Guardians (Caretaker Chronicles Book 2)

by Josi Russell

  A mine was a funny place: loud with the ringing of the picks and the reverberations on the glassy Yynium vein, loud with the crash of the ore being tossed into the trams, loud with the coughing and shuffling of the miners. But all these sounds were dampened by the immense weight of the stone above them, the narrowness of the drift, and the hovering darkness at either end of their work section, past the tall blast lights that stood precariously on their tripod bases. It was as if, at any moment, the clamor of Yynium extraction might be snuffed out like a flickering lamp and all that would remain would be silence.

  Some days they talked. Today, though, they worked in silence. Daniel was lost in his memories of the market. He wished he’d punched Gaynes through the bars or that he’d simply taken the rangkor tubers and walked out.

  But being locked up wouldn’t help his family. He knew that. What made his heart beat faster and his teeth clench as he swung the pick again was that Gaynes knew it too.

  The tram on the way out of the mine was always exhilarating. Even after a long day’s work, when Daniel’s shoulders and back ached, and his hands throbbed from the percussion of steel on stone, he loved the feeling of going up and out of the pit. When, on the last long slope out of the mine, the tram bogged down and slowed, straining under the weight of the miners and the pitch of the track, he always felt a twinge of apprehension. And then, above them, rising like Candidus, the Minean moon, was a patch of sky that brought his heart to his chest every time.

  He glanced around to see if the other miners felt it. But most of them had their eyes closed against the wind or were dozing from their exhaustion. Only one other miner was looking. Only one, whose clear blue eyes caught his and shared with him the moment of liberation from the pit: Zella.

  ***

  Daniel’s mother was chatting with neighbors as they walked home, and they quickly outpaced him, leaving him walking the long road alone in the crowd. That didn’t last long, however. He heard a lovely, bright voice next to his shoulder.

  “I love coming out of the mine, don’t you?” Zella slipped her arm through his as they walked easily together. She was almost his height, and as they walked she reached up and pulled off her bright head covering. Her light curls cascaded down around her shoulders, and Daniel’s breath caught in his throat.

  “I do.” Daniel glanced away, his cheeks coloring. He suspected she knew how he felt—how Pete and Hadib felt, how every guy who knew her felt—about her.

  But Zella didn’t let on. She took a drink from her water bottle, and Daniel heard it swish empty as she did so. She shook it. “All out. Good thing it’s the end of the day!” He nodded. “Remember how, back on Earth, lemonade was so delicious on a hot summer day?”

  Daniel did remember. He had manned many a lemonade stand with his cousins during his childhood. “It was.”

  Zella leaned close. “I don’t think I could drink it without gagging now.” She shook her head in disgust. “Too much Yynium-ade.”

  He knew what she meant. Even with the masks, by the end of the day, the miners’ mouths were so coated with the lemony dust that every sip of water tasted like it. He laughed. “Don’t say it too loud. Saras’ll have us running Yynium-ade stands at the next Lucidus festival.”

  “Did you see it?” Zella asked, and Daniel tried to pretend she was just talking about Lucidus.

  “Yeah. I was lucky to be on the swing shift yesterday, so I got to go out for a minute in the morning and take the little girls. A lady named Joyce in our building even let them use her bells to ring.”

  “They must have loved that.”

  “They did.” Daniel thought about how they had held the bells in a reverent way, looking at their reflections in the shiny surfaces. He needed to get them back to church, so they could play hand bells once a month. There was so precious little in their life that was beautiful, so little music. He could add a little more by not sleeping in on worship day every month.

  He felt a jerk on his arm and looked down. Zella was expectantly waiting for an answer, but he hadn’t heard her question.

  “I’m sorry. I was thinking about my sisters. What did you say?”

  “That’s okay. I was just asking if you saw the spot?”

  Daniel nodded. “I saw it.”

  She squeezed his arm. “Tell me about it! I was working the day shift, so I didn’t see it!”

