Firestorm: Galaxy On Fire, Book 3

by Craig Robertson

  “What?” snapped Mirraya.

  “Don’t worry. After we take the biopsies, we’ll suspend the stasis field long enough for you two to heal,” responded Pastersal.

  “Assuming of course the biopsies don’t cause so much damage you can’t think straight to transform,” added Malraff maliciously.

  “Now, High Seer, I don’t see any reason to frighten our specimens more than necessary,” chided Pastersal.

  Mirri reflected that Pastersal was such a humanitarian, so kind and visionary for an Adamant.

  True to their word, after the highly invasive core samples removed from the teens’ brains, they were allowed to heal while they still could. Then the stasis field was turned back on and the teens were escorted back to their cells.

  Mirraya was relieved to see Sentorip awaiting her, a tray of food in her arms, sitting on a newly arrived mattress.

  “So, it wasn’t so bad, was it,” asked Sentorip.

  “Nah, piece of cake. See,” Mirraya pointed to herself generally, “not a mark on me.”

  SEVEN

  As Cellardoor—by the way, I definitely had to press her on the origins of her name—and I walked toward her house, I started to speak a couple times, but she shut me down. Once it was an elbow to the ribs, another time a look that hurt even more. I was certain she was angry with me. Touchy people, these Ugalies.

  When we arrived, she opened the door and shoved me in. The door shut heavily behind us.

  “Well you’ve got all the nerve,” she said. “Pulling a stunt like that will actually get us both killed.” She glared at me. “You a’course I couldn’t care less about. Good riddance, I’d say. But me? I have three hungry little ones to feed and protect. Where’d they be without their ma? Hmm, you lame brain. Did you think a’that?”

  I tried to look sheepish but darn cute.

  “Clearly you didn’t. Now we’re between them. We lied to the Adamant and we need to hide you from the town folk. Damn you, I say. We’ll never pull either off. Then we’ll be dead and humiliated.”

  “Which is worse? I mean, we could try and angle the damage such that…”

  “Enough. It’s far bad enough you endanger me. I’ll not abide a twisted wit to boot.”

  “I’m Jon, by the way, but you can still call me Josbelub if you’d prefer.”

  “I don’t care who you are. You’re a curse, that’s all I know. What the devils got into you back there? Why’d you up my bid and include yourself?”

  “Because you looked like you needed help—a friend.”

  “If I were to need a friend, I’d not come shopping in your store. As to needing help, who doesn’t? But that stunt’ll like as much get us killed. If the Adamant don’t figure it out, a neighbor will surely try to get in their good graces by selling me out.”

  “Am I to assume there’s no Mr. Pontared at this particular moment. That would complicate things a bit.”

  “No, thank the Six Heavens. He’s dead nearly a year. The Adamant took a dislike to him, and that was all there was to him.”

  “Sorry to hear that. I truly am.”

  “Well I’m not. He was a drunkard and a thief. Either quality will bring the Adamant down on a body. Both are positively lethal.”

  “What do you want that harvester for? You know, our new harvester.”

  “I wanted it to chop carrots with. What do you think I wanted it for? It’s to harvest crops.”

  “I didn’t see any out back.”

  “I mean to rent it out, make a steady profit.”

  “Well, you have my blessing.”

  “I didn’t ask for your blessing, nor do I require it. Plus, being dead makes running a business out of the question.”

  “Don’t be so negative. I’m sure we’ll pull this off. What can go wrong?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Let me see. One, you’re an alien. No local’d marry one. Two, you forced me to lie to the Adamant. Three, my neighbors are a snoopy gossipy lot. There’s no hiding a juicy bit like this.”

  “Tell them we are married, that true love forced us together.”

  “Are you daft? I just said no one’d marry an alien. It’s unholy, unnatural.”

  “What about true love?”

  “We’re done talking about it. We’ll meet at the sewage plant each day, but otherwise you avoid this place like the plague house.”

  “We don’t have a perfect marriage, do we? Say, where are my step children? I love kids.”

  “They’re in school, and you’ll never see them.”

