Darken the Stars

by Amy A. Bartol

  “Don’t be so obvious!” he barks back. “They’re watching your every move!”

  “I’m not the one yelling!” I whisper, walking to the bench. “Which side are you on?”

  “You’re about to sit on my lap,” he replies, sounding amused.

  I move down the bench and gingerly take a seat on it, looking out over the water. “When do I get an invisibility belt?” I ask him.

  “A what?”

  “An invisibility belt, like the one you’re using right now. When do I get one?”

  “I’m not using an invisibility anything. It’s one of the abilities I inherited.”

  “But I saw you touch the box on your belt—when we were on the island.”

  “That’s a battery I use to draw energy to myself, so I can speed up my atoms in order to achieve this state. Do you know how difficult it is to stay transparent? It requires energy and focus.”

  “So I’m not getting a belt?”

  “What have you been doing since you arrived here?” he asks, ignoring my comment.

  “Nothing,” I reply.

  “He’s calling you his partner. You must be doing something right.”

  “Oh, that. I think I may have won him over with my savagery. He was impressed by the way I simply could not tolerate a couple of priestess bullies.”

  “Don’t tell me—was it like your first day in lockup?”

  It startles me to hear him say that. I forgot for a moment that he’s been following me for a large part of my life. “Something like that. You know how it is: You have to stand up for yourself right away, even if you get pounded for it. It’s always better than if you don’t.”

  “Did you get pounded for it?” he asks.

  “No.”

  “The fighter prevails.”

  I don’t comment. I just stare out at the lovely boats that dance over the water.

  “You didn’t tell him about New Amster. He gave you an opening to tell him and you didn’t take it. Why?”

  “I hold my cards close, you must know that.”

  “I do know that better than anyone,” he replies. “What did Kyon mean about what you saw last night? About almost dying?”

  “I was monitoring the future. I let it get away from me. He had to revive me,” I reply. “It upset him.”

  “Why would you stay away so long? You can control it. I thought we were past that when I sent you back the last time!”

  He sounds upset. I can imagine his green eyes narrowing at me. “I was gathering information regarding my survival. It had nothing to do with any plan to kill Excelsior.”

  “Is there a plan to kill Excelsior?” he asks.

  “There will be one soon. I’ll let you know when I work one out. I’ll come to you in New Amster.”

  “Make it soon. I wouldn’t want you getting too used to your new consort.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s an unfriendly. He’s a threat to us. You know that.”

  “If you want me to do this, then his death is off the table.”

  “You can’t be serious!”

  “I’m so serious.”

  “He’s a psychopath.”

  “He’s my psychopath.”

  “You’ve lost your mind!” he growls.

  “You know what sugar skewers are?” I ask him.

  “What?”

  “Sugar skewers. Do you know what they are?”

  “Of course,” he retorts. “They’re drops of sugar that puff out when you cook them.”

  “Yeah. You want to know what I noticed about them?” He doesn’t say anything, so I continue, “I noticed that if you impale a piece of sugar and hold it to the fire without treating it just right, it pops, explodes, and spits all over you.”

  “So you’re sugar now?” he asks.

  “I’m an exploding mess right now, so back the hell up.” I rise and start walking away from him the way I came.

  “Be in touch soon with that plan, Kricket,” he calls softly.

  “Okay. You take care now,” I reply over my shoulder.

  Crossing the massive archway bridge that leads inside, I’m met by Keenan, my personal bodyguard. We haven’t had much to say to each other since I’ve arrived. I think the fact that I tranquilized him and left him behind on the bathroom floor at our initial meeting puts a damper on things for him.

  He angles the freston that he wears slung over his shoulder away from me, pointing the muzzle at the ground. “Do you require assistance?’ he asks. His blue eyes watch me without expression.

  “Uh, yes. I do. I’d like to see Phlix. Do you know where she is?”

  “Her lodgings are in Victory. Would you like me to escort you there?”

  “Oh, you know . . . that’s okay . . . maybe you can just point me in the right direction?”

  He frowns. “I have to follow you anyway.”

