Blue Guardian

by S. J. Madill

  The air had a cold bite to it, and the ground had a different, sharper crunch underfoot. A night frost, perhaps. According to her data, it was early in the year for a frost. Nearing the shuttle, Zura opened her mouth and exhaled, watching her breath form wisps of vapour in the air. Seeing her breath at this temperature was new to her; a consequence of raising her body temperature.

  As Zura stepped into the circle of the brightly-lit landing pad, the shuttle's engines sped up, their gentle whine increasing in pitch.

  Pelaa, Irasa, and Nathal were at the bottom of the ramp, waiting for her. "Mahasa," said Pelaa, bowing.

  Zura marched up the ramp into the white-lit shuttle interior. "La," she said to Pelaa as she passed him. "Take us up to the Kahala Hila."

  The shuttle pitched forward, rising off the ground. Zura sat in her usual seat, while the soldiers took their places across from her. She leaned back against the headrest, her helmet on her lap.

  * * *

  Captain Upara cleared her throat. "Mahasa?"

  Zura looked up from her datasheet. She'd been leaning against the back wall of the Kahala Hila's control room. Upara stood in front of her, with the crew stations and the windows beyond. The stars streaked by on all sides, stretched into bright lines.

  "Yes, Captain?"

  The Kahala Hila's commander gave a deferential nod. "We're about to arrive at the Corana system, Mahasa."

  "Good."

  Zura let go one hand from the datasheet. It smoothly rolled itself up, and she slid it into a sleeve on her upper arm.

  The ship's engines faded to a whisper, as if the vessel itself was exhaling. The stars outside the window snapped back to single points, and a white-and-blue swirled planet leapt into view.

  "Arrival at Corana," said the navigator. The holographic display in the centre of the room came to life: a glowing sphere erupted out of the floor, resolving into an image of the planet below. Boxes of data appeared in the air around the image of the planet.

  "Vessel detected on the surface," said one of the crew.

  "Show us," commanded Upara, stepping closer to the glowing holographic sphere. Zura stayed where she was, leaning against the wall.

  The round outlines of craters marked the locations of weapon impacts; the serrated rows of trenches, like giant furrows in a field, showed where the Horlan vessels had stopped to gather the planet's biomass. A human term — a euphemism — to hide the reality: plants, and animals, and people, harvested like they were crops, fuel for the Horlan and their living ships.

  A cluster of neatly-arranged holographic buildings marked the ruins of a village. In its centre stood an ancient temple, the landed human ship in an open space next to it.

  Upara looked at the holographic vessel, then toward one of the crew. "Human? 'Nebula' class?"

  "Yes, Captain," said the crewmember. "Identity transponder is not active."

  Zura raised an eyebrow. It was a larger vessel; certainly larger than was typically used by treasure hunters. The thieves and vandals who plundered Palani grave worlds tended to prefer smaller, more nimble vessels. Something that gave them a chance to get in and get out quickly, perhaps even evade a Palani patrol if need be. A fat freighter wouldn't have a chance of getting away from the Kahala Hila. "Engines?" she asked.

  "Engines shut down, Mahasa," said the crewmember.

  Zura kept looking at the glowing display in the middle of the room, as if hoping more information would volunteer itself. Whoever they were, they were making no attempt to get away. Their engines might be disabled. Or, she thought, it could be a trap. "Life forms?"

  "Inside the temple, Mahasa," said the crewmember. "Multiple life forms. We are unable to get a specific number—"

  "Understood." Older buildings — using the earlier composite materials — tended to obscure sensor readings. Whoever the thieves were, they were inside the Palani temple. Their ship was nearby, and they were making no attempt to leave. Zura harrumphed.

  "Mahasa?" asked Upara.

  "They want to be caught," she replied. She stood up from the wall. "We will oblige them."

  "Yes, Mahasa."

  Zura headed for the door at the back of the control room. "If that vessel tries to take off without my permission, stop it. Otherwise, wait for my instructions."

  "Yes, Mahasa."

