Beyond Our Stars

by Marie Langager

  The rattling got louder and went from a worrisome shaking to a different, unnamable sound that could only be described as coming-loose-at-the-bolts-terrifying-we’re-all-going-to-die noise.

  “Ooohhhh,” came out of my mouth. Not as a word but a sort of hollow groan that echoed and bounced around in my room as the ship shook violently and I struggled to hang on. Then we were catapulting forward. I was flung from my bed into the wall. I curled into the corner of my room, trying to hug the floor.

  But then the furious ride started to slow and the ship started to feel normal again.

  “We’re through and final descent begins in 5…” the countdown began and a blaring alarm sounded, blasting down the halls and into my room.

  I pictured Chief Up to try and make myself feel better. He’d be working on whatever the problem was right now. He’d know what to do, he could fix it.

  “Make it, make it,” I prayed, sitting up and talking aloud to myself again.

  The voice continued the countdown over the intercom. Then there was a sick lurching feeling in my stomach and I knew we were descending.

  When the alarm suddenly stopped, I expected another lurch forward, something else bad. Instead I felt the jiggling, jostling feeling of colliding with a solid surface.

  “We’re here,” I whispered. Seconds later I sat bolt upright. But what now?

  ***

  Chief sent out armed men from the Reflection as a perimeter defense. We waited to be attacked. But nothing came. After a while Chief gave the order that we could disembark the ships. People walked outside nervously. Our landing site was a maze of ships. We’d landed the sixteen major vessels and twenty-eight minor ones into high grass; massive ships settled in fields of grass growing higher than your head, in fields with tall stalks of unfamiliar plants, smaller ships in patches of root vegetables or in the spaces in between orchards of tall trees.

  No one was eager to wander far from the ships but we could see a little ways in most directions. On the east side of the Reflection were more of the same crops and trees. The maroon leaves of the trees to the east dotted the landscape all the way into our landing site. It was a sea of purple. To the south were gold and brown colors stretching far into the distance behind us. To the west and the north was the green patchwork quilt, different types of vines and leaves growing in a highly organized profusion of food. We’d landed in the morning and the wisps of deep green and wavy yellow skylights were still visible, though muted by the planet’s sun.

  Almost immediately we discovered that our landing site was a nesting spot for animals about the size of a pig, with mud-colored shells, hard as diamond. Six legs wriggled under their squat bodies. They didn’t have heads, only two antennae on either side of the front of their body. The slimy antennae were about an inch long, with huge, bulging eyes at the tips that moved around, like a demented slug. The animals looked dim, but they charged at the slightest provocation. Growing out of their hard shells were short, curved spikes like rose thorns that were jagged and razor sharp. Our medics spent the morning treating people with sliced up hands and legs, fingers missing, from defending themselves against the ferocious creatures. Bullets didn’t penetrate their shells, but finally an enterprising kid figured out their vulnerability. He waited at one of the holes in the ground, threw a large rock and smashed one of its eyes. Then he hit it again, in the other eye.

  Turned out once it was blinded you could sneak up on it, flip it over, and locate the one small crack on its underside where the shell exposed the flesh underneath. The kid got to be the first to name something in our new world, and he called them Steves.

  It was a cruel game of death, but we needed meat. And all of our fingers.

  After we defeated the Steves, Chief ordered us to spend the entire day harvesting the crops we’d landed in. After five years of the tasteless oat gruel and vacuum packed, frozen or freeze-dried, canned cafeteria fare, fresh food was a delicacy. It had been a delicacy long before that. Guards walked around us as we worked but people forgot about them as they greedily plucked the fruit and threw caution to the wind.

  I knew someone probably should’ve said something about testing out the food sources to make sure they were edible, but the sight of a round, yellow root vegetable caught my eye and I had to dig in. It was earthy and sweet, with a crispness that was light and juicy but had a little tang at the end. I pulled them from the dirt, devouring one after the other.

