Guardians (Caretaker Chronicles Book 2)

by Josi Russell

  Collins spoke up. “What about air flow? We could try to feel if there is any air coming in from anywhere.”

  Maggie spoke up. “That’s a good idea. Air would be a giveaway.”

  “Okay, then, we search for air. Then we follow it.” Ethan liked having a plan, even if it was only a partial one. “And from now on we don’t take the whole team into a place until we know it’s leading somewhere.” He glanced at Maggie’s leg, swollen from the strain she had put on it earlier. “We’ll send a forward team to navigate the possibilities, then they’ll come back and lead the rest of us.”

  There were murmurs of approval.

  Collins cleared his throat. “Listen, I’ve got to—I need to tell you all something.”

  “We know you love us, man.” Ndaiye threw an arm around Collins, but Collins ducked out of it.

  “I’m serious, Ayo.” The tone of his voice quieted them. He looked around. “I don’t—I’m not really supposed to say anything. But I think you should know that we really need to get out of here.”

  Maggie was watching him with narrowed eyes. “That’s not news, kid. What are you really trying to say?”

  “Listen, I don’t know exactly how far off course we are, or where this cave is in relation to the Yynium deposit, but I do know that in a few days Saras is going to start blasting new tunnels in under here, to that deposit. It wouldn’t matter if the pilot hadn’t changed course, but when we crashed, we were headed right to the area near Saras’s land. He’s starting there and coming under the Karst Mountains. If we’re still down here,” he trailed off, then spoke with intensity, “we may be buried alive, or worse.”

  There was general uneasiness. Jade spoke, her voice rough and accusing. “How do you know this?”

  Collins ducked his head. “I got an extra 500 scrip to come on this trip and erase your Suremaps to delay getting the topography reports to the UEG. I got about half of them done throughout the day while we were out there, and I was going to do the rest when we got back to the warehouse.

  A stunned silence settled over the group. Finally, Maggie spoke.

  “Bet you won’t fall for somethin’ like that again.”

  Ethan was surprised at her leniency. He saw Collins flash her a grateful smile. They all understood the power of Saras and the pull of scrip.

  Chapter 10

  Reagan leaned back in his chair. Four days ago, he’d placed the bases on alert. Since then, the alien ship had continued slowly orbiting Minea, lazily arcing around the planet in what Reagan thought was either a search pattern or a systematic analysis of the planet’s defenses. He kept his eyes on the screen, where he had a real-time view of the craft circling his planet.

  The top and bottom of the enormous armored rig were like two metal bowls, and there was vertical plating between them to make a wide bridge in the middle. The ship could be used, Reagan guessed, for transport or for war. There were certainly enough guns mounted around the top and bottom to make it a serious threat. There was no indication of the size or shape of the aliens inside.

  He wanted to give the order that would trigger the unmanned orbital defenses to fire on it and blast it off his screen. But there were protocols for this, he reminded himself. Watch and wait was the first stage. Being on a planet in an intergalactic society was like living on a city street. You couldn’t go blasting everyone who drove by, not if you didn’t want more trouble showing up.

  So, he was watching. Every day. And he was waiting. This morning, they had moved to the second stage: making contact. They had tried hailing the ship on the usual frequencies, but there had been no answer. It simply looped around the planet over and over, sometimes changing position, but coming no closer to the surface and making no aggressive moves. As far as he knew, its passengers could be on a vacation, watching Minea like humans watched the sea. There was no need for panic yet.

  But Reagan admitted that the ship was unnerving. More so because he had seen the footage of the Aloran ship that had appeared decades ago and transported humans off the planet.

  He reminded himself of the fact that the Aloran ship came before the orbital defense system they had now and before the Minean fleet he was in charge of.

