I felt a small, sharp poke on my cheek. I swatted, missing whatever hand it belonged to as my knuckles sailed into the ground, into concrete. I winced as the injured muscles in my upper arm involuntarily tensed.
All at once, I registered the familiar and wholly unexpected sensations around me: Gravity was too light. My hand flew too hard and I sat up too fast. I felt dizzy before I realized it. The air was damp and cool, wafts of warm air blowing by at seeming random. The air smelled faintly of oil and electrically burned particulates. And there was the unmistakable, distant, terrible din of an ever active city—the sounds of ships, vehicles, people, and machines.
I didn't understand how, but I was on Plott.
"Jom, you drink or something? Only stupid sleep street."
And of course, I had the misfortune of waking up next to a kjanxe speaking B-Copan.
Holding my head, I looked at the kid, waiting for my vision to stabilize. He couldn’t have been more than a denlol over a loliel. He scooted back, hugging his knees as he sat crouched. His eyes were brown-flecked-blue, like a puppy’s, and practically glowed. Maybe he was even younger than a loliel.
“Where am I?”
“Alley.”
I scoffed. “Thanks.”
He shrugged.
“What, you don’t know where you are?”
“I here. I see you, wake you. We here alley.” B-Copan may be the worst dialect in the galaxy, but at least it’s concise.
I stood carefully and slowly, holding both my arm and head, trying to avoid another wave of dizziness. I failed. “Please, do me a favor and tell me we are on Mansheon.”
The boy tilted his head, sitting straight. He seemed to be weighing my words. Then he grinned, “We are on Mansheon.”
I should’ve expected that from a puppy.
“Plott?”
He nodded, still grinning. “You drink, huh?”
“No, I am not drunk,” I snapped. “Get lost!”
Suddenly, he was glaring. He went from dog to cat. I watched as his pupils constricted right down to slits when he stood. His long ears lowered just a bit and his tail thumped against the trash bins behind him. He stepped forward.
“Now you wait a minute.” Backing up, I was afraid that he’d attack the moment I turned around. He may have been tiny, but he was still a kjanxe.
“Be sorry.”
“I am sorry,” I nodded, “and I am going to be the one to go away.”
Taking the chance, I took my leave by rushing toward the street and casting my eyes skyward to gain my bearings. There was no sky—or, rather, no projection of sky—and that meant I was below the modern surface. The lack of anyone on the street meant I was on a street more than a couple levels down below. The farther into the old levels, the less life. That explained the kid. He was just some street rat that probably strayed away from his family group of squatters.
How in death did I get to Plott? I went over the day in my mind, attempting to cast aside the headache quickly joining a steadily growing list of soreness and aches. I was exercising with the group, running up and down those Eight-forsaken stairs. I took a blissful moment of rest with Jiaal before…
It was day seven. Micje, Kama, Panda, Jiaal, and I were on our third run up the stairs. We sat down. Micje, Kama, and Panda left Jiaal and me alone. Jiaal got it in her head that I should hear more about her Earth. Then…
I stopped walking to turn around, looking toward the alley I’d just left in an attempt to jog my memory before turning around again. I paced back and forth.
Surely there was… a reason…
Where was Jiaal? Where was anyone? Did I… go on an interplanetary bender?
No, of course not, but…
Oh, screw this. I could figure out the story later. Right now, all I needed to do was focus on getting back to Mansheon. At least it was only Plott. A planet hop wouldn’t be expensive to book at all.
I reached for my paper-sleeve to connect to the planet's network, book my transport, and put this, whatever this was, behind me.
Except the sleeve was gone. And the Balewez cuff was broken, smashed in such a way that suggested I fell on it during my blackout. Somehow, I felt I should have expected that. I really, really should have expected that.
Well, I was going to have to hike to the docks anyway. I'll just buy my ticket there.
With a sigh, I headed for the stairwell at the dilapidated side of a building. It vibrated, hummed, and banged from the life and activity stacked above. Halfway up, the dirty city smell was quickly covered over by a mix of scents so varied, I knew I was emerging in a good district. Knowing the vast majority of food available on Plott, everything about it would be insalubrious.
And yet, when I came upon a man huddled over himself with a bowl full of gooey bread and kimmen meat, my stomach got vocal.
Seemingly drawn by that growl, the man looked up. "There you are," he all but shouted, tossing his food over the railing. "It's about time you showed up!"
I leaned back, looking the man over. Even sitting, he was tall. He had long legs, long arms, thick muscles, a strong nose, and just slightly too large a head. I didn't recognize him at all. "Do I know you?"
"Yes, and no. It's complicated." He stood and descended the steps to meet me, grabbing my hand with an enthusiastic yet offbeat shake. He grabbed my hand, not my wrist. His strange accent was familiar, but I couldn't place from where.
"Complicated," I repeated. "Who are you, then?"
"Arim Ta'ash," he grinned, side-long and wide, "and I'm the hero of this story."
Zega’s headquarters was more interesting on the inside than the front wall made it seem. On the outside, it seemed a property so massive that reaching a single corner seemed like a mythical journey. But from an aerial view, there were courtyards and towers and grids and I couldn’t begin to fathom everything that the property might’ve actually housed. Maybe Mansheon was Sa’cra’s Texas. Everything seemed bigger on Mansheon.
I sat on the stairs that led to a courtyard outside the housing tower. As I understood, two of the levels were like a dormitory for recruits, then most of the rest of it were tiny apartments for the full-fledged members that spent most of their time on the planet. I wondered just how many of these housing units were scattered across the galaxy, and if any members ever lived outside of them.
I was waiting on word from Director Rorn on where exactly I should start going or who I was supposed to be working with. And so, my day had become far too quiet.
I may have run headlong into this. And he was right. This was dumb. Besides my apparent brand new superpower, what did I have to offer people who knew the galaxy like the back of their hand and ran around it every day? Where did we even start to look for Eagle or Steele? And then how do we get them to stop their plans that we didn’t even understand? Did I… Did I make a mistake? The worst part was I knew—I knew I couldn't backpedal at this point, so the second-guessing was useless. But I couldn’t stop.
Mercifully, someone cut my spiraling short.
“You are Jiaal, are you not?”
Looking through the skinny, twisted stone balusters, a group of four—two humans and two qicuqop—stood in the center of the courtyard. Well, she had good eyes.
I stood, taking a few tentative steps down the stairs. “I am.”
The woman at the front of the group, presumably the one who called out, had an inquisitive expression—eyebrows up and pulled together—that fell into a smile. And I recognized her as soon as it happened. She was the woman laughing at the desk when we first arrived.
The second woman I recognized even faster, and my jaw dropped. It was the woman who took me to the District! A shit-eating grin spread across her face as our eyes locked.
I was frozen, trying to figure out any words, and none of them spoke. Suddenly, I was rushing down the stairs.
“You,” was all I could say. I pointed. “You?? You!!”
“Just as good with words, I see.” She straightened up, putting on a toyingly professional air.
“You are a Zega member, and I told you who I was, and you left me across the city?” I was stomping, my fists clenched. She could have helped me!
“I gave you plenty of money,” she shrugged.
“Laureth!” The other woman looked at her with a scolding tone, but the way she tensed made it look like she wanted to laugh as well.
Laureth rolled her eyes. “They never went through the recruiting process. I wanted to see if she could use her brain to do the bare minimum.”
“So all care for a scared person went out the window once she said she is a new girl?” I crossed my arms.
“I already explained my reason.”
“Well, it’s a—”
“Oh, for the sake of the Eight.” One of the qi’qop stepped forward, waving her hands. A mass of bangles jingled on her wrists. “Can we not have this discussion later? We have far more important things to discuss than a bad first impression.”
“It was a good one, until now,” I defended.
“Be that as it may, I am Miliya,” the first woman said, pointing an introductory finger at everyone. “You’ve met Laureth, and then there’s Ulnu and Zik.”
Ulnu, the bangled one, and Zik, much, much shorter than Ulnu, both nodded.
“It’s nice to meet you all.” Except you, I wanted to say to Laureth. “You all already know me so—”
At once, Ulnu and Miliya started walking away, Laureth and Zik hot on their heels. It took me half a second to realize I wasn’t being abandoned and was meant to follow. They walked with such purpose and mission that I had a hard time keeping up.
“Rorn gave us just the bare details, for you to tell us the rest,” Laureth said.
Zik’s big blue eyes narrowed at me in a chilling sideways glance. “He did say, however, that supposedly dymarul are involved?”
“That not just one, but two dymarul are involved?” Ulnu gave me a bigger sideways glance, emphasizing their skepticisms.
“Four, if I understand correctly,” I answered. “Why is that hard to believe?”
“Because the dymarul are dead,” she said.
“Or never existed,” Zik added. “Four? Absolutely not! The myths say they’re too rare.”
Pointedly shoving her hands in her pockets, Laureth tilted her head. “That would be an interesting explanation to you saying you were ‘thrown.’”
Miliya looked at Zik. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. They could be anyone if they do exist, that’s why they’re considered rare.” She looked at Ulnu. “And even if they are dead, that still doesn’t rule them out. They’re time travelers.”
“Then that would make them not dead,” I said.
“No, that would make them staples in time, and you’re the lucky lenexe they pinned to the wall.”
Wait, did she just say I was destined for this encounter? Like… Like destined destined?
“That can’t be it,” I shook my head. “Eagle said a future me pissed off Steele so he came back to ruin my life and the galaxy’s.”
“Wonderful!” Miliya threw her head back with a single laugh. “I can’t wait to find out how you do that.”
“Back to you giving us all the details,” Ulnu said. “From the beginning.”
And so I did, just like I had for Pilot and Rorn. As they lead me indoors and through endless hallways, I explained everything from falling in the stairs to being dropped off. I made it clear that I was going to continue being angry at Laureth, to which she rolled her eyes, and let out a finalizing sigh when my story was done.
Actually, I was just winded from having to walk so briskly and talk at the same time.
“Alryxe, let’s get one idea out of the way.” Miliya stopped us in the middle of a four-way corridor junction and looked around. A slow grin spread across her face. “I’ve always wanted to try calling out a dymarul.”
Zik scoffed, Ulnu impatiently shifted her weight, and Laureth laughed.
“You are not going to do that,” she said.
“Why not? All you need is a dymarul’s name, and now we have three.”
“What is calling out a dymarul?” I asked.
“According to legend, or mij, or whatever, if you know a dymarul’s name they’ll come when you say it.” Her grin widened. “And we now know three.”
“What are they, fairies?” My eyebrows lowered; my turn for skepticism. Zik made a guttural clicking sound, ears going flapping a few times before they went flat against his head. If my time working with Liqeor taught me anything, that meant he was annoyed.
“You know it’s not going to work, right?” Laureth’s smile mirrored Miliya’s, but she was clearly more amused that this is where the conversation was going.
Miliya simply shrugged. She assumed a pin straight posture and delicately lifted her hands, as if getting ready to cast a spell. And then she said their names, slowly, as if saying them too fast would spook their owners. Steele Eakre-Ta’ash… Arim… Eagle Faxon…
And then there was silence.
Zik looked at Ulnu, looked at Laureth. Ulnu looked at Laureth, looked at Zik. Laureth looked at me, looked at Ulnu. They all looked at Miliya.
“Are you happy?” Zik asked after a long moment.
Miliya snapped, lips pulling to the side before another grin. “I knew it wasn’t gonna work, but how nice would that have been? It would’ve made everything so much easier.”
“Enough fooling around.” Zik clasped his hands behind his back.
It was then that I noticed just how long his nails were. When I say qicuqop hands are clawed, they’re usually manicured, trimmed to a thick, rounded point maybe half an inch beyond their fingers. Eddie told me about it. It was a thing. Something about being polite. Something about getting along with humans. Zik’s, however, were very long. And so… so very sharp.
As subtly as I could, I leaned over to get a look at Ulnu’s hands. Hers were short. She noticed me looking and waggled her fingers, smirking as I quietly moved between Laureth and Miliya.
Miliya sighed, mirroring Zik’s posture. “I may be having fun but I’m not fooling around. Do you have any better idea on how to find them? They’re mysterious time travelers.”
Zik tilted his head but looked down, ears flapping again.
“Where were… or are we going?” I asked after a moment of silence, looking around the empty hallway intersection.
“Small office that way,” Miliya nodded toward the left hallway. I thought we’d start walking again, but no one moved.
“What if they’re lying?” Ulnu and Laureth asked at the same time, pointing at each other when they realized they shared the thought.
“What?” I turned my head, looking around the group. “How?”
Laureth shrugged. “They’re not dymarul at all. Space travel is much easier to play with than time travel.”
“You are jumping to that very fast,” I said. “Why would Eagle lie about that? Why would he make up some story about me making some ugly time traveler mad? Why would I be a target?”
“Definitely questions to add—”
“And the most important question: Why aren’t we focusing on finding Riche’e first? We need to find Riche’e.”
Ulnu grunted. “I forgot about the other human.”
“To be truthful, I don’t think we need to worry about him,” Miliya said.
Arms akimbo, I faced her. “And why is that?”
“Because there is most likely only two options. One, your attackers have him because he’s a target. Maybe he was right alongside you when you angered the dymarul in the future. That means we find him when we find them.” She shrugged. “The other possibility is that he’s off Eight-know-where or when in Sa’cra. Location alone, that’s over a hundred planets to search. It’d be better to wait for him to resurface on his own. If he has his paper-sleeve, it’s only a matter of time.”
That’s assuming he didn’t get hurt in the event. I highly doubt he was also blessed with any superpowers lately.
Shaking my head, I looked out a nearby window. She had a point, I had to give her that, but I didn’t want to accept it. I didn’t want to just leave it to him. I wanted to find him before… Shit.
“No, we can’t just wait. I got the impression that Eagle doesn’t like him very much and I’m—”
A sprout of movement caught my eye. A head poked out from behind a tree in the courtyard, and then a waving hand. It was Eagle. When he saw I saw him, he pointed at himself, then pointed at me. The hell did that mean? He did it again.
I elbowed Laureth, looking for a door. “That is him!” The whole group turned and I could see the same idea going through their heads as it went through mine.
I started running first, shoving out the door in hopes I could reach him before he decided to disappear. The rest overtook me. I don’t know why I thought I could maybe be the fastest here.
It didn’t matter. In a flash of light, he disappeared as they rounded the tree, reappearing at my side.
“Sorry, all, I just want to talk to this one!” He grabbed my arm and lifted him gloved hand.
“No, no, wait, we should—” I tried pulling away, but of course the next flash of light swallowed up both.
Closing my eyes, I just waited for the journey to end. I just found out time travel exists and I already hate it. He let go of my arm a moment later and the warm Mansheon air became a thrumming like I felt on the transport ship to the planet. Opening one eye, then the other, we were standing together in a cluttered… cargo hold?
“Listen— Okay, I’m sorry—”
“Make up your mind!” I shouted and leaned forward, shoving him backward. “Am I allowed to be involved or not?!” With all the strength I could muster, I punched his shoulder. “I am tired of being kidnapped!”
“I’m not kidnapping you, I’m helping.”
“It does not look like that!” I pointed—in what direction, I know not where. “From my friends’ sides, it looks like you stole me. You are doing a bad job of making me believe you are a good guy!”
“I am a good guy. Just calm down and let me explain.”
I cocked my fist. He quickly backed away, raising his hands defensively.
“Take me back,” I said. “Explain there.”
“No.”
“Take! me! back!”
“If they’re involved, they will die. Laureth has enough problems of her own.”
“Oh, what, did you already explore that timeline?”
“Yes, actually, I did. And I like Laureth and Miliya, so let’s not.”
Fucking time travelers. Am I a side character?
Growling, I grabbed one of his hands, pulled it to the side, and punched him again.
Shoving me back with the exact same growl, he stomped toward the door of the hold. He shouted through it at the top of his lungs. “Ma! I brought her here! We’re telling her everything!”
“You what?!” came a muffled response, followed a steady banging of running feet on hollow metal flooring.
“You’ll be easier to deal with if you know everything!” He slapped a button to the side of the door just as Ma arrived. She looked at him, looked at me, then glared at him.
“You are just like your father,” she started before they launched into an argument.
I, on the other hand, couldn’t fathom what I was looking at. Sure I was hallucinating, I stepped forward, trying to get a better look at the woman. I turned around, heading for a corner.
“No. Nope. Absolutely not.” Shaking my head, I leaned against the wall, looking at her again. I quickly looked away. Nope. I kept saying that. Nope. No. Nnnnnnope. “Please tell me I’m dreaming. Or drugged. Or sick.” This is not happening. This cannot be happening.
Red hair, green eyes, five-and-three-quarters feet. Ma… Ma???? Ma looked a lot like me.
Director Rorn’s office was mostly muted. It was a spacious rectangle full of gray, black, and matte metals lit by daylight let in through the floor to ceiling window-wall. But then there was the gigantic block of a machine sitting on his desk that looked inexplicably like a personal computer out of the 80s. And then there was the wall of nightmarish color that put that machine to shame. The colors popped and clashed in triangles and squiggles thrown haphazardly across the space.
As hard as I tried not to, it was all I could look at as I explained every single thing that just happened to me to both the director and Pilot. Rorn, a small and pudgy man with the scraggliest eyebrows I’d ever seen, sat in a chair across the desk from me and Pilot paced back and forth behind them. Neither of them even spared a glance at the horror on the wall.
Pilot told me I wasn’t missing just a night, I was missing for three days. And Riche’e had yet to reappear.
Rorn rested his chin on tented hands, staring gravely into the air as he listened to me, asking small questions here and there and nothing else.
“I cannot focus on training for Zega with this hanging over me,” I said after a few moments of silence where the men seemed to be stewing in everything I’d told them.
“And what could you possibly mean by that?” Pilot stopped pacing and turned to me, popping out against the violently red triangle behind him.
“I mean I have to help stop the four time travelers intent on messing up the galaxy.”
“I repeat my question.”
Rorn snorted, then smiled. “How could you, a rudkjurt that barely speaks Copan and doesn’t have any survival skills whatsoever, help stop dymarul?”
I took offense to that. I took great offense to the survival skills dismissal. I know how to run and running is the epitome of survival! “Because I am going to be part of this whether I want to be or not. Steele Eakre-Ta’ash came after me and Riche’e first.” And then Eagle implied he was going to search for Riche’e too, in a bad way.
Rorn looked to Pilot. “It may be a good opportunity to put Tawyn’s serum to further test. It seems to have been a success so far.”
“And there is that business too!” I stood and leaned on the desk with both hands, putting on my best serious and commanding face. Rorn raised an eyebrow. “Tawyn and Pilot were arguing about that back on Zi’inra. At least, that must have been what that was about.” I looked to Pilot.
