by Kurt Johnson
I groaned. My chance to talk with Nonch or Alar over lunch had been eliminated. To further make the day less nova, I was bubbled in every subsequent class.
My last class let out, and I slumped against my locker. Kids streamed around me, making me feel like I was in slow motion and out of step with the world. Some that recognized me would quickly avert their gazes. Others chittered to their friends and attempted a subtle point in my direction. Like I couldn’t see them. Pfft.
Saving Alar had only gained me the Principal’s anger. The giant Elion, Alar’s parent, knew me. Alar’s cryptic statements were a puzzle piece that, like all of the others, suggested that this was a big puzzle.
And between the meteors…. I frowned and corrected myself. …Between the crashed starships two days ago and the events leading up to now.… The thought of finding the other pieces of this puzzle made my heart thump with urgency.
Once I’d retrieved my supplies from my locker, I picked up my pace. I’d been walking slowly, not only to think, but on the offchance Nonch might find me. We usually bumped into each other after school, but he was nowhere to be found. Hope of catching a minute with him before we all left for home faded with each step across the playground.
I waited for Cri at the VCP. Despite the fact that I'd been upset with her earlier in the morning, her company would have been a comfort. She probably would have told me that grownups didn’t know what they were doing, and that being bubbled by Principal Entarch was totally nova. I smiled, imagining her saying that and the accompanying fist-bumps. Five more lonely minutes passed. With a sigh, I left a message on her dart that I’d waited, mounted my dart, and flew home.
Let’s see. School Day 1? Miserable.
Oh, and I also had a meteor-load’s worth of homework.
14
Banefire, angry and huge, looked like it was boiling the ocean as it set. Pink, orange, and purple clouds the size of mountains were streaks of foam against its horizon-spanning background. And the thousand-
meter tall Galactic-alloy buildings scattered sunbeams through streams of air cars and billowing factory smoke…so, so far below us.
At this height, the thrush of the wind crowded out nearly every other sound. Far below us, Ever, the sprawling, glittering prism that was Nem’s capital city, was a whisper. My stomach lurched, my inner ears grew heavy, and I fell forward over the balcony toward the streets below. I grabbed the kitchen table and turned away from the 3-D holo vid in an attempt to manage my vertigo.
The experian that Mom had thrown over the balcony accelerated with vomitus speed, leveled, and then spiraled back to our height atop one of the spires that marked the Glean Embassy. Experian drones slightly larger than a Human hand transmitted 3-D images (everything except for smell) back to their designated holoprojector. Our experian drone provided a view of our capitol and the eighty million or so Galactics that walked, drove, and flew in Ever’s ecosystem. In a blink, we were above the Embassy, soaring toward the clouds and the birds above the city.
“Sqwaaaargk!” The drone tumbled, and our view flashed from city-to-sky-to-city-to-ground-to-city-to-ground-to-sky for several moments before stabilizing. A storm of red, green, gold, and yellow feathers flashed into our view like confetti.
Well before the War was over, Humans had seeded the galaxy with what I’d affectionately labeled as bioterrorists—rats, gratcher, and spinach, oh my. The most prolific and profoundly annoying of the bioterrorists were the parrots—aka flips. After 1,800 years, flips had expanded throughout the Convergence and now lived, well, wherever they could possibly live. They had perfected reproducing, flying, pooping, and eating as loudly as possible. From level flight above their target, they’d “flip” into a dive and, zooming at incredible speeds, knock their prey senseless and out of the sky. Sometimes, when too intent on their target, they missed. Misses inevitably ended messily.
“Ooooookay,” Mom said.
Just like that, Ever’s forest of kilometer-high spires, clouds, and swarming traffic shimmered and was replaced by a grey, oval, stone conference table that could seat thirty Gleans. It was huge. Mom sat at the head of the table. Behind and above her on the wall was the Glean Unity Creed: “Peace, Love, Family, War.” Empty, high-backed chairs rose like black monuments on either side of her, each emblazoned with the creed.
