Stranded Justice (The Justice Trilogy Series Book 2)

by Steven L. Hawk

  Eli, for instance.

  He’d never been far from her thoughts since leaving Telgora months earlier. Ever since she’d been notified of the disappearance of the Agate, however, he was constantly there—a nagging awareness always at the front of her mind. The pain of his potential loss affected everything she did, tainted every decision she made. As a captain of a company of Shiale Rangers, she knew that wasn’t a good thing.

  The first week had been nearly impossible. The lack of information, coupled with the defense force policies that restricted the dissemination of information to those who were not family members had been enough to make her scream. Her man was lost, and because they weren’t married, she had no official right to know what was going on.

  One call to Eli’s father had changed that, though. Eli would have frowned upon using his father to pull strings, but Adrienne had no problem with it. There was a benefit to Eli’s dad being General Justice, leader of the entire defense force, and she hadn’t been afraid to use that benefit to her advantage. After all, it had resulted in her and her company being assigned to the newest Alliance battle cruiser, Minith Fist.

  She exited her quarters and turned left toward the forward observation area. Entering the large, open room, Adrienne ignored the observation portal that seemed to command everyone else’s attention. The giant view occupied the entire front wall of the observation area and offered a glimpse at the space surrounding the Minith Fist. She couldn’t understand the fascination that others seemed to have with the external view. It was like looking into a dark room; the blackness of space was broken up by the occasional streak of a passing star. The only reason she could fathom for standing and watching the space they passed through was that people were captured by the notion of what was happening outside the ship more than by anything they could physically see. If that was the case, she didn’t need a darkened view portal to help her imagine or understand what was taking place outside the agsel that covered their ship.

  Instead, Adrienne turned her attention to the large electronic board that covered the left wall of the observation area. It was filled with symbols and shortcuts that led to real information—information that could be selected, opened, and studied. Selecting the appropriate menus allowed those on board to track the status of their journey, check out any published updates—including those that might have come through about the lost Agate—and review the standing orders for all units. It was the first stop of her day and the final stop of her evening.

  She selected the “Mission Updates” section and scrolled to the selection for the Agate. As expected, there were no new updates posted. Everything was exactly as it had been the previous evening and would probably remain so unless the missing ship somehow reestablished comms or until the Minith Fist reached Cerbius.

  Adrienne sighed. Moved on.

  She read the orders for her own unit. No change there, either. Train in place, as directed by the local command structure.

  She shook her head and wondered how she’d fill her unit’s time today. There were only so many laps you could run around the ship. Only so much hand-to-hand, weapons preparation, and tactical studies that could be done inside a spaceship, even one the size of the Minith Fist.

  Adrienne was coming to understand what most war-bound armies and soldiers that went before her eventually learned. The calm that came before the storm was usually filled with routine, boring tasks separated by heavy doses of seemingly endless waiting.

  She stifled a sudden urge to punch a wall and turned away from the status board. Eli’s face floated unbidden across the sight line of her mind’s eye. She mentally pushed it away and thought about how best to occupy her time and her attention.

  She thought of the long run she’d done the previous day, eight laps around the perimeter of the ship. It had taken her three hours but had left her sufficiently exhausted—exhausted enough to sleep through most of the night. She stood on her toes and then bent into a crouch, testing her legs, and found them still strong.

  Another run it was, then. That would eat up a few hours.

  With that decided, she checked her watch and noted it was almost time for her company formation. She left the room and turned right toward the area that had been set aside for her rangers. It would take an hour for her sergeants and lieutenants to set their troops up with their own tasks and schedules.

  Then she’d run.

  After that, she’d think about how to use up the rest of her day.

  “One day at a time, Tenney,” she muttered. It was a well-used refrain that had helped her through many difficult periods of her life. First, when she’d been orphaned after a group of Minith raiders wiped out her village. Later, when she was placed in a new group home comprising similar orphans at the old Violent’s Prison—the place where she first met Eli Justice. Most recently, when she was working her way through those tough, grueling weeks of Alliance basic training, and then the Sift.