“Have you had any injuries lately?” Pilot smiled in a way I couldn’t possibly decipher. Annoyance and-or amusement, maybe. “From your initial fall, perhaps?”
I straightened. “No, I wasn’t hurt at all.” I hadn’t seen for felt even a bruise.
Pilot turned to Rorn. “I know what you want, but what is your reasoning?”
“This is an unprecedented situation,” Rorn answered. “And most assuredly dangerous. If someone untrained and unprotected ran into this like she stupidly wants to—”
“Yo, I’m standing right here.”
“—then let’s see if it’ll actually keep her alive long enough for her determination to be useful.”
“What is Tawyn’s ‘serum?’” The image of the red-bandaged person back in the field tents came to my mind. And the fact everyone else seemed to have some sort of injury. I remembered the blood on my arm and my definitely broken ribs after I was thrown into the air after one of the explosions during the attack. My hand went to my side.
“Next time you see a knife, cut yourself with it,” Pilot said. “That’ll tell you.”
“Oh, for the sake of the Eight, stop being so dramatic, Pi.” Rorn waved a hand with a mighty roll of his eyes. “Turn off the showmanship.”
“What did Tawyn not want you to tell me, Pilot? Why did he want me to stay on Zi’inra?”
“Besides the fact your his daughter and we all just survived a traumatic event?”
“There was more to it.” My hand clenched. My bones should still be broken. “I didn’t start that war too, did I?”
“No, you did not,” Rorn answered. “The Cerras did. You’re just an unfortunate casualty. Or rather fortunate, I think. They took top secret information, and they took it out of context. Politically speaking, Zi’inra has always been a supporter of Creosian independence from Mother Cerra. They never became involved in the territory war, but they always spoke loudly about their opinion of it.”
“The Space Exploration Administration, on most days, is not a military organization or anything like it,” Pilot continued. “It’s in the name, we’re science. We exploration and research is who we are. But, condensing hundreds of loliel’s worth of history you would get in your training into a few words, Sa’cra came to trust us as a peacekeeping force when the situation calls for it.
“Our members frequently find themselves in dangerous situations and we had to come up with a solution for that. Zega went to your father to ask him to oversee the creation of a healing agent that would aid member survival and reduce healing times.” Then he waved a hand in my direction. “And the fact you’re standing there means he succeeded.”
Holy magic, Batman. I backed up a step, forcing myself to keep to the logical side of this conversation. “So you are saying the Cerras found out about that and jumped to the conclusion that you were siding against them?”
“Zega remains neutral and away from all small disputes until officially invited into the conversation, which never happened,” Rorn nodded. “Creos is our sister planet, they figured this only meant one thing. We were secretly giving support to Creos.”
“But why did they not attack Mansheon? Why did they go to Zi’inra?” Afterall, Mansheon and Creos are so close that their orbits periodically cause freak summers and winters against each other.
“That was their way of calling us out for our betrayal,” Pilot said. “They knew who we went to and they were stopping it at the source.”
“So they bombed Zennae.”
Rorn nodded. “They could’ve gone the quiet route with an assassination, but no, they had to bring civilians into this.”
“Or, you know, they could have not attacked at all!” I frowned.
“But they did,” Rorn shrugged, “and now we have this mess to clean up.”
I sat down, looking first out the window to the daylight, then to the patterned wall again.
“We’re thinking whatever Tawyn used on you is a little more effective than a healing agent.” Rorn pulled something out of a drawer, walked around the desk, and held it out to me. It was a small, ornate razor with a handle as colorful as the wall.
“What? No!” I leaned back as much as possible in the chair. I was not about to intentionally cut myself to confirm a suspicion!
“If you want to go on your little mission and for us to help you, you will do this.” He held it out again. “You will help us understand what Tawyn made for us.”
“Why do you not just ask him?”
“You’re here,” Pilot said, obviously closing a conversational door.
“If I don’t cut myself, you won’t go after the dymarul?”
“No, we will, but you will have no part in it.” Rorn leaned on the desk, still holding the razor. “You will be sent back to Zi’inra and no longer considered a Zega recruit.”
“Bit far, don’t you think?” Pilot casually stepped forward, speaking in a tone that suggested he was only mildly against Rorn’s ultimatum.
“Nope,” Rorn said. “The drive of any and all good members of Zega is curiosity, in all its forms, no matter the uncertainty. That’s why we needed the shu’serum in the first place. If she can’t even do this, what use is she to the program?”
That seemed irresponsible, and had to be an exaggeration. But still, I looked him in the eyes and breathed deep to build up my courage.
I grabbed the razor before I could talk myself back out and ripped it across the back of my hand.
“Sonofabitch!” Virtually throwing the blade away from me, I hugged the hand, making a fist and curling over it as tight as I could. It burned and stung and I could feel the blood beginning to seep into my shirt and pant leg.
Rorn leaned down. He pushed me back and took my hand, wiping the blood away with his, and stared at it. Pilot came around too, also staring at the cut I just gave myself. Helpless to do anything but wait, I looked at it too. Rorn wiped blood away a couple more times before pointing with a triumphant “Aha!”
And there, right before our eyes, the cut was healing. My jaw fell as it stitched together and we all stayed quiet over the minute it took to go away. If the blood wasn’t there, it would’ve looked like it never happened.
I reclaimed my hand and wiped and rubbed at it, unable to believe what I just saw, while the men turned to each other.
“It was faster that time,” Pilot said.
“It was just a cut, but if what you said was accurate…” Rorn trailed off, rubbing his chin.
My jaw remained in my lap as I kept wiping at my hand. “It’s gone! It healed! It’s gone!”
I looked around, looking for the razor. I had to see it happen again. I had to see it again!
Rorn and Pilot simply watched as I picked it up from our feet and dragged across my fist a few more times. Each cut healed faster than the last.
I survived my injuries on Zi’inra… because Tawyn made the greatest goddamn scientific breakthrough of all time, and he gave it to me. And it didn’t just work once, it worked again and again and again.
I mean, yes, the fact that this Steele Eakre-Ta’ash just showed up out of nowhere and literally threw me on the ground does lend itself to the idea that I’m involved in whatever he’s doing, but the middle of it? And how? How could I possibly have drawn this person’s attention?
“I have to be really careful about what I say.” Eagle was still biting his lips. “I may be breaking every rule but I have some sense.”
“Absolutely not,” I said. “If you want to help, you are going to explain everything and you are going to explain it clearly. How and why am I involved?”
“It’s something…you do…in the future…” His face as uncertain as his words, he was fighting every one that came out.
I’m—I—I—I’m—
For some reason, I started laughing.
“So you are trying to tell me,” I managed to pull myself together, just enough to speak, “that not only am I involved in an alien kidnapping conspiracy and that my father might have sparked a galactic war, but also that I caused a time war? Really?” The most significant thing I’ve done in this godforsaken galaxy is break a window! Another fit of laughter followed. “What, does that make you Kyle Reese?”
He leaned back and shrugged. “Come with me if you want to live.”
The laughter died. He knew that reference? “Who the hell are you?”
“An idiot,” a woman growled, grabbing Eagle’s shoulder. When I looked up, she quickly turned away, but held fast to him. She was hooded too, but this time it was a proper hide-your-identity-by-having-a-blanket-on-your-head hood. She started pulling.
He resisted, but not much. “Ma, wait—”
So I guess the mom showed up. She pulled him up and away and an argument ensued—well, she started yelling at him while trying to stunt her sentences so I wouldn’t understand. And it was exactly about what Eagle said it would be: him talking to me. But I jumped up and grabbed his arm.
“No, no!” I used my weight, hugging it. I didn’t care if anyone was looking. I was holding on tight and my legs were going to drag. “I am not done with him!”
The woman stopped, carefully turning toward Eagle. Eagle looked back and forth between us.
“I need a djerabyz,” he muttered.
“There were two people,” the woman quietly hissed. “Two people I told you to keep out of this.”
“He targeted—” Eagle shook the arm I was holding. I used him to pull myself up, then let go, staying close in case mom decided to start dragging him away by the ear.
“Who are you, now?” I looked at her, trying to get a peek under the hood. “I already know what’s going on. I need to know the rest.”
“You don’t know anything,” she said. “And it should stay that way.”
How does someone go about arguing in this situation? Eagle wanted to talk, the mom didn’t want him to talk. She wanted me to know nothing, even though I’m one of Steele’s targets.
“So what is supposed to happen then?” I crossed my arms. “You abandon me here and go do…whatever it is you are doing?”
There was a pause, then the hood bobbed with her nod. “Yes. Trust me, it’s what you want.”
“Yes, because I am going to trust a hooded stranger trying to keep me in the dark about things I should know.”
“What you should be doing is studying in the Administration.”
“I want to be, but I cannot pretend I’m not right here with two weird-ones.” I pointed at her to make my point, even though she probably couldn’t see it. “I want to know what’s going on.”
“No.”
I stomped my foot.
“Nice argument,” Eagle grinned.
I went quiet, weighing my options. I didn’t have many, and something told me that we would just go in cryptic circles if I tried to keep arguing. “Fine, mom, you win.” I turned to Eagle, poking his jacket. “Take me home. If you cannot tell me anything, the least you can do is take me back to Zega. I don’t want to stay here any longer.”
He nodded. “I can do that.”
“No detours,” the woman said, turning to walk away. “I mean it.”
“Who are you,” I asked before she took her first step. “I assume I’m going to meet you two for real in the future. I want to know who to look for.”
“You’ll figure it out without my help. Just think about it.”
Eagle slipped the glove back onto his hand, taking his time to make sure every finger cap and wire was properly in place, and made a fist. Pinkish white light swallowed us, then gave way to a cloudy blue bubble. I tensed waiting for the dizzying fall I experienced the day before, but it never came. My feet stayed firmly planted on ground. Probably not ground, but I wasn’t going anywhere. I also didn’t risk it by moving. I stood frozen while Eagle made a few simple hand gestures in the air and flicked wispy images of Mansheon around us. It looked like ghosts of locations and people and he was sifting through them like any of it made sense.
Eventually, a door appeared and he opened his hand. The door went from a wisp to a solid object beside us, the world materializing from it. We stood in front of a building that went as far as I could see whether I looked left or I looked right.
“This is the actual headquarters,” I said, eyes widening.
“Everything should go better from here,” he said. “Don’t worry. We’ll keep—”
“I have more questions,” I stopped him, grabbing his arm again. “Tell me everything!”
“What? I can’t!”
“She’s not here!” I gestured to the wide, park-like square around us. And as I did, I got distracted. Seating aplenty seemed to be a staple on Mansheon. The square was actually a cross-cross of spiral paths radiating out from a towering statue of a human and a qicuqop holding a planet. This planet, I assumed. Beyond it, one on side, there was a hedge wall with an opening to more hedges, and the other side led to the rest of Kellan.
“But she’s right, you really shouldn’t know what’s going on yet,” he responded. “If we succeed, you’ll never have to know.”
“But why? What does that mean?”
“It means hopefully you’ll get to conquer Zega the way you’re supposed to and you won’t have to worry about anything else.”
“Now you’re messing with me.”
He shrugged.
“You and your mother are infuriating.”
He grinned.
“How does that glove work?”
He looked at his hand. “I have no idea. I don’t think the dymarul know either. I mostly think it, and it happens. It doesn’t make sense.”
“Story of my life.” Just add it to the pile. “Why did you come to my window?”
“Because we knew Steele was targeting you. I didn’t want to just leave you alone.”
“Thank you,” I smiled. “I didn’t want to wait for rescue, or walk across Kellan.”
He only nodded.
“Why am I one of the ones your mother said not to talk to?”
“Because she doesn’t want me changing history.” He shook his head, arms going akimbo. “But history’s changed already. Steele made sure of that, and our presence doesn’t help whether I help you or not. And there’s something else I wanted to do.”
“What’s that?”
He looked to the Zega building, then looked around. “Are you close to Riche’e yet?”
I perked up. “More friends of convenience, I would say. Will you help me find him? Steele went after him too!”
“Yes, he did. And no, I won’t.”
“What? Eagle, we—!”
A sudden look of angry resolve hardened his face. He fiddled with the glove. “To tell you the truth, I am changing history. You’ll never know the difference, but it will be better.”
“What does that mean?”
He disappeared, I reflexively reached out. My hand grabbed uselessly at empty air as a flash of light left me alone.
The area was instantly full of people, and I wondered if we were in a time bubble until he disappeared. No one spared me a glance, save for the people that bumped into and walked around me.
What the hell did that mean? What could that possibly mean?
I spun around and looked up at the Zega building. Eagle must’ve known where Riche’e was and he did not have good intentions. That’s what that meant. He was going to find wherever Steele threw Riche’e and do something.
I rushed forward, pushing through the wide glass doors.
“I need to find Instructor Pilot,” I shouted. “Or Director Rorn!”
The innkeeper (is that what it’s called here?) was a kjanxe who was more interested in a video screen than interacting with me. It looked like she was watching a race. And judging by the tiny paper she clutched in her hand, I assumed it was a race she had a bet on.
I leaned on the counter separating us, trying to look like I wasn’t using it to hold me up, and slid all the money the woman handed me to her. “I need a room. Just tonight.”
She looked at the money, looked at me, then grabbed it all, pressed a button on the far side of her desk, and pointed to a door across the lobby. “Time’s up at four-daylight.” She slapped her video screen and cursed as a race car spun out.
“What is that in galactic?”
I never really understood the different forms of time keeping, even though everyone I ever asked told me how simple the system was. There was the thirty jul galactic day, time which every planet kept, then there was the daylight-nightlight schedule unique to every planet that corresponded with sunrise and sunset. I guess I understood it in theory, I just could never reconcile the numbers. Even though I spent my entire life on Zi’inra.
“It’s—” Her ears twitched as she looked at a clock and counted on her fingers. Unlike the last kjanxe I saw, her ears were long and straight. Kind of like an elf. “Twenty-two galactic.”
I regretted asking her that in the first place. Cringing preemptively, I leaned toward her. Even if I knew how to convert the times, my day had been royally screwed over by my attackers. “How many juls is that from now?”
She went straight and the pupils in her gold-green eyes became slits as turned them on me. “Are you a kuma?” Her voice was decidedly more catlike and growly than it was a moment ago.
I backed away and pointed to my door. “Four-daylight, thank you.” I’ll just sleep and probably not wake up until she was angrily pounding on the door to leave. I could live with that.
Also, yes I am a kuma.
But when I entered my room, the last thing I wanted to do was sleep. The window was wide open for me to see the cacophony of the District outside. I fell into a chair right next to it and just looked out.
It was like a city in an old sci-fi movie. Dark and bright at the same time, crowded, dirty, loud, lively. It looked like the very definition of a city that never slept. And that made me wonder just what kind of things I could find out there. Was that kjanxe’s race taking place down here? Were there games? Shows? Food? Shopping? Lewd entertainment? Fortune tellers? A theme park? I was sure it was all of the above as I watched a series of hot pink glyphs dance in all different directions on the roof of the giant cavern.
Eventually, though, it couldn’t distract me from my problems at hand. Would I be able to get to the other side of Kellan in full gravity on my own? I knew we were close to it already in our conditioning, but alone?
And what did those men do with Riche’e?
What exactly did they do? They threw me through time and space? Was I really on Zi’inra for that minute? How could they do that? How were they able to do that?
And why? Why the hell would they do that to me? To us?
Was Riche’e okay?
The more I thought about it, the more anxious I became. Those men came out of nowhere, and I was starting to think that was truly literal. That man really did come from thin air and toss us into oblivion.
I looked at the street, at the people walking by, then looked around my room, half-worried I’d see one of the men in any spot. I never got a good look at the first one, beyond the fact he was tall. The second one, though, he was burly. He had thick eyebrows, beady gray eyes, and a square head. And I never wanted to see him again.
Was there a phone in this room? Or, phone-like device, rather?
There was something standing at an angle on a table near the bed that was obviously the exact thing I wanted. It was a clear screen connected to a cylinder base stand, an intricate circle design spinning idly in the center. Moving to the bed, I tapped the screen, and searched the symbols that popped up. If there was double-circles anywhere, I knew I would be able to press it and—aha!
I tapped the double-circles in the bottom left corner and prayed the next step would be just as easy.
Taking a deep breath, I watched the circles spin independently of each other and said in a clear voice: “Call Zega Headquarters.”
The screen dinged and the circles spun faster.
“Welcome to the Space Exploration Administration,” a man said in a telltale secretary voice. “How can I help you at this jul?” He smiled at the screen and I was taken aback. I hoped I would get anyone, but I wasn’t expecting an actual phone operator.
“I’m… I am looking for Pilot.”
This felt so stupid. There had to be a better way to do this, I just couldn’t think of anything.
“Instructor Pilot is unavailable at the Administration Headquarters at this jul. May I ask who is calling to convey a message when he becomes available?” The man’s eyes and smile were glossy and unchanging, and I realized this had to be a robot or AI. It was a business answering machine.
“Give this to any instructor that becomes available,” I said, hoping that was even possible. “My name is Jiaal Foxise and they may have noticed I disappeared from the building with the other new recruits… I am in something called the District. I don’t know the name of the hotel I am at, but I am sure you can trace this call back? I just want to let them know I am here. And if they can pick me up. Any Zega member that can help me...”
‘Mom, can you come get me from the mall now; I wanna go home.’
“I will convey your message to Director Rorn,” the man-machine said. “Goodnight.”
Director—? That was an important person who would definitely not be happy to hear that message. Hopefully the fact I was kidnapped for the second time in my life, and kidnapped by evil time travelers would help. I don’t know how it would help, but I hoped it would help.
The screen faded clear into that intricate spinning design again and I laid back. There was nothing I could do but wait now. I rolled toward the comm device and tapped until I had the double-circles listening to me again.
“How long until four-daylight?”
“Seven juls,” a pleasant voice chimed.
“Set an alarm for three-daylight, please.”
“Alarm set for three-daylight.”
I thought I should slide the shutters closed for privacy sake as I tried to go to sleep, but then I opened my eyes hearing that pleasant voice speaking to me.
“It is now three-daylight,” it said over and over again.
That was easy, I groggily thought, feeling like I was glued to the bed. Okay, so I wasn’t magically attuned to the gravity in the six juls I slept like I half hoped I would be. Why was this never a problem in tv shows?
The voice kept repeating the alarm and I looked out the window. It looked like daylight meant nothing down here. What was I expecting? It’s an underground city.
I slapped at the screen to shut up the alarm. It didn’t work until about the fifth slap.
