Circus Galacticus

by Deva Fagan

  "So why can't we trigger a bunch of them to get all the leeches off ?"

  Toothy's grin fades.

  "They have a few side effects," says Nola. "We're working on it."

  "What kind of side effects?"

  "Well, the worst part is that the energy burst upsets the Big Top's jump system," says Nola. "So we wouldn't be able to jump for at least six hours. It also gives everyone hiccups. We're really not sure why that is."

  "So only use it in a real emergency. Everybody got all that?" Theon crosses her arms, looking more than a little like Miss Three. "Good; let's go blast some leeches."

  A hiss of decompressing air raises goose bumps along my arms. This is it. In a moment, I'm going to be in space. No glass, no screen; only a thin layer of some wacky alien super-fabric between me and the universe. Okay, so I'll be spending the morning pulling giant leeches off the hull. But I'll be in space! I'm going to fly!

  I start to bob as the pull of the ship's artificial gravity ebbs away. Theon and Ghost fly out into the void, followed by Sirra, Etander, and Toothy. With the underwater grace of a humpback, Gravalon Pree dives smoothly through the door, executing an elaborate curvette as he heads off along one finlike ridge of the ship's hull.

  Nola pauses, clinging one-handed to the exit, to look back at me. She's saying something. I rap at my helmet. "Hey, Britannica! I turned you on for a reason. Come on, give me a link to everyone else."

  "I beg your pardon," comes the voice of my know-it-all. "I thought you said to be quiet. I was trying to oblige."

  "Nola, I want to hear. You, I want quiet. I'm going to hear too much about that stupid show as it is." I stifle a groan. I have got to figure out a way to deal with that thing. It took some serious bribery to get it to do what I wanted this morning.

  "And you won't regret it!" shrills my know-it-all. "We are going to have such a good time watching the marathon! But have a care with those leeches, dear. You've enough of a challenge with that hair. You certainly don't need a sucker scar to worry about."

  "Okay, okay, I'll be careful. Now, patch me through."

  "—you going to be okay?" Nola's voice comes through so loudly it's like she's right inside my helmet.

  "Piece of cake!" I give her a thumbs-up in case the translator doesn't know how to handle that. It's true. I really feel good about this. For as long as I can remember, my sleep has been full of flying dreams. I've probably spent half my nights swooping over trees and into the clouds. I figure it might even have been part of my Tinker-touch. Maybe all those dreams were preparing me for this.

  I pat the slight bulge along my side where the rock lies tucked in the pocket of my shirt, under the tinfoil spacesuit. It's not only the rock that got me here. I am special. This is what my parents were trained for. This was what I was born for. Space.

  Gripping the handholds of my spacewings, I give the thrusters a trial burst. For one glorious moment I'm perfect, an eagle, a comet in the night. Then one wing dips. My hands clench instinctively. Suddenly I'm rocketing forward, careening past Nola and out into space.

  It's like flying twelve kites at once in a hurricane. I swing my arms around, trying desperately to stop myself. All I accomplish is turning my flight into an end-over-end tumble. I feel like I left my stomach back on the ship.

  Finally I steady myself and come around into a shaky glide. Nola flies over to join me. "Are you okay?" She looks a little green herself, but at least she's staying right-side up.

  "Yeah. Just getting a feel for these things." I give the thrusters a gentle tap, enough to keep up with Nola.

  "You're doing great. Much better than my first time. Come on, our section is this way."

  I grit my teeth, struggling to stay with Nola as she heads off along the rippling red striped hull of the Big Top. So much for my fabulous inborn talent for flying. I'm barely holding my course steady, and it's not like Nola's a speed demon.

  But by the time we reach the tail section, I'm a little more confident. I swoop along the ridges and up into the emptiness beyond, trying to get a glimpse of the entire massive ship. Now that I can see it, the Big Top reminds me of some weird undersea creature, like a jellyfish or maybe a pudgy squid. With red stripes.

  "Trix, don't go too far!" Nola's voice echoes in my ear. "Remember what Theon said. Anyway, I found some leeches. We'd better get to work."

  Reluctantly, I fly back. Nola has already clamped her magnetized boots onto the hull and is hard at work pulling on something that looks like a giant purplish-gray slug. The thing narrows, stretching like a piece of taffy.