  This should be easy in comparison with those events, she told herself. You just have to wait . . . and wait . . . and wait.

  Chapter 23

  It was apparent to Eli that the old mothership had crash-landed at some point in the distant past. The forest around the mammoth structure had long ago reclaimed its territory immediately around and above the craft.

  The cracks in the hull and the off-kilter angle of the ship where it had impacted the planet’s surface were clear indications the landing had been an especially difficult one. He thought of the Agate and couldn’t help comparing the two crashes. The damage to the Alliance ship was much more extensive than that of the mothership, but the sheer size of this wreck made it remarkable in its own right. Fortunately for the Chih, the integrity of the hull was mostly intact and provided them with a defensible, permanent sanctuary, which—if their numbers were a fair measure—had allowed them to flourish.

  The initial introduction to the mass of Chih ended when each of the two thousand or so animals had a chance to offer its individual greeting. Eli had noted the crowd growing smaller and smaller and watched with keen interest as the Chih completed the ritual. They circled, then moved forward to greet him one-by-one with a leap or a lick, then rejoined the circle before trailing back to the mothership. He watched as the Chih entered the mothership through one of three slim cracks in the ship’s structure.

  After thirty minutes, a group of twenty or so Chih remained.

  Come, come, come!

  Enter, enter, enter!

  Waa, Waa, Waa.

  Except for the bit about the Waa, it was clear what he was being asked. The Chih wanted him to enter their home. A group of ten or so Chih circled, hopped, and wagged tail ahead of Eli. With regular looks back to be sure he was following, the group urged him toward the ship. Another, similarly sized group followed along behind. Eli felt an occasional pair of tiny paws as one of the trailing Chih leaped up and tapped him on the back of his legs, compelling him anxiously forward.

  At the direction and insistence of his tiny new friends, Eli was led to the largest rent in the ship’s hull. Eli reached out his hand and ran it across the pitted shell that had once been a mothership. He had never encountered agsel on a ship that was less than completely smooth. The roughness he felt pointed to a ship that had been sitting here for a long, long time.

  Enter, enter, enter!

  The gap was barely half a meter wide. Obviously more than wide enough for a five-pound Chih, but not quite wide enough for a suited Shiale Ranger. Eli poked his head into the crack and assessed the situation. The passage was roughly two meters in length, and it didn’t get any wider further in. Fortunately, it didn’t get any tighter, either. There were tendrils of plants encroaching into the gap and taking root in a bed of dirt that seemed several inches thick. The constant passage of tiny little paws seemed to be holding the jungle at bay, but the amount of soil buildup also pointed to an extended passage of time.

  How long has this ship been here? he asked.

  Come, come, come!

&n
bsp; I won’t fit through there, Eli replied, stepping back from the ship.

  The Chih at Eli’s feet looked at each other and seemed to be silently conferring among themselves. Apparently, they communicated with each other mentally, similar to the Telgorans and the Waa. It made Eli wonder just how many sentient races were capable of similar communication. And how did such a thing work? He assumed it had to do with brain frequencies but really had no clue. He made a mental note to ask Aank if he ever saw him again.

  Waa, Waa, Waa, the tiny furred creatures finally decided to communicate. They stood still on their four hind legs, the two in front raised, and stared up at Eli.

  What about the Waa? I don’t understand.

  Inside, inside, inside.

  The Waa are inside this ship?

  Yes, yes, yes.

  Eli was stunned at the revelation. Then again, the mothership hadn’t flown itself to Cerbius, so why not? It couldn’t be any crazier than a mass of tiny, six-legged, mind-speaking creatures that resembled dogs. Right?

  He sighed and made a decision.

  A minute later, and with the exception of his boots and his helmet—he wanted footwear and needed the ability to see—he had shed his entire suit. He stood in his one-piece undergarment and watched the Chih sniffing the stacked pieces of his PEACE armor. He hesitated briefly before reaching down to retrieve the Ginny and slinging the weapon over his right shoulder.

