Venturers Page 8

  “May we discuss it?” I asked hopefully.

  Freya smiled. “Indeed.”

  The five of us wandered off to the side of the path and stood underneath the welcome shade of a palm-like tree, its leaves blowing in the warm breeze. It was nice to be out of the sun’s glare. My bare skin was already hot, although I wasn’t too concerned about getting a sunburn, given that I always tanned pretty well on Earth.

  “What do you think?” I asked, addressing the group.

  Lauren answered first. “It sounds like a reasonable trade. Way better than that stupid bust Pandora gave us. I’m sure she did that just to get us in trouble,” she muttered.

  “I think it’s more likely she didn’t even realize how insensitive it was,” I said, aware that Pandora was probably listening in. A rumble of agreement passed through the group. Pandora was a coldblood through and through; she didn’t care about the feelings of other species.

  “Well, I think it’s a decent trade, too,” Angie chimed in. “A bit of our sweat for a bit of their blood.”

  “They’re definitely a lot more accommodating than I thought they’d be,” Bashrik remarked, his gaze falling on Freya and Ginji, who were standing at the lip of the valley path, their eyes facing out toward the ships.

  Angie grinned. “Not so bad after all, right?”

  “No, not so bad after all,” Bashrik agreed, their eyes locking suddenly. “But, Rask, are they strong! I’d heard the legends, but I never believed it until I saw it for myself,” he said, shifting uncomfortably.

  “Who knows, maybe there’s a musclebound Draconian down there for me,” Angie teased, nudging him playfully in the arm.

  Poor Bashrik looked confused, struggling with Angie’s banter. One moment she was blowing hot, the next she was blowing cold. Regardless, the whole thing was very entertaining to watch. I hoped they’d get their act together at some point and just tell each other how they felt.

  “Navan, what do you think?” I asked, realizing he’d been oddly silent about the new trade.

  He sighed, glancing toward the valley of vessels. “I’m not sure. I don’t—” he started to say, when a figure came hurtling down the path from the temple. It was another young male Draconian, about the same age as Ginji, though this one had burnished orange scales covering his skin. He barreled past, skidding to a halt in front of Freya and Ginji.

  “Cambien,” he hissed. Freya’s cool façade fell away, leaving a mask of fear, though she covered it quickly.

  She moved toward us. “I must go,” she said, giving a low bow before hurrying up the path the disciple had just come down. Ginji watched her and the orange-scaled acolyte leave but made no move to follow.

  “Shouldn’t you go with her?” I asked.

  Ginji shook his head. “She did not instruct me to. I only do as I am instructed,” he reasoned, though it sounded like something a kid would say to get out of doing something they didn’t want to do. Either way, it gave us a much-needed opportunity to get some broader answers to our questions.

  “How come you don’t speak very much?” I asked, sitting down on the grass in the shade of the palm-like tree. Freya wouldn’t be back for a while, by the looks of things, so I figured we might as well get comfortable. Uncertainly, Ginji sat down in front of me, with the others following suit, until we were all cross-legged in a circle.

  “Each word has more value when fewer are used,” he explained, picking at a few blades of grass and nervously glancing over his shoulder.

  “That’s a nice sentiment, unless you need a lot of information,” I said with a laugh, and I was pleased to see my words had made Ginji smile, too. The poor kid looked like he could do with a good old-fashioned giggle.

  “What caused the opaleine corruption?” Navan interjected. Ginji kept his eyes on me, ignoring Navan completely.

  “Kid, what caused the rocks to turn black like that?” Bashrik tried, speaking louder, his tone impatient. Ginji ignored him too, his dark silver scales bristling up his neck, like he was a porcupine getting ready to attack.

  Lauren leaned toward him. “What caused the corruption of the opaleine, Ginji?” she asked kindly. The young Draconian’s amber eyes flitted toward her, his scales flattening.

  “The corruption was punishment for the sickness we caused,” he said. Clearly, he had a problem answering any question that came from a coldblood, though he didn’t seem to mind too much if one of us girls asked. Even though he couldn’t have known what we were, I supposed, to a Draconian, anything was better than a Vysanthean.

