The cottage was a quick walk up a narrow footpath up the hillside. In theory, walking through the energy barrier into the domed village cleaned the armored suit of radiation, but the suit went through an additional decontamination cycle. The cycle took several hours, which meant Thalia could only leave the dome once a day.
Inside the dome, Havik insisted that she wear a wide-brimmed hat to block the sun. Still in the fluttery, stars-in-her-eyes stage of their relationship, she found his overprotectiveness cute. At some distant point, it might wear on her nerves, but she enjoyed having him take care of her.
Yeah, that was what the cynical side of her warned, but Thalia suspected that she would never tire of being doted on. She soaked up his care and attention like the parched earth after a rainstorm.
For breakfast, Havik served a traditional Rolusdrean staple of a surprisingly spicy bean soup served with spongy bread. He sliced up a bitter green fruit she didn’t care for. Her experience with the local cuisine had been a success, other than Havik insisting on eating that bitter fruit with every meal. That, and the fermented yeasty paste he slathered on the bread. Ugh. She was all for new experiences and exploring food, but that stuff smelled rank. It was just as well that he limited his shipboard diet to instant noodles. She didn’t relish that sour yeast smell circulating through the ship.
“I don’t know why you lived off those instant noodles on the ship. You’re a good cook.”
“I am not. This is an easy meal to prepare.” He waved to the open soup carton on the counter.
“You don’t harvest heirloom, organic ingredients every morning at dawn? Gasp. I am shocked. Shook, even,” she said in a dry tone. A meal made for her by someone else, even just heating something right out of the package, was a meal made—or reheated, as the case may be—with love and therefore the best. “So, tell me about this mysterious appointment?”
“If you were eating instead of talking, you’d know by now.”
The big red tease. Still, Thalia slurped down her breakfast soup and shoved the bread in her mouth. “Ready.”
Despite being under a dome, the village had a quaint feel with narrow, twisty streets. Plaster walls were painted a riot of colors, everything from a soft white that glowed in the sun, to vivid blues, purples, and enchanting greens. No color seemed off-limits and it charmed Thalia to her core.
With no weather inside the dome, tables and chairs spilled onto the street. People seemed to live outside on patios, balconies, and gardens. Narrow alleys opened into unexpected courtyards, cluttered with greenery and benches.
They meandered through the market square, stopping to purchase fritters studded with bits of fruit. The scent of fried fritters and fat positively enchanted her, but that wasn’t a surprise. Everything about this trip felt enchanted. Thalia knew they existed in a bubble, a rare moment when the real-world responsibilities did not matter. At least not yet.
She worried about what life would be like when they joined the Judgment. Or, in her case, returned to the battlecruiser. Would they look at her with scorn for jumping into a relationship with Havik? Would they hate her because she was human?
No. She had been on the Judgment. They rescued her pod and had treated her with nothing but kindness.
The grumpy doctor crossed her mind.
Okay, most everyone treated her with kindness. The nurse was human and very patient as Thalia worked through her confusion and panic. Plenty of women, some human and some alien, had roles on the ship. The atmosphere had been positive. Thalia might not know much, but she knew to listen to her gut, and she knew when people were bad news. If Paax’s clan had secrets, they were well guarded. She believed the Judgment to be a good place.
And because her mind was always working on contingency plans—hello, how else does a street kid survive on their own?—she wondered what she would do once they got to the Judgment. Reading books all day and watching movies was all right for a holiday, but part of her was already growing bored. She wanted to be useful. How to be useful, unfortunately, proved harder to discern.
Thalia pushed those thoughts out of her mind. They had no place in the honeymoon bubble.
Havik led her into a section of town they had never ventured into before. The buildings appeared worn and less cared for. Paint had faded under the relentless sun. They passed a rough archway, the stones looking far more ancient than the surrounding buildings.
“Is that an entrance to the tunnels?” she asked.
They watched the super long documentary on the history of Rolusdreus. Initially, she did it to humor Havik, but she found herself sucked into the story. The planet essentially had a civil war and nearly nuked themselves out of existence. Generations lived underground in tunnels and bunkers, all the while tweaking their genes to adapt to the new environment topside.
The tunnels saw use again during the Suhlik Invasion. Just when the planet finally got its act together and started to repair the self-inflicted damage, it got the snot beat out of it by the Suhlik. Somehow knowing that Earth was not alone in being self-destructive lifted her spirits. These aliens were as fucked up as humanity.
“Indeed, but I do not recommend a casual visit. The tunnels are in ill repair and unsafe.”
“Have you explored them?”
“Certainly, as a child. It was educational.”
She rolled her eyes. The safety standard for her was super low while his was set sky-high.
They entered a shop. Art decorated the walls. Behind the counter looked, for lack of a better word, like a tattoo parlor.
A male sporting sleeves of ink greeted them. Yup, totally a tattoo parlor. Escorted back to a booth, Thalia perched on a stool while Havik unbuttoned his shirt. He wore a loose-fitting tunic made from a soft navy-blue fabric. It draped loosely across the front and buttoned at the shoulder.
