Phoebe North: Starbreak

“Alex, we have the ship,” Rebbe Davison said. “What more do you want?”

His voice sounded hoarse, fearful. Aleksandra clipped the radio to his belt. She studied his face—his thinning hair, the wrinkles that formed parentheses at the edges of his mouth. And then her own mouth softened.

“Nothing, Mordecai.” Her lips spread into a wide grin. It was a politician’s smile—charming, trustworthy. “I’m as happy as a clam.”

He hesitated—nodded. But as he turned away, her eyes caught mine. Her expression? Went as cold as ice.

“We’ll go east,” Aleksandra said as the fire began to fade. By then the sun had pressed deep into the mountain ridge. Two of the three moons were rising. Akku and Aire. I saw how we’d strayed from the path in our quest to find the source of the fire, drifting farther and farther into the woods. But how could I come out and tell her we were going the wrong way when all eyes were on her, shining with admiration? The words caught at the base of my throat.

But Rebbe Davison spoke for me. “What’s east?”

There was an intensity in his question that was new; it made me sit straighter on the log. Aleksandra sat forward too, her eyes as dark as the smoke that whispered around us. Suddenly she stood, grabbing a slender twig on a nearby branch. The twig undulated in the open air until she snapped it off and it was still. Dead. She pressed the narrow end into the crust of snow and began to draw a jagged line with it.

“This is the coastline,” she said as the others scrambled to gather around her. I stayed where I sat, glimpsing her rough diagram from between their shoulders. “Before we departed for the planet, my mother received a transmission from the shuttle crew. It originated from here, near the largest array of lights. They said that the inhabitants are hostile. At least one crew member was injured.”

Hannah, my brother Ronen’s wife. Council-born daughter. Cartographer. The last time I’d glimpsed her pretty features, they’d been streaked with blood. She’d sounded so afraid . I clenched my hands between my knees, wondering if the cold that bit through my flight suit gloves came from the chilly evening or from within.

“The next closest light cluster is here,” Aleksandra said, jabbing the stick higher along the coastline. “East of our current location. I’m hoping that the inhabitants there will be amenable to negotiations if the others aren’t.”

“Negotiations,” Rebbe Davison echoed faintly. He glanced eastward as if he could see the city straight through hundreds of kilometers of forest and mountain. “What makes you think they’ll be willing to talk to us? We’re strangers to them. We’re nothing.”

Aleksandra stood tall. She thrust the stick into the embers. We all watched as the flames leaped up, enveloping it. “You remember what we learned in school, Mordecai,” she said, a smile curling her lips. But it was a fond smile, teasing, without malice. “The planet Earth was fractured. Many cities. Many cultures. Even on the Asherah , we’ve had factions. The Children of Abel on one hand. The Council on the other.”

“Diversity,” Rebbe Davison said. “You’re right. It’s unlikely that we’d find a monoculture here. But even so, that doesn’t mean that we’ll even be able to speak to them—”

“Maybe we won’t,” Aleksandra agreed, tucking a hand inside the open flap of her flight suit. On a knife’s hilt, I realized. She carried the ceremonial blade of a guardsman with her even now, so far away from the culture of our ship. But she’d carried it not only for ceremony but also for the death it could bring. “There’s a chance that any alien life forms we encounter might be hostile. But the eastward settlement is closer, and smaller. We need to be patient, and we need to be on guard. If we’re going to conquer these lands—”

“Conquer these lands!” The words spilled out before I could stop them. I firmed my jaw, gazing into the blue-tongued flames even as Aleksandra turned her attention toward me.

“Yes, Terra?” she said. This time her smile had teeth.

“They’re not our enemies,” I said fiercely. I thought back to the boy, to the way his arms enveloped me like vines on a wall. I felt so safe inside them. But Aleksandra didn’t know that. She only let out a short, dry laugh.

“You saw the transmission,” she said. “Care to tell the others what you saw?”

“The aliens,” I said, weaker now, as she found my cracks and fixed her fingers into them. “Their bodies move like grass in the wind. Their eyes are black. A night without moons or stars.”

“Tell them about Hannah,” Aleksandra prodded. I drew in a breath, held it. Finally I drew my gaze down to my knees.

“She was bleeding. She asked us to come save her.”

“They sound real friendly,” Deklan said, letting out a skeptical grunt. He turned away from me and toward Aleksandra, who was ready, even as the night deepened around us, with her plan.

I felt my stomach sink as she spoke. We’d leave with the morning’s first light, tracking Epsilon Eridani as it rose through the sky. I remembered the way the boy’s voice sounded in my head as he urged me south. Fearful. Passionate. But none of them knew anything about that . Instead they only saw the sharp, certain movements of Aleksandra’s hands and heard the ferocity of her warning. Hostile. The aliens were hostile. Her followers all held their rifles to their chests, not just her guards but Rebbe Davison, and Deklan, and Jachin, and Laurel, too.

Only Ettie stayed apart from the rest, sitting beside me on a log, watching as the embers died. For a long time she didn’t speak. Her hair was a dark net over her eyes. But at last she slipped her hand in next to my hand.

“I don’t like this plan,” she said. “What if there are monsters ?”

“I’ll keep you safe from them,” I said. I’d brought Ettie here, after all. I wasn’t going to let anything happen to her.

“With your gun?”

The weapon still rested across my knees. Ettie reached out and touched the barrel gently, as if the metal might spring to life at any moment.

“With my hands and fists and teeth if I have to,” I said. I put an arm around her and held her close. Her body shook next to mine. I realized she was weeping then, but I wasn’t surprised. It had been a long day—for all of us. I knew I should have said something, offering apologies for her grandfather’s death or comforting words. But I’d never been any good at that. Everything I could offer seemed awkward, wrong. My words withered before I could speak them

“Now I think it’s time we get some rest,” Aleksandra said, speaking too loudly, I think, to mean only the group gathered around her. She meant the rest of us, too—Ettie and me especially. “It’ll be a long hike tomorrow before we can reach the city.”

Ettie rose, still sniffling. To my surprise she turned to look back at me.

“Thank you, Terra,” she said. I gave an uncertain nod. It seemed like I’d done so little—shared a hug, a few comforting words. But maybe, just maybe, my being there had been enough.

The rest of them worked together, driving their tent stakes into the hard, half-frozen ground. But I only watched. My eyes were wide, taking in the darkness. I needed to go to the city, where I would be safe, where the boy waited for me. I needed to stand up to Aleksandra, to prove to her that I was someone worth listening to. And if that didn’t work, I needed to strike out on my own. But I couldn’t . I watched as Rebbe Davison held a stake and Ettie swung the mallet, grinning proudly as the tears dried on her face. She was here only because of me. They all were, and I knew it. My guilt was an invisible thread tying us together. We were bound even as they all crawled inside the tent and disappeared into the darkness, leaving me alone there with Aleksandra Wolff.