The Street Survivors (The Guild Wars Book 12) by Ian Malone (great books of all time TXT) 📕

waited while the bigger aliens joined him onboard. After that, the Caroon fired up the transport’s engine and headed for the tunnel to the mine pit cavern.

“All of you, please exit the passenger transport and prepare to move out,” a green and yellow GenSha said once the car had eased to a halt.

Taylor pegged the alien at once as a mine manager. That was the technical term for the pure souls the KzSha had selected to be the wasps’ eyes and ears among the former’s own peers.

“Why are we here?” one of the Lumar asked, climbing out.

“All will be answered shortly,” the GenSha said. “For now, you need only obey instructions and follow me.”

The Besquith snorted through its nostrils. Still, it didn’t speak up.

Taylor filed off the passenger car with the other aliens, then fell in line behind the GenSha, who led them across the terminus platform and down into the courtyard. From there, the crew marched past the director’s shack and back into the main thoroughfare, seemingly headed toward the actual pit itself.

Ah, dammit. Taylor cringed upon rounding a corner and spotting the bathroom huts ahead. He really wanted no part of that today.

Thankfully, the group was escorted right past the foul little structures toward the far-side loading docks, where they were eventually brought to a halt by the KzSha guards.

“Several of our automated cargo loaders are presently undergoing maintenance and repairs in the topside motor pool,” the GenSha said. “Coincidentally, this morning’s haul has yielded more product than anticipated. Many of these bins, therefore, will need to be loaded onto our trucks manually for transport to the refinery, which is why you’ve all been summoned.”

Taylor studied one of the empty metal bins, resting open on the motionless conveyor. He’d been down in the hole five days, yet even after all that time, he still hadn’t one iota of a clue what this mysterious product was, or why Akoya’s benefactors would’ve seen fit to commit such a hefty sum of resources to mine the stuff.

“Each of you will be divided into pairs for the purposes of fulfilling today’s task,” the GenSha continued. “To that end, you may select your own partner or have one assigned to you. The choice is yours, but decide now.”

The larger aliens shuffled quickly away from the smaller ones, as if the latter were inflicted with some sort of plague. By the time this game of musical slave chairs finally ended, Taylor was left standing alone like the fat kid in dodgeball class.

“Very well,” the mine manager said. “The human shall be assigned to—”

“I will work with him.”

All eyes turned as Haju stepped through the crowd to the forefront.

“You wish to work with the human?” the GenSha asked.

“I do,” Haju said. “I know him to be a strong back and an able worker. He will do fine.”

The mine manger nodded. “As you wish.” He waved to the others. “Everyone take your stations. Our next shipment of product will arrive momentarily.”

Taylor dispersed with the others and started for the far end of the conveyer with Haju. “I appreciate you catchin’ my back like that. I owe you one.”

“Indeed, you do,” the gate master said. “Rest assured I shall hold you to that debt, too.”

Taylor wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that.

“I presume you came here by way of the Osyrys,” Haju said, hushing his voice. “Is she still in orbit?”

Taylor chewed his lip and looked around. No one else was in earshot. “So far as I know, yeah. This whole region was devoid of activity when we arrived, and it needs to stay that way. We’re shorthanded as hell and in no position for a ship-to-ship firefight.”

“On that point, you are in luck,” Haju said. “The KzSha possess but one ship—an outdated frigate. It remains in orbit only long enough to deposit slaves and collect a new shipment of product, then it redeploys to the next culling.”

“When was the ship’s last deployment?” Taylor asked.

“The day before you arrived on Droxis,” Haju said.

Taylor felt a rare bit of relief wash over him. If the KzSha frigate had departed the system the day before the Eagles arrived, it would be another week at least before the vessel returned, per the laws of hyperspace physics.

An alert light flashed as the conveyor started moving. Meanwhile, the first convoy of trucks pulled alongside the loading area.

“Incoming shipment,” the GenSha announced. “Get ready!”

* * *

It took Taylor hauling a single bin to the trucks to understand why the mine manager had divided their crew into teams. The industrial containers—or more aptly, their contents—felt like they weighed a ton. Even the bigger species like the Lumar had problems carrying the crates on their own.

For the better part of the next two hours, Taylor and Haju took turns sidestepping each other’s feet while shifting bins from the conveyer into the truck beds for transport to the refinery. Once one truck was filled, another would shift up in line to take its place, until eventually the final bin had been loaded. After that, the conveyor alert would ring again as another convoy entered the loading bay, and the entire dancing process would begin anew.

Son of a bitch. Taylor hadn’t worked like this since he was eight years old, toting watermelons out of a field by hand, and placing them on a tractor for his uncle. His shoulders and arms were killing him. Still, he soldiered on, wanting no part of the repercussions for doing otherwise.

About halfway through hour four, the crew finally got a reprieve.

“Have you seen any of the others?” Haju asked, collapsing onto a work bench to rest his back and take a few swigs of recovery drink.

“Just Torrio,” Taylor said, doing likewise on a crate. “I saw him on day one down here