  The control room door slid shut behind Zura as she marched down the gleaming white corridor toward the shuttle bay. Whatever this was about, it was something new, and she was silently grateful for it.

  * * *

  The shuttle descended down through the planet's atmosphere. Brilliant sunlight poured in through the windows across from Zura, silhouetting the members of Pelaa's team. The shuttle dipped lower, and she could see the curve of the planet come into view: a ball of white and blue, covered by sparse clouds. Broad expanses of white lay below.

  Zura squinted as the sunlight angled up into her eyes, and looked back down at her datasheet. The first shuttle had already landed, and its team of soldiers had taken the trespassers by surprise. Outside the temple building, they had captured the ship and its pilot. Inside the temple, thirty-two humans were being held at gunpoint, all without resistance or casualties. They were now awaiting her arrival. "So much for a trap," she muttered.

  Across the aisle, Nathal and Antur looked up at her. "Mahasa?"

  She held up the datasheet. "All intruders captured without incident."

  "Understood," said Antur. "Thank you, Mahasa."

  Zura slipped the rolled datasheet into the sleeve on her arm. There was a time when she would've been disappointed by the result, robbed of the opportunity for action. But that was centuries ago. Now, it seemed less like an adventure, and more like a procedure. Long ago, her first squad leader had said something that only made sense much later: the first dead body a soldier sees, the first person they kill, is difficult. After that, each one gets a little easier, and makes the soldier a little less alive. If the Divines existed, they knew how easy it was for her now.

  The light coming in the windows shifted again, the rays of sunlight tilting downward onto the shuttle floor. Billowing clouds of white, thrown up by the shuttle's engines, swirled outside as the shuttle touched down.

  Pelaa and his team were already on their feet, jamming their helmets on their heads and taking their carbines off their backs. Pelaa and Irasa went down the descending ramp, while Nathal and Antur turned to Zura, waiting to follow her lead. Carrying her helmet in her hand, she walked down the ramp and off the shuttle.

  The world was blanketed in white. Sunlight glittered across the undulating curves of snow. When Zura took a breath, the air was crisp and clean, and it stung her nostrils.

  Skeletons of empty buildings surrounded the shuttle, empty windows and doors staring at them. Snowbanks curled around the corners of buildings, flowing into the darkened interiors.

  Ahead of her, two sets of footprints spread out from the shuttle ramp, each ending in the wavering outline of a crouching soldier.

  "Camouflage off," said Zura, walking forward from the ramp. "With me."

  Her soldiers shimmered into view as they fell into formation around her.

  It was once the main street of the village. A broad thoroughfare between two rows of buildings, now filled in with drifted snow. Zura forged ahead, lifting her protesting knee high with each awkward step into the snowdrift. Side streets stretched off to the left and right, with more empty buildings yawning into the snow-filled avenues. Some buildings had roofs heavily weighed down with drifts that curled over the eaves, while others stood as empty walls, the snow-filled upper floors visible. Apart from a few gentle wisps of snow dancing across the drifts, the air was still and silent. Behind them were the sounds of the shuttle's engines idling, the whispering muffled by the carpet of white.

  They followed a gentle curve in the street, and the temple came into view. Taller than the other buildings nearby, its graceful spires reached above the rooftops. Sculptures, their inlaid stones still bright blue, depicted
the Five Divines.

  To the right of the temple building, the nose of a landed ship was visible in the distance. Human built, 'Nebula' class, just as the scans had determined. Judging by the layer of snow on the engine ducts, it had been sitting for hours, and wasn't prepared to go anywhere soon. Two members of the other squad, their black armour clearly visible against the sea of white, stood guard with their weapons drawn.

  Pelaa's voice broke the silence, his words clipped short by his helmet's external speaker. "Mahasa, I will take Irasa to reinforce the squad guarding the ship."

  "La," said Zura. As Pelaa and Irasa turned away in the direction of the freighter, she continued forward to the temple. She could already see footprints in the snow, going up the steps and through the front door. Many footprints, of dozens of people making no attempt to disguise their numbers.

