Plundering the Planetary Secrets: The Forgotten Planet, #2

CHAPTER 1

Amonth ago, Lafayette Eloi would have sworn she'd never find a less welcoming setting than the dense, muddy jungle her father had brought her to. That was after she had left the only home she had ever known, a village in the grasslands of the southern end of the Great Grassy Sea.

Lafayette was sure if anyone besides the two of them had laid eyes on that jungle, it had been centuries before. Maybe even longer. Because that jungle had filled the crater around the fallen ship her father had worked his entire life to find.

She, along with her mother's dog Kora, had spent a few weeks there alone in a campsite situated in as much of a clearing as those trees provided. The almost daily rain—paired with the overlapping branches of the tree canopy high above that kept out all but the smallest amount of sunlight—had made for a landscape that was always wet and filled with unpleasant smells.

Along with the annoying preponderance of insects and the more dangerous presence of cat-like predators with glider wings that haunted the treetops—and all too frequently, the tree bottoms as well—the grind of just keeping her feet moving through the heavy, boot-sucking mud had made even the shortest of journeys a real slog.

But now Lafayette was back in a grassland. But it wasn't like the grassland she knew from home. This was the unique version of grassland that surrounded the capital city.

And it was, if anything, worse than that jungle.

OK. There was no sucking mud here. It had that going for it.

But the grasses around her here and now were of no type she had ever seen before. The village that had been her childhood home had been surrounded by cultivated grains. But further west, closer to the jungle-filled crater, she had seen wild grasses that had been inedible, but still of a grainy type that looked familiar to her. And for the first part of her journey towards the capital city from the lip of that crater, those same wild grasses had prevailed.

Yet what was dancing all around her now in the stiff, hot breeze was entirely alien to her experience. Although surely her mother must have known it. Her mother had spent years in the capital. And yet, search her mother's journals as she might, Lafayette hadn't found a single mention of what it was she was looking at now.

It was entirely possible this grass was so ordinary to her mother's experience it wouldn't even have occurred to her that anyone would wonder about it.

Lafayette would never really know. Her mother had died before Lafayette even knew this would be a thing she'd liked to have asked.

It felt like a million years ago, the day she had buried her mother among the roots of the tree at the heart of their village.

But it had only been two months. Only a little longer than since she had lost her dad. Although he wasn't dead. He was just… gone.

But Lafayette tried not to think about that. Mostly she failed, but she always tried. She tried to keep her mind anchored in this strange new world around her.

The grass here was taller than any Lafayette had ever seen. It was so tall that even the man she could see a few paces ahead of her standing on top of his wheeled caravan wagon to gaze around couldn't see over the tops of that grass. And yet it wasn't woody like bamboo.

Not that Lafayette had ever seen bamboo, only the sketches in her mother's carefully detailed style in her journal. But the sketches were intricate, fully rendered in color, and all the significant features were labeled in her mother's flowing script. And Lafayette had nearly memorized every page of her mother's journal. She would know bamboo if she saw it now.

No, these grasses grew out of the ground in blades as thick around as Lafayette's thigh. But despite that girth, they maintained edges sharp enough to cut the unwary. And their sap was an irritant. Some people were more reactive to it than others, but Lafayette had seen enough slow-healing wounds on fellow travelers to not want to test her own reaction. She strove to keep herself among the wary. She wore her long-sleeved shirts and canvas pants despite the oppressive heat, and she never ventured out of her tent without her boots protecting her feet.

But the possibility of infected cuts was far from the only danger the grass posed to travelers. In fact, it wasn't even the chief one.

The clumps of the grass were dense, sprouting so close together that those enormous blades would interweave into something like mats, albeit mats with cutting edges it was best to avoid.

It certainly seemed to be impossible to cross that terrain without a lot of work with a scythe or a machete to clear the path before you. And fire would be better. Which was why most travelers stuck to the roads.

And yet, somehow, bandits still found a way to melt into all that green and lie in wait for, again, the unwary. They could slip out of that tangled mass of sharp-edged grass, strike wayward travelers for whatever they wanted to have for themselves, then melt back into the green without so much as a trace of their passing left behind them.

Lafayette didn't know how they did it. But she'd come across more than one wagon left burned out and abandoned on the side of the road. A few had still been smoldering.

So she did what all travelers did who weren't either members of the patrolling law enforcers or weren't themselves traders so wealthy they could afford to hire ex-patrolling law enforcers for their personal security force.

She traveled with as many other people as she could in a caravan of wagons.

Because there was safety in numbers.