  After gorging ourselves we began gathering. We still had some supplies, but it was only maybe a few weeks worth. Rationing had never been necessary because more ships were built and stocked than had actually taken off.

  Back on Earth we’d been camped out around the ships that were built in Nevada for over three weeks, waiting to see if any more people would make it before we left. In other countries survivors camped at their ship sites. The ships could communicate back and forth though most other means of relaying information had already been destroyed. The day picked for takeoff was chosen because no new refugees had shown up in the last three days at any of the ships, and we couldn’t wait forever. During that time we’d taken food from other vessels and over-stocked ourselves. We hadn’t ‘saved’ any because at the end of our journey there was Haven. Now as I helped gather, I wondered if we should’ve been more cautious. Re-supplying ourselves was necessary, we wouldn’t be able to go far if we were attacked and we’d need the food.

  We didn’t unload a thing. The ships were still our home. No one felt welcome here and those who didn’t understand things like crumbling ships wanted to be able to take off quickly if the need arose. But one ship’s core had given out seconds after landing.

  People made plans to sleep together, in the hallways and in the bays and auditoriums. Everyone, myself included, felt better being in a group. We waited all day for whoever had planted the crops to appear. The anticipation was almost unbearable. I couldn’t sit still. But nothing happened.

  At nightfall I forced myself to go to sleep. It was a restless night with unfamiliar sounds and the shifting of bodies waking me intermittently after so many years of sleeping by myself or with Chance. I awoke to the strange sight of people throwing blankets off themselves and stretching in the hallways. I sat up from my makeshift bed and forced myself to believe that no contact the first day was a good sign.

  “What the hell did you do to yourself?” It was Houston, who’d come to sleep next to me.

  I rubbed my eyes wearily. “What, hair’s a little out of place? Give me a minute to wake up, will ya?”

  “No, you goof! I mean why are you drawing on yourself? You look…” her voiced trailed off uncertainly. She met my eyes.

  Something about her look made me get up and check my face, to see what her reaction was about. I found the door to my quarters, stepping over and kicking sleeping people who cursed at me. I hit the code, flooded the room with light and went to stand on my bed and find my face in the six-inch square.

  “What the hell…” There was a marking on my forehead. Three vertical lines with dots next to each of them. They were painted on delicately, in an iridescent color that glowed a soft green.

  I carefully brought my hand up to touch it. It stayed in placed, but I could feel the substance. Like a glue.

  Houston cleared her throat behind me. I turned and stared at her with wide eyes.

  “This is… weird. We should go see the Chief,” she said. I wholeheartedly agreed, but I didn’t get the chance to answer her because there was the unmistakable sound of murmuring and small cries going on out in the corridor.

  Houston and I ran for the door and peeked outside.

  Weeks had been sleeping several yards down the hallway from us and people were standing around him in a circle. He was rumpled from sleep, his messy hair in maniacal disarray. He had the same marking on his forehead. And even farther down the hallway, so did the shy blonde Houston had made friends with.

  “Hey, she’s got it, too!” someone next to me yelled out. I had no idea what w
as happening, but I had nothing to hide. I walked to the middle of the hallway, people crowding around me.

  “We go see Chief, right now,” I said.

  I stomped over people and grabbed Weeks by his forearm, and then put my hand on the slim blonde girl’s back to guide her as well. As we went people whispered. Some backed away like we’d been cursed or were catching. Some tried to grab us and ask questions we had no answers to.

  “What did this, you think?” Weeks said out of the corner to his mouth to me.

  “You mean who,” I corrected him.

  It ended up being a long, drawn out process to get to the Chief.

  Word of mouth said that there were numerous people who had the markings, and the symbols weren’t all the same. Everyone who had a marking was instructed over the intercom to come to the Chief’s quarters. I kept dodging people who wanted to ask questions, and along the way I found a kid surrounded by the crowd because he had the marking but didn’t want to go anywhere.