  Reaching the bottom of the temple steps, she looked up. Two dozen hard stone steps awaited her. "Nsal 'neth," she muttered, reaching down to the pouch on her belt. Sliding off her gloves, Zura withdrew the small bottle and picked out a single tablet. She popped it in her mouth and swallowed, putting the bottle away. "Let's see what this is about," she said aloud, and started trudging up the steps to the temple door. Black-armoured Antur stayed beside her, while Nathal followed behind.

  Halfway up the steps, Zura paused. Next to her booted feet, among the chaos of dozens of footsteps, were a few footprints smaller than the rest. "Children," she sighed. She continued up the steps to the temple's entrance.

  Inside the darkened temple, with its clean white walls and snow-swept floor, the centre of the room was lit by an orange glow. A group of figures huddled in a circle around a portable heater, the warm light reflecting off the wet patch of floor. Off to the sides, near the mosaic-covered walls, two black-armoured soldiers stood guard, weapons in their hands but aimed toward the floor.

  Seeing Zura appear in the temple's doorway, the huddled mass began to move. Shifting across the floor, the ring of humans parted. They backed away from her, forming a tight semicircle, the brightly-glowing heater on the floor between them and her.

  It was well below freezing outside — twenty below or more, by human measurement — and none of the humans were dressed for it. They had numerous layers of light clothes, clean but heavily worn; most were without gloves or hats. Thirty-two people, she counted… a microcosm of humanity. Men and women, tall and short, dark skin and light. All of them huddled against each other, all of them staring at her. All of them with visible fear on their faces. When she took a step forward, several of them flinched.

  "Nsal 'neth," she muttered under her breath. She raised her voice, her harmonics tinged by her irritation. "In your language," she began, "I am General Varta." Her eyes went to each of them in turn. Most of them looked away; those with children pulled them nearer. Only a few of them held eye contact, though their fear was plain to see. "I am the military governor of the Outer Frontier Territories, and you are trespassing on a Palani grave world. Do you understand?"

  A few turned their heads down, avoiding her gaze. Several moved their heads in hesitant nods, or mouthed acknowledgement. Only one, who had been watching her the whole time, spoke. "We haven't touched anything," said the young, dark-skinned human. He was tall but thin, his cheekbones prominent on his bearded face. "We know we shouldn't be here. We're sorry." He paused to look left and right, at the fellow humans near him. Several of them cast him sideways glances, their faces lit by the orange glow of the heater.

  The young man looked back at her, his dark eyes meeting hers. She could see the tightness in his neck, and hear the slight tremble as he spoke. He was afraid, but determined. "General Varta, please… we're asking for your help. Your mercy. We're refugees. We didn't mean any disrespect to—"

  "Refugees?" asked Zura. "Where are you from?"

  The young human licked his lips. "Portland Seven," he said. "It's one of the refugee camps on New Portland." He gestured hesitantly toward the others. "We're all from there. Most of us were born there. We're—"

  "New Portland," interrupted Zura. "How many people in that camp?"

  "I don't know, General, ma'am. Two million?" He looked to the others again for confirmation. Several of them nodded; others just shrugged.

  "Don't call me 'ma'am'. I am 'Mahasa' in my language, or 'General' in yours."

  The man quickly stammered an apology. "Sorry, General. I meant no disrespect. I thought—"

  "Nsal 'neth," whispered Zura. There were fifty camps on New Portland, if she remembered correctly. A hundred million refugees, a fraction of the population that had been evacuated from Earth and other worlds during the war. Forty years later, they were still in camps. Entire generations growing up in sprawling refugee camps, with humanity too burdened to do much more than just keep them alive.

  Zura watched the faces in front of her. Some looked less tense, while others appeared confused. "Two million in your camp," she said. "A hundred million or more on New Portland. How was it you that got here? What's special about you?"

  "The pilot," stammered the young man. "Liam." He was looking at the young human woman next to him, his eyes pleading at her. "Ann? You know Liam. Ann, tell the General—"

  "Yes, Ann," said Zura. She stepped forward, into the water-covered circle of floor around the heater, feeling its warmth on the side of her face. "Tell me about Liam the pilot."

