Blue Guardian

by S. J. Madill

  Yaella sobbed loudly, looking down toward the table.

  "Look at me."

  Yaella's eyes met hers again, fresh tears welling in her eyes.

  Zura took a deep breath, trying not to show the hitch in her voice. "Yaella. Child. You are alive. You have as much right to life and happiness as the scientists who created you, or Shirley, or me, or anyone. The stars themselves are yours, Yaella, as much as they are anyone's. Do you understand?"

  Yaella sniffled loudly, wiping her nose on her sleeve. "But… I don't know… don't I have a purpose?"

  "You get to choose your own purpose, Yaella. What do you want your life to be?"

  "I… don't know?"

  "You will," nodded Zura. "In time, you'll know what your purpose will be. I promise."

  And please, thought, Zura, by whatever god or gods Yaella might one day follow, let her purpose be better than mine.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  A gentle chime sounded from Zura's datapad, as a message window imposed itself over the novel she'd been reading. A priority message, it said, from Captain Upara.

  Zura glanced at the window. She'd woken up very early, and had been unable to get back to sleep. Outside, it was the very edge of night; the hour when the first glimmer of light hinted at the approaching dawn.

  She pressed her finger against the message window on the datasheet.

  The Kahala Hila's captain came into view, the frigate's control room visible behind her. "Mahasa."

  Zura breathed deeply to stifle a yawn. "Yes, Captain?"

  "Mahasa, we have lost contact with the science station in the Duara-Selo system. There were no anomalous messages, just a loss of signal."

  "Nsal 'neth," breathed Zura. "On my way. Prepare the Kahala Hila to get underway the moment I am aboard. Tell Major Roche that we will be departing the system."

  "La, Mahasa," said Upara, bowing.

  Zura stabbed the datasheet with her finger to close the communications window, then tossed the sheet on her bed.

  Despite the surge of adrenaline she felt flowing through her, Zura forced herself to remain calm. She grabbed her underarmour suit from next to the bed and began to pull it on. The same swift routine she'd practiced for centuries. Underarmour, then armour, then weapons.

  With the undersuit on, Zura approached her armour rack. One piece after another, her fists punching at the clasps in the same order as always. It was mechanical, done without thinking. She was moving more slowly than she would if there'd been an armourer present, but quick nonetheless. Left side, right side; left shoulder, right shoulder. Left leg, right leg.

  One didn't just 'lose contact' with a science station. Tunnel cell communications couldn't be intercepted or listened to. Was it just a technical fault, or something else? Attacking a Palani research station would be bold to the point of recklessness. Any attacker would run the risk of a massive Palani retaliation. Were they counting on the humans to temper the anger of their Palani allies? Or was she seeing things that weren't even there?

  With a few key presses, the weapon locker chimed and fell open. Her combat knife slid into the sheath on her right calf, and her sidearm latched to her left hip. She grabbed her carbine and swung it over her right shoulder, where it latched to her back armour. Grabbing her helmet from the armour rack, Zura turned toward the door.

  The helmet slipped from her grasp. As it clattered to the floor, Zura was already bending over to scoop it back up.

  She felt a small tinge of numbed discomfort from her right knee as she straightened up. Pressing Singh's injector against her knee had become the first waking act of every day; she shouldn't be able to feel anything so soon after.

  Zura took two extra steps, plucking the bottle of Fuckitall from her bedside table as she headed out the bedroom door.

  Crossing the apartment, she saw a bleary-eyed face looking around the corner from the storage room. "Zura?"

  "A little trouble far away," she whispered. "Go back to sleep. I'll be back soon."

  "Okay," yawned the girl, as Zura left the apartment.

  Zura thundered down the stairs, her armour and weapons rattling. Each step brought a dull throb from her knee, but it was easily ignored. She reached the front door, and burst out into the dark blue of pre-dawn.

  The steel steps rang as she stomped down to the ground, turning in the direction of the landing pad. "With me," she commanded the invisible Irasa.

  Zura was keeping a count in her head. It had been less than five minutes since receiving the call from Upara. They'd be at the shuttle in less than thirty seconds, and on the Kahala Hila a minute after that.

