Star Child: Places of Power

by Leonard Petracci

  “Oh, SC.” She giggled, turning in the darkness. “SC the Boreal, what strange dreams I’ve been having. Show me that light again, will you? It was so beautiful the first time.”

  “Do you promise to be quiet?”

  “Of course, SC. No one can hear us in Dreamland anyways.”

  I cupped my hands, holding the dark sphere between them, and teased out light that projected onto the ceiling, streams crossing back and forth like shooting stars traveling from wall to wall as if the plaster were the sky.

  “I knew it was true,” Arial breathed. “I knew it. How can you do that, SC?”

  “Soon, but not yet, I’ll tell you, Arial,” I answered, keeping her attention on the lights. “But first, how are you? Are you okay? Can you wiggle your fingers?”

  “Of course I can,” she said, and raised a hand. “See? Why wouldn’t I be able to?”

  “From your fall, Arial. I was worried," I whispered back. "I wanted to make sure you were healing.”

  “My fall? What do you mean by – Oh God,” she gasped, and I saw one of her hands rush to her neck as the other reached the end of its handcuff restraint. “My mother! Where is she? Oh God, what have I done?”

  Tears started streaming down her face as she looked left and right, straining to see through the darkness, and I put my hand on her arm.

  “Arial, she’s okay, calm down. Quiet, keep quiet, or we’ll have trouble!”

  “You don’t understand, SC. That healing, it’s not free – not in the slightest! I’ve killed her, SC.” Her fingers wrapped around mine, squeezing my knuckles so hard they hurt, her nails digging into my palm, and I resisted wrenching my hand away.

  “It will be okay, Arial, she’ll come back! Just like when her hair turned grey after fixing the cup, when I saw her again, it was gone.”

  “No, SC, you don’t understand,” Arial said, her grip growing even tighter. “She can’t recover from this. What she gave is gone. Do you know the truth about Menders? About what they really are?”

  “What do you mean? They just have the ability to repair, right? That’s what makes them Menders!”

  “No, it’s more than that," she answered, her voice too loud for comfort. "Menders aren’t created under very specific circumstances, Menders survive very specific circumstances. You see, SC, Menders do not fix items for free – they give up energy. That energy has to come from somewhere. And at their minute of their birth, Menders cling to life just by their fingertips.”

  “Yes, I realize that. Then their doctor dies later, which makes them become a Mender.”

  “No, SC, that part’s not true! They’re already Menders from the minute of birth, when they are born broken. And the first thing they have to fix are themselves! But as babies on the brink of death, they have no energy to give. So they borrow that energy, or rather take it, from a willing donor. From someone who would give their life to save them. From the doctor, who in the right circumstances, wishes their survival above all else in the world. That’s why the doctor dies – it doesn’t cause a Mender, it’s the effect of a Mender! And the Mender carries that energy with them their entire life, surviving off the coattails of their predecessor.”

  Arial took a deep breath, a fresh set of tears flowing down her face, taking a minute to regain composure before continuing.

  “SC, fixing things like a broken cup only takes the temporary energy that is used by everyone on a daily basis, and only lets the life force behind it, that of the doctor, shine through temporarily. But what my mother did for me…” Arial swallowed, fighting to keep speaking. “What she did for me was such an enormous fix that went past it. Just as the doctor gave his life force for her, she gave it up for me. And in doing so, she lost years, decades, if she’s still alive now. Time that I stole away, that’s all my fault.”

  Chapter 63

  I stayed with Arial until she fell back asleep, the time short as the pain medication Siri had placed her on demanded back her consciousness. I wondered if she would remember me in the morning, if the comforting words I had given her after she revealed the nature of her mother’s power would remain, or if they would be washed away. And as I climbed back into the cabinet once I was sure she had fallen asleep, placing a pile of towels on top of the opening to seal it, I had one reason to smile.

  That her mother’s mending had not only repaired her physically, but seemed to reach into her mind as well, pulling away the influence of Siri upon her.

