by Elle Scott
Contents
Title
EARTH
STARS
EARTH II
STARS II
EARTH III
STARS III
EARTH IV
STARS IV
EARTH V
STARS V
EARTH VI
STARS VI
EARTH VII
The first time I saw him, I had chains around my feet and hands. He was the only one who looked at me as though I mattered.
My family and I were lined up like criminals. Opposite us, Earth’s warriors were dressed in black as they held a dozen rifles in our direction. Their stance was straight like an arrow, not a single limb out of place. Their gaze didn’t waver — staring through us as though we were invisible, as though we had no souls. I scanned their faces, silently begging each one to have mercy.
But none of them dared, except for him. Even through my tear-clouded vision, his blue eyes shone like a lighthouse in a storm. He wasn’t like the others, he was looking directly at me with wide eyes, the edges of them slightly hooded. He felt sorry for me.
Upon their command, we were forced into a large cave.
“Arylia, just do what they say,” my mother hissed behind me. I don’t know what she expected me to do, but resisting them was the last thing on my mind.
The inside of the cave was expansive, rough stone for walls and ceilings, with polished rocks under our feet. I’d seen pictures of mining caves, but I wasn’t sure this was one. With fluorescent lights above us, it looked like it was for living, not mining.
We were taken through an archway that opened into a hallway; small caverns of about three square meters lined each side. They called us names like “Repulsive” and “Aliens”, threw us into separate caverns, and closed us in with vertical steel bars.
The boy with sad blue eyes took a little longer to leave than the others. He lingered outside my cell, his hand clenching the bars so tight his knuckles turned white. My mind raced. This one was different. He might be able to make sense of all this. Together, we could let the others see it was all one big mistake.
“Hello,” I said. So much for peace pacts, all I could manage was a hello.
He sucked air fast into his lungs, his eyes finding the floor. He looked up again, mouth open as though he might say something. I stepped forward, awaiting his reply, but he let go of the bar and left.
“I’m not a repulsive alien,” I called after him.
I could hear my mother shushing me from the next cavern.
It was the truth though. We were homo sapiens, just like them. Except, from a different planet.
We arrived by Trans-Galactic Ship, a life-time’s journey across the Universe, with the intention to integrate with the Earthlings. We were to live peacefully in this new world with fertile soil, running water and clean air. We just wanted to survive.
But like this? Was surviving worth this?
Almost one year earlier
“Attention! Observation deck is now open for Mars viewing,” my mother’s voice crackled through the speaker on the roof of my room.
I hit the button so hard my palm stung. The door to my quarters began opening. As soon as the gap was large enough for my body to fit, I slid through. My legs couldn’t move fast enough.
I tore down the wide corridor, using momentum to slide around every corner. I wasn’t worried about the possibility of running into someone else — it was always empty this time of day. Everyone else had their own assignments and I was the only teen — in fact, the only child — on the ship. The Stars I was our ship’s title, the first of three head ships in our fleet.
It was a bit of a taboo topic, a head ship having a child occupy it. That sort of thing was meant to remain on the breeding ships at the back of fleet. I was transported there for school, visiting my parents every month for a few days, longer during extended breaks, but since graduation, and considering we were close to Earth, I was to remain with my parents. I would have rather stayed with my friends. The perks of being the daughter of the Captain, I guess.
I veered right at the end of the sleeping quarters and took a short-cut through the vegetation area. My fingers grazed over the growing pumpkins as I ran past. I couldn’t wait to see this on Earth — a real garden, without the stark white walls and heat lamps.
“Arylia!” my mother’s voice said through the speaker. “No running!”
A camera located at the exit of the vegetation area followed me as I sped out into the hallway. I smiled to myself and waved over my shoulder, still running.
Father calls me a free-spirit.
Mother calls me trouble.
With a quick turn to the left, the Observatory’s inviting dome window teased me from twenty meters away. I picked up speed.
I passed the Trans-portal room; a room I’d been in countless times, transporting back and forth to the tail ships. The silver pillar in the middle of the glass-walled room shone brightly in my peripheral vision. I blinked and began to slow down.
Entering the dome was almost a sacred experience for me. I made sure I had composed myself before stepping onto its glass floor, my bare feet honoring the room with a delicate step. A cushioned seat hugged the edge of the window in a semi-circle.
I could see the whole fleet behind us from there. I tried to guess which of the tail ones belonged to my school. I hadn’t been back there for months, not since graduation on my sixteenth birthday. It was where my whole generation prepared for Earth; where we learned their predominant language, their sayings, and way of living. Integration was going to be seamless. We even looked like them, the same in so many ways: our external features, organs and immune systems are identical. If you lined us Soliuns next to Earthlings, at first glance you couldn’t tell us apart, but at longer inspection you’d find our skin, hair, and eye color have a much more varied spectrum. My skin has a peachy undertone. My eyes are pale brown, and in certain lights they give off a yellow-orange hue, the same as my hair. And, like all my people, my pupils are dark silver — what Earthlings would call gunmetal gray.
