Trent Montoya swung his axe with a single, easy movement, striking and splitting the last root in his allotment for the day. As much as he missed the cerebral exploits of his past, he had to admit this felt damned good. Physical labor. Honest. Productive. No treadmills or free weights to strengthen his heart and tone his muscles. This was real. Solid. Natural.
Too bad it was also slave labor.
At this point in the late afternoon, he usually assisted one of his comrades. Not because they needed it, since the allotments were perfectly tailored to their abilities, but to give them a boost. Show them they weren’t alone. That they had some control, however meager, over their own fates. Maybe even a hint of leisure time, laughable though it might seem.
But when he scanned the group of workers, he noted three humans approaching from a distance. Two Blutes and an Earth female. A relatively young one. Attractive. Doped up, of course, but clearly pretty.
Dropping his axe, he strode over to the trio.
“Another one for you, Montoya,” the elder Blute told him cheerfully.
Another one…
Trent studied the young woman intently. Maybe twenty-five years old. Even prettier up close. Red hair, excellent build. Disoriented but with a glimmer of intelligence that would serve her well. Or at least, he hoped it would.
“Hello, miss,” he said warmly. “Do you know who I am?”
Unsurprisingly, she knew exactly who he was despite her drugged state. “You’re Trent Montoya. Alexia knew you were still alive. She promised you’d take care of me.”
“Did she?” He winced at the thought of his baby sister and her endless, hopeless quest. “Where was this? At some rally?”
“At the Trading Post. On the platform.”
“What?” He stepped closer. “Are you saying Lexie went through the sinkhole? God damn it.”
“She’s looking for you,” the girl explained with a dopey smile.
“Yes, I know.” He grasped her by the shoulders to steady her. “What’s your name?”
“Jamie.”
“How do you feel?”
“Wonderful,” she admitted, her glassy eyes shining.
“They’ve given you some powerful drugs, Jamie. And they’ve been studying you for almost two weeks. Do you remember any of that?”
Her smile faded. “Studying me?”
“Nothing invasive,” he assured her. “And now you’re with us, so that’s good. But when you sober up, you’ll be terrified. So you need to prepare yourself for that.”
“But you’ll be there with me?”
He heard the Blutes chuckle and gave them a furious glare. Then he told Jamie, “Yes, I’ll be with you. But just for the first night. After that, you’ll have your own quarters.”
“I’m a bio-girl,” she said with a silly smile. “So you can have me every night if you want.”
“That’s not how it works here, Jamie.” He stopped himself from admitting the truth—that he wouldn’t mind having her to himself for longer. But again, that wasn’t how it worked.
Motioning for his first lieutenant, a man named Abel, to approach, he said, “Put her in my hut. Let her sleep it off. I’ll be there soon.”
Abel’s voice was husky. “She’s a bio-girl?”
“She’s a laborer. Like everyone else. So just take her to my place for now.”
The lieutenant complied, taking Jamie gently by the arm and guiding her toward the living quarters. The bio-girl looked longingly over her shoulder at Trent, and he knew what she was thinking. That he could take care of her. Protect her. Save her with his famous brain and powerful name.
If only that were true.
He turned back to the Blutes, addressing the elder again. “I want to examine the capsule.”
“Votall says you may do so tomorrow. But it was the same as always. No new technology.” He smiled smugly. “Without you they make no advances.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Trent told him with a shrug. But he knew the effing blue humanoid was right. Alexia was the only real advocate for research into the disappearances. Otherwise the losses, while regrettable, had become a cost of doing business, while Sea-Mont and Crosse Enterprises focused completely on the challenge of turning raw blutanium into new supplies of bio-metal.
And if Trent hadn’t been abducted through the sinkhole, he would have made the exact same mistake, so he didn’t dare judge those scientists. Just mourned their lack of vision. Of perception. Of genius.
Except for Lexie…
As much as he appreciated her efforts, he lamented the waste. She was young and beautiful and should be producing new Montoyas. Roberto’s grandchildren. Trent’s nieces and nephews. Someone to solve this problem. Bring Trent and the others home. Decimate the accursed Blutes.
There had been a time when he had imagined a union of TJ Seaton and Alexia. Surely their offspring could have done it all—created new bio-metal, rescued the sinkhole victims, maybe even activated the Titans. Now the thought was bittersweet, given rumors Trent had heard over the years. If Alexia had actually been tricked into selling part of her interest in Sea-Mont to the Seatons, and if they had actually had Trent declared dead...
Still, wasn’t TJ the only game in town for Alexia’s happiness? So hopefully he would grovel one day soon, convincing her to marry him. If so, Trent hoped the news travelled to him through the sinkhole.
The pretty bio-girl came stumbling back, her smile gorgeous, her body even better. “Dr. Montoya?”
He caught her by the waist, steadying her. “Call me Trent.”
She stared wistfully into his eyes. “Why did the sinkhole choose me?”
He was silent for a moment. And for good reason. He never knew how to answer this. How to give comfort without false hope. How to help these people maintain their sanity despite the odds. To feel empowered despite the futility of their situation.
“It didn’t choose you,”’ he said finally. “It’s completely random.”
“Oh, thank God.”
He nodded, his expression solemn even though he hadn’t told the poor kid the truth. Or at least, not exactly.