Looking to the lit up display, I forgot for a moment that I wouldn’t see regular numbers I could understand flashing on the screen and groaned. Whenever I looked at numbers, my eyes glazed over faster than when I looked at letters. They were mostly circles and dots and my head hurt trying to keep them straight. I could understand single digit numbers. One was one dot, two was two vertically, three was a triangle of dots, four was a diamond of them, five was like two with a half-circle connecting them. I knew them individually up to ten. But when they’re written together, I couldn’t tell what was a dot, triangle, or diamond and I stopped trying to separate them before my eyes hurt.
Much was the same this morning. I closed my eyes and sighed. It’s three-daylight. I had one jul to figure out if I should hang around the hotel, call Zega again, or head off on my own.
There was a tap on the window and I jolted upright. Fighting through a back-and-forth wave of heaviness that told my head to lay right back down, I looked and saw a person. Because of course I fucking did, I never closed the curtain.
I stared. They tapped again and tried to wave me toward them. I threw a pillow. It didn’t even reach the chair, let alone the glass.
The person was hooded but it didn’t cover their face. No, the mask on the bottom half of it did. Their bright eyes rolled when the pillow flopped harmlessly on the floor. They tapped again and the way their head moved suggested they may have said something, but I didn’t hear it.
Instead of going toward the window, I rolled across the bed and left the room.
“Oh, by the Eight! She does know time!” The innkeeper sat up at the front desk and clasped her hands, looking sarcastically joyful.
“It was a rough night,” I said. She didn’t need to be mean about it.
I shuffled to the front doors and looked out a window, hoping to see the person from that angle. And I could. They stood some feet away from the building, idly turning in a circle.
They couldn’t be from Zega, could they? No, right? They wouldn’t be dressed all ominously in black with their face covered and knock on a freaking window to get my attention. Right? I mean, who knows how sci-fi organizations like this work in real life.
Still. No. I did not want to go out there by myself and risk it, whoever that person was. They had to be extra shady since they weren’t even trying to come in and talk to me.
I looked at the kjanxe. “There is another way to leave, yes?”
Her scruffy eyebrows knit together as she pointed at a hallway directly behind her. “End of there. What’s wrong?”
“Well, I don’t know, truly,” I looked out to the person again. They were still just standing there.
“Do you need someone run off?” She stood. “I love chasing people away.” She held up her hand like a claw, and I finally noticed just how sharp her nails were. Well, obviously. She’s a cat. Kitties have claws.
“I just want to know who they are,” I shook my head. “I really don’t need another person messing with my life right now.” What if they were with the time travelers? What if it was the one I didn’t see? I started toward the back hall. “No, I think I will just avoid them. I will go behind and hopefully they won’t see me.”
She watched me for a moment then went to the front window to look at my friend. Her hand was on the door handle when I turned and went out the back. I hope she wasn’t going to chase them off because my escape kind of relied on them staying right there until I was far enough away.
The back alley of the building was right up against the wall of the cavern. There was barely even a walkway laid out in the rocks, and I used the dripstones to help keep me steady as I went along. The next two buildings were much smaller than the hotel, but I decided to risk it after the second one and went toward the road. It looked like there was some park, or major foot traffic center not too far away. I could figure out the next step from there. It must be easier to stay away from the person there. It always works in the movies. Hide in plain sight.
Hugging the wall, I peeked around the corner to look for them, and found them backed against the front of the hotel with the kjanxe angrily poking at their chest. Their hands were raised, seemingly trying to placate her. I smiled. She was trying to distract them so they wouldn’t look for me.
Taking a deep breath, I looked across the road and gauged the distance, figuring out just how much strength I would have to muster before I let gravity get the better of me.
Before I let my nerves stop me from doing anything, I shook them out and started fast-walking.
“No, wait!”
I just managed to make it before I heard that shout. Looking back, the person was pointing, stepping around the kjanxe.
Crap! So much for her distraction. She latched on to them, though. I started hustling. Screw the park, I’d settle for anything that looked like a store. Or a restaurant. The road was getting busier and busier so that gave me hope.
This tiny place looked good; I reached for a door.
A loud zip ripped through the air and a person stepped into existence beside me in a flash of pinkish light. When I looked up, it was the masked person, eyebrows lowered. They are a—!
“Jiaal, stop. I—” It was a man.
“No!”
I turned around and ran. I just wanted to get away from him. But he didn’t let me. I barely took a step before he latched onto my arm.
“Ma— Jiaal, I want to help you.”
I hit his hand with a fist and, surprisingly, he let go. But he held it near, definitely ready to jump if I tried to run again. So I held up my fists, trying to look not as weak as I was, and backed up a step.
“Then why do you look like a bad guy?”
He pushed his hood back and pulled down the fabric masking his face. I half hoped I would recognize him but nope. He had brown hair, green eyes, and a chiseled jaw not unlike Riche’e’s but I didn’t know who he was.
“Why I’m here is complicated and I apologize.” He looked at his jacket, which was torn in multiple places. “And I need a new coat thanks to that zikuba.”
I couldn’t help my grin at the fact the kjanxe actually ripped his clothes. “That is what you get for being a creep outside windows.”
“Would you have preferred I entered your room? I know I am a stranger to you.”
“You could have waited for me in the main room.”
“Alryxe, that’s a good point,” he nodded with a sigh. “Look, I’m not supposed to be here and I don’t know how I should go about this. The people I break rules with usually know what’s—”
“Who are you? Why were you at my window?” I held my fists higher. “Are you one of the time travelers?”
“Let’s go somewhere and talk.” He pointed to the park. The brightly lit, bustling park.
I narrowed my eyes. “You go first.”
He huffed. “Jiaal—”
“No. If you want to go anywhere with me, I am following you. To a bench.”
He started walking, but kept looking back to make sure I actually was following him. I was. I wanted to see what he actually had to say for himself. But I also knew that he teleported to me just a minute before, so running was probably pointless at that moment.
And he did just what he was supposed to. He led me to a bench facing a small circular patch of grass surrounding a fountain that spit water in a rainbow of colors. He sat down and looked up at me, raising his eyebrows with more indignance than he had any right to have. He gestured to the spot next to him. I sat as far from him on the bench as I could.
“Who are you?” I was going to lead this conversation.
“Eagol Faxon.” He folded his hands, seeming to get the point. One of them, I noticed, sported a wired glove-like thing. I wondered if that was how he could do it.
“Eagle? Like the bird?”
“No—” He stopped, thought, then nodded. “Yes, actually, let’s go with that. Like the bird.”
“How do you know what bird I’m talking about?”
“That’s not important.”
I raised my fists again, and he laughed.
“I say yes because it sounds like my name,” he said. “So call me Eagle.”
“Okay, Eagle, who exactly are you?” I pointed at his hand. “And what is that?”
He held it up. “This is—” He bit his lip and looked around. He looked like he was waiting for someone to pop out for him at any second. He lowered his voice. “This is called a dymarul glove and it’s how I’m able to be here with you right now.”
“Why are you looking around like that?”
“Because the person I stole it from might show up. Or my mother, and she will be very angry I’m talking to you.” He pulled his hood back up and turned on the bench, facing me more fully but clearly trying to hide from the greater crowd of the park. He peeled off the glove and carefully tucked it into an inner pocket in the breast of his jacket.
“I don’t know which part to ask about first.” I leaned forward after a pause. “Did you steal it from a man? Mean face? Square head? Caterpillar eyebrows?”
He snorted a quick laugh but swallowed it, his face falling. “No, but he is why I stole it and I know he’s come after you already. His name is Steele Eakre-Ta’ash, his companion is named Arim.”
My heartbeat picked up its pace, even faster than it had from the energy I’d already spent. “Who is he?”
“He’s a dymarul deathbent on screwing up the galaxy just to spite—” He stopped, chomping down on his lips.
“Don’t you dare stop there!”
“He’s trying to ruin lives just because he can, and you’re right in the middle of his plans.”
The next several days were as grueling as they were long. Getting out of bed for the first few mornings felt like a test and a mission in itself. Pilot, apparently, wasn't playing around when he brought up the stairwells, because we were made to walk them every day. And that was just the easy part of the physical conditioning. When I was certain a week had passed, Riche'e told me it had only been four days.
It was never ending. Up and down stairs. Rest. Walking, running on treadmills, breathing, passing out, standing, bending, rest, squatting, standing, sitting, walking, rest, up and down stairs. Every time the gravity was increased, the drama of it would start all over again. Every time the gravity increased, there was a wave of recruits becoming nauseous and-slash-or passing out, fewer and fewer with each increase as our bodies got used to the changes.
I'm proud to stay I never threw up and I only blacked out three times.
On day, I don't know, six, maybe?, I sat down in the middle of a flight of stairs, fearing I'd pass out and fall backwards before I could make to one of the benches they had on the landings between levels. And it might have been the direct middle. There were steps above, steps below, I was nowhere near a banister, and people were going around me. That was, until I was literally pushed to the side by Micje's boot and what was quickly becoming our official group sat around me. Micje sat next to me, Panda and Kama sat a couple steps above us, and Riche'e leaned on the railing at he faced us.
"Go on without me," I said, waving my arms and leaning back. I meant to lean against the steps and a banister, but ended up in Panda's lap. "I am dead for now, but I will catch up, I promise." She gave me a sympathetic fake pout and pat my head.
"Zurytarydi," Riche'e said. I only nodded, pretending I understood what he said. He was practically laying on the rail, head propped up heavily in his hand.
"Join us," I said, patting a step below me with the heel of my foot. Well, I more bobbed my leg than actually moved my foot, but he got the point and quickly shook his head.
"Right now, I feel like if I sat down, I'd be there until morning."
"I am not alone!" I shouted in relief. I'm glad to know I wasn't the only one of us that felt like there were dying.
"I'm with you two," Panda added. "These are the most comfortable stairs I've ever been on."
"There's only one more floor," Kama and Micje said in unison.
"It goes forever and you know it," I shot back.
Kama nodded.
And after looking up to the steps above us with an almost wistful look, Micje nodded too.
"If we can't make it three floors, we're never going to make it in Zega," he said.
And that was the worst part. The building wasn't that big. It went up three stories from the ground.
"Once we get use to this gravity, I'm making these stairs my lenexe." Panda looked like she'd never taken a sentence so seriously. Truly, the concept of climbing stairs had never been such a dramatic thought. Not to me, and probably not to anyone there.
"Screw gravity, we've been doing this for days." Micje tapped into another pocket of his seemingly reserves of energy and stood up. "Come on!" He playfully slapped Kama's shoulder as he started climbing again, and she sprung up to follow. She lightly tugged Panda's ponytail.
"Why can't we just relax?" Panda pulled herself out from under me and followed, leaving me lain on the hard stone steps. "Pilot told us to relax when we wanted! That qi'qop too!"
"We'll relax at the top!" Micje's voice echoed as they went.
My urge to do the right thing and follow was overridden by my desire to...not do that. Barring another Cerran attack, the final bit of the stairs wasn't going anywhere. Riche'e didn't follow either.
Speaking of that qi'qop— I sat up. "You and me should find Eddie. I want you to talk to him."
"Who? Oh, Uppau?" His eyebrows furrowed. "Why?"
"Because I just realized he's proof about Earth."
Riche'e's shoulders slumped. "Jiaal—"
"Rishie, no, listen!" I sat up more. "He will tell you everything! He knows everything about the Orphanage!"
He only made a frustrated sound, a grunt.
"We are already in Zega," I said. "It's not like this will put your place in it in danger. Please just hear him?"
"Why do you think he'll say anything you want him to?"
"Because he's my friend and he knows the truth about Earth, and you heard him. He quit. Will you listen to him?" If he didn't believe me, maybe Eddie's words will change his mind. He did want to know where rudkjurt came from, didn't he?
"Jiaal, the Orphanage—" He stopped and rubbed his eyes. But then he nodded. "Yeah, arlyxe. That would actually be interesting."
And that's where my next wave of energy came from. I leapt up and grabbed his hand, running down the stairs instead of up. I didn't know if Eddie was even in the building, but the fact I'd seen him more than once in passing had me hopeful he'd be there.
"This is perfect." I grinned, holding his hand tight lest he changed his mind. "We'll prove to you Earth exists and then you'll help me get home!"
"One thing at a time," he said. "I'll listen to him first, and then we'll figure out what's wrong with you."
"Hah hah. What's wrong with me is no one will listen. But Eddie's the perfect person! This is exactly why I am in Zega!"
More rudkjurt would be even better. When I was abducted, there were four other kids caged with me. If only we'd all gone to the same family. But Eddie had no reason to be loyal to the Orphanage anymore! He could tell Riche'e anything he wanted to know.
"You two are simply adorable." A hurried voice appeared beside us as a stranger seemed to come from nowhere. He put himself in front of us, grabbed our hands, then threw himself down the stairs, taking us with him.
I didn't understand what was happening next, but I screamed and fell through air. Instead of hitting the steps, I felt simultaneously weightless and heavy as the world spun and I just kept falling.
I saw a flurry of colors—blue, red, black, white, blue.
My back hit the ground first and all the air left my body. Gasping desperately, I looked around and tried to roll over, tried to stand. I was outside. I wasn't in the stairwell. I was alone. Riche'e wasn't next to me and neither was the stranger. I was laying in dirty grass. I was light. I was looking up at a twilit sky and rubble. I was looking at—
I was on Zi'inra. I was in the park. I wasn't just looking at rubble, I was looking at the ruins of the Zega tower and businesses and homes destroyed on the main road of Greater Zennae.
My head still spun and felt like my brain was trying to escape through my eyes. My chest hurt as I still gasped and tried to catch any ounce of breath I could.
"I just said outside!" Someone shouted nearby.
"I did! Isn't this more interesting?" Someone else said, the original stranger.
I rolled over to try and get a look at them, and saw the new stranger was already coming for me. Yet another man. His face was twisted, he looked livid as he reached for me. I tried kicking away, at him or the ground so I could get some distance, but he grabbed me and picked me up faster than my legs could move.
He held me up by my arms and the world spun again. He was grounding, though. As the world went around in bubbles and colors he smirked at me. Full on smirk. That was an evil smirk. With a heavy brow and narrowed eyes, he looked like he was having fun now. Way more fun than I was having.
Then I was heavy again and the vibrant, rushing colors gave way to the greens and browns of another city. I sagged in his grip. He said something I didn't hear and he dropped me.
I collapsed on a road of cobblestone and felt like someone was stepping on my chest.
He was gone.
Instead of gasping for air, I lay there hyperventilating and staring into the stone as the world became quiet around me. Eventually, I was able to become quiet too. My head stopped spinning. I could barely breathe, but no one but my own bodyweight was attacking me anymore.
I looked up, looked around, and hoped I was still on Mansheon. It was dark, the night sky glowing orange from a thick layer of clouds above the city. There wasn't a soul in sight. It was just dark streets and dark building spotlit by yellow street lights and building signs.
Where was Riche'e? Where did they drop me, and where did they drop him?
I looked around some more, praying anyone friendly would show up. There was no one. Were the cities on Mansheon really this quiet at night?
Was I really on Zi'inra just a minute ago?
That didn't matter. I needed to get back to the buffer building, and I had no idea where that was, much less where I was. I looked at the signs around me and cursed, yet again, the fact I never learned to read.
I chose a building, the nearest door, and decided that's where I needed to go. Putting all my strength into picking myself up, I never took my eyes off that door. Someone must be in there.
Dragging myself there was easier than the first time I was made to walk in Mansheon's full gravity, which had me wondering if I was even on Mansheon. I had to tell myself again that that dind't actually matter. I needed to get somewhere safe, then I could figure out what the hell just happened to me.
"Is anyone here?" I shouted, banging on the door with all my strength. It had a doorknob and was locked. "I need help!" Would anyone even come to the aid of a random person in the middle of the night here? I banged on the door some more, shouting again. When I realized no one was coming, I looked to the next building. I didn't wait until I made it to that door before I started shouting for help again.
Someone touched my shoulder. I screamed and fell, unable to hold myself up any longer. They caught me, just barely able to keep me from hitting the ground.
"What's going on?" It was a woman, a look of concern written clearly in her eyes, even in the dark.
"I need to get to the space dock," I said. "That first building."
"What?" Her eyebrows furrowed. "Which one?"
"The... the... first one?" I don't know!
"Did you come with Zega?"
I nodded. "I need to get back there." Some Zega recruit I looked like.
"That's on the other side of Kellan," she said. Oh my god. That meant somewhere between the length of New York City and Long Island and I didn't know which comparison was closer. But at least that meant I really was on Mansheon. And in the same city.
"Then is there anywhere I can stay until morning?" I felt like I was asking to be in a bad movie. And she looked like she was mulling over the same concept as she looked me up and down.
"I can take you to the District. There's some cheap places to room there."
That sounded like a place I didn't want to be, but I couldn't exactly argue at that moment, could I? "Thank you." I hated the next question. "Can I borrow money for that?"
She scoffed, and started pulling me to a wheeled, open-topped vehicle. "There's no way you're with Zega."
"I promise I am, I just..." I settled in the seat she pushed me into, welcoming the plushness cushioning the feel of the crushing gravity. "I do not know what happened. I wish I could explain. I was thrown here." Maybe that should be the title of my autobiography. I Was Thrown Here by Jiaal Foxise-formerly-Savanna-Morgan. Because I felt like I'd done nothing but get thrown around since I came to Sa'cra.
"Quite some event if you were thrown across the city." The vehicle revved to noisy life before she really even settle in her own seat. It sounded like an old truck coming to the end of its long, long life. It rolled like one too, creaking so much I wondered if I should've just made a temporary home of the street where I fell.
"I promise I will tell you if I ever figure it out."
"You expect to meet again?"
"I have to pay you back somehow. I am going to be on Mansheon for a while."
"If you're a Zega recruit screaming for help, you're either going to make it really far or wash out before training begins."
"I—you do not— ...That's fair." I mean, that's been the going assumption about me already, right?
The path she was taking us on suddenly went downhill, underground. What exactly is the District? The dark of the night gave way to more and more streetlights, then neon lights, and the tunnel opened up and had us driving on a road above...a cavernous city in itself. It was so bright, it might as well have been daytime already.
"I'm taking you to the cheapest juder I know."
"This is the District?" I was looking this way and that, unable to focus on any one thing as there was so much to look at. Neon signs, endless colors, projections, holograms, streets going around buildings, buildings that connected the roof and floor of the cave, buildings that were stalactites, flying cars and bikes buzzing in the air, and sounds... It was like highways and arcades and crowds all combined into one.
"Yeah, all first timers have that dumb look when they find out." I could hear the grin in her voice over everything else.
