“I said I don’t feel like talking,” Devika said.
“Neither do we, but we’re a team,” Michiko said. “Why are you so gloomy all the time?”
“I am not gloomy,” Devika said.
“Yes, you are,” Michiko said. “Your face is always sad. You’re always so direct.”
“That’s my personality,” Devika said. “If you don’t like it, then go home.”
“See, that’s exactly what I’m talking about!” Michiko said. “I’m just trying to have a conversation with you.”
“It sounds more like an attack,” Devika said.
“Devika,” Keltie said. “Ignore Michiko for a moment. Clearly, something is bothering you. If it weren’t, we wouldn’t be on this journey together. You wouldn’t have saved me back on Macalestern.”
“I was just paying it forward with you,” Devika said. “That’s all.”
“Paying what forward?” Keltie asked.
“A lifetime of trouble,” Devika said. “But as I said, I choose not to talk because I have my reasons.”
“But you talk to your mom,” Michiko said.
“Hardly.”
“Is it an Indian thing?” Michiko asked. “I don’t know very many, but I never thought them to be—”
“Stop talking,” Devika said. “Please stop talking.”
“What?” Michiko said. “I just want to get to know you. You know, they say one’s mom says everything you need to know about a woman. Tell me who your mom is and I’ll tell you your life story. Like me, for example. Did you know that my mom is very strict, overbearing and stubborn? She’s a Leo. I, on the other hand, am as indecisive and non-conforming as they come. I’m a Libra, baby.”
Devika shook her head.
“Oh, did I say something offensive?” Michiko asked. “Do you not believe in zodiacs? I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
Devika couldn’t take it anymore.
“My mother is not Indian,” she said. “She’s white.”
Michiko slanted her head. “Wha—?”
“She adopted me,” Devika said.
Michiko’s eyes widened. Then she grinned. “That explains everything!”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“Yes, it does!”
Michiko snapped her fingers.
“You’re secretive because you’re scared of what people will think about you. With your mom being another race, you probably grew up with an identity crisis, right?”
Michiko was sort of right. The revelation surprised Devika, and she wanted to hear more, but didn’t want to let on that she did.
“You probably carry this guilt around with you, like you’re not Indian enough, and you’re not white enough, either. So theoretically, you don’t belong anywhere. You belong nowhere, and you feel alone, so alone that no one can understand you.”
Keltie’s jaw dropped. “I swear, you are the only person in this galaxy that can say something like that without getting slapped.”
“And,” Michiko said, “I bet that you probably had some traumatic childhood event that makes you so guarded. Did someone bully you? Or, wait—did they call you a racial slur? Maybe you had racist family members? I’m biracial, you know. I totally understand. All of those things happened to me all the time.”
Devika rose.
“This conversation is over,” she said.
“Hey, no, don’t go away—” Michiko said.
But Devika pushed past Keltie and started down the dark hallway toward the bridge.
The radio beeped and Beauregard spoke.
“Ladies, meet me on the bridge. We’re nearing Gargantua and we’ve got a few things to discuss.”
“Thank God,” Devika said.
She walked away from Michiko and Keltie and did not look back.
17
“Your Highness, we have recovered the Planet Eaters.”
Florian hung chained to the wall in the bridge of the Zachary cruiser. Outside, Reader IV’s ringed splendor lay ahead.
A gigantic silver ball floated in the middle of space, among debris and broken spaceships.
Exactly where he left it.
“The aliens are in the containment chamber,” a soldier said. “Density is as it should be.”
“Very good,” the emperor said. “If we have lost Miloschenko, at least we have recovered one of his greatest legacies.”
“Tell me, Mr. Emperor,” Florian said. “How did you find those damn things?”
“I suppose you could say they found us,” the emperor said.
He said no more.
Florian growled as the emperor turned his back to him.
Two metal arms underneath the ship grabbed the containment unit and guided it toward the airlock.
“Call the men and women at the home base,” the emperor said. “Tell them we are going to make a detour. They must be ready at a moment’s notice.”
He turned to Florian. “Mr. Macalestern, it appears that the first half of your plan has worked as you said it would. Should the last half be successful, I may just let you live.”
“That would be fantastic,” Florian said.
The emperor laughed gleefully.
“Onward, men. Let us go to Defestus.”
“Don't like the looks of them,” Grayson said, yawning.
He let Eddie fly, and he had been resting his eyes for a little while—until they came across the ship.
Eddie eased the corsair in a diagonal direction across the debris field.
He focused the rearview camera on the Zachary ship. The red ship’s airlock closed, its thrusters activated, and it blasted into hyperspace.
“I'd say they found whatever it was that they were looking for,” Grayson said.
“You think they saw us?” Eddie asked.
“Don't think so,” Grayson said. “There are a lot of ships passing through here.”
In the distance, another ship passed by, a blinking beacon in the darkness.
“You had a good hunch about coming back to Refugio,” Grayson said. “Good instinct, buddy.”
“So what do we do now?” Eddie asked. “Where do you think they're headed?”
