Under Different Stars

by Amy A. Bartol

  “Yeah?” I ask, watching a beautiful brown and white spix rise up on its hind legs, pawing the air when it sees us moving past the herd.

  “Do you have a spix?”

  “No,” Wayra smiles. “Trey’s family has some. I’ve ridden with him at his family home.”

  Not wanting to hear anything about Trey or his stupid family who know all about stupid flowers and riding spixes, I say, “It’s kind of sad to think that some people would want to tame something that is meant to be wild. Maybe there ought to be a law against it.”

  Looking up, I see Trey try to suppress his grin. “You only say that because you’re the wild thing we’ve been sent to tame.”

  “Like you could tame me,” I scoff, and Wayra laughs.

  “She’s a fire woman,” Wayra says, grinning at me.

  “That she is,” Trey mutters. I ignore them because I’m not sure if I was just complimented or insulted.

  An agitated nicker from a spix makes Trey’s head snap up. He scans the area behind us just as the spixes begin surging forward, looking wild and deadly as their hooves rattle the ground like thunder. But that’s not half as frightening as the roar that tears the very air around me.

  In the next moment, my elbow is seized by Trey. He pulls me forcefully in his direction, making me veer out of the path of the spixes as they pour around us, screaming like wildly fleeing people from a burning building. He positions me in front of him and urges me to run with his hand on my back toward a shallow ravine. When we reach it, Trey pushes me down into it, covering me with his body. Turning my face as a louder roar sounds, a huge, gold and gray-striped feline pounces on a spix a few feet from us, tearing the spix’s neck open and shaking it wildly with its saber-toothed jaws.

  I struggle to get Trey off of me so that I can run. “Don’t move,” Trey breathes in my ear. I still as a low, long growl sounds behind us. A second cat, the size of a SUV, slinks nearer to the one eating the spix.

  “They’re going to fight over their dinner. When they do, we’re going to get up and run to the trees to your left,” Trey instructs me in a calm tone.

  “Can’t you just shoot them?” I ask, looking desperately at the recurve on the ground near us.

  “No,” he says grimly. “I can’t kill saers with a recurve. Their pelts are too thick.”

  “You stupid boy scout!” I hiss at him in a low whisper. “You come out here with saers and bring a cap gun? You should break the rules just once, Trey. You might enjoy it!”

  “You can give me your opinion if we make it to those trees. Now, let’s move!” he says, hauling me up with an arm around my waist and pushing me to run ahead of him in the direction of the trees. Loud snarling sounds come from behind us as my heart drums in my ears. Stumbling, Trey’s arm grasps my waist again, helping me regain my balance as we continue to retreat.

  Making it to the trees, Trey pulls me behind a rock. Kneeling we both pant, turning to see if we’re being pursued. “They didn’t…notice us,” Trey says, breathing hard next to me, sounding surprised.

  “You sound like...you didn’t think…we’d make it,” I pant, turning toward him, feeling adrenaline coursing through me.

  “I didn’t,” he admits, clutching me to his chest and hugging me tight. Kissing my hair near my temple he whispers against it, “You’re so brave.”

  “I’m not brave,” I turn to look at him. “I’m just going to hang on long enough to kill you.”

  “Is that right?” he asks, grinning in amusement.

  “Yes, and that’s the third time you’ve tried to kill me,” I push against his chest as anger erupts in me. His grin falters as his eyebrows come together.

  “Third time I’ve…what are you ranting about?” he asks, looking almost offended, while holding me away from his chest so he can peer down at me.

  I hold up one finger. “First, you nearly drowned me!” Another finger joins the first. “AND THEN you made me run until I about died of heat stroke!” A third finger completes the trio. “AND THEN—THEN, you take me across a field TEEMING with SAERS just WAITING to eat us!” I rant at him, shaking in the aftermath of nearly being a meal for vicious saber-toothed tigers.

