Spinning Starlight

by R. C. Lewis

  “The design,” he murmurs. “It’s the same.”

  I noticed that, too. The angry red marks on my palm are a perfect match of the engraved pattern on the sempu. That’s how the energy cuts through.

  Then he traces his thumbs lightly up either side of my hand, outside the edges of the scars, and I don’t want to think about Khua or conduits or Minali or my brothers anymore.

  I have to kiss Tiav, so I do.

  My hair is a tangled mess, and I’ve been days without anything other than the minimal hygiene kit in my pack. I don’t care. Based on the way his arms wind around me, drawing me closer, he doesn’t either.

  When he pulls me too close and winces, I care about that. He only lets me back away a little.

  “I said I’m fine.”

  I trace my fingers over his ear, through his hair, and mouth the word. Liar. That makes him smile, but it doesn’t last.

  “Liddi, what are we going to do? The Agnac are putting out an imminent threat order. They could kill you on sight, no trial. The Crimna are fighting it, the Ferinnes and Haleians can’t decide, and the Izim won’t talk to anyone. My mother doesn’t know what to think, and she always knows. The rest of the Aelo know something’s wrong with the Khua, but think it’s because of what you’ve been doing. I can try, but I don’t—I’m afraid no one will listen to me now. As soon as those Agnac report back to Podra, I’ll be stripped of my title.”

  A chasm opens up in my chest, overflowing with guilt. It’s all fallen apart. Tiav will lose his status as Aelo—what he’s worked at all his life—and his whole world is in chaos. The death sentence hanging over me could extend to him as well.

  And Yilt. Imminent threat order. Yilt may not have as much time as I thought he did.

  I use my finger to draw swiftly in the dirt. A small figure to represent myself, and a hulking figure for Yilt. I point to it and look to Tiav, letting all the panic I feel paint itself into my expression.

  “That Haleian who helped you? No, they won’t execute him. It would mean war with his people. But he’ll be kept in a detention facility, maybe for the rest of his life.”

  That news is only a small relief. Yilt won’t die for helping me, but wasting his life away in confinement won’t be much better. I don’t have the answer to Tiav’s first question—I don’t know what we’ll do next—but I know somehow in the end we have to make everyone understand. They have to see Yilt doesn’t deserve that punishment.

  “Okay, one step at a time,” Tiav says when I don’t offer anything else. “We’re safe for now. How are we still on Ferinne? You can’t travel by Khua within the same planet.”

  I don’t know how to explain it to him, or everything else he needs to know. Maybe Spin-Still can tell him.

  YES, SHE CAN.

  It’s about time I give back what I inadvertently stole. I lift the cord from around my neck and lower it over Tiav’s head. He closes his eyes and his breathing slows as he concentrates on communicating with her.

  Meanwhile, I contemplate how strange it feels not to be holding Spin-Still anymore. Not lonely, because I’m with Tiav. But like silence has closed in again, wrapping itself tighter around me. It brings an ache of isolation I’d almost forgotten.

  Tiav opens his eyes, and everything in them is more complex. Sad, overwhelmed, anxious, happy, and hopeful. I don’t know how he can feel all those things at once and not explode. Then he takes off the sempu and tries to put it back on me, and I definitely only feel one thing.

  No. Absolutely not.

  “Liddi, yes. She belongs with you. I didn’t even know they have names—we never thought to ask. Didn’t know they don’t need the shrines—the anchors—anymore, haven’t for a long time. Didn’t know their connection to us, to biological beings, was helping them evolve and grow, rather than already being at the apex of their own existence.”

  See, he already knows more than I do. He’s an Aelo. I’m not.

  “I’ll only hold on to it if we’re going to release the Khua over there, because I’m not letting you do that again.”

  I’m not letting him do it, either, but neither of us is doing it right now. I point at the sun nearly straight overhead.

  “You’ve never released one during the day. That’s on purpose?”

  A nod, and I push the sempu toward him. He pushes back.

  “Please.”

  It’s too hard to argue when he says please, when he looks at me like that…when he smoothes his hands over my hair and neck as he settles Spin-Still in place. I let it go, but I don’t like it. Even if having her back dulls the ache of silence again.

