Ignite the Stars

by Maura Milan

  “What are you doing?”

  He flipped up all the switches, the lights around her glowing up out of the shadows.

  “Giving you the chance to prove it.”

  Ia reached up, her fingertips grazing against the thick glass above. Everywhere she looked, the All Black surrounded her, like a warm hug from an old friend.

  The black tapestry sparkled with pinpoints of starlight floating in the distance.

  Ia’s lips curled into a smile. She was home.

  Once they breached the upper atmosphere, Knives disengaged the thrusters, the roar dying down around her.

  “You still have time to back out, to save yourself the embarrassment,” he said.

  Ia leaned her head against the headrest. “Knives, for me, this isn’t even a challenge.”

  He scoffed in disbelief. “Yeah, yeah. Let’s get started.”

  She held her bound hands up. “This would be easier without my handcuffs.”

  Knives saw right through that. “You can manage,” he replied.

  Ia shrugged and swiveled forward. She centered herself in the driver seat as Knives hovered the starjet into position, aimed at a strip of wide, empty space.

  “You should be able to hit max acceleration in no time with this baby,” Ia said. “The question is, how long can you maintain the speed?”

  Behind her, buttons clicked and meters beeped as Knives lined everything up, surely and swiftly.

  She placed her fingertips along the middle of the steering wheel, feeling the engine hum. The gauges flittered to life as Knives eased onto the throttle, and the front thrusters kicked in.

  Acceleration pushed against her body. The stars in the distance shifted from sharp pinpoints to blurs of light bleeding into black.

  Deus, this ship was fast.

  The engine revved up, and Knives engaged the rear thrusters. Ia cringed as she felt a slight jolt underneath her feet. The engine was struggling, being forced, instead of flowing into its cycle.

  She turned to face him. “You’re advancing the front throttle too quickly. It’s throwing your acceleration cycle off.”

  Knives furrowed his brow. “I’m telling you, with an updated MOS and processor, I’ll be able to monitor the cycle better.”

  She waved his response off. “That’s just being lazy. Let’s do another run, and I’ll tell you when to punch the throttle.”

  “Front and rear engines on,” Knives voiced to the MOS. He gunned the front thrusters, and she felt the familiar pulse of speed rush through her veins.

  If it were any other time, the two of them would be in different starjets trying to blast each other into oblivion. A criminal and a Bug. But now, together they were just two pilots trying to answer an age-old question: How could they go faster?

  Even though the engines were made of thousands of precisely cut parts, fine-tuned by engineers, each had its own personality. “Your engines have a higher pitched hum at the exact moment you should move on to the next thruster.”

  Through the metal frame, the engine whistled as it approached its peak.

  “All right,” she said. “Now!”

  Knives pulled on the throttle, and with another surge, the starjet shot forward, pushing her back into her seat. The propulsion was heavenly. She felt it in her flesh. So smooth, with so much power. It was perfect.

  She glanced over her shoulder. She laughed, seeing the energized grin on his face, and her eyes met his. “Your turn.”

  A small smile flickered onto his lips, one of childish glee.

  Ia closed her eyes, shutting out everything except for the chatter of the engine. It started with a murmur of gears, of compression and building pressure. Until finally the engine itself sang out.

  Now.

  Knives triggered the afterburner, and the ship catapulted forward.

  She sat back, her blood pulsing through her veins, feeling the thrill of the ride.

  By the time she opened her eyes, Knives was already navigating them back to Aphelion.

  Ia’s heart ached at the thought of returning.

  Out here, there were no strings holding them down. She scanned the blackness around her, orienting herself to the stars. In the distance, a light pulsed like a beacon. An interstellar gate, unmarked so she didn’t know which one it was. But it was so close.

  If only they could keep going, flying faster and faster into infinity. Don’t stop, she wanted to say. Her lips molded around each syllable, but her voice was caught in her chest. She knew Knives would never grant her that wish, so there was no point in saying it.

  CHAPTER 26

  BRINN

  “YOU LOOK LIKE MUNG,” Angie said, grabbing Brinn after dinner Monday evening. “Ia problems?”

