Understanding the Stars

by Xela Culletto

  “Ronan, I told you. This is important to me.”

  “I’m beginning to see that.” He turned the car onto the main highway. “Which is why I’m going with you.”

  “You’ll help me?” I could hardly believe it.

  “Well it seems you won’t be stopped. And I’d rather be close by next time you get into trouble.”

  “…Next time?”

  “If we’re going to do this, it’s going to be dangerous. I told you.”

  “I know. But are you sure you want to? I mean, I feel bad even asking.”

  “I’ll go where you go, Alex. You’re the reason I’m here.”

  I had a hard time thinking of a story to tell Mom. I’m going away, and I don’t know exactly where, and I don’t know for how long? But don’t worry? Right.

  I insisted we leave right away—the longer we waited, the more Innocents might be taken. Ronan insisted I wait until the following morning.

  It was dinnertime when Ronan dropped me off. In all the excitement, I hadn’t even thought about the car I’d left parked up in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by hostile alien corpses. Great, one more thing to tell Mom.

  I walked in just as she was setting a basket of bread on the table.

  “Sweetie, you’re home!” she smiled.

  “Hi, Mom. How was your day?”

  “Good. I hope you’re hungry—dinner’s ready.”

  She was in a good mood, which made me feel even worse for what I was about to do to her.

  “Um… sounds great, Mom. Let me just run up and take a quick shower, okay?”

  “Sure, take your time.”

  The shower was a godsend. I’d really gotten roughed up running around the mountain, and I felt like a new person after I got out.

  I pulled on some yoga pants and a t-shirt, and went downstairs to try and enjoy what might possibly my last dinner at home.

  “So, what did you do today?” Mom asked as I chowed down—until you’ve been in one, you’ve no idea how hungry life-threatening situations can make you. “I have to tell you I was glad when I saw your note—it’s about time you spent some time away from your computer.”

  “Oh, I…went hiking up in the mountain.”

  “I thought so. You looked pretty disheveled when you walked in. Did Ronan go with you?”

  “He met me there,” I said, thinking fast. “But we decided to carpool home. So the car is still up there.” I hope.

  “Uh-huh,” she said, taking a bite. “And when do you plan on picking it up?”

  “Well, um,” I stammered, “I’m not really sure. See, Mom, there’s something I have to tell you.”

  I put my fork down and looked solemnly across the table at her. I suddenly felt like a lump in my throat. She looked up, slightly alarmed.

  “What is it?”

  “I’m leaving. Tomorrow. There’s something I have to do. And I don’t know when I’ll be back, but probably not for weeks or months.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but I pressed on. “Ronan’s going with me—he’ll keep me out of trouble. I can’t tell you much more than that. I don’t want to lie to you, so please don’t ask me for more.”

  “Alex,” she said, a warning in her tone, “you can’t seriously think I’m just going to let you waltz away with some boy without telling me where you’re going, or what you’re doing.”

  “Mom,” I said as gently as I could, “I’m not asking permission. I’m eighteen. I’m so sorry to be doing this to you, especially now, but I am going.”

  “No,” she said stonily, “you’re not.”

  “Please. Don’t make this more difficult.”

  “Alex! There’s no way I’m going to just let you run off and—and elope or something when you’re only eighteen! I raised you better than that, and I expect to see some of the sense your father and I spent our lives teaching you! Now stop this silly fantasy of yours. You have college to think about.”

  “Okay, Mom,” I said in a neutral tone, trying to calm her down a little. “I’m not running off to elope. It’s nothing like that.” She snorted. “And I’m not going to be gone forever. I’m not walking away from college. I’m just—“

  “What?” she said sharply.

  “This is something I need to do. For Dad.”

  That surprised her enough to stop whatever it was she was planning on saying. She closed her mouth and considered me for a moment.

  “For your father?”

  “Yes. If he knew about what I’m doing, he would approve, I think.”