  “You mean the plague that chased the coldbloods away?” I ventured.

  Ginji nodded. “The corruption is our punishment. We did not deserve our gift any longer,” he replied, casting a sideways glance at Navan. He opened his mouth, as if to say something to Navan, but Angie stepped in.

  “What caused the plague in the first place?” she asked quickly.

  Ginji looked up at her, distracted. “We do not tell outsiders. Our methods are secret and sacred,” he said, casting another nervous glance over his shoulder. At least that confirmed the plague was something the Draconians created, rather than a naturally occurring virus. It was a small victory for knowledge, but it made me feel way better about having taken the suits off.

  “Making a plague to destroy the Vysantheans probably seems like a pretty stupid thing to do, now, doesn’t it?” Bashrik remarked. “You should have known there wasn’t a loophole. You’re either pacifists, or you’re not. You can’t pick and choose,” he added. I stared at him in disbelief, not knowing whether he realized a word he was saying. Even Navan seemed shocked by the outburst.

  Ginji scowled, his eyes burning with rage. “We did not do anything! We stayed strong in the face of everything you did! We let you come here and take what wasn’t yours! We prayed and did nothing! The Lunaris sect was not responsible, though we suffer regardless,” he snapped.

  Before Bashrik could rile the poor boy any further, I scooted forward and put my hand on his back, making small circles, wanting to comfort him. “Don’t listen to him, Ginji. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” I soothed, feeling the boy’s lungs jolt with every sharp intake of breath. “Now, can you tell me what you mean when you say the Lunaris sect wasn’t responsible?”

  Ginji looked up at me with teary eyes. “The Pyros did it. They fought back. We did not,” he said miserably. Bashrik looked surprised, realizing he’d upset the boy.

  “The Pyros?” Lauren asked, intrigued.

  Ginji nodded, wiping his eyes. “They live near the volcano, Mount Kusuburi. They created the sickness, not the Lunaris. They caused the corruption,” he muttered bitterly, though there was sadness beneath his anger.

  Suddenly, Ginji got to his feet, brushing the grass from the back of his tunic. Freya was coming back down the path, and though he’d had his back to her, I guessed he had sensed her returning. He dipped his head, wiping the last of the tears from his eyes, as the rest of us got back up.

  “Apologies. Trials plague every life,” she said, stopping beside us.

  “Is everything all right?” I asked, looking up toward the temple.

  She gave a slight nod. “Yes. Are decisions made?”

  I looked at Navan. He’d been about to say something before the disciple had come to take Freya away, but it seemed the moment had passed. A flicker of uncertainty remained on his face, but he was the one who replied.

  “We are willing to exchange our knowledge and expertise in technology for a sample of your blood,” he confirmed. Again, given what she’d told us about bargaining, I expected to hear Pandora’s voice reprimanding us through the earpieces, but it never came. Surely, that had to be a good sign?

  “A few vials in payment,” Freya suggested, placing her hands together and bowing in gratitude.

  He smiled. “A few vials would be perfect, Freya. Thank you.”

  “A special ritual will occur,” she insisted, coming up from her bow.

  Bashrik flashed his brother
a worried look. “You want to do a special ritual for us to do the mechanical work, or for the blood extraction?” he asked, confused. It did take a lot to gauge the true meaning of what Freya said, but then I guessed that was the point.

  She smiled, amused. “Blood is precious,” she said, making me wonder if she was toying with Bashrik in her own secret way. Was she deliberately being elusive with him, to satisfy some deep-set grudge she had to have, somewhere inside her? Hell, Earth had only half been invaded by coldblood rebels, and I definitely held a grudge against them.

  “Can you do that today?” Bashrik pressed.

  Freya shook her head. “Can you?” she retorted, her tone still calm.

  Navan chuckled. “No, we can’t do the mechanical work in a day, just as you can’t prepare for your ritual in a day. We understand that. My brother is a little tired from the long journey.” He put a friendly arm around Bashrik’s shoulders.