But for Lafayette and her late mother's dog Kora, there was also danger in crowds.

So Lafayette tried to have it both ways. She made sure the two of them walked at the back of the line, staying close enough to huddle in for protection if bandits did make an appearance, but as apart as it was reasonable to be from overly curious eyes during the endless days of slow, trudging walking over the dry but fissured and cracked dirt surface of the roads.

Lafayette didn't mind the drudgery. She was good at keeping up a steady pace, one foot in front of the other for as long as it takes.

But lately, she didn't like the way two of the caravan kids in particular kept staring at her and Kora.

Well, mostly Kora.

Kora was a dog, but she wasn't the only dog in the caravan. Lots of the family wagons had a dog or two as part of the group. And some of the others were even part of the patrolling watch that kept an eye out for trouble.

Or, in the case of the dogs, kept their keen hearing and sense of smell attuned for signs of trouble.

But Kora was from the capital originally, and Lafayette had hoped that the long, reddish fur that needed daily brushing to stay neat and free of burrs wouldn't look so out of place as she got closer to the city. Because it always had, back in Lafayette's home village.

But, alas, the other dogs in the caravan were all shades of brown or gray, lanky where Kora was rounder, their tails more rat-like than Kora's curled up fluff of orange and white waves of hair.

And maybe that's all it was that was drawing those children's eyes to her. That she was different. That she was a handsome dog.

But Lafayette could never let herself trust that that was all it was.

Because under the woven mat of dried grass that Lafayette had made herself for Kora to wear, the dog's middle section was all metal. She had machines inside her body that kept her alive after she should've died from a combination of old age and grief at Lafayette's mother's passing.

Kora had always been Lafayette's mother's dog. At the time just after the surgery, Lafayette hadn't been entirely easy in her mind with what her father had done.

He had thought fixing Kora was a kindness to Lafayette, already grieving her mother. But Kora had only wanted to lie down and rest next to the remains of her best friend.

Metal was rare, and machines were rarer still. But they weren't unheard of. Still, seeing Kora moving around again had unnerved Lafayette's neighbors enough that it had been just as well Lafayette chose to leave with her father and never go back.

But even as she got closer to the capital, most of the wagons in the caravan around her were still rolling on wheels, not floating on hover discs. Most had engines that drove the axles, but there were a few closer to the back being pulled by oxen.

Kora, with her metal body, didn't fit in here any more than she had back home. So Lafayette kept her covered up. The parts that kept her alive were all things that people would understand if she explained them to the curious lookers on. But those questions might lead to other questions. Questions about her father.

Questions she absolutely did not want to get into. At least not until she'd had a conversation with her father's mentor in the capital city. She needed his advice on what she could say and what had to stay secret.

Because she was really afraid that almost all of it would be safer kept secret.

But more than just keeping her organs alive, Kora also had another, very different kind of machine inside her. One that contained something called a construct—a ghostly yet somehow living thing—of a schoolteacher that Lafayette had rescued from the fallen ship before it had taken off back into space.

The construct she had saved when she hadn't been able to save her own father. He was still trapped on that ship, trapped up in space, where every night Lafayette could watch the dot of light that was him crossing the sky.

That construct was something Lafayette was sure none of these people had ever seen before. She would bet anything that even in the capital city itself, it would attract attention. Even though it couldn't project as an image anymore, it could talk through Kora. And that was impossible to explain away as just part of her robot half. A robot was a machine. A construct was something so much more.

Keeping it secret was paramount. The only thing that mattered more was getting to the capital city alive. Which meant dealing with the presence of others.

Lafayette had covered every bit of metal across Kora's mid section with that grass mat so as not to draw curious eyes or attract uncomfortable questions.

But she had also rigged two packs together into a pair of saddlebags of sorts, and Kora carried those as they walked. Not that Lafayette couldn't have fit everything in her own wheelbarrow. But it helped explained the grass mat as something like a saddle blanket. And, what with the hover disc keeping her belly up off the ground so that her paws barely needed to carry her weight, Kora didn't mind the weight.

Still, those two kids had been looking Kora's way far too often over the last few days. Lafayette didn't like it. If they had seen a glint of metal, wouldn't they just have assumed it was from one of the pack buckles or something?

The two kids were siblings, riding in the same caravan wagon when they weren't walking. And they had the same tattered short pants from too many close passes to the blades of grass at the sides of the road, the same shapeless short-sleeved tunics in mottled shades of green.

The same bowl-like haircut. Honestly, if they were brothers, sisters, or one of each, it was impossible for Lafayette to tell.