The road spiraled around one of the pillar buildings and set us in seemingly the only dark corner of the District. She handed me a few pieces of plastic. Wait, is this what physical money looked like here? It was shiny, iridescent, but weighed hardly a thing in my hand. Were these like quarters or dollars?
"That should be just enough for a night." She pointed to the (space) motel we were parked in front of. "Or do whatever you want. You'll be entertained for days down here." Looking back out to the brightly lit city, I believed it.
She gestured for me to get out.
"Wait, two things, quickly." I grabbed her hand. "Have you seen anyone else out of place like me? A man?"
"There's another one like you?" She shook her head. "Zega standards must be going down."
So that was a no. Where did Riche'e go?
"What's your name? So I can find you later?"
"Don't worry about it. Just get your jegyz back to Zega."
Early the next morning, I found myself curled up on a couch in a lounge, staring dead-eyed at a television on a wall across the room. I could hear it, but it was just too far and the volume was just low enough that I couldn’t make out any words. But it looked like a newscast. For five minutes, it showed images of the destruction in Zennae and space shots of what I assumed was one of the Cerras. I couldn’t remember which one it could be. All I remembered from my research after Riche’e’s party was that the planets were both a dull green, and the image on screen was a dull green.
Then it showed an anchorlady. Then it moved on to a cityscape. That one I did for sure recognize. It was Plott, the tiny planetoid and giant city that used to be an just asteroid. They were showing destruction there too. Not as wide spread; it looked like a single building was bombed. A qicuqop was talking. Then it showed an image like a mugshot, some young, dark haired man. Well, good. They caught the guy.
“I am not looking forward to leaving this building.” Panda slid over the couch and sat down, startling me out of my daze.
“You are alive!” I sat up. She had several cuts across her face, the appearances of which it looked like she was trying to downplay by the way she brushed her hair to the side.
She just nodded, looking out the closest window. “Bronud’s only a little bigger than Zi’inra.”
“Thank good for this place.” I waved my finger in the air, indicating the building.
“Well, yeah, we would have died, otherwise.” She sighed. “I can’t believe I never thought about the gravity. I would’ve prepared myself.”
“What’s the biggest planet you’ve ever been on?”
“Rynka. I think. That or Creos. Neither of them are like here either.”
“How many planets have you been to?”
“Nine, plus Sacon 4.”
“You have been to ten worlds?”
“Why else would I want to join Zega? I like exploring, and we will be doing a lot of it someday.” She looked offended, like I should’ve known that about her already. “It’s my teajvij to visit all fifty-two planets, and then some. I’m going to go into colonization.” She looked around, then leaned in conspiratorially, lowering her voice. “Or the secret division.”
Of course there’s a secret division. “What’s that?” I lowered mine too.
“Sa’cra’s big, but Tabula’s bigger.”
“...Tabula?” I may have never heard the name before, but since she used Sa’cra, I could only assume it was another galaxy. Wait, she wants to go to another galaxy? We can do that?! Am I actually in the Milky Way?! No, I must be.
“Yeah,” she grinned, clearly not realizing I was actually asking for clarification on what it was. “It’s the ultimate frontier, and the secret division is supposed to be working on getting there.”
“Why is it ‘secret’?”
She paused, then leaned back. “I don’t know. That’s just what it’s called. It’s supposed to be only the best of Zega, though.”
I laughed. “Good luck, then.”
The lounge was filling up. I could feel the atmosphere slowly changing from that not-quite-awake morning idleness to an air of quiet eagerness and anticipation. I was starting to tense feeling it too. I wanted to know how our official planet conditioning was going to start. And since we weren’t told a time or place to go, I think we were all just gathering there and hoping for the best.
That was the reason, or it was just because it was sort of the only communal space inside the building.
Micje plopped down on a chair across from us, looking like a concentrated ball of energy. Riche’e trailed, sitting slowly in a chair next to his, looking like was savoring getting to do that. He leaned gratefully back and gingerly rested his hurt arm on the rest while Micje leaned on his knees and bounced his legs.
“You look like you’ve had a morning,” Panda said, eyes going back and forth between them.
“He convinced me to run with him.” Riche’e closed his eyes. “I let him convince me. Tooks us juls.”
“It’s your fault,” Micje grinned at him. “You’re slow.”
“My arm hurts.”
“That’s not your legs.”
“Doesn’t mean it’s not distracting!”
I tried to stop the laugh at the glare Riche’e turned on Micje but my hand covered my mouth too late. He was ticked. It just glanced off Micje’s shrug, though, seeming to affect him not at all.
“It’s too bad there’s no vissure court in the building,” he said.
“That would have been a hard no.” Riche’e started to speak before he even finished the sentence. “I’m not risking an actual injury.”
“What exactly is vissure?” I asked, hoping that wasn’t an idiot question.
“Only the biggest sport in the galaxy,” Micje answered. “Your parents never showed you to a game?”
Riche’e snorted a chuckle. “Tawyn hates sports. You should hear my dad rant about it.”
“But it’s vissure,” Panda added, turning to me. “How do you not know—”
“One thing you’ll soon learn about me is I do not know many things I should know. I am sheltered and not social, until now.” I’m not sure why the glimpse of Riche’e’s smile in the corner of my eye made me proud. “So please forgive me from here for any kuma questions I ask.”
Panda was quiet for a long moment, but nodded after it. “You went from that straight to Zega?” She seemed impressed. “You certainly got lucky. I’ll help with anything you need.”
I know I got lucky because I know I would have never made it through the test to be considered a Zega recruit before the attack happened. I wondered how many other people in the lounge were blessed that way too. I also wondered how many problems that was going to cause for Zega.
I’ll try not to be one of them. No, wait. I will not. There is no try.
“Thank you,” I nodded back.
“I’ll show you vissure when I find a court. I think you’ll…” Micje trailed off as his and Riche’e’s eyes were caught on something behind me.
“Arlyxe, all!” Pilot’s sudden voice startled me to turn and watch him walk by, followed by a group of qi’qop and a couple of men. Once they were roughlyin the middle and everyone’s eyes were on them, he continued: “Rest. Tomorrow will start to ease you into physical training. Today, you’ll start to feel just a little bit heavier. I would suggest you walk the stairwells once you do, but do as you will. We’ll see you all in the lobby in the morning.”
And then they left.
“What are we supposed to do then?” Micje all but whined, flopping back in his chair.
“Walk the stairwells,” Riche’e suggested. “That should wear you out.”
“Find food,” I suggested. And study. I need to study the galaxy. And sports, I guess.
“Throw things out the window?” Panda smirked.
“Oh, that would be fun,” I perked up. I wanted to see things fly between the different gravities.
“I don’t think the windows open.” Riche’e looked to one, shaking his head.
“Then I vote food,” she huffed.
There was a tap on my shoulder. A clawed tap. Nooo, I don’t want to talk to a qicuqop today. I knew I was going to have to get over my aversion at some point but they were the ones that abducted me. I don’t want to get over it today.
I looked up and they crossed their arms. He crossed his arms. He was smiling. He was on the blue side of gray. With his thick hair short and wild that humanized him more than the rest of his race and his larger than average ears softly pointing forward, my eyes widened as I completely recognized him.
“Eddie!”
“Hello, Savanna.” His big, silver eyes blinked. His already wide mouth was even bigger, lips stretched in a way that revealed even more of the two bottom teeth that jutted out of them. He wasn’t just smiling, he was grinning. And so was I.
My heart skipped a few beats when he called me my old name.
I jumped up on the seat cushion and turned to face him, throwing my arms around him in the tightest hug I could muster. He hugged me back. If his arms were snakes, they could’ve wrapped around me twice over.
“I never tought to see you again,” he said. “What are you doing here?” For a second, his words barely registered with me. Mostly because I never expected to hear that way of speaking here, of all places. But this is Eddie, and he was always too nice to me. He was speaking in English.
“You said I could try to make a life,” I answered. It felt so weird, and so good, to actually be speaking in English. To someone who understood. “So I am!”
When he first spoke it, back when he was my caretaker, it startled me. I asked him how he learned and he said he learned it from other rudkjurt to help teach them Copan. He told me he also knew Spanish, and at least understood Chinese.
“Tiss is quite tuh choice.” He laughed softly, a gentle bubbling sound from deep in his throat. “But wit your attitude, a good one.”
I beamed.
“Wait… Why are you here?” I asked. “Is the Unjanaxe part of Zega?”
“No,” he said forcefully, with the purpose of assuaging my sudden fears. “I quit chortly after Liqeor took all my charges.”
Someone cleared their throat. It was Riche’e, staring at us with wide (and concerned?, or startled?) eyes. They were all staring.
“Oh—uh—” I sat on the armrest of the couch, switching gears. “This is Ed— This is Uppau. He is an old friend.”
“I thought you said you weren’t social,” Panda said.
“That…that does not mean I do not know anybody.”
“What language was that?”
“Uppau, is it? Riche’e Talon.” Riche’e jumped up, extending a hand toward Eddie. They grabbed wrists. “Do you have any advice for us? Gravity acclimation, maybe?”
“Don’t force anything,” he said. “Listen to Pilot, but know the balance between rest and pushing yourself. That’s essential to making it here, and in Zega.”
Hours and hours had gone by into the flight with nothing but silent people and the odd hum of the ship.
It was a space plane, set with three columns of seat rows. I had a window seat, eyes glued to all that passed outside. Passed. I don't think passed is the right word, because nothing passed since we went by Zi'inra's surprisingly blue moon. The fathomless depth of the stars drew me in and didn't let go. It created a buzzing, bottomless pit of emotion in my stomach that I didn't quite know how to interpret. I just slapped the labels fear and excitement on it and called it good.
When we took off, Pilot seemed like he wanted to give a speech, something to pep us up. But all he could muster was, “Well, this will certainly be the most memorable class since the first.”
And then it was just silent. Riche'e sat next to me, and after we exchanged a quiet smile, neither of us said anything. Until, that statement.
“You disappeared on us,” he said again less than a second later.
I took a deep breath and nodded for a long time. “Yeah, I did that, huh.”
“I mean, you just—” He raised his eyebrows, then he rubbed his hands together and shot one out in front of us. “You were on top of people, and then you just vanished.”
“Yeah… Sorry. I think I stopped thinking.” I cleared my throat. “But you look like you got out of it alright. Not a scratch.” From what skin I could see, he looked just as good as I did. “Or little enough the medicine in the camp helped.”
His face twisted into a funny, furrow-browed, sidelong smile. Look, okay, I know there was a more accurate way to say that sentence, and I probably knew the words, but give me a break.
“No, I was very lucky.” He poked at his upper arm; he brushed the fabric of his jacket smooth. “My arm is all kinds of terrible colors from falling on it, but that’s the worst I got. Kama was luckier. The only thing that stopped her from being killed was her abilities.” Hah, telekinesis sure would be a useful skill to have when things are flying at you from all sides.
I looked around, looking through the seats to see if she was anywhere nearby. “Those guys in the argument made it seem like the Cerras do not like the galaxy or something. Is that true?”
He shook his head, but I could see him tense up as he very obviously tried to keep a neutral tone. “They’re… They’re independent and proud. They have their own space program that they’re loyal to—” CASA, then? “—so they rarely bother with Zega. But I have no idea why they would do this.”
“Zega,” I lowered my voice. “Pilot and my father were fighting and they said—”
“Mansheon!!” A random shout from rows ahead of us triggered a sudden cacophony around the cabin.
Seemingly everyone went for a window on our side— I don't know what port and starboard is. Everyone crowded the right side of the ship. Riche'e and I were pressed against the wall as more heads and bodies appeared beside us, eyes peeled on the space outside.
The planet was bright, but smaller than a pea when I managed to pick it out of the sky. I don’t know how that other person was able to see it before then. But it didn’t stay small for long. In less than a minute, it grew larger and larger until it was taking up the entire window, giving us a good view as the ship slowed down.
And it was gorgeous. It was mostly green, and seemed to be mostly land instead of water. The green came in countless shades, from deep emerald to almost yellow-brown. The farther away from water, the lighter the green was. From our view, I could see three massive seas, with countless smaller ones spread between them. But the most interesting feature I could see was an insane spot of pinkish brown. In a place where it looked like there were no lakes or seas or water of any kind, there was a desert so large I wondered how it compared to the Sahara.
“That was fast,” I mumbled.
Just an inch away—too, too close—Riche’e chuckled. “You never flew with your parents?”
“Yeah, but—that’s a different situation.” Yes, Atlyana had me accompany her on one of her jobs before. I went to another planet, I don’t remember which one, but I was so stuck in my try-to-be-the-worst phase that I didn’t pay attention to anything. God, I wish I had now. “I thought it would take a couple days, not jols.”
“Space travel would suck if it took days and days to get to Mansheon,” someone said above us.
I couldn’t help but laugh. Doesn’t it take days to get to the moon on Earth? I can’t believe I get to experience this!
“Yes, there she is,” Pilot called our attention to the front of the cabin. He was watching us all with a smile. “This is your new home for the next loliel and beyond.”
People started cheering.
“Preparing for descent,” a voice said over the intercom.
“Arlyxe, listen up. Take your seats.” Pilot made his voice firm in an informative tone. The Zega recruits complied. “I’m willing to bet most of you have never been to Mansheon before. Mansheon is the largest colonized planet in our galaxy. That means you will experience gravity like you never have before. For lack of better words, it will be heavy.”
At a chime, he sat down as well strapping himself into a chair. The rest of us strapped as well.
“If you’ve been here before, you’ll know what to expect,” he continued. “But you’ve just spent time on one of the smallest planets in the galaxy.” Oh, god. I spent years on the one of the smallest planets in the galaxy.
He stopped talking as we made our descent. The ship gently shook as we went. Outside, space gave way to atmosphere and...flames? Or sparks? It was a mesmerizing light show, either way. Streaks of white and yellow and orange as we went. And then it passed in seeming seconds. The view became the most stunning blue. Then clouds. Then a cloudy sky and cities as far as I could glimpse out of the corner of my eye.
I braced for the heavy gravity, but it never seemed to come.
Five minutes later, we were parked in a shipyard, or a spaceport. There was silence again as we waited. The odd hum of the ship from before became a definite thrumming in the air. I could feel it pulsing from head to toe, and back up again. It wasn’t long until my head started hurting.
Pilot stood and faced us again.
“Where’s the gravity?” I just barely heard someone him ask.
“Oh, just you wait,” he answered. “Most of you feel the ship’s artificial gravity working right now. That’s because it’s old and the generators don’t work properly, but it’s also why I love using this vessel for new recruits. While the generators are on, you feel the equivalent of Copan gravity. That’s Zi’inra and a half.” I wondered if that compared to Earth. Or was Zi’inra like Earth? Why couldn’t I know this in Earth terms?!
“The generators will shut off gradually. Brace yourself.”
And they did. The thrumming and humming slowly stopped and I felt like an invisible hippo was sitting down on me with its full weight.
Groans sounded off from across the cabin. I looked at Riche’e, and his eyes were closed and his jaw was clenched. He was sagging.
“Is this your first time to Mansheon?” I forced out. I tried to relax, but tensed up as much a him, resting my head back against the seat. That didn’t even begin to help relieve the pressure I was feeling. My eyes even felt different.
“No,” he breathed. “But I was a kid last time.”
“Does that make it worse or better now?”
“No raqyn clue.”
Pilot was barely standing in an aisle, bent over to the side and holding on to one of the chairs.
“This—this is your first challenge as a Zega recruit:” He was trying to sound like the gravity was hardly getting to him. He started walking down the aisle, using chair after chair to help him. “Carry yourself, plus yourself, to the building just a field-length away.”
We have to do it by ourselves? I suppose I should get used to this kind of thing.
“Do not let the word challenge fool you,” he said, further down the aisle. “If you need help, speak out immediately. You will injure yourself again doing this, especially if you need assistance. You don’t need to prove anything to anyone yet.” Him saying that reminded me that most of these people were already injured from the attack on Zennae. Why would they force injured people to do this?
Please, someone, just come and carry me. I did not want to force myself to stand in this gravity. I listened to the chorus of groans grow louder as recruits began to pull themselves up and slowly follow Pilot toward the back of the ship. It was like watching vocal zombies shuffle along single file.
Riche’e and I reached for the chair backs in front of us at the same time. I waited for him to pull himself up. I’m smaller than him. I may not be as fit as he looks to be, but being smaller has to count for something, right? It didn’t feel like it. Once he was up, he looked to me, obviously waiting for me to move.
I don’t want to! Adding my voice to the chorus, I pulled with my arms and pushed with my legs, an effort I never had to make so consciously in my life before that moment. It took three attempts and Riche’e somehow mustering the strength to help me before I was standing. I think I said thank you out loud, but I really don’t know.
It was even a conscious effort to keep my eyes open once we joined the shuffling. And doing that made the slight headache I felt from the artificial gravity become a full-on head splitter.
It turned out the field-length Pilot mentioned was no more than one or two hundred feet to the building. But that was one or two hundred feet too many. Several people stood outside the ship, looking ready to help anyone who asked or just even looked like they were about to to fall over. Benches were scattered about all in our path. It seemed like whoever built the spaceport knew exactly that they should take initial steps into account.
“The first-day barracks are gravitationally isolated,” one of the people said. I didn’t have the wherewithal to appreciate how cool that sentence actually was. “Over the next ten days, you’ll be gradually acclimated to Mansheon and you’ll be ready to take on the universe!” Hah, thanks dude. “For now, all you need to do is get from here to there.”
I wanted to sit down on one of the benches so bad. And even though Pilot made it clear I should give in to that impulse, I did not. I knew that I would not get back up again. I could (and should) ask one of the helpers to drag me along, but—according to Pilot back in the survivors camp—I was the only actually healthy person here. I could make it, I could make it.
I wanted to ask Riche’e how his arm was doing, but I felt that if I tried to talk, I would lose concentration on standing and moving and breathing and one of those things would stop.
I don’t know how long it actually took to get to the building but it felt like an eternity.
And oh, the blessed relief that could be felt as soon as I made it through those open doors. The hippo was lifted from my shoulders, I could breathe and I could move. It was so freeing I almost felt woozy all of a sudden. There were couches and chairs set in groups all around the warmly decorated room we all walked into. The groans turned into thankful sighs and most of us found a seat there. I knew I’d be able to get up from that couch… in an hour or two.
There was a woman leaning on a tall desk, watching us spill in and about with the most powerful look of amusement written all over her face. She locked eyes with me and beamed with an ear-to-ear and toothy smile.
A bright light shone on my face, so sharp that I flinched as soon as I became aware of it. There was a slight breeze and the air smelled of smoke, grass, and...plastic? I opened my eyes, squinting and turning my head as I saw that the light was actually the sun shining through a sheer sheet.