  He was actually shaking, trembling over his whole body. People were yelling things, asking him questions as though he were part of some alien conspiracy. Pilgrim was the boy’s name.

  I grabbed his hand and held him close to my side, and gave anyone who came near a death stare.

  Finally, we were all in Chief’s quarters. He had a large living space which he’d filled with all manner of tools and liquids and spare engine parts that he wanted to have on hand at a moment’s notice. It was hard to sit on any surface without getting a wrench up your ass.

  “Alright, I’ll start by saying I know that none of you were expecting this and are just as in the dark as I am, so we’ll take this slow. We’re not going to let anything happen to you.”

  There was a tangible ease of the tension in the room as Chief’s deep, booming voice took control.

  “Now, first, and please don’t feel uncomfortable I’m only trying to sort this out, please go and stand next to people who have the same…symbol as you do. This one can be here…” he started gently moving people to different parts of the room.

  I let out a gasp when Chance came walking right towards me. I hadn’t noticed him before. He had my marking.

  “You too?” I asked, suddenly upset.

  “Me too.” His usual distance was gone, but he didn’t hug me. He held my eyes and I wanted nothing more than for him to hold me tight.

  “Hey, guy,” he said, nudging the small boy who was still holding my hand. “So, me and you are in this together, huh?” Chance gave the boy a small smile.

  “I guess so, but I don’t know why you’re so happy about it,” said a tiny, but very intelligent sounding voice I’d never heard until now. Chance and I both laughed. I squeezed the boy’s hand again and he gave me a cautious but grateful look.

  Before people were even done moving it became clear that there was order to the different markings.

  I looked around me. We were all near the same age.

  The little kid’s group was to my left. Some had parents, some had an older sibling or someone else who had brought them aboard. I couldn’t imagine what their guardians must be feeling right now.

  Despite my best efforts I was starting to panic too. This is bad, what is this? But I tried to look strong for everyone else’s sake.

  The younger kids had a line on their forehead that weaved in a circle, curving and curving to make smaller and smaller spheres. To my right there was a group of adults who had two vertical lines with two dots on top, and then further right were a bunch of old-erly, with wavy lines that formed a crescent shape. My eyes went to Chief as he held out his hand and began counting.

  “One, two, three, four, five…”

  Yes, of course, how many? He counted ten old-erly, and while he counted the adults I counted us up. Only nine? Was that right? I double-checked. Yes, only nine.

  Chief didn’t count us, he looked at me. “Nine,” I said.

  He frowned, “Hmm.”

  The door to Chief’s quarters slid open again and a man with polished black hair and the straightest posture I had ever seen walked in, with Legacy’s arm firmly gripped in his hands.

  Legacy had the same three lines and three dots on his forehead, and he scowled at the man holding his arm, and then at the rest of us.

  “I apologize for my son’s tardiness,” the man said, shoving Legacy ahead of him into the room.

  “I don’t apologize for it,” Legacy chirped, with a sardonic smile.

  Chief waved his hand to call Legacy over. He pointed to our group. Legacy’s eyes got big when he saw us but his surprise was quickly masked with a mocking, apathetic expression.

  His father stayed in the room.

  “You may go, Cole,” Chief said.

  “I thought you might want me to bring some news to the people, they’re eager to know the minute by minute…”

  “They’ll have to exercise some patience for the time being. I don’t need you right now, Cole,” Chief said, very politely.

  Cole hesitated but then decided against whatever he wanted to say and turned to go.

  “That’s right. Not gonna be the big man today,” Legacy said. But he said it quietly, so only those really close to him could hear it.

  Chief came and stood in the center of all of us. “So, then it’s exact. We have ten of each, seemingly divided by age.” He looked thoughtful.

  “Yeah, it’s some big mystery,” Legacy said, “Somehow, aliens came in here and put this shit on us, and it’s probably a brand to signify the first ten to get slaughtered and barbequed.”

