Angel Mine

by Vijaya Schartz

  Acielon came up behind her. “No ship ever landed safely before.”

  “None?” Fianna shuddered. Tarkan knew more about this planet than she did.

  Sheba heeled at her feet. Her black pelt rippled and shivered, sending droplets in all direction. “Sheba not like rain.”

  “I know, girl. But it’s just water. It won’t hurt you.”

  Acielon smiled. With a flick of his hand, he expanded an invisible umbrella above their heads. “Is this better?”

  Fianna glanced back at him and swallowed a curse about his timing. “Thanks. But you could have done this before we got completely soaked.”

  “Oh!” His turquoise eyes rounded and his dark brow furrowed. “Azurans love the rain. Don’t you?”

  She shrugged. “Not especially, no.”

  No wonder the Alliance feared the natives and tried to destroy them. They were downright freaky, appearing out of thin air, exuding pheromones, speaking to animals, reading minds, ordering the plants to make way, and the rain not to fall on them. Weird... and so cool.

  She set her eye software to infrared and scanned the clearing. No significant heat signature, other than cooling engines. No body heat except for a few small rodents in the drenched grass.

  Fianna adjusted her software and stared at the trampled grass. Barely perceptible footprints led toward the hill. At least a dozen sets. Tarkan had brought the entire squad.

  “There’s no one here.” Fianna motioned toward the slope. “It seems they all went up hill, but why?”

  Acielon stilled and closed his eyes as if meditating then opened them. “They are inside the sacred cave.”

  How did he do that? For reasons she could not explain, Fianna trusted his words. He didn’t seem the type to set a trap. “Good. How far is that? How long before they return?”

  “On foot, they won’t be back for quite a while. They might even want to spend the night there... if, like you, they do not enjoy the rain.”

  “Great. That gives me plenty of time to check their ships.”

  She marched toward the Monalisa’s bulky black hull. “The belly ramp is still down. They are not expecting company.”

  Acielon frowned. “Why not check the other ship first?”

  “Too new and too fancy.” She lied. “This one is used to frequent repairs and probably carries more spare parts.”

  She climbed up the ramp of the Monalisa. Tarkan’s old ship. She’d been onboard many times before... a lifetime ago. She reached the hatch and worked the manual handle. Locked. She drew her machete and pried the titanium blade into the seam of the metal lock, in the thin space between the hatch and the hull. She felt the soft seal, levered the blade. The door popped open.

  Apparently, Tarkan never bothered to fix that lock. Too arrogant to think anyone would dare break into his property. He was feared in the slums of her youth. But Fianna wasn’t afraid of him. She knew him well. Down to his hidden vices and weaknesses, like gambling and nubile girls.

  Fianna stepped inside, ahead of Sheba and Acielon. A strange glow filtered along the corridors. It emanated from the command center. Fianna gasped as she stepped onto the deck. Every console, screen, panel, conduit and viewer was cocooned in a thick block of translucent gel that glowed and provided ambient light.

  “By the frozen hells of Laxxar! They knew about the weird EMP shield. They came prepared.” She turned to Acielon. “Can their electronic systems still work?”

  He raised his shoulders, shaking his head. “In space, maybe, but not on Azura. The life force emanating from the planet prevents it.”

  Yet, Fianna’s internal software, encased in live tissue, still functioned. Did the thick gel provide similar cushioning? “They must have back up engines that can land and take off without batteries or electronics.”

  Sheba sniffed around and wrinkled her nose. “Stinky ship.”

  Fianna smelled the stale air laden with funky fumes. “It’s a mix of body odor and low-tech engine fuel, Sheba.”

  Acielon looked around with intense curiosity, craning his neck and staring at gel-encased electronics.

  “You’ve never seen the inside of a ship?”

  He shook his head. “Not an intact one.”

  Fianna sat on a glowing padded box and sighed. “Even if I repair my pitiful bucket of charred bolts, with its gutted hull and fried circuits, the electronics will just fry again when I pass through the shield on the way up, and I’ll fall back to the surface.”