  Trey’s grin is totally gone now as his frown deepens. “I didn’t try to drown you, I was the one who had to swim with your limp body in my arms and pound on your chest to get you to breathe,” he counters, looking sullen. “And I didn’t make you run, I stopped you when I noticed how red you were getting. And it was either take our chances with the saers by moving at night or let us all fall prey to the Alameeda…it was a calculated risk, one that has paid off so far,” he says in a softer tone.

  “So far? SO FAR? TREY!” I yell at him. “What are our chances of actually making it to Rafe?” I ask, still breathing hard.

  “With you, better than I thought. You keep up and you follow orders fairly well—when you choose to—and you’re smart—when you’re not trying to kill yourself with flowers and cranium-boring insects,” he adds sarcastically.

  “You thought that I was trying to kill myself with a flower?”

  “What was I supposed to think? Znous are known to be swarming with turbine worms and you put it next to your ear…I thought you had become suicidal.”

  “Trey, I thought that the Znou was beautiful and I wanted to keep it,” I say, explaining myself to him. “I wasn’t trying to kill myself. If I get suicidal, you’ll know ‘cuz I’ll be dead. The only thing I’m feeling right now is HOMICIDAL, so watch your back.”

  Trey’s smile comes back all of a sudden, like my anger toward him is amusing. “Why is it that you’re only angry with me?” Trey asks, getting to his feet.

  “What?” I ask sullenly.

  “You aren’t angry with Jax or Wayra…just me.” He extends his hand to help me up.

  Ignoring it, I get to my feet unassisted, dusting dried grass off of me. “Because you’re the one who’s driving this mission. And maybe they’re more likable.” Take that, egomaniac, I think to myself, watching him stiffen as he picks up his gear.

  “We need to move if we plan to locate your likable Cavars,” Trey replies, looking stern.

  “They’re not mine. I plan on giving you all back when we get to Rafe.” I follow him as he weaves a path through the trees.

  “Why? We can help you—”

  “Yeah!” I scoff. “You’ve helped enough. Any more help from you guys and I’ll be dead.”

  “If it was not for us, you’d be with Kyon now and you would be…” Trey doesn’t finish.

  “I’d be what?”

  “Their prisoner,” he says softly.

  “Oh, as opposed to your prisoner,” I say sarcastically. “I’m starting to think there isn’t a very big difference.”

  “It is a big difference!” Trey replies, and he believes what he’s telling me.

  “Really? Why?”

  “Because, they’d consider you a priestess. You’d never have a life of your own. Every decision will be made on your behalf, without your input. You’d be taken care of—worshipped almost, but never free—never able to live as you choose. You’d be their property. If they want to align with a family or a house, they can barter your services, or even you, to gain it.”

  “You mean, they’d treat me like chattel—a possession?” I ask, feeling ill.

  “Precisely.”

  “What kind of services would they have me perform?”

  “Depends on what you can do—what gifts you possess,” he replies. “They’re secretive about their priestesses, but word leaks out. It’s said that some can move things with their minds…”

  “Like telepathy?”

  “Yes,” he affirms, “and some are persuasive. They can make you believe any lie.”

  “Handy,” I say, shivering.

  “And some can see what the enemy is planning,” he murmurs, unconsciously flexing his hand that was reattached. “A strategic edge.”

  “How do you combat something like that?”

  “Yo
u make your plans and then, at the last second, you do something random,” he says, looking grim. “Sometimes it works.”

  Paling, my head feels like it’s spinning. “So they were bitter when my mother left their little party?”

  “They threatened war,” he replies. “I remember it…it was all anyone spoke of for a while.”

  “So my parents left because they were afraid of causing a war?”

  “Maybe…or maybe they wanted to protect something far more important to them.”

  “What?” I ask, not getting it.

  “You…the Alameeda didn’t know about you and maybe your parents wanted to keep it that way. They could’ve stayed on Ethar—in Rafe. We don’t turn over our citizens to anyone, not even the Alameeda, not even if they threatened the peace we had enjoyed for more than thirty years.”

  “How did you know about me—where to find me?” Goose bumps rise on my arm and I rub them.

  “I was sent—I’m special Cavar—elite branch. We were told of an important mission to Earth and I volunteered.”

