatch snagged my coffee and took a sip before he pressed it into my hands and took my abandoned chair. When he held out his arms, Oz passed me over as though it was the thing to do. He stroked my cheek after I’d settled and leaned back into Hatch. One by one, the others came to join us. Dirk brought Hatch a plate while Andreas brought him fresh coffee, and then it was the five of us.

  I closed my eyes. “I don’t want reality to intrude,” I admitted.

  “We have a little longer, querida,” Andreas assured me. “We can just be for now.”

  Lashes lifting, I met his gaze and smiled. “I want longer than now.”

  And that was the simple truth. I wanted all of it. I wanted more. I wanted more than we’d had before I’d tested the therapy. I definitely wanted more than we’d had in the memoriam. I wanted our lives back, so we could see what those lives could be.

  Maybe the world was broken. Maybe recovering the world from the wreckage of the pandemic would take longer than our lives. That didn’t mean we couldn’t have lives.

  Dirk blew out a breath. “You’ve made a decision.”

  I had. “Yes,” I admitted. “I need to know why he wants me and for what. I need to know so we can find a way to make it go away. Then I want our lives back. I have a therapy that can help, I have the answers I’ve been looking for, but now I have new questions.”

  I wanted time.

  I wanted them.

  “Eat,” Hatch murmured, pressing a kiss to my temple. And we will figure it out. I heard the thought as clearly as if he’d whispered it in my ear, and when I twisted to look at him, his eyes gleamed at me.

  Can you hear me?

  He gave me a barely perceptible nod.

  You heard my whole thought process?

  The corners of his mouth quirked. I wasn’t trying to listen, but now…I can feel you in my bones. It’s like you are right there, a whisper in my ear.

  My heart squeezed. The nanites.

  It had to be. Another nod.

  We’ll figure it out, Valda. I promise you, luv. But right now…I want to feel as much a part of you as I can. This isn’t quite being buried in your body, but it’s pretty fucking close.

  An image flashed through my mind of the control room where we’d writhed together and shared pleasure on every level.

  Heat swept through me. Would the same thing happen here?

  We’ll find out.

  It was a promise.

  I licked my lips.

  “Why do I feel like we’re missing something?” Andreas murmured.

  Oz laughed softly, and I dragged my attention from Hatch to glance to the other men I loved. Dirk’s expression was quiet, patient, and indulgent. Oz looked amused and Andreas curious. None of them asked as I settled back against Hatch.

  I don’t know if we can undo this.

  Sometimes, my mind could be a turbulent place.

  I don’t care. I’m right where I want to be.

  If I were honest, which I needed to be, he was right where I wanted him, too.

  Right where I wanted all of them.

  Always a part of me.

  Chapter 14

  “Morality, like art, means drawing a line someplace.” - Oscar Wilde

  The call with Smithson ended abruptly when Hatch pressed the end button on the call. A moment later, the phone was in pieces and the card inside it was destroyed. No one said a word as we sat there digesting the information he’d shared.

  As grudging and resentful as his attitude had been at the beginning of the call—he resented the fact that we’d taken so long to get in touch, not that I cared—he’d been almost genial at the end. Confident that he had me where he wanted me. Certain I couldn’t tell him no. Assured, even.

  I wanted to say he was wrong, but I wrestled with the facts as he’d laid them out.

  “Valda,” Oz said quietly. “He could be lying.”

  “It doesn’t matter if he is telling the truth,” Dirk said. “You’re not doing it.”

  His tone clearly brooked no arguments. The decision had been made. Not that I could fault him. It almost seemed too fantastical to be believed, and yet hadn’t I just spent years inside a system I could barely imagine, much less have participated in the creation of before?

  “The technology exists.” Hatch enunciated each word carefully, but his gaze remained fixed on me, even as the others glared at him. “It dates back to pre-pandemic times when they were still focused on the idea of off-world colonization. Some of the research fell by the wayside, but companies like Blossom Foundry didn’t let it go.”

  “How many others do you think have it or are close?” Andreas asked.

  “Who cares?” Dirk demanded as he pinned his glare from Hatch to Andreas. “She’s not doing it.”

  “No one wants her to do it,” Oz spoke, calm and soothing, but Dirk wasn’t interested in being soothed. I couldn’t fault him for his objections. Hadn’t they all been through enough? “That said, we can’t just dismiss it out of hand. It’s not our decision to make.”

  The chair Dirk had been gripping the back of splintered, and he picked it up with one hand and then flung it across the room, where the wood broke apart against the stone wall. I wrapped my hands around the mug of tea. It was still steaming hot, and it chased the chill from my fingers.