  I completed the walk back to the sleeping quarters quickly and in silence, the news of Arial’s mother only giving me more reason to hope that my plan had worked. That Darian would be traveling soon with The Hunter to whatever Siri didn’t want him to see, together they could expose her, and with her, the facility.

  And everything would return to the way it had been before my mother had been taken.

  It was Thursday before we received the signal from Darian. And at lunch, Lucio had started to doubt it.

  “He’s probably gone,” Lucio had said, flicking a pea off his plate in an arc aimed for Blake across the room. “He wanted to leave all this time. There’s no reason for him to come back.”

  “He’ll make it, Lucio. We had a deal,” I answered. “Maybe he won’t stay afterwards, but we can at least trust his word until then. And afterwards, where else would he go?”

  “Can’t say I know, but seems like he always wants to be somewhere else. So just not here, I guess. Besides, you're not the one who has to sleep each night with a towel wrapped around his head like a turban to drown out the singing.” He sighed and rubbed his temples before continuing. "It won't work much longer, by the way. Barely works now. Every few minutes, I get a stray thought about wanting to be a good citizen and it makes me want to puke."

  “As long as it keeps it at bay for the next day or two, it's a success. By then, Darian will make it, I promise. And afterwards, maybe we can give him a reason to stay,” I said, my voice far more confident than I felt. “Not just Darian, but you too, Lucio. This will all be for nothing if we just get caught again after and sent to another facility. Hell, if we let other facilities like this exist, we’d be guilty ourselves.”

  “So what do you want to do about it?” he asked, leaning forward. "Infiltrate them from the inside too?"

  “Let’s focus on scraping this one off the map first, then we’ll make plans for the others. Maybe they are better, but I have a strong feeling it isn’t the case.”

  When Darian's signal came, it arrived as a memory, one that flashed into my mind as I walked the inner perimeter of the force field after dinner, performing chores as near as I could to the edge of the facility. Lucio worked the other end, both of us having traded our dinners for the privilege of swapping chores with other students.

  The memory was unlike any Lucio had sent – where Lucio’s were carefully crafted and implanted to flow with a stream of consciousness, this was jarring. A single red number that filled my field of vision, with a single word scrawled beneath it in Darian’s handwriting. Flecks of other colors and images floated in the darkness, pieces of intrusive thoughts or emotions from Darian’s own mind. And as it dissipated, it left a searing headache and red stars that crawled across my other memories for several minutes.

  3, Tree

  The remainder of that night passed at a trickling pace, the chores dragging along slower than I thought possible, and my eyes forced wide open deep into the night. Their lids dragged downwards with the weight of the prior night’s lack of sleep, each blink ascending at a decreased rate, and I wished for power of a Narcolept. The snores and uncomfortable bedding aided my efforts, and taking advantage of the cold floor combined with no pillow, I forced my mind to stay conscious, biting my lip every time I felt a particularly strong wave of drowsiness, pinching my leg or adjusting my breathing to stay alert.

  Three was all I had to wait until – three more hours of putting off sleep until I met with Darian, then I could relax for three more hours after that. Perhaps feign sickness in the mornin
g, though I doubted it would excuse me from classes. Under Siri’s influence, even those with strong cases of the flu dogged through workouts, the moisture on their skin a mix of sick clamminess and physically induced sweat.

  All I had to do was stay awake until three.

  And at four, my eyes shot open as I gasped, leaping upwards and rushing out of the room, nearly stubbing my toe on the other sleeping shapes in the darkness. I streaked out the door, soaking my shoes as I splashed through puddles from rain earlier in the night, praying that Darian would still be waiting. And knowing that if he had departed, he had still fulfilled his end of the deal, and he might be gone forever.

  I reached the rhododendron in seconds, staring through the fence to see only roots occupying the ground, with no sign of Darian. I cursed, a slight breeze casting the insult back in my face, my eyes watering with a mix of frustration and sheer exhaustion. Then I turned, kicking a rock so it skidded across the lawn and tapped the side of the school, and jumped as I heard a voice from the branches high above.

