Understanding the Stars

by Xela Culletto

  I answered her as honestly as I could. I said we’d met a few weeks back, when I was delivering pizza; he was a student, studying astronomy; and I didn’t know how serious it was because I hadn’t been able to think much about it with the funeral and everything.

  That’s when she went from inquisitor to comforter, telling me how she knew how hard these past weeks had been on me.

  I sniffled a little and then we had breakfast.

  Could have been much worse, really.

  Ronan showed up in the afternoon, with such perfect timing, I felt a little suspicious that he had been “watching”. But I wasn’t able to confront him about it because he turned his attention and charm onto my mother.

  “I do apologize about our awkward introduction last night. I hope it won’t taint the possibility of a future association.”

  “Oh, well, I…“ my mother stammered. “Of course not. You startled me is all. Alex hadn’t told me anything about you—she is all secrets these days. She tells me you are a student of astronomy?”

  Ronan didn’t even blink. “Yes, ma’am. May I offer you my compliments on your lovely home. Wherever did you find that piece above the mantle?”

  “The painting? Well, actually, I painted that.”

  And then he went off, gushing about her talent, her taste, and she lapped it up. I remained silent and amused during the exchange. Of course he’d known she’d painted the mural, having watched it being created through my eyes.

  After a bit, Ronan smoothly changed the subject and asked for her permission to take me out for dinner. She agreed. I went upstairs to preen a little, and came down wearing a knee-length sage green skirt, a cream top, a dangly necklace, and chocolate-colored flats.

  He smiled at me and escorted me to the black car.

  “What are you in the mood for tonight?”

  “Nothing in particular. You?”

  He smiled as he eased the car out of the driveway. “There’s a restaurant I’ve wanted to take you. You’ve never been, but I really think you’ll like it.”

  “Okay,” I said. “Let’s go there.”

  Ronan had some recordings of Solamure music, and I insisted on listening to them during the drive.

  It was the same mesmerizing music I’d heard back when we first met, drifting out of his house. Listening to it now made me wonder how I didn’t realize the music was otherworldly. The complexity of the notes as they weaved in and out of each other was entrancing and heady. The pattern of the rhythms, so unlike anything I’d ever heard. It so captivated my attention that we didn’t speak for the entire drive up the windy mountain road.

  We pulled up to a large cabin-esque building bearing a sign that simply said “The Garden” in simple bronze lettering. Ronan requested an outdoor table and we were led to a balcony out the back that overlooked the city. It was just dusk as we ordered, and the city lights were beginning to twinkle.

  It was a perfect, warm summer evening, and I realized I was feeling almost content. I decided to revel in the feeling while it lasted.

  “The Solamure know about music,” I said after our food was presented and the waiter had left.

  “Yes. For all their faults, they do appreciate music.”

  “I’m not really that musical, but even I can hear the ingenuity.”

  “I’m glad you like it,” he said softly.

  There was a pause as we both began eating. The soup was divine, and I found myself wishing the bowl they’d brought it in was bigger.

  “So I’ve been thinking,” I said. “About the future.”

  Ronan looked up from his plate, and waited.

  “I think…. I’ve decided what I want to do. But it’s crazy, and I’m going to need your help.”

  “…Okay,” he said neutrally.

  “I want to go find the others—the other people who had watchers put in their head. The ones the Kema’dor are hunting. And help them.”

  Whatever Ronan was expecting to hear, this wasn’t it. His eyes narrowed, then he abruptly put down his fork and leaned forward slightly.

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “Absolutely not. Do you think I went through all that trouble of rescuing you just so you could throw yourself in harm’s way again? Do you even have any idea what they could do to you?”

  “I—well, yes I do,” I said firmly, running my hand over my half-shaven head, where the hair was just getting long enough to cover my scalp.

  “Forgive me,” he said, more calmly. “Of course you do. It’s just that you can’t begin to imagine what it did to me when I knew they had you. I can’t just let you run back into that peril again.”

  “But Ronan, think about it. Think about those people who have no idea the danger they’re in. I’m guessing some might even be children. We have to help them. In fact, we may be the only people who can.”

  He paused in his argument and I could tell he was considering.

  “It’s very important to me,” I said quietly.

  “Alexandra, we can’t. It’s as good as suicide.”

  I was about to argue, but then I saw the obstinacy in his eye, and changed my mind. Bickering wouldn’t get me anywhere tonight.

  So instead we talked about the food. I thanked him for taking me here, told him this was my new favorite restaurant, ordered the chocolate cake for dessert, and was in many ways an agreeable, pleasant date. But for the rest of the evening my mind was working on ways to convince Ronan to change his mind.

  He drove me home and gave me a soul-spinning kiss goodnight. And then I went up to bed. I watched from my window as he drove away from the curb and eventually out of sight.

  I laid stomach-down on my bed, grabbed a pillow to bunch up underneath my chin, and thought.

  What I’d told Ronan was true. I really did want to go looking for the others—innocent, unaware victims—and help them. I felt it was my responsibility. And it was something meaningful that I could do. Dad would have approved.