  “Look, all kidding aside, I have money. Can’t we pay off our debt and be done with it?”

  “No. That’s ridiculous. The Adamant don’t take payment. They want productivity.”

  “How about a bribe?”

  “Now I know your daft and an alien. Adamant don’t take bribes.”

  “I’m sure this will work out just fine. Look, I’ll do the whole month. You take care of your kids and no one will be the wiser.”

  “You can’t do my two weeks. A deal with the Adamant is a deal. End of story.”

  “What do they care who does the work?”

  “No means no. Drop it.”

  “I passed a sewage plant earlier today. Are we working at the one near that tall tower, the one with the plants growing up the sides?”

  “Yes, that’s the one.”

  “I’ll be there at first light.”

  With that, I left. She wasn’t warming to me like I’d planned. I needed to interact with the locals and the Adamant to try and see if I could discover a weakness. Cellardoor was closed to me. Hopefully that would change. Huh. Cellardoor was closed. I was a pretty funny robot.

  I made it to the plant just at first light. Cellardoor was already there. She had a knapsack that I presumed held her lunch. I didn’t wonder hard whether she’d packed for two. A detail of Adamant arrived maybe half an hour later. Apparently, they never traveled alone. A low-ranking officer came over to us and said, “You will be working in the clean-out shoots today. The shovels are over there, and the picks are over there if you need them. Be warned. If any of us think either of you are working at too casual a pace, neither of you will receive credit for today, and one additional day will be added to your commitment.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” I replied cheerily. “Hard work is my middle name.”

  “You are Josbelub Pontared. That is the only identification we require. Your middle name is not necessary.”

  “No, I meant I work so hard that could be my middle name.”

  “We still do not require a third name. Are you stalling? Stalling is unacceptable.”

  “No. I’m getting to work.” I was tempted to ask when lunch was because I hated to be bossed around, but I let it go. Cellardoor already held a shovel, and I didn’t want her to use it on me.

  What could I say about cleaning sewage lines that isn’t self-evident? It turned out to be a sweltering day. There was no breeze, and the only chill in the air came off Cellardoor in my direction. The smell was horrific, the slimy ooze was gross, and even with all my sensors turned off, I still couldn’t avoid the stench. Oh, and I slipped and face planted in the goo—twice. Hell, those were the only smiles I drew from my wife all day.

  For her part, Cellardoor worked hard at a steady clip. I was impressed. I could only imagine what the sensory overload must have been like by late afternoon. But she kept her head down and forged ahead. We were given thirty minutes for lunch, which was our only break. Pitchers of water were available nearby, and I made it a point to drink often.

  As we made for the shade during lunch, Cellardoor said, “Wash up and I’ll spread the meal over there.” She nodded toward a spot under a few large trees. Bless her heart, she did pack for two. “Be quick about it. They’ll be calling us back promptly on time.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said with a half-salute. That got a tiny grin from her. Maybe she was coming around to the charm of Jon Ryan. How could she not?

  “It’s not much, but it�
��s all I can spare,” she remarked as she set out cheese, bread, and dried fruits. “Between the kids and the Adamant, there’s not much food left for me.”

  “Us, you mean,” I said with a charming wink.

  “I meant me. I couldn’t risk not bringing my husband his lunch too. If the Adamant noticed, they’d get suspicious. Everything makes them suspicious.”

  “Tell me about it,” I replied as I bit off a chunk of bread.

  “It’s good to know you have a lick of sense then. Be mindful of them at all times. I still don’t know why they haven’t wiped us out like I hear tell they do most other worlds.”

  “I think we’re too small to devote many resources to. If that’s the case, they need us around for now to keep production up,” I remarked as I swatted away a couple of the many annoying cats roaming feral. These two had designs on my cheese.

  “What do you mean we? Any fool can see you’re not one of us.”

  “Those fools can’t.” I pointed some cheese at the Adamant where they lounged, eating their lunch too.

  “I noticed. Odd. They seem to be so thorough otherwise.”

