Phoebe North - Starbreak

Raza Ait. I had named it in my mind without even realizing it. It was the first city we’d ever seen, many times the length of our ship and far more surprising. We watched it grow longer beneath us as the metal capsule came in close.

I spoke softly, speaking aloud without thinking. “The copper city.”

But the sight of it didn’t fill me with relief. Because in my head all I could hear was the echo of the boy’s voice, pitiful and lonely; all I could see was the wounded look in his eyes as he’d drawn his hands away. The city where I die , he’d said. I found myself crossing my fingers in my lap, hoping against hope that it wouldn’t be true.

Hoping that my boy was a survivor too.

The city was gated with bars of towering copper filigree, dozens of meters high. Through the gaps we could see the shadows of buildings, though we couldn’t touch them, not yet. Especially not after the hunters tied our hands in front of us with lengths of synthetic rope.

At the gates we were met by a retinue of aliens. Their clothes were finer than the others, though they, too, carried long metallic prods at their sides. As the gates swung open, groaning on hinges gone green, the aliens examined us with black, lively eyes. In whistling tones they conversed with one another. Then they lifted our arms, smelled our hair, bared their teeth. I watched as Aleksandra pulled away from one of them, growling, as though their touch seared her skin. But I stayed as still and calm as I could. For one thing I didn’t want to scare Ettie, who stood just a small way up ahead, her bound hands twisting in their shackle. For another, I thought if I watched carefully, then perhaps I’d see my boy—if not among our fur-faced escorts, then definitely among the city’s wider inhabitants.

The atmosphere inside the city walls was different. It was as warm and fragrant as summer here, the air as sweet as fruit left to rot on the Asherah ’s damp ground. On the ship such a smell would have only attracted houseflies. Here there were no insects. But there were people. Thousands of them. They loitered by the mouths of buildings and underneath the thick canopy of the interior forest. It seemed that they’d gathered for our arrival, and they craned their necks as we passed among them. Many of them