  Besides, she could never repair her ship in the short time she had. Her brother, back on Byzantium-5, could not wait. The surgeons only had a limited window to perform the delicate surgery on her brother’s spine, and restore the use of his legs.

  Each passing week reduced the chances of success. But the surgical facility required full payment in advance. Fianna would never forgive herself, if she didn’t get the credits in time. Her brother might never walk again. He would spend the rest of his life in a chair... or wearing an exoskeleton.

  She raked back her short hair. “I’ll have to borrow this ship to get back home.”

  Acielon raised his brow. “I suggest using the shiny one instead.”

  She glanced up at him. “Why? This one is familiar.”

  He inclined his head. “But this ship holds many bad memories for you.”

  “What did I tell you about reading my mind?” She regretted lashing out. Acielon wasn’t the cause of her troubles. Raised in the slums, she could read people, and he was not a bad sort.

  “I did not pry.” He said in earnest. “I sense the energy on this ship makes you sad.”

  “Yes, it does.” Why was she talking to that native? A waste of time. Even if he could help, she couldn’t afford to trust him... although she liked him. “I thought you valued honesty. And here you are, suggesting I steal a luxury yacht?”

  He stared at her, eyes wide. “Steal?”

  She paused. Was he pulling her leg? No. He really didn’t know the word. She sighed. “Stealing is taking what doesn’t belong to you.”

  His brow furrowed. “Belong?”

  “Yes. What someone else bought with their own credits. Don’t you understand the concept of credits and property?”

  “Oh, that...” He nodded. “I heard about it. We do not use credits on Azura.”

  Strange culture. “How do you trade without credits?”

  “There is an abundance of resources. We share everything the planet provides, and everyone is welcome to use whatever they need.”

  “Well, I’ll be...” She did not finish the sentence, remembering he did not approve of swearing. She couldn’t even imagine what his society might be like.

  “Do you want me to go to the cave and see what they are doing?”

  Fianna smiled. Acielon might prove useful after all. “Would you?”

  “Of course.” He shimmered then vanished in a flapping of wings, creating a feathery breeze.

  Fianna shook her head. No wonder the Alliance felt threatened by their abilities and their ideologies. Something about Acielon made her want to trust him. She wished she could.

  * * *

  Tarkan followed the narrow gullet, deeper and deeper into the cave, down toward the crystal. He wiped sweat from his brow. The temperature and humidity rose steadily as they progressed into the depths, but he didn’t mind the discomfort.

  Soon the passage opened upon a vast, luminous cavern. Giant blue crystals soared from the surrounding rock. Clear hexagonal pillars crisscrossed at odd angles throughout the space, like inside a giant geode. The crystal glowed in luminous turquoise hues, bathing the cave in an eerie light, and hummed in strange harmonies.

  Tarkan stopped and stared in wonder. He would die a happy man, swimming in credits. He heard a flapping of wings and felt a breeze on his sweaty face. He glanced up. “What was that?”

  Kong shrugged. “It’s a cave. Must be some local bats.”

  The Dragons spread out, staring at the crystal with open mouths.

  “Why does
it glow?” A woman with tattoos on her face blinked into the gleaming luminosity. “Is it radioactive or something?”

  Tarkan shook his head. “Not at all. Quite the opposite. It’s supposed to have soothing properties.”

  A short, stocky man scratched his thick black hair. “Is this the only cave?”

  “No.” Tarkan smiled. “According to the Intel Kid Hacker provided, there are thousands of caves like it on the planet, and I have their locations. Imagine... a piece of this crystal the size of my fist can power a spaceship for a thousand cycles.”

  Kong emitted a long whistle. “Wow! There is a gazillion tons of the stuff right here.”

  “Exactly.” Tarkan couldn’t help the pride in his voice.

  Kong frowned. “If the Alliance knew about this, why didn’t they exploit this treasure themselves?”

  Tarkan scoffed. “They tried.”

  Kong cast him a sly, sideways look. “What happened?”

