And All the Stars

by Andrea K Höst

  I'm going to push," he said, barely audible. "You will react. But I am glad, Madeleine. Thank you for the courage to do this."

  Turning sharply, Madeleine drew breath to speak, and let it out in a gasp as a hammer-blow of emotion struck her. Grim determination. Fear. Fury. And wound through it all a fine, cutting thread of concern.

  "S-stop!" This was not like the Core's assault. She was not drunk, defenceless. The storm of identity collided with roiling strength, and it took everything Madeleine had to hold back an automatic blow. "Th–!"

  He struck again, intensifying the assault, and the roil of power Madeleine contained hit back. Not tangled with a shield, as had happened on the beach, but a blast of pure will, of self, and it was like a starburst, a sudden blooming of white and blue, and for a moment before her stood a boy, and above him a Moth.

  Then the light went out of them both, and they crumpled to the floor.

  "Stop," Madeleine repeated, and dropped to her knees.

  Fisher lay on his back, eyes open, blank. The Moth – Théoden – was just behind him, a crumpled kite. She'd killed them both.

  The tower was silent. Neither Moth nor boy moved. Madeleine knelt, at a complete loss, unable to understand why Théoden would tell her to think of Nash, then–

  Groaning, she scrambled forward on hands and knees. When a Moth left a Blue, the Blue died. There'd been no stories of a Blue living through the end of possession. But when had any Moth tried to revive one? CPR was an obvious thing to attempt, but Madeleine had a better example. A leech Blue, needing a daily dose of energy to survive. Théoden had all but drawn a map.

  How much? A thread? A jolt? Surely not the crushing blow which had struck them down. She pressed her hands together on his chest, and measured out a dose of desperation and panic, channelling it into him, the whole of his body shifting in response, as if he were a balloon inflating.

  Lifting her hands, Madeleine scanned him anxiously for any sign of change. His eyes had shut, but he was so still. Should she try again, flood him with energy, or shift to CPR? But then his head turned, just a little, and his eyelids cracked. His chest rose as he drew in a slow breath, life returning as gently as waking.

  Madeleine drew back, suddenly unable to touch this boy she had undressed, this stranger she had kissed so thoroughly. She looked instead at the crumpled creature behind him. A flattened paper lantern.

  Easing over to kneel beside that alien shape, Madeleine studied the network of fading blue lines which suggested an almost humanoid figure. But it was a pattern on a kite, no true body. No eyes, no limbs, no heart. She held out her hands anyway, placed them over a central point. Her palm sank into a chill surface, and she drew it back. Then, trying to keep to the very surface, Madeleine sent out a measure of confusion and regret. With it came gratitude, and a deep note of stronger emotion. Briefly the blue lines took on a brighter hue, which almost immediately faded.

  Tears wouldn't come. The need for them was a tight pressure in her head, her chest, but Madeleine was at the bottom of a well, and everything was distant. To her right Fisher lifted a hand, turned it to study the palm, opened and closed it.

  "What did you do with that food?" he asked, still lying on his back.

  "...second floor freezer."

  The words came out tiny, squeezed past the lump in her throat, but he seemed to have managed to hear her, sitting up, then standing in a single, fluid motion. He didn't turn, paused only a moment to stare out at the Spire, then circled left along the outer wall of windows.

  Everything inside Madeleine had snarled into a tight, vicious-edged lump, knotted beyond untangling. She watched the colour fade out of Théoden until, after what was probably a long time, or moments, Fisher returned. He stood very still, looking at the creature which had stolen his body then given it back.

  Without comment he moved to Madeleine and held down to her a plate. Once-frozen chocolate cake, microwaved until the icing had melted and run. She had never felt less inclined to eat, barely turning her head enough to see what it was. Fisher hesitated, then took the plate over to the window, set it on the sill, and sat beside it.