I activated the Observatory’s command control and typed in the codes to seal the door and extend the arm. A clank and hissing noise secured the dome as the hydraulics clasped into place. The Observatory made a single jolt and started moving away from the ship. I knelt on the seat at the end of the dome and faced the front of the ship, daring not to blink, afraid to miss any moment. The arm slowly moved me out as a large planet came into view.
Red, like soil dipped in paint.
Mars.
That wasn’t what I was there to see, though. I moved closer, my breath fogging the glass, as though that extra inch would have made me see it sooner.
The observation arm jolted to a stop. I squinted my eyes, staring at the space beyond Mars.
Where is it?
I ran to the command control.
Arm at 95% extension.
I pressed a button. The dome clunked and began moving again.
96%… 97%…
I ran back to the end of the dome, pressing my palms against the window.
There it was. Earth. A tiny dot that shone brighter than the other stars. Like a seedling destined to grow into a Redwood.
Full of endless possibilities.
I woke up on hard ground, stale air lingering around me. It reminded me of the time the humidifier on my school ship, The Stars LXIV, was faulty. Thick humid oxygen caused damp spots to show up all over the walls. It smelled… putrid.
I sat up and noticed a tray of food resting on a small slot between the bars of my cell. With my stomach rumbling, I crawled over to get a better look. It looked a little like potato mash, but sloppier and darker.
/> I sniffed it and recoiled. What happened to Earth having soil prime enough for vegetable growth?
On the opposite side of the hallway, in his own cell, was the Co-Captain of our ship, Klive. He pinched the food between two fingers and slowly dropped it on his tongue.
Footsteps echoed from the right. Klive leaned forward, almost touching the bars with his face, to see better. A figure appeared and stood in front of him. I left the tray and shuffled to the back of the cavern cell.
“Thank you,” I heard Klive say.
The figure turned and blue eyes pierced through me. He stepped forward and knelt at my tray, glanced over his shoulder from where he came, then turned back to my food. He placed some bread on the side, careful not to touch the slop, and looked up at me. His eyes were still sad, but one side of his mouth tilted upwards.
He soon left and I moved closer to inspect what he’d given me. A roll, with soft doughy bread, fresh lettuce, juicy tomato, and stinky cheese inside.
Every day, one soldier delivered the tray with watery old potatoes, and five minutes later, the blue-eyed boy came with salad rolls for each of us. On the fourth day, after the tray was left, I ran to the bars and sat for five minutes, waiting.
Right on time, the boy came. After he gave a roll to Klive, he turned to me. When he saw me by the bars, his lop-sided smile grew bigger.
He knelt in front of me.
“Thank you,” I said, before he even handed over the roll.
“You’re welcome,” he whispered.
He reached through the bars, my fingers accidentally grazing his thumb as I took the roll from him. His eyes twitched slightly. My heart skipped, blood rushing to my cheeks. To avoid embarrassment, I sank my teeth into the roll, closing my eyes as the savory flavor lit up my mouth. The repeat meal somehow tasted better every day.
When I opened my eyes again, he was looking at me, his gaze dancing around my face as though I amused him.
I swallowed, then asked, “What’s your moniker?”
He snapped out of his trance and frowned in confusion. “My what?’”
“Oh, wait… your name.”
“Nichols,” he said, before adding, “Kyson Nichols.”
“Is your father’s name Ky?” I asked, before taking another bite.
His eyes crinkled at the sides as his hand darted to his mouth, concealing a smile. Maybe I didn’t have Earth’s linguistics perfected after all.
“What?”
“My father’s name is Adam, but you can call me, Ky if you like. What’s your name?” he asked.
“Arylia, the thirty-seventh of her name,” I stated proudly.
“Arylia,” he repeated.
“Kyson… Ky,” I said, testing out how his name felt in my mouth. “What’s going to happen to us?”
His smile waned. “I don’t—”
A clatter echoed through the cavern. Kyson’s head spun to the right so fast I thought his neck might snap.
“Hey, Nichols, ya jerk! Stop fraternizing with the enemy and get your ass to laundry duty.”
He jumped to his feet and, without looking back at me, left.
A few days earlier
I sat on a seat at the end of the Observation deck, its arm stretched as far as it could go. This time, I wasn’t alone, like normal. My father and a few other residents of The Stars I stood behind me in a huddle, all of us staring out the dome window in anticipation.
Earth was larger than I had even imagined. Its colors were vivid: deep blues, lush dark greens, and hints of yellow with swirls of white clouds dispersed throughout. A blue, transparent glow circled the sphere’s outer layer.
My heart raced. This was it, this was the moment our life-long travels had led to.
My father broke away from the others and sat down next to me. “Hey Ary,” he said with a glint in his eyes.
I half expected him to put his arm around me like I’d seen other dads do on the breeding ships, but he just sat there looking straight ahead, his face stoic.
“I can’t imagine how you must be feeling,” I said.
