Rogue Colony (Galaxy Mavericks Book 6)

by Michael La Ronn

  “We’re in a disaster and you can’t get the Internet working?” she asked.

  “We’re working as fast as we can, ma’am,” the rep said.

  An hour later, a blue G flashed on the screen of all the tablets and Michiko sighed with relief.

  Together with Ashley, she unpacked giant crates filled with red backpacks. Inside, they packed first aid kits, granola bars, bottles of water, a fully charged tablet with a charger, a map of the disaster ship, and a plastic card with important phone numbers.

  Four hundred backpacks later, the team lead entered and clapped to get everyone’s attention. He was tall and gangly, with a black beard.

  “Great job, guys,” Jason, the lead said. “Everything looks good. Let’s level set.”

  Everyone circled around him.

  “A few things,” he said. “We’re ready for the next round of intake. We’re going to be working with some pretty stressed out people. Almost all of them are citizens of Refugio. Many of them were in their homes when the aliens came.”

  Michiko hit Hassan on the arm.

  “Wait, this was an alien attack?” she whispered.

  “Oh, shiitake,” Hassan said. He looked pale.

  Jason paused. “Yes, it was an alien attack,” he said. “But let’s not worry too much, all right? Let’s think about the survivors. They’ve been through a traumatic event, and many of them have been separated from their families. No one knows what happened to those who are missing, and in all actuality, they could be dead.”

  The last word rung out as Jason paused.

  Michiko gulped. What would she do if she found out her family was dead or missing? She could only imagine how it must have felt.

  “So try to have some empathy,” Jason said, “and don’t take anything personal. They’re just reacting to their situation. They’ve been on military ships for the last few hours. Think about that. Just smile and help them as best you can. When this is all over, they’re not going to remember you, me, or any of us. But they are going to remember how we made them feel. Make them feel good and make them feel at home. Got it?”

  Everyone put their hands into the circle. Michiko felt a cluster of sweating hands all over hers.

  “On the count of the three,” Jason said.

  “Galaxy Corps!” everyone shouted, raising their hands into the air.

  “We’ll be at Reader IV in about fifteen minutes,” Jason said. “Take a break and be back in fifteen. Maybe go get a coffee because it’s the last break you’ll have for quite a while. We’ll start boarding shortly.”

  “What do you think?” Michiko asked Rudy as the volunteers dispersed. They exited the conference room, walking down a winding corridor toward a coffee kiosk where a busy barista moved among several coffee machines.

  “Sounds like we’re in for a wild ride,” Rudy said.

  “Can you believe it was an alien attack?” Michiko asked. “Do you think it was Arguses?”

  “Those pigs are capable of a lot,” Rudy said, “but I don’t think they would be able to make an entire planet disappear.”

  They reached the kiosk and flashed their Galaxy Corps badges to the barista.

  “Decaf,” Rudy said.

  Michiko gasped. “Oh my God, no.”

  “You wouldn’t like me filled with caffeine,” Rudy said. “Trust me.”

  “What blend is your coffee?” Michiko asked the barista.

  “Fair trade, grown in the mountains of Asiazil,” the barista said.

  “Yes!” Michiko said. “Sign me up, now!”

  Rudy laughed.

  They waited as the barista made their coffee.

  “I love my cafezinho,” Michiko said, “especially when it's from home.”

  “Cafe-what?” Rudy asked. “Zeeno?”

  “Cafezinho,” Michiko said. “It means little coffee.”

  “I love the way you say it,” Rudy said. “I won't repeat it. It'll make me sound like a gringo.”

  The barista handed Rudy a plastic cup with a lid. He sipped it and said, “Tastes like crap. Just the way I like it.”

  The barista handed Michiko her coffee. She took the lid off and smelled it, closing her eyes with delight.

  “Come on, try it,” she said.

  Rudy put up his hands in protest.

  “You've never even had it before,” Michiko said. “How can you knock it if you haven't tried it?”