  “So, they knew about me—your superiors?”

  Trey frowns. “You were not unexpected, if that’s what you’re asking. No one named you, but offspring was discussed,” he admits, still frowning.

  “What?”

  “I felt then that they anticipated a child…that offspring was a…certainty. I was surprised when Jax was assigned to the mission.”

  “He wouldn’t normally come?”

  “Not to remand prisoners. It’s like you were a special case from the start.”

  I shake my head. “I’m so dead,” I whisper, feeling like I’m going to hyperventilate. Stopping in my tracks, I lean against a tree. “Trey, you have to take me back. I can’t…I don’t know how to survive here. You’re talking about politics on a scale that I can’t navigate. This isn’t dodging DSS or how bad someone will hurt me in some foster care hell. This is—this is about whether or not I can tell if the next person I meet is going to want to kill me for what I can or cannot do or what I might or might not know or how I can influence…” My eyes fill up with tears. I squeeze my hands into fists, trying to force them back down.

  Trey faces me. “Kricket,” he says my name in a soothing tone. “I can’t take you back…they’ll find you on Earth. You can’t hide anymore…it would be like trying to dodge raindrops. You believe me, don’t you?”

  Wiping my cheek with my fist as a tear slides down it, I say ironically, “Of course I believe you. I’m a priestess. I know when you’re lying. It’s my special gift.” My throat aches from trying to stop my tears.

  His eyes go wide. “You’d know if I was lying?”

  “Yes,” I admit wearily, feeling completely depleted.

  Trey’s jaw tenses. “We keep that a secret just between you and me. Promise,” Trey says adamantly, putting his hand on my hair and stroking it gently.

  “Who am I gonna tell?”

  “Promise,” he says again. His hand moves to my cheek. He uses his thumb to wipe away a tear.

  “Sure, I promise,” I agree, feeling a surge of desire at his touch. I resist the urge to rest my cheek against his chest.

  His thumb rubs my cheek again, lingering there before his hand drops from me. “We need to get you to Rafe. You’re our citizen. We’ll protect you,” he says. “You know I’m not lying.”

  “You may not be lying, but you could be totally naïve, Trey.”

  His eyes soften. “So, you aren’t infallible?” he asks with a smile in his tone.

  “You wouldn’t want to play poker against me, I’d know when you’re bluffing.”

  “What’s poker?”

  “A card game,” I reply, looking up at him. His hand brushes my hair again, tucking it behind my ear.

  “Diverting?” He takes my hand in his.

  “Lucrative…I can earn a stack doing it. I just can’t let anyone suspect that I’m playing them, not the cards,” I explain, allowing him to lead me as we begin to walk again.

  “That sounds dangerous,” he says.

  “Depends on who gets played.”

  “Can you predict the outcome? What card will be laid next?” he asks, stepping over rocks and helping me traverse them.

  “I don’t know…” I answer, thinking.

  “You’re young…I wonder what else you’ll be able to do,” he says offhandedly.

  “You think there will be more?” I feel my heart race.

  “I wouldn’t bet against it,” he answers, but seeing me drop my chin in fear, he quickly changes the subject. “We need to keep moving. Jax and Wayra will scout the territory west, looking to pick up our trail. They’re probably ahead of us now, but when they don’t find our trail, they’ll double back.”

  Moving quietly together, Trey and I make it to a precipice where uneven, moss-covered limestone overlooks a spectacular view of a valley below. As we near the edge of the crag, my breath catches in my throat as decaying skyscrapers appear below us. Hollow frames with crushed and fallen-in rooflines scatter the horizon like some ancient civilization long abandoned.

  “What’s this?” I ask, feeling goose bumps rising on my arms.

  “Amster. Some people refer to it now as the ‘Amster Rushes,’ because the ruins look like the stems of plants growing in a wetland. It was a great city a century ago,” he says.

  “Looks like it has hit a recession,” I reply, rubbing my arm with my hand.

  “Its demise was not brought on by any economic force…it was a pandemic that destroyed this city…and just about every other city in Ethar a thousand years ago.”