“I say we follow them,” Grayson said. “We’ll hang back if they hit the galaxy border.”
Grayson checked the weapons dashboards.
Ammunition was full.
Guns were operational.
“Nice thing about this is we've got some firepower if we need it,” Grayson said. “But I don't think we’re gonna need it.”
Eddie dialed coordinates into the navigational dashboard.
“Based on the way they blasted off, they're probably traveling at 2.5 FTE. Let's follow at 1.5,” Eddie said.
“Sounds like a plan,” Grayson said.
He had worried about Eddie, but when it came to spaceships, he was more confident, more assertive. Exactly what the team needed.
Now he just had figure out how to unlock that assertiveness when he wasn't in the belly of a spaceship or in a cockpit.
Eddie activated the hyper core and ship blasted forward into a brilliant, radiant tunnel of purple light.
“Wonder where they're going,” Eddie said. “At this rate, we’re headed out of the short arm.”
“Ain't been out of the short arm in a long time,” Grayson said. “Talk about some backwater planets, man.”
“Our garbage route goes this way occasionally,” Eddie said.
“I forgot you were a garbage man,” Grayson said.
“One of the best,” Eddie said. “Hard to imagine not driving a garbage ship. I'm so used to them.”
“So what's the word for spaceship?” Grayson asked.
“Hmm,” Eddie said. “I guess we just always say avión.”
“Isn't that the word for airplane?”
“Yep. We don't have a word for spaceship so we just use one we already have.”
“Ha,” Grayson said. “It'd be nice if we did that sometimes. Man, we've got more words in English than we proba
bly need.”
Grayson played with the word, whispering it.
“Avión,” he said. “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. I'm gonna be fluent before long, I'm tellin’ you.”
The navigation panel beeped.
“They just changed course,” Eddie said.
They looked at the star map together.
The Zachary ship was a blinking red dot among a macrocosm of stars. Its trajectory curved outward, to the outer edge of the spiral galaxy, toward a lone ball of light.
“What planet is that?” Grayson asked.
Eddie touched the ball of light and enlarged it. A gray planet with a cloudy atmosphere appeared. A title appeared above it.
Defestus - Maximum Penitentiary Planet
Do not pick up escape pods
Eddie gulped.
18
The GGC Horizon came upon Gargantua quickly. It was an orange planet with an atmosphere that looked like a sunset. It reminded Keltie of a sizzling, angry sun.
Aside from Kavios Two, Gargantua was on her shortlist for most beautiful planet. She looked forward to seeing its perpetual autumn skies again.
She and Devika waited on the bridge for Michiko.
Beauregard sighed impatiently.
“Where is Michiko?”
“She was letting Clark out to eat,” Keltie said.
“Please tell me she's not letting him cannibalize our ship,” Will said.
“No,” Keltie said, pointing to a rearview camera.
Clark was flying in space behind the rescue ship, eating the ship’s exhaust. He was feeding ravenously, as if he hadn't eaten in months, as if eating were his specialty and the only thing he knew how to do. He chomped and gobbled up the thick brown smoke, and his eye glowed with every bite.
Then the airlock doors opened, and he flew inside.
A few moments later, they heard frantic footsteps running down the hallway toward the bridge.
“I'm coming, I'm coming!”
Michiko burst onto the bridge, tripping over a step. She crashed to the floor and rolled twice.
Clark followed behind her, burping.
“Sorry,” she said, standing. “I had to feed him.”
“You're late,” Devika said.
“By two minutes!” Michiko said.
“Well, we’re glad you're finally here, Miss Lins,” Beauregard said. “Anyway, we’re visiting an isolated facility at the prestigious Lectern University campus.”
“Go Lions,” Keltie said, expecting a laugh.
No one replied.
“Tough crowd,” she said.
“We've given all three of you security clearance,” Beauregard said. “We ask that you focus on the matter at hand, and that you use discretion in what you may see.”
“Are there dead people there?” Michiko asked.
“No, Miss Lins, but this is a top secret facility.”
“Oooh, like the movies,” Michiko said.
“As far as we know, the Planet Eater there has not been responsive to any tests,” Beauregard said. “We’re hoping Clark can change that.”
“That means there's a lot riding on you, little buddy,” Michiko said.
Clark blinked.
“What happens if nothing happens?” Devika asked. “Has the Guard developed a strategy?”
“We’re still on the defensive at this point,” Beauregard said. “And even worse, we don't have much say in the matter. It's an army and government call. But since we've been involved with the rescues, we are able to help with gathering evidence and making recommendations. We have a good reputation and the army will listen to us.”
“Then it’s settled,” Devika said.
“Just wanted to make sure you all knew what was going on and what's at stake,” Beauregard said. “Will, let's prepare for entry.”
19
Smoke grabbed a dead body and hurled it off the bed of the pickup. He grabbed another body, released it into the air, and it crashed on top of the first.
Flies swarmed all over the dead bodies, and the morning heat delivered the rotten smell of decomposition.