  “You’re late!” chastised Darian, leaves shielding his body. “We don’t have much time, and there’s a lot to tell. Hurry – I’m literally half asleep. And I mean literally.”

  Chapter 64

  Darian groaned as he dropped from a branch high above, shimmying down until he reached the trunk and before jumping the rest of the way to the ground. He rubbed his eyes and yawned, stretching, and squinted at me before walking over.

  “Thought the message didn’t…” he started, then paused, yawning again and shaking his head. “Didn’t get through. Damn, can’t clear my head. Listen, SC, if you don’t understand any of this, just have me repeat it. Half of my consciousness is still at that hotel they have me holed up at – met a Doubler on the waitstaff a few hours back and picked up the power, so there’s another identical me sleeping in the hotel bed. Except I was supposed to stay awake, so I’m pretty pissed at other me right now.”

  “I understand the feeling,” I said, thinking back to the reason I had showed up late.

  “Yeah, well most Doublers are able to split their body without much consequence, but this one must have been a pretty—” He blinked twice, his eyes moving out of focus, then continued. “Pretty low powered specimen. Only one of my ears works right now, had to leave the functionality of the other one behind. And other me is blind as well. Damn, no wonder the hotel service sucked; guy would have been better off sticking to one body. Probably would’ve remembered the no onions on the steak. Typical.”

  “So it worked, then?” I whispered, checking behind me to ensure the schoolyard was still empty. “They bought it?”

  “Oh, they bought it, all right. They bought everything. Top notch room, surf and turf, unfortunately the onions, the—”

  “Not the hotel or the food – the rest of the plan! My mother! Did you find her?”

  “Oh, that,” said Darian, waving a hand. “Getting to that now. Yeah, SC, something's up. Something big, though we only caught a whiff. But it definitely smells.”

  “And?” I asked, leaning forwards.

  “Relax, SC, or I’ll think you left your patience behind just like I did,” continued Darian. “Anyways, here’s everything since the start. Ready?”

  “Spill,” I said. “Let’s hear it.”

  And Darian started, pausing every minute or so to gain composure, and even letting a full snore out twice.

  *****

  DARIAN

  Last I saw you was when I was being carted away, with the tree limbs binding me, and slung over the officer’s shoulders. I could’ve broken free, as you know, but I didn’t – like you said, I let them take me. And when the inquisition started, I didn’t give up a word to the cops or The Hunter.

  At first, I was afraid that they were going to try to use powers against me. But when I threatened to squeal if I ever made my way back to Siri, they backed off real fast. Nothing like arming Siri with a potential abuse case, right? Anyways, I refused to talk, and the only relevant power in the room was a Truther.

  After six hours, they let me out of the room, finally agreeing to try to win me over instead of trying to scare me. That was where dinner came in, as well as the room. And this morning, I let them crack me. And this was where Lucio’s memories came in useful.

  When I spilled that Peregrine had a top secret project in the same place he was keeping Arial, which was where he was keeping your power as well, the Truther verified my statement as accurate. After all, they were my memories, thanks to Lucio. Since all I claimed was that I remembered them, not that they happened, there was no lie to be found. And I claimed that only I would be able to recognize you, since Peregrine had several students loyal to him, but I had been the only one to actually see you use powers. Because you were forbidden to use your powers, none of the other students actually knew you existed.

  They left the room then, though I could hear them outside. Talking about how they knew that something was going on in the rehabilitation centers, how each year their recruits seemed less skilled than in the past. But none of them knew how to find out what exactly was happening. And none of them wanted to give Siri any means to suspect they were actively investigating – the police were adamant on this, some even suggesting they throw me back onto the streets and deny any interaction ever occurred.

  It took them ten minutes to realize, however, that while your power couldn’t be traced, Peregrines could. And The Hunter verified that, at that moment, he could feel it – a trace, but still something, coming from the distance. Without a warrant, it would be unlawful for the police to track down Peregrine – but they came to the shaky conclusion Hunter was not employed by the police, and what he did without the police’s knowledge was his own decision.