  Brinn rubbed her knuckles against her eyes. It wasn’t Ia problems, but Brinn nodded anyway just so Angie wouldn’t ask any questions. Brinn’s meeting with the headmaster had stressed her out, and remarkably, Ia was the one who’d helped her through it. After everything that had happened last week, all Brinn had wanted to do was curl up in her room and sleep, and that’s exactly what she’d done—all weekend long. Apparently, it wasn’t enough to wipe away the deep stress lines digging in between her eyebrows.

  “Did you know Ia set fire to a whole Olympus comms station last year?” Angie rambled on. “The new colonies didn’t get supplies for weeks. It was legit on the media. She would give me nightmares.”

  “She’s not all bad,” Brinn said, suddenly aware that she was coming to Ia’s defense.

  Angie gaped at her in shock.

  Brinn shrugged one shoulder as casually as she could. “She’s been teaching me how to win at Goma.”

  “The game old grandpas play?” It was meant as a question, but Angie’s voice was very high, very sharp.

  Brinn turned away, not wanting to see the judgment in Angie’s eyes.

  “Oh, Brinn, she’s torturing you!”

  “I think you have the wrong definition of torture. Besides, it’s kinda fun.”

  “And I think you have the wrong definition of fun,” Angie replied. Her eyelashes fluttered as an idea took hold. “Come on. I know how we can fix that.”

  Angie took Brinn’s hand and tugged her through the halls until they lined up behind a group of cadets swarming into the First Year common room.

  As they walked in, Angie waved hello to a few passing cadets, most of them boys, and found a free space on one of the couches. She sat down, motioning for Brinn to join her. Brinn stood there, staring at the empty seat before Angie pulled her down beside her.

  A floating bev machine drifted by, and Angie held out a hand to stop it. “Two caffeines.”

  The machine produced two bottles from the drop chute in its center. Angie took a bottle of the orange beverage and handed the other to Brinn. Brinn took a sip and scanned the room. A handful of engineering cadets were having a debate about engine mechanics on another couch. In the middle of the room, Cammo gripped a Poddi, a compact blue force field ball, and tried to find a free person to toss it to.

  “Over here,” Liam called out nearby.

  Hearing his voice, Brinn’s eyes darted over to him. He stood by the long communal table where a group of female cadets, including Reid from their teamwork test, watched rapt with attention.

  Cammo launched the Poddi, accidentally arching it too far. Liam had to sprint to the front of the room to catch it. As he turned to head back to the rest of his group, his eyes locked on to Brinn’s.

  Exactly 2.3 seconds, she counted. That was how long it took to break away from his gaze, which was one full second too long based on her natural reaction speeds. There was something about him that always slowed her down. By the time she glanced back up, Liam was already at Cammo’s side, listening to another one of his jokes.

  “All the girls are talking about him,” Angie said, drawing out the words like they were taffy. “Liam Vyking is such a flooder.”

  Brinn furrowed her brow as she tried to figure out what Angie meant.

 
; Angie sighed, realizing Brinn’s confusion. “That means he’s nice to look at, like he’s flooding your heart.”

  Brinn watched Angie’s gaze hover over Liam, and she felt a strange weight creep into her chest. Every boy in the world was in love with Angie; all she had to do was take her pick.

  Then Angie’s eyes shifted over to Cammo. “Honestly, I think his friend is way better.”

  Brinn relaxed.

  “Go for another one,” Cammo yelled as the Poddi zoomed overhead. Brinn’s eyes followed its trajectory as it arched over Liam’s head.

  A hand came up, lithe and golden.

  All at once, the room quieted. Ia Cōcha stood in the doorframe, palming the Poddi in her right hand. “Can I play?” she called across the room.

  Cammo drew out a wide and undiscerning grin. “Sure.”

  And with that one word, the tension in the room ebbed away just a little bit. Everyone turned back to their own conversations. Ia tossed the ball back and forth with Cammo while Liam took a seat at the communal table among the same group of girls who were fawning over him.