  “They don’t see what they’re not looking for,” I mumbled as I chewed a tough piece of fruit. It was sour and bitter. Yuck. “What is this?” I asked holding the piece up.

  She guffawed through her nose. “That’s the healing wax, you bumpkin. Give it here. I brought it in case either of us got hurt.”

  “Well, at least my throat is safe for the while.”

  “You are an odd one, Josbelub Pontared, I have to tell you that.” She held up the lump of wax. “As it’s also a powerful laxative. Your innards will be healthy in no time at all too.”

  We both chuckled at that.

  “Five minutes,” shouted the officer. “If you have to lift a leg, do it now.”

  “It seems counterproductive to pee when you’re cleaning the very sewer you’d be using,” I remarked.

  “Aye,” she replied. “That’s why I think I’ll try that bush over there.” She pointed to a shrub as she stood and stretched.

  “I’ll wait until your out of sight and lift my leg against this tree, if it’s okay with the missus.”

  “If you see her, you can ask her,” Cellardoor said over a shoulder.

  As she walked away, I swear she swayed her hips more than she did before.

  The next two days were wash-rinse-repeat. We cleaned those shoots but good. We stank to high heaven, and we became co-conspirators, if not friends. Cellardoor was a reserved individual. Maybe she was that way but nature or maybe life and the war had made her so. What little more she told me about her dead husband made me cringe. He was one filthy heel.

  Dawn of day four brought trouble. Slave labor with a pretend wife couldn’t be too easy.

  “Today we are sending you to the solid waste disposal station in Ainsbury to repair storm damage,” said a high-ranking officer we hadn't seen prior.

  “Ainsbury?” said Cellardoor. “That’s quite a long way. We won’t get much done in one day.”

  The Adamant officer, whose name turned out to be Group-Single Fuffefer—may his soul be tormented in hell forever—visibly ground his teeth before responding. “Slaves will not question assignments. You will be there until I decide the task is complete. It may take several days. Now get aboard the truck.”

  “Several days? What about my…our children? We haven’t made plans for their care. If you’ll allow one of us…”

  “Silence.” Fuffefer was hot. “Slaves and their children have no rights. You will mount the truck, or you will be shot. What becomes of your demon spawn is no concern of mine.” The dog was serious. I believe xenophobic best described him.

  I noticed a withered old woman was slowly approaching. She was crooked, her cane was crooked, and her path was crooked. I made a hasty plan and set it in motion before the light of reason could dissuade me.

  In my head, I said, one fiber, along the ground, to the soldier nearest on the left.

  A solitary fiber shot from my left index finger and snaked over to the guard.

  Sleep, I said. That generally worked. I really hoped it did presently.

  The Adamant laid down where he stood, cuddling his rifle like it was a fluffy teddy bear. Perfect.

  “Ah, excuse me, your highness,” I said. “Is he coming too?” I fingered the snoozing guard. “If so, I’ll try and wake him if you want.”

  That stunt had a better effect on Fuffefer than I could have hoped for. After shaking like a tree in a mighty wind, he unholstered his sidearm.

  “You lazy, incompetent slacker,” he howled.

  Then he began firing at the ground around the guard. That woke him right up. The stunned soldier popped to his feet like a jack-in-the-box and, bless his heart, saluted Fuffefer as he tried to stop trembling.

  “What in the name of all service makes you think…”

  I stopped listening to Fuffefer dressing down of the guard. The old woman had finally gotten as close to us as she was going to, about two meters away. I sidestepped over to her, keeping an eye on the Adamant. The two other soldiers had their eyes riveted on their unfortunate comrade.

  “Ma’am, a saintly favor. Do you know Cellardoor?” I pointed to my coworker.

  The woman strained forward and studied her. “Ah, yes, the drunkard’s wife. That man…”

  “He died. Look, here’s some money. Look after her kids a few days. The Adamant are taking us away.” I stuffed what cash I had into her gnarled hand.

  “The Adamant are taking you to play?” She placed the money directly under her nose and angled what must have been her better eye at it. “Why pay me to play with…”

  “Away,” I said too loud. One of the guards heard and spun toward me.