  Ann was a short woman with dirty brown hair; her face was wrapped in a yellow-and-black scarf, and she seemed to be trying to hide behind it. Zura took another step forward, the light from the heater casting a giant shadow of her across the far wall of the temple.

  Ann seemed to get smaller as Zura approached, drawing her head down to her shoulders. At the other end of the room, one of the young humans took a loud, shuddered breath, as if they were about to start crying.

  Zura glanced in the direction of the new sound, trying to see the face in the light of the heater's glow. This wasn't working. The humans were all too scared to be useful. Scared of her. Just like Councillor Miller had said.

  She turned her face up toward the ceiling, looking at the cracked mosaics. She took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh.

  Zura's armour creaked as she lowered herself to one knee; the pain she expected came only as a numb throbbing. She was still almost eye level with the young woman. "Ann," she said, "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not going to hurt any of you. But I need you to tell me how you all got here."

  The young woman's eyes briefly met hers before looking away. "Liam," she said, almost too quiet to hear. "He used to bring food to our part of the camp." Her eyes searched Zura's face as if trying to gauge her reaction. "My parents knew him from before the war."

  Zura tried to keep her voice calm, her harmonics soothing. It wasn't an easy thing for her. "Go on."

  "He said he'd take a bunch of us away. Some millionaire had hired his ship away from the relief agency. Paid for him to take a bunch of us to a new colony. We thought we were lucky."

  Zura looked around her, at the orange-lit faces of the refugees. All eyes were on her. "You didn't question this?"

  "Would you?" asked Ann.

  The tall human man spoke up. "I didn't want to spend my whole life in that camp. I wanted to go somewhere else. Anywhere else. I didn't ask any questions."

  A bunch of nodding heads offered agreement. Zura had never been to one of the human refugee camps, but she'd seen pictures. Row after row of shelters. Tents, mostly, but some more substantial structures as well. None of them intended as permanent housing, certainly not for forty years. Despite the combined efforts of humanity to provide for them, the refugees continued to live in squalor. Disease was rampant. Disease, and all the other problems that came from having millions of desperate humans living together.

  Putting her hands down on her good knee, Zura pushed herself to her feet. It wasn't up to her to fix all of humanity's problems. Can't save them all.

  "How long did it take you to get here?"

  "Twenty
-one days," said the tall human.

  Zura furrowed her brow. She gestured toward the unseen freighter parked outside. "All of you? Twenty-one days, in that ship?"

  The humans nodded, or mumbled in acknowledgement.

  "Stay here," she ordered, and turned to walk from the temple.

  "What will you do with us?" asked one of the humans.

  Zura pointed at Antur as she walked to the entrance. "They stay here."

  "La, Mahasa."

  Zura marched out the front of the temple, back into the biting cold. The wind had begun to pick up, and was sweeping new-fallen snow around the temple, rearranging the drifts and covering some of the footprints on the steps.

  The pain in her knee was little more than a dull nuisance as she made her way down the steps. Snow swirled around her feet as she rounded the corner of the building, headed toward the landed human freighter.

  'Nebula' class, she thought. The boxy hull of the freighter held a voluminous cargo bay; the rear bulkhead was a giant ramp that opened for easy loading. Behind the high cockpit, at the top of a ladder, the front hatch was open. A grey-haired human male sat in the hatchway, his feet dangling out the hatch. Pelaa, Irasa, and two other soldiers, their black armour standing out against the snow, stood in a ring around the ship.

  One of the soldiers — not one of Pelaa's squad — took a step toward her as she approached. "Mahasa," said the soldier, bowing. "An-selet."

  "La," replied Zura, coming to a stop. She looked up at the freighter, its relaxed-looking pilot looking back down at her. An-selet. Positive scan. That meant the pilot was known to them; he'd been caught on a grave world before. Normally, she'd have just shot him. "Pilot," she called.