  “Well then, please lead the way.”

  He steps aside, gesturing for me to precede him down a grand corridor. Floating orbs illuminate ribbed ceilings and etched columns. It’s clear when he indicates an overup concealed behind an arched doorframe that it will take me more than just a few days to figure this place out.

  Once inside the elevatorlike compartment, he waves his hand over holographic buttons. The door closes. The silence in the lift is deafening. I stare at the door. He stares at the door. We stare at the door. Seconds drag by.

  I mutter, “I’m sorry I had to tranquilize you—before—on the Ship of Skye. I needed to get away.”

  “You think you’re very smart.” It’s not a question.

  “No,” I disagree. “I think sometimes I’m very desperate.”

  “Kyon’s not the monster that everyone thinks he is.”

  “Yes. He is. He’s just not that way to you or me.”

  The door opens. I leave the overup and find that we’re at the top of the tower. A short corridor takes us to a copper-and-green-patina, bell-shaped door. “Is this it?” I ask. Keenan nods. I raise my hand to knock on it when it’s torn open and I’m engulfed in a huge Phlix hug. Out of the corner of my eye, I see that Keenan has raised his freston, maybe with the thought that I might be in danger. I raise my hand to stay him. He lowers his weapon without Phlix ever noticing because her face is turned away from him.

  “I was so worried about you,” Phlix says, her cheek on my shoulder. “Are you well?”

  I nod and cast my eyes upward; it helps me not to cry. I’m not used to this kind of heartfelt welcome. Phlix bounces back from me with the exuberance of a puppy and hauls me over the threshold and into a bell-shaped room with her hand in mine. Curved ceilings of tarnished green and copper bleed into ochre-colored walls. Everywhere black furniture accented with amber- and bronze-colored pillows give her sitting room an elegant-cave appearance. The sun shines through a window-wall on the far side of the room. With the glass partially open, the cool, mountain air enters in soft soughs.

  “How are you?” I ask.

  “I’m Pike-free at the moment, so life couldn’t be better.”

  “Liberating?”

  “To the extreme. I haven’t had to hide once this rotation. It’s been unreal.”

  “We need to talk,” I whisper without looking over my shoulder at Keenan. “Privately.”

  She smiles brightly and links her arm with mine. “Can I show you my view of the Doedash Mountains?” She bounces with enthusiasm.

  “I’d like that.”

  She takes me out onto the balcony, leaving Keenan in the sitting room. We’re in one of the tallest towers of the estate. The graphite-colored slate roof comes down to meet the terrace. The view is incredible. The terrace runs all the way around the tower, just below the eave of the peaked roofline. A large, red, pennant-shaped flag flies atop the spire. It’s a dragon emerging from a rune. Just beneath the pennant is a mounted gun. It whirls and tracks all the nearby aircraft that it detects on the other side of the dome shield covering the estate. It reminds me that we’re really not as safe as I’d like to
believe.

  I glance into the interior of Phlix’s apartment. Keenan is nearby, watching us through the glass. Taking Phlix’s arm, I begin to stroll along the round track of gray stone that circles the tower. “We need more privacy. Can you shadow us?” I ask as I place my hand on the wrought-iron railing, running my palm over it as we walk. I lift my hand every time it comes upon a dragon-headed newel.

  She doesn’t respond for a moment, but closes her kohl-lined eyes and concentrates. Opening them, her blue eyes sparkle as she turns to smile at me. “There. We are no longer visible to anyone. We’re in my shadow land. No one can hear us.”

  “You’re sure?” I ask.

  “I am.”

  “Good. How long can you keep this up?”

  “My shadow land?” she asks.

  I nod.

  “The longest I’ve gone is a part and a half, but it left me unable to function well for an entire rotation afterward. It works best for a half a part.”

  An hour and a half at most—that’s not as much time as I’d hoped. I lift my chin. “You said you could get things—things we need.”

  “I’m good at getting things. My gift of obscurity makes it ridiculously easy.”

  “That’s perfect. We have to collect everything we need for the journey to Earth.”