It was quiet. The breeze was calming. A couple of men were talking in hushed tones just outside the opening of the tent. There were five other beds apart from mine, separated by a couple of feet each. All of them were empty, save for the one that the far end. The person laying there seemed to be red all over even with what looked like cleaned up injuries, which told me whatever happened before wasn’t just some terrifying nightmare.
That’s when I noticed gentle, periodic tics on various parts of me. There was a small, circular device on my shoulder, a thin rectangle on my side, another one on my right wrist, and a circle on my left thigh. Like the other person, I was still in my torn and bloody clothes. But unlike the other person, I had no cuts. No bruises, no evidence that anything happened to me beyond the state of my clothing. No, there was. There were faint scars, like remnants of long-healed wounds.
What were these miracle devices attached to me? Or was I actually not hurt that bad? I remember very clearly what my ribs felt like after I hit that tree and that moment I couldn’t breathe. How badly injured was the other person for them to still look like they did?
“This doesn’t happen on Zi’inra!” One of the men lost control of his voice, growling at the other.
“Tawyn?” I sat up. I was stiff. My head and shoulders ached like I just woke up from the worst afternoon nap.
Tawyn leaned into the tent, eyes widening when he saw me getting up. “Jiaal, stay there.” He came and sat on the bed across from me, taking my arm to look at the device on my wrist. “How are you feeling?” His hand was bandaged, as well as his neck, and the right side of his face was covered in bruises of various color.
“Are you a health-person now, too?” My eyebrows furrowed. He looked up when I said that makeshift word. I didn’t know the one for doctor or nurse or whatever kind of medical person it was that should be here.
“No,” he smiled. “You are beyond need of them now.” He went back to my wrist, looking at the blinking lights. At the tent door, Tawyn’s companion snorted. It was Pilot, standing with tightly crossed arms.
“You survived!” I exclaimed.
“I was between Zennaes, coming from the port.” He shook his head, looking to the person laying at the end of the bed row. “Got caught in a place where the best thing to do was just stay there.”
“What happened?” I asked as Tawyn pulled the device off my wrist, which somehow felt like a magnet as it came off. He asked if it hurt. I shook my head.
“The Cerras decided to commit suicide, that’s what happened,” Pilot growled. “We don’t know how, but they found out about—”
“This is not a discussion for a survivor’s camp.” Tawyn quickly turned and stood, voice low and forceful.
“We commissioned you, and you get to dictate when we talk about this?”
They stood there for a long moment, glaring at each other. I wanted to ask what Zega commissioned him for—as anyone naturally would—but leaning over to see the harsh look on Tawyn’s aquiline profile stopped me. I’ll find out later. That’s fine. I’ll ask later.
As they had their silent argument, I fiddled with the device on my shoulder and looked out of the tent through the see-through wall. There were more tents just like this one down a short path. They were arranged back to back in rows. I couldn’t make out just how many there were. People were walking here and there, most of whom seeming to have no purpose in their step.
A crowd gathered at the end of the row just outside this tent. As I watched them, they seemed to grow louder, like something chaotic was just taking form. Of the faces I could see, I searched, hoping to find a face I knew. Atlyana or Riche’e or Micje or Panda… Anyone.
“Fine—” Pilot huffed, accepting defeat in the argument. He frowned, or grimaced, and looked outside of the tent. “Is she healed?”
Tawyn looked at me and motioned for me to stand. I did.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“Better than I should, I think?” I stretched up and out. I wasn’t even bruised. Other that a slight lightheadedness when I stood, I just felt stiff.
He nodded, plucking the remaining devices off of me to look at them. “Yes, she’s healed. But she’s not going with you.”
“Like death, she’s not!” Pilot stepped forward. “Ninety-two applicants survived that attack! We need every single one we have left, and she’s in the best shape of them all!”
“No, I’m staying on Zi’inra, so Jiaal is staying on Zi’inra.”
“Tawyn,” I started, “Is this not what we wanted? I know this—”
“It’s what you wanted,” he shook his head. “It’s what you told me before we even adopted you. I wanted to help you with that, but this attack changes everything.”
“I told you when?” I stepped away from him and held up my hands, toward both Pilot and Tawyn, to keep them both quiet. I didn’t know which argument to try to untangle. “I do not want to stay on Zi’nra. If Zega wants me to go off Zi’inra, I really want to do it. I do not want to be in a war zone.”
Tawyn shook his head. “This isn’t a war zone. They will put you in one.”
“Untrained? Absolutely not,” Pilot scoffed. “I can’t believe you’re going to make me defend the Administration.”
“What are we going to do?” I asked.
“The ninety of you will go to Mansheon for the academy, as would have happened before the attack,” he shot a pointed look at Tawyn, “while actual members of Zega and senior recruits will deal with the Cerras as instructed by the Copan government.”
“I thought Zega was not a military…” Space exploration is literally their name. I mean, I know I compared them to Starfleet, but...
“Normally, we’re not. But that changes in wartime, especially when planets that aren’t involved are dragged into it.” He sighed, looking like he was suddenly bored. “But, like I said, you will not be a part of that.”
As...as long as I won’t be dealing with the horrors, and as long as I’ll be staying out of them. I’ll settle
“What are you two disagreeing about? What commission?”
Tawyn shifted uncomfortably, looking down at his hands and the devices he plucked off me. “A… delicate matter that may have contributed to this atrocity.”
“What does that mean?” What did they do?
“The Cerras seem to think Mansheon, Zega, and this planet have chosen a side in their war,” Pilot said. He looked for a moment like he was deliberating, twisting his lips one way and another. “And that’s all you need to know there.” Tawyn snorted with a frown. That most certainly meant they really might have.
“But if I am going to join—”
There was shouting from beyond the tents. It was the crowd at the end of the row, that chaotic energy finally coming to a head. Pilot rushed out, muttering under his breath, followed by Tawyn. And me.
I was trailing behind them, but forced myself closer once I realize the crowd was growing bigger. Spectators and more people shouting joined the fray. And the people yelling loudest were blaming someone.
“It’s your fault this happened!” someone went. I think I heard a couple hisses.
“You can’t be serious!” That voice was familiar. Kama?
“A little convenient you show up when this happens, since Cerrans never join Zega,” another person accused.
“Zyranqe!” Pilot commanded once we were in the center of the crowd. If I knew my curse words, that meant something like fucking shut up.
It was Kama. She stood to the side looking ready to fight, with Riche’e and Micje in front of her, facing a group of angry individuals that looked like the instigators of the argument. They all turned to Pilot at his shout.
“Vad’n-teaj is going on here?” He looked to the angrier ones first.
“I’m sure you heard,” one of them answered. Pilot just glared at them. “That woman had something to do with this, we know it!”
“And how do you know that? Because she’s Cerran?”
“She’s—yes! And she’s a derebajyk!”
Three of them were suddenly bowled over, flying back and hitting others on their way to the ground.
“The only attack my presence caused was that,” Kama calmly said, shaking her hands out as if she put them on the antagonists to push them.
They sputtered to the oohing chorus of spectators and Pilot stepped forward. “She joined the program at my personal invitation. The planet may have made bad choices, but she so far has not.” Well, that's good to hear at least.
“You’re not even a little bit—”
“No, I’m not.” He turned to the crowd, raising his voice again. “We’re wasting time by standing around and pointing idiotic fingers at innocent people. This attack took all of us by surprise, to say the very least, but it is no excuse to lose our heads. We’re alive and the Cerras will pay for their crimes. If one good thing came out of it: Congratulations, you’re all officially members of the Space Exploration Administration.” That silenced everyone.
“You do have a choice,” he continued. “Due to the nature of this attack, you can go home, or you can go to Mansheon. You might not want to go to school now, and that makes sense. Go home, recover, and make sure you’re ready. There will be more opportunities to join Zega in the future.”
“What happened to needing every one of them?” Tawyn crossed his arms, gesturing at me with his chin.
The look on Pilot’s face suggested he might have elbowed Tawyn had he been in arm’s length. “He’s right. We do need everyone, but it’s still your choice. Think it over. We leave in one jul.” He pointed to a small group of ships settled outside the camp.
So it’s everyone’s choice...but mine?
Still, when Pilot started walking to the ships, so did I. Something bigger was obviously going on, but I wasn’t going to let a fear of it stop me. I’m not gonna be involved in the war. I’m going to become an astronaut.
A hand grabbed my arm before I got too far.
“Jiaal, no,” Tawyn said softly.
“Tawyn, yes,” I turned, reclaiming my arm. “I am going to the Academy. I do not know what problem you suddenly have with it, and I am not going to ask what you and Pilot are really fighting about, but I am going. If you are worried about my health, you and Atlyana can just come too.”
I started walking, but my heart stopped and I turned around again.
“Atlyana is okay, right?”
Tawyn simply nodded and I sighed in relief. I really only realized just then that I hadn’t seen her.
I nodded back. “I’m going to be okay, Tawyn. You both should get away from here too, if you can.”
He started to argue again, stepping toward me, but I didn’t listen. I might as well have started running to the closest ship on the outskirt of the camp. I wasn’t going to let him rationalize or scaremonger me into staying on Zi’inra—which I knew he'd be able to do if I gave his argument half a chance. I survived the attack. I don’t know how, but I did and I want to leave and I'm not going to let anyone stop me.
For the first time since coming to the galaxy, I want to do something. I am going to do this.
There was a brief freeze as the five of us looked between each other. Everyone else in the cafeteria must have had the same reaction. We froze for what must have been less than a second, but what felt like a little eternity. That couldn't have been what I thought it was.
Because it sounded and felt like...
I was the first to jump up and run out the door when the flurry arose. People rushed past me as I ran to the railing and looked out, looked for what made the boom. Riche'e and Micje were on my right and left doing the same. There wasn't anything to see on this side of the building but there was—
There was that whistling sound again. Three planes screamed low in the sky, flying over the tower and across the river. Riche'e backed away from the railing.
"No, we have to leave!" Kama, suddenly between Micje and me, grabbed our arms as an explosion came up from the largest spaceport. The whistling in the sky was everywhere now.
"Yes!" We both responded before another rumble hit the building, softer than the first one. Two more explosions went up across the river. Both in the ports. I saw a shuttle flip before a cloud of smoke and fire was covering everything.
We went the way of the crowd, down the stairs and toward the elevator.
Another explosion, cracking and almost deafening, the sound of shattering glass. The building shook so hard I almost tripped over my feet at the bottom of the stairs.
But it knocked me to my senses on where exactly I was running, where we were all running. I grabbed Micje's sleeve, then turned around to see if Riche'e was somewhere behind me. He nearly rammed over me.
"I am not getting on the lift! I am not getting on the lift!" I looked back and forth at them, speaking as fast as I could. "Are there stairs all the way down?" Even space buildings had emergency stairwells, right?!
A blast on one of the farms. A huge one. Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god. I looked over the rail to the ground. Seven stories...
He barely paused. "This way." While he rushed ahead of us, I was practically clipping his heels and still holding on to Micje, refusing either of us be lost in the panicked crowd.
We went past the elevator, where a crowd was blocking almost the entire walkway trying to shove inside it. We cut through, Riche'e doing the most work to push people out of the way. I saw someone jump up on the railing and grab onto one of the support posts that went floor to floor down the entire building. He slid, or maybe jumped, down using that to help him. I was tempted to follow suit.
Greater Zennae came to view as we went around the tower.
“Raqe!” Micje shouted.
We could barely see the city through the black clouds. There were more explosions. Planes whistling through the air this way and that. They dropped bombs at what seemed like random. Fire, smoke, debris. I tried looking through it all to find—
“Don’t stop!” Riche’e was far ahead of us now, waving over the crowd. “This way!”
Yes. That way. That way.
The flow of the crowd was all one way, now. The way Riche’e was taking us. We went into a short hallway and followed a current of feet into a spiral well.
I don’t think mine hit any actual floor when I went along. I was stepping on more heels and toes than the metal of the tight escape route. I was still going to slow. I needed to get out. I started pushing.
Someone fell, causing a domino effect I barely managed to avoid of others tripping over each other or falling against the wall. I think I stepped on a leg.
Eventually, the tight space mercifully widened into a long ramp hallway. I think it was going around the bottom floor. The out must have been close.
The building seemed to roar. It shook. A wall cracked. From somewhere above me, there were shouts and screams.
I went to the outer wall, grabbed the rail to help pull me past people, and pushed through as fast as I could.
“Jiaal, vayd!”
The light at the end of the tunnel finally came. I feared what the ground would be like once I got out there, but at least it would be ground. I could run.
And that’s what I did as soon as I made it out the door. I didn’t stop much to look around, just to get my bearings and run to the open space of the park. The whistling was everywhere now, as well were the explosions. I had to get away from the tower. I had to get somewhere. I didn’t know. I didn’t want to get caught when the tower finally came down.
“Nud dje balk!” Someone was yelling. It was instructions, but I wasn't listening. I was running. They just kept yelling. To me, or the crowd, or themselves. I don’t know. “Xed uod ub dje kydi! Xu! Xu! Xed uod! Avai blum dje foyrtynz!”
There was a deafening boom, and the ground came away. The stone flew. Dirt flew. I flew.
I don’t know how far I went, but I hit a fallen tree on the edge of the park. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to move. Everything went quiet.
Lying there, I looked up, gasping as I forced myself to take a breath. I gasped again as that breath made me realize how much pain I was in. The whole of my right side was burning and stabbing. I was afraid to look, afraid that I’d find a branch or concrete embedded in my chest. So I lay on the small tree, staring up at a sky that was now empty of anything but smoke.
What was going on? The planes were gone.
Up in the tower, when I first saw Zennae, I tried looking for home. I wanted to see that it hadn’t been destroyed. I didn’t get to see it through the smoke. Were Atlyana and Taw— Were my parents okay?
I turned my head toward home, and a shooting pain in my shoulder. I had to see if they were okay.
I took a deep breath and rolled over. I immediately regretted that as my side screamed at me, stabbing into every nerve. My right arm joined in as it was tight and red and twisted. I didn’t have a tree branch in my chest, but I had to have a broken rib or...three. The side of my stomach was bleeding. I wanted to curl up and die right there. Just stop moving.
But I didn’t. With my good arm and one leg after the other, I slowly managed to get back on my feet. I almost fell back over with a wave of lightheadedness followed by throbbing deep in the right of my skull.
I held my side started toward home as fast as my body and the dizzy would allow. My eyes stayed on the ground, logging everything I would have to avoid, every bit of debris and person strewn in the rubble. If I tripped, I wouldn’t get up again. I would just let whatever became of me happen where I hit the ground next.
“Jiaal?”
Thank god, I didn’t have to go too far. It was maybe half a mile, probably a lot less, before I heard someone call my name. There were still people running, mostly in the opposite direction, and I looked to them first. Finally, I saw Tawyn rushing toward me from...god knows where. Some yard or broken house.
“Where’s Atlyana?” I asked, looking behind him and all around.
He started to answer as he reached for me, eyes on my injuries, but was drowned out as the terrorizing whistling was back. How many more bombs did they need to drop?!
Craning my neck as my attention went to the sky, I saw them pass overhead. One exploded in the air. Were they fighting this time?
Another one went up in flames, and it suddenly seemed like there were explosions all around us. The ground shook, the air boomed with a fury. The buildings came apart.
The street went sideways, and the world went away.
Being the first person awake was something new to me. Well, not awake, but I was never the first one skulking around the kitchen in the morning. I say skulking because I took each step as quietly as I could and opened each cupboard with as much careful control as I had. I didn’t want to make a peep. I was never the first one up.
Truth be told, I was up the entire night. I started researching the Cerran war over Creos. (It was a revolutionary war. Creos wanted independence from a government several light years away.) But as the night went on, I seemed to fall down multiple rabbit holes and came away with what felt, at the moment, like a head full of mostly useless facts.
Darebajyk were telekinetics whose origins are still debated. Kjanxe were a successful, but controversial, human-animal experiment created by qicuqop scientists. Plott had its own Broadway. Mansheon had a desert with the same surface area as “upper Plott.” The sport vissure caused the most injuries of any sport in Sa’cra. Bronud had animals almost tall as a man that looked like horned praying mantises. Space coffee is called “fewa.”
I think I watched three parts of a television show about motorcyclists. Well, they’re racers and they’re called mudulel. Motorers. I couldn’t tell if it was fiction or a docuseries.
I had my tablet with me as I went about finding food, having switched at this point to a news program. The volume was so low I could barely hear it, but I caught words here and there. I grabbed a small roll of bread from one cabinet, went around the island to see if there was anything knew inside a small box that preserved fruit. There were a few not-kiwanos. Those would do!
“This is new.”
I shrieked, spun around. Atlyana was leaning in the hallway entrance of the kitchen, smiling like she’d just witnessed a rare event. I guess she did.
“I didn’t mean to startle you.” She stepped forward, crossed her arms on the island.
“I have no idea what you are talking about,” I cleared my throat and shrugged, nonchalantly pulling myself into the table nook behind me. I made myself busy peeling at the spikes of my fruit. It was easy. All I had to do was dig a fingernail and drag.
“I didn’t think it was possible for you to come out of hiding so early.” She was still grinning as she slid across the kitchen, then into the seat across from me.
“Oh, ha-ha,” I gave her a mock smile, but nodded. “That is why I was trying to be silent. Truth said, I did not sleep. I was studying.”
“Were you? Studying?”
Atlyana seemed too excited, too eager, even for her pleasant nature. Her smile seemed to become even wider and she leaned in, arms crossed again. She looked expectant.
“Mm-hm,” I stopped peeling. “About the war, and some of the planets. Tawyn said I should look into those to help me. I want to know everything I can.”
Her eyes narrowed for a brief moment. Silence. But then she nodded too. “I’m so glad you’re actually going to do it. I didn’t think you would!”
“Neither did I.” I looked out the window, and watched people pass by on the street. Looked like it was starting to get busy. I should run off soon. “But Riche’e convinced me to do it, in a weird way. It will be fun.”
“Speaking of him,” she leaned back, “I didn’t get a chance to see or speak to you at all last night. I did catch a little glimpse, however…” She very slowly and all-too-controlled raised an eyebrow. Oh, that’s what the expectant look was about. “You two were very close.”
I threw my hands up and waved them in front of me. “We were—we were only—” I couldn’t think of any excuse, but neither was I sure that I should tell the actual story. “We were… Nothing happened. I only went with him... like that. It was nothing, really.”
“Alryxe.” Her grin was ear to ear. It was that same rare event smile from just a minute ago. “But if anything does happen, more going out, I want to hear! It’s good to meet people.” She leaned in again, green eyes sparkling. “Anything. Especially him. He is a—”
“I am not going to eat this.” My words ran together as I pushed my bread roll at her. I’m not sure I actually said a couple of the words, but I didn’t care. I jumped up with my fruit. “I should go. I do not want to be late!”