  “A plague?” I repeat, as a shiver runs through me, while following him along the rocky path.

  “Yes, things changed here very quickly. It’s reported that the virus, named ‘Black Math,’ developed into a pandemic in less than two rotations. Incubation of the disease was rapid—less than a rotation from contracting it until it annihilates the person’s vital organs.”

  “How many people did it kill?” I ask, horrified.

  “Billions. I don’t know the exact death toll, but it nearly wiped out the entire population.”

  My jaw hangs open for a moment. “It almost killed everyone?”

  Trey nods sadly. “We have a cure for it now and we have laws.”

  “Laws?” I ask, not knowing what laws will do to stop a pandemic.

  “Yes. We strive to maintain a balance on Ethar now. We try to control ourselves. We don’t pollute the environment which will cause microorganisms to mutate and wipe us out.”

  “You think something like that can be controlled through environmental precautions?”

  “It’s a start,” he replies. “In the wake of the pandemic, the five houses of Ethar developed from the survivors.”

  “What are the names of the five houses?” I see light dawning on the horizon and shining on the rusty skeletons of the Amster Rushes.

  “Rafe, Alameeda, Comantre, Peney, and Wurthem,” he states, pulling his night-vision glasses from his face.

  “Who’s the most powerful?” I ask, seeing him grin. I pull my glasses off as well, handing them back to Trey who pauses to put them in his bag.

  “You have to ask?”

  “I mean, besides us?” I roll my eyes. He pauses, looking at me and taking my hand again.

  His smile deepens. “Finally,” Trey mutters.

  “Hmm?” I ask, confused as he squeezes my hand.

  “You said, ‘us,’” Trey replies, his eyes softening in the corners.

  “I did?” I stiffen. “Well, I meant to say, ‘besides Rafe.’”

  “But you said ‘us’ instead,” he replies triumphantly, causing a small smile to twist my lips. We begin walking again while his smile only broadens.

  “Fine,” I mutter, “besides us.”

  “Alameeda is as large as us and their technology is keeping pace with ours. The other houses are smaller. They’re all powerful in their own ways, though.”

  “So, our ally is Comantre.
Who aligns with Alameeda?”

  Trey’s eyebrows rise. “You don’t act your age. You ask questions that I’d expect from someone older than you.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “Really? Don’t be too awed by the profundity of my mind. I just find it important to know where everyone stands. I hate stepping on land mines. It’s messy.”

  “The Alameeda are aligned with the Wurthem Clan,” he replies, looking serious. “Making them the largest in numbers.”

  “What about Peney?”

  “They like to remain neutral.”

  “Ahh, they’re Switzerland,” I muse. “You said that together, Alameeda and Wurthem are the largest? How large?” I wonder, trying to gauge if we’re talking a population like China or something like the US.

  “Together, they have a population a little smaller than Chicago,” Trey replies, and then he pauses when I stop walking beside him.

  “What?” I breathe.

  “Alameeda has almost a million citizens—Wurthem is a couple of hundred thousand short of that. They’re big, but…”

  “Trey…if they’re the biggest, then that means there are less than five million people on Ethar,” I breathe. “That’s…”

  “Black Math,” he replies grimly. “Now you see why it’s important that we don’t allow humans to become aware that we exist? We have more advanced technology than humans, but they’d have sheer numbers.”

  “And your defense department—Skye—doesn’t like those odds?”

  “No, especially not when coupled with Alameeda’s recent aggression. We don’t need problems with humans, too.”

  “Alameeda is causing trouble?”

  “The Alameeda Brotherhood is no longer adhering to our global treaties and laws. You just witnessed their airspace violations first hand.”

  So...the Brotherhood is like Skye?”

  “Not exactly. Rafe divides power mainly between Skye and our monarch, which is the Regent. That’s not the case with the Brotherhood; they’re the ruling faction. Period. There are at any one time around twenty males from the most powerful Alameeda families who comprise the Brotherhood.

  “Just males?” I ask, wrinkling my nose when Trey nods. “I’m annoyed already.”