  “It's cool. I'm—”

  “It's rude if you don't accept food from a friend, you know. At least on my planet. It's how we share experiences.”

  “You're culture shaming me?” Rudy asked, laughing. “That's low.”

  “I can be very persuasive,” Michiko said, holding the cup under Rudy’s nose. “You would turn down a sip of this delicious, mountain-grown dark roast, would you?” She talked in a baby voice. “No, you wouldn't. You couldn't possibly—”

  “Okay, okay,” Rudy said.

  He took the cup and took a giant sip—bigger than Michiko expected.

  He swallowed.

  And choked.

  “Whoa, this stuff is strong!” he said, coughing.

  Michiko laughed as she put her lid back on.

  “How do you drink that?” Rudy asked.

  “Easily,” Michiko said, sipping.

  “No cream, no sugar?”

  “God no.”

  Rudy shook his head.

  “I can cross little coffees of my bucket list.”

  “You'll come around,” Michiko said.

  They walked back to the intake room. Through the large rectangular window on the wall, they saw a fleet of escape pods on tethers descending toward the disaster ship.

  “We’re up!” Jason said clapping.

  Michiko sipped her coffee again, savoring the taste of the burnt grounds.

  She closed her eyes again.

  And then she opened them, ready for everything.

  7

  The survivors streamed into the intake room, one by one, looking around the ship with wonder. Many of them were Latino, with dark skin like Michiko.

  The room filled with the sound of English and Spanish, a comforting sound to her. Though it wasn't quite the Portguese she was used to hearing, it reminded her of home.

  She grabbed her tablet and her coffee and stood at the front of a row of tables.

  “Over here,” she said, motioning.

  A teenage boy approached her. He wore a striped black and white shirt and jean shorts. He had a red backpack in his hand.

  “What are we supposed to do?” he asked.

  “We’ll be conducting a short interview, and then we’ll be doing a tour,” Michiko said.

  “I'm really hungry,” the kid said. “I haven't eaten in a few hours.”

  Michiko reached into a bin under the table and handed him a pouch of granola, nuts and fruit leather.

  “Come with me,” Michiko said, smiling.

  The kid smiled and followed her.

  MICHIKO LED the boy behind a white partition with two chairs and a table. She motioned for him to sit. Then she pulled up an interview app on her tablet and set it on the table.

  “This tablet will record everything you say and transcribe it into our database. I will keep it brief, but we are collecting information in order to assist you and additional survivors that will come onboard.”

  The kid nodded.

  “What is your name?” she asked.

  “Rafael Hernandez. They call me Rafi.”

  “Hi, Rafi, my name is Michiko. I'm a volunteer here. How old are you?”

  “Nineteen.”

  “What's your address and date of birth?”

  Rafi replied.

  “Can you give me the names of any immediate family members who are missing from the incident?”

  “My mom, Sandra Hernandez, my dad, José, and my cousins.”

  “What are their names?”

  “Eddie Puente. Xiomara, Delfino. My grandfather, Benito, and my grandmother, Tonia.”

&n
bsp; “When was the last time you saw them?”

  Rafi paused. His face looked tormented. And then he began to sob.

  “I left them. I shouldn't have left them!”

  “It's okay,” Michiko said.

  She tried to stay calm, but she hated when people cried. She never knew what to say or do.

  “I cut corners,” Rafi said.

  Michiko listened. She decided the best way to help was just to listen.

  “I went to the Garbage Star,” Rafi said. “But Gaspar wanted to go to a club. I didn't tell Mama that I went. If I did, she would've said no and I would have been with my family and I could have saved them. I was on my way back when it happened and I—”

  “This is not your fault, Rafi,” Michiko said.

  Rafi sobbed.

  “I know it's hard to understand,” Michiko said, “and no one knows why these things happen…”

  Rafi calmed down. He took a tissue out of the backpack and wiped his face.

  “You look stressed,” Michiko said. “We can continue this at another time.”