  It pops free. "Take that!" Nola says, directing her blaster at the leech. It twitches in a halo of crackling blue light, then drifts off into space. She turns to me as I land. "Did you see how I did it? You have to be careful when they let go; that's when they're liable to attack. Want to try one yourself ?" She gestures to the hull on either side. About a dozen more leeches have clamped onto the Big Top. The smallest is as long as my forearm. The largest is almost as big as I am.

  As we work, Nola chatters away, telling me stories about life on the Big Top. Considering I'm prying giant leeches off a spaceship, I'm having a great time. It's funny; when the Ringmaster offered me this shot at joining the circus, I thought the best thing would be space itself. And it is pretty freaking spectacular. Right now I can look up at that dome of stars and know—not just hope—that they're full of life. It's a feeling I can't even put into words. Mom and Dad would have understood it.

  But you know what else is just as freaking spectacular? Nola. Here she is, telling me her stories, inviting me into her life like I'm her sister or something, not a random pink-haired tagalong from a boondock galaxy. I'm not all that used to people being nice to me. Pretty much everything that's made me happy since I lost my folks has been something I've made or grabbed for myself.

  Nola also fills me in on what she's learned about last night's unplanned jump. Turns out it was a gravity anomaly. And guess what? Our new course means we're headed for Hasoo-Pashtung next. Sirra is definitely up to something.

  "That's the last of these," says Nola, watching the remnants of the largest leech drift away. She heaves a sigh. "I guess we'd better fly over to the other side and check there, too. I hope I make it without getting sick."

  Poor Nola. From the look on her face, I don't think she's exaggerating the danger. There must be something I can do to make this easier on her. "How about you stay here?" I say. "I'll go check it out and come back. No sense in you making yourself sick if there's nothing there."

  "Are you sure? It's your first time out on spacewings. And what about Sirra?"

  "Positive. I'm practically an expert with these things now, and Sirra's at the other end of the ship. Be back in a flash."

  "Okay. Thanks, Trix. But keep the link open. Call if you need help."

  I wave, then set off over the ridge to the next valley. Finding it leech-free, I move on, winging up away from the hull to get a better view.

  I spot a cluster of leeches. There aren't too many, and the biggest is only about two feet long. "Hey, Nola," I say into the link. "I found a few more, but I can handle them. You stay there, and I'll be back when I'm done. Okay? Nola?"

  I tap my helmet. "Nola? Can you hear me?" I wait for a long, silent moment. "Hey, Britannica, want to fill me in on what the space pirate Zendalos has been up to?"

  Something is definitely wrong. I better head back, before Nola gets worried.

  A web of blue light springs up in front of me. I backwing into a somersault, but the blue light is everywhere, caging me in. I pull free my blaster.

  "Nola!" I shout into the link. "Something's happening! I need help!"

  "Your friend can't hear you." A familiar voice crackles in my ear. I never thought I'd miss that screechy know-it-all, but right now I'd take all the Love Among the Stars factoids in the universe over this voice. "I suggest you not attempt to escape the energy cage. You will find the experience both futile and rather painful."

  I whi
rl around. The tip of one spacewing brushes against the interlacing blue light. "Aaaagggh!" I curl against the agony that tears into me. My fingers spasm. The blaster flies free, spinning off beyond the curved wall of my prison.

  "As I said."

  My hot breath fogs my helmet as I turn, searching for him. There. Nyl floats a few yards beyond my cage. His batlike spacewings blot out the stars.

  "What do you want?" I demand.

  "To talk."

  "Right. You're one of the Mandate, and all you want is a chat? Next you'll be inviting me in for tea and cookies."

  "I see he's gotten to you already with his fairy tales." Nyl drifts closer. Starlight gleams on his mask as he tilts his head. "Don't be so quick to assume you know who is the villain and who is the shining hero."

  "Call me crazy, but I'm going to say the villain is the guy who keeps attacking me."

  "I am trying to help you. You are on a dangerous path, and if you don't turn back now, you will be lost forever. It may even be too late."

  "Thanks for the oh-so-helpful warning, but I'm right where I want to be."

  "This isn't a joke! I know the lies the Ringmaster trades in, but you must not believe them. You don't belong here."