  We need time to decide what to do next, to make a plan, but I can’t just sit here. My pack has a small medical kit in it, but I don’t know what anything does. I pull it out and hand it to Tiav, hoping he’ll find something to help him with the pain. While he looks, I go down to the river and refill the water flask. Yilt assured me it had a built-in purifier, so I don’t need to worry about anything nasty in the water. If we’re going to stay here, we can’t sit in the sun all day. The mountains present several possibilities for shelter. We’ll work on that when Tiav feels up to moving.

  He’s fished a pill of some kind out of the kit when I get back and gratefully accepts the offered water. I point to the sun again, but before I can point to the mountains, I freeze.

  Vid-cams. I’m being watched.

  No, that’s not it. Not the same buzz. More of a hum with a grating edge, making my bones itch.

  “What is that?” Tiav asks.

  The anchored Khua draws my eye, several feet away. Even with the anchors locking them in, the Khua usually float and hover loosely, like a buoy on a wave. Not now. This one is perfectly still, as frozen as I feel.

  I hurry over and put my hand to one of the spires. It vibrates. A lot.

  This might mean it’s too late. That the Khua have been fully locked down and they’re fighting a losing battle not to tear everything apart.

  NO, NOT ALL OF THEM. JUST A FEW, LIKE THIS ONE, BUT THE OTHERS ARE RUNNING OUT OF TIME. THIS IS WHAT QUAIN PREDICTED, BAD THINGS HAPPENING BEFORE THE END OF THE MOON-CYCLE.

  Spin-Still’s assurances mean there’s only one thing to do. I take her from my neck, wrap the cord tight, and start pushing.

  It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. Worse than before, worse than any of them, and it won’t move, I can’t. Tears flow down my cheeks, the only release when I can’t cry out.

  “Liddi, stop!”

  I can’t do that either. The vibrations run through me, ready to shatter my bones, but I have to keep pushing. I can’t stop Tiav from getting to his feet. He’s unsteady but makes it to me without falling.

  No matter how I push, how I throw all my weight into it, the Khua won’t budge. I’m not strong enough to break the bond in daylight. My feet skid on the rocky ground, not giving me enough purchase.

  Tiav reaches around and puts his hands on mine, leaning against me. We both push.

  It works. The Khua breaks free. Tiav and I stumble forward before he grabs my waist to pull me upright.

  WE HAVE TO LEAVE. WE HAVE TO GO NOW, USING THE KHUA WE JUST FREED, WE HAVE TO LEAVE FERINNE.

  Spin-Still’s urgency shakes me. I don’t know what’s happening, why she’s telling me to leave. What about the other anchored Khua?

  NO TIME FOR A PLAN, NO TIME FOR THINKING. THE PRIORITY HAS SHIFTED. THE POISONING EFFECT OF THE CONDUITS HAS INTENSIFIED, AND IF WE DON’T GO NOW, THE KHUA MIGHT NOT BE ABLE TO TAKE US SAFELY AT ALL. WE NEED TO FIX THINGS, AND WE CAN’T DO THAT HERE.

  But the Khua still anchored on Ferinne—

  WHAT I’VE DONE WILL HAVE TO BE ENOUGH.

  “Your hand,” Tiav says.

  Yes, it’s bleeding again, nothing new, and we don’t have time. I leave his arms, grab my pack, and point to the Khua, still hovering nearby.

  “Leaving? Where are we going?”

  His hesitance is unmistakable, and I understand. He’s been taught all his life that using the Khua to trav
el is the wrongest of the wrong. And it’s not going to be a pleasant trip.

  There’s also no time to explain. I pull Tiav close and reach for the Khua.

  It’s time for me to go home.

  The Sentinel and the Wraith were once friends, equals who together created the realm of Ferri as a home for the spirits of the Seven Points after they died. As they worked, the pair found they had very different ideas of what Ferri should be. The Sentinel thought it should be soft and smooth, a place for the spirits to forget the trials of their lives. The Wraith thought it should be sharp and powerful, a place of labor to remind the spirits they were unworthy of the protection they were given. Without Ferri, the spirits would be lost.