That last word didn’t translate into Terran. It wasn’t really “war”; it was more like, “aggressive defense of Peace, Love, and Family.” Mom’s white suit and charcoal turtleneck contrasted with her red skin, golden eyes, and jet-black hair.
“Those flips,” she sighed, shaking her head while smiling at us.
“You girls would love it here,” she continued, and then, more to herself, “I wanted us to have at least a weekend in Ever before school started….”
“Love to you,” Dad said, breaking her reverie. He folded his four hands to his heart and then his forehead, and last, extended them toward his wife while dipping his head at the last gesture. They had been apart for only a day. Mom’s scar flushed purple and her eyes flashed gold at his words.
“Love to you,” she returned before following Dad’s gestures.
Dad cleared his throat and, without ceremony, said, “Raystar was bubbled today. All day, in fact.”
I rolled my eyes and thumped my head on the kitchen table. Fabulous start, Dad.
“I saved an Elio–,” I murmured.
“What?” Mom placed her hands on the grey stone table as she leaned forward. “Which teacher?”
“No teacher. Principal Entarch,” Dad said, shaking his head. “Raystar and two of her friends. The young Asrigard, in fact, saved an Elion’s life, and….”
Mom flushed, her scar turning dark and angry at the mention of an Elion. I gritted my teeth. They were not two of my friends. Only Nonch was my friend. I winced, noting that with AI gone, I was down to one friend.
“Well, something more important happened to me,” Cri interrupted.
I lifted my head and eyed her. Dad turned to her and blinked. Nova, what was her problem? She returned our looks with an eager head nod.
“Yeah,” she said, looking at me like her competition. “I got expelled.”
“WHAT?” we chorused.
“I was leaving school and I had to go to the bathroom. I came around a corner and found three older kids who had Mieant surrounded.” She paused, looking to each one of us. “They were pushing him. He was pushing back.”
We stared at her. Mom waved impatiently with her two lower hands for Cri to continue.
“I heard Raystar’s name. The kids were shouting about Mieant’s parents being ‘Human lovers’ or something. I didn’t get involved then, uh, ’cause I really had to go. When I came out, though, the kids were hitting Mieant. He saw me. We made eye contact.” She straightened. “I couldn’t not get involved.”
Mieant was a jerk. I hadn’t ever thought of him as someone who needed saving.
“And then…?” Mom asked.
“Well, uh, then the fight was broken up.” Cri looked down. She peered up at Mom, and then Dad. “By Jurisdictor Godwill and school security.”
“Godwill!” Dad thundered. “What was he doing at school? You see, Sathra, we must make all….”
Mom silenced him with a pointed stare and thrummed her fingers on the stone table.
“What happened then?” Mom asked softly.
“Godwill took the two of us to the Principal’s office. He told her that we’d been caught fighting.” Cri paused. “What could I have done, Mom…Dad? It’s not like the Principal would believe me over the Jurisdictor.”
Dad placed a giant hand on the back of her head. “No,” he said gently. Proudly. “You did fine, Cri.”
“Did you talk with this Mieant-child?” Mom asked.
“Uh,” Cri paused, “A bit when we were waiting outside the Principal’s office. He said he was surprised I helped him. He thanked me, a lot.” She looked down, smiling slightly as she remembered. Her face turned a deeper shade of red. “Yeah. He tha
nked me a lot.”
“Curious,” Mom said, pushing her chair back and staring into the clouds through the window. “The Asrigards. I could not imagine them being targets.”
Behind Cri and me, my three-hundred-kilogram giganta-Dad clomped back and forth across the kitchen floor. He stopped, surveyed us, and then looked at Mom.
“Sathra, Lethians are fighting Lethians.” Dad shook his head slowly. “Attacking us? Understandable. Inevitable. Antagonizing the Asrigards by attacking their son? These tactics do not make sense to me. I should make contact with them.”
“Is revealing ourselves wise, darling?”
Dad stared at Mom. “Without allies, we are powerless.” He hesitated. “Without knowledge, we are powerless. If we gain allies or knowledge, our tactical situation is improved….”
He let his thought trail into silence, and Mom nodded. Before I could ask what the flip they were talking about, Dad continued. “What news from your brother?”
