Starswept

by Mary Fan

The words sink in, and I’m both glad that Jaerin was prepared and furious that he let me think all would be lost if I were caught. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “If I had and Martoke read your mind, then even this contingency plan would have failed.” He kneels beside Dámiul. “What happened? Was he hit?”

  “No, he… collapsed. Martoke…” I trail off, and my eyes sting as I recall what Martoke did while I stood there watching, helpless to intervene.

  “I see.” Jaerin reaches toward Dámiul, his expression filled with a combination of anger and sorrow. He puts his hand on Dámiul’s shoulder and stares into his face. His blue eyes glow brighter, and I wonder if he’s trying to use his telepathy to wake Dámiul.

  Dámiul stirs, and his eyes flutter open.

  “Ona esi dira, dáven teris.” Jaerin smiles.

  Dámiul stares at Jaerin, brow furrowed. He must be trying to remember his brother, like he tried to remember me. “I’ve seen you before—on the transport. I know you’re my brother, but there’s so much I can’t remember.”

  “You will.” Jaerin helps Dámiul stand. “Come, we don’t have much time.” He enters the corridor ahead.

  Dámiul follows, then grabs the edge of the door. His head falls forward, and both Jaerin and I rush to him. Dámiul holds up his hand and starts to speak, but doesn’t seem to have the strength to form words. Jaerin takes Dámiul’s arm and puts it over his shoulder. “Let me help you. I’ll get you out of here.”

  I step forward, aiming to take Dámiul’s other arm. Even if he falls again, Jaerin and I can carry him out.

  “Iris.” Jaerin pulls a weapon out of his holster. “Take this. I need you to run ahead and see if there’s any trouble coming our way.”

  I accept the weapon. I glance at Martoke’s access card on the ground, then realize I won’t need it. The next door I encounter will be the one Atikéa opened from the outside. Holding the weapon in front of me, I make my way around the unconscious guards.

  I glance back. Dámiul leans against Jaerin, and the two slowly make their way forward. From the way Dámiul’s head keeps drooping, I can tell he’s struggling to stay conscious.

  As much as I want to rush over and comfort him, Jaerin gave me a job to do, and we’re not out of trouble yet. I carefully make my way forward, listening for any movement. To my relief, I see no one when I reach the end of the corridor. “It’s safe.”

  “Good.” Jaerin approaches me. “I disabled the alarms, so as long as no one comes this way, we should be all right.”

  “How did you get in?”

  “Through the door we’re about to leave from, but opening it turned out to be more complicated than we thought it would be.” Jaerin rounds the corner with Dámiul, and I notice an unexpected sorrow in his expression. “We don’t have much further before we reach Kéa.”

  The corridor is eerily silent. Except for my own footsteps and the noise of my breath, I don’t hear anything. I reach the end. A rectangular door lies to my right with the Adryil word for “exit” glowing above it in orange lights. Recalling Atikéa’s instructions, I press my hands against its cold surface and push to the left, relying on the friction of my palms to move it. The door slides open, revealing a dark alley. The wide gate before a neighboring building opens, and a hovering black vehicle emerges. Atikéa’s purple gaze glows through the windshield.

  She stops the vehicle and steps out. The door to the vehicle’s back opens. I move out of the way so Jaerin can help Dámiul inside.

  Dámiul scarcely seems aware of his surroundings. He crumples onto the seat.

  Jaerin puts his hands on Dámiul’s shoulders and looks into his eyes. “Ona en eládor, dáven teris.” He kisses Dámiul’s forehead, then straightens and turns to Atikéa. “He needs medical attention immediately.”

  Atikéa nods. “Yandria is waiting at our headquarters.”

  “Good.” Jaerin turns to me. “Make sure Dámiul stays conscious. He’s fading.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  Before Jaerin can answer, the white corridor behind him turns red from flashing lights. Cacophonous buzzing sounds from the building, and I tense.

  Jaerin turns back to the door. “Go!”

  Atikéa grabs his shoulder. “Jaerin!” She pulls him close and kisses him, wrapping her arms around him tightly.