  I had to do it.

  I would never be able to live with myself if I turned a blind eye, wondering if I could have helped in some way.

  I had to do it, whether or not Ronan approved.

  I began devising a plan.

  Plan A: Convince Ronan to change his mind, use his Solamure technology to find the closest “Innocent” (as I’d decided to call the other people were hosting the watchers), do what was possible to help him or her—at the very least make him/her aware of the situation, and move outward from there. Money, if I could get Ronan on board, wouldn’t be an issue, I didn’t think. Judging by his house, he was loaded.

  Plan B: Search satellite images of maps within a sixty-mile radius until found something that looked like the cabin Ronan and I had stayed in. It was a singular building at the top of a mountain—there couldn’t be that many of them—and drive out to it. Retrace the steps of my departure until I found the area where I’d lost the NeuralCom. Pray like crazy it was still there, then use it to find the Innocents. Get a credit card to pay for expenses.

  Okay, so my plans were flawed. Totally inadequate. But if neither of them worked, there was always Plan C. And that one, though completely reckless and brash, seemed foolproof.

  “I don’t understand why you can’t understand where I’m coming from, Ronan,” I said, frustrated.

  “It’s not that I don’t understand, Alex. In fact, I do understand. And I’m not saying that it’s wrong, or faulty. But I have different priorities than you. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from the Solamure, it’s that you can’t fix all the world’s problems.”

  “Oh, so we just shouldn’t even try then, I guess,” I shot back bitterly.

  “You can’t take on everyone’s problems, Alex. First, because it’s impossible, and second, it’s not your right. All you can do is work on your little piece of the world,” he said. Then quietly added, “Which is what I’ve been trying to do.”

  No—I wasn’t going to let him make this about protecting me.

&nbs
p; “So you won’t help me, then.”

  “I can’t. I can’t do that.”

  I paused a moment and Ronan waited patiently while I thought.

  “You remember your promise to me, right?”

  “To not watch you. Yes, I remember.”

  “Good,” I said. Then abruptly I got up and left.

  I really didn’t mean to come off as being so rude. But Ronan had to understand that my safety wasn’t any more important than anyone else’s--I understood that, even if he didn’t.

  It took a lot longer than I thought, searching satellite maps on the computer. Mom began to ask questions about what I was doing for so many hours, holed up in my room, on my laptop. I brushed her off with a mention of a “project”.

  She was persistent, though. On the third day she brought a lunch plate up to my room and sat down on my bed.

  “Alex, what’s going on? You’ve been in here for hours.”

  “Still working on the project, Mom,” I said without looking up from the state park I was currently scouting.

  “But honey, you need to take breaks. This isn’t healthy.”

  “I’m fine,” I said dismissively. I peered closely at the brownish-gray pixels that had just come into view on the screen. Definitely a building, and it was close to a mountaintop. But upon further investigation it became obvious it was too small. Besides, the roof wasn’t gabled like the cabin’s had been.

  She pursed her lips. “What’s Ronan up to lately? I haven’t seen him around here for a few days.”

  “He knows I’m busy,” I said vaguely.

  “Well, if you see him, tell him he’s welcome here anytime he wants to drop by. And Natalie called, too, by the way.”

  “Thanks for the lunch, Mom,” I said pointedly.

  She took the hint and left.

  Finally, on the following day, I came across a building I felt sure must be it. I examined it from every angle possible, and as far as I could tell from the coarse imagery, it was everything I remembered. I carefully examined the roads and mapped out my route. It was 140 miles away.

  “I’m going out for the day, Mom,” I yelled, as I grabbed my purse and keys.

  There was no response. Then I vaguely remembered her poking her head in to tell me that she was going out to lunch with my aunt. I left a note telling her I’d be back later that night and got in the car.

  Having been unconscious the first time I went up this road, and driving in the middle of the night the next, I didn’t recognize it. But I was confident I was going the right way.

  I didn’t allow myself to think about what I would do after I arrived at my destination—how I would know exactly how far back down the road I would need to drive, how I would know how far down off the road I would need to look. I was taking it one step at a time.

  Then suddenly I hit a roadblock—figuratively and literally. A black iron gate was running across the road, up and down alongside, and was sealed with a massive lock. A no-nonsense “Private Road, No Trespassing” sign was displayed, and a narrow gray security camera pointed down at me like a haughty guardsman.

  I knew this was the right way. I must not have driven far enough down it last time to have reached this gate. Even if I had, the NeuralCom probably would have told me how to open it. How the Kema’dor got through, I had no idea.

  I got out of the car and tried to squeeze through the slats, but they were too narrow. It went up probably about ten feet—too high for me to breach. I briefly considered trying to dig, but dismissed the thought. The ground was packed solid, and I didn’t have any tools or anything.

  How could I come all this way, only to be stopped by a fence? I grunted in frustration and kicked at the gate. It didn’t even jiggle it was so solid.

  Feeling defeated, I reluctantly got back in my car and stared at the gate while I thought. I could potentially come back with a shovel and try to dig my way in. But then I would be on foot, with miles and miles to cover.