  A news program played on the screens floating in the center of the room. Mug shots flashed on the displays. They were the Tawnies captured the same night the Commonwealth took down Ia Cōcha. The group was on trial for harboring a wanted criminal as well as opening fire on Star Force officers.

  Around them, Brinn heard people’s whispers as they passed their own judgments.

  “They should rot in jail for firing on us,” someone said.

  “They’re refs. They don’t even have rights,” said another.

  Guilty was the word she heard repeated the most.

  Brinn glanced over at Ia to gauge her reaction, but she was too busy dazzling Cammo with a fancy-looking Poddi move to notice.

  Onscreen, the news anchor stared into the lens with a neutral expression. “The trial has shed light on the refugee crisis within Olympus’s borders, spurring an outcry for action.”

  The news program cut to recorded footage of a man standing at the podium. He had graying brown hair and was dressed in a silken black Commonwealth jacket, one that all government officials wore, except that this jacket had golden rope looped on the shoulders.

  Beside her, Angie groaned. “My dad’s on the media again.”

  “That’s him?” Brinn asked. “So he got elected to the Council?”

  Angie crossed her arms, slouching low in her seat. “Yeah, and Nero’s been a massive mung about it. My dad and his uncle are on opposing sides.” She rolled her eyes, spying Nero crossing the room.

  “Hey, Everett, didn’t know your family was leftist trash,” Nero called as he passed by.

  Angie made a face that Brinn had never seen before. “Just because my dad doesn’t want to get rid of the Sanctuary Act doesn’t mean he’s a radical, Nero.”

  The Sanctuary Act protected the refugees that had been affected by the Uranium War. It established refugee blocks in all the major city centers within Olympus, giving them a safe place to live within the Commonwealth if they chose it. If the act was repealed, the blocks would be eradicated and the refugees deported. To where, no one really knew.

  Above them, a montage of footage splayed across the screen. A huge protest filled the streets in front of the Council House. “No more refs! No more mungbringers!” the people chanted as they held long, wooden poles above their heads. Makeshift dolls swung side to side, hanging off the tips of the poles from nooses. The dolls bore the blue hair of the Tawnies, or the silver markings of the Dvvinn, or the pointed ears of the Juorti. All refugee nations of the Commonwealth. The discrimination against the Tawnies was most noticeable in the crowd, with the word mungbringer stamped on several protest signs. While the footage played on, the room quieted as more eyes focused upon the screen.

  A flash of blue flew through the air in a blur. The Poddi smashed into the bulb of the central holoprojector. The screens distorted and then blinked out.

  “Oh, come on,” groaned Nero.

  “Oops,” Ia said flatly. She stood with her arms crossed, her eyes simmering as they passed over the room. “My hand slipped.”

  Nero stepped forward. A handful of cadets gathered behind him. “You’re just mad because no matter how hard you try, you’ll never be able to save them. And no one else is stupid enough to think they deserve saving.”

  Ia narrowed her eyes, her neck muscles tensing. Brinn sized up the group. If a fight broke out, it would be seven against one. Ia was outnumbered, but Brinn was sure Ia would still win. Because Angie was right. Ia was the source of nightmares. There was no way a handful of tyro cadets would stand a chance against her.

  But instead of throwing the first punch, Ia Cōcha left the room.

  Brinn stormed after her, her anger growing with every step.

  Why couldn’t Ia just stay out of trouble? Maybe even blend in for a change? That was something Brinn did every day of her life. In a way, Ia reminded Brinn of her mother. Stubborn. Headstrong. Pride bursting from her pores. They were both so infuriating.

  Brinn expected the room to be trashed, but instead found Ia in the bathroom calmly washing her face.

  “Why’d you do that?” Brinn demanded.

  Ia angled her head, her face still dripping wet. “Do what?”

  “Make a scene.”

  Ia grabbed a towel. “That was not a scene. You realize I could have snapped that kid’s neck, right?”

  “And you want points for that?”

  Ia shrugged.

  “You still broke the holoscreens.” Brinn crossed her arms. “You know people actually wanted to watch what was on.”

  “That trial is just a bunch of propaganda.” Ia snorted as she flopped onto her bed.