  “Accommodations will be prepared,” Freya promised.

  “How long are we staying?” Angie asked, her expression worried. I was worried too. Pandora wasn’t going to like us lingering on the planet’s surface longer than necessary, out of her sight, but if she wanted the blood, this was the way things had to be. Besides, if she had a problem, she should’ve come down and figured things out herself.

  “One night,” Freya replied.

  A surge of hope flooded through me. This was our chance as a group to plan without Pandora lurking around every corner. We just had to figure out a way of communicating without her listening in. Although I couldn’t feel the earpiece anymore, I knew it was there, and she was on the other end, hearing every word. There had to be a way around it.

  With the promise of a comfortable bed, something good to eat, and the prospect of getting away from our omnipresent warden, we moved down a path that led to the right of the valley’s edge, following the line of palm-like trees. Freya walked in the opposite direction, heading back toward the temple, where she was likely most needed in this time of intense Draconian grief. However, we still had Ginji as our guide, his silver scales flashing beneath the sunlight like minnows darting in a stream.

  “Where exactly is your new destination?” Navan asked on our way to our lodging. Ginji ignored him, prompting Navan to nudge me in the shoulder. “Will you ask him?” he whispered, his brow furrowed in concern.

  I smiled. “Ginji, where exactly are all those ships headed? I know you said ‘Irrith’, but where is that?” I asked, hoping for a real answer.

  Ginji stopped in his tracks, lifting a golden pendant over his head and holding it flat in the palm of his gray-skinned hand. “It is here,” he explained, pressing down on the center of the pendant. A spray of projected lights rose up, just visible in the shade of the palm-like tree above us.

  “Is this a celestial map?” Navan asked, his tone impressed.

  Ginji nodded reluctantly. “It is this one,” he continued, gesturing toward a particular dot in the spray of universal dots that had emerged from the pendant. It didn’t mean much to me. In fact, it all looked the same—they were just pretty, bright lights projected into the air. After showing Navan the dot in question, Ginji pressed the pendant again, and the lights disappeared.

  With that, he put the necklace back over his head and continued along the edge of the valley, heading for our lodging. I was about to follow him, but I froze at the sight of Navan’s face. He was staring at us, his face a mask of horror.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” I asked, taking hold of his hand.

  “Earth,” he whispered. “He means Earth.”

  Chapter Nine

  They’re going to Earth?” I gasped in disbelief. “How can that be right? She definitely said ‘Irrith’.”

  Navan shook his head. “It’s her thick accent. To us, it sounded like ‘Irrith’, but she meant Earth. Think about it.”

  He was right. It was her accent. Thanks to the mysterious language technology, every word the Draconians had spoken to us was in perfect, albeit heavily accented, English—but it was definitely English. Now that I replayed Freya’s voice in my head, I could hear the mistake. She had been saying “Earth” all along.

  “Ginji, may I ask you something?” I called out, making the young Draconian stop and hurry back to where we stood. He looked worried.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  I smiled, forcing the concern from my face. “Not at all. I was just curious about the planet you pointed out to Navan. What is it called again?” I wanted to hear him say it, just to be certain.

  “Irrith,” he said simply. His voice had a similar accent to Freya’s, and the two words were definitely too comparable to ignore.

  “Earth?” I replied.

  He frowned, as though I were an idiot. “That is what I said. Irrith.”

  I could hear it, clear as day: Earth.

  “Thank you, Ginji,” I said, trying to keep my tone calm. “Please, go on ahead. We’ll follow this time.”

  Giving an awkward bow, Ginji continued along the palm-lined pathway, his pace brisk. The five of us followed after him, though a solemn tension bristled between us. This definitely wasn’t the news we’d been expecting. More than that, I couldn’t wrap my head around why everyone was so eager to go to Earth. Weren’t there other planets, equally nice, that they could invade instead? It was beginning to get on my nerves. We were supposed to be relatively primitive, in comparison to the rest of the universe, so why did they have to pick on us? Maybe that was exactly why. With our inferior technology, perhaps they knew we couldn’t do much about it. Even the pacifist Draconians must have guessed they could take over without much resistance—unless they had no idea what to expect when they got there.

