Star-Crossed

by Pintip Dunn

  She lifts her eyes to me. I might as well be looking into a mirror. Her eyes are black instead of brown, heavily fringed instead of sparsely lashed. But the same emotion clouds her irises: guilt.

  “You’d given me a slice of apple that day, and I saved it, in order to savor it.” Her face crumples. “I thought he was crying because he was hungry. You know he never keeps enough nutrition for himself. I didn’t have any pills left, but I did have the apple.”

  My throat closes up. “You fed him the apple? In his sleep?”

  She nods, once. But once is all it takes.

  I rock forward, my mind racing. “What happened?”

  “He choked a little, but once I talked him through it, he was able to get the apple down. I was so pleased I was able to do something for him. But when he fully woke up, he was livid.

  “Work was hard for him after that. He’d never had any trouble resisting food. You can’t be tempted by what you’ve never had, after all. But when he came home from work the next day, his clothes were drenched with sweat. Every minute was pure torture for him. All he could think about was taking that next bite. He lasted a week. When he felt like he couldn’t bear the temptation any longer, he quit his job rather than break the law. Rather than follow in the footsteps of our mother.”

  I take a shaky breath. “He never took another bite?”

  “Not a single one.”

  My heart feels heavy, as if the tears of my body have been collected to rain inside its chambers. Anyone else would’ve given in. But not Carr. He’d give up his livelihood before compromising his morals.

  I remember now the time he left the apple orchards. He was offered another job the very next day, as a terraforming specialist to cultivate the barren areas of the planet. The weird part was: he never submitted an application. The circumstances of the new job were so bizarre, I never thought to ask why he quit his original job in the first place.

  “Are we settled, then?” Astana asks. “If you swap the oranges for apples, then Carr is done. I doubt he’ll last five minutes.”

  The room is suddenly too small. I jump to my feet and pace from one wall to the other. “I can’t. He already thinks I’m trying to manipulate him. This switch will only prove I care more about the Trials than him.”

  “Not to put a damper on your romantic pursuits,” she says, her voice as cool as the IV dripping into her body, “but we’re talking about my brother’s life.”

  “This isn’t about me!” I spin on my heel and walk even faster. “Did you know Carr believes he’s not worthy of love unless he’s done something in exchange for it?”

  “That’s ridiculous—”

  “He told me himself. He said you and your mother only love him because of what he can do for you.” My voice drops. “I was trying to convince him otherwise. If I betray him, he’ll never believe me.”

  She reaches for my hands. “Look at me, V.”

  My eyes slide into hers. So black. So piercing. Just like her brother’s.

  “Our first priority is saving Carr’s life. If he’s dead, then all your other concerns are irrelevant. Got it?”

  I don’t want to agree. There’s a line inside me between right and wrong, and I know her suggestion crosses it. But when I think about losing Carr, everything inside me sags, and the line disappears like matter sucked into a black hole.

  So, against my better judgment, against my sense of morality, against a lifetime of lessons from my father, I nod.

  “Promise me you won’t let my brother die. Promise, V.”

  Carr may hate me for it, but at least he’ll be alive. That’s what’s important. Right?

  “I promise.”

  Chapter

  Nineteen

  Piles of apples line four sides of the room, stacked floor to ceiling, stretching wall to wall. A large square in the middle has been left empty, as well as a path running from the door to the space. But the sheer amount of fruit is deceiving. It tricks my mind into believing all I see is apple. Red, shiny apple. Crunch-in-your-mouth sweet. Exploding-on-your-tongue tart.

  “Apple pie, apple turnover, apple fritter, apple ice cream, baked apples, stewed apples…” Denver says.

  “The possibilities are endless.” I blink, and the fruits seem to multiply. Blink again, and my senses swim in a churning river of red. “Apple curry, apple salad, apple soup, apple chutney, applesauce.”

  “And we’ll be eating them all in the next few days.”