  A second later, Jaerin pushes her back. “I’m sorry, Kéa.” He runs back inside, and the door shuts behind him.

  “Get in the vehicle.” Atikéa wipes her eyes and returns to the pilot’s seat.

  I automatically respond to the authority in her voice and climb into the back beside Dámiul. The vehicle’s doors slam shut.

  Dámiul sits up with a start, as if startled out of a reverie. “Where’s my brother?”

  Atikéa steers the vehicle up toward the dark sky. “He went to lead them away, giving us the chance to escape.”

  Dámiul turns toward the window with alarm. “We can’t—”

  “Dámiul!” Atikéa’s voice is sharp. “This was always part of the plan. If they saw us, they’d be upon us within minutes. Jaerin’s going to draw them off.”

  “How will he escape?”

  “He won’t.” Atikéa veers the vehicle around a skyscraper. “He knew he wouldn’t be able to. When they capture him, he’ll use his last resort.” Her voice quivers. “He had his own head implanted with memory erasers, except they haven’t been activated yet. He has the trigger with him. When he presses it, they’ll wipe all his memories from the past four years. No matter how they probe him, they won’t get any answers.”

  “How could you let him do that?” Dámiul’s voice is labored, and I can tell he’s growing weak again.

  “It was the only way we could get you out.” Atikéa twists to face Dámiul. “Do you think I want to be forgotten? I love him, but tomorrow, he won’t even remember my name.” She turns back. “You matter too much to him, and if I’d tried to stop him, I would have lost him anyway.”

  “We have to go back. I—”

  “This is what Jaerin wants. If you love him, you’ll accept his choice, as I did.”

  Dámiul leans back and closes his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  I recall how a part of me wanted to die when Dámiul didn’t remember me. I can’t imagine how Atikéa must feel, knowing Jaerin chose to forget her. But if Dámiul could recover his memories, surely Jaerin could as well. “Maybe we can get Jaerin out later, and his memories will come back.”

  “No.” Atikéa’s voice is soft. “He told me not to come for him. It would be too dangerous, and he made me swear I wouldn’t let Dámiul try anything either. But he’ll still be who he is, and I hope that someday, when we meet again, he’ll know in his heart that we’re meant to be.”

  I can believe that. Even before he remembered me, I saw the core of who Dámiul was behind the shell they tried to turn him into. Surely, the same will be true for Jaerin.

  Dámiul falls toward me, and his head drops over his chest. “Dámiul?” His eyes are closed, and he doesn’t respond. Jaerin told me not to let him lose consciousness. I shake him hard. “Dámiul!”

  Dámiul’s eyelids flutter. He tries to speak, but no words come out.

  “Stay with me.” I put my arm around his. “Please, Jaerin said you have to stay awake.”

  “What happened to him?” Atikéa sounds worried.

  I tell her what happened when Martoke tried to interrogate him, then how Dámiul took control of Martoke and what that did to him.

  “Keep him awake.” Atikéa sounds tense. “I’m going as fast as I can.”

  “Why? What’s happening to him?”

  “What Dámiul did could have killed him. If he loses consciousness again, he might not wake up.”

  He could die—because of me. Tears stream down my cheeks. Please, don’t take him away from me. Not now. Not when we’re so close to safety. I don’t know who I’m calling to anymore, but I want to believe that someone will hear me.

  Dámiul’s head sinks a
gainst my shoulder. He blinks slowly, as if his eyes want to fall shut again, and he’s fighting to keep them open. Once brilliant in their luminance, they hardly glow anymore. “I’m trying, Iris.” His voice is barely a whisper.

  I hold him close, wishing I could transfer my strength to him. Maybe if I can keep him talking, he won’t slip away again. “What was it like, the first time you used the Zexa device to talk to me?”

  For a moment, Dámiul doesn’t reply. “I barely knew how to use it. I stole it from TalentCorp’s office in Charlotte the same day I broke into Papilio. Before that, it never occurred to me that I’d need one, since using one to keep in touch with Ximena would have put her in danger if she were ever caught with it. All I knew about you then was that your curiosity was stronger than your fear, and that was why I entrusted the device to you. Then I came to know you, and you were such a surprise to me.”