  With a shudder of dread, I thought of Earth’s armies joining forces to destroy the invaders, not realizing they were peaceful. Tanks would fill the streets, planes would fill the skies, and it would likely all end with several mushroom clouds. It wasn’t a particularly nice thought.

  “We need to convince them not to go to Earth,” I whispered as we walked along. True, it would take them a year to reach Earth, given their lesser ship technology, but I was done with aliens moving in on my home planet.

  Angie nodded. “Definitely. I doubt our world leaders have come to terms with the idea of little green men in flying saucers. Imagine what they’d do to real live, half-dragon people!” she hissed.

  “It’s a recipe for disaster. The Draconians are peaceful, but Earth won’t see them that way. They’ll want to use their biggest nukes, or round them up like animals, and I’m not willing to put them through that—not after everything they’ve already gone through,” Lauren agreed.

  It looked like I wasn’t the only one who doubted Earth’s friendliness toward an actual alien species. I rooted for our race, and was proud to be human, but I also knew that humans often didn’t learn from their past mistakes, and there were too many people in power who feared difference and newness. The Draconians would be annihilated, simply due to the fact that they wouldn’t fight back.

  With anxious thoughts racing through my mind, and the constant knowledge that Pandora was listening to every word, I pressed on with the others down the pretty, crushed-shell pathway. The track meandered into the depths of the jungle that surrounded the temple. Here, the heat was almost oppressive, the humidity trapped in by the flora all around us, but it was too beautiful to be annoying. Exotic blooms brightened the walk, filling the air with a sugary scent, while the warm breeze rustled the frond-like leaves. Now and again, one of those colorful, monkey-like creatures would stop and whoop at us, whipping its weird, feathery tail as it called out.

  Ten minutes later, we arrived at a clearing in the jungle terrain. Set in a semicircle were six quaint huts, their roofs thatched with dried-out palm fronds, the structures made of pale wood. They looked inviting, like we were on safari or something. The air was filled with the sounds of the jungle creatures. Even so, I couldn’t keep my mind off the thought that the Draconians
were headed for Earth. It was killing any happy buzz I might have had at the sight of such pretty lodges and the prospect of some alone time with Navan.

  Ginji came to a halt in front of a side path tucked away between the first two lodges to the left. “This path leads to the Eternal Springs. There, you may revive your souls and refresh your weary hearts,” he explained, pointing down the pathway.

  I had to admit, that sounded good. “Thank you, Ginji.”

  He bowed. “Now I must leave you. Rest well and restore yourselves. Tomorrow, the hard work begins,” he said, before disappearing down the main track back up to the temple.

  “So, who’s having which hut?” Angie asked, a false grin on her face. Evidently, she was worrying about Earth, too.

  Before any of us could answer, a crackle disrupted our peace, the screech of feedback stinging our ears, causing us to grimace. A second later, Pandora’s stern voice drifted through our ears. “Have the Draconians left?” she asked.

  “We’re alone,” I replied, the irony not lost on me.

  “Right, well, I’ve been listening to everything that’s been going on during your little Zaian excursion, and I have found a suitable solution to our predicament: the Draconians cannot be allowed to leave for Earth. With that in mind, you are going to have to destroy every single ship, to prevent that from happening,” she instructed, barely missing a beat. “I’ve scanned the local area and seen the valley that your high priestess spoke of. They all must be blown up—they cannot be allowed to take off. The rebel base does not need anyone else using up their resources.”

  I gritted my teeth, wanting to make a smart remark. The human race did not need the rebels using up their resources, but that wasn’t stopping them. Why should they have the monopoly on alien exploitation?

  “Won’t they just build more ships, Pandora?” Navan remarked flatly, though his eyes betrayed his loathing.