I scuttled across the kitchen to grab my tablet, turn off the still playing news program, and hopped for the door.
“Have a good day,” she sang. “Good luck at Zega!” I was out before that was even finished.
I’m not sure why the conversation she wanted to have made me flee. Maybe it was I was so used to being closed off. Maybe it was the fact that I still couldn’t figure out Richie’s true opinion of me. (Am I an idiot and helpless novelty or an actual person?) Maybe it was the fact that it felt suddenly too domestic. It was too much a normal thing, potentially talking with my new mother about going out and… things… happening.
We could talk about that stuff later. After I get kicked out of this competition. I’ll be normal and domestic and good then. Maybe she’ll teach me space recipes.
The roads were just as crowded today as they were yesterday. The market was out again, just as lively too. I wondered if this would keep up for the duration of the event, or if they’d peter out as the days went on.
I actually got to enjoy it this time around. I wandered back and forth, merchant stall to merchant stall. Some stalls were high tech boxes, some were tents, some were tables, and some were a combination. I enjoyed the music. I really liked the high-pitched throat singing and metal drums. It was a weird mix. It was a melody and beat that was really hard not to move to.
The stand that interested me most, however, was the kjanxe’s. She was there again, without the qi'qop at her side. I just wanted to see her close-up.
I maybe looked a little too conspicuously casual as I sauntered up to her tented table. She gave me a head-tilt that suggested she thought I thought I was going to get away with stealing something. I kept my eyes on the bunches of fabric—scarves?—and twisted bits of metal that seemed like really intricate and potentially painful earrings, only peeking up when she started talking to a couple of other potential patrons.
I didn’t want to overtly stare. Because that was rude. And I didn’t know how she might react.
She was hairy. Not all over, but she had fine hair all along her jaw, and sideburns. Her eyebrows were thick and went all the way to her hair, widening as they went along. Her ears were pointed and folded. Well, twisted may be the better word. And she had a short tail that looked like it might have been cropped, striped black and copper like her hair.
How did a tail work with pants? Were they special made or did she have to just—
“Do you see anything you are interested in?” She turned to me, giving me a smile that did not go to her eyes. “Or are you just looking?” The shrill emphasis on that last word made it obvious she knew exactly what I had been doing.
“Oh, I—” Crap, I had been caught and now I had to pretend I was actually interested in something. I looked back at the bits of jewelry. I cleared my throat. “Actually, how does this work?” I pointed at a coiled ear piece. It probably worked just like I was imaging. It looked like it was supposed to be twisted through the ear like an intense helix piercing.
“Jiaal! It’s Jiaal, right?” Instant relief came from up the market. Panda was standing at the last stall waving at me with wide gestures.
I excused myself and ran to her. “Good morning!” I was never so happy to see someone I’d met only once before.
“Where are your boys?” She looked around, as if they obviously should have been tailing me.
“In the tower,” I guessed and shrugged. “I know Micje is up there. Riche’e should be soon, if he is not now. Where is Kama? And your other partner? Were they at the gathering last night?”
“I didn’t see him,” she shook her head. “Not that it matters. Kama just informed me that he had already been dismissed by then, poor kid.”
Oh, so it was possible to be dismissed on the first day. I’m not sure why, but my hairs raised and I looked around, searching for those invisible cameras Micje so helpfully told me about. I couldn’t find any. But they must have been there.
“What did he do?”
She gave an over-wide shrug, then hooked our arms, pulling us toward the tower. “It doesn’t matter now. Kama and I are doing this alone. But I have an idea. She’s up in the eatery. Let’s find your boys.”
“What is your idea?” I happily followed along. I was sure they would be there as well. It was the most obvious place to meet. I was kicking myself that we hadn’t actually set up a ‘let’s meet here at this time.’ Why? Why did we miss that?
“I want to explain it with your boys. Are they in the eatery?”
“You like calling them ‘my boys.’”
“I can’t remember the tall one’s name.” Her eyebrows went down and her face twisted. “That would be a good team name, though. Jiaal and the Boys.”
I laughed. “I agree. But his name is Riche’e Talon.”
“Riche’e Talon,” she repeated. “Where are you from? I assume you have two names, too?”
Oh, you don’t know the half of it, I thought. “I am from here.” It was about time I put on the act that I was a normal human like Tawyn said I should. “My second name is Foxise.”
Why couldn’t I just go by my real name? I’m Savanna Morgan. Although, that name going through my head at that point actually felt wrong.
“Last night, you made it sound like you were from some strange planet. Animal pandas are on Zi’inra? I’ve never heard of these.”
“I—no…” I coughed, trying to come up with some lie. “I was not in my mind last night. I was saying weird things.”
She smirked and looked at me through the corner of her eye. “Ah, you were drunk. I should've seen that ”
“Yes. You should ignore whatever I said.” Okay, Riche’e, you can pop out of nowhere to save me and change the subject again and any time now.
We rounded the tower, headed toward an elevator that went to the floor just below the cafeteria. That level was strange. There was no lift to the actual cafeteria, but the floor below. Stairways led up, and then there were lifts to the rest of the tower.
The wait for the elevator wasn’t long. Almost as soon as we got to it, the doors open and humans and qi’qop spilled out. We and another small crowd quickly moved in to replace it.
“You will wait.”
One qi’qop was still in the elevator, arms stretched out to block any incomers.
I knew that voice. My heart skipped a beat then beat faster.
“Jiaal,” she said, looking down on me, and only me, unblinking. I felt Panda’s arm snake away as she took a few steps back.
“Liqeor,” I swallowed. I held onto my tablet with both hands now, hoping that hid the fact I was trembling under her gaze. I really didn’t want her to see that.
She took a step back into the elevator, and gestured for me to step in with her. I did. I took slow, deliberate steps, breathing deep to calm myself.
“You will wait,” she said to the crowd again, and pressed a couple of buttons. I saw Panda purse her lips and her eyebrows go up as the doors closed on her.
I took another deep breath.
After a moment, Liqeor pressed another button, stopping the elevator.
Liqeor was one of the qi’qop who did most of the caring, or rather handling, for me at the Orphanage. At first, it was Eddie, but he was too nice. Eddie would sometimes speak to me in English. Liqeor replaced him as my handler about halfway through my stay.
Gone were the days of arguments and reasoning and in were days of food deprivation, yelling, and insults until I had a basic grasp of the Copan language.
“Why are you here?” She turned stiffly to me, clasping her four-digit hands together in front of herself. Her hands were at her stomach, but her arms were so long that her elbows went nearly all the way across the lift.
I couldn’t hold her stare. My eyes went to my feet. “I am here because I am joining Zega.”
“Are you really?” Her deep voice went up and down in an unmistakable tone of incredulity. Her small ears flapped, then both of them went forward. That was aggression... or confidence. I wasn’t an expert. “A slow kuma? You cannot even look at me.”
My heart was pounding, so hard I was sure that she could hear it even with her head a foot and a half above mine. But I bit my lip and looked up. “So? That changes nothing.”
She snorted.
“I am joining Zega,” I said again, a little more confidence in my voice.
She snorted again. “Rudkjurt can’t join Zega.”
“I can.” The confidence was unconvincing. Definitely to me, but I knew she wasn’t buying it either.
“Rudkjurt don’t join Zega.”
“I will.”
Her ears flapped again.
“I want to try, at least! You cannot force me into this life and expect that I do not want to do something with myself.”
She snorted a third time and turned away, punching a button. The elevator softly jolted. “You are not going anywhere. Enjoy your day.”
It was silence after that. We went as far up as the elevator goes, where Panda and I were wanting to go. Liqeor stepped off before me.
I waited until she walked left or right, then walked out in the opposite direction.
What was the point of that? Why did she have to do that? Was she waiting for me? What was her goal?
I hate qicuqop.
I rushed for the cafeteria, up the stairs. The breeze running through the mid-tower walkway was welcome, and just a little bit of an immediate calm. It was nice, paired with the view of the forking river. But it wasn’t enough to calm all the nerves from just thinking about Liqeor.
Riche’e and Micje were at a table near the door, sitting across from each other, both leaning over a paper-sleeve sheet with eyes glued. They were murmuring to each other. I took the seat next Micje and looked over his shoulder.
“What is so interesting?” I looked at the sheet. It was just a wall of text. I don't know what I was expecting.
“Finally,” Riche’e looked up. He pushed the sheet toward me. “We received our assignment.”
Micje turned toward me, but he kept his eyes on the text. “Did they give us this scenario because of you?”
“Oh…?” I didn't like the sound of that. “Eh… Let us see.”
I tapped the text on the sheet and told it to read aloud. They both gave me a weird look, but let it happen.
“The Administration has decided to look into the Copan Orphanage,” a calm, barely computerized voice started. “We want to know where their rudkjurt, their so-called orphans, come from, as the pattern of appearances have caught our attention.”
I couldn't believe this, but I was actually getting tired of hearing about rudkjurt.
The voice continued: “Your team has been selected for the task at hand. By the end of the week, you are to have contacted the qicuqop in charge of the operation, questioned the relevant individuals, and be decided on whether or not a continuation of the investigation is needed. Academy Head Mikjer Dlokku and agent Liqeor Qaja will play the parts of the Orphanage administrators you are to contact.”
My head hit the table. I whined. “Why her? Anyone but her.” This is bullshit!
“You know the agent?” Micje lowered his head in an attempt to make eye contact.
“Yes.” I wrapped my arms around my head so he couldn't. “And I do not want to talk about it.”
So that's why she was there. She was literally there for me.
“Sit up,” Riche'e said after a moment. I did. “I'm not sure how much contact we'll actually have with either of them. This is a real investigation. This is what I talking about yesterday.”
I put my head in a hand, but looked at the sheet as if I could read those stupid glyphs. Copan writing didn't really have paragraphs. The wall of text was one sentence per line. Occasionally there'd be a break between lines, but I didn't know why.
“Why does that mean we might not have a lot of contact?” I looked up at him.
He scrolled through the text. “Along with the scenario, we were sent all the packets from the real investigation. It's actually—”
“There you are!” Panda came running into the cafeteria, sights set on me. She slid into the seat across from me. She actually pushed Riche'e aside a little bit. “What was that about? What did she want?”
“Who?” Both Riche'e and Micje went at the same time.
I swallowed, ignored them. “She and I have a history. I guess you can say she was... a mentor. She was testing my resolve.” I smiled, feeling that was vague yet satisfying enough.
“Shu’shused,” she sighed. “I thought you were being dismissed. That would've been disappointing. You're kind of odd and I want you to last at least the full week.”
“Thank… Thank you?” I didn't quite know how to respond to that.
“Who are you talking about?” Micje prodded.
“A really sharp qi’qop,” Panda answered. “She kicked everyone out of the lift to have a private conversation with Jiaal. She looked kind of harsh.”
“She is harsh,” I quietly added. But that's enough of that. “Where is Kama? You had an idea?”
“Yes! She should be here…” Panda stood and looked around. She spotted Kama across the cafeteria, whistled, and waved.
Kama was quick to make her way through the tables to ours. It was getting crowded.
Panda was grinning when she sat down again. “Arlyxe, Kama and I discussed this at length this morning. We suggest working together on our assignments.”
“Is that allowed?” I went through my brain trying to remember if Pilot mentioned something about that at the orientation.
“It's not not allowed,” Riche'e said.
“Exactly,” Panda nodded. “It's not stated anywhere that we can't. And I think it will help us in…”
A loud whirring came from the cuff on Riche'e’s wrist, drowning Panda out. Then it came from Micje’s. Then my tablet. The shrill screaming sound spread to every device in the hall.
There was a distant whistling, somehow audible over this alarm. There was a boom.
The Talon Estate looked like the rest of the homes along the perimeter road. Most of the buildings on the road, including my home, looked more or less cookie-cutter. The basic style was a rectangle box with two or three bedrooms, a kitchen, and a small sitting room. The homes were surrounded by small hedges with a tiny front yard and a considerable backyard, perfect for enjoying life on the river. They were sleek and fancy boxes, but they were boxes. Any deviations from this model were built up or (in Tawyn's case) down to save space. There were some tall homes on the road.
The one difference with this estate, however, was that it was massive. It followed the design of the rest, but was probably ten times the size of any of them. I'd been here before, but the difference between them still caught me off guard. And the entire property was full of party goers—er, gathering attendees? There was a stark difference between the local socialites and the Zega recruits. I was dressed like the socialites; I wished I could look like the rest of Zega.
"Talon Estate" wasn't the right thing to call it. When I mentioned it to Riche'e, he corrected me, saying Tay Falon is the proper title. Talon was his and his sister's second name, but not their parents. Since it belonged to their parents and neither of them, it would be called the Tay Falon Estate. He was very clear about that. Tay Falon, not Talon. Got it.
"Be vigilant," Riche'e quietly leaned into me. "I don't know where they are."
"Be vigilant?" I looked up at him, trying to look totally at ease with our arms hooked together. "I am not totally sure who they are."
We stood in the wide open foyer, at the base of a flight of stairs, posed and waiting like a couple of dogs someone very sternly told to stay. We were—well, Riche'e was—approached a couple of times, mostly took greetings in passing, and I could feel us becoming more and more stiff the longer this went on. I think Riche'e overthought the entire situation and his brain froze. He was the one that was supposed to be leading the act, wasn't he? We should have been doing...something, shouldn’t we?
But it got to be too much, even for me. My feet were starting to hurt and I needed to move. I unhooked our arms and took his hand.
"Should we wander?" I stepped away and tugged. "I think standing there looks odd, does it not? Your parents would never believe it. Should we try the food Atlyana helped with? Is Micje here?" Next time I saw Micje, I was going to ask if I could just call him Mickey.
Riche'e nodded. "He should be, yes. I told him before I left the tower."
"Good. Did you personally tell everyone in the tower?" I realized it was very possible that I missed a bunch of posters that screamed ZEGA PARTY plastered on walls all over the tower. I wouldn't have been able to read them anyway.
"No," Riche'e chuckled, "but I did help. A couple people to help and then you tell them to spread the word. This isn't a high function, despite how we're dressed. Free food and drinks for all is a very effective invitation." Of all the universal truths out there, that had to be the most true.
We wandered about the lower floor, room through room, past table and mingling group after table and mingling group. Every plate and tablecloth and utensil was brown and white and gold, just like the mess hall at the tower, which made me wonder if these were the official Zega colors. None of the officials I saw seemed to be following this color scheme. Thinking back to Pilot's introduction, everyone on the stage was in black.
We must have gone through five drawing rooms before we went through what had to be a dining room on a normal day. I only say that because this one had a door that led to the kitchen. There was a flurry of caterers coming in and out.
I tried to peek inside to see if Atlyana was in there, but we were stopped by a tall blonde with insanely long and silky hair. For the first moment, I couldn't see anything past how smooth her hair looked.
"Rich!" She was smiling something between an ear-to-ear grin and a playful smirk. "I was beginning to think you decided to camp at the tower." She looked me up and down, much less enthralled by my appearance than I was hers.
He gave her a half-hearted laugh. “I might as well.” He gestured between us. "Jiaal, this is my sister, Jinae. Jinae, Jiaal."
Jinae gave me a small smile similar, warm and polite, and held up a hand for the first actual handshake I'd had in years. It was light and quick. I wondered if that was her or how it was done. I tried grabbing her hand a lot harder than she took mine.
"It is a pleasure to meet you Jiaal," she said in a slow and measured tone. "I see your obsession with rudkjurt continues, Riche'e."
Before he could say anything, she turned around and called to their mother, waving her out of a small crowd.
"He wasn't lying," she said over the noise. "There is a girl!" She then made off for the kitchen and called someone else, presumably their father.
I looked at Riche'e with raised eyebrows. "Obsession?" He only shook his head.
The moment of truth came as his family approached us from two sides. His mother came from the left and Jinae and their father came from the front. Mom and dad's eyes were locked on me. With frowns. I held Riche'e's hand tighter and hugged his arm with my other, smiling at them as innocently as I could.
They looked much younger than I thought they would. They didn't look old enough to have children the ages of Jinae and Riche'e. Then again, I did just find out Riche'e was two and I counted ages wrong, so what assumptions could I make?
"Mother, father!" Riche'e greeted, seeming to muster the most innocent tone he could. "I was beginning to wonder if we would see you at all this evening."
"We were thinking the same," Riche'e's father said, "especially after the argument." His dark eyes were all over Riche'e's face, like x-rays trying to see past a mask.
"You must be Jiaal, the Foxise," Riche'e's mother said. She was doing the same thing to me. "I'm glad to finally have a proper introduction. I am Jalay Falon. This is Raolen."
"Zel Tay," Raolen said. "Mistress Falon." Zel, I think, meant something like sir, or mister.
"Father—" Riche'e groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. I saw Jinae's face light up behind them. It was clear this argument was a source of entertainment.
And then it was like a ball pushed down a hill as they picked up in the middle of a quiet argument and just kept going. Zel Tay and Mistress Falon went over again the benefits of the maiul's daughter, as if trying to sell him a dream vacation or a fancy car. At every turn, he countered with Zega and our imagined relationship.
We've been seeing each other for a demiloliel, which wasn't even half a denlol, and were very quietly preparing for Zega together. I added that that's how it started, our mutual interest in Zega. They didn't look pleased with my interjection.
"What we suggest doesn't have to interfere with this...this," Mistress Falon tried to offer.
Riche'e sighed. He looked each of them in the eye and shook his head. "I know you intend a marriage arrangement. If it is to be a discussion, it will be a discussion between Jiaal and I if Zega fails for the both us."
I nodded, then my head jerked. Wait, no. That wasn't part of the—
"But she's a rudkjurt!" Zel Tay nearly shouted.
"Yes," Riche'e clipped. "I'll say hello to the heiress if I see her tonight. Goodbye."
We left with a quick step. Riche'e was in a hurry to be somewhere else and it looked like he was taking us to the backyard. It looked more lively and relaxed out there. A skeleton of a gazebo centered the yard with tables and string lights everywhere. I recognized a few faces I'd seen earlier in the day. None of them were Micje, but this was the true Zega party.
My heart was pounding. We passed a table full of hors d'oeuvres. I grabbed the first thing I could reach, a green and pink morsel, and shoved it in my mouth. It was salty but mostly sweet, like apple and crab.
I gave the patio and greenery a quick look, searching for an empty corner. The spot with the fewest people was down by the water. I wrenched my hand from Riche'e's and grabbed his wrist. I pulled him there.