  The two friends discussed, and then they argued, and then they fought. One began to shape Ferri to his liking, and the other tore it down, insisting it must not be so. Destruction and ruin were the only results.

  Finally they decided they could work together no more. They drew a line through the foundations of Ferri, the Divide that could never be crossed. The Sentinel created Idyll, full of tranquility and beauty. The Wraith created the Abyss, where the toil and torment would never end. When men and women of the Seven Points died, they would be claimed by the one they most deserved.

  Even knowing it wasn’t real, young Liddi didn’t like the story. If the Sentinel and the Wraith were so powerful, they should’ve been smart enough to find a better way.

  THIS TRIP THROUGH THE KHUA is one too many in too short a space for Tiav. I have to catch him again when we arrive, my own legs barely holding, and he’s breathing too fast.

  “Please—can we—not do that—again, Liddi?”

  I look to the sky. The angle of the sun has changed, and beyond that, so has the sun itself. A little smaller, a little whiter than Ferinne’s sun. More important, I know these woods. We’re on Sampati, not far from the house. Keeping one arm around him without aggravating my injured hand, I pat Tiav’s chest to ask if he’s okay.

  He nods, forcing himself to take slower, deeper breaths. It doesn’t stop his shaking—or mine—but he keeps to his feet. When I urge him to take a step forward, he starts walking. Neither of us is very steady, half from the aftereffects of the Khua and half the protest from our equilibriums about the subtle change in gravity.

  “We’ve left Ferinne, haven’t we? I’ve never been on another planet before. Plenty of people visit Crimna or Agnac or Halei, but my mother was always too busy. What is this? Erkir?”

  His nerves show in his rambling, and I can’t blame him. I remember how I felt when I unexpectedly landed on Ferinne. Looking up at him, I shake my head and mouth one word. Home.

  Tiav’s eyes go wide. “Sampati? It’s not how I pictured it.”

  Of course not. It’s one of the few parts of Sampati that’s not like Sampati at all. He’ll probably see that soon, but first we need to get to the house. It’s close enough that I still haven’t walked off all the Khua-aches by the time we get there. I stop at the edge of the woods, and Tiav waits with me, silent.

  Everything looks the same. The garden needs a little weeding, that’s all. I can imagine the Triad bursting out the back door any minute. My gut twists with the knowledge that they’re not going to.

  I’ve been gone a long time. Long enough for Minali to notice. And possibly long enough for her to set a guard here. Or long enough for her not to expect me to come back somewhere so obvious.

  We wait, and we watch, and Tiav doesn’t ask any questions. He just takes the medical kit from my pack and treats my hand without a word. Finally, I decide we’ll have to go in and see what—if anything—awaits us.

  “Welcome home, Liddi.”

  I almost cry at the sound of Dom’s voice.

  “That was a rather lengthy absence,” he continues, “and not reflected on your schedule. Ms. Blake seemed quite upset not to find you here when she stopped by. I take it you are still not speaking?”

  That’s obvious, particularly when I pull up the drawing screen and do a rough sketch.

  “A vid-cam? No, Liddi, as you’re aware, vid-cams cannot function on the property, aside from those installed in the house. Those remain secure.”

  “Smart computer,” Tiav murmurs.

  “I’m not a computer, sir, I’m a subroutine running on a computer. I am the Domestic Engineer and Itinerary Keeper. You may call me Domenik, or Dom if you prefer.”

  Despite clear bewilderment at having a computer program introduce itself, Tiav responds. “Nice to meet you. Tiav’elo, call me Tiav. Um, Liddi, that woman who trapped your brothers…could she have tampered with Dom while you were away?”

  “Absolutely not!” Dom answers for himself. “The Jantzen family knows better than to use simple passcodes like birth dates, sir. My system has quadruple-layered encryption and triple-redundant backups.”

  It’s true, my brothers are beyond diligent about keeping their tech secure, so I move on. For Dom and Tiav to be able to help me, I’ll need them to speak the same language. I draw again, this time the Eight Points, arranged in their ring. A few simple lines in red connect the Seven, then a few more in blue for connections including Ferinne. I point at it and wait for Dom to make his guess.

