The Sound of Stars

by Alechia Dow

  Mr. Hughes’s wife died when the Ilori came and seized the medical offices. She resisted them, and Mr. Hughes somehow blamed us. If his wife hadn’t left him, he said, she would never have been up there. She would have been downstairs with him, in their lavish condo with their son. Not trying to fix up soldiers to fight the invasion.

  He was at our door telling us this, accusing us, as the Ilori took over. His finger landed on my dad’s chest while tears streamed down his face and hatred blazed in his eyes. Mom and I stood beside Dad, unsure what to do other than tell him to quit it, to go back home. To leave us alone. But a crowd formed around us. They didn’t care about what my dad did or didn’t do. They didn’t care about Mr. Hughes’s poor dead wife. They cared about what would happen next.

  They asked for help. And so my dad gave it to them. He tried to, anyway, before becoming what he is now.

  He stops beside the door, silent. I can feel my anxiety uncoiling in my gut. “What do you want?” He crosses his arms, and mine grasp the sides of my backpack.

  “I—um—came to talk to Jackson. I—” It doesn’t matter what comes out of my mouth. I shouldn’t have come here, and I’ll pay for it. I messed up.

  Jackson spares me from further lies as he comes out with a bag stuffed with linens covering their massive musical collection inside. “Dad, back off. She’s joining the cleaning crew and asked for our linens, that’s all.”

  “Seems about right.” He smirks.

  I grab the bag and run to the basement to drop off my loot before dinner. By the time I’m back in our apartment, my feet ache and my heart’s still pounding. My dad’s waiting at the table, his eyes locked on something beyond my sight.

  “Dad, Mom’s not safe upstairs. The vaccine...” I sit down opposite him and try to connect with him again, even though it’s unlikely to happen two days in a row.

  He doesn’t look at me. “She’ll serve a higher purpose.”

  There’s a rapping on the door, and he goes to get the food. I sit back at the table, trying to understand how I can tell him in a way that whatever part is left of him will understand, that the love of his life won’t be here anymore.

  He sets down two trays of steamed vegetables, beef, rice and oranges. There are two glasses full of grape juice. I can’t help but feel this is our last meal. We’ve never eaten this well under Ilori occupation.

  “Dad, Mom will be gone.”

  He takes a measured bite of rice. “Nothing is ever truly gone.” My mind circles back to the way Morris said nearly the same thing, which means Dad’s more Ilori now.

  I tell myself it’s over, that he’ll never come back, as I shove food into my mouth, undignified and hurried. I don’t even want to be around him, to look at him. He’s not my father anymore. He’s a shell of a once great man, a man who would read Corduroy to me every other night as a child, who took me to the library and let me fall in love with books.

  When Mom’s aunt died and left us this apartment, he was the one who quit his job—the job he loved—and moved us here without complaint. He took a school library position down the block even though they didn’t welcome him here. He did that for us. He taught me to love, to feel safe and to be okay with who I am, even when the world seemed to be against me.

  And he’s nothing now. Same with Mom. The Ilori did this.

  For a moment, I find myself hating Morris. I didn’t vote for the unhinged leader who struck those ships without thought, who made us so vulnerable. I didn’t sign up to lose my childhood. No one asked us.

  I pluck the orange off the table and begin angrily peeling it. My dad glances at me, his fork hovering in midair. “Janelle...”

  I pop an orange slice in my mouth.

  “Janelle.” His voice sounds stronger, more like him again. And I want to believe it’s happening. That he’s lucid and can be there for me. I need him more than ever.

  But there’s another knock on the door. The look of recognition disappears as he walks over and opens it. Dread sinks like a stone to the pit of my stomach.

  A Kill Squad stomps inside.

  I gulp air greedily. My fingers twitch on the table. I know what’s happening. I know it’s time.

  They don’t run; their movements are calm, prepared. They don’t talk; they block the exit and gather around the kitchen. They don’t carry guns—those aren’t allowed anymore—but I have no doubt they’ll hurt me if I do anything but comply. They’re here for me. I couldn’t escape them forever, I knew that. One way or another, I was going to get caught for something.