He didn’t look at me, but gave a hint of a smile in reply. Surely it must have meant something to him, seeing a planet so fruitful and alive. Way back, before we were hundreds of ships cruising the galaxies, our home was dying. He was my age when he fled Soli, my ancestor’s planet. I didn’t think I would ever truly know the heartache he felt leaving it.
Our race was one of survival. My parents and their parents knew about Earth, how their DNA was identical to ours, how their planet was like ours from thousands of years ago. It was the only option. My Grandfather was designated Captain of The Stars I, my mother was his successor, and I arrived somewhere in the middle of it all.
I was born on a planet called Orbum. It was a neighbor to Soli, like Mars was to Earth. Barren and devoid of substantial water, the atmosphere was too thin to sustain us for long. We were there when we made a pact with Earth for peaceful integration. Apparently, my people celebrated as though dancing was just invented. I was too young to remember, though, and had no memory of being outside, ever. All I can remember was titanium walls, fake gardens and humidified air.
Although I never lived on Soli, or remembered a life outside the ships, I was proud to be with my father for that moment.
As we approached, a light gleamed from the outer layer of Earth. It was so bright I had to momentarily close my eyes. Warmth hit my face like a welcoming gift, a door opening to a world we could have only ever dreamed of. And then, we moved forward.
The familiar noise of the tray being placed down made me sit up. I rushed to the bars and waited. When I heard footsteps, I pressed my face against the bars in time to see Kyson hold a roll for the person in the cell beside me. A hand with long slender fingers took it from him — my mother!
I caught Kyson’s eye as he moved towards Klive. He smiled, turned and passed the last roll to me.
My mouth watered at the smell of the fresh salad. I resisted the urge to chow it down. For some reason, I wanted to be more civilized in front of him.
“The lady in the cell beside me, that’s my mother. Is she okay?”
He nodded. “If you call this okay,” he said, motioning around.
I wondered if he’d just made a joke.
“My father, he has eye-length hair the same color as mine, yellow eyes…”
Kyson stepped closer to my bars. “He’s okay, too.”
I sighed and bit into my lunch.
He watched me for a moment, his lips pressed together. He opened his mouth slightly, then closed it again, as though he wanted to say something but decided not to.
“Well… enjoy,’ he said eventually, and turned to leave.
“Wait!” I cried, a small speck of tomato flying out my mouth.
He stopped immediately, and returned to his spot in front of me, eyes wide, waiting.
“Aren’t you young to be soldier?” I asked.
“I’m eighteen,” he said, shrugging.
“That’s still young,” I stated. “We don’t approve of child soldiers.”
“Eighteen is barely a child.” He smiled sideways, amused. “How old are you?”
“Seventeen, just.”
He nodded. Then stepped even closer, a few inches from the bars that separated us. He was tense, stiff shoulders rising on each of his sharp breaths.
I clutched a bar and brought my face to rest on its coldness.
“Can I ask you a question?” As he spoke I could feel his warm breath on my forehead.
“Yes.”
He cleared his throat before saying, “You don’t look like what I thought you would.”
“Is that a question?” I asked, worried I missed a vital lesson in English class.
“No.”
I smiled, half-relieved and half-concerned. “Does it matter what we look like? We’re the same, on the inside, you know. We are all made of stars.”
His shoulders lowered as he grabbed the bar right under my own hand. “Why are you he
re? Why did you come here?”
“For integration, don’t you already know that?”
He looked confused.
“Around twenty or so years ago we talked with your leader, they promised that we were safe to come.”
His eyes flitted between mine. “We’ve never communicated with you. I mean, we saw you coming towards us for years, that’s why we put the shield up…”
My stomach sank. “That doesn’t make sense. We made a deal. There was a peace pact.”
Kyson’s sad eyes returned. “There was never a pact.”
What did that mean for us? Did my mother know there was no pact? Had we doomed our whole species by coming here?
No, he had to be mistaken.
“Maybe the pact is top secret, and you’re too low ranking to know.”
His head dropped.
“We just want to survive,” I said, trying to hold back the tears.
He looked up, his fingers tightening on the bar. “I’m so sorry that you’re in here.”
Then, he left.
The next day, after the food tray came, I waited for him.
He never came.
I picked at the potato but couldn’t eat it.
About an hour later, footsteps marched down the middle of the cavern cells.
There he is! I thought, standing up.
But it wasn’t Kyson. It was someone else. She walked fast, her chin lifted, her shoulders rounded back. Her uniform was different to the other soldiers. It had five star badges in a circle on her chest, and she held a hat under her armpit. She walked straight past my cell and opened the door at the end of the cell block.
My mother cried out. I ran to the bars and watched two soldiers as they dragged her out of her cell. As they passed me, I could see their hands clutching tightly around her wrists. One of them even hooked his hand around her waist, digging his fingers into her ribs.
“What are you doing? Where are you taking her?” I screamed, but my voice landed on deaf ears and cold hearts.
They threw her through the door where the first woman went, then turned back for Klive. More footsteps raced down towards us. As the new face came into view, I gasped.