  My taste buds rejoice. Waste not. The First Maxim of our colony. The fruit has been sprayed with an irresistible fragrance, but it’s perfectly safe to eat. As soon as the challenge is over, every bit of apple that’s salvageable, from the juices to the bruised flesh, will be collected, sanitized, and recycled.

  Denver and I stand in front of the one-way window, along with several Aegis who have gathered to watch the show. Even Blanca and Hanoi are present, halfway down the corridor. Blanca’s whispering to her assistant, a mile a minute, while Hanoi taps furiously on her handheld. Hanoi’s warm complexion glows, and she seems steadier on her feet. The meals must be doing their job.

  Still, I frown. Why are they here? I’m glad to see Hanoi looking so much better, but shouldn’t Blanca be working on a solution for her patients? How is she going to save my best friend’s life if she’s wasting time attending my challenges?

  “I heard there was a last-minute switch,” Denver says, interrupting my thoughts. “The bots in the orange orchards were about to pick the fruit when they were told the royal order no longer needed to be fulfilled.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Oh, you know. I hear things here and there.” He smiles glibly. No bit of gossip is safe from Denver. I don’t know if he has a secret underground network or if he just has a lot of friends.

  “We decided apples were more symbolic, since they’re carved in the wall of the Royal Office.” I hate lying. I don’t think Denver would judge me, but now that I’ve decided to cheat, the less people who know, the better. “Since these trials are historic—the King’s last organ transfer—we thought apples would be the better choice. Even if they’re less enticing.”

  “I don’t know.” He looks back into the room. “They look pretty tempting to me.”

  I agree. My mouth waters, and I clasp my hands together to keep from reaching through the glass.

  At that moment, the door opens and the bots stacking the apples exit the room. A sweet, crisp scent drifts into the air, assaulting my nose, stirring an age-old hunger. For one wild moment, I want to leap on those apples. I yearn for the flesh on my tongue. I can feel the juice slide down my throat.

  I wrestle a muzzle onto my hunger, but not everyone is as successful.

  A nearby Aegis lets out a tortured howl and lunges through the entrance, grabbing an apple and shoving it into his mouth. He manages to snatch a second and a third before the bots converge on him, locking their metal arms around his torso and dragging him out.

  “Please. Just one more.” His hands claw the air, his eyes feral, as if he’s lost all thought and reason. “Let me have one more.”

  The bots roll down the corridor, taking him with them. His screams continue to ring in my ears, leaving behind a physical mark of his hunger.

  “That was weird,” Denver says.

  I shiver. “Did you feel it, too? That uncontrollable urge to gorge on the apples?”

  “Yeah. I thought it was just me.”

  We look at each other, as if we can find the answer in the other’s eyes, and then Master Somjing lurches toward us, his fingers hopscotching over his handheld. Denver excuses himself to join a group of our former classmates, who are buzzing over the scene they just witnessed. I can’t help noticing that Blanca and Hanoi have drifted to the end of the corridor, as if to get as far as possible from the smell.

  “That was a brand-new Aegis,” Master Somjing says as soon as Denver is out of hearing. “His test scores show the least amount of control in his class, and the apples have been sp
rayed with an irresistible formula.”

  “Still, he shouldn’t have reacted like that.” I frown. “Is something wrong with the formula?”

  “I don’t think so. The fragrance reacts most violently with someone who’s tasted the food recently. Enough to recall the flavor, but not so frequently as to sate the appetite. He’s a new Aegis who’s not acclimated to the taste of apple. That would explain his reaction.” Master Somjing looks into the room and quickly averts his eyes, as if afraid of being infected. “Do you think the temptation will be too much for the candidates?”

  My stomach churns. If all the boys fall the moment they enter the room, we won’t have any scores to differentiate them. We won’t gain any new information. And this challenge will be a failure.

  “We have to test the fragrance,” I say. “That’s the only way to find out if the candidates have a fighting chance. A colonist has to go inside that room and remain for ten minutes.”

