Dalton Kane and the Greens
Page 34
“Oh, I’ll stay.” Chumley ran a hand over his inky black hair. “I’m not sure why, but this place is starting to grow on me.”
“That’s Molorthia Six for you,” Dalton said. “It’s the most miserable damn armpit in the universe, but we call it home. Speaking of which, what do you want for dinner?”
Fat droplets of water were already spattering the ground when they made it back to the adobe house on the far eastern edge of town. Dalton took the easy route with dinner and heated a frozen pizza, and he and Chumley dined out on the back patio beneath the canvas awning, not caring they were getting soaked with every gust of wind.
Dalton imagined that the rain had been sent to wash away the blood of battle; the planet cleansing itself.
They ate in silence, listening to the raindrops fall like tapping fingers, and when they’d finished and pushed their plates back and the deluge fell in greater earnest, Chumley said, “I’ve been wondering something.”
“What?”
“The Haa’la at Nydo Base had posts in the desert so they could listen to humans. I thought they were listening for any signs that the humans had discovered them so they could evacuate if necessary—but they didn’t evacuate when Ashi’ii told them the Verdants were coming. It just doesn’t make sense to me.”
Dalton had been wondering the same thing. “Could be the Haa’la were going to attack us the moment they heard a transmission mentioning we’d found them. Not evacuate.”
“Then why didn’t they just attack the humans as soon as they landed in the first place? It seems like it would have been easier for them in the long run.”
Dalton thought about it some more. “Could be they were being kind.”
“Kind?”
“Weirder things have happened, trust me on that.” He thought of the Greens in Richport—not the ones that had killed at the hotel but the ones who had fought the Verdants and won. He said, “We could go back inside, if you want.”
“I think I’d like to stay out here a bit,” Chumley said, dabbing at his mouth with a soggy napkin. “It’s not supposed to rain often. I need to absorb as much of it as I can and save it for a sunny day.”
Dalton let out a chuckle, then frowned at himself. “The Rosa River is going to be full for a while,” he commented as water ran down his scalp and into his eyes. “We could go swimming one of these days.”
“I like swimming,” Chumley said, a boyish twinkle appearing in his brown eyes. “I’ve thought about installing a pool in my Cube but haven’t gotten around to it. I’d have to get rid of the veranda.”
“And we could go for night hikes,” Dalton went on. “I always liked doing those. It’s been a while, though. Probably five or six years.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been on a night hike.”
“They’re better than day hikes when you live in a desert. You get to see more wildlife, too, like the great desert stinkworm—don’t think I’ve ever mentioned those to you. Ugly little buggers.” The rain thickened suddenly, as if God himself had switched on the universe’s largest faucet. “We’d better get inside before we drown ourselves.”
Chumley nodded. They gathered up the empty plates and the pizza pan and dragged themselves, dripping, inside. Then Dalton stood at the back door watching the rain sluice downward, thinking about all the lives that had been lost, and reminding himself of all the lives that had been saved.
The constant pall of grief that had lain over him for the past five years hadn’t gone away, but it felt lighter somehow, as if someone had lifted up a corner of it and let a little light in underneath, which of course was a silly thing to visualize in the middle of a monsoon.
It was nice being not as sad about things, though. He could go through life feeling not as sad about things. And while he didn’t think himself a happy man by any means, that small distinction made all the difference in the world.
I know my family will never come back, Dalton thought at the sky. But maybe having a friend is the next best thing.
He shook himself and turned from the pane. “Chumley, go grab a couple glasses. What was it you were saying about Kaktian rum?”
Epilogue
Pelstring Four was said to be the gem of the Milky Way Galaxy, not that there was a whole lot to compare it to, given that humanity had yet to travel more than a hundred and fifty light years away from Earth in any direction.
Most planets that had been discovered and then explored were either airless worlds boasting more rocks than life forms or overgrown gas giants that didn’t have ground to stand on. Others were already occupied.
Pelstring Four was different. It had a twenty-four-hour day, just like Earth. It had one sun and one moon, just like Earth. It had a 407-day year and four distinguishable seasons in its northern and southern hemispheres, none of which ever got too hot or too cold.
Thirty million humans made Pelstring Four their home, and the population was growing at a steady one percent increase each year. All seemed to be going well.
Seemed being the operative word.
The view out the penthouse window on the top floor of the Shikhar Building in Nuevo Pradesh City showed lush gardens in full bloom for the season, but Governor Elroy Ghosh was too agitated to enjoy it.
He stood at the window, gripping a bottle of mineral water in one trembling hand, having just downed his afternoon dose of Nerzopan. The pills just took the edge off his anxiety. He couldn’t go full mellow today because he had several important meetings lined up for the next four hours, and it was never a good idea to be too agreeable when you walked into one.
A soft rapping on his door made him drop his bottled water, which glugged into the carpet. Swearing, Elroy snatched it up and said, “Come in!”
Jyoti Benoit, his assistant, stepped into his office, her hair tied back into a severe bun. She held a large manila envelope in front of her. “I’ve received a message for you, sir.”
“A message?” Elroy made an effort to keep his hands still. Rumors of his affliction had been circulating among his staff, and he did his best to quell them.
She held the envelope out for him to take. The flap was open—he could tell it had been sealed at one point.
Elroy’s eyebrows rose as he took it from her. “You’ve read it?”
“I have.” Her mouth twitched. “It’s your own policy, remember? We have to check for threats before passing any physical correspondence on to you.”
Elroy could hear his own heartbeat banging out a staccato tempo as he slid a white sheet of A4 paper out of the envelope.
Four words were printed on it: He’s on Molorthia Six.
It had been initialed at the bottom with the letter B.
He read the message twice more, then looked up at Jyoti. “Do you understand what this means?”
“I assume you’re looking for someone, and that whoever you hired to track them down has found them. Would you like another nerve pill? Your hands are shaking like crazy.”
“I don’t take nerve pills,” Elroy said through clenched teeth. He turned away from her toward the window and felt his mouth broaden into a grin.
He’s on Molorthia Six.
Elroy slid his sat-phone out of his pocket.
Chumley Fanshaw was going to regret the day he was born.
to be continued . . .
About the Author
J. S. Bailey enjoys writing speculative tales that keep readers on the edges of their seats. She has published eight novels and twenty-two short stories, with more on the way. Bailey is fond of long walks in the woods, British television, and lots of burritos. She lives in Cincinnati, Ohio with her husband and cats. She has never met a man-eating plant, and plans to keep it that way.
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Table of Contents
Prologue
Part 1 Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Part 2 Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Epilogue
About the Author
Landmarks
Cover
Title Page
Table of Contents
Prologue