  “Protect Cellardoor’s children,” I shouted as I closed her fingers around the coins. I took one step back and raised my arms at the krone. “No, stop. The Group-Single has the situation in hand.”

  The guard who’d noticed came up and shoved his gun in my ribs. “What’s going on here? You were trying to escape.”

  “No. This worthy citizen noticed the commotion and came to help the Group-Single if help was needed. I was reassuring her no aid was required. That’s all.”

  He eyed her dubiously. “You were coming to our aid?” he huffed.

  “No, I said I won’t play. What are you two lunatics going on about. I’m an old woman and I’m babysitting that woman’s children. I don’t have time for such nonsense.” With that, she turned and slowly staggered away. She tossed a disgusted hand at us backward as she departed.

  “She meant well. Silly old woman,” I said the still scowling Adamant

  The guard was about to respond, but he spun when Fuffefer set off a long volley at the soldier I’d put to sleep. This time Fuffefer aimed at the guy’s head. By the time the guard and I turned, that head was only a red-pink vapor puff.

  “Now everyone get aboard that train or I’ll shoot you all.” Fuffefer sounded convincing.

  Everyone double-timed it onto the train and it lurched into movement.

  Cellardoor starred at me aghast.

  “What?” I said. “I didn’t do anything.” I gestured over my shoulder. “That guard decided to take a nap at the wrong time, that’s all.” Then, because I had to, I winked at her.

  EIGHT

  The garbage dump cleanup, which is really an oxymoronic process, lasted five days. It went well for a few reasons. First, Cellardoor was impressed with how I’d rushed to the aid of her kids. Second, we were cleaning rubbish, not sewers. It was a real step up in the world. Third, possibly because he was still embarrassed about how his guard fell asleep, Fuffefer lightened up on us quite a bit. Don’t get me wrong, he was still a certified grade-AA jerk, but the hateful edge seemed to be missing. Those five days turned out to be the most pleasant slave labor stint I’d ever pulled.

  Fuffefer arranged for a truck to bring our group back to Fottot. He dropped Cellardoor and me off at our marital residence
around dusk. Again, that seemed like a nicer gesture than he should have.

  As I hopped down from the truck bed, Fuffefer came around to speak to me. “You are a hard worker, Josbelub Pontared. On missions such as these, I mostly deal with people trying to do as little as possible. Never once did you attempt that. In fact, you worked with a dedication I would never have expected from someone in your position.”

  Uh oh. Was this leading somewhere where I ended up dead?

  “You would have no way of knowing, being a farmer or whatever it is you said you did, but these assignments are not my favorite. I’m a warrior. I would serve the empire in battle, not puppysitting. Anyway, you made it not loathsome for me, so thank you.”

  “I’ll try and keep it up the next five days,” I responded.

  “Very well,” he replied stiffly. “Tomorrow, you will be separated. You will work clearing debris around buildings. Your bitch will report to the construction site at the main square. She’ll cook for the crews. I’ll send this truck for you both at dawn.”

  All right then. I’d be spending the night with the missus. We’d have to keep up appearances, right? Wouldn’t Cellardoor be pleased?

  As the truck drove away, she and I stood at the side of the street. “Good riddance,” she hissed when they were gone.

  “Aw, I think they’re warming up to us. Fuffefer’s even sending the truck to pick us up tomorrow at dawn.”

  It took only milliseconds for her to process the implications of my remark. “He said no such thing.”

  “It’d be a shame to disappoint him, me not being here bright and early. I think you’ll be pretty unhappy when you find out that’s what he said and have to explain where the love of your existence was.” I wagged my eyebrows.

  “Just when I’m deluding myself into thinking you’re not all that bad, you drop to a new level of being an ass.”

  “You’re not going to believe this, but you’re not the first woman to tell me that.”

  “I not only believe it, I know it for a certainty.” She stomped a foot on the pavement. “Well, let’s get inside. The longer the neighbors are gawking at us, the worst this’ll turn out.”