  Master Somjing’s eyes open so wide I’m afraid his lenses will pop out. “Who, me?”

  “You’re the only colonist here,” I say gently.

  He slips the handheld into his pocket, even as his ears flush red. “I beg your pardon, Princess, but I’ve never had resistance training. I don’t have any experience steeling my will against temptation.”

  “Your job requires you to fortify yourself on a daily basis.” I put my hand on his arm. “Besides, I’ll go with you. I’ll talk you through the test.”

  The council member glances at my hand. I don’t know when our roles changed. I’m not sure when he started talking to me, instead of lecturing. But over the days, we’ve somehow stepped into a relationship between equals. With honesty, respect. And mutual trust.

  He nods, and then we walk into the room.

  …

  The fragrance surrounds me as soon as I enter, and my taste buds spring alive. I’m bombarded by a hundred memories of eating apples, each one more sharp and poignant than the last. The flavor of nectar and honey explodes on my tongue, and the beast roars to life. I want that taste in my mouth. I need it now.

  But then, the desire recedes. My body isn’t hungry. I’ve had a full early-morning meal, and the many memories of the flavor take the edge off my craving. I don’t need to eat because I know how an apple tastes. I know I’ll be eating it soon enough in the Banquet Hall.

  Not the case for Master Somjing. Sweat beads on his forehead, and he skips his eyes around the room, as if trying to land on each and every apple. He hasn’t tasted the fruit since Earth, before he boarded the space shuttle that would bring him to Dion. With the ensuing decades, he’s probably forgotten the taste. And yet, his body yearns for the flavor.

  “Master Somjing, look at me.”

  He doesn’t hear. His eyes continue their erratic jumps; his throat bobs convulsively. I dig my fingers into his shoulders. Underneath the coarse fabric of the council member’s uniform, I feel his muscles spasm. “Master Somjing, listen to my voice,” I say. “Look straight into my eyes. We are not here to eat. We are testing this challenge. Do you understand?”

  He doesn’t answer, but with great effort, he drags his eyes to my face. He’s gulping air like a nearly drowned victim, but there, in the deepest part of his irises, I see a glimmer of his old steadiness.

  “Talk to me,” I say. “Tell me about the hologram pendant hanging from your neck.” I touch the reflective black cube, so similar to the one in my living unit. “Who do you wear so closely to your heart? Who matters so much that you must keep their presence with you at all times?”

  “My wife?” The words are a question, not a statement. As though he’s not sure of the answer. As though he’s not sure of his own name.

  I’ve always known Master Somjing as a childless bachelor, without any family. But I’ve heard rumors of a woman long ago, someone he loved with his entire soul. I can’t imagine the old councilman rapturous about anything, but maybe he loved so thoroughly and so deeply, his passion expired along with his lover’s death.

  “My wife,” he says again, but this time, the words are a sigh, a settling into the one trance that can distract him from the apples. “She was the very first gen mod, you know.”

  “I didn’t know.” I align my eyes with his so he can’t look anywhere else. Won’t see the red temptation surrounding us. “Can you tell me how it happened?”

  He nods, and the many lines in his face soften. “We’d woken up from the cryogenic chambers and discovered the pods had malfunctioned. The air was largely unbreathable, due to volcanic eruptions that threw massive amounts of carbon dioxide into the sky. The engineers were building the energy shield as quickly as they could, scavenging parts from the broken pods to build the generators, but in the meantime, people were starving. There just wasn’t enough food to feed everyone.

  “And then, Master Kendall approached us with a solution. The genetic modification was in the newest phase of development, and no one knew what the side effects would be. But there was no time to test, no time to perfect. Dozens of people were dying every day, and nobody wanted to step up. So my wife volunteered.”

  I hardly remember to breathe. Somehow, in the countless lessons about our colony’s history, I never heard about his wife. Never knew about this first gen mod. Master Somjing’s face has that distant look again, but he’s lost in the past now, not the present.