  “No,” Rafi said, “I want to help. I want to stick it to those damned aliens.”

  He looked up at her resolutely.

  “Whatever you guys need,” he said.

  “Great!” Michiko said. “Thank you. Umm, where were we…oh, right here. Do you have any reason to think that your relatives may have made it off Refugio?”

  “No,” Rafi said. “I think my cousin Eddie was on a trip to the Garbage Star, but I think he would have made it back by the time it all happened.”

  “Please note that as a lead,” Michiko said, leaning close to the tablet. “Eddie Puente.”

  The tablet beeped.

  “Are you hurt or injured, Rafi?”

  “No, I'm fine.”

  “Are you experiencing any illnesses? Cold? Flu?”

  “No.”

  “Are you on any medication?”

  “No.”

  “Anything else you think we should know?”

  “Not that I can think of,” Rafi said. “Other than thank you.”

  Michiko blushed.

  “We would've been stranded in space without you guys and the Galactic Guard.”

  “We’re here to help.”

  “This ship is really something,” Rafi said. “It's nicer than anything I've ever been on.”

  “Your tax dollars at work,” Michiko said, smiling. “Every planet pays several billion toward the Galaxy Assistance Fund. It goes toward salaries, administration, and the costs of this ship.”

  “I just didn't expect it to be so nice,” Rafi said.

  “The nice thing about us is that most major employers in the galaxy also provide private funding. This is truly an everyone-in-it-together initiative. Our belief is that we want you to be comfortable, and our amenities help take your mind off things.”

  “I like that.”

  “Do you like sports?” Michiko asked. “There's a game room and they've got all the major sports on the TVs there.”

  A smile crept across Rafi’s face.

  “Down the hall. Take the elevator to the second floor,” Michiko said, pointing to a map of the ship on the far wall.

  She shook his hand, and when he left, she sighed, went to the front of the line again.

  “Next person, please.”

  8

  “I know that Crystalith are harmless and all, but they still creep me out,” Ashley said.

  They ate in the cafeteria in the middle of the dinner session. The picnic bench tables were full of survivors who were eating and talking. By Michiko’s guess there were at least a thousand people.

  “Why do they creep you out so much?” Michiko asked.

  “Aliens of any kind just freak me out,” Ashley said, spearing a green bean. Despite all the eating options in the cafeteria—steak, chicken, fish, vegetarian—her plate consisted of green beans, mashed potatoes, and a tiny chicken breast.

  “The Crystaliths helped us get off Earth so many years ago,” Michiko said. “If anything, we owe them a great deal of debt. They were the first alien race that we made contact with. Considering the alternatives, I’d say we were pretty lucky.”

  “You’re so worldly,” Ashley said. It sounded like a put-down, but Michiko brushed it off.

  “Aren’t we all worldly?” Michiko asked.

  Ashley shrugged. “You’re just very adventurous.”

  “You don’t seriously believe that a Crystalith is dangerous, do you?” Michiko asked.

  “I don’t know what to believe,” Ashley said. “But I know one thing: there are people we can’t trust, either. Take Hassan, for example.”

  Hassan was eating his dinner quietly—his plate was covered with a heaping mound of fried chicken, mashed potatoes and samosas. His mouth was full and he was in mid-chew.

  Michiko laughed.

  “Not fair!” Hassan said, his mouth still full.

  “Why do you think that Crystalith is on the ship?” Rudy asked.

  “Probably a refugee like the others here,” Michiko said. “They wander the galaxy. They used to be a collective race, but ever since the attack on their homeland, they’ve split up.”

  “I heard about that,” Rudy said, “but never knew much about it.”

  “Scholars don’t know much about it,” Michiko said. “It happened at least two hundred thousand years ago. They lived on a planet that we just can’t seem to find—Lithos. Imagine a place full of Crystaliths, a planet where the surface is basically shimmering carbon, brighter than any diamond.”

  “I could use a few diamonds,” Hassan said.