Mom stopped thrumming and looked at her hands.
“The debate is as fresh as it was thirteen years ago. His opinion of us has not changed.” She paused and sighed. “But he recognizes our commitment. Perhaps he grudgingly accepts it.” She paused again and tilted her head, considering. “Or perhaps not.”
“He warned me that the Convergence is mobilizing on a scale not seen since”—Mom’s golden eyes took me in—“the War. New alliances are forming. Old ones are being destroyed. Raystar’s guess was correct. The aid my parents sent us was eliminated.” She moved a hand to her heart as she spoke. “We cannot proceed in ignorance any more. We must gain understanding.”
“Mom?” Cri questioned in a small voice, looking from her image to Dad. “What are you talking about?”
Maybe Mom didn’t hear her biological daughter’s question. She took a deep breath and fixed her husband with an eyes-wide stare. Placing her hands evenly on the stone table, she said, “And I fear there is much more,” she paused. “The Ninety-Eighth and Three Hundred and First Battle Groups are being sent to Nem’.”
Dad rocked back. “Two entire battle groups?” he whispered to nobody in particular.
Cri and I both glanced at each other. My bubbling in school, the fight with Mieant, Cri’s expulsion—all these big events were washed away by the magnitude of the news. Along with my belief in coincidence.
Twelve thousand ships were coming to Nem’??
“What does your brother instruct?”
Mom inhaled. A moment later, she responded. “He has sent our current status to the Great Gathering. He believes Mother and Father will act, but only after they have weighed outcomes in the context of why we came to Nem’ in the first place.”
She looked at me, then at Cri, then back to Dad, and then continued. “Given the distance, any help they would send is a month away. The Convergence fleets are two weeks from Nem’. While we have our own ship, Brother advises us to stay on Nem’ and remain in Blue River.”
Dad blinked, considering.
“Love, that makes no sense. Why does he think that makes sense? Staying here is not an option,” he said. Then he tapped the kitchen table softly with his lower two fists. “Do we even have two weeks?”
Mom stood and smoothed her suit. “I do not believe so.” Her eyes flashed gold as she made a decision. “I will return tomorrow.”
“Lady Ceridian.” A deep voice interrupted our conversation. The voice’s source was out of the experian’s viewing range. “The Heir requests your presence.”
Mom looked hard at Dad, tilted her head to us, and then looked back toward the doorway—where, presumably, the attendant who was speaking to her stood. The Heir? Of the flipping Gathering? Dad’s face collapsed from his planning look to his resignation-about-something-horrible-about-to-happen look.
Cri missed his expression. I’m neither arrogant nor trying to put her down. I am saying that my sister was frowning at her hands as she twiddled all of her thumbs (which, at least from a multitasking perspective, was a nova more impressive than I could do), and I think Mom and Dad’s last words had flown over her head like a starbat.
Mom looked toward the voice and then turned her gaze back to us.
“Brother calls,” she sighed as she rose, smoothing out her white suit as if preparing for battle. “Be safe. I will be there in the morning. I love you all.” The holovid flickered and then was gone, leaving only the kitchen wall and silence.
Cri dropped her mouth open so wide a gratcher could have fallen asleep on her tongue. She stared at Dad.
That made Mom, the uh, Heir’s sister. My parents were nobility. Nothing made sense. I needed to think, but I was too staggered by the revelation. They had kept this from Cri and me?
Dad pulled out a chair, placed his hands on both of our shoulders as he sat, and said, “My daughters, we need to talk.”
15
“I AM ASCENDANT!” Cri yelled, bounced, and twirled around the kitchen, ruffling my hair as she spun past me. I batted her hand away and pulled my knees to my chin.
“Yes,” Dad made hushing movements with all four hands as he set out food for us. “Yes.”
The puzzle pieces were impossibly jumbled. My parents hadn’t lied, but I sure felt my place in the family was uncertain. That they had kept a secret like this for so much of my life hinted at a much flipping larger purpose. That I’d been kept in ignorance for this long cracked the foundation of my trust in them.
“Jenna is going to be soooooo jealous,” Cri said, excitedly.