  After everything that had happened today, Brinn wasn’t in the mood to hear one of Ia’s conspiracy theories.

  “It’s not propaganda,” she replied. “It’s called justice. They shot down our officers. The footage speaks for itself.”

  Brinn replayed the images in her head, of the Tawnies on that ship gunning down Star Force officers. She had seen it over and over again on the daily news streams. It was even used in the RSF recruitment videos.

  “You think the Commonwealth would ever show themselves shooting first?” Ia scoffed. “Those Tawnies were just defending themselves. I would know. I was there.”

  “You’re lying,” Brinn hissed.

  “I’ll prove it.” Ia held her hand out. “Give me your holopad.”

  Brinn wanted to laugh out loud. What kind of proof could she possibly have? Brinn glared at her defiantly as she handed Ia her holopad. Ia undid the backing and grabbed one of the wires, linking into the input at the base of her head. Her eyes shifted back and forth as if she was trying to find something, eyelids fluttering rapidly, until finally she unplugged the wire and handed back Brinn’s holopad.

  Brinn glanced onto her home screen. There was a new file, sitting at the bottom of the display.

  “What’s this?”

  “A recording.” Ia’s eyes rose. “Of the day I was captured.”

  Brinn tapped on it, and a holoscreen projected into the space in front of her. The footage was from Ia’s point of view. She saw gray, rusted walls, the same background as the media footage she had become so familiar with. There was no gunfight. Not yet. But she knew it was coming. She waited for the first Tawny to load his weapon, but none of them seemed to be armed. That didn’t make any sense. The Tawnies were the ones who fired first.

  Hypnotized, Brinn watched as the Star Force officers charged into the rusty metal ship. She watched as General Adams walked down the line of Tawnies. Then watched as he grabbed at one of them, a boy a couple years younger than her, and pointed a gun right at his skull.

  Brinn’s eyes widened in horror. She looked down as the rest of the scene played out, staring at the smooth metal on the floor. She heard Ia’s voice defending them, then the screams, the gunfire. Until she’d had enough. She swiped the screen away and stopped the recording.<
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  Across the room, Ia watched her. “Believe me now?”

  It was a fake, Brinn tried to tell herself. Over and over again. But she couldn’t get past the image of the general raising his weapon. It was as if he was pointing his gun at her, ready to shatter the world she lived in.

  “Why would you show me that?” she asked angrily.

  “Because you need to start asking questions,” Ia answered. “The Commonwealth doesn’t care about the Tawny refugees. And that trial…it’s all for show, Tarver. A clever setup just to get the Sanctuary Act repealed and all the refugees out.”

  Her words were like a sandstorm, each speckle of dust finding cracks and crevices upon a seemingly polished veneer. It painted a picture of a different truth, one that Brinn refused to see.

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m a Citizen. I’ll be safe.” She said it, but it was more for herself than for Ia. A repeal would only affect the refugees who’ve claimed sanctuary in Olympus. She was a Tawny, but she wasn’t a refugee.

  “You think that matters? You already said it yourself. People hate the Tawnies.” Ia shook her head as if she was through explaining. “Do I have to crack that thick skull of yours for you to get it? Once that act is repealed, they’ll come for you next.”

  Brinn’s mouth opened, but the words didn’t come. She sank down onto her bed. Putting on her earbuds, she turned on a random music stream. The song that was on was light and saccharine, but it did nothing to ease her mood. No matter how hard she tried to ignore it, one foul question circled over and over in her mind: What if Ia was right?

  CHAPTER 27

  KNIVES

  THEY WERE FALLING ASLEEP. During his lecture. The series, called Mapping the Star Systems, was meant to educate the cadets about all of the existing Commonwealth territories. There were a lot of lists, a lot of coordinates, a lot of memorization. All useful information.

  But also very boring. Knives remembered this class when he was a cadet. He’d fallen asleep during this lecture block as well.

  The weekly evening class was a requirement for all academy First Years, which meant the auditorium was full of drooping eyelids. A deep, gurgly snore interrupted one of his sentences, not intentional, since everyone was too fast asleep to even laugh.