Guardians (Caretaker Chronicles Book 2) (14 page)

Though maneuvering while holding the stretcher
behind him was difficult, it wasn’t impossible, and Ethan thought it may even
be easier than trying to help her hobble down the slope had been. Ethan
breathed a sigh of relief when he saw, ahead, the last turn before the tunnel
opened out into the Stadium.

Only it wasn’t the last one. Rounding the turn,
he saw another; a sharp elbow in the passage that he didn’t remember coming
through when they went up.

It was so sharp, in fact, that they had a bit of
trouble getting the stretcher through it.

“You’d better not drop me,” Maggie growled,
oblivious to Ethan’s growing dread. Suddenly, the tunnel narrowed and the roof
slanted sharply down. They found themselves staring at another dead end.

“We’ve made a wrong turn,” Ethan said, trying to
keep his voice even. “We’ll have to backtrack.”

The cousins traded off with Ethan, making the
grueling climb back out much easier. A few meters back they saw a tunnel
smoothly joining the small dead end they’d just come from.

“Here’s where we must have gotten off track,”
Ndaiye said cheerily. “The Stadium is just down there.”

But what they found just down there was yet
another dead end. This tunnel ended in an outcropping of greenish flowstone.
Ethan realized that instead of one tunnel that led up and out, they had
wandered into a complex of spurs and tunnels that could go on for kilometers.
There was no way to know which one would lead to the Stadium and which would
lead to another dead end.

Panicked, they turned the stretcher around and
nearly ran back up the slope, hunting frantically for any sign of the tunnel
they’d originally come from.

“Go to the left!” Traore urged. Ethan complied.

“Are we supposed to be going up or down?” Ndaiye
asked, trying to get his bearings.

There was an uncomfortable silence before Ethan
spoke up. “I’m not sure,” he said, hitching the stretcher up a little higher.

“You mean to tell me that you guys got us lost
when we were fifty meters from the rest of the crew?” Maggie said,
disbelieving. “Some surveyors you are. You’re supposed to have some sense of
direction.”

“Not underground,” Traore reminded her. “We
signed on as topside surveyors. You were supposed to get us OUT of the mines,
remember?”

Maggie, for once, didn’t reply. Ethan glanced
back to see her digging in her pack, which she held on her stomach. She came
out with a notebook and pen and went to work on what looked like a map of the
tunnels.

They came to a fork and took another tunnel.
Ethan had a good feeling about it. It seemed familiar.

When their lights fell on the green flowstone at
the dead end of the tunnel, he knew why.

“We’re going in circles!” He said explosively.

“You’d better leave some breadcrumbs then,”
Maggie instructed, “something to show we’ve been down this tunnel already.”

Ethan carefully set his end of the stretcher on
the ground. Traore did the same. Each of them rifled through their packs, but
all they came up with were the nutrition bars, and Maggie refused to let them
use those.

“I didn’t mean literal breadcrumbs, you hobos.
You never know when you’re gonna need food. You can’t waste it like that.”

“We could use our ropes, string them behind us as
we go,” Ethan suggested, but Maggie refused again.

“Rope is too valuable too. Think of something
else.”

Ethan kicked at one of the hanging points of the
green flowstone formation. It broke off easily. He picked it up. Long and
thick, it was about three inches in diameter and tapered at the end where it
had dripped for centuries. It was like a giant pencil. He tested it against the
cavern wall. It left a broad white streak.

“How about this?” he asked.

“Now you’re talking.” Maggie seemed proud of him.

They backtracked, keeping a close eye on the
point where the tunnels joined and marking a big X on the walls of the tunnels
they found leading to dead ends.

In all, Ethan counted sixteen dead-end tunnels.
Their sloped floors coupled with the extra strain of carrying Maggie tired the
men quickly. Ethan’s mind spun with the realization that they had passed
another day since leaving the stadium, and he had no idea when or if these
tunnels would ever lead them back there.

Soon they came to a passageway where all the tunnels
were marked, and Ethan felt the old press of frustration. “We’ve been down
every tunnel.”

“Then it has to be back the way we came.”

The warren of tunnels wove together and crossed,
entangled like a pile of snakes. Sometimes they were going up, sometimes down,
sometimes an angling tunnel cut across another open passage and they had to
decide whether to follow the original one or embark down the new opening. Ethan
came to a point when he couldn’t even remember what the last turn looked like,
much less the original tunnel that led out of the stadium.

His arms and back ached from carrying the
stretcher. His mind spun from the endless maze of tunnels and from the dark and
mixing shadows.

As they tried yet another tunnel, Ethan froze.
Far away, he heard the sound of his name.

“Do you hear that?”

The rest of the small party stilled to listen,
too, then excitement shone on their faces.

“I hear it! They’re looking for us!”

“We’re here!” They began to shout, calling with
all their energy.

The voices responded, louder and more
enthusiastically. Ethan recognized them as Collins and Brynn and held still,
trying to determine where they were coming from.

Unfortunately, the tunnels caught the voices and
tossed them around in a game of keep-away. He heard them one moment from the
tunnel on the left, the next from the one behind them. Just when he was giving
up hope, a light flickered in the tunnel just ahead.

“Here!” he yelled. “Collins! Over here!” Ethan
nearly ran toward the light, sliding on the downward sloping floor and fighting
for balance as he hauled the stretcher behind him.

And then he was looking into the bright beam of a
Maxlight. Collins reached out a hand and called, “They’re here! We got ‘em!”

***

They took a long rest back in the stadium. None
of them were eager to rush out into the darkness again. As they sat on the
stone floor, surrounded again by the sentinel formations around the room, the
crew worked to map the parts of the cave they’d seen so far. The keyhole
entrance, the crash site, the guano field, the Shark’s Mouth tunnel, the
Stadium. Ethan, Traore, and Ndaiye pitched in what they could remember of the
maze they’d just come from, with an occasional comment from Maggie. Her
contributions were sometimes helpful and sometimes simply commentary on their
incompetence.

Ethan didn’t care. He was glad to be out of the
tunnels and sitting among the little group in the big open cavern.

It was obvious that this wasn’t the kind of place
that you simply picked a direction and walked out of. They were going to have
to come up with some kind of coordinated plan just to survive, much less give
themselves any hope of actually getting out. Ethan said so.

Ndaiye had multiple ideas. “Maybe we could go
back to that high point and chip through the roof until we got to the surface?
Maybe we could find an underground river and follow it? Maybe we could go back
to the shaft we came down and climb out?”

“Good ideas” Ethan reined him in, “let’s look at
them one at a time, though.”

“What do you mean
good ideas
?” Jade’s
voice was challenging. “The surface is hundreds of feet up. And how do we know
where to chip? And what do we have to chip with? An underground river could as
easily go farther into the cave as go out, and there’s no way our scrawny ropes
will be long or strong enough to get us out the shaft, even if we had the
strength to climb it, which I doubt any of us has.”

“Hey,” Ndaiye teased, “speak for yourself.” He
flexed his biceps exaggeratedly in the dim light. Ethan admired his ability to
take Jade’s stinging criticism without offense.

Jade ignored him. “The only thing to do is to
investigate every tunnel we come to on a case by case basis. We can try to guess
what we’ll find, but caves are notoriously unpredictable.”

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.

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 another 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.