  Fuck it, my brain says, if I’m going to die, at least I had fun.

  Nothingness washes over me. Silence, peace, grayness. I’m prepared for this moment.

  My dad stands aside as they surround me and lift me from the chair. I don’t speak, I don’t make a sound. I have nothing to say anyway. Maybe this was Morris’s plan all along. Get all the music and books, and then throw me to the wolves. I won’t falter, I won’t cry. I’ll die while I’m still me.

  The intercom comes to life as I’m dragged down the hall.

  “All humans are ordered to the courtyard to witness an execution.”

  My blue sneakers touch the stairs, but not of my own will. The guards won’t let me walk. I wouldn’t mind walking to my own death. I try to push them away so that I can, but they don’t budge.

  The door is open at the top of the stairs to the seventh-floor balcony. The air is cool, giving me the chills. The stars are blocked by ships in the sky and Ilori cranes that continue to destroy everything we humans have built.

  I close my eyes, savoring the rush of fresh air. I haven’t been outside in the nighttime for over a year. I forgot how much I love it. I greedily suck in the breeze drifting around me, letting it cool my lungs and wash over me. I feel so distant from the warm, scared girl who lived below. Now I’m the defiant, cold girl, standing before her death, and feeling a tiny bit proud of that.

  I’m done fighting and holding on.

  They escort me to the edge of the building, and all I can do is look down at everyone. I can make out my dad below. He stares up at me, but I doubt he knows who I am anymore, nor does he care. Then I notice Mr. Hughes. He sneers. He sold me out. I knew it. I was too reckless. Too emotional. At least his son has the decency to appear sad.

  I see so many other faces, some I’ve known for years, some I’ve known for months. My patrons. I wish I could see Alice one more time, and my mom, too.

  “Human JQB-305-7-21 has been accused of illegal activities and paraphernalia. The punishment is death.”

  My mind wanders to A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. The main character, Francie Nolan, stood on a roof and realized her dreams. Now I stand on a roof, not too far away from where she did, about to die for them.

  The rope wraps around my neck, and I tilt my head back, searching for anything to give me a moment of solace. And there I find it—a star. The North Star. I’m not alone.

  No one dies alone.

  A lyric from “Fairy-tale Girl” pops into my mind. “Take your fall forward, but don’t drop too fast.”

  Relief surges through me as I’m pushed into space.

  CHAPTER 8

  “Dreams”

  —The Cranberries

  M0Rr1S

  The speakers interrupt M0Rr1S as he arranges the music and the books like puzzle pieces that can be hidden under a blanket in the car. He’s going to transport Ellie to another center where she will be safe for a little while. AvR0la helped him secure transportation. It’s all set.

  He even snuck into Ellie’s room while she was in the cafeteria and her father was on guard duty, to find anything she might have wanted to take with her. At first glance, the room was bare beyond furniture, but then he saw a flash of color behind the headboard of her bed. A photograph of Ellie and her mother. He plucked it from the wall, revealing a hidden crevice beneath, wh
ere a small pile of books and a few photographs sat. They must mean something to her if she kept them that close.

  She’s his friend—his only friend—in this desolate world. Ellie risks her life for stories, and M0Rr1S risks his position and plans for his love of songs. In this way, they understand each other. At least, he thinks he understands her. Perhaps they can listen to music together. Maybe she can tell him stories. He wonders what her laugh sounds like. No. He cannot become attached. What he is, what he must do, is dangerous. And his people have taken her world.

  But he can’t stop himself either. She is a friend.

  When a voice from overhead explains that there will be an execution, M0Rr1S grimaces. Why do they do this? Why did no one consult him? This is the second one in days. Aren’t they tired of killing? The vaccine is ready, why bother now?

  The speakers crackle again, reminding him that a human will die. The panic hits him in the center of his stomach. What if it’s Ellie?