He wiped the sand off of his hands and looked around the rival settlement. Men, women and children had gathered around, watching in horror.
“Time for a change,” Smoke said.
All around the gang settlement, guns clicked.
But then—
Zzzt!
Zzzt!
Zzzt!
Bullets zipped past him, and the area filled with smoke from the coil shots.
He stood and folded his arms, waited for the gunfire to stop.
When it did, enemy gang members fell onto the ground, groaning.
His men jumped off the pickup, their handcoils smoking.
“Like I said,” Smoke said, “time for a change.”
He grabbed a spotlight off the bed of the pickup and staked it in the ground.
“You take orders from me, now,” he said.
Silence fell across the settlement.
The silence of order.
“You. Get over here. You. Give me the keys to all the pickups here. You. I don't like you. Start walking. You. Stop whimpering, you're a grown man. You. Get the kids out of my sight.”
“Where'd you get that spotlight?”
As Smoke and his men gathered up the rations and supplies of the fifth settlement they conquered, a tattooed man stopped Smoke to ask.
Smoke staked the spotlight on the ground.
“None of your damn business.”
“Did you find it?” the man asked. “Did the police give it to you? Did—”
Smoke grabbed him by the throat and squeezed.
“Shut up. Here's what you're going to do, since you're so interested in the light.”
Smoke pointed to the on switch.
“Watch the skies tonight. When you see lights, turn yours on. Point it in the same direction as the others.”
“But why?”
Smoke threw the man to the ground and walked away.
Back at the home settlement, Smoke watched as his men piled up a mound of crates.
“I'd say we've got about six weeks of food here, boss,” a man said. Smoke dubbed him Most Likely to Remain Calm in a Fight. “Lots of handcoils, too.”
“Good,” he said.
“Still don't understand the plan,” Remain Calm said.
“I like you,” Smoke said. “Keep it that way.”
And then he walked away.
Smoke stood atop a dune, staring at the blazing sun.
A sandy breeze blew, and his handkerchief rippled around his face, flapping and stinging him.
He didn't even feel the stinging. He was used to life in this place.
The wind screamed.
The ground shook.
Far off in the distance, a pack of sand lampreys exploded from the sand, roaring.
Then they crashed into the sand, crawling all over it.
They were feeding on something.
Smoke narrowed his eyes.
Then he looked up again at the sky, the sky that would, in just a few hours, be filled with stars.
One light in particular would be tracing through the sky, over the settlement.
The police station.
They'd be watching.
He wasn't going to stay in this place.
They would have to kill him before he submitted.
Maybe it was time to die.
All he had to do was walk to the lampreys, and they'd do him the honor.
But no.
He wasn't going to give society that satisfaction.
He squinted at the sky and clenched his fists.
20
Ryan Miller popped his trench coat collar and held his fedora as a harsh Provenance breeze blew through him.
He turned his cheek, softening the blow somewhat. His eyes watered.
He paused in place, waiting for a break.
But the wind blew incessantly, making him question why he hadn't taken a colleague’s sugges
tion to buy a better jacket.
Provenance lay before him, a windy, rocky flatland filled with silver home pods.
They all looked the same, and if he hadn't done his research in the GALPOL database, he wouldn't have had the first clue about how to navigate the serpentine residential grid. The city planning was all about curved lines; the map he memorized looked like a square grid that had been bent by a strong breeze.
He stood in front of a house pod. It was an unassuming silver ball. Small and cozy, big enough for two people, with no outer modifications.
Miller didn't get the pod homes. Just couldn't understand how someone could live inside a glorified ball bearing.
He read the pod’s address.
Looked like the one.
A blue corsair was parked behind the pod. Through the circular living room in the front, he saw the lights on.
He walked up to the front door and knocked.
A dog barked.
“Addy, stop!”
He heard footsteps. The door creaked open.
Mary Williams poked her head out. She was older than she looked in the public domain photos—wrinkled around the eyes, graying strands of hair.
But she had the air of a social worker. Pragmatic, no mincing words. A defender.
“Can I help you?”
“Are you Mary Williams?” Miller asked.
“Will you go away if I'm not?” Mary asked.
Miller laughed. “Probably not. I'd have some serious questions about why your face looks so similar to the photos.”
Mary’s face turned from neutral to worried.
“What's going on?”
Miller flashed his badge. “This is about your daughter, Devika.”
Mary wasn't cold to him, but she wasn't happy to see him, either.
Normally, when he visited people, they offered him something to drink, made small talk.
But Mary didn't even offer him a chance to say anything.
She swung the door open and walked into her living room, not even telling him to come in.
A black Labrador puppy trotted behind her.
He turned down his trench coat collar.
This was going to be awkward.
Mary sat down.
Miller stopped in front of a leather couch. A vase of roses sat on an end table next to the couch, along with a photo of Devika. She was in a t-shirt and shorts, unsmiling, holding the Labrador puppy in her arms.
Planet Eaters (Galaxy Mavericks Book 8) Page 10