  He pulled his eyes from the easy sweep of the new alien ship around the planet and looked out the window. On the liftstrip outside sat Champion, one of the six battleships that made up the bulk of the Minean fleet. It was his best warship, and he had brought it here to Lumina from Flynn, the central settlement and the only one controlled completely by the UEG instead of a corporation. He’d left two battleships there in Flynn and covered the other three corners of the Minean settlements by stationing the remaining battleships in Minville, Sato and Coriol. The battleships were a motley assortment, ranging from dated to cutting edge. All were on high alert, ready to make battle any moment if necessary. Each city had two Colony Defense ships as well, smaller craft that belonged to the companies. They were part of his fleet and all were on standby, with full crews at the ready.

  Reagan again thought briefly about transferring to Flynn to be nearer the central UEG headquarters, but his routine checks here in Lumina had suddenly taken on a new urgency, and he wanted to finish them before anything happened. He wanted to know that the defenses were ready to engage, even way out here.

  So he was staying in Lumina, completing his checks. For now he would wait, continue to hail the alien ship, and try to remain calm. He was still calmer than the UEG back on Earth. He’d reported the ship to them and they were nearly panicking. Ironic, he thought, since they weren’t the ones right under the thing. So far, only a few people here on Minea knew what had crossed in front of Lucidus. If word got out that there was an alien ship above the planet he was not certain he could keep everyone else here calm.

  ***

  Galo rubbed one set of his hands together, trying to focus. An irritating buzz kept leaping through one of his communications lines, breaking his train of thought. It was unlike anything he’d heard before. His first assistant thought it might be magnetic resistance causing feedback on the line. Finally, Galo switched that line off, quieting the buzz so he could concentrate on the few ships he had left and where they were supposed to be this cycle. It was challenging keeping track of his shipments while orbiting the little blue planet and searching for the life signs of the escaped Vala.

  Too many of Galo’s merchant ships swayed in their docks back near his home world, useless. They should be flung across the galaxy, delivering goods, but without the Vala, they would go nowhere. Though a few Vala remained, most of them were gone, slipped out through a faulty cell door on this very ship.

  This was the Cliprig, his headquarters. He lived here, did all his business from here. He cursed himself for keeping so many of the Vala in one place: the slave quarters here on the Cliprig. But this was the base ship, and he could transfer them to his fleet ships as needed so easily from here. It had seemed like the most efficient process.

  He tried to comfort himself: There were still twenty-five Vala children, which meant twenty-five working ships. Customers were still coming, but soon they would be hearing that the Asgre were not delivering on time. Galo cursed and paced the bridge of the Cliprig, clasping and unclasping his two sets of hands in a rhythmic pattern. His shipments were late, his customers angry. He could no longer pretend that there was nothing amiss.

  He would find them. They were somewhere on this planet and he would find them and set right his fleet.

  He checked his panels. Today’s major shipment was being delivered to the Salchor: a shipload of diamond drives that they’d been too patient on already. The Salchor were not known for their patience. He glanced out the window of his office. His assistants, Kal and Uumbor, were joking near the far wall.

  Galo walked to the door and barked them, “What have you been doing? We have no time to waste! Get back to your consoles and get the Salchor their diamond drives!”

  Customers came to them because things needed to get from one place to anoth
er quickly, and space was huge. Luckily, their ships could travel about it with ease.

  At least they could before the Vala had escaped and crippled half his fleet. He needed at least one Vala child per ship, and in his most profitable days he’d had two per ship. Vala could move multiple ships at a time, but only to the same place they were physically going. It did him no good to have fifty ships and twenty-five possible destinations. He needed the flexibility of sending each ship to a separate location.

  Galo knew the customers wouldn’t wait. He was scrambling to fill all his orders with the limited number of ships he had. For the tenth time today, he cursed the Vala. Though they made it possible for his ships to travel faster than any other merchants, they were trouble and they always had been.

  He was the best shipper and the best haggler in the known universe. When something needed to be delivered, he was the one people called.

  He thought of the call that had brought him here, to this far corner of the galaxy. It was several cycles ago back at his home world, Ondyne II. He had been on the Cliprig, pacing and cursing the escaped Vala when his attention was drawn to an incoming transmission.

