One side of the prisoner’s mouth quirked, but it might have been her imagination because he gave her a stony stare. “Colm O’Riordan.”
The commander cleared his throat.
“Ma’am,” the prisoner amended with a drawl.
Heat crept up her neck, but she ignored the blush threatening to suffuse her face. Turning back to the commander, she offered her hand.
His grip was strong, the look he gave her doubtful. “Good luck to you, Mary.”
Not a professional salutation, but no one had said her first name, all on its own, for a very long time.
She gave him a warm smile. “Thanks for everything. We’ll be fine here.”
A duffle was tossed from the transport by one of the guards. The bag was small. Likely only a couple changes of clothing for the prisoner. She jerked her chin toward it, knowing she was still being observed by the crew. “Bring it,” she said, making her tone curt. She turned, walking toward the cabin, wondering if the lock on her new mate’s door could actually hold him.
Colm followed the small woman inside the cabin. Everywhere he looked was gray. Bare concrete walls, fiber-composite cabinets. No curtains on the windows, just cheap solar-glass that turned a milky color when the sun hit it directly. Utilitarian. Ugly.
Ugly, everywhere he looked. Except the woman.
She was a surprise. Small and slender, she didn’t look capable of driving a combine, much less handling a man as large as himself. But for the chip she wore around her neck, he could overcome her inside a single heartbeat. And yet, she hadn’t hesitated to accept him.
Her clothing was the pioneer uniform – heavy denim trousers, a form-fitting, long-sleeved shirt, insulated to retain body heat or to wick away moisture if the air grew warm. Her small feet were encased inside clunky work boots. And yet she was lovely. And likely didn’t know it.
She wore no make-up. Her bluntly cut hair – held up with a single band at the back of her head – was a pretty brown with strands of blonde and red setting it afire. Her eyes, when she’d stared up at him, had been a soft green, like springtime blades of grass. Something he’d seen in domed parks back home. Vivid and fresh, those eyes. And so unaware.
The perfect product of the Company’s long assimilation program. Despite her slight stature, she’d survived the grueling testing and come to this place. But why? As pretty as she was, she needn’t struggle for her survival. She’d have made some Company scion a fine mistress. Or some gladiator a concubine.
He’d have taken her on, for a full month’s use, just to see whether he could make that blush she’d betrayed deepen.
His loins stirred and he sighed, knowing he was concentrating on the puzzle she presented because it was better than sinking into a black hole of despair. This would be his life until he died.
In another time and place, he might have enjoyed the adventure: traveling years to reach this desolate planet, testing his mettle against the elements for his own satisfaction, overcoming obstacles that arose from living on another world. However, he’d left behind a mess. One he was fated never to repair.
Everyone he knew and cared for left behind forever. Lost.
“Your room’s in here,” the woman said, her soft gaze lingering on him. She likely wondered if he was a halfwit, he’d stood there so long, staring at nothing. “Drop your bag beside the bed. You can put away your things later. We have work to do.”
Colm said nothing, but stepped past her, making sure to brush an arm against her, just to see how she reacted.
Her quick, indrawn breath and startled gaze told him a lot. She was every bit as aware of him as he was of her. Satisfaction warmed him. Here was something he could work with. Perhaps he could convince her to toss away the chip. And soon. The memory of the sharp pains it invoked, seeming to tap every single nerve with fire and agonizing cramping, was enough to nauseate him.
A prisoner now, and for the rest of his life, he determined in that moment that he wouldn’t be seen as one by at least one person on this wretched planet.
He dropped his bag beside the narrow cot. As stark as any prison cell, at least the room had a window, although the hardware surrounding it told him there would be no escape. Not that he had anywhere to go if he did manage to slip away.
However, just the thought of walking freely in the out of doors, of swimming in the stream he’d seen that perfectly divided fields of wheat from oats, was enough to keep him thinking about breaking out.
“We work until the sun sets,” she said, her voice oddly gruff. The sweet note it had held when she’d spoken with the commander was gone. But then, by the way the other man had eyed her up and down and had given her unsolicited advice, perhaps they knew each other.
The thought bothered him more than he wanted to admit. He was already feeling possessive of his new jailor.
“Tell me what needs to be done,” he said, dropping his voice to infer he was ready to do more than labor in the wheat fields. “I’m here to help.”
Her cheeks pinkened and she turned away, bending to pick up a pack and then striding toward the door.
“Let’s just make sure water’s making it to the plantings. We’ll walk the fields.”
And walk they did. Colm was amazed at the size of the tract she’d been handed. On Earth, land this rich, this verdant, was so rare only the very wealthiest could afford it. And yet here, as far as he could see, stretched yellow-and-green fields filled with fragile bio-gold.
He and his new mistress carried all-service tools slung over their shoulders, which changed with a click from a shovel to a pick, depending on the need. At midday, she unearthed crusty protein wafers and bottles of fresh water from the bottom of her pack.
He grimaced at the stale taste of the wafers, but did have to admit the food satisfied his growling belly.
Then back to work they went, with the woman walking between neat rows to inspect plants for wilt or disease, although every grain brought to Mars had been specially engineered to suit the soil and climate.
“That’s odd,” she whispered, bending closer to one wheat stalk. She tipped it with her finger and drew away with a small insect.
Peering over her shoulder, he noted the frown bisecting her brow. “A ladybug?”
“This insect’s not scheduled for release. It shouldn’t be here.”
Colm shrugged. “Perhaps it stowed away with the seeds when they were shipped.”
Still staring at the tiny round bug, she shook her head. “Makes me wonder what else we might have. I’ll have to report the sighting.” She tucked the insect into her pants pocket.
“Do you really think the Company can control every element of this world?”
“They have to try,” she said softly. “There’s a fine balance here, between all elements of the environment.”
“Is there no room in these plans for surprises? For a natural progression?”
Her head canted as she studied his face. “You’re an odd man, Colm. Everyone knows the dangers imminent when anything is given free will.”
Colm breathed deeply, pulling his gaze from her curious one. He knew she wondered about him, where his loyalties lay.
Phobos rose large on the horizon. She glanced toward it, shielding her eyes as the sun peeked around the edges of the asteroid. “That’s the last orbit for the day. We should head back before night falls.”
Colm’s body tightened. His own indoctrination had included training to please his new master.