  “They went to war against the planet and they lost.” Tarkan shrugged. Their loss, his gain. “But that was over a century ago. Since then, we perfected new ways to fool the weird planetary EMP shield.”

  Kong grimaced. “Isn’t the Alliance going to figure it out as well, and come back en force?”

  “Not a chance.” Tarkan congratulated himself for his cleverness. “Kid Hacker erased all that information from their archives. We are the only ones who know about the crystal, its properties as a power source, and the location of all the caves. Only we know how to work around the planetary shield.”

  The Dragons nodded their satisfaction. Some grinned, others still gaped.

  “So,” Tarkan straightened his frame and raised his voice. “We can harvest the crystal, sell it at whatever price we set, and if we keep our mouths shut about this planet and its booby traps, we’ll never have any competition.”

  Silence fell on the group. He had their attention.

  Tarkan glared at his Dragons. “The first one who tells anyone about this will have to deal with me.” He pulled a blade and caressed the black edge discolored by a lethal venom.

  The Dragons nodded. They all knew what he meant and they feared him more than anyone or anything.

  Kong narrowed his gaze. “What about the natives?”

  Tarkan scratched his head. “They are a weird bunch. There are legends about their supernatural powers. Some say they can sprout wings and fly.”

  Kong rounded his eyes. “Really?”

  “But apparently, they have no technology and do not consider individuals or small groups a threat in any way. They only go to war when an invading army attacks their planet. And these armies rely upon electronic devices for their ship drives, life-support, and communications.”

  Kong nodded. “That’s how the Alliance lost the war.”

  Tarkan leaned back on his heels, thumbs in his belt. “You have to love being the little guy with all the right information.”

  Kong narrowed his eyes upon Tarkan. “What about Kid Hacker? He knows. Where is he?”

  “He didn’t make it.” Tarkan lowered his head, feigning sadness. “He got caught in the explosion that destroyed the prison of Byzantium-5 when I escaped.”

  “Could he have survived?”

  Tarkan shook his head. “The last glimpse I had of him, a heavy metal beam fell across his back, then the ceiling dropped and buried him, and everything went up in flames.”

  “Too bad.” Kong’s voice choked. “He deserved his share. There would have been plenty for him, too.”

  “Yeah. This kid had awesome skills. His sister was smart to pay for his very useful education. I’m going to miss him.” Tarkan swallowed hard and averted his face then pretended to wipe his eyes. “I practically raised that kid from a pup.”

  The Dragons nodded sadly. They all liked the kid, they’d known him since childhood in the slums of Byzantium-5.

  Tarkan cleared his voice. “Well, when the rain lets up, we’ll bring the rest of the tools, the shovels and the wheelbarrows, and we’ll start filling up our cargo holds with the precious merchandise.”

  Kong planted both fists on his hips. “How do you suggest we cut that hard crystal without lasers?”

  “Cavemen shaped rock with primitive tools. So can we.” Tarkan pulled a carbon-point pick from his belt. “I said it would make us rich, not that it would be easy.” He hacked at a large crystal beam. It rang like a bell. His pick didn’t even make a dent.

  Kong laughed. “You heard the boss. Roll up your sleeves and start chopping. Shape and size don’t matter. Even the smallest shard is worth a fortune.”

  Tarkan smiled as he hit the luminous blue rock. The show of muscle was just to make a point. Teach them to work hard for their credits, just for now. Tomorrow, he’d bring the explosives and make a short work of plundering the crystal. Soon, they’d all live like kings.

  Chapter Three

  Acielon loved the caves. The crystal made him want to hum with it. He leaned upon a hexagonal beam, and caressed it, enjoying the harmonic vibration. A smooth lump of crystal detached itself from the surface of the beam like a bubble, and floated into his hand. The flat, polished gemstone fit just right in his palm.

  He refrained from making any sound as he pocketed the crystal. He didn’t want the outworlders to detect his presence. After all, he was spying on them. The idea seemed oddly exciting. As he observed them, however, his disgust for them increased.

  He could not believe these louts had outsmarted the planetary defenses, even less that they planned to take away the crystal. Judging by their slow progress, it would take months to fill their cargo holds.