But they had the same piercing green eyes. The eyes that were always silently watching.

And Lafayette just couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to happen.

Of course she was right about that. She had to be. It was the way the world worked.

It was always only a matter of time before something had to happen. It was just a question of when.

And from what direction it would come.

CHAPTER 2

Lafayette was just slowing her steps so she and Kora could fall a little bit further behind, away from those kids, when she felt in her bones more than heard with her ears a hush settle over the entire caravan.

Then she saw hands raise up and fists close—the signal to hunker down and be silent—rippling its way down the caravan line.

Lafayette gently set down the handles of her wheelbarrow and took a step closer to Kora. And regretted she no longer had her father's shock stick. Not that she could do much with it. It would knock a person down, but just one. Still, she would've felt better just having something in her hands.

She wanted to ask if Kora sensed anything. She could see the dog's ears shifting. She could hear the snuffling sound of her nose scenting the air.

But, even if Lafayette wanted to risk a quick exchange of words, Kora was terrible at whispering.

So Lafayette held her tongue and relied on her own senses for the moment. She swept her gaze all around them, and tried to do the same with her ears and nose.

The blades of grass curved over the road, not quite enough to make a tunnel of green over the rutted path, but enough to make the air feel close. Humid. She could hear the breeze that rustled through the tops of the grass, making the blades scrape together in a way that almost sounded like singing. But she couldn't feel it. It didn't reach her. There wasn't the faintest stirring of air to cool the heat of her sweaty skin.

Then Lafayette realized that, as much as the humans and dogs around her had gone quiet on command, the insects she should be hearing droning all around them were silent as well.

Despite the heat, she felt an icy chill run up her spine. Maybe it wasn't a false alarm this time. As large as their caravan was, maybe this particular group of bandits were numerous enough to feel confident in taking them despite the patrollers visibly carrying rifles and needle guns.

Or worse, these bandits were desperate enough to try anyway. In which case, even if they failed and were driven off, people were going to get hurt.

People always got hurt.

Lafayette dropped to one knee and put an arm around Kora's neck. Kora leaned into her as if grateful for the comforting gesture. Which was ironic, since Lafayette had done it so that Kora could comfort her.

But they were in this together. And that was its own comfort.

The seconds ticked by, only the drip of sweat down Lafayette's back marking the time. The members of the caravan who were walking the patrol peered into the impenetrable green of the grasslands, taking careful steps in their soft-soled shoes that made no sound at all. They exchanged looks with each other and occasionally another hand sign or two. Questions and answers.

But mostly they exchanged shakes of their heads.

Then, again starting somewhere in the front of the train, the sound of murmuring voices returned, followed by rattles and clanks as all the different wagons and carts got back underway.

False alarm, someone—an older man—grumbled from somewhere up ahead of Lafayette. Another false alarm.

Better than the alternative, a woman grumbled back at him. But she had pitched her voice even lower than his.

Lafayette made one last attempt to stare further than three meters into the grass around the road, but had to give it up as fruitless. She couldn't see a thing. Whatever had just almost happened would have to remain a mystery to her.

But with the way the insects had gone silent, something had definitely been close. Maybe not bandits. Maybe a lone traveler who didn't like the look of their caravan. Or maybe some sort of animal. But something had been out there. Something had been watching them with purpose. And then that something had slunk away.

Come on, Kora, Lafayette said as she bent to pick up the handles of her wheelbarrow.

Kora said nothing. But she wagged her curl of a tail, then fell into step beside Lafayette. If there was something a little too jaunty in her trotting steps, Lafayette didn't have the heart to tell her to plod more.

Lafayette was plodding enough for both of them. Kora, with all the gray from her previous old age thoroughly gone from her lush red hair after becoming half-robot, looked puppy-like enough to explain her ceaseless energy.

But those kids were still watching from the back of the wagon in front of Lafayette. And their unwavering attention was starting to edge Lafayette's annoyance over into real anger.

If they had questions, they should just come out and ask. Staring was rude.

And she really didn't want to know what came after the staring failed to satisfy their curiosity.

There were no more false alarms, although sunset had faded to a barest hint of indigo to the west before they reached the roughly maintained clearing of chopped down grass that was their designated campsite.

Lafayette parked her wheelbarrow outside the ring of caravan wagons, and Kora looked up at her with a question in her dark brown eyes.

Lafayette said nothing. She just set about unpacking and putting up her little tent.

The roomy tent she had started her journey with was long gone, traded for this smaller tent just big enough for her and Kora to curl up in together. The family she had traded with had given her what, at the time, had felt like an enormous