  I feel an involuntary smile spread across my lips.

  “I’ve spent my entire life surrounded by Ka’risil, but other than Ximena, I never really knew them.” Dámiul continues before I can respond. Weary as he appears, an undying brightness burns on in his expression. “I thought she was the rare exception, and that most Artists would be subservient drones, like the Ka’risil here. Instead, I found you—someone devoted to an unshakable belief in something sublime, who found light in everything she encountered and would rather believe foolishly in the good than try to outsmart the world by believing in evil. You’re so beautiful, and yet you don’t seem to realize it. I remember how you tried to tell me you were considered plain and wondering how that could be when, each time I saw you, everything around you seemed to disappear.”

  My face grows warm. I’ve never had someone admire me like that before. “I think our standards at Papilio are different from yours.”

  Dámiul gives me a weak smile. “I see nothing’s changed.” His smile falls, and his eyes close.

  I give him a shake. “Dámiul!”

  He opens his eyes.

  I need him to start talking again, so I quickly say, “How did you become an Abolitionist?”

  “If you’re referring to the actual organization, the answer is ‘by being rescued by them.’” He pauses, then shakes his head slowly. “It’s a blur… I remember arguing with Jaerin—him telling me to stay out of the fight and me refusing. I remember coming to the meetings anyway, but walking out because I thought they weren’t moving fast enough. Then trying to enlist them to help Ximena and walking out again when they refused.” He knits his eyebrows. “My father showed me TalentCorp’s operations when I was a child. He wanted me to understand his business, but something terrible happened…” He trails off.

  The strain is visible in his expression, and I realize the folly in asking him about memories still buried beneath the prison’s telepathic manipulations. I open my mouth to give him a different topic to talk about.

  “He took me to see them,” Dámiul continues before I can speak. “The ones who had just boarded a starship from Earth. He wanted me to see how the Artists were molded into obedient Ka’risil. There was a girl… She had a family. Instead of forgetting them, she realized that someone was taking her memories, and she fought back. She was screaming.”

  “That’s horrible.” I shudder. If I’d realized what Erayet was doing, that could have been me.

  “My father ordered her mind erased and assured everyone that such incidents were extremely rare. His only concerns were how he would refund the customer and protect TalentCorp’s reputation.” Dámiul glances away. “He was so cold.”

  The pain in his voice makes my heart ache for him. I squeeze his hand, yearning to take the hurt away.

  “I wish I could have trained every Artist to guard their minds, but TalentCorp was always watching.” His voice is so soft, I can barely hear him. “So I only trained the one who mattered most to me. Perhaps it was selfish, but if they’d found out what we were doing, all would have been lost.”

  I lean back, wrapping my mind around his words. It’s still hard to believe how all-powerful TalentCorp really is to those living under their control. I wonder what choices I would have made, had I been in Dámiul’s position. I wish I could whisper the truth to everyone at Papilio, as he once intended, but with TalentCorp’s omnipresence, it wouldn’t have taken long for the secret to come out. A revolt would have damaged the company, yes, but the cost would have been the lives of those involved.

  I wouldn’t have done it either. For Papilio, salvation can only come from outside.

  A light catches my attention, and I look out the window. Atikéa steers the vehicle down a long, brown passageway illuminated by dim yellow lights. She stops before a wide door, which I recognize as the one leading to the Abolitionists’ hideout.

  I exhale. We made it.

  CHAPTER 36

  THE DOOR TO THE ROOM slams shut, with Dámiul, Atikéa, and the scarlet-haired Adryil doctor behind it. I couldn’t make out any of the hurried Adryil words Atikéa exchanged with the woman. I wish the room had a window so I could see what they’re doing.

  My mind seems incapable of forming even the usual self-reassurances. Tension grips me so tightly, I wonder how I haven’t shattered into a million pieces yet. The horrific images of blood streaming down his face, of him convulsing on the floor, of him fighting just to keep his eyes open, run wild through my mind. What if the doctor can’t save him? What if we’ve come all this way, only to lose him now?