  So The Hunter came back in the room and managed to bribe me to accompany him on a small trip. Kept promising me more and more if I came with him, and eventually I caved at a semester of college tuition he offered to pay because of the importance of a proper education to our city's impoverished youth. Doubt I’ll see a dime of that, but anyways, it worked. In an hour, the police removed my handcuffs and discharged me, something they later would chalk up to an accident and allow them to readmit me. Just outside the station, a car pulled up, one that would have appeared to any bystander to be offering me a free ride. Of course, it was a little nicer than any car that I should have stepped into, a lot nicer, but the police had given me fresh clothes to replace the uniform I wore. New and provided by The Hunter himself, so I wouldn’t stand out as someone of low status as I stepped inside his car.

  Then we started driving – and, SC, no wonder Arial wanted to stay at the facility. Riding with that man for over five minutes was unbearable, and we drove thirty. Can’t imagine having spent over a decade with him. Sometimes makes you appreciate not having a father of your own.

  Anyways, SC, we drove in circles for thirty minutes, not because it was that far away – we could actually walk there from the facility without much difficulty. No, rather it was because The Hunter was lost and couldn't quite catch the full scent, for reasons I found out just afterwards. So remember, if you’re ever on the run again, we don’t have to put you in another facility to mask your power. There's another way.

  We just have to bury you.

  Chapter 65

  DARIAN

  I spent some years growing up in the ghetto, so I felt at home as we investigated. But it became pretty obvious that The Hunter was getting nervous – he has this tic, you know, where he carries a folding comb and runs it through his hair. I swear, once we turned on Crescent Street, he was folding and unfolding it more times than I could count. Anyways, we circled Crescent five or six times, and with a car as nice as his, we got plenty of stares. His hubcaps alone were probably more valuable than anything in that neighborhood.

  He insists that we park five blocks away and walk the rest, and he’s zigzagging through main streets to avoid any side alleys. Come to think of it, I wouldn't be surprised if he’d had a run in
with some of the Crescent Street inhabitants at some point while working with the police, so he was probably worried that one of them would recognize him. They are a really seedy bunch even by my standards – I’d say more people live on the sidewalks of Crescent Street than in the buildings, and they have their own economy based on cigarettes and shopping carts.

  The Hunter pulled out a baseball hat and sunglasses when we finally had to turn onto Crescent Street, and he combed out the “hat hair” for a good three minutes when we returned to the parking garage later. Unlike the zigzags when we were in the car, he beelined straight to a gated-off building towards the heart of the street, avoiding a herd of dumpster cats and beggars that started following us.

  Not sure if you remember this, SC, but around ten years ago, there was a plan to develop a subway stop on Crescent and a few side streets. Anyways, when the new mayor was elected, the funding was pulled for the project when it was eighty percent complete – apparently, some of the more affluent neighborhoods didn’t want those people from Crescent having easy transportation into their side of the city, so a few lobbyists managed to nix the completion.

  He leads me down into the station, and the first thing I notice is that the lights are on. Strange, since it’s supposed to be abandoned, but the escalators were broken, so we walked down them like stairs. A few of the doors had been boarded up, but many of them were smashed through, and in some of the side shops, street merchants had set up small operations moving illegal items. The Hunter and I couldn't have stood out more – with our clothes, it was pretty obvious we didn’t belong. So he finds a side hallway and we walk down that, then duck into a maintenance passageway that empties onto the track.

  There was never any rail, and the siding isn’t finished, but the track is walkable. We took it through the station, ducking low since it was recessed so no one could see us, and the entire time he’s moving like an arrow down the track. After a few minutes, he stops, does a three-sixty, and starts poking around the gravel under the track. But there’s nothing there, and he’s looking more confused. Keeps pacing up and down, muttering how he can feel it, but there’s nothing there but dark tunnel and rats.