  Face it, your plan stinks. Sighing, I put the car in reverse, and made an awkward reverse turn on the narrow road. Plan C it is, I thought reluctantly.

  I made it about ten minutes down the road before the Kema’dor attacked.

  They blockaded the narrow road with big SUVs both in front of me and behind me, forcing me to stop. Just like before, I bolted from my car and ran down the mountain, and just like before, they caught me.

  But this time they didn’t knock me out—just viciously manhandled me as they dragged me back to the road.

  “Ronan!” I screamed. “Ronan, I know you’re watching! Help! Please help!”

  One of the aliens shoved a piece of cloth into my mouth, and then I could do no more than whimper pathetically.

  My hands and legs were bound, and I was about to be tossed roughly into the back of one of the vehicles when instead I was abruptly dropped to the ground.

  I rolled over to see that the Kema’dor now all had thin metallic green rods in their “hands”. They were about a yard long, and had what looked like crackling electricity sizzling out from either side. It was obvious from the way the Kema’dor were holding them that they were weapons.

  They began yelling—all burbles and belches—and most of them organized themselves into a U shape formation that I was just outside of. The others began running into the foliage. They were surprisingly fast: they curved their squat bodies into a missile-like shape and charged with their heads down on their short but muscular legs.

  Why had I called for Ronan to come here? He would be hopelessly outnumbered—there were probably a dozen of them.

  But suddenly he was there. Ronan stepped around my car and into view, and my heart leaped—and then did a double-take.

  His face was etched with rage. His hair, normally combed to the side, was windswept and added to the savage look shooting from his narrowed eyes. In his hands were two thick black rods, each about two feet long. He held these across his tense body like a karate master holds his fists.

  He looked ready to kill.

  All I could do was I lay helplessly on the ground and scream muffled screams as I watched him walk straight into the center of the U, where the other Kema’dor had been herding him. They raised their electric rods threateningly and closed around him so that he disappeared from my sight.

  A noisy scuffle arose—grunts, burbles, loud metallic humming sounds, throaty cries in obvious pain—all of it layered over each other, and I could only guess what was going on.

  The Kema’dor suddenly all cried out together, pulled back, and I could see him. There were fresh burn marks on his face and smoke rising from holes in his clothing, but he was standing. The two rods he whipped around his body so fast I could only see a blackish blur.

  Two of the aliens stepped forward, weapons crackling and held high. Ronan swiftly knocked them both back with strong swings to the torso, and they fell.

  Rushing to my side, he pulled the gauze from my mouth and kissed me—swiftly and ferociously. I didn’t even have a chance to kiss back.

  Then he scooped me up and, hesitating only a moment to knock down another approaching Kema’dor one-handed, rushed off to the waiting black Mustang.

  After dropping me into the passenger seat, he climbed in behind the steering wheel, and off we sped, tearing down the road like a meteor through the sky.

  Chapter 16

  There’s report of criminal activity on earth.

  By?

  The Kema’dor, mainly. The Solamure are surely also involved, but it’s difficult to prove, as usual.

  Transmit the details. We will set course.

  “I’m—I’m so sorry, Ronan,” I said as soon as Ronan had relaxed a little and had stopped checking the rearview mirror every two seconds.

  “My fault,” he muttered.

  “It’s not your fault,” I said. “How can you even think that? I’m the one that took off like a fool.”

  He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “Alex, anything you do because of me, or the Solamure,
or the aliens, is my fault. You shouldn’t have to deal with any of this.”

  Oh, he was going to play the guilty card again. I should have known.

  “Well, thank you,” I said. “I know I told you not—not to watch me, but I’m glad you did.”

  “I only promised I wouldn’t if there wasn’t an emergency. I’d say this qualifies.”

  “Well… how can you know if there’s an emergency if you’re not watching?”

  He half-smiled. “I guess that’s the trick, then, huh?”

  Of course I couldn’t be mad at him.

  “Well, I am sorry. For risking both our lives on a stupid plan.”

  “What was your plan?”

  I told him, and to my surprise he didn’t laugh at me.

  “Not bad, really. Of course you couldn’t know that I retrieved the NeuralCom weeks ago, or that the Kema’dor had set up a small outpost in the area in case you or I were to ever show up.”

  “Well, I had another back-up plan,” I said.

  “Which was?”

  “Call up Nash and tell him I’d trade the information the CIA has on the Innocents in exchange for this infernal device in my head.”

  Ronan looked shocked.

  “Alex—how can you even think of doing that? You know what they’d have to do—what would happen…”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t mean right away. I mean later—years and years later. Am I right, then, that they know where some of the others are?”

  “Well, yes, but I can’t believe you’d even consider that! Have you no sense of self-preservation?”

  I felt a little insulted. The way he said it made me feel like he must actually think I was crazy.

  “Besides,” he continued, a little more calmly. “Don’t you remember? I already gave them one. In exchange for helping me rescue you from an alien attack the first time.”

  Now that he mentioned it, I did remember. How had that slipped my memory? Maybe I was actually crazy.