  The memory of the shadow passed through Daniel’s mind. “It was . . .” He tried to think of how to make it sound exciting. “A dark dot. It just, fshew,” he shot a pointed finger up and across the sky, then regretted it as he felt the pain in his shoulders, “streaked across Lucidus, then it was gone.”

  Zella shuddered, an excited little tremble. He admired her enthusiasm, even after a whole day underground. “What do you think it was?”

  Daniel shrugged. “Most people say it was a part of the orbital defense system that just so happened to line up this year.”

  She looked disappointed. “I guess.” Then a mischievous spark came into her eyes. “Or maybe it was a spaceship, come to rescue us from the mines.”

  “Maybe,” Daniel said doubtfully.

  “Or a meteor,” she said. “Did you make a wish?”

  Daniel sighed heavily. They were reaching the edge of the Industrial District, and he turned toward their tenement. The dull gray buildings rose around them, blocking out all but small slices of the clear sky.

  “I make wishes every day,” he said wearily.

  They walked in silence a moment, the wave of day shift workers swelling around them as it met the wave of swing shift workers heading out of the city. Soon, the crowd was crushing, and Zella clung tightly to Daniel. It was the first time he’d enjoyed the crowd.

  They found building G and she pulled him onto the sidesteps, where they sat and breathed out the last of the day’s stress.

  “What do you wish for?” she said, softly. “When you’re making all those wishes?”

  Daniel looked down at her. Zella shone with chalky Yynium dust, grey bits of stone mingled with the sparkling orange Yynium. Her eyes, bright blue as the slices of sky, captured him and he found himself talking.

  “I wish my mother didn’t have to work. I wish my sisters could stay home with her instead of going to the school. I wish I could design hovercars and work in an office. I wish you—” He stopped.

  “Wish I could what?”

  He wanted to say that he wished Zella and he could have time to spend together that wasn’t rushing to the next shift or dragging home from the last one, but there was too much invitation in the words. He didn’t say them, just looked away.

  Zella, still clinging to his arm, lifted a hand to his cheek and turned his face to her.

  “Daniel, we can be . . .” She paused, searching for the right words. “Together. My parents like you. Your mama likes me. We could, you know, get married and start a life.”

  Daniel let himself remain in her arms for one second, then pulled gently away, disentangling her hands from his arm and pushing her hand gently away from his face before standing and leaning on the stair railing.

  “Zel, I—” How to assuage the hurt in her eyes? “It’s not that I don’t want to be with you—I do. It’s just that, you know, with my mother and my sisters—” He fumbled. “With my dad dying—I don’t think I can . . . take care of anyone else right now.”

  Her eyes flashed and she stood. “That’s not what I want, Daniel. I’m not looking for someone to set me up in a life of luxury. Did you ever think I might be asking because I think maybe you could use somebody who would take care of you?” Zella stomped up the stairs and went into the building. He wouldn’t see her again tonight.

  He was speechless as he watched her go. He hadn’t known the depth of her feelings. He took a step, trying to form words, but the dry taste of Yynium dust choked them back.

  ***

  Kaia noticed that something was different about the junkyard as soon as the hovercar dropped her off. She couldn’t see the junk from o
utside the corrugated metal fence that surrounded it. The last time Kaia had visited, and all the times before that, the refuse from the mines and refinery had lain in twisted, tangled lumps. The junker had bulldozed anything and everything into a big pile in the middle, dumping at the edges and bulldozing around it in a big circle, pushing the trash into an uneven heap that folded in on itself and rendered inaccessible the center of the pile, which was where Kaia suspected all the good stuff was.

  In fact, the junker had told her that somewhere in the middle the Saras Company had dumped all the old ship parts from the first exploration missions they’d sent to Minea. Kaia would like to get her hands on some of those first drives. She had read about them in the manuals. Called Octagon drives, they held potential in their cores that Kaia felt had been overlooked in the rush to redesign them. All the parts from the old ships were rumored to be in here somewhere. Buried under ever-increasing loads, they’d become nothing more than refuse, dumped in this unused corner of the city behind the spaceport, and covered with concrete rubble, old hovercars, and tangled mining equipment.