  He was as ready as he was likely to get, so he nodded to himself and told the Chih, Lead on. The announcement was met with a flurry of wagging tails and excited yips. Eli took that to mean they were pleased.

  He allowed the lead pack to enter, then squeezed into the gap behind them. Without the bulk of his armor, it was an easy, uneventful passage into the ship. He popped out of the far side and found himself in a corridor that extended left to right. The walls and floors were dingy and covered with greenish-yellow spots where some type of moss had taken root. The elements and the local fauna were obviously taking their toll on the ship.

  Accustomed to Waa design, Eli assumed the corridor circled the entire perimeter of the ship. The pack turned to the right and Eli followed.

  Groups of Chih lined the corridor and watched as he passed through their home. Most gave a tail wag, but one very small, brave Chih darted out to give the back of his shin a quick lick. Eli gave a surprised yelp, cringed, and stepped quickly away from the touch. Having them lick his legs with armor in place hadn’t tickled. It wasn’t an altogether unpleasant feeling, but it was completely unexpected. His reaction to the touch was obviously noted by the pack, however, because no other Chih stepped forward to repeat the greeting.

  The wall moss disappeared as they moved further away from the crack where he’d entered, but the dirt layer covering the floor didn’t diminish. He felt as if he was moving through a perfectly carved cave system instead of a Waa ship.

  The Chih led him past open doorways and Eli slowed his step to look inside. He noted several piles of shredded cloth mixed with leaves and what seemed like pieces of foam like you might find stuffing mattresses or chairs. The piles were obviously nests where the Chih slept.

  A thin sound from a far bed captured Eli’s attention. He switched his helmet to thermal and immediately saw several tiny bodies wriggling among the cloth and leaf pile. Babies. One of the tiny creatures crested the lip of the pile and rolled forward out of the nest. Eli switched his view back to night vision and gasped at the sight.

  The tiny pup was no larger than his thumb, but it was obviously a tiny Chih. Eli had a sudden desire to move closer and get a better view of the tiny thing and its siblings, but his thoughts were interrupted by the now-familiar call.

  Come, come, come.

  Eli held back to take a final look at the tiny pup and felt a brush against his right foot. He looked down and saw a long-haired, black-and-white Chih enter the room. The Chih padded over to the tiny baby, and using her front two paws, eased it gently back into the nest. It then jumped into the nest and circled the litter once before settling down around the group.

  Eli watched in wonder as the tiny things wriggled for position and latched onto one of several teats being offered. The mother nudged each into place with her nose, then looked up at Eli and wagged her tail. A flood of warmth flooded through the ranger’s being at the sight. He easily recognized the love of a mother for her offspring. The mother Chih didn’t communicate with him directly, but he somehow knew his presence was welcome and that she was proud to show him her brood. It was one of the most intense moments that Eli had ever experienced.

  Come, come, come!

  Eli didn’t want to leave but knew that he must. There was work to do and he had to return to his team before sunrise, which was only a few hours away now, he realized with a glance at the time on his HUD.

  Enjoy your family, he projected across the room. He didn’t know if the Chih were capable of individual communication, or if they operated on a mass-mind basis, like the Telgorans, but he needed to send the message. Thank you for sharing them with me.

  The mother wagged her tail again and issued a short, near-silent bark. Whuff.

  Eli smiled, turned, and moved to catch up to the lead pack that was waiting just ahead. All their eyes were on him, and all their tails were gently wagging. When he reached them, they turned and set off once again along the corridor.

  Eli followed closely behind. He didn’t stop at any more doorways but strained to look inside each of them as he passed. He couldn’t determine what all the rooms had originally been designed for, but they had all been converted by the Chih into living space. Every one had multiple nests. Like the first, a few others also had one or more litters of tiny Chih moving about inside. The little critters were certainly prolific in their reproductive efforts.