  "I do, too! He said it himself! He said I'm—"

  "Of course," cuts in Nyl. He sighs. "Listen to me, Beatrix. I understand how bewitching that can be. The idea that you are somehow better than others. That you are shaped for some brilliant future. Others may toil and scrabble in menial occupation and mundane lives, but not you, never you. You are... special."

  On his lips it sounds like a curse.

  "Have you ever considered the pain that proceeds from disparity, from difference? You've seen it on your own planet. The wars fought over the color of one's skin or the choice of one's god. That is what comes of this. Is that what you want?"

  "Of course not!" I protest. "But you're twisting it all up! I'm not saying I'm better than anyone. I mean, even if I am, I'm not saying they should ... aaagh! Look, I'm not a lawyer. I can't make it sound all pretty and convincing, but I know you're wrong. That isn't what the Ringmaster is about."

  "You seem to think yourself an expert on the Ringmaster. Do not be so certain you know the truth. How much of his precious ship has he even allowed you to see? You don't belong here."

  "Yes I do!" My voice rises like a little kid's. "My parents were Tinker-touched, and so am I. This is where I belong!"

  "Is that what he told you?"

  "Yes!" I snap, even as a part of my brain sifts through the words cluttering my memory. Had he said it? Or only let me think it?

  "He deceives you. He does it to protect you, but he only makes you weak. Come with me now." Nyl drifts closer to my cage and extends one arm. The blue fire pulls back, allowing his gray-gloved fingers to slip past. He holds out his hand. "Abandon this folly. Let us cleanse you of the taint before it destroys you. Let me show you that you need not cover your life in spangles and glitter for it to be something glorious. Something happy. I promise you this, Beatrix. If you stay on this ship, it will break your heart."

  "You're wrong." The words tear out of my tight throat. I spin around, searching the remorselessly empty sky. Maybe I can force my way through the web, take the pain, and hope I don't black out before I'm free. "I'm staying here. I belong here." I ignore his outstretched hand.

  He is silent for so long, holding that pose, I wonder if maybe I've found a way to freeze time. When he finally does speak, it's like a whip crack on my nerves.

  "How unfortunate. We had hoped you would come willingly." He balls his fist and pulls it back out of the blue-fire cage. "But willingly or not, you will come."

  The orb of light begins to shift, to float upward, away from the Big Top. Crackles of agony dance along my arms as I try and fail to stay away from the walls. I want to scream, not from pain but from frustration. If only I hadn't dropped the stupid blaster, I might be able to fight back!

  Wait. I'm not completely defenseless. And we're still close enough to the ship that it might work! I grab the leech beacon from my belt. Punching the button, I throw it as hard as I can, right at Nyl.

  He grunts as it catches him in the midsection. The flash of light makes me look away. An odd, fizzy feeling runs along my skin.

  "Beatrix, you must—hic—" he begins. Then the leeches are on him. He disappears under a writhing mass of gray-purple. The blue web winks out. I spread my spacewings and take off.

  As I speed over the next ridge, I catch sight of two other white-clad shapes winging toward me. Static crackles in my ear, followed immediately by Nola's voice. "—happened? Trix, are you—hic—okay?"

  "Nola? I'm—hic—all right. Can you hear me?"

  "Thank the First Tinker! When I saw the—hic— leech beacon go off and you didn't answer, I thought ... well, it was—hic—horrible, so I'm not even going to say it. Are you—hic—sure you're okay?"

  "What happened?" asks Theon. "Did you—hic— get leeched?"

  "No."

  "Then why did you set off the—hic—leech beacon?"

  "There was a Mandate ship. The same—hic—one, from Earth. Over there."

  Theon takes off over the ridge, holding her blaster ready. I follow.

  There's nothing. No ship, no dark-winged Mandate agent. Not even any leeches.

  "He's gone!"

  "Are you sure he was here?" Theon soars up away from the hull to survey nearby space.

  "I didn't—hic—imagine it! He was here! He was trying—" I cut myself off. My body feels like I just put it through a round in the Arena at level bazillion. And that's nothing compared to the crazy thoughts battering my brain. I won't believe it. I can't.

  "Trying what?" asks Nola.

  "It was lies," I say, my voice cracking. "Only— hic—lies."