  But now, as Kaia entered, the junkyard was inviting. Flowing arcs of piled metal gave way to smooth lines of old boards. The pathways between the towering piles of junk had been neatly swept, and small columns of smooth stones dotted the intersections, offering navigation through the maze. She was here looking for a set of gears and anything she could use for the body of a little robot she was making for Polara and Rigel.

  She glanced toward the middle, where the enormous mountain of junk had shrunk considerably. Around it were smaller piles, obviously being reorganized into small groups of similar items. She took a few steps toward it, wondering if any early items had been uncovered, then glanced at her missive to check the time. There was a new message from Aria, seeing if they could move their lunch date back an hour. She swiped it, and sent a yes. Calculating how much time it would take to get back to the housing district, she knew she’d have to see if she could find the old ship stuff next time. She didn’t want to be rushed through exploration like that.

  Kaia started today’s project by sorting through a pile of old sanitizer and disposer parts, stepping over to a pile of light fixtures and a row of broken mining tools. She made a little pile on the blue dirt of possible pieces. In addition to a steel ball, a shiny silver plate, and a bell-shaped copper light shade, she had found several rusty rods and a smooth cylinder of metal. It gleamed next to a rectangle coated with flaking rust and a bright red chip of unbreakable glass. She stepped back to consider which pieces might make the most interesting torso, which might be good for decoration, and which would go best with the tarnished copper cube she had chosen for the head.

  She was holding up the cube, positioning it over each piece, when she heard the voice of Yi Zhe.

  “Did you find what you were looking for?”

  Kaia glanced up. He was one of her passengers, a young man whose dark hair and eyes were especially kind. His wife, Jin Feiyan, and their little son stood behind him. Kaia hadn’t seen them for several months, not even at the gatherings of the passengers of Ship 12-22 that she and Ethan tried to have once in a while.

  “Yi Zhe!” She leaned in for a friendly hug. “What are you doing here?”

  “I work here now. I could find no other work,” Yi Zhe said, shaking his head sadly. “My skills seem to be useless here.”

  Kaia looked around the junkyard. Quiet pervaded the pathways and piles. Similar objects were grouped together, gears over here, ball bearings there, large rusted metal pieces and small rusted metal plates farther down the aisle, and shining chrome pieces reflecting the overall harmony of the place. She’d never seen a junkyard like it. It was a pleasant place. Of course. It had Yi Zhe’s fingerprints all over it.

  “The change is remarkable.” She couldn’t help digging a little. “Did you learn anything about the history of the place when they hired you? I’ve heard some interesting rumors that there are some old ship parts around here.”

  Yi Zhe looked thoughtful. “A few,” he said, “but I think many of them were stolen early on. At first, the junkyard was unmanned, but from what I heard, too many people started carting off Saras’s junk and a little junk trade started. The parts weren’t being manufactured here yet. When Saras needed something, they had to pay to get their own junk back. So, they hired a junkyard manager. He ran the place for years, but he died a few weeks ago and I got the job.”

  Yi Zhe glanced down, moving the robot parts on the ground into a staggered diagonal as he spoke.

  His wife, Jin Feiyan, broke in, thrusting a wrapped packet—Yi Zhe’s lunch—into his hand. “I told him before we left Earth that there was no use for him here. I told him there was a mistake that he was chosen to come to the colony. What use is there on a mining planet for a master of balance and harmony? None.” She scoffed. “If my parents had known he was going to end up a junkyard man, he would never have been my husband.” She kicked at the robot parts, scattering them, before gathering her little boy’s hand and leaving the junkyard. Kaia got the feeling that she didn’t spend any more time here than necessary.

  “She’s worried,” Yi Zhe apologized, leaning down and gathering the parts. “I’ve been out of work a long time. Just little jobs, here and there. We have the cottage to live in, of course, but buying food and paying for electricity is hard some months.”

  Kaia nodded.

  “And everything I know is unimportant here. No one pays attention to the flow of qi or the balance of their lives.”