  The group came to an intersection and turned left, moving toward the center of the ship. Most of the doors they passed were closed, and Eli wondered what was inside. Opening the doors was obviously beyond the capabilities of the Chih, so it was likely that they hadn’t been opened in . . . decades? Centuries? How long had this ship been here, Eli wondered? It was a mystery he hoped to have answered soon, perhaps by the Waa that these Chih wanted him to meet.

  They reached another corridor, and this time they took a right. Eli took careful note of the turns they made in case he had to find his way back. They had been moving for nearly fifteen minutes, so they had to be near the center of the ship by now. Eli spied a mass of Chih ahead. As Eli and his group approached, the mass began moving to either side, clearing a path in the corridor. His pack moved into the offered pathway and continued on for another twenty meters. Then the path made a left-hand turn and disappeared into a wide, open portal that was surrounded by Chih. Apparently, they had reached their destination.

  When they reached the doorway, the group of Chih leading Eli stopped. Their tails were now still, and they stepped slowly backward until their haunches touched the corridor wall. They left an open pathway into the room, and Eli knew what was expected.

  He hesitated only a moment before moving forward.

  When the ranger stepped into the room, he immediately noted a row of a dozen or so low tables lined up side-by-side along the far wall. He moved toward the row of tables slowly and noticed that each was fully encased in an individual, glasslike tube. He cocked his head and tried to make sense of what he was seeing. Failed.

  He took another step toward the tables. Then another.

  He reached the nearest enclosure and looked inside. The glass was covered in a thick layer of dust, and Eli reached out to clear it away. He wiped his hand along length of the tube, starting at the near end. At the far end he pushed the dust to the floor. After clearing the dirt away, he took a deep breath, then looked inside.

  The Chih had been telling the truth. The large, green head Eli saw inside the tube left no doubt.

  Using the sleeve of his undergarment, Eli cleared away more of the dust, so he could get a better view.

  It was
a male Waa.

  He was lying under the glass, wearing a simple gray robe. His eyes were closed and his arms were at his side. He seemed peaceful, asleep, but unless the Waa had capabilities that Eli didn’t know about, the thick coating of dust on the tube denied that possibility.

  This Waa was well preserved, but he was deceased.

  Eli went down the line of tubes and cleared enough dust from each one to verify that all twelve of the tables were similarly occupied.

  Waa, Waa, Waa, cried the Chih.

  * * *

  Eli awoke at dawn and began the long climb down the tree trunk toward the jungle floor below. Halfway down, he spied his team already up and ready to start the day. They were no doubt wondering where he’d disappeared to after leaving the previous evening. He had returned from his visit to the Waa mothership three hours earlier, but unwilling to chance getting fired upon by a nervous Minith trooper, he’d decided to spend the time sleeping in his usual fashion—suit-locked to a tree.

  He jumped down the last two meters and landed on the jungle floor without sound. His eyes searched around, looking for the tiny Chih he knew were about. A dozen or so of the little creatures had accompanied him into the jungle when he’d said his goodbyes hours earlier. Without a glance or a word, though, they had disappeared silently and quickly into the undergrowth.

  As crude as their mind-speak was, their stealth abilities were off the charts. Despite cycling through every one of the suit’s detection systems, he couldn’t pick up a single sign from any of the Chih who’d left the mothership with him. It was as if they had vanished. Considering the largest of them weighed no more than six pounds, and they didn’t show much in the way of offensive ability, being able to disappear was a pretty good trick to have, he decided. It helped explain how they survived and flourished.

  It seemed clear to Eli that the Chih had arrived on Cerbius with the Waa aboard the crashed mothership. Eli didn’t know exactly how long they’d been marooned here, because the Chih didn’t seem to measure time. All they could tell him in response to his questions was long, long, long. The layer of dust and the general disrepair of the ship, however, indicated that hundreds, if not thousands, of years had passed.