  I never told him I love him. The realization hits me like a cold fist, and the sobs that have been threatening to emerge shake my chest. I cover my face and let them out. Maybe it doesn’t matter, but I can’t stand the thought of losing my chance forever.

  The door slides open, and an acrid, chemical smell floats toward me. I look up in time to catch a glimpse of Dámiul lying in the white med pod with the doctor standing over him. Atikéa steps out, and the door shuts again.

  I have so many questions, but the tension seems to have stifled my words.

  Atikéa approaches me with a look of sympathy. “Dámiul will be all right, Iris. Yandria is a skilled doctor, as well as a trusted member of the Abolition. She’s going to remove the implants the reeducation center put in Dámiul, and he should be able to regain all his memories.”

  I try to find comfort in Atikéa’s words, but the tension keeps its hold over me. “What about everything Martoke did to him? Can she fix that too?”

  “Yes.” Atikéa gives me a reassuring smile. “Believe me, any worries you have, Jaerin already thought of them. He knew there was a good chance Dámiul would be hurt during the escape, so he had as much medical equipment smuggled here as he could. He wanted to be prepared for everything from blast wounds to drug withdrawal. Fortunately, much of that won’t be needed.”

  I manage to nod mutely. My eyes remain fixed on the door behind Atikéa.

  Atikéa puts her hand on my back. “Come. It won’t do you any good to stand here like this.”

  Knowing she’s right, I let her guide me away. “When can I see him?”

  “You may visit after Yandria finishes the surgery, although Dámiul will be asleep by then.” Atikéa leads me toward one of the doors on the other side of the room. “In the meantime, I think you should get some rest as well.” She opens the door, which leads to a dimly lit corridor. “I’m afraid our hideout won’t be as comfortable as your Ka’risil quarters were, but I hope you’ll find your room decent enough.”

  My room? I never thought about what would happen to me. If everything had gone according to the original plan, I would have returned to the backstage area before anyone noticed I was missing. But I realize now that since Martoke and a number of other guards saw me helping Dámiul escape, there’s no way I can go back.

  “What’s going to happen to me?” I ask.

  Atikéa stops before a door with the Adryil symbol for the number seven painted on it. “You’ll have to stay here, in hiding, until I can figure out how to get you to safety. We may be able to return you
to the Ydayas if we can convince the authorities that you were a clueless Earthling manipulated by Adryil telepathy. Don’t worry, Iris. I’ll take care of you.”

  “Thank you.” I hope I can find a way to go back. In the Ka’risil quarters, I can do for others as Cara did for me: spread the truth and recruit supporters for the Abolition. There’s not much—if anything—I can do here in the hideout.

  The door opens, revealing a small, square room lit by a white, circular light on the left wall. A cot sits in the corner, and there’s a narrow door across from it.

  Atikéa motions for me to enter. “That door leads to a bathroom shared with the room beside you, which is currently unoccupied. Our supporters come from all parts of Adrye, and sometimes they stay here.” She gives me a fond smile. “I must say, I never imagined you’d take part in an Abolitionist mission. When Cara first told me she had a new recruit, I thought the most you’d be doing was whispering the truth to the other Ka’risil you came across.”

  “I never thought I’d do anything like this either.” I approach the bed, and it hits me how far I’ve come since I first met Dámiul. I used to be invisible, known only as “viola girl” by most of the Orchestra. The most I dared hope for was a job as a performer. My destiny was so set, I could see it: I would find a patron or accept whichever job my school placed me in. Either way, I would have been a cog in a system, never worrying about what came next because it was all decided for me.

  Now, the future is clouded, and I can’t see the way forward. But at least I helped save the boy I love. Perhaps, together, we can change the fates of thousands of Artists like me. And then, if we fight hard enough, maybe we can change the way the Adryil treat the noncompliant. What Martoke did to Dámiul was nothing short of evil, and I can’t stand the thought of it happening to anyone else.

  Atikéa reaches into her pocket. “Here.” She hands me a watch similar to the one I used to always wear at Papilio. “If you need anything, my contact information is in here. It’s also connected to the Adryil Planetary Network. I had it programmed with a function that translates everything into English.”