  CHAPTER 13

  Restricted Area

  THEY DON'T HATE YOU," says Nola. We're heading for the common room, several days after the de-leeching incident. "It all worked out okay. It didn't slow us down—very much—and everyone stopped hic-cuping yesterday."

  A rumble like a distant rockslide echoes along the corridor. "Everyone except Gravalon Pree," amends Nola. "But at least they're not calling you Supernova anymore."

  "Right. And Leechbomb is so much better," I say. "You're the only one who isn't acting like I'm insane." Toothy hustles past, glaring at me with sleepy, dark-circled eyes. I can't really blame him. He's Gravalon Pree's roommate. "Or giving me the evil eye."

  "If you say you saw a Mandate ship, I believe you. There's a lot of strange stuff going on around here lately."

  "Coming through!"

  We plaster ourselves against the wall as Jom and Frex come barreling along the hallway, whooping and juggling a pair of fluffy lavender slippers between them as they go.

  One of the Principals thunders after them, bellowing, "Give them back, you idiots!" He makes a lunge for Frex, who leaps clear at the last moment: onto the ceiling. He races onward, upside down, and doesn't even skip a beat juggling. The slippers continue sailing back and forth between him and Jom.

  A crowd follows after them, shouting encouragement to both sides and uniformly ridiculing the slippers. Catching Nola's eye, I can't help but laugh. "Only lately?"

  As the mob rampages away down the hall, Nola lifts a hand to adjust her know-it-all. "The recycling system? Are you sure?" She shudders. "I hope this isn't going to involve a visit to Rjool's lair. No, it's fine, I'll check it out." She straightens her shoulders and sighs.

  "Trouble?"

  "A Tech's work is never done. You'd better go on without me. This shouldn't take long, but the marathon starts in ten minutes, and you don't want to miss the recap show or you'll be completely lost. I'll catch up with you in the common room." With a hasty wave, Nola sets off back down the hallway, leaving me alone. Or nearly alone.

  "Don't you worry about getting lost, dear," chimes my know-it-all. "I've got all fifteen seasons indexed by character name, key plot points, and location. I've also c
ross-referenced every costume item to the appropriate mercantile dynasty and catalogue, customized to your size and coloring. I think you'd look lovely in this blue number Dalana wears in season eleven, episode five."

  I blink as the viewscreen scrolls open in front of my eye, displaying a hideous monstrosity of skintight skirts and hugely puffed sleeves. "Isn't that gorgeous?" burbles my know-it-all. "It's from the scene where Dalana confronts Zendalos at the Governance Ball and discovers the true identity of—"

  "Over my dead body." I continue along the corridor.

  "Really? I do think it's more suited to a ball than a funeral, but of course it's your choice. I'll update your registered last will and testament as soon as I can contact Core Legal Records Bureau."

  "I have a will?"

  "Oh, yes. Birth certification, school records, everything. Of course it's all forgery; part of the Ringmaster's false identity protocol, since you're actually a heathen from the Excluded Territories. No, dear, not that way!"

  "Isn't the common room this way?"

  "Heavens, no. You should have gone left at the last intersection. This is a restricted area."

  I study the hallway before me. It looks like all the rest: curving, gray-brown, lit by recessed orange lights. The flattened remains of a box labeled FRAGILE lean against one wall, the apparent victim of a compaction. "Why is it restricted? Is it dangerous?"

  "That information is restricted."

  "Says who?"

  "That information is restricted."

  "And you call yourself a know-it-all."

  "I do know it all," says the device. "I just don't tell it all."

  I'm about to return to the unrestricted corridor when Nyl's words whisper from my memory. How much of his precious ship has he even allowed you to see?

  That's it. I click off the know-it-all and march onward.

  ***

  You'd think something called a restricted area would be at least a little bit exciting. You know, maybe some captive alien monsters, or top-secret science experiments, or maybe even the Ringmaster's personal quarters. So far I've found a room full of feathered fans, another chock-full of rusty old gears and springs, and lots and lots of long, monotonous corridors. The only danger here is that I might die of boredom. I'm starting to think I'd be better off watching the six-hour Love Among the Stars marathon. One more corridor; that's as far as I'm going. If it's more of the same, I'm done here.