“More of the devils?” She shudders. “He wants to let them go?”
“He wants to control the galaxy and get rid of any challengers,” I say. “For now, the Shir don’t matter to him, because they’re a threat he’ll take on later, once he creates a Third Empire.” So far she hasn’t commented on my slur. I like this girl.
“You know what them Shir are?” she asks. “You find that out in your . . . studies?”
“No,” I say. John Starfire knows, but he didn’t tell Rashiya. Evolved life? Sentient, even? “They eat life. Planets, stars, people. The Empire wasn’t interested in studying them, just keeping them contained.”
She says, “We jumped into that Dark Zone. I saw one of them. It was . . . evil scary, and it was hungry.”
“Billions of people will die, at least,” I say. “He’ll get his Third Empire, though. Until he can’t control the Shir anymore.”
“What the hell do you want to die for when you might be able to stop that?” she says. “Seems to me like you spent all that time soldiering for a crazing fool, you might have amends to make.”
I find myself turning on her. “Don’t you slight the Resistance. We gave everything to free little dodgers like you.” I stop myself from saying You should have been there with us, if you care about a cross’s rights.
“Then why’ve you all gone crazing?”
“Not all.” She looks at me like I’m some kind of idiot. “I didn’t know everything that John Starfire wanted to do. And not everyone does. There will still be good crosses in the Resistance, who are willing to help for the cause of real justice. There are many who believe.”
“That’s why we gotta fight, scab!”
“And if we could make them think that John Starfire isn’t the one in the prophecy, maybe—”
“I en’t the prophecy girl,” she says, cutting me off. “Can’t be. Not me. I’d be late to save the universe, or show up drunk, or some other damn thing.”
This girl is, other than her other strange qualities, a snappy one. “Your followers will believe, and you need to act like you are the one, whether you are or not.”
How about that? Here I am, using John Starfire’s words against him.
She stares up at Trace like it’s about to fall on her. “I en’t the one,” she mutters. “Crazing fools, all of you. Anyway, slab, we have a star map for what used to be the Dark Zone. Maybe the Suits or someone can figure out what used to be there, and where them Shir came from. You figure out where they’re from, and then you call some of your friends in the Resistance who might key in, and . . .” She frowns. “What’s it called when you have a resistance to a Resistance?”
“Counter-resistance?”
She frowns. “En’t there a fancier word for that?”
“Resisting Resistance?”
“Better keep that mouth shut, slab, if that’s what comes out.”
“Why don’t you think of something better?” I look long at her. The planet’s light is catching her face, faintly, a faint gleam off her nearly black skin. “You have hope,” I say softly.
“En’t got anything else,” she says. “Might as well keep hope. Here. You play?”
It’s then that I notice the guitar she’s brought. It sits on the sand next to her, catching the light.
“No, I don’t play,” I say.
“Learn,” she says, handing it to me. “I en’t got time, what with that kid wanting to teach me to read. We’re going to need some music on this trip, and you always talking about it.” She reaches over, and hesitates. And finally, she touches the scar on my face. “It was hard to go against your friends, aiya?”
I swallow, my synthskin tongue twitching. “Yes.”
I look at the guitar long after she leaves. Is this what hope looks like? Just wood and string, but full of unreleased notes, unembodied songs, whole soaring suites that I need to learn to play.
* * *
Jaqi
Odd scab, that guy. I kind of still want to punch him, but I figure I’ve got to forgive and let it go; he saved all of us and made himself a traitor to the most powerful folk in the galaxy, and he knows how to swing that blade.
I walk back into the circle, around the fire. The kids are asleep, on Z’s shoulders. Everyone else, our new friends, talking quietly. Variety of languages. I know some of them—I reckon I know more languages than Kalia, which is nice to think, given she knows just about everything in them books.
I don’t let myself look too long at Z, or think about earlier today, and what I just did. It’s going to be some time before my evil small brain can think on that one. I brought a big old slab back from the dead. That’s evil good news, except that it makes me just what he said I was.
No, let’s think of that tomorrow. I sit back down.
“Here,” says one of the tribesmen, a fella with a bone mask pulled up over his scaly face, showing only his little yellow eyes.
“Here what?”
“Food,” he says. “From the gardens. You have come a long way, and we offer you something precious.”
“You fed us plenty of that horse meat, and it was sure better than a protein—” I catch my breath at what he’s got.
“This is precious. To welcome you.”
He’s got something in his hand. He drops it in mine. Firm, but yielding. The firelight catches the smooth skin, and I turn it over.
I may have lost that normal life, but the universe finally did me a kindness.
It’s a tomato.
* * *
To be continued in
The Starfire Trilogy: Book Two
Shadow Sun Seven
Acknowledgments
Massive thanks to my amazing editor, Beth Meacham. I think every writer thanks their editor for “taking a chance on this manuscript,” but in this case it’s more apt than ever, folks, because the first draft Beth saw was ROUGH, and she saw something worth smoothing. Huge thanks to everyone at Tor.com who helped midwife the Starfire Trilogy and get the word out, and to Sparth for the awesome cover. Thanks to the super-agent Sara Megibow, who is always there for every question, and always fighting to get the book into the hands of readers. Not just agent. Super-agent.
Huge thanks as well to Cascade Writers, the best damn writing workshop in the world, that introduced me to said agent and editor.
A very special lumbering two-ton mammoth of THANK-YOU to Langley Hyde, who has been the number one beta reader and number one idea bouncer for Starfire, always coming up with ways to BIGGERIFY the story. You probably deserve a cowriting credit, but for now I hope you’ll settle for a latte and a muffin on Sunday morning.
Special credit to my dad, who read just about every story from Super Tiger to this one, and cheered them all on. Thanks, Pop. Thanks also to my sisters, brothers and my mother for the stories they’ve read and the encouragement they’ve given me over twenty years. Finally, all credit goes to Chrissy, Adia, Sam & Brigitta. Your love fuels every word.
About the Author
Photograph by Chrissy Ellsworth
SPENCER ELLSWORTH’s short fiction has previously appeared in Lightspeed, The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, and Tor.com. He lives in the Pacific Northwest with his wife and three children, works as a teacher/administrator at a small tribal college on a Native American reservation, and blogs at spencerellsworth.com.
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Table of Contents<
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Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Epigraph
Overture
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-3-
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-11-
-12-
-13-
-14-
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Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright Page
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novella are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
STARFIRE: A RED PEACE
Copyright © 2017 by Spencer Ellsworth
All rights reserved.
Cover art by Sparth
Cover design by Christine Foltzer
Edited by Beth Meacham
A Tor.com Book
Published by Tom Doherty Associates
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New York, NY 10010
www.tor.com
Tor® is a registered trademark ofMacmillan Publishing Company, LLC.
ISBN 978-0-7653-9572-6 (ebook)
ISBN 978-0-7653-9573-3 (trade paperback)
First Edition: August 2017
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Starfire, A Red Peace Page 17