  “Alex, what is it?” she pled. “Ever since you disappeared with that awful man from the CIA, I feel like I barely know you. Talk to me.”

  I looked down at the table. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

  “I just can’t sit around this empty house all day wondering where you are or what you’re doing or if you’re safe. Please, Alex.”

  She looked so distressed; I felt awful.

  “I’ll keep in touch, Mom. I’ll call—every day—to check in with you.” Ronan should be able to pull that off, with all his wonder-gadgets.

  “Well, I—can’t you tell me what’s going on?”

  “It’s really better this way.”

  “Oh, Alex.”

  “I love you, Mom. I’m sorry,” I said. Then went up to my room to pack, the stairs a blur through my tears.

  I left a note for Mom on the kitchen table before I slipped out early the next morning. It was still dark, and the rolling wheels on my suitcase sounded unreasonably noisy against the sidewalk

  Ronan was waiting. He enveloped me in a brief hug before taking the suitcase from me and opening the car door. Once we were both seat-belted in, Ronan turned to me and asked, “You do have your passport, right?”

  “Um, well--“

  “Joking. I know you never got one. I had one made for you. Hope you’re up for some international travel.”

  “You had one made? Isn’t that illegal or something?”

  “I thought you were in a hurry to get this trip underway.”

  I wasn’t really comfortable with law-breaking, but maybe, considering what we were going to be doing over the next while, I needed to acclimate.

  “Yeah. Where are we headed first?”

  “I chartered a private jet to take us to Botswana.”

  “Botswana?”

  “Africa.”

  “Africa?”

  “Yep. Without the tracking device, the Kema’dor have been moving in on the last known locations of the ones who had watchers installed. It’s obviously not the nearest location, but from what I can tell, it’s where the Kema’dor have moved in the closest. If we hurry, we should be able to reach the person before they do.”

  “Well, then. By all means,” I gestured toward the steering wheel and Ronan backed the car out of the driveway. As we sped off down the street, I thought I caught a glimpse of a curtain in my Mom’s window fall closed.

  “You didn’t sleep much. If you’re tired, you can lay the seat back and try to get some rest. It’ll be an hour or so before we get to the airport.”

  “I don’t think I could sleep now. You said a private jet? What’s wrong with regular old first class?” I joked.

  “Well, this pilot isn’t going to scrutinize my—um, unusual—luggage like the public airlines would. If the TSA had a look at the stuff I packed, they’d never let us go.”

  “Why?” I asked, alarmed. “What are you taking?”

  “Mostly just computer stuff, and, yes, some weaponry. All of it Solamure-tech. We’ll be needing it.”

  Munitions made me nervous—my parents had never even owned a gun—and yet here I was, about to jet-set with the most advanced equipment in the universe that could do God-knows-what.

  I must be crazy.

  “Gee, and all I packed was an extra pair of socks and a toothbrush.” Actually, I’d practically crammed my entire wardrobe into the largest suitcase we owned, but next to Ronan’s preparations, it was probably meager.

  He
half smiled. “You’ll be fine. I’ve got you covered.”

  “Hey,” I said, thinking of something, “have you ever been out of the country?”

  “Just a few places. Before I was assigned to you.”

  “Oh, okay. Any tips for a first-time, nervous, thoroughly-American traveler?”

  “Yeah. Don’t drink the water.”

  We arrived at the airport just as dawn was breaking over the horizon. The air was cool, but Ronan insisted on personally loading his metal suitcases into the airplane’s luggage holder. Money was exchanged (a huge sum, I’d bet), and we climbed the stairs up into a spacious cabin.

  There were big cushy cream-colored recliners situated next to the large oval windows, low-set shiny coffee tables, and a couple of sectionals arranged around a huge flat-screen TV.

  Wow. If Mom could see me now, she’d stop worrying in a second.

  Ronan sat down in one of the recliners, and I chose the one opposite. A flight attendant appeared and asked if we wanted anything. We both requested juice, and once it was granted, we took off.

