Star Force: Lost Destiny (Wayward Trilogy Book 1) Page 2

  Esna carefully crawled down through some rough, dirty rocks making sure not to cut her soft, vulnerable skin until her feet hit a damp ledge with soft moss growing on it. The feeling of it beneath her feet was glorious, but she didn’t have time to relish it. She was on the clock with only a small respite here before returning to the dry, dead world above.

  There was no light save for what was coming in the crevice at the top, but Esna had been here enough times to know the rocks by feel. She crawled through a small opening feet first and dipped them into a hidden pool, sliding all the way in as she took a deep breath. Her head went underwater and her short red hair slicked back as she traveled half a meter under a ledge and came up in the near dark on the other side in a pocket of air.

  Inside were several glow sticks they’d deposited earlier. She groped around and found one attached to the wall, pulled it off and shook it. A purple glow manifested itself and the dimensions of the secret chamber became visible. It was smaller than her room back at the domicile, but deep enough that her feet couldn’t touch the bottom…which was good, because the rocks down there were jagged and there were gaps where the water flow connected to the underground chamber that fed it. Esna saw the water line on the wall was a couple of fingers lower than normal, but it was still more than deep enough for her to soak in, with her body thoroughly relishing the chilly water.

  She ducked her head down and sucked in a gulp, not caring if a minute amount of sweat or dirt came with it. Life on this planet was hard, and a good mouthful of fresh ground water was more valuable than a lot of the crops they planted. Had she and her brother wanted to lay claim to this place and mine the water to sell they could have made a fair amount of money…assuming no one came and killed them to take it.

  Which was why it was their personal secret and an oasis amongst the desert-like landscape to escape into, as well as one of the main reasons they could remain sane. Having to wear their armor almost round the clock was claustrophobic, but it had been their father’s dying wish and Yammar wouldn’t take any chances with them coming to harm, so he had two reasons to make them wear it. Whatever race they were there were no others like them on this world, but Yammar had told them they would be in danger if anyone ever saw that they were different, and they had never had reason to distrust him.

  There were plenty of reasons, or lack of reasons, that people got killed for in town or elsewhere and both Esna and Teren knew not to give anyone a reason to take interest in them. Plenty of others wore armor, so they weren’t unique in that, and if the town and Gladers thought they were Gonash or Crishen or Haph then so be it. They obviously weren’t Calavari with only two arms, but there were enough other races around that looked similar in body for them to be mistaken for.

  But here, in their private space, Esna could be…whatever it was she was. Her skin felt in contact with the planet and the coolness ate away at the concerns of the outside world, thanks in large part to the trust she had in her brother. So long as he didn’t call out an alarm she had nothing to worry about outside and could mentally disconnect in here.

  That was, until her brother called out to her that her time was up. Reluctantly she dipped her head under the water and swam back out under the outcropping and climbed up into the harsh light and dry wind, dripping precious droplets down into the thirsty dirt as her feet picked up grime walking back to her clothes.

  “Better,” she announced as she got dressed, regretting not being able to stay down there permanently. Teren waited until she was fully clothed and had her armor back on before he started to peel his off, then when he went below Esna took a seat on a rock a little higher up and looked out over the plain as the first two of three suns were making their way up towards midday. The third was out of view and kept the planet lit almost round the clock, giving only a few hours of true darkness most of the year and none for about a month and a half when the planet passed between it and the pair at the middle of the ‘system,’ as Yammar described it, though she knew little of that other than the lessons he insisted that they learn.

  She dreamed of being away from this world someday, but she had no real hope of ever achieving that. There were traders that came and went, and her father was supposed to have been one of them, but she remembered almost nothing from the time when Yammar said she traveled with him. Esna couldn’t even remember his face.

  Teren could, and she hated him for that. At least he had something to hold onto beyond this burnt over wasteland…which was odd, because she couldn’t remember ever knowing anything beyond this place, save for the ruins and their little oasis below, but she felt like there should be more.

  What that more could be she didn’t know, but there had been something here long ago. Blasted into rubble and now just dust and forgotten memories.

  And this planet didn’t even belong to her according to Yammar. She was from another world entirely, as unbelievable as that sounded.

  But none of that mattered, really. She was here with her brother and that was the extent of her life. She lived in today, not dreams of the past or hopes of tomorrow. Today…and today they had to get back to help move the livestock into town for sale.

  When her brother came back up she let him dress in silence then the pair got back on their bike and took off across the plain after smoothing out their footprints to leave no sign to draw attention to their little slice of paradise.

  2

  Their speeder slowed to a gradual halt next to one of the pair of water spires with Esna sliding off while Teren lowered it down and used his legs to walk it into one of the 14 sheds on the family property. She walked over to one of the small spigots on the southernmost spire and popped her helmet off, tipping over and putting her mouth underneath as she twisted the nozzle and got a mouthful of the lukewarm water directly rather than walking into the house.

