Free Guardians (Caretaker Chronicles Book 2) by Josi Russell Page A

noticing, Kaia,” he gestured toward the spaceport towering above
them, its elevators shining in the afternoon sun, “our ship was not supposed to
get here, and neither were we.”
    “But—”
    “No, think about it. Everyone else who has come
to Minea has had work waiting for them when they arrived. They were carefully
chosen to fill their roles here and make the society work. Think about your
passengers. What is Silas’s great gift? Motivational speaking. What, is he
going to talk the Yynium out of the ground? And Minz? Who needs a laundry
manager when there’s a sanitizer in every home?” Yi Zhe’s voice was tinged with
bitterness, as if his wife had left behind a germ of it and he had become,
suddenly, infected.
    He sighed heavily and Kaia, still not skilled at
interpersonal communication after all her years alone, simply shook her head.
She wanted to tell him that he was needed, that they all had important parts to
play, but she knew their reality was contradicting that. Many of her passengers
had left Coriol, and she didn’t know what they were doing, but of those who had
stayed, none were doing what they were known for back on Earth. Some had gotten
work in the mines or fields; some were starving, scraping by on odd jobs or
charity. She’d given some of them scrip herself.
    She knew she was lucky that her father had his
work in the military. She knew she was lucky that once in a while Saras Company
would ask for her skills as an engineering consultant. She knew that she was
lucky to have the scrip they brought in. But until that moment in the junkyard,
she hadn’t realized how lucky she was that her passion, her life’s work, was
valued by the creators of Coriol. That this allowed her to continue to do it
and to contribute in the way she chose to society.
    Yi Zhe had rearranged the robot parts on the
ground, and when she looked down, she saw exactly the ones she needed. Only one
line of parts he had made seemed complete. The round head, the rectangular
body, the rods, the shiny plate, and the chip of glass all came together to
form in her mind into a perfect little gift for the children.
    As she gathered them, Kaia checked her missive
again. If she left now, she would have just enough time to swing by the
Employment Office and still make it for lunch. She paid Yi Zhe, thanked him,
and reminded him of the importance of his skills. He shrugged off the praise
and took the scrip.
    Kaia thought about his words all the way home.
Were her passengers useless? She thought through the ones who had stayed in
Coriol, thinking about their gifts, their contributions back on Earth, catalogued
in the applications they had submitted to be considered, which she had read
over and over again when she was fighting the loneliness of her journey.
    They didn’t have a neat slot to fit in when they
arrived. There was no movie industry to welcome the actors, no galleries for
the artwork of the painters and sculptors, no laundries or newspapers or professional
sports leagues where their skills were needed.
    Kaia sat heavily on the bench in the sol train
station. She called it the “sahl” train, but most people in Coriol pronounced
it “soul” train. Though most of them had never heard of the old Earth show that
she had watched from the ship’s archives, it still always made her smile. She
set the bag of robot parts down beside her. She saw now why there had been such
an eclectic mix of professions on Ship 12-22. The delegation in charge of
appeasing the Alorans had chosen humanity’s sacrifice carefully, sending people
they didn’t need. Her passengers were expendable.
    She got off at the next station and switched
lines, heading for the Health and Human Services District. Among the hospitals
and clinics there was the Saras Employment Office. Though she’d never been
there, she knew they knew who she was, and perhaps she could put in a word for
her passengers there. Surely there was some work for them, somewhere.
    She