  As the plane evened from its steep incline, I had to ask. “Where on earth do you get funds for something like this?”

  He smiled a little. “Not on earth. The Solamure manufacture large amounts of the currency used on whichever planet they visit. “

  “Manufacture? As in counterfeit?”

  “Well, yes. But since they use the exact blueprints for the machines that print American dollars, it’s the same thing, really.”

  I was getting more uncomfortable with the parameters of this trip by the hour. “The Solamure aren’t really big into ethics, are they?”

  “They have their own standards—different priorities.”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, like I told you—they value knowledge above all else. Anything in the pursuit of knowledge is ethical—including printing fraudulent funds. If anything stands in the way or prevents the acquisition of knowledge, it’s ethical to, ah, dispose of it. But other than that, for the most part it’s live and let live.”

  “So why did they run when the Kema’dor came? You’d think they’d want to fight if an enemy was scaring them off from their ‘pursuit of knowledge’?”

  “Well, that’s another factor. They like to remain incognito as much as possible. And a big alien battle—or even a small one—on earth would likely have exposed them. Oh, they would win—but then they’d have a job of cleaning up the mess, and erasing memories, etcetera, and they hate interfering.

  “I believe that the Kema’dor will continue to pursue the Solamure—but that war will probably take place light years away. The Solamure prefer not to cause any disruptions to the ecosystems they’re studying, to keep their research as true as possible.”

  “Present company excepted, I’m guessing.”

  “Yes,” he said slightly bitterly. “But if things had gone according to plan, you’d probably be packing for college now, totally unaware of all of this, instead of on a jet flying off to face one of the more ruthless species in the universe.”

  “You haven’t seemed to have a problem facing them.”

  Ronan sucked in a breath and pursed his lips. “I haven’t had to deal with their warriors.”

  “I saw you take on a dozen of them.”

  “Those weren’t warriors. They were just scouts. I’m sure they felt confident they could handle one little earthling girl.”

  “And they would have, if you hadn’t shown up. For that matter, without you, I wouldn’t be packing for college. I would probably be a corpse laying on some Kema’dor operating table somewhere.”

  He started to interrupt me, but I pressed on. “No, Ronan. Without you, the Solamure would still exist, they still could have put their infernal technology in my brain, and without you, I’d be in the same predicament this poor Innocent we’re going to save is in. Except there’d be no one to save me. Or them. So stop with the guilt trip.”

  He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “I think you have a skewed point of view. But I’ll drop it.”

  “So what about these warriors?”

  His brow creased and I could tell he was perturbed by the thought of them.

  “Well,” he said slowly, “they aren’t like the scientists or scouts you’ve met so far. They’re the elite—earth’s equivalent of Navy SEALS—and they spend decades and decades in training. Did you know the Kema’dor have nearly a two-hundred-year life span? I’m a ten-year-old white belt next to them.”

  I looked at him skeptically.

  “It’s true,” he insisted. “I’ve spent most of my life doing research. I studied some combat, but when it comes to real life encounters, I’m not going to give you false faith in my ability.”

  “And yet you’ve managed to rescue me from them twice now.”

  “Well, that’s the good news,” he said, sitting back in his chair. “I’m not the best fighter, but with the Solamure tech, I won’t have to be. We’ll just have to be on constant alert.”

  I looked out the window at the clouds below, and found it hard to believe that we soon could be fighting for our lives. It all seemed so peaceful.

  “And on that note, I really think you should get some rest now. There’s a bed in through that doorway.” He gestured toward the door to the left of the TV.

  “What about you? Don’t you think you should get some rest?” I realized after I said it that that sounded like a suggestion, and blushed.

  He tried unsuccessfully to suppress a smile. “Tempting, but I don’t think we’d either of us get much rest if I joined you. I’ll sleep out here on the couch. We have about fifteen hours before we land, so enjoy it while it lasts. Botswana isn’t known for its luxury.”