  “So, we’re still leaving,” she says, her shoulders round in relief.

  “Yes. We’re leaving. It will be really dangerous, though. I’ll be hunted. If you’re with me, you’ll be hunted too. If you don’t think you can handle it, tell me now and I’ll come up with a different plan that doesn’t include you.”

  “I’ll handle it. I want out too, maybe more than you.”

  “Why?” I ask.

  “I’ve never been free. This little time I’ve spent here is the freest I’ve ever been and you seem to think it’s a prison. I want to know what it’s like to really be free—to answer to nothing and no one.”

  “I can give you that”—I lean my head to the side—“sort of. Earth has its own rules. It’s not easy there either.”

  “Nothing worth having is easy,” she replies.

  “So you’re in?”

  “I’m in.”

  “Let’s brainstorm then. What do we need?” I ask myself, thinking of traversing the Forest of Omnicron and all that that entails. “We need a way to travel without detection. Everyone will be looking for us.”

  “Every vehicle I know of has a heat signature. They’re easy to track.”

  “Think of something that has the smallest heat signature.”

  She’s quiet for a moment. Keenan walks out onto the terrace and looks around with mild concern. “A flipcart,” Phlix murmurs. “They leave almost no trail. I can get them easily.”

  “Can you teach me how to ride one?”

  She smiles. “You mean you haven’t ridden a flipcart?”

  “I know. Shocking.”

  “Kricket,” Keenan calls out, turning in circles on the balcony, looking for me. I ignore him.

  I tell Phlix, “We need food that we can carry, some medical supplies, water, one outfit—versatile—shoes that we can run in, not these torture devices.” I lift my skirt hem up to show her the intricate footwear that makes me have to almost point my toes.

  “They’re so lovely, though,” she says. “Are they Gurtrone?”

  “I—who cares?” I reply. “We each need one of those things that Strikers use to breathe underwater.” I mime shoving a breathing apparatus in my mouth. “Something that will help us survive the portal to Earth.”

  Her forehead furrows in concentration. “You want a tankoid?”

  “If it’s the thing you put in your mouth that’s attached to a small cylinder that lets you breathe underwater, then yes, I want a tankoid.”

  “Okay. That might be hard to get, though.”

  “See what you can do,” I tell her. I may be an okay swimmer now, but I know my limits. Having oxygen in the massive current that will drag us through a wormhole to Earth ups our likelihood of survival, and unlike the Cavars, I have no qualms about using Etharian technology here or on Earth.

  “We’ll need rock climbing equipment.”

  She shakes her head. “Not if we have flipcarts. They levitate. They can take us straight up.”

  I rub my forehead. “Cavars are insane! You know that, right?” Then I say to myself, “Rappelling cliffs that they can just use a flipcart to descend! I am so over it!”

  Keenan runs past us in a panic, yelling, “Kricket!” He disappears around the bend in the balcony.

  I point at Phlix. “You need inoculations. You’ve never been exposed to the kind of diseases that are on Earth. I can’t have you dying on me.”

  “I’ll get what I need. It’s going to cost, though, and take some time.”

  “How much time?”

  “I don’t know,” she says. “I need to develop a contact among the security team. They seem to have the greatest access in and out of here.”

  “Do you need money?” I ask.

  “Yes. I have none.”

  “Will people barter for things?” I ask.

  “Maybe.”

  “There’s so much stuff here that probably won’t be missed for a while, if ever. I’ll give you some things that look valuable. Work on getting your vaccines first. We don’t leave until you get vaccinated, okay?”

  “Okay. I’ll let you know,” Phlix agrees. We both pause for a moment and look out over the grounds. “We’re really doing this.”

  “Yes,” I say. “Just you and me.”

  “You’re not planning on anyone else joining us?”

  “No,” I reply softly. “It’ll be just us.”

  “I don’t even know what it’ll be like not having someone decide every aspect of my future,” she says.

  “It will be epic,” I reply and find that I really mean it. I hear Keenan’s pounding feet coming from around the bend of the balcony again. “You can unshadow us now.”