“Ab-so-lute-ly. Not.” Dad accentuated each syllable with a poke at the table.
Cri stopped mid-spin, rebellion in her eyes.
“No.” Dad’s voice was firm.
“But–,” Cri said.
“NO.”
I needed AI. He had huge amounts of real estate in my head and my heart. I could have talked with him about this, worked things out. I don’t think we realize how much space our friends and family have until they’re gone. And they can leave so quickly. I angrily rubbed my eyes with my palms.
“Daaad!” Cri whined.
“You must not tell anyone,” Dad rumbled. I didn’t look up, but I’d bet his eyes were flashing.
I tucked my head in between my knees and closed my eyes, trying to shut out their noise. I was dependent on everyone for safety, for information. No one was dependent on me. Two days ago the only threats I faced were the bullies at school, or the headaches from the Storm Walls, or possibly dying of boredom. I couldn’t let fear make me an unthinking beast.
Because whatever I was, I had power of my own, even if I didn’t know how to control it. Information was power. Tomorrow, then, I’d go to the library and do research. I grimaced. If I’d had AI with me, I could have done a lot more tonight. Add him to the list, then. I needed to get him out of the waste recycler.
“Fine,” my sister huffed and plunked down in the chair next to mine at the table. Then she turned her glare to me. “Raystar’s not Ascendant, is she?”
“SHUT UP!” I exploded, my chair clanking to the ground as I stood over her.
NOVA! I couldn’t think with her talking about Ascendants. I couldn’t keep a straight thought in my head whenever she said that word, and she must have said it a million times!
Cri frowned, but then a slow half-smile crept onto her lips as she looked up at me, returning my gaze. “Feeling left out, Twig?”
“Apologize,” Dad said calmly, “to your sister.”
My heart pounded against my ribcage, and I realized I’d forgotten to breathe. I let the air and angst out with a soft exhale. I looked from Dad to Cri. “Sorry,” I paused. “I’m going upstairs.”
I stacked bread and cheese into a napkin and walked toward the stairs, but Dad caught my arm as I passed him and gently guided me back to the table. He set the chair upright and met my gaze. I sat down.
“Please, listen, Raystar.” I looked at him and he continued, nodding at me. “When we adopted you, we, the Gathering, decided that your care could only be
trusted to the Ascendant line. Mom and I. Nobody on Nem’ knows who we are. We did this for your safety.”
“My safety,” I said, blankly.
“Yes. Your genetic makeup is…” he paused, considering his words, “a threat to the Convergence. And perhaps more.” He sighed and waved vaguely at the kitchen table for me to sit, as if giving up on some internal struggle. “We are all in danger. You both must understand.”
“I’m Ascendant, and now Raystar gets all the attention,” Cri muttered. Dad looked at her under lidded eyes.
“In order to understand Raystar’s status, context is needed. Some you may know.”
“Pppppppllllllllfffffff!” Cri rolled her head backward. “History? Seriously, Dad?”
“Cri, shut up, I swear I’ll….
“Enough,” Dad huffed. “Now is the time for understanding.”
He rose to begin the lesson. “Humans are confusingly, creatively, brightly alive. Your free will and concept of self-determination terrifies the Lethians. They have led the Convergence for millennia, and we all have grown accustomed to accepting their rule. But they were unprepared for Humanity. When the Convergence came across the Humans 1,800 years ago, completely predictable demands were made by the thousand-world-strong Convergence to your newly discovered race—demands that had been made and met countless times before.
“Join, or be conquered. Given how small Earth’s influence appeared to be, the Humans’ response was…unexpected.
“Human space was comprised of loose associations and trade agreements, but under the Convergence threat, alliances and treaties became laws, political structures became rules, and the Terran Republic was born. Your kind’s resistance inspired the Gleans, Elions, Charians, and Machines to join the Republic as allies. Each species was unhappy with the Convergence in its own way. With these new allies, the Humans’ seat of power converged on the remarkably beautiful planet, Earth, in the Sol System. Terra.
“And so, Humanity turned its creativity and technical prowess, to…war.” Dad paused and looked at me seriously.