  Acielon ventured into reading their minds and recoiled. They remembered too much violence. These people had no respect for life. They helped and protected each other like the families described in his antique books, but they would gladly kill anyone who stood between them and what they coveted.

  Acielon especially disliked their leader, Tarkan, the man with a long scar across his left cheek. He walked with the graceful ease of a jungle predator, and his eyes shone like dark polished stones. He carried around him an aura of self-assurance, strength and authority, like a dark version of an Avenging Angel in Azura’s legions.

  But worse than that, Tarkan carried in his mind the image of a woman. A tall, thin, very young woman with long blond hair and an angelic smile. He called her Monalisa... like the black ship in the clearing. The lovely face smiled at him, and there was no mistaking the smile.

  Cut the hair short, add a few cycles of maturity and sass, and it was Fianna. The same Fianna Acielon wished belonged to him. Belonged? What a novel idea, oh so wrong, and yet it felt so right.

  As he focused on Tarkan, a toxic feeling flooded Acielon’s chest. It squeezed his heart in a vise and made it difficult to breathe. He’d never felt like this before.

  Why did Tarkan call Fianna Monalisa? He used her, made her cry with his cruel games, betrayed her with other young girls, forced her to his will, threatening to hurt her little brother if she didn’t obey. The wicked man still missed her, though, and believed that despite their horrible history and their break up cycles ago, he could win her back.

  Acielon wanted to hurt Tarkan for what he had done to Fianna in the past. Was this what it felt like to hate? But Azurans did not hate. Could these strangers infect Azura with their base feelings?

  Acielon shuddered at such perversion. The Council was right. The world beyond Azura was brutal, heartless, and destructive. If these foreigners could come and go as they pleased, they would wreak havoc on the peaceful population. Azura was in grave danger.

  Acielon had seen enough and could stand it no more. He must report to the Council of Archons. Fianna was safe for now, and Azura needed him.

  Closing his eyes, he sent telepathic summons to the Archons, then flapped his wings and willed himself into the governing chambers.

  * * *

  Acielon alighted in the center of the wide circle of white marble seats on the shiny white floor of
the council chamber. The rain pounded on the translucent blue crystal dome. Outside, lightning streaked the night sky, and thunder cracked and roared, the vibration reverberating throughout the entire structure.

  In a light fluttering of wings, the nine Archons ruling Azura materialized in a circle around him. Tall and straight despite their great age, they looked as young as Acielon with short white hair and perfectly smooth skin. They sat on their respective seats and arranged their silvery robes.

  The high dome vibrated with their presence, emitting blue light and soft harmonies that blended with the buffeting of the rain, making the sounds of the storm soothing.

  Lord Abraxas, the Chief Archon in the high seat, nodded to him. “Brother Acielon, what requires our urgent attention at this late hour?”

  “Venerable Ones.” Acielon bowed to the Archons. “I watched the foreigners who landed today.”

  “That is against the rules.” Lord Abraxas pursed rosy lips. “I know it is a rare event, but weren’t you taught as a boy to keep your distance from foreigners?”

  Acielon bit down a sharp comment. He wasn’t a child anymore. “I know, and I apologize, Venerable One. But they found a way to protect their technology from the planetary shield. Apparently, they can come and go as they please.”

  Lord Abraxas furrowed his dark brow. “That is unexpected.”

  The Archons leaned in their seats, to one side or another, and consulted each other in soft tones.

  Encouraged by their surprise, Acielon straightened his back. “They intend to extract the crystal and take it away to power foreign spaceships.”

  “I see...” Lord Abraxas stroked his smooth chin. “How do they plan to harvest the crystal?”

  “They are using hatchets, picks, hammers and chisels.” Acielon shrugged at the futility of tools. “Their soul is dark, Venerable One, and they enjoy violence. They have done terrible things and have no respect for life. We must stop them before they steal our crystal.”

  “Steal?” The Chief Archon arched an eyebrow. “This is a foreign concept we never mention around here. Have you spoken to them?”