  “Done,” she breathes.

  Keenan rounds the balcony at a sprint. He slows when he sees us turn to face him. “I was looking for you,” he pants.

  I manage to look confused. “Did you need something?” I ask.

  “Kyon asked me to remind you of your date this evening. He thinks you should return to your room to dress for it.”

  “Thanks, Keenan,” I say. “Maybe you can show me the way there?”

  “Of course.”

  Turning to Phlix, I ask, “Do you need anything from me before I go?”

  “Yes,” she smiles defiantly. “Can you say good-bye to Pike for me if you happen to see him?”

  It’s in this moment that I know that we’ll be friends for as long as we draw breath. “It would be my pleasure,” I reply.

  “Thank you, Kricket,” she says. We walk to the door of her apartment, and she hugs me farewell at the threshold.

  The trip back to my room is uneventful. When we arrive, Keenan precedes me into the suite. He checks around, and I’m surprised to find that Kyon isn’t there. For some reason I thought he would be. Keenan leaves, and I consult Oscil on what I should wear. I change, and when I’m attired in a soft coral-colored dress, I brush my hair and leave it loose. After waiting for more than an hour for Kyon, I decide not to hang out in my room any longer. I leave and go exploring. Walking the garden level, I slip outside and follow the path along the house. I like this perspective, looking through the glass at what’s inside.

  Dusk begins to settle on the grounds. Soft lighting coming from one of the rooms along the walkway draws my attention. I see a flickering fire on the far wall facing me. Above it, two crossed swords burn bright with reflected firelight on their steel edges. I touch the handle of a glass door and it opens without me turning it. Kyon is in a large emerald-colored chair by the fire, its gleaming covered buttons make it somehow regal.

  I traverse the rune-embroidered carpet. The plank floor creaks as I step on a loose board. The warmth of the lazy fire dances over my s
kin, drawing me closer to it. I come up to Kyon, but he doesn’t look at me. His hand loosely clutches something. A small, glass hoof sticks out from his fist. I don’t say a word but perch on the matching green chair adjacent to his and watch him. He’s completely oblivious to my presence. It’s as if he’s not here himself.

  I test my theory. First, I rise from my seat and go to his. Then I run my fingertips softly down his dark blue shirtsleeve. The fabric is warm beneath my touch. Kyon doesn’t blink; the firelight burns a reflection in his eyes. The dry heat caresses my skin as I slip between Kyon’s knees and stand directly in front of him. My shadow falls over his eyes. No reaction. He stares ahead as if I’m not here. Reaching out, I touch his cheek and course the back of my knuckles over it. I realize that I can kill him with my bare hands right now, because for whatever reason, he can’t stop me.

  Lowering myself onto his lap, I curl up and rest my forehead against the cogs of time interlocking a path on his tattooed throat. My eyes fall on the object protruding from his fist. Grasping his hand, I try to ease it open. I can’t. I wait instead.

  I know the instant Kyon returns. Electricity runs through me. He inhabits his skin with a gentle buildup of steps. He’s nothing if not control. His muscles tighten. He turns his cheek in confusion; it bumps lightly against the top of my head. I feel him working out the fact that I’m sitting on his lap. His arms bow away from me at first, but then they drift back, wrapping around me. His lips find the top of my head again. He kisses me, breathing against my hair.

  My fingertips skim over his closed hand. I gently pry his fingers apart. Sharp points poke my skin. Warm, smooth glass weighs heavy in my hand as I take the object from him. I lift it up. In my open palm is a crystal spix, exactly like the one I’d rescued from Charisma’s collection of Crystal Clear Moments. The inanimate equine sparkles in the firelight.

  “So you’re like me?” I ask him. “A genetically engineered freak?”

  “I like to think of myself as exceptional.”

  I gather a few strands of his hair in my hand. Using the sharp edge of the crystal spix’s horns, I cut his hair. The severed pieces shrivel to ashes while new hair regrows in an instant. I blow the ash from my palm. It floats toward the glowing logs.

  “He doesn’t know, does he?” I ask.