  Both spires gradually pulled water vapor out of the air, condensing it down into liquid and storing it in two massive tanks that were used to supply the four of them with as well as the crops and livestock, the former of which could almost survive without it. They were a mix of julai and renni, spread out into separate fields, and were both a form of cactus that the livestock ate. They soaked up water in even trace amounts so Yammar didn’t have to do much watering, thankfully. The two water spires were expensive enough as it was and building a third would have been a major pain in the ass.

  The pair was enough to supply the farm with all the water it needed and the Calavari had a backup tank underground that slowly filled up with excess. As kids Esna and Teren had been told not to drink from the tap because they would spill and waste water in the process, but the siblings had long ago perfected sneaking drinks without leaving a drop of evidence behind and now that they were adults it was no longer an issue to their two Calavari parents.

  Esna gulped down the water and put her helmet back on with a snap/click, then headed over to the western pasture where Yammar was already loading up the holding pens, though his bulk made it difficult for him to do more than shoo the Brendilin in the direction he wanted. They were small and fast, but not very smart. He’d already tricked 8 of them into the little fence rows that would lead them onto the transport, but they needed to take at least 50 in today, maybe upwards of 100 depending on how many he felt like selling off. The finances of the farm were something the siblings left to Yammar and Innit while Esna and Teren helped out with a lot of the physical duties, then chipped in here and there with their scavenging while maintaining as much in the way of roaming privileges as possible.

  Esna put one hand on the synthetic fence rail and hopped over, her half cape flapping behind her in a brief lived flourish, then she ran after the nearest of the Brendilin and started shooing them in the proper direction. Her brother came out and helped her run down enough and drive them in to where Yammar was collecting them. The Calavari could pick one up with a single hand if he got close enough, and long ago they’d learned how to scare the little things close enough to him.

  W
ith their help it didn’t take long for him to snag some 60 of the hairy little critters and place them into the queue-like holding pens, then Yammar brought the larger of the two livestock transports that they owned around and docked it to the boarding ramp. Teren jumped up and climbed around the side of the big truck to lift the door open, then Esna shooed the first of the Brendilin inside. Most of them went in easy enough, but one got defiant and dug its six little hooves into the ground so hard that Esna couldn’t get him to move until Yammar came along and reached in over the railing, grabbing the brown-haired rascal by the back of the neck and pulling him loose.

  He tossed it further up the chute and Esna was able to keep it moving with a hard leaning shoulder until it got past the doorway and into the transport that had slats in the walls letting in horizontal rays of light to illuminate the otherwise closed and claustrophobic compartment…or at least it would be once all 60 got onboard. It could hold up to 115 if they packed them in hard, but even sixty wasn’t going to leave them much room to move around…which was a good thing when they hit bumps. They’d knock into each other without having room to fall over, and the road into town was little more than a dirty, uneven trail across the countryside.

  When they got finished loading Teren sealed the hatch and jumped down, landing on the ground in a crouch as Yammar pointed to him.

  “You’ve got driving duty.”

  Teren reversed direction, circling around to the driver’s side ladder and climbing up to get into the tall box on the front of the transport as Yammar and Esna climbed into a personal transport that was a fraction of the size. Yammar took the driver’s seat while she climbed into the back of the one-seater and perched in the cargo compartment next to their salvage bundle. She could have rode with Teren, but she preferred the open air and the ability to stand up and stretch her legs as needed. There was a roll bar over the top of the small four-wheeled craft that she grabbed and stood up behind as Yammar started them moving.

  Innit waved at them with her upper right hand from the doorway to the main house as she usually did. Esna waved back, then jolted as they hit a hole and the right rear tire bounced a few inches as Yammar made a turn that brought them out in front of the transport that began rolling behind them. The two vehicle convoy drove out from the cluster of buildings and down a path between fields heading for the nearest settlement with her surfing on the back for a good ten minutes before finally deciding to sit down on the hard ridges of the cargo bed, though she couldn’t feel them through her armor anyway so it didn’t really matter. Had Yammar sat back here it would have been different, for he wore nothing but his usual loose clothing.

  That and a sidearm holster. She and her brother were also both armed, which was needed for these trips else they risked getting ambushed. If word got around that you didn’t carry you’d find yourself with a lot of negative attention focused your way, and even if you did you still had to defend yourself on occasion, which was why all three of them needed to go, and sometimes Innit, but there hadn’t been much trouble in this area for some time now and the threesome was almost unnecessary. Two could have handled it, but Yammar had to see to the payment and Teren and Esna never liked to go anywhere without the other.

  Two and a half hours of riding later, they approached the settlement of Habren, haphazardly built and nothing like the smooth, crisp architecture that Esna and her brother had found in the ruins. Most of the buildings here were mud-based with various adhesives mixed in while the few that held wealthier individuals were of synthetic design, their materials having been shipping in from either the distant city of Dargoon or from offworld.