  "I know this is extremely hard for you..." he began, then stopped. Long seconds ticked by, and when he spoke again his voice was halting. "I have no idea how to feel about you. There is...I have a great deal of emotion for you, but I don't know how much of it is mine. I suppose you – I – " He paused again, then changed tacks completely, becoming crisp and businesslike: "In around five hours the Core will return. There's a great deal to do before that. Although it's possible for me to manage it without you, the chances of success are much lower."

  It made it easier to have him focus on the larger issues, to not go anywhere near how either of them might feel. And through the barbed wire wasteland which filled her, Madeleine had discovered a direction.

  "I could do that for Noi, and the others, couldn't I?"

  "Yes." His relief at her response was obvious. "In fact Noi is the crux of the plan, since she's been taken by one of the Five."

  "Does this plan include some way to get out of this tower?"

  "We jump off."

  That was enough to make her turn to him, and she suspected it had been intended to. He was frowning at her, that angry expression she'd learned could mean whole layers of emotion. As soon as she let herself see him, this tall, skinny, very smart boy she'd found herself adoring, her wire-wrapped heart thumped and bled and she had to drop her eyes. She couldn't do it, couldn't face how much he remembered, how he felt, dared not let herself study him for differences, similarities. She would not look again.

  "Tell me what to do."

  ooOoo

  Circling the upper turret of Sydney Tower was a walkway which led to two glass-bottomed platforms projecting over the edge of the main floors. The Skywalk. Madeleine and Fisher stood on the platform facing south-east, a light breeze exploring the vulnerabilities of their jackets.

  "That hotel," Fisher said, pointing left and almost directly below. It sat on Elizabeth Street: two sets of terraced balconies joined by a rectangular main building, all with an uninterrupted view to Hyde Park and the Spire. An immense distance down. "Noi is in the section on our right. We'll be going in through an access door from the roof. Aim for the left of the central building, beside that pool. The shape you practiced should give good control of speed and direction, but if you miss, head to ground level and meet me at the corner of Market and Elizabeth."

  Even in her bruised and locked-down state, Madeleine could not simply jump off a building. Clutching the straps of her backpack, she peered at the array of roofs doubtfully.

  "I'll be going first." Fisher bent to study the beams below the glass floor. "Looks like this will be structurally sound without the railing, but stand back while I make a gap."

  "I'll do it."

  Fisher hesitated, then moved away, silently acknowledging the power differential between them. He would need to save his strength.

  The vertical sections of metal railing were thick and solid, but a couple of well-aimed finger punches easily took care of the narrow horizontal bar joining them. A tiny piece of metal remained connecting the bar, and bent easily as she pulled it inward. Then, stepping to one side, she held her arm over the railing and punched the clear main panel inward.

  "Practice again," Fisher said, still maintaining the crisp, businesslike tone which made it bearable to be near him. "Get a feel for it at full size."

  On another day, even with the two upright posts to hold, standing on the edge of such a drop would have had Madeleine gulping, trying to convince herself the floor wasn't tilting. But this night, in sight of the Spire, she was only allowing herself to think of her friends, of Noi down there needing rescue. And of carrying out the plan Théoden had died to set in motion.

  Narrowing her eyes, she raised a shield a few metres in front of her, then began to thin and shape it, so it became a massive curve facing away from her, hopefully matching the form Fisher claimed would help h
er control direction. It was difficult to be sure: she had never tried anything like this with her shields, and its near-invisibility made the process a kind of mental sculpture, theoretically producing a combination between a sled and an oversized paraglider. The wind tugged at her, the tiny gust suddenly immensely powerful, so she hastily released the shield and moved back.

  "Okay," she said.

  "Because of the size, your descent should be slow, allowing you time to experiment with steering. It can be more responsive than a parachute, given you'll be on top, and can alter it at will. Do you think you can change the shape quickly?"

  "Maybe." This still involved jumping off a building.

  "If you find this too difficult to control, try shifting to the more triangular glider shape I showed you. Even if you panic and let the shield drop, just make another, as large as possible as fast as you can. It doesn't need to be complex – anything large will give you the drag to slow down." He paused. "If you can't do it, signal once I've landed, and I'll get the lift key and come for you."