  “The Crystalith were a peaceful race, but an alien race wanted the planet’s resources. I think they were called The Purged.”

  “What the hell kind of name is that?” Rudy asked. “Sounds like an awesome rock band, though.”

  “Apparently they were a collective alien race. Highly intelligent like the Crystalith. We don’t know much about them, but from the scattered, sometimes confusing translations from the Crystalith, they were shape shifters.”

  “Really?” Hassan asked. “Doesn’t that contradict the laws of chemistry?”

  “We don’t really know. We can’t know what they actually looked like because we weren’t there. But the legend goes that they were a legion, and you knew they were coming by the light of its million eyes.”

  “But the legend goes that The Purged waged war on the Crystalith. The Crystalith banded together and with shimmering light, they destroyed their invaders. But they also ended up destroying their home planet. They were left to wander the universe. Only two hundred thousand years later did they descend upon humanity.”

  “But I don’t get it,” Ashley said. “Why were the attackers called The Purged?”

  “Because the Crystalith purged them,” Michiko said. “That’s what they told us. What that actually means, I have no idea.”

  Michiko finished her red curry.

  “So that’s your xenobiology lesson for the day,” she said. “And it’s why the Crystalith are completely harmless.”

  “Speaking of harmless, I think a few drinks wouldn’t hurt right now, would they?” Ashley asked.

  “You and your Prosecco,” Hassan said, pretending disgust.

  “What?” Ashley asked. “We worked hard all day.”

  “And you think it’s right to descend into the bottle every night?” Hassan asked. “It’s not right, little lady, and you’re going to have to atone for your sins.”

  “Screw you,” Ashley said, punching him on the arm.

  They finished eating and joined a line to return their trays.

  A middle-aged woman cut through the crowd. She had a ponytail and wore a sweater. She was looking for someone. Michiko saw her approach Hassan.

  “Drake?” she asked, touching him on the shoulder.

  Hassan turned around and looked at her curiously.

  “I have a lot of names, but Drake isn’t one of them,” he said.

&nb
sp; “I’m sorry,” the woman said. “You looked like him.”

  “Who?” Rudy asked.

  “My son,” the woman said. “I thought he came with us when we entered the ship. He was right behind us. But I haven’t seen him.”

  “What’s your name?” Rudy asked.

  “Maya Alpert,” the woman said. “I just arrived on the evening intake.”

  “And you said he was right behind you?” Rudy asked. “In a spaceship?”

  “A corsair,” Maya said.

  “How old is he?”

  “Thirty-two.”

  “Oh,” Rudy said. “Wasn’t expecting that.”

  “We can send out a page,” Michiko said. “I’m sure he’s here somewhere.”

  She pulled out her phone and opened the Galaxy Assistance app. Under the name directory of all the people who had been admitted onto the ship, she searched for Drake Alpert, but there were no matches.

  She searched for the name differently. Alpert, Drake. Drake. Alpert.

  But there were no results.

  “And you’re sure he was behind you?” Michiko asked.

  “I know what I saw!” Maya said.

  Michiko slid her phone into her pocket. Probably not a good idea to tell this woman that her son definitely was not on the ship.

  “Maya, we will go and talk to our superiors,” Michiko said. “Give us your phone number and we will see what we can do.”

  In that moment, the lights shut off. Then they flickered on.

  “Weird,” Hassan said.

  “Didn't that happen when we were on the carrier ship?” Michiko asked.

  “Yeah,” Rudy said. “With a ship this large I suppose it can happen here, too.”

  “Hmm,” Michiko said.

  “Come on,” Hassan said. “We’re wasting time.”

  “THERE GOES OUR DRINKING SESSION,” Ashley said as they crowded onto an elevator. The car moved upward toward the residence quarters.

  “We’re always on duty, whether we want to be or not,” Michiko said. “I’m sure Jason will know what to do. Seems like a fairly common thing, right?”

  “He wasn’t in the database, right?” Rudy asked. “The answer is simple: he’s not here.”