  She wouldn't deny that she was enjoying this. It was a far cry from commanding the Palani battlefleet, but the thrill was the same. The energy in her body, the urgency of movement. The anticipation of possible battle, and the calm clarity that came with it. She savoured the certainty and simplicity. All of life's myriad of problems and concerns melted away. Her mind focused on the tactical picture, on doctrine and procedure. A lifetime of knowledge of weapons and tactics, of capabilities and vulnerabilities. She always wondered if it was the same for a painter, picking up their brush after too long away. Focus narrowed down to only that which mattered. Only that which was necessary.

  "Irasa," said Zura. "Ask Captain Upara: how long to Duara-Selo?"

  Irasa's disembodied voice came from the air behind and a little above her. "Asking, Mahasa… one hour, fifty minutes."

  "Very well."

  Four tall poles stood at the corners of the landing pad, their light flooding the ground and spilling into the dark sky. Kahala Hila's shuttle sat in the centre of the pad, like a white-and-blue shard of ice. Its engines, quieter than the shrieking engines of human shuttles, were already up to speed. On the nearby ground, the heather flailed back and forth, buffeted by the shuttle's exhaust.

  About two hours, thought Zura. Two hours to Duara-Selo, an hour or two to deal with whatever was happening there, and two hours to come back. For five or six hours at least, there would be no Palani frigates protecting New Fraser.

  Zura stepped into the brilliant light from the landing pad's floodlights. She blinked at the glare, and lowered her eyes. Four shadows fell away from her body in opposite directions; the shadows moved together as she marched across the landing pad to the shuttle.

  She climbed the ramp. The sharp smell of the sea air was replaced by soft, bland air inside the shuttle, with the familiar smell of filtration medium.

  On the left of the shuttle, Pelaa, Nathal, and Antur stood in front of their usual seats, bowing as she arrived at the top of the ramp. Their armour was dull black, their helmets held under their left arms. "Mahasa," said Pelaa.

  A shadow fell over Zura, as Irasa abruptly appeared behind her, shimmering into view like a wall of black armour. "No," said Zura. "Put your armour back to camouflage." She turned toward the rest of the squad. "All of you: camouflage on."

  Zura saw the momentary confusion on the faces of the squad, as they donned their helmets. One by one, they winked out of sight in front of her. Zura cradled her upside-down helmet in her left hand, before lifting it up with one smooth motion and sliding it down over her head.

  The darkness of the closed helmet was interrupted by bright flashes of the helmet's systems powering up. Screens flickered to life, showing her the view outside as if there was no helmet at all. Notes and symbols quivered into view around the edges of her vision. The rest of the squad, invisible to the naked eye, popped into view as green outlines drawn in the display.

  Reaching up to her helmet's controls, Zura tapped a button with one finger. Her blue-coloured armour flickered and disappeared from view, replaced by a green outline of her invisible arms and body.

  "Follow me," she said. Her voice was loud inside the helmet, echoing through the air recycler. Zura walked back down the shuttle's ramp. The squad didn't say a word, but her helmet picked up the sounds of four sets of feet on the ramp behind her.

  Marching away from the shuttle'
s ramp, Zura looked down again, reaching out with the green outline of her right hand to touch at the side of her helmet. A chime sounded, indicating a communications channel had opened.

  "Shuttle One here," came the digitised voice on the other end. "Mahasa, is everything—"

  "Yes," interrupted Zura. "Proceed to Kahala Hila."

  "La, Mahasa," said the pilot's clipped voice.

  The whisper of the shuttle's engines rose to a whine, as the shuttle lifted off behind her. Clouds of dust rolled by, and the red-leafed heather leaned away from the landing pad, clinging to the ground as the wind shoved it aside.

  Zura looked down. Her invisible form cast no shadow; neither did the rest of the squad. Even after all this time, the incongruity was still as distracting as it was the first time she'd used the camouflage.

  Stepping out of the landing pad's light, Zura tapped on her helmet controls once more. It had only been a few minutes, but the glow of dawn seemed a little brighter. In the east, the blue near the horizon had started to shift toward a deep indigo.