  “Tell me you’re not considering it,” Dirk ordered, and I met his gaze evenly.

  “I won’t lie to you.” Even to make him feel better. “I have to consider it. That said, I don’t know if I believe him. It sounds…”

  “Convenient,” Oz supplied, and he scrubbed a hand over his face.

  Without another word, Dirk stalked out and I let him go. Sometimes, we all needed a moment to breathe. To sort it out. Hatch pressed a kiss to the side of my head. “I’ll check on him.” Then he murmured next to my ear, “I love you.”

  I caught his hand and tilted my head back for a real kiss. One he offered freely. Then with a brief brush of his knuckles against my cheek, he strode out to follow Dirk. Oz pushed back from the table and moved to clean up the debris.

  The information weighed on me. We’d asked why Smithson had been so determined, but the answer had not been at all what I expected.

  Then again, I wasn’t sure what I expected the answer to be. Not…not off-world colonization, long-term cold storage travel, or helping to maintain the passengers’ sanity for the long journey.

  “What are you thinking?” Andreas asked, and I gave him a small smile.

  “What if he isn’t lying? Am I selfishly denying what might be a real opportunity to colonize another world? To save lives?” Before he could answer me, I continued, “But how does he even know it will work? And they’ve never successfully launched a colony off-world, everything is theory and conjecture. Granted, the science is fairly sound, but that doesn’t mean the results will be what he wants them to be.”

  I focused on the tea, like it could possibly hold the answers.

  “What if he isn’t?” Andreas asked, echoing my own thoughts. “He’s not a scientist. Hell, he’s not even an engineer. He’s a corporate hack. He looks after their bottom line. Even if they launch that ship, even if you can hold up the framework and they can plug that many minds in for you to support, there’s no guarantee it even arrives at the destination. But it doesn’t have to for him to win.”

  The jaded view was not one I was used to hearing from Andreas. At my raised eyebrows, he gave a little shrug.

  “You put together a crew of people, passengers willing to pay, others you are willing to ‘donate’ the space to but are just troublemakers you want out of the way. Then you launch them. The world receives ‘hope’ for a better tomorrow. In turn, the Blossom Foundry profits from that hope both in power and prestige, but also by eliminating competition for resources both tangible and intangible. So it doesn’t have to work. It could be what, a century before the ark they want to send out even arrives at its destination. How much longer before any kind of message comes back?”

  Dumping the broken bits into a trash receptacle, Oz sighed. “In other words, it could detonate as it achieves orbit, and as long as no one saw it, he would still be profiting from it.” He moved to stand near the table and folded his arms. We’d not left the kitchen since we’d trailed in, one after the other. Like the bedrooms we’d used—well, I assumed they’d used as well—the kitchen offered no windows.

  Someday, I needed to ask Hatch about this place. We had other issues to tackle for now.

  “What do you want to do?” Oz asked me, his gaze careful and his tone gentle, as if he didn’t want to influence my decision.

  That, or he worried he would already hate whatever choice I made.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “There is very much a part of me that is intrigued. I won’t lie.”

  Who wouldn’t be? The idea that I could support such a mental framework? That I could keep so many others alive? That there was this rare chance to leave behind a troubled world and find a fresh start elsewhere? Who was I to stand in the way of that?

  Then I looked from Andreas to Oz and exhaled slowly. It wouldn’t just be me committing. It would be all of them. No guarantees. No assurances. Just wild, gambler’s luck and fingers crossed.

  My mind might not even survive the journey if I had to immerse myself so deep to protect others. The pressure of the framework with the five of us had been one thing. It had begun affecting them as well, especially Hatch. How would it interact with the others aboard the vessel? Or would it?

  Too many improperly explored scenarios with far too many variables.

  Frankly, the last time I gambled, I’d lost.

  “Valda, making this a possibility is not your responsibility.” The steadiness of faith underscored every single word. “Your mother made a choice, when she locked herself up on that island with your father. Both of your parents did. They made a choice when they created you.”

  Created, not gave birth.

  “They made a choice when they worked to repair your DNA, and when she used you to incubate some of the tests.”

  With each word of Andreas’ revelations, Oz straightened. Outrage filtered through his gaze. He was a doctor. He had to understand the depth of my mother’s choices. Choices I’d accepted and forgiven a long time before.

  “I don’t have to agree with the choices to respect that she felt like she had no other alternative. She didn’t create the virus that in turn led the pandemic. She was in charge of a research team trying to find an antiviral, and they simply couldn’t work fast enough.”