  Galo had connected to it and immediately Nissot had appeared on the screen. Nissot was of the Fel race, small and stupid. Galo had worked with them before. Their loads were big, they fought to pay little, and they were always changing their minds mid-shipment. Galo reached for the button to hang up the call, but the other creature’s voice stopped him.

  “From what I’ve heard, you’re in no position to hang up on me,” the translator warbled. Galo hesitated. “You’ll need loyal customers like us,” Nissot said, his voice low and wheedling. “I know others who are not even calling you right now, because they can’t afford to have their shipments delayed.”

  Delayed. The word made Galo sick. To some it meant a minor inconvenience. To him it meant angry customers and thousands of lost rhu. It meant apologizing and pleading and promising. It meant lost respect. He hated delayed.

  Galo pulled his attention back to the grainy picture on the screen. Nissot was continuing, “We have two tanks of qeltra to deliver to Calfa V,” the Fel said, “and we are willing to pay 20,000 rhu to get it there.”

  “20,000 rhu? That is easily a 30,000 load. I couldn’t possibly do it for less.”

  Nissot shook his head. “Well, I am sorry to hear that. I suppose we’ll have to go with someone else. I had heard that your operation was struggling. I’ll pass on the information that you’re doing fine and are not interested in retaining customers.”

  Galo saw Nissot reach for the button to terminate their connection. He felt the old surge of challenge that made him love his work.

  “Wait,” he said. Nissan’s hand paused midair and he peered at Galo.

  Galo’s mind turned over the possibilities. Two months ago he could have sent a windcraft to make this run. But he had only three working windcraft at present: too few to spare one all the way to Calfa V for 20,000 rhu. Without the Vala, his ships were barely faster than light, and it would take decades.

  But, Galo thought as he checked his screens, he had a skybarge passing the Fel home world in two days, traveling to a planet within a day’s journey from the Calfa system. If there was room for the tanks on that ship, it would make that journey slightly more profitable and keep a customer happy.

  “I may be able to do it,” Galo said, consciously calming his desperation and putting on a smile, “because you are an important customer.” Nissot straightened almost imperceptibly. “I could get them there within twenty-two cycles for—” He tapped his desk thoughtfully, “for twenty-five.”

  There was a pause, then Nissot caved. “All right. But they have to be kept below the ice point for the entire journey or they will spoil.”

  That wasn’t a problem—the skybarge had an ice hull room for that exact reason—but Galo saw another thousand rhu in the deal for the special request, and tacked on yet another thousand for the trouble of checking a negative ice point shipment every six hours. Almost without trying, he’d worked it up to 27,000 rhu.

  There was a reason he was the best shipper in the universe.

  He reached for the disconnect button, but Nissot spoke again. “Your enterprise is . . . struggling, Galo.”

  Galo tensed, wishing he had charged Nissot 28,000. “There is no reason for concern.”

  Nissot made the Fel sound of amusement, a gurgling that caused Galo to think of strangulation. “The pod of Vala I saw many cycles ago would suggest otherwise.”

  Galo fixed his gaze on the screen. He spoke slowly. “What did you say?”

  Nissot was enjoying this. “I said, as you are the only Vala master in existence, the free-traveling pod of Vala I saw would suggest that either you have become suddenly diplomatic and released them or that they have escaped you. I doubt it’s the former.”

  Galo’s mind hummed with fury and frustration. “Where did you see them? When?”

  Nissot threw his limbs wide in mock surprise. “This information is valuable to you? You wish to know where I saw them?”

  Galo bit back the urge to curse. The fact that the Fel hadn’t bothered to contact him when he saw them didn’t matter now. “I would be most grateful to know, Nissot. Most grateful.”

  “How grateful? Grateful enough to take my shipment for—” Nissot considered quickly, “23,000?”

  Galo would have agreed to much lower. He had to get the Vala back. He closed his first set of eyelids and swept a hand across his face, fingers fluttering: an Asgre sign of respect. He did feel respect. Nissot was driving a good bargain.