  “Are those the portals and conduits again? You appear to have included an extra Point.”

  I look to Tiav and shake my head. He gets it. “No, the blue ones are called the Khua. The extra Point is Ferinne—that’s where I’m from.”

  “Intriguing. I shall update my database.”

  Okay, we’re getting there. I point to the red lines again and nudge Tiav.

  “Domenik, what did you call the red lines?”

  “The conduits. More reliable than the ancient portals for interplanetary travel.”

  “Your brothers told me something about false Khua. That’s what you call them?” Tiav checks. “Conduits?”

  Exactly. I pull up one of the larger news-vid feeds on the wallscreen and point to it and my sketch of the conduits at the same time.

  “You want to know if there’s been any news here about them, about the conduits.”

  “There has indeed,” Dom says. “Would you like a summary or to watch them yourself?”

  One finger for the first choice. Tiav seems startled as he realizes Dom is watching us through the in-house cams.

  “Over the past nine days, each of the Seven Points has reported dozens of minor tectonic tremors. Damage has been minimal thus far, except to conduit terminals, which use highly sensitive equipment. Conduit travel is thus restricted to emergencies, but technologists at JTI are currently working on a fix. The coinciding timing of the tremors on all seven planets is also being investigated.”

  They’re saying the earthquakes damaged the conduits when really the conduits caused the earthquakes. Minali has to know that, but it’s possible everyone else is buying the story. She’ll complete the process of locking my brothers in, and if it works to stabilize the conduits, she’ll be praised as the hero who kept the Seven Points connected.

  If it doesn’t, we’ll be buried under too much rubble to point fingers.

  I don’t care what her simulations said. That eighteen percent chance of failure sounds more like a certainty to me. Her simulations didn’t account for the Khua, for life. She’s working off of incomplete data.

  “So, what do we do?” Tiav asks. “Do we tell these JTI people what’s happening, how to stop that woman who attacked you and your brothers?”

  My expression in response is withering.

  “She’s with JTI? Like, someone they all know?”

  I hold my hand high above my head.

  “The boss?”

  Technically, that would be me, but close enough.

  “Would she stop if she knew what she’s doing to the Khua and Ferinne?”

  The question lodges in my head directly between yes and no. I’m not sure. She didn’t hesitate to put my brothers’ lives on the line and handcuff me, all in her obsessive certainty that she’s saving civilization. B
ut I’ve known her for years. She’s always been a little too driven by calculations and the bottom line, but I never thought she’d take a cutthroat instinct so far. Maybe she can still be reasoned with.

  Then I remember one important fact. I’m contemplating reasoning with a murderer. She killed Garrin. Why would she care about a planet we’ve forgotten, or a race our people never believed was alive at all?

  I shake my head. It’s like Quain said. Talking to her would only tip her off to any plans we might have. Not that we have any plans yet.

  “What, then? Do we destroy the conduits?”

  I drop onto a couch, my head in my hands. Getting rid of the conduits makes sense—they’re what’s causing all this trouble—but my brothers are stuck in there. And even if we find a way to get them out first, the Seven Points would become completely isolated from each other. Minali is right that losing the conduits would be catastrophic. Our society for hundreds of years has depended on movement between the worlds. Without the others, each Point is unbalanced in what it can provide. How can I destroy the lives of billions of people?

  Spin-Still pulses against my chest. No matter what the Agnac think, the Khua don’t mind carrying people between worlds as long as they’re asked, not forced. Like Tiav said, interacting with biological beings allows them to grow. They restrained themselves from fully manifesting in the Seven Points at the request of the Aelo, but if I ask, they’ll return. We can extend use of the sempu and work together.

  If Tiav and I can find a way to save them first. I look up at him and give an uncertain nod.

  He sits next to me, runs a hand across my back. “Okay. We’ll find a way to do that. If there’s one thing you’ve shown Ferinne lately, it’s that you know how to sneak around and sabotage things if you want to.”

  I clamp a hand over my mouth to keep a humorless laugh from escaping. Maybe it’s a sob. He has no idea, but he might as well find out now. I pull up several old media-casts in rapid succession.