  Two chimes in her helmet: a secure channel had been opened. "This is Upara."

  "Upara, this is Mahasa Varta. The shuttle will dock shortly. I and my security detail are not aboard."

  "Yes, Mahasa."

  "You are to take Kahala Hila to Duara-Selo, and deal with the situation by yourself."

  "Yes, Mahasa. Do you suspect Duara-Selo is a diversion?"

  Zura looked at the surrounding buildings. Motioning for the squad to follow her, she started toward the warehouse next to the landing pad. "I don't know, Captain. We know that a surveillance probe was placed in New Fraser's asteroid field. Someone may be watching us, so we'll let them see us leaving the colony unprotected." Upara would probably find the idea of someone attacking the colony very hard to believe. And she'd be right.

  Zura pressed a button on the console next to the warehouse door. With a chirp, it unlatched and the door slid open.

  "Mahasa?" said Upara. "The Uta attacking a colony? Do you think they would do that?"

  Zura stepped into the darkened warehouse, the rest of the squad filing in behind her. "Captain, I've told you before: I don't care what the enemy would do. I care what the enemy could do. Proceed to Duara-Selo. Deal with the situation. Stand by for further orders."

  "Yes, Mahasa." The channel closed with a chime.

  With the entire squad inside, the warehouse door shut behind them. The room was in total darkness save for a feeble safety light over the door they'd entered and another over the larger cargo door. In her helmet display, Zura could see the edges of the room, empty apart from a half-dozen shipping containers stacked in one corner.

  "We wait here," she declared, her voice loud inside her helmet. "If we are lucky, I will soon be proven wrong."

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  There were few lights in the darkened warehouse. Pelaa and Antur sat on the floor near her, their backs against the wall. Antur's face was lit by the glow of the datasheet he held in his lap, the colours shifting from the video he was watching. Pelaa was watching over Antur's shoulder. Irasa sat shoulder to shoulder with Pelaa, her head leaned back against the wall and her mouth open. Every few seconds, the soft rattle of a snore gurgled from Irasa's mouth.

  Only Nathal was on his feet. Helmet on and carbine in hand, he quietly patrolled the inside of the small warehouse.

  Zura checked her wrist console's time display again. It was nearly eight in the morning, colony time. Most of the colonists would be up, going about their morning routines. Yaella would be on her way to the makeshift school in the schoolteacher's residence unit. She hadn't had any further trouble with the other children.

  Two soft chimes came from Zura's helmet. The chimes repeated as she pulled her datasheet from its sleeve on her upper arm and unrolled it in her hands.

  It lit up, the glare of its light making Zura squint. A communications window appeared, with the Kahala Hila's captain in view. Judging by the background, the captain was in her cabin.

  "Mahasa, Upara here." The captain leaned in toward the camera, peering out from the datasheet at Zura. "I can barely see you, Mahasa."

  "I am here, Captain. Your report?"

  Upara straightened up in her seat. "Mahasa, we have arrived at the Duara-Selo system. An Uta vessel was here, but the moment we came out of light speed it left the system."

  Either a supreme coincidence, or the Uta vessel was making sure the Kahala Hila had arrived. It would confirm for the Uta that the frigate was now out of position, almost two hours away from New Fraser.

  "Very well, Captain. Ensure the science station is secure, then set your course back here."

  "Yes, Mahasa," said Upara, giving a curt nod of her head. "Upara out."

  Zura let the datasheet roll itself back up, holding it loosely in her left hand. When she looked up, she saw that all eyes were on her. All, save Irasa's; she was still sleeping against the wall.

  "Won't be long now," said Zura. Several of the soldiers nodded; Antur went back to watching his video.

  Zura sighed and closed her eyes. She was sore from sitting on the hard floor, but she'd been sore before. So much of active duty, even in combat, was spent just like this: waiting for something to happen. Hours or days of waiting, punctuated by seconds or minutes of brutal mayhem. Life, as she'd known it. But what if she was wrong about the colony and the Uta? What if—

  Two chimes from the datasheet. Zura unrolled the sheet again, the light from the display once again hurting her eyes.