  “She was such a hero, Vela. So stoic, so gracious. After they saw her example, a few more people became Aegis. This small group single-handedly saved the entire colony. A few months later, the shield was finished, and more food could be produced. The scientists developed a new version of the gen mod to minimize the side effects. But it was too late for my wife and the others. The damage to their genes as a result of the modification was hefty—and permanent. She, and the rest of this first group of Aegis, passed within the year.”

  When he finishes, tears coat the inside of my throat. I, too, made the same choice. To sacrifice years of my life so that others may live. But I was given fifteen more years to live. Master Somjing’s wife only had one.

  “What was her name?” For some reason, I need to know. I, too, want to hold her memory close to my heart.

  His eyes refocus, and he glances around the room. Apples, still there. Fragrance, still present. But his desire is now held in check. “Viola,” he says.

  At first, I think he’s saying my name, and then it sinks in. Viola is his late wife’s name.

  “Your father named you after her. He was a great friend to us both. And indispensable to me since she’s been gone.”

  My heart thuds, a percussive beat to accompany the rushing in my ears. The trend on Dion has been to name children after geographic locations back on Earth, a way to memorialize the place from which we came. I remember crowding around the maps of our mother planet when we were kids. My classmates would yell and point excitedly whenever they found their name. But I never found mine.

  The King explained that Vela wasn’t a place back on Earth. It’s not a traditional Thai name, derived from my ancestors, either. I never understood why he chose it.

  “How come he never told me?” I ask. “How come I’ve never heard about Viola and the other original Aegis until today?”

  “That was my fault. In those early years, any reminder of her was a stab in my heart. As a favor, your father kept her name out of the history lessons. But enough time has passed…” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “She should be remembered.”

  “Yes. She should be remembered.” That one sentence says it all.

  Something in my pocket beeps, and we both jump.

  “What was that?” he asks.

  I pull the handheld out of my pocket and switch off the alarm. “Congratulations, Master Somjing. You’ve lasted ten minutes in this room.”

  Chapter

  Twenty

  The candidates file down the corridor and line up in front of the glass wall. Their eyes widen at the stacks of apples, and a few of them turn their backs to the glass
. Smart. No reason to look at the apples longer than necessary, especially when the challenge hasn’t even begun. I tap their names into my handheld.

  My stomach hasn’t settled. Something seems off about the formula. I can’t shake the image of the Aegis with the wild eyes, being carted off by the bots. But Master Somjing was able to last ten minutes in the room, so all I can do is hope that the candidates emerge similarly unscathed.

  “Good luck, Fargo,” I say.

  “You can do it, Baton.”

  “I’m rooting for you, Stowe.”

  My words are an echo of the Endurance Challenge, when I dreamed up countless ways to wish Zelo well. This time, however, I spread out my encouragement among all the candidates.

  Jupiter grabs my hand and licks it, the grin practically splitting his face. To Zelo, I simply nod. I slipped him a note earlier with my instructions for this challenge. He spreads his palm across his chest, tapping three times.

  The gesture makes me stumble. Maybe he only means to acknowledge my message, but it’s also the royal salute. The one reserved for the ruler of our colony. I’m not ready for that show of respect yet. I don’t know when—or if—I’ll ever be ready for it.

  And then, I reach the last candidate in line. Carr. My smile sticks, as petrified as the C-trunks in the memorial copse. I haven’t seen him since we faced each other during the Incentive Challenge. Since we kissed. Since I decided to sabotage him.

  I turn, but he reaches out and touches my elbow. He’s not as suave as Jupiter. He could never be as reverent as Zelo or as charming as Denver. But one look into his deep black eyes, and I’m lost.

  “May I speak to you, Vela?” he asks, his voice low and grave.

  I tuck my chin into my chest. “The challenge is starting at any moment.”

  “Fifteen minutes, Master Somjing said. We have time.”

  I should say “no.” The other candidates are watching. Master Somjing is down the hall. If I turn off the recorder one more time, I don’t know what the council will think.