Page 30 of Moon Tamed

Something must have happened to turn a bad situation worse. “They’re allowing mass direct hops?”

“They’ve reached the point of no return. Some lost is better than all lost, and while we didn’t qualify as a mass refugee planet, we appealed, petitioned to quarantine Moonriver, and got approval to bring in evacuees that have nowhere else to go. I flung those words at the government entities, and they decided I was right. Some lost is better than all lost, and there’s nowhere else for them to go. I’ll be making a statement tomorrow. Inoculation clinics will open at nightfall. Earth is sending enough of their vaccines along with the refugees to vaccinate everyone within the city limits, and they’re sending everything they’ve got. While vaccination won’t be mandatory, I’m pulling an asshole card: those who are vaccinated won’t have any medical bills if they do get sick. Exceptions for allergies and medical reasons will be permitted, but no other excuse will be considered. I figure most will vaccinate, but they’ll add it to their list of reasons why I should retire.”

I frowned, as I couldn’t remember the last time anyone from the media or elsewhere, excepting his son, had made any serious mention of him stepping down.

What a mess. What could I say without making it clear why I’d been assigned to work for the Hunters?

The man chuckled. “Your father knows about the evaluation, so don’t feel like you need to be quiet. With your experience with most major factions and your stalwart professionalism, your report will be respected—and everyone knows you don’t lie about your work. You may be unaffiliated, but you have earned a good reputation among the faction leaders across the city. If they have something sensitive, they know to request you. What you don’t know, you learn. What you can’t learn, you seek assistance with. And if you can’t find someone to help you, you do your best to learn anyway.”

I needed to do something about my reputation, which came across as a little too good for my comfort. “Dad, remind me to run wild after my current assignment. I have become an unbalanced being.”

My father chuckled and shook his head. “Good luck with following through on that. You love your trickery, but you absolutely cannot stand disappointing or upsetting people. It’s a miracle you’re willing to prank your mother and me. My advice? Take Allasandro for all he’s worth. Turn over all those rocks and expose how utterly corrupt he is.”

Allasandro Stephans? Corrupt? A laugh burst out of me. “His status as a single father is the only real crime I have uncovered so far. We could auction off dates with him for charity to help the displaced animals and find or build homes for the refugees. We’d make a fortune.”

My father’s eyes narrowed, and he directed his attention to Moonriver’s ruler. “Allasandro?”

While it took him a few minutes, the man shrugged. “Why not? It’s for charity. I’ll toss something together for the statement. It’s a good idea, Coraline. Evil, but good. This is like unleashing the peacock on your parents but far worse.”

“Lucky is a gift that will keep on giving. Just wait until they have baby peacocks running around. Then they’ll realize the full extent of my evil. But being serious. When do you plan to sleep?” I asked.

“Tonight? For about three hours before they open the portal. Wish me luck. I’m going to need it.”

SIX

We were the last.

Once upon a time, someone had attempted to explain how magic and science blended together to open a rift allowing people to traverse space in the blink of an eye. In reality, most went through a series of ten hops to reach Earth or return to Korsania Minor. Knowing some wouldn’t survive the journey somehow worsened the tragedy and made the disaster killing Earth all the more real.

An hour ago, shortly after I’d arrived on site to help with the influx of animals, people, and supplies, the entirety of a five-block radius surrounding the portal had gone under cordon. Everyone who entered the zone would be quarantined for a month and receive vaccinations as soon as the crates carrying them were identified. Until the portal opened and the transfer began, nobody knew what to expect.

How many had survived? How many had gotten a chance to escape to our world?

In the dwindling hours, Moonriver had rounded up every vaccine available, which would help twenty thousand newcomers battle off our various illnesses. Rumor had it clinics on the outskirts of the city were scrounging up more. In hushed whispers, most hoped every dose would be needed—that we could do more than just rescue wildlife and watch the news.

The portal opened when expected, and the first of the arrivals passed through. In a breach of our general tech level, Earth had provided advanced hover freighters, ones that could pass through the portals without a living operator.

I doubted anyone cared.

The sleek machines carried our dead, serving to remind us we faced disaster. Like the volunteers accepting quarantine, the families of the deceased waited to receive their loved ones.

Between the unloading process and figuring out how to send the freighter back across to Earth for the next load of bodies and basic supplies, the procession lasted an hour.

Then the real work began.

According to the limited transmissions we’d gotten from Earth, we expected a major influx of animals. Earth delivered, but every crate came with a human. The animals who could walk did, accompanied by people holding onto leashes or lead lines. Domesticated cats came either carried in the arms of their owners or in carriers.

Some birds came in cages, and a few enterprising survivors flew through, securing their own salvation. I expected we’d have to hunt the strays down, catching them and making sure they could be released into the wild. Evidence of ash coated some of the surviving animals and people, and medical staff intercepted them for the additional care they surely needed.

Those who had been born on Korsania Minor reported in, and when they’d finished coming through, hope crashed through the crowd.

Outside a few animals no one had expected to survive, no one had died during passage.

The refugees came next, and like our people, they carried what they could over with them, most choosing to leave their physical possessions behind to carry children and animals through. Within four hours, thirty-two thousand refugees arrived in our city. Forty-two perished from the trauma of passage.

Witnessing the deaths would haunt me, as would helping to move the fallen out of the way so that we could continue to bring in who we could. Long after we thought the stream should have ended, supplies and refugees continued to pass through, and the harried state of the straggling arrivals warned us the end neared.

The doctors and veterinarians battling for the lives of everyone to go through passed through last, and the older man at the end turned, pressed his hand to the control panel, and deactivated it, moving with the speed of someone understanding every second mattered. The archway darkened, but not before ash plumed through, sending those nearest scattering. After a few more presses of a button, a bowed head, and what had to be a prayer, he did something I never thought I would witness.

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