  “Yes. 23,000 if you can tell me where you saw them.”

  Nissot leaned back, growing smaller on the screen. “I can do even better. I can tell you where I saw them drop out of their sleeping state.”

  Galo gripped the edge of the console, desperate to know. If the Vala had dropped out of their sleeping state, they would still be near the place Nissot had seen them. There was a recuperative time after they traveled during which they could not use their gift. His voice was strange to him as he heard himself croak, “Where?”

  Nissot gurgled again. “An inconsequential planet called Minea. A little colony of some species or another. Your Vala were heading straight for it. I’d guess they’ll find it much more comfortable than your Ondyne II or your slave quarters.”

  “Do you have coordinates?” Galo clasped all his hands behind his back to keep them from shaking with excitement.

  “Sending them now,” Nissot said, his voice smug. Galo knew he would brag about how he had skinned 4,000 rhu off the greatest shipper in the universe. As Galo punched in the coordinates, though, and felt the Cliprig begin to shudder into warp speed, he didn’t care. Once he had the Vala back, he’d have his reputation restored soon enough.

  By the time he disconnected the transmission, Galo had been well on his way here, to the inconsequential planet Nissot had called Minea.

  And now, orbiting the planet, Galo felt his frustration spike again. Though he hadn’t seen them yet, they couldn’t have gotten far. They had to be here somewhere, and Galo would find them.

  Chapter 11

  The forward team consisted of Ethan, Collins, and Ndaiye. They began by inspecting the tunnel next to the Shark’s Mouth and then moving clockwise around the Stadium, checking behind the stalagmites for yawning black holes that might lead them out. At each, they stopped and walked a few feet inside, focusing and trying to feel any air circulating.

  Ethan felt it now, the stillness of the cave. Its air was damp and cool. It tasted of dirt and minerals. At every new opening he willed the air to move, a breeze to move past them, but every one held the same static gloom.

  It was nearly noon when they sat down near one of the gaps to rest and eat a few bites of nutrition bar. Only Ethan had brought his pack. He was carrying food and water for Collins and Ndaiye, so he pulled out their bars, tossing them each one.

  They’d worked their way halfway around the huge room,
and when Ethan looked across the center of it, he could see the rest of the crew eating, too. Ethan sat down and leaned against the outer wall next to Ndaiye. Collins settled himself at the base of one of the stalagmites across from them. Ethan saw Collins’s hands silhouetted against the glow of his shoulder lights. They were trembling violently.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. “You’re shaking.”

  Collins looked up in surprise, then stuck his hands in his pockets. “I’m fine.” Then, glancing back toward the group, he amended, “Actually, I’m freezin’.”

  The coveralls had been doing such a good job keeping him warm that Ethan had forgotten how really chilly it was down here. The rudimentary thermometer on his pack read twelve and a half degrees Celsius—much too cold to be comfortable for long.

  “Turn up your Everwarms,” Ndaiye said.

  “They’re dead.”

  “What?”

  “They’re dead. I woke up this morning and the batteries were out.” There was a defensive edge in his voice. “They’re solar powered, you know. They’re all going to go dead if we don’t get out of here pretty soon.”

  Ethan could tell that Collins had let this go too long. They were going to have to get him warmed up. He pulled a small fuel brick out of his pack and broke a piece off. He laid the piece on the floor by Collins.

  “We’ll let this burn a few minutes, just to get you a little warmed up.”

  Collins, whose shoulders were now shaking as well, nodded.

  The fuel brick started and let off a warm glow. Collins looked at Ethan gratefully and scooted close to it, holding out his hands.

  Chewing on the salty nutrition bar, Ethan wondered how long the heat brick would burn, how many bricks they had altogether, and how long it would be until the warmth of his own coveralls faded.

  Sharp smoke from the burning brick snapped Ethan from his thoughts. It burned in his throat and eyes. The smoke simply hung thick in the still air of the cave. Ndaiye, coughing, stood and moved away.