  I was tired. I stood up and stretched. But before I could leave the confines of our little reverie, Ronan took my hand and gently pulled me into his lap.

  “Sleep well,” he whispered, and landed the tenderest of kisses on my lips.

  I’m not sure what woke me—except for the hum of the plane, all was silent. The queen-sized bed was incredibly comfortable, and I’d been sleeping like the dead. But suddenly I felt wide awake.

  I got up and splashed some water on my face at the sink. Then I tiptoed out of the small room and into the main cabin area.

  Ronan was fast asleep, sprawled over the sofa with one arm hanging down off the side. A little uncertain, I walked to the window and looked out. Except for the stars, all was black. I couldn’t tell if we were flying over clouds, or if I was actually looking down at the Atlantic Ocean.

  The airplane suddenly seemed very tiny and vulnerable. I stepped away from the window.

  And turned to look at Ronan. He looked so peaceful in sleep. What was I doing, really, encouraging him to run away on some rescue crusade? I’ve never been adventurous—not really—not like this.

  All of a sudden I felt incredibly stupid, and foolish, for putting him, myself, and my mom, into this situation. Running halfway across the globe on a whim. What was I thinking? This had to be a mistake.

  Chapter 17

  How long until the fighters arrive at their destination?

  they will have what you desire soon. There’s nothing to get in the way this time.

  A few hours later Ronan woke, and we had a breakfast made up of omelets and fruit salad. All served fresh to us from an altitude of 30,000 feet above sea level. Of course I’d never been to Africa, but I had a hunch I was going to miss American food. Not to mention private jets supplied with personal stewardesses.

  Ronan went in and spoke with the pilot about something, then spent most of the rest of the time on the NeuralCom, “making preparations”. He said he needed some time alone to work. So I browsed the collection of videos the plane offered, and amused myself by watching old episodes of The Twilight Zone.

  I changed into some jeans, sneakers, and a faded yellow t-shirt just before we landed. I also helped myself to the pantry, ja
mming potato chip bags and pop-tart boxes into my suitcase. I’d heard rumors about Africans’ taste for bugs.

  The plane landed, the door was opened, the stairway lowered. I paused a moment at the top to take in the new experience of a foreign country.

  It was brown, flat, and windy. Particularly flat. There was stark contrast from the green mountains we’d left behind.

  Squat little dwellings were sprawled out haphazardly around the one road I saw leading away from the airport. There were some trees that were mostly bare. It didn’t look much like the savannah I’d always pictured when I’d thought of Africa. But at least it wasn’t as hot as I’d been expecting.

  Ronan patiently waited while I had my moment, then reminded me that we had luggage—a lot of luggage to take care of.

  We hired two cabs—one for us, and another for the rest of the suitcases that wouldn’t fit into the first. After a short drive (which I spent trying not to gape out the window at the scantily clad people we passed), we arrived at a hotel.

  It was nice—nicer than I’d hoped after getting a better view of the barren land.

  “We’ll just stay here the night, then drive toward Kgalagadi tomorrow.”

  Ronan made the reservations—everything was done in English, which surprised me a little—and we found ourselves in a spacious room with a canopied bed and a window presenting a pool that looked awfully tempting.

  Ronan passed the evening with the NeuralCom while I went swimming. Afterwards, we walked to a small restaurant not too far from the hotel.

  We began by dining on Serobe, which, in my ravenous state, tasted delicious. That is, until I asked the waiter what was in it.

  “The intestines of goat, mixed with its trotters.”

  “Trotters?”

  “Hooves.”

  After that, I stuck to the diphaphatha, which was basically bread. When the table next to us ordered and was served the “Mopane Worm”, I took a swig of my Coke and could eat no more.

  Thinking of the strawberry pop-tarts tucked away in my suitcase, we headed back to the hotel.