Mated to the Beast of the Wasteland novel Chapter 6

Chapter 6 She Was Cunning and Fake

Tristan Lawson watched the female standing in front of him drag on forever at the counter. Even his usually ample patience had worn thin.
He was about to step forward and speak when she finally finished. She turned, flashed the soldier a bright smile, and left with the elderly woman.
He clamped his mouth shut and stepped up to the counter.
“I need a replacement S-class wrist terminal,” he told the beastman.
“Sorry, Major Lawson, but your rank doesn’t qualify you for an S-class wrist terminal,” the beastman replied after checking the system.
His tone was crisp and businesslike, a stark contrast to the warm, friendly grin he’d just given Gillian.
“I have a direct order from the Commander,” Tristan said smoothly. He slid an authorization form onto the counter.
The beastman checked the document and confirmed it was legitimate.
“My apologies, sir. But the last S-class wrist terminal on this shuttle was just issued moments ago.”
“What do you mean? The system showed one in stock only minutes ago,” Tristan snapped.
Then it hit him. That woman took the last one.
He spun around, but she and her companion were already gone.
“Sir, there are no more S-class wrist terminals aboard. You can submit a new request at the main depot once we reach Wasteland City. Processing usually takes around fifteen days,” the soldier explained, polite but firm.
“Who was that female? Why was she approved for an S-class wrist terminal?” Tristan demanded.
“Her mate’s rank fully qualifies her, sir.”
“What’s his name?”
“I’m sorry, sir. I can’t reveal that information.”
The beastman spoke politely and evenly, his smile calm and professional.
Tristan brushed a hand over his own wrist. Knowing further argument was useless, he snatched back his authorization form and left without another word.
*****
The past two days aboard the shuttle had been dull, but Gillian didn’t mind at all.
Compared to the life she’d lived through in Wasteland City, this was practically paradise.
Gillian said, “Grandma, I’m going to get dinner. We’ll be landing in Wasteland City before midnight.”
“All right, Gillian. I won’t wander off,” Mabel promised.
“I know you’re getting a little bored,” Gillian said softly. “Our application for base housing in Wasteland City got approved. Once we settle in, we can grow things. I bought plenty of seeds for you. You can plant whatever flowers you want.”
Mabel’s tired face lit up at once. “Really? Then I’ll finally have something proper to do!”
A male voice scoffed nearby, “Hmph. Good at sweet-talking an old lady. Wasteland City is exactly what it sounds like—a wasteland. Nothing grows there, let alone flowers.”
The sleep pod across from Gillian hissed open.
A man in a black military uniform stepped out. The dark uniform suited him.
His hair wasn’t the standard short military cut. It was curly and a little longer.
He looked at people with a lazy, evaluating gaze, like a scheming fox.
His gaze fell on the wrist terminal on Gillian’s arm, and he froze.
The plain, unadorned device looked better on her wrist than any expensive bracelet.
Tristan’s face darkened. That was supposed to be my S-class wrist terminal.
Reapplying would take another fifteen days. He couldn’t wait that long. His father would drag him back home long before then.
Gillian didn’t even glance his way.
Who I choose to make happy is none of his business.
I should’ve requested a private cabin.
Is even a 9th Legion shuttle stuck with some idiot?
“Grandma, make sure the pod is sealed,” Gillian said calmly.
She shot Mabel a look that said to ignore strangers.
“Okay. It doesn’t matter if the flowers grow. I’m happy just the same,” Mabel answered. She squeezed Gillian’s hand reassuringly.
Even if it was just to comfort her, it made her happy.
She quickly lay back down, not wanting to cause Gillian any trouble.
She knew her granddaughter was a powerful cleric, but they were on someone else’s territory now. She was afraid Gillian might get hurt.
“I promise you’ll get to grow flowers, Grandma,” Gillian said quietly, but with unshakable firmness.
She closed the pod door neatly and walked away.
So rude. Tristan frowned as he watched her leave.
He called out, “I don’t know why you’re lying to your grandmother, but nothing blooms in Wasteland City.”
Gillian normally avoided trouble. But she wouldn’t back down when someone deliberately provoked her.
“Saying that just proves you’ve never actually been to Wasteland City.”
“And I suppose you have?” Tristan retorted.
He finally gave her a proper once-over.
She had a sleek, shoulder-length bob that gave her a deceptively sweet look.
Soft bangs framed delicate eyebrows, making her seem completely harmless.
Warm, slightly upturned eyes and soft features made her look like she could offer a gentle, coaxing smile at any moment.
But he knew better. He’d seen what she was really like.
She had extorted two hundred million coins from someone over a call on her wrist terminal.
Once she got the money, she coldly threw her old B-class device into the waste processor.
He decided she was cunning and fake. She’d most likely gotten the S-class wrist terminal just to hide her dirty money. And he was going to take it back.
But that wasn’t what bothered him most. What infuriated him was that she was feeding her poor grandmother useless fantasies about gardening in the wasteland.
Land, seeds, clean water—all were precious in Wasteland City. And she was talking about growing flowers?
“I’ve seen flowers bloom in Wasteland City,” Gillian said, her voice suddenly flat and cold.
She had. Bright red flowers bloomed behind walls of beastmen corpses, as far as the eye could see. The memory was so vivid it seared her eyes.
The mocking reply died on Tristan’s tongue.
For a split second, he could’ve sworn he saw that vast sea of red blossoms reflected in her eyes.
Can flowers that beautiful really grow in Wasteland City?
By the time he snapped out of it, Gillian was already gone.
Tristan shoveled his hands into his pockets and let out a scornful huff. “She’s crazy.”
Gillian didn’t care about the overdramatic guy. He’d just stared at her and gone quiet mid-sentence.
Probably had attention issues as a kid. He still looks like an idiot even after I treated him.
She reached the shuttle mess hall and got in line. When she saw the meal included three meat dishes and one vegetable, she hesitated.
Conditions in Wasteland City were harsh. Neither she nor Mabel ate much.
“George,” she said to the beastman serving the food. “The rations are really good today. Could we just get one serving for both of us, but with extra rice?”
She wanted to conserve legion resources wherever she could.
As Gillian walked through the dining area, she watched the other soldiers. They only took exactly what they needed, unwilling to waste such hard-won food.
George Parker was the beastman serving the meals. He had grown familiar with Gillian over the past few days.
And it wasn’t just him. Most people aboard the shuttle had quietly noticed her by now.
It wasn’t only her sweet face and polite manner. She was the only dependent to join the legion in a full year.
George frowned inwardly. Are we really that hopeless? No females will even have us?
The more he thought about it, the more he approved of Gillian.
“Oh, Gillian! Your grandma not with you?” George grinned. “For anyone else, I’d say no. But you? Sure thing.”