  She almost looked at him, then made the tiniest negative motion with her head. "I can manage."

  "I'll see you down there, then," he said, voice momentarily flattening. He stepped into the gap, holding the upright supports tightly. Wind ruffled his mop of hair, and with barely a pause he tipped forward, and vanished.

  Catching her breath, Madeleine clutched the railing, and in the night-time shadows spotted him only because he was falling, slowing as she watched. He must not have spread the shield till he was well on his way. Conserving his strength. He curved toward the hotel, the movement controlled, effortless. She lost sight of him in the gloom as he circled, then saw a tiny shape pass over the lighted rectangle of the rooftop pool.

  Seeing how quickly and easily Fisher had managed somehow made it worse for Madeleine. There was no way she could swoop down like that. Jump off a building and work out how to fly, all in an easy two-step process? Maintain a shaped shield while falling? No matter how strong she was, that was beyond any reasonable learning curve. She'd end up slamming into the support shaft of Sydney Tower, or zooming off toward the Spire. Or dropping like a stone.

  Her hands on the cold railing felt slick and damp, and she shivered in the late autumn chill. Impossible. Beyond impossible.

  Noi. She repeated the name out loud. Noi down there, possessed by one of the Five. The need to bring her back was a rock-hard certainty, a promise never quite spoken. Noi, and Emily, Min, Nash, Pan. Lee Rickard would certainly have something to say about being able to fly beneath the stars.

  She raised her shield, working quickly, having learned the power of even a tiny wind. The possibility of being dragged off her feet helped, because it meant she could not keep standing there, clutching the railing uprights.

  "Straight on till morning," she breathed, and tilted forward.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  There was no plunge. Madeleine glided with soap bubble ease, the sensation almost that of sliding over ice, the shield beneath her far more responsive than she'd anticipated. She shifted it a degree, as easily as moving a mental arm, and the glide became a leisurely swoop toward Central Station.

  Glorious!

  Unhurriedly, for she was still very high, Madeleine attempted to follow Fisher's instructions, and made a minor adjustment to the shape, a curling of one corner, taking care to keep her changes small. She curved to the left, circling over the Anzac Memorial at the southern end of Hyde Park, and drifted back. The hotel was a good place to aim for, with its distinctive terraces and long upper roof. Still too far below to hope to land, but if she went south again and lined herself up as if for a runway, she would have plenty of opportunity to correct her height, and face far less risk of overshooting.

  The city spun below her, reduced to blockish shapes and streaking lights. The Spire was a slim shadow ahead to her right, Sydney Tower a shorter rival to the left. Blobbish lumps below were all she could make out of Hyde Park's trees, which were far too low to pose any danger of collision, and provided a simple line to use as a guide. The hotel's long roof was not entirely flat, had some kind of air-conditioning plant on top, but that was long and flat as well, and she dropped to a mere leg-breaking distance as the near edge of the long centre building approached. Passing above four large fans, she lifted a little to barely clear a white circular projection, then swooped down the last few feet to the surface of the roof, contracting her shield so that her landing was a little fast, but obligingly bouncy.

  Done. Face-down on concrete, arms spread wide, safe. She rolled onto her back and stared up at a foreshortened view of two towers. Had he known how that flight would make her feel? Lined up this domino, knowing she would desperately need to be uplifted? It had helped, so much. Théoden, all that she felt, was still a roil of confusion and grief, but the barbed wire had rusted through. It was gratitude which blurred the stars.

  The recollection that she was lying on the roof of a hotel full of possessed Blues prodded her to movement. She scrambled to her feet and padded softly to the north end of the section of roof. The curve of the pool room roof was a lighted jewel below, and Fisher waited just before it, a so-familiar silhouette. Kneeling, she reversed, dangled and dropped down off the plant level, noticing deep scrapes in the concrete as she let go. The Core must land his dragon up there.

  Another drop and she was beside the pool, Fisher turning as if to take her arm, then stopping short. But Madeleine had found the strength to keep herself focused on her goals, and was not thrown by the near touch.