  He connects to Il-0CoM while bounding up the nearly twenty flights of stairs as fast as his abilities allow.

  Human JQB-305-7-21, accused of illegal activities and paraphernalia.

  M0Rr1S closes his eyes, remembering Ellie’s uniform and the number and frequency stitched into the right collar. A weariness envelops him. It is Ellie.

  He tries to remain calm. We do not need to execute anyone. The vaccine is ready. Stop the execution. This is your commander.

  A true Ilori voice cuts in. Maintain control until all are inoculated.

  Commander, an uprising now would be unwelcome, a general appointed by his father states with a hint of annoyance in his tone.

  There are not enough Ilori troops within proximity. One incident may lead the path to many more.

  We have a functioning vaccine now. A fourth of the population have responded well to it. Only one death from a heart defect. Many more are already primed from the half-solutions program. Only the younger humans are left. We want their obedience; our numbers are decreasing out west, and we have fallen behind schedule. This display is necessary.

  Commander M0Rr1S, do you agree? The voice is from true Ilori command, lurking somewhere above him at this very moment.

  M0Rr1S knows the answer he is supposed to give but he can’t. They can’t take Ellie. She is... She can’t die. He promised.

  He pushes through a crowd of guards wrapped in the darkness and chill of the night. He catches sight of Ellie just as she falls forward off the edge. He sprints across the rooftop, batting guards out of the way, and jumps.

  Time slows.

  The rope will catch her and her neck will snap.

  He focuses on the threads of the rope, fractions of seconds ticking by as he focuses his mind and abilities, pulling string by string, thread by thread until the rope disintegrates and Ellie continues falling. But M0Rr1S plummets faster, breaking the laws of Earth’s nature through sheer will and draining his charge, and scoops her from the air. He lands on his feet with her body draped in his arms. She stares up at him, swallowing air in short bursts, wide-eyed. He holds her tighter.

  They will come for them.

  The humans surround him, half in awe, half in confusion. There are no lights, and the Ilori are unsure what to do. This has never happened before. Where should he go? What should he do?

  Run.

  Ilori are fast, and M0Rr1S is especially capable. He doesn’t wait to figure out a plan before bolting toward escape. He reaches his car, which he’d parked on the other side of the building to load his purloined music into it earlier. There are no guards here; he cleared them before the announcement. He settles her into the passenger seat.

  She’s silent, grasping her neck, as he pumps on the gas and speeds down the rocky, empty streets. Where should they go?

  Out of the city. The Ilori cannot kill him; it’s a crime. But they can kill Ellie, and he promised to save her. She begins coughing.

  M0Rr1S lets one hand fall from the wheel and touches her neck. He cannot heal a human, but his touch will comfort her if he does it just right.

  “Calm, Ellie, calm.” He repeats until she starts taking deep breaths, the cough subsiding.

  “Alice.” Her voice cracks.

  M0Rr1S understands what she wants. Her friend isn’t safe. Maybe he can do something to help her. He sets the steering wheel on autopilot as he risks exposure by flipping the switch and connecting to AvR0la. They use their secure channel of Il-0CoM, which was to be used only in case of an emergency. A command rolls off his mind. “Human girl. I do not know her ID, named Alice. Find her. Save her.”

  AvR0la is silent for a moment, but he knows they’re there. “Sir, your command has been rescinded. The passcode to the pod has been invalidated, your connection to various platforms terminated until Inquisition can determine your state of mind. Avoid Il-0CoM—even secured lines are open to inspection. There is nowhere safe now, you will be hunted. Go west, find an excuse, any that will involve you needing this human. Be creative. Lean into your name and position. Offer to help Acquisitions Force with the human problem however you can. Gain their trust. That may be the only way.”

  “I know you’re displeased—”

  “Disappointed, but all is not lost.” AvR0la sounds resolute, as if this is only a small hitch in their plan. “The mission continues.”