  Kaia thought of the dusty miners, their crowded apartments, the shouting on payday, and the desperate look in the eyes of the women at the market. “Your skills may be more needed than you realize.”

  “Oh, I realize how important they are,” Yi Zhe said, “and how much Coriol needs them. But no one else does. A lot of us from Ship 12-22 are noticing, Kaia,” he gestured toward the spaceport towering above them, its elevators shining in the afternoon sun, “our ship was not supposed to get here, and neither were we.”

  “But—”

  “No, think about it. Everyone else who has come to Minea has had work waiting for them when they arrived. They were carefully chosen to fill their roles here and make the society work. Think about your passengers. What is Silas’s great gift? Motivational speaking. What, is he going to talk the Yynium out of the ground? And Minz? Who needs a laundry manager when there’s a sanitizer in every home?” Yi Zhe’s voice was tinged with bitterness, as if his wife had left behind a germ of it and he had become, suddenly, infected.

  He sighed heavily and Kaia, still not skilled at interpersonal communication after all her years alone, simply shook her head. She wanted to tell him that he was needed, that they all had important parts to play, but she knew their reality was contradicting that. Many of her passengers had left Coriol, and she didn’t know what they were doing, but of those who had stayed, none were doing what they were known for back on Earth. Some had gotten work in the mines or fields; some were starving, scraping by on odd jobs or charity. She’d given some of them scrip herself.

  She knew she was lucky that her father had his work in the military. She knew she was lucky that once in a while Saras Company would ask for her skills as an engineering consultant. She knew that she was lucky to have the scrip they brought in. But until that moment in the junkyard, she hadn’t realized how lucky she was that her passion, her life’s work, was valued by the creators of Coriol. That this allowed her to continue to do it and to contribute in the way she chose to society.

  Yi Zhe had rearranged the robot parts on the ground, and when she looked down, she saw exactly the ones she needed. Only one line of parts he had made seemed complete. The round head, the rectangular body, the rods, the shiny plate, and the chip of glass all came together to form in her mind into a perfect little gift for the children.

  As she gathered them, Kaia checked her missive again. If she left now, she would have just enough time to swing by the Employment Office and still
make it for lunch. She paid Yi Zhe, thanked him, and reminded him of the importance of his skills. He shrugged off the praise and took the scrip.

  Kaia thought about his words all the way home. Were her passengers useless? She thought through the ones who had stayed in Coriol, thinking about their gifts, their contributions back on Earth, catalogued in the applications they had submitted to be considered, which she had read over and over again when she was fighting the loneliness of her journey.

  They didn’t have a neat slot to fit in when they arrived. There was no movie industry to welcome the actors, no galleries for the artwork of the painters and sculptors, no laundries or newspapers or professional sports leagues where their skills were needed.

  Kaia sat heavily on the bench in the sol train station. She called it the “sahl” train, but most people in Coriol pronounced it “soul” train. Though most of them had never heard of the old Earth show that she had watched from the ship’s archives, it still always made her smile. She set the bag of robot parts down beside her. She saw now why there had been such an eclectic mix of professions on Ship 12-22. The delegation in charge of appeasing the Alorans had chosen humanity’s sacrifice carefully, sending people they didn’t need. Her passengers were expendable.

  She got off at the next station and switched lines, heading for the Health and Human Services District. Among the hospitals and clinics there was the Saras Employment Office. Though she’d never been there, she knew they knew who she was, and perhaps she could put in a word for her passengers there. Surely there was some work for them, somewhere.

  She stretched as she stood on the platform, holding her bag of robot parts. Her aches were getting worse.

  When Kaia rounded the edge of the building, she was shocked to see a line of dejected people that stretched around the edge of the Employment Office building. She walked past them and into the reception area. It was filled with people. The three rows of chairs were full, and the rest of the room was choked with people standing up. In the front was a counter with a desk behind it. At the desk, she saw a young man with an unruly shock of jet black hair. He glanced up at her, his feelings indiscernible behind a pair of dark glasses.