  I licked my lips and sighed. He’d read through the journals. Viewed her diaries. He’d devoured all the information I’d given him access to while I’d been in the immersion tank. His long-standing hatred for Aloria Bashan had faded with what he’d learned, and I wouldn’t say transformed, but it no longer plagued him as it once had.

  My mother had been far from perfect. But she’d done the absolute best she could.

  “She made a choice, Valda. She could have chosen differently, and I doubt anyone could have faulted her for it. The one choice I do fault her for is the burden she placed on you,” he finished. “That said, right or wrong, saving the world isn’t on you.”

  “If it’s not on me, then who is it on?” Because if no one would accept that charge, those who would take advantage would definitely step up. People like Smithson, perhaps, who stood to gain, whether his plans were successful or not.

  Greed drove men as much as power did. Sometimes more.

  “I don’t know,” he said softly. “I will abide by your wishes on this. If you go, then so will I. But I don’t want you to go. More, I don’t want to live another day without you. I had that for five years, Valda. Whatever we do, we do it together.”

  “On that,” Oz said solemnly. “We agree. I left you once,” he added, gaze locked on mine. “I won’t do that again. I won’t let you leave me behind either, so if you think to do this and leave us here to get on with our lives—”

  “I won’t,” I promised before he could even finish the sentence. “I have always valued my work.” Pushing away from the table, I crossed to him. “I have always believed it needed everything, deserved everything I am, because I had to find the answers. But I forgot the most important part of saving lives is valuing the life I have. Valuing all of you. I won’t make this decision alone. We make it together, or it doesn’t happen.”

  He looped an arm around my waist and tugged me to him. Eyes closed, I tucked my head against his chest. Then Andreas surprised me by pressing right up against my back. They cocooned me between them, and I could cheerfully sink into this moment and never emerge.

  “At some point,” Andreas murmured against my hair, “I’ll want to discuss that offer of yours.”

  Offer of mine?

  I frowned, then a flash of insight danced across my mind’s eye. In the memoriam, I’d propositioned them both, and I laughed, more startled than anything. “I thought I so offended you with that offer.”

  “Surprised,” he admitted. “I’m not saying it will ever happen. That hasn’t been our relationship.”

  “Not saying it won’t either,” Oz added. “Because relationships change.”

  “And I believe you have to test a theory to discover whether the conditions are right in order to achieve the desired results…”

  “To test any results, really,” I teased, then leaned my head back against Andreas’ shoulder and gazed up at the pair of them. My heart squeezed like a fist closed around it. “I feel like there are so many things we didn’t have before…”

  “It just means we get to discover it now,” Oz assured me. He traced a finger down my cheek. “But you are still wrestling with this decision, and you have our thoughts.”

  “And Dirk’s.” Because his mind would not change. Under no circumstances did he want me doing this. Could I persuade him? Perhaps, but I would be asking him to go against his very nature, and I had done that enough. “I need to talk to Hatch.”

  “Then go talk to him,” Andreas said against my ear before nudging the hair out of the way to press a kiss behind it. “I’ll catch Oz up on what I learned, since he’s being far too polite to ask, even if the curiosity is eating him alive.”

  I flicked a look up in time to catch the droll look Oz shot Andreas, and I smiled. “No more secrets. If you have questions after…”

  “I’ll ask,” he promised. “Go find Hatch. We can track down Dirk if they aren’t together…”

  I nodded, lingering for a few minutes longer between them, before I headed out of the kitchen. I didn’t know the layout of this old stone castle. The pair could literally be anywhere, but… I concentrated, focusing on Hatch, and everything in my system tugged to the right, so I followed that internal insistence.

  I followed it down the hall, up a flight of stairs, and then along another balustrade that opened out into the damp and misty morning. Fog clung to the ground, and the drizzle left a sheen of moisture on my cheeks. But I continued obeying the unerring sense into the open door of one of the turrets, then up the circular stairs that had me near breathless by the time I reached the top.

  Hatch stood alone in the garret, staring out into the distance. The open air at the top let the mist and the rain in. The dampness seemed to invade everything. I resisted the urge to fold my arms as I crossed to where he stood.

  “You shouldn’t be up here,” he said, his voice soft. “It’s too exposed.”

  “Then why are you up here?” I slid my arms around him and pressed against his back. Warmth flooded me at the contact, and my system settled as a sense of peace soothed the disquiet in my soul.

  “Thinking,” he said, covering my hand on his abdomen with his own and tracing his fingers against my skin. “Dirk wasn’t in the mood to talk.”

 

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