  Upara's face was back in the communications window. "Mahasa, Upara here. We have received an urgent message from Major Roche on the colony. He said two ships have come out of light speed and are approaching the planet. He has warned them not to enter the atmosphere, or else—"

  The dim lights in the warehouse flickered, then came back on. A heartbeat later, the building shook. The air shrieked like it was being torn apart, accompanied by a single bark of thunder.

  "That's the turret firing," said Zura, as her soldiers scrambled to their feet. Even Irasa had been jolted awake.

  Upara called to her through the datasheet's window. "Mahasa? Your orders?"

  "Contact Major Roche again—"

  The lights flickered. Pelaa and Antur instinctively put a hand on the warehouse wall. Once again, the building shook; some part of the steel structure rattled as the shrieking thunder tore the air outside.

  "Contact Major Roche," Zura began again, "and tell him that we're here. Your orders are to bring Kahala Hila back here at best speed. Notify Kahala Linata to break off their patrol and return here. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, Mahasa."

  "Very well. Out."

  Sliding the rolled-up datasheet back into the holder on her arm, Zura clambered to her feet. Her soldiers had their helmets on and weapons out, spreading toward the warehouse doors. They moved with practiced grace, each silently taking up their usual positions for going through a door.

  Fumbling for a moment at her belt, Zura pinched two Fuckitall tablets between gloved fingers, dropping them into her mouth.

  Being calm was mostly about looking and acting calm. Soldiers picked up on the demeanour of their officers. She had always been careful to portray calm confidence, no matter how her heart might be hammering in her chest.

  As Zura picked up her helmet, the building shook again. An abrupt bark of thunder subsided into a drawn-out rumble. "Sonic boom," she muttered to herself, inspecting the inside of her helmet. "Something big just hit the atmosphere. Hard."

  Sliding the helmet down on her head, Zura reached over her shoulder and unlatched her carbine. It sprung into her hands as if eager. In her helmet's display, a series of symbols showed the carbine's status and aiming point.

  "Camouflage on," she said, her voice echoing inside her helmet. "Open the door. Let's see what's going on."

  * * *

  Zura walked out into the early-morning sunlight. Two of her soldiers were crouched next to the open door, the others at the near
est corners of the warehouse building.

  Looking up the path, she saw a few of the colonists had come out of their residences. They were facing toward her, looking up into the sky. Zura turned to look.

  A crackling rumble drew nearer, with the approach of a glowing object in the sky. A ship, shedding brightly-burning debris and trailing billowing clouds of black smoke, traced a path out of the sky down towards them. Roche had told Upara there were two ships; Zura scanned the sky for signs of the second one, but saw nothing.

  The burning ship started to turn sideways, its bow drooping toward the ground. Debris fell from the ship, trailing black streamers that curled down toward the sea. The rumble in the air grew steadily louder, punctuated by sharp cracks and the angry hissing of escaping gasses. "It's going to pass over the colony," said Zura. "We stay here until it passes."

  More colonists had come outside, staring up into the sky. Zura heard shouts, as some of the colonists started to run away from the falling ship's line of approach. One man ran right past the camouflaged soldiers, calling out someone's name.

  When she looked again, she saw the falling ship. It was a bright yellow fireball that grew larger as it approached. It had turned fully sideways and was rolling over on its back. Gouts of red burst from the ship's side, and it scattered burning wreckage in its wake as it neared.

  The ground began to shake, the air trembling at the deafening roar of the approaching fireball.

  New movement caught Zura's eye. A small group of children were outside, along with the schoolteacher. He was calling to them, though Zura couldn't hear what he was saying. The children were staring up at the sky, and some were starting to run. Kowarchuk moved among them, shepherding them across the corner of the landing pad and toward the far edge of the colony. Several other adults joined, keeping the anxious children moving, headed into the heather-covered plains beyond the colony's buildings. Zura thought she saw a glimpse of Yaella's blue hair in the frantic crowd, but lost sight of her. They shouldn't be outside in the open, but it was too late for that.