  Before they got into the city itself Yammar pulled off on a side road that led to the holding pens in the settlement market. There were dozens of different holding areas for the various livestock that people raised and either ate themselves or traded in here. The meat market was a lucrative one and had kept Yammar and Innit well stocked in the various supplies they needed to survive, having had to overcome numerous setbacks that would have doomed others. The grain production was secondary, as far as income was concerned, and they made their primary living off the sale of Brendilin.

  The personal transport pulled up next to an administrative building while Teren spun the much larger transport around and began the process of backing it up to one of the offloading docks. Esna hopped off and ran over to help guide him as Yammar walked over to the door and let himself in.

  “Nerret,” he greeted as he pulled the door shut behind him.

  “Yammar,” the other Calavari said, rising from his desk and stretching all four of his giant yellow arms behind his back. “How many this trip?”

  “60.”

  “Runts like the last time?” Nerret said with a huff as he pounded a fist on his desk to get the attention of the only other person in the room. The tall, lanky Critel jerked his attention away from the dirty datapad he was reading and frowned.

  “What?”

  “Get outside.”

  The Critel blew a puff of frustrated air out through its X-shaped lips but offer no other dissent as he passed by Yammar and opened the door. Nerret gave him a moment to get out before he walked over and extended his lower left hand to Yammar. The two Calavari exchanged a friendly shake, with Nerret adding a pat on the shoulder.

  “What’s wrong?” Yammar asked.

  “Ah…we lost a herd last week. Not too bad, but I’m not made of burgos.”

  “Raiders?”

  “No. We don’t think so anyway. Constable thinks it wasn’t. Hit a transport truck coming in from the north. Lost my driver too, so he couldn’t identify them. They took the livestock but left the truck, tires punctured.”

  “That’s odd.”

  “Very. But 60 Brendilin will go a ways to replenishing my holdings. Assuming you’re still raising the dirt bitters?”

  “I am,” Yammar said, ignoring the derisive comment. Brendilin farmers weren’t held in high esteem, yet everyone liked the taste of the food he provided.

  “Well enough. Assuming they’re not underweight, I can offer you 23 burgos a piece.”

  “I got 29 a month ago.”

  “Yeah, well, I gotta make up for that lost shipment.”

  “Not my problem, Nerret.”

  The yellow Calavari sighed. “No, it isn’t. But business is business.”

  “And I can take mine to Shastafeen if I want.”

  “And risk a run through Raider territory?”

  “I’ve got two very good assistants.”

  “So I’ve heard. They gunned down some poor bastard a couple years ago, didn’t they? Tried to poach one of your dirt bitters?”

  “Tried a bit more than that. My people are a good shot.”

  “Hmmph. Make it 24.”

  “Considering you’re in a bind and we’re friends and all, I’ll go 28. No, make it 27 if you do us the honor of refilling our truck with fuel.”

  Nerret threw his arms wide. “I don’t have the burgos for that.”

  “How many do you have the burgos for?”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know what you meant. I have to make a living too, you know. And the grain alone that these things eat ain’t cheap.”

  “You grow it.”

  “And I can’t sell it when they eat it. 27, deal or no?”

  “So much for me getting rich. It’s a deal at 27.”

  “You’re welcome,” Yammar said, raised an eye ridge at his sometimes friend.

  “Don’t suppose I could hire out your pair of bodyguards for some of my runs?”

  “You’re free to ask, but they’ll say no.”

  “I’m asking you.”

  “I’ve made a point not to give them orders outside my own business.”

  “Pay them that well?”

  “We have an amicable arrangement.”

  “I’m sure. How did you come by them anyway?”

  “A mutual acquaintance. Shall we settle up?”

  “As soon
as Haffa checks back. Business and all. I can’t just take your word for it.”

  “Nor would I take yours,” Yammar said without offense. “About the fuel.”

  “Right,” Nerret said, walking over to the wall behind his desk and pulling out a mobile jabber that he held up to his giant bald head. “Procca, I need fuel for a customer’s truck as soon as possible…and make sure it’s full this time.”

  Yammar looked around the box-like room that Nerret ran his business out of. “Still haven’t found a mate?”

  “Don’t need one with the Freegol Emporium.”

  “It’s not the same thing and you know it. You need someone to look after you because they have your best interests in mind.”

  “Not all of us are as lucky as you.”

  “You have to actively look,” Yammar lectured him.

  “So that’s where I’ve gone wrong all these years…” Nerret said sarcastically.

  Outside Teren held up the gate on the back of the truck as Esna hopped up over the railing and slid inside.

  “Alright you guys, time to go,” she said, shooing one of the Brendilin out and into the chute that led down to a holding pen.

  “Seven,” Haffa said, checking off the size on his datapad.

  Esna scared another one out in front of him, then had to use her boot to get it down the ramp.

  “Six.”

  “Seven,” she countered.

  “Six,” the Critel said firmly.

  “Your eyes say six, my foot says seven.”