  "Were there cameras monitoring me?" she whispered. "Will the Moths know what's happened?"

  "There were cameras, just not enough. They can't see the place where Théoden is, and will only know that you have gone up on the roof with what they will think is him. They can tell a possessed Blue from a non-possessed, but not through a camera image."

  "So they'll know right away when they see you?"

  "Yes. Every Blue we encounter, you will need to spirit punch immediately. Most of the Moths will die." The clipped tone wavered for a moment, then resumed. "If there's multiple Moths, I'll try to revive the fallen Blues while you fight, and it will be easier as we progress because our numbers will grow. However, the strongest Moths, particularly the Five, can survive separation from the host. That's why, before we go for Noi, we need Nash."

  "To drain, like he did the Rover." Some of what needed to be done was obvious. Dominos, falling into place.

  "Nash won't be possessed – he's being held for much the same reason you were. Any Greens will need to be shield-paralysed and locked up. Ideally, we want to collect Nash and free Noi as quickly and quietly as possible. If an alarm is raised – well, that will involve running, and passing on the information we have before the united strength of the En-Mott clans descends on us."

  He led her to an access door and eased it open. Glancing down as they stepped inside, Madeleine saw that folded paper had been wadded into the gap in the jamb. Another domino. How had Théoden felt, this last day, putting in place all the things which needed to happen after she killed him?

  Madeleine took deep, calming breaths, trying to prepare herself. Going into battle, a thing which she'd technically accepted back when the Musketeers had been practicing combat, now meant facing the probability of killing another Moth like Théoden. There was no way of knowing.

  But she would do it. The consequences of hesitating were too large.

  ooOoo

  The next domino had been a card key, tucked behind a picture frame in the first hallway.

  "The elevators are monitored," Fisher said as he collected it. "The cameras are in the far right corners. Put your hood up and look down and to your left as we walk in, then turn and straighten. There should be no problem with anyone seeing me on camera – perhaps a little heightened attention, but not the full alert you would inspire. The security room is on the same level as Nash, so we'll take it out first. It's usually manned by Greens, so in this case I'll shield-s
tun first, and you spirit punch anyone who doesn't fall down. Ready?"

  Madeleine tugged her hood well forward. "Is it only Noi and Nash in this building? Do you know where the others are?"

  "Min and Pan will be here. Emily is part of the sub-group led by another of the Five, based in the hotel next to this one."

  "Okay."

  The clarity of Fisher's knowledge made it obvious he remembered every detail of the time he was possessed, and she could not let herself think about that too much, could not spend time going over all the things she'd said and done. But it was no easier to think of killing people. Glad of the shadow of her hood, she followed him to an elevator, and did her best to move casually, bending her head as if she was glancing at Fisher's shoes, turning unhurriedly.

  They travelled more than a dozen floors down, and strode with casual confidence to knock on and open a door, quite as if they belonged. The room beyond was lit by a grid of screens, images of corridors, rooms, the hotel entrance. Heart thumping triple time, Madeleine barely saw the people sitting before them, dark shapes turning, one getting to her feet. Fisher was quick, all three of the figures jolting from a blow, but the one standing was still moving, the tiniest fragment of Moth song lifting, and Madeleine punched, panicked by the idea of dozens of possessed people running in response to an alarm. In the compact room, the sudden bloom of Moth above Blue seemed blinding, the alien too close, giant.

  Then it fell, becoming Madeleine's second kill that night, and she recognised with sick certainty that she would keep a count, and remember it always. But the Blue, a woman, had dropped back on the chair, limp and wrong, and Madeleine had to make certain that the count didn't jump immediately to three. Rushing forward, she pressed hands above heart and pushed out a frightened little spurt of worry.

  "Good." Fisher sounded as breathless as she felt, but he was already moving, turning on the room's light and closing the door. "I'm going to grab gear to tie them up," he said, bending over the two Greens and searching pockets, removing mobile phones. "Paralyse them again if they begin to revive before I'm back. Is she breathing?"