Once I felt we were sufficiently alone and around ears that wouldn’t care: "They are going to set us up!"
"No, they're not." He just shook his head. "They won't."
"You brought it up! You suggested it! Tawyn and Atlyana are not low class, as you have said. If they all talk, they will try to marry us! Why did you bring it up?"
His lips zipped and eyes drifted to the air. "Don't worry. They won't let it happen and at least one of us will be a part of the Administration. We'll be fine." At least one of us.
"They will nott approve because I am a rudkjurt." Before today, I felt the word was just a title. I'm pretty sure it was, but it was starting to feel like a slur. "Why exactly? Because I am confused? Also, what is your obsession?"
He shifted on his feet, looking at the river. "I'm not obsessed. I've just studied rudkjurt, because I've been as curious as anyone with a brain is about kids like you. Rudkjurt means lost child. So I've researched." He turned to me again. "They won't approve because of that, yes. And your decreased lifespan."
My eyebrows lowered. "My what?"
"Most rudkjurt live about eight loliels. That's more than ten times less than a normal human."
There is no way that was true. Eight— They live more than eighty loliels? I thought a loliel was a year. Riche'e was two. Was I almost two? I had six loliels left?
"How long— How many days is a loliel?"
He cleared his throat. "A loliel is..." He said a number. A big number. My eyes glazed. "A loliel is ten denlols. A denlol is three and a half demiloliels, plus ten. A demiloliel is—"
"One hundred days," I said. He nodded. One hundred. Three hundred sixty. Three thousand six hundred.
A loliel was a decade.
I felt a weird sensation, like vertigo, like a dolly zoom just happened all around me. This...was a change.
I realized I had a normal amount of time left. That panic went away. But I also realized that meant Riche'e and every other human I could see at that moment would live over eight hundred years more.
What the fuck? What the fuck?
"Hey, there you guys are!"
Micje was suddenly upon us, tripping down the gentle incline. His interruption was a welcome distraction. I wanted to run home to hide and process that very long lifespan. But I couldn't now. Micje found us.
Two women trailed behind him. Well, he was making friends.
"I've been making friends," he beamed as if he just read my mind. "This is Panda and Kama Kamae. They're here for the program as well. And they are very interesting."
I wondered if Riche'e's free drink statement meant alcohol. It must have. Micje seemed a little more outgoing.
"Panda, just Panda," one of the ladies said. She had black hair, black eyes, and a grin as wide as Micje's. "I'm from Bronud, like Pilot, so you don't have to worry about remembering two names."
"Your name is Panda? Pilot is his actual name?" I felt like I'd somehow misheard everything.
"Yes, and yes," she laughed. "Is that strange?"
"I thought Pilot was a title. Where I am from, both panda and pilot are not names."
She raised a long eyebrow. "What are they?"
"Pilot is a career. And a panda is a big, furry animal." I missed pandas. I missed bears.
"Where are you from?"
"And you are Kama Kamae?" Riche'e cut in, leaning toward the other woman.
She nodded, slowly, in response. She had darker skin than the rest of us. In the shine of the lights, what I first thought was also black hair looked like it was actually purple. Her smile was not as large as Micje or Panda's. She looked wary.
"I'm from the Cerras," she said.
Riche'e stood taller at that statement. "Which one?"
She held up a hand. "Please, before we go farther, I don't want to start a war debate. I know I am Cerran, but I came to get away from the war."
This must be what Tawyn started to talk about before Riche'e showed up. He mentioned something about Sa'cra's current state. War? I did hear off and on about a war in the past...uh, denlol?, but never gave it thought. Zi'inra clearly wasn't involved.
"But if you're from a Cerra," Riche'e said, "you have better insight on it than the rest of us. I don't want to start a debate. Are you from Vee?"
I was going to have to research this when I got home.
"Yes," Kama nodded.
"I was reading about the new jets they are using against Creos. Why did they release the list in that public statement? It was rather unusual."
Kama only nodded again, keeping her eyes on his. She really didn't want to talk about the war.
"Do you know any derebajyk?" Micje leaned in now. Dereb...ay...what?
She looked at him for a long, silent moment before looking over her shoulder then shuffling her feet. We were standing in a circle now. She lifted a hand again and started petting the air. Her eyes went to Micje.
"Do you feel that?" She was smiling again, rather enthusiastically now.
He grabbed at his chest with wide eyes. He swiped like he was trying to knock something off. She lifted her other hand and his froze.
"You are a derebajyk!" He gasped.
"We're not as rare as people think." Dropping her hand, she was grinning now. Micje relaxed. "Comparatively, sure. But we're more than a third of the Cerran population."
I accepted that I was about to be looked at like a kuma. "What is a derebajyk? What were you doing?"
Yep, there was the look. Both Panda and Kama gave it to me, twisted eyebrows and side-pulled lips.
"We are special," Kama shrugged. "We can manipulate air currents and physical objects. I was playing with his heart. Gently, of course. I don't want to hurt anybody."
Telekinesis! A planet of Jean Greys?! No, they said there’s more than one Cerra. Multiple planets of Jean Greys?!
"That must give your soldiers an edge," Riche'e commented.
Kama frowned again at the reference to the war.
"I apologize," I said, patting Riche'e's arm. "I am learning that he obsesses."
Riche'e all but pushed me into my room when it was pointed out. He closed the door behind us and quickly spun around to get a look at the room. He pointed at a tall mirror, the closet door beside it. He pointed at the squat dresser next to my bed, the door to the bathroom across from that. He was nodding and whispering to himself.
He looked at me. "Why are the drawers out here?"
"Um," I looked at the bathroom door, where he was still pointing, "are they usually somewhere else?"
"It doesn't matter." With a dismissive wave of his hand, he leaped at the closet door panel and tapped it to open, then spun for the bathroom.
This, I assumed, was my cue to look for something to wear. I stepped up and started sliding dresses, blouses, and pants. A party for Zega hopefuls hosted by high society folks. Right. Okay.
I looked back. He did seem to stop and take a breath inside the bathroom, but that was really to bend over and glance in the long wall mirror, and carefully run his hands through his dark blonde hair. I hadn't noticed any strands out of place. To me, it still looked like the perfect short coif it was this morning, but I guess he saw something off.
The moment ended and he spun around to the cabinet. Eagle eyes spotted exactly what he was looking for inside.
"What is this about?" I prodded as I returned to the clothes. I heard a clunk of a small box on my bed. What kind of outfit is expected here? Am I supposed to look fancy? Am I supposed to look professional? Relaxed? "What should I—"
"No, you just stand here." He grabbed me by the waist and I froze, letting him pull me back to wherever he felt I was needed.
That's when he started digging through everything. He pulled out one potential outfit—a black jumper with a white stripe that swirled around a leg then the body—and thought for a moment. He shook his head and kept looking.
Okay, so I guess he was just going to go through every single thing. My room, the bathroom, the cabinet, my clothes. Sure, why not?
"Most of this looks like you haven't worn it once," he glanced back, pulling out another potential to examine. "Did you never go anywhere?"
"I have been to a few—" I stopped and huffed, crossing my arms. "Does it matter? What is going on? You are going through my clothes. I am feeling a little—"
"Aha! This will work." He pulled out a dress and held it to himself, as if to model, and grinned at me.
It was boat-necked, cold-shouldered with a single strap as sleeves, and faded from a cool red to a black pencil skirt. White flowers dotted the right shoulder and side. I did always like that dress but feared picking out for anything Atlyana dragged me to because it also had a very, very low back. She was the one who brought it home for me, but I could never bring myself to put it on. You had to have confidence to wear a dress like that.
But, I mean, of course the man going through my closet would pick that one.
"You would look wonderful in that," I bit my lip and nodded. "I assume you have nice legs and it would really bring out your curves."
He play laughed and held it out to me. I didn't take it.
"Can I not get away with something less..." I didn't know what to say so I pointed over my shoulder at my back. He looked at the back of the dress and shook his head.
"This is alive, but also refined." He bobbed the dress, emphasizing that he was handing it to me. I took it. "I know they like to stay low profile, but you are the daughter of a cook whose name is known in restaurants across the galaxy. And your father is an akumbryzjet kjemyz. They are famous. Look the part. Be proud."
I guess the dress wasn't...too daunting...
"If I am wearing this, you need to leave."
Without further prodding, he leaped away, grabbing the box he threw on my bed and returning to the bathroom. I shuffled to the corner, just to ensure that I was hidden from sight.
That box was full of makeup that I'd never used, apart from one lip stain and what I hoped was eyeliner. Riche'e noticed this as well. I could hearing him muttering about it as he did...whatever he was doing in there.
"Why are you doing this?" I asked, dress hanger in my teeth. I switched clothes as fast as I could. I kicked off my shoes, unbuttoned my blouse with fumbling hands, and pulled off my pants with my feet. I immediately lost balance with my pants and fell against the wall with a thud. I persevered. Eventually, I was able to step into the dress.
"Come in here," Riche'e called, ignoring my question again. I huffed and obeyed.
There was hurried scooping. He changed his mind?
He was out of the bathroom before I got to it. "No, sit there." He pointed to my bed.
This was starting to become funny. I backed to the bed and sat. He laid a cloth to the left of me, and carefully yet deliberately dumped the contents of the box onto it. To the right of me, he dropped a handful of hairpins. He was a stylist, and now he was going to give me a makeover. Was there anything this Zega recruit couldn't do?
"Are you a face artist, Riche'e?" I just sat back, awaiting my fate.
"It's a long story, but it's my sister's fault," he answered. That’s a story I wanted to hear. "You really have so much at your disposal. It's a shame most of this is untouched."
"Yeah," I looked at the makeup with a twinge of shame. "I have been very difficult until recently."
He chuckled with a nod, picking up a few pins. "I heard about the broken window."
My eyes went wide and my jaw dropped. My face and neck went hot. I curled up and covered my face. "No!"
When I'd first come to this house, I viewed my situation as something like a dog. The way the qicuqop paraded humans through the Orphanage made me feel like the other kids and I were stray dogs just waiting to be taken home from the pound. And I took that line of thought a step further in trying to be a bad dog. I figured, if I lashed out enough, they'd take me back to the pound and then maybe the qicuqop would dump me back on Earth for being useless.
The height of that mindset resulted in me throwing a crystal ball the size of a grapefruit at the window in the dining nook. Went straight through the window and most of the glass fell from the frame.
Still, they kept me.
I hoped to never hear about that incident ever again, outside my periodic mental chastisement.
He put his hands on my shoulders and pulled me back up. "It's not the worst thing I've heard about with rudkjurt. It's up there, but it's not the worst." He turned my head and ran a hand through my hair to gather an appropriate lock together. "Now sit still."
That might be best. I looked awkwardly at the closet and sat as still as I could as he rushed a braid onto one side of my head, pinned it in place, and then turned me so he could do the other side. But then it started to become even more uncomfortable.
"To be honest," I slapped his hands away after a silent moment, "you should have done my face, because I can do my own hair. Braids are one of the few things I am good at. That, and I am interested and afraid of what you are going to do to me."
"I am, too," he smirked and stepped back. "Braid? Is that what 'Earth' calls weaves?"
I snorted. "No, that is something completely different." I grabbed my hair and twisted it around. I didn't care what he was going to do, two braids and a bun were going to look just as good.
Since I knew he wasn't going to answer if I asked what was going on again, I played with the makeup.
"So what is the fancy style of the rich? Or people our age? Please tell me it is not scary." Garish, gaudy... Whatever those words were in Copan. Flashy! I could have said flashy, but the best thing I could think was "scary."
He pursed his lips and rocked on his feet. His eyes glazed, then he frowned like he did when I first saw him that morning. I started to worry that I had said—
"My mother and father are trying to set me up," he finally said. His lips pulled to the side and twisted. He started pacing. "It's the shu'raqyn high class with high class sked. I need you to help me remind my parents that, first, I can choose my own men and women and, second, I don't need or want Maiul Huzeb's daughter."
"I knew there was something else to this!" I jumped up and pointed in triumph. I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!
He rolled his eyes. "Yes, this is what I need. I didn't want to say that in front of your parents."
The fact I was grinning was so stupid. "You are lucky I was suspicious and not flattered." I was a little flattered about this, though. He wanted me to pretend to be his girlfriend. "Wait, the maiul's daughter? Is that not...the boss of the city?"
That was one of the few things I took upon myself to learn, out of pure curiosity, after listening to a conversation. As far as I knew, a maiul governed a city and small areas around said city. The title is hereditary and usually follows the family that first established the city. They were like mini-kings, which made the girl he was trying to avoid a mini-princess. Who didn't want to get set up with a princess?
"Zennae and more," he was nodding.
I couldn't believe I was getting pulled into a plot like this. This was amazing. "So you want me to be seen with you so just so they will not set you up?"
"Yes," he kept nodding. "I'm afraid that if I'm alone and so much as smile politely, they'll try to arrange a marriage. They've always wanted me to marry up."
Well, that kicked up a level. "Zi'inra does arranged marriages?"
He squinted. "Sa'cra. And I am trying to avoid—"
"The entire galaxy—I am sorry." I shook my head, holding my hands up. "I need this explained to me. I did not know about arranged marriages!" What kind of galactic society was this?
"Marriage is nothing but a business arrangement. It ensures heirs to the future of our families' businesses."
Go, Talons. They wanted to be the grandparents of a maiul.
"But you do not want to do this because...?"
"Because I'm making my career in Zega. They think it's just a threat."
Tawyn wasn't kidding about what he said. Riche'e was serious.
"But you are a grown man." I waved my hand up and down, gesturing at all of him as if that somehow emphasized the fact he was an adult. "You are, what, twenty-five? Twenty-six? Can you not choose your own marriage partner?"
A look of horror flashed in his slate eyes. "Twenty-six?! I'm two! You think I'd be twenty-six and still in this stage of life?"
"Two?" Two. He was two? Suddenly, I was questioning how old I thought I was.
I could see gears turning in his head as he looked to the side. He looked at me again with a furrowed brow. "Do you count by denlols?" He waved a hand before I could answer. "It doesn't matter. The marriage is a long standing argument my mother and father will not drop. If they see me with you, a rudkjurt and a Zega recruit, and we look...serious, they'll drop the conversation long enough for my career to become set."
Oh, I didn't like the way rudkjurt came up in that sentence. I bit my tongue, though. I didn't want to know the answer to why my being a rudkjurt would factor into this whole thing.
"Arlyxe," I exhaled. I turned to the mirror, straightening out my dress. "I guess I should look as good as I can." I looked warily at the pile of makeup supplies on the bed. "Do your worst. Best."
Less than ten minutes later, we were looking in the mirror again, looking at the final product. He put the most dramatic lines across my eyes, black and red like the dress, wings almost long enough to touch my eyebrows. It was a look I’d never dare to do to myself, but he didn’t do a half-bad job. He nodded, clearly pleased with himself. I was in heels and he still stood a full head taller than me, not that height was ever my strong suit.
We all but ran out the front door, barely managing to avoid both Tawyn and Atlyana. I was actually dolled up, with fancy shoes and clothes and makeup, and I didn’t want to delay any more for fear I would become too self conscious about the getup. That and the fact I’d never had to fake-out someone’s parents like this. I never dreamed (or nightmared) I’d be in this situation.
This would be fun, I told myself. This has to be fun. It’s not as nerve-wracking as it sounds. Not at all. Just act your heart out, Jiaal.
Bursting inside the house that afternoon had me feeling like I should have thrown a backpack on the couch, like I'd just come home from the first day of school. Of course, even if I did have a backpack, I wouldn't, because the front room was always the most pristine room in this house and I was always afraid to be in it for my mere presence would sully the ground.
There wasn't even anything special in that room. It was simply a single couch wrapped around the walls that surrounded a coffee table. Literally a sitting room.
Coffee table wasn't exactly the right word for the thing, either... It was more of an entertainment table... A TV table? Out of the center of the table could rise a semi-clear screen that the three of us would only occasionally watch. Movies existed throughout the entire galaxy. I could have been sitting and watching intergalactic movies and I got the luck of being adopted to a family that preferred living out of the house.
Speaking of...
I called for Tawyn again when I realized I was met with only silence. I went through the kitchen, rounded to the hallway, looked back and forth, and headed toward our rooms.
"Tawyn?" I knocked on his and Atlyana's bedroom door before sliding it open just a little bit to peek inside. Neither of them were there. I looked into my room, looked out the window toward the river, and went back to the kitchen to look out the front window. Out past the greenery of the small yard, there was the cobble-like street and people walking and buzzing by, but not who I was looking for.
I went back to the hallway. "Atlyana...?"
At the far end of the hall, between my room and theirs was window door leading to the back garden. That was the real recreation area. One of them had to be out there. It was a lush, green square area overlooking the Aqyma. A stone table perfectly centered the area, with benches all around. The hedge bushes lining the outer edge of the property were flowering purple and orange. The shade tree just off to the side of the stone table was bright yellow. I noticed that it bloomed in the opposite season as the bushes. When their leaves turn yellow, it's leaves became green and sprouted red flowers that hung from bell shaped stalks.
But for all I could see out there, my adoptive parents were still not present. Huffing, I went back inside.
"Taw—!" As I called again, I saw he was standing in front of an open door that blocked off the entire hall know that it was open. It was the only door I didn't think to knock on, quite ridiculously in hindsight. His basement lab. The door was so thick, I wondered if he'd answered me when I first called and I just didn't hear him. Or if he heard me at all.
"You're home earlier than I expected!" He was grinning. "Come down." He gestured quickly and turned for the stairway that door led to. I followed.
I'd only been down there once before, when he first told me about what he does for a living. Of course, that was back when I still couldn't understand most Copan. All I saw was "mouse" cages, computers, vials, liquids, and metal tables. All I still knew for sure was he was commissioned to do...his chemistry stuff.
There was once some kind of explosion of smoke early one morning. Pink smoke. Atlyana and I quickly had to leave the house and weren't able to return until late that night when he deemed his safe to return. He asked about our ongoing health for days and days afterward.
"You're earlier than I expected!" Tawyn said again, pushing out a stool for me to sit on. "Tell me about your day." He leaned on his elbow against the high table, lacing his fingers as he folded his hands. I couldn't believe his eagerness.
"Well..." I looked around the lab as I sat and mirrored him. "Arlyxe, I guess they are doing it different this time. That is what Pilot said. So it is going to be six more days, one test, and I think we are tested as a group. How was it done before?"
"Usually, it's much longer," he nodded. "Before, it's been almost a demiloliel and seven tests. I wonder if the war has changed their minds this time around."
Oh, that didn't sound good.
"So you received your partners? Where are they from?"