  M0Rr1S’s mind is plagued with concern despite AvR0la’s reassurances. He can’t connect now, he can’t upload or broadcast. He never considered creating a secondary plan if he failed the first. “The code, AvR0la. What will I do?”

  AvR0la pauses. “Find a way to quadrant 11H-R15-B800L. The fallen carrier craft IpS1L. It is the last one left undisturbed, but is close to the Andarran domain. If you set foot on their property, you will breach the treaty, and I am not sure what the outcome will be. And sir...” There is a stiffness in their voice. “There is at least one tracker on your vehicle. It would behoove you to gain some distance before disposing of it, although it would be best if you find alternate transportation.”

  “AvR0la,” M0Rr1S cannot keep the worry from his voice, even if the connection is in his mind. “IpS1L is a tomb. Do we know if it still works?”

  “No one has been aboard since the crash. Leadership is concerned about the Andarran presence. It is a risk you will have to take. Would you like to know the probability—”

  “No. Probability and odds will not help me, not now.”

  After a slight pause, AvR0la’s voice returns almost heavy with emotion. “It was a pleasure serving you, sir.”

  M0Rr1S keeps the surprise from his voice. “Thank you, AvR0la. Thank you for everything. And if they question you...”

  “I will be selective with the truth,” AvR0la finishes.

  “You should hide. They may come for you.”

  AvR0la hesitates. “We all have our role to play, sir. I will do as you have asked. I will take care of these three humans within my capabilities. What G00287 granteth...”

  M0Rr1S does not recite the rest as he normally would. “Be safe.”

  AvR0la disconnects before M0Rr1S, leaving him in temporary silence. At least he was able to do something in his final moments of command, and he was fortunate to have them beside him. His shoulders sag before he hits his charge button. Seventeen percent left. Conservation needed, it flashes.

  “I’m sorry, Ellie.” M0Rr1S should drop his hand from her, but he cannot. She almost died because of him, and he promised that wouldn’t happen.

  She is quiet as she stares out the window. Only darkness surrounds this lone electric car.

  “It isn’t your fault.” Her voice is small, and he wishes he could see her thoughts like AvR0la’s. “Can you pull over?” The words come out choked and short.

  He steers the car over to the side of the deserted highway. Ellie scrambles out of her seat and falls to her knees on the iced pavement. She rips the hat from he
r head, and thick black curls tumble across her back.

  M0Rr1S bolts out of the car and runs to her. He falls beside her and holds her hair back as she vomits, her body wavering in the wind and cold. His hands graze the back of her neck as he brushes pieces of rope away.

  “I thought I died. I mean—I thought I was going to die. It doesn’t seem real.”

  “You’re okay now. Shhh...you’re okay. I promise.” Ellie gazes at him, and he wonders if she is truly seeing him for who he is—what he is—or if she is really looking at him at all.

  “Morris, my parents. My best friend is... I don’t know where—”

  “Safe. Hidden. They’re okay. It’s okay.” He pats her shoulder again.

  “Nothing’s okay.” She angles her head toward the smaller hovercrafts marring the black sky above the city. He wants to comfort her, and the truth is all he can give her.

  “My father told me if I didn’t do well here, my execution would be broadcast across the colonies as an example of his discipline. After, he would punish my mother for my many faults. It is her material that lies within me, and therefore she will be held accountable.” M0Rr1S drags a hand through his hair. “All my life, he told me that there was something wrong with me. Something defective. I feel, you see. Ilori aren’t supposed to feel, and especially not express emotions. We are supposed to be strong, obedient and unwavering in our loyalty.”

  Ellie turns to him, her eyes wide.

  “I knew when I was a child that I did not, and could not, fit or belong. When my father presented me with this ultimatum, I boarded a ship without hesitation. I could not bear the thought of my mother...” He can’t finish the thought. “I told myself I would find a way to save her and please him. But then I found music. The music led me to you. And you understand it, this need.” M0Rr1S inhales the cool air, his fingers entwining in the curls at the base of her neck.