  “Now, son. Making other people afraid won’t make you any less afraid,” Chief said.

  “Whatever, I don’t care. Not about any of this,” Legacy said. He moved away from the group.

  Chief’s eyes followed Legacy but he resumed. “And only people from the Reflection, that’s interesting.”

  “Maybe because we lead the fleet,” I offered.

  “Perhaps,” Chief nodded. “I don’t know what these symbols are. But I agree that they were probably made by whoever lives here, and that means we need more security than the guards posted outside the ships. I think we should create a stronger outer line of defense, if we can get volunteers. That will at least give us some warning if they come back.”

  We all agreed with that, even the old-erly. Chief told us to wait in his quarters for now. I assumed it wasn’t so that he could keep us all in one place, but more because if we went our separate ways right now we’d be accosted by people. He went to order preparations for the extra guards.

  We all tried to make ourselves comfortable, which wasn’t easy given that between the Chief’s stuff and forty people, space was cramped.

  Legacy went to sit in a corner of the room but the rest of our group stayed and sat in a semicircle with a few crowded into the middle. I guess we were all curious about who was in this with us.

  “I’m Hope,” I started.

  “I think they all know who you are,” the blonde girl from lunch said in a barely audible voice. What was her name again?

  “Oh, everyone knows me?” I asked, not understanding.

  “You’re only the most popular girl on Reflection,” the girl answered.

  That shut me up. I was? Not to my knowledge.

  I rolled my shoulders. “Okay, well, regardless, my name is Hope. How about everyone else introducing themselves?”

  “I’m Chance,” said the boy who hated me.

  “I’m Pilgrim call me Grim,” said the small boy next to me without pausing between the words. He had shiny dark brown hair and wide eyes.

  “Faith,” said the dark-skinned girl who had mysteriously taken third at the slamming final.

  “I’m Gaia, and we’re sisters, so I don’t think they chose any of us by accident,” she said.

  The girl who’d told me I was popular glanced to her left and said, “I’m Marseille.” Right! That was her name. I made a mental note to ask Marseille why she thought I was so awesome. Sure, people thought I was a
strong kid. But no matter what she said, I was not some kind of celebrity. I noticed that like at lunch the day I met her, she kept her lips in a constant pout and incessantly fiddled with her hands.

  “Cairo,” said the handsome boy with dark hair sitting next to Marseille. He had a thick accent and his words came out a little stilted. “My father brought me to America from Egypt.” So he was another transplant. Again I felt bad for the people who uprooted their lives in search of a safe place they would never find on a doomed planet.

  “Name’s Weeks,” said the one person I was actually glad to see.

  “I’m Boston,” said a young man with super-short dark brown hair who was sitting on the outskirts. Sure enough, he also had a slight accent.

  I sighed, knowing who was left. “And that’s Legacy in the corner,” I pointed.

  After introductions we were silent for a moment. I could hear the other groups making awkward introductions as well, except for the children, who were pretending to build things with Chief’s parts and tools.

  “So, anyone want to share what they think is going on here?” Chance offered.

  Nobody had time to answer, as Legacy’s dad came bursting back in. His eyes scanned frantically for Legacy, then he grabbed him and started pulling him out of the room.

  “What?” Legacy protested.

  “Now you want to stay? Or just always the opposite of what I want?” Legacy’s dad pulled him roughly. At the door, he turned and called out, “They’ve got us trapped! We’re like lambs to the slaughter.” There was a wild look in his eyes.

  That was enough to make everyone scramble to get out of the ship and see what was going on.

  “This way, Hope. It’ll be faster if we climb our way down,” Chance called to me, pressing a pad to open a shaft entrance in the corridor as others swarmed past us.

  “You go,” I said. I tipped my head back motioning to Pilgrim who was struggling to stay by my side. Chance paused, but then he jumped into the shaft. I jogged with my new friend down the decks since the elevators seemed to be jammed.