The fun details. "The first one is named Micje Lace. I think he said he is from a planet called Glau? I think he is a sport man. He and a friend were throwing around something called a 'vissure ball.' He is living in the student levels of the tower during the test. The other is a man named Riche'e Talon. He's from here." Tawyn's eyebrows raised in recognition. "He is... I think he is very serious about his potential place in Zega."
Tawyn leaned back an inch and nodded. "Yes, I know him. I work with his father often. I'm surprised he's actually trying to get into Zega. I always thought it was sort of a child rebel thing he was going through."
Child...rebel... "Why?"
"Well-off heirs almost never go into an institution like Zega. They usually sit at home on their inherited fortunes and take over the family businesses." He chuckled. "They threaten that they're going to abandon it all to work for the galaxy, but they never make good. Almost never. I wonder if he'll make it."
Riche'e Talon. Rebellious Princess Syndrome. No wonder he hates the thought of me being on his team. I jeopardize his escape plan.
"So," Tawyn moved the subject along. "You said you'd give it a day and then decide. What have you decided after today?"
I bit my lips, watching him anticipate my answer. I wondered if I should tell him about that promise I made Riche'e.
"Why do you want me to be in Zega so bad," I decided to ask first. "It cannot just be to get me out of the house, to get me doing something. Why the Space Exploration Administration?" I fumbled through that title. Zake Egfruladyun Atmynyzladryun wasn't the easiest thing for my primitive American tongue to say.
He was surprised by that question. His eyebrows raised and he looked at the vials and tablets on the table, poking at them and mumbling for a moment. "I had a conversation with someone interested in your future. They suggested very adamantly that you'd do well in Zega."
"You what?" My turn to be taken aback. "Who was it? Why are they interested in my future?"
He smiled. "I don't think I should say, because you will find out."
"Who? Was it Eddie?"
The only people I could think of that would know me and be interested in my future were qicuqop. And not many qicuqop either. During my time in the Orphanage, I'd gotten to know two very well. One, Liqeor, was as horrible as every other qi'qop I'd ever had the pleasure of talking to. Gruff, condescending, stand-offish. The other was named Uppau. I don't know why I called him Eddie, but I just did. I guess he looked like an Eddie. He was the one nice qi'qop. I think it was his job to be nice. He told me that there were things to see and do in the galaxy. He said I didn't have to be just a rudkjurt. I'll find things to be.
"No. They were—" He closed his mouth, still smiling, and looked at me. He put a hand on mine. "Just trust me, child. It's something best left to finding out on your own." I mean, that was hair-raising. But okay.
"So? Have you decided?"
I swallowed. "I do not know anything about the galaxy. Can I not take real school first?"
He shook his head. "You know more than you think you do. All you need to know is the Capital Planets, Copan, and to not be a kuma. Which I know you're not, despite how you pretend to be."
I bit my lip. He raised an eyebrow.
"It really is a good program," he continued. "It is a simple, yet lyxuluz, program. This event is only to add to the prestige, and that they can only take so many. So they choose the ones they think... I don't know the selection process. All I know is anyone can do it as long as they have an open mind." He pointed at me, very sternly. "Do not tell anyone I told you that. They have an image to keep."
"Were you in Zega?"
"No, but I work with them very often. And Pilot is a good friend."
I turned to the table, and rocked the stool a little. I nodded, then crossed my arms on the metal surface and dropped my head into them. I might as well embrace this science fiction movie I'd been dropped into. Better late than never.
"Arlyxe, well, I have to do it no matter what." I looked up at him. "I think I made a promise to Riche'e and it would be really..." I bit my lip. "What is the word for feeling not good... for..." I grabbed at the center of my chest and frowned, trying to show anxious or awkwardness. I didn't know if that even made sense. How do I describe embarrassment? "What is the word for feeling not good because of someone else? Because you said or did something?"
Tawyn's eyes narrowed and drifted to the side. "Shame? Oh, you're thinking of emfalaz. 'It would be emfalazyn...'"
Yd vuort fe emfalazyn... "It would be embarrassing if I failed that promise by saying no now. I put myself in a corner."
"What did you promise?" He already knew. I could see it in the way his eyes were lighting up.
"That I would be selected and be in the program." He grinned again, ear to ear, as I said that. I breathed deep. "So then... what do I need to know about the planets? I know of Zi'inra, Glau, Dubleh, B'une, Mansion—"
"Mansheon," he corrected. He adjusted himself in his seat and pulled up his sleeve. There was another damn one of those cuffs! What the hell, man?
Four symbols lit up on the inside of his arm as the light hit the sheet. He tapped the last one and, on the cuff itself, slid a finger from the outside of his wrist to the end of the piece on the inside. A gold, unmistakable keyboard display spun into position. He pulled the sheet off and laid it flat between us. Some more coordinated taps later, an image of a green and red planet slowly rotated in the center of the top half, text scrolling around it.
"I said you need to know the Capital Planets," he said. "There are five: Mansheon, Plott, Copa, Bronud, and, of course, Zi'inra. This is Mansheon." He spun the planet to the location he wanted and zoomed in to a satellite view of a large city. A moment later, he zoomed out some, spun the planet, and zoomed in on another city. He did it a few more times, showing off the planet and giving the CliffNotes of it.
Mansheon was the central hub of...everything. The galactic militaries and Zega both centered there. Zega's headquarters is in a city called Kellan, the first large city he showed me. The military had training grounds spread across the planet. Galactic politics were often settled there. It was the entertainment capital, the fashion capital, the mass farming capital. Everything was on the planet, probably because it was the largest colonized planet in Sa'cra. It was almost twice the size of Zi'inra.
I wondered what that meant in relation to Earth. I had no way of actually knowing. Zi'inra felt normal to me, but I got used to it after spending I-don't-know-how-many months in the light gravity of the spaceship that was the Orphanage. According to both Atlyana and Tawyn, Zi'inra's a "slightly small" planet. But still, that meant nothing to me. What would they consider Earth? Small, medium, or large?
That didn't actually matter. All I knew was that meant I would be twice as heavy on Mansheon, if I got into Zega. I wasn't looking forward to that acclimation.
Also, it seemed to me that Zi'inra was the smaller, higher class version of Mansheon. There was politics, entertainment, farms, even Zega. Everyone just had more money and there were fewer deserts.
The next planet he showed me was somehow more important that Mansheon. Copa was the actual political head of Sa'cra. It was a small, humid planet and the birthplace of qicuqop-kind, ergo the birthplace of the galaxy. It was the only planet with a human population less than a couple hundred. In fact, the only humans that were allowed to live there had very accomplished political careers and special permission from the Copan Elite. Yes, that was the name of the political council the ruled the galaxy. The Copan Elite.
I asked Tawyn what he meant by "birthplace of the galaxy." He almost answered, but his face screwed up. That was apparently a complicated conversation. He said he'd explain another time.
Next was quite possibly the coolest planet on the list. It wasn't actually a planet. It was barely a planetoid. Plott was a mega-city built around an asteroid in Mansheon's solar system, built upon itself over and over until it was the size of a moon. The original asteroid was about the size of Zennae. The original purpose of Plott was that it was a testing ground for new and experimental technology, but it's long since moved past that. Now it's a bubble of a city crowded with average people, megacorps, and a rather large Central Park surrounded by any type of tourist attraction imaginable. It was considered a capital due to its history and stability. It was like a cyberpunk wet dream.
That group of mohawks I saw earlier were all from Plott. Mohawks were a big cultural thing to anyone from that society. Apparently, their hair is virtually unique to them as individuals as fingerprints are supposed to be.
The last planet was basically Hawaii, everyone's dream vacation. Bronud was an ocean world covered in islands, cays, and sandbars. He didn't explain why Bronud was considered a capital, just that it was laid back, warm and hot, grew sweet fruit, and was home to every water sport known to man. Comparing to Zennae again, the largest islands were roughly three times the size of the city.
"Speaking of fruit," Tawyn leaned back at the end of his spiel about the planet, "I am starving. Let's get food."
Grabbing the sheet, he got up and started for the stairs, gently tugging my elbow before wrapping the sheet around his cuff. He took the stairs two at a time.
"There are some others you should know about," he looked back at the door, giving it a mindless shove as he looked at me, "especially in Sa'cra's current state."
"Wait. First..." I pointed at his arm. "What are those cuff things called? I saw them everywhere today."
He gave me a quizzical face. "Balewez. Paper-sleeves. I gave... Yours is—"
"You are home!" Atlyana called from the front room. She murmured something, presumably to someone else, before calling again. "I didn't think to look downstairs! We have a guest!"
We stood in the hallway, waiting for the door to close on itself. The thing closed a lot slower than it opened.
"Oh, very nice," Tawyn responded, squeezing around the door. I followed. I saw his head cock and an eyebrow raise before I looked for our guest.
Of course it was Riche'e.
He was smiling a pleasant, charming smile he was no doubt practiced at. It was quite good.
"What are you doing here?" was the first thing I blurted.
His smile fell, then returned. "I came to remind Mistress Alise of the Zega function my parents are hosting tonight."
A very wide smirk snaked across Atlyana's face as she gave a very deliberate look to Tawyn. "As if I haven't been working for the past seven days with both of them." Her voice was dripping with sarcasm. She and Tawyn seemed to be communicating silently. His face mirrored hers.
"Yes, arlyxe," Riche'e chuckled. "I came to make sure Jiaal was not going to miss it."
"Oh, of course not!" Atlyana looked at me now. "That's why I had come home."
They were all looking at me now. This had suddenly become a kind of awkward I didn't understand. I clasped my hands in front of me, squeezing my fingers. Was I supposed to be saying something right now?
"Actually," Riche'e cleared his throat, "Jiaal, would you attend with me?"
Hell no. I squinted at him. "You call me a kuma all day and now you are asking me out?"
He pursed his lips, eyes widening. Atlyana and Tawyn were looking at him now. Her arms went akimbo and his crossed. Riche'e seemed to be forcing himself not to look at either of them.
"Second—second chance at a first impression?"
I squinted harder, weighing my options and his sincerity. Me, the shining example of high esteem that I was, I couldn't help but feel there had to be something else. He acted like I was the worst partner he could get this morning. Did he really want a do-over? He couldn't. There had to be something else here.
But this is also the kind of thing both my adoptive parents had been hoping I'd be reaching into on my own already. That I'd be making friends and finding interests. Maybe... I mean, I am competing to join a space academy. What could this hurt?
"Arlyxe," I nodded, giving the most pleasant smile I could muster, "I will go with you." I nodded toward Atlyana. "But only because I was going anyway."
He looked like I’d lifted a two ton weight from his shoulders. He clasped his together and brought them up in a begging thank-you gesture.
That ended, and he went back to his charming smile. “Thank you,” he cleared his throat, glancing to the hall. “Which room is yours?”
We were about to fall into a round of awkward silence before Mickey—Micje suggested food. He said he was starving, since he was still settling into his living quarters as of that morning. His shuttle from Glau arrived so late the night before, he just passed out on the cheap bed as soon as he found the room.
I agreed because it got us moving on to something else...and I wanted to see what a public cafeteria was like on Zi'inra. And I assume Riche'e agreed just because it got us moving on to something else. I'd seen the parties he goes to; food that wasn't served on fancy plates smaller than my hand didn't seem like something that would excite him.
The mess hall—or floor, rather—was a massive buffet style area with various sized tables spread out. Flimsy partitions and half-walls lined blocks of three tables by three around the perimeter of the hall, with most of the larger tables in the center. Some two person tables lined the walls. Brown and white made up the bulk of everything, with orange, yellow, and green accents everywhere. The white noise of people talking and eating was muted, like a quietly noisy library. I wondered if it was the combination of carpet and walls or if galactic society just had a collective respect for food time and eating areas. The second option amused me more, so that's what I stuck with.
And it seemed I was right about Riche'e. Micje lead us into the hall, Riche'e went straight for a small table, sat down, and rubbed the edge of the red mark that had developed on the corner of his forehead.
I kept following Micje as he made his way to a buffet counter. He stopped at the end of it and slowly ran a hand through his shaggy hair. He was trying to look nonchalant when he turned and peeked over his arm at the tables, at Riche'e.
"I think I just lost my chance at Zega," he said quietly when he noticed me beside him. "I'm going to be dismissed." He nodded to himself.
I shook my head.
He nodded again with more force and dropped his hand. "I'm reckless! No self-control. Imagine if that was a real situation? Could've been deadly!" He cursed under his breath. "I turned down a gaming contract for this. I was so... And what happens before the day has started? I injure someone for not paying attention."
I pursed my lips; my eyebrows pulled together.
"He is not injured, just bruised," I said. "The fact you say those things shows you are not actually..." I searched for the Copan word for stupid. "You're not kuma." That wasn't it, but I was pretty sure kuma was close. It meant something like moron. "If that ball was something bad and deadly like some real situation, would you think that tossing it around would be something you would do? I do not think you would be throwing it at your people. I would not."
"True, I guess." He smiled and turned back to the counter, grabbing a metal bowl. His head swung right and left as he got a good look at everything.
"And have we started the actual test yet? I think you are safe still." That's what I was hoping for myself, at least.
"Either way, I hope they see it how you said." He settled on a pot of what looked like runny, gray oatmeal and started ladling to himself. Out of all the foods—most of which were colorful, if strangely shaped—he went for...that.
"No one saw, maybe. Do not worry."
"Someone always sees," he shook his head. He looked up and quickly looked around, then pointed a space in the air before he went back to ladling. I didn't see it at first, trying to find whatever it was on the wall he showed me, but then there was a slight wave in the air. The wave bobbed and drifted and I was able to make out a sphere.
"What is that?" It seemed like it was an invisible camera, which I hoped it wasn't.
"What do you mean what is that?" His eyebrows furrowed at me.
"Is that how they watch us?"
"Obviously."
And I had to get this question out of the way: "Those are not everywhere, are they?"
"Yes."
"No, I am saying...everywhere. Everywhere?"
"Eh..." He watched me for a moment. "Yes." He chuckled and shook his head. "Public safety. Yes, they are everywhere."
Okay, great, so the galaxy's version of CCTV was invisible floating balls that could follow you around? And people back home thought cameras on street corners were creepy.
I couldn't watch Micje prepare the bowl anymore as he moved on to sprinkling some powder from a tiny jar into it. (A dried version of the Essence of Pure Flavor, I hope.) I grabbed a purple fruit and spun on a heel, making for the table Riche'e went to.
It was a little disappointing there were no cookies stacked somewhere on the counter, as all good free buffets have, but the fruit would do. I assumed it was a fruit. It looked like a kiwano melon, just not orange, and had a sweet smell that made it a perfect candidate for a dollar store shampoo. I hoped the taste test was as interesting once I figured out how to open and eat it.
"Someone always sees," Micje mumbled. Some utensils jangled and his feet scraped on the floor in a seeming hurry to not get left alone.
Maybe we should have started a bet. Who would get kicked out for their fault first? Me for my lack of basic skills or him for his oopsie? Only time would tell.
"How is your head?" I asked Riche'e when I sat across from him. The event may have been satisfying but I felt bad for laughing.
Riche'e glanced up, but hardly, giving a vague shrug, a shake of his head, and a barely intelligible mumble. So I guessed that meant it was fine—or he was acting like a cat that didn't want to draw any more attention to the fact it got hurt. He was holding stiff and reading a wall of text on a clear, flexible sheet, a series of images scrolling up on the side it. They looked like ships. Or maybe shuttles. Jets?
"Where did that come from?" I looked around to the other tables to see if they had some laying around like leaflets left at a café, but I only saw a few other folks with them in hand. Riche'e hadn't been holding that before.
Both Micje and him moved at the same time. Micje, who'd only just sat and picked up his spoon, put his spoon down and shoved up his sleeve to reveal a cuff bracelet with that same type of sheet wrapped around it and his forearm. As the light hit it, a few symbols blinked on the sheet.
Riche'e rolled up his sleeve, but took his time doing so so the fabric would stay folded. He took his sheet and wrapped it, the edge guiding itself around as if it were magnetized. Once the edge of the sheet was touching most of the cuff, the text shrunk to a small box on his inner forearm. He held it up to model a moment before pulling the sheet off to go back to reading.
"You don't have one?" Micje asked, finally getting to dig into his mush.
"No... I am a little out of the circle." I had no sleeves to hide my arms, so I just held up my bare wrists. I felt 'out of the loop' was a good vague way to explain it.
"You should. With these, I don't know why anyone sticks to the big blocks."
I snorted. "Where I come from, those big blocks are state of the art."
Riche'e sighed as I said that. (I said it in English. I didn't know the Copan phrase for cutting edge!) His cheeks rippled as he clenched his jaw. His drifted up from the text. He laid the sheet on the table.
"Listen, as I was saying before..."
I bit my top lip as hard as I could bear and pushed myself against the back of my chair.
"Earth isn't an real planet. The Orphanage also searched for planets called Terra, Erde, and Diqiu—several others—and they don't exist either." He started twisting his cuff around his wrist. "They're just stories that are passed around among the groups of rudkjurt as they are discovered until they believe them because it's easier to believe than your past. It's a replacement for what you don't know." He stopped playing with his cuff. "And you shouldn't be here try to start a career based on it. You will be disappointed, and you won't make it far."
Micje looked up at soon as Riche'e said the magic word, but waited until he was finished. "You're a rudkjurt?" So much for that vague explanation and no one else finding out.
I stayed quiet, glaring at Riche'e. I didn't like the way he said to try. I didn't like anything he said. Where did he get off? He thought he was an expert because he read a couple of articles on the space internet?
"Screw you." I leaned forward, squeezing my not-kiwano. "You have only read things. I have true experience with the Orphanage. I am not going to try to start a career based on it. I will. I am going to pass our test for Zega. And he"—I pointed at Micje—"is going to pass our test for Zega. And I am going to prove that Earth exists. And if—if you pass the test, you will be right next to me when I do so I can see your face."
That was strong. I didn't know what I was supposed to be reading on Riche'e's face, but he didn't say anything. His eyebrows simply raised and twisted and lowered. I swallowed. I knew how stupid everything I just said was, but I held his gaze. Hopefully the panic wasn't written all over my face.
This was going to be an embarrassing week. I saw it right away. Tomorrow, the day after, the day after that, I was going to be tapped on the shoulder, discreetly asked to leave the premises, and Riche'e was going to give me the classic told-you-so.
So, great, I had to learn how to read, function, speak big Copan words, and not get kicked out in less than seven days. I should get a head start on space maps and real astronomy in the case I actually lived up to my word. The very unlikely case.
I wondered what whoever was watching on the invisible cameras was thinking.
I couldn't hold the stare-off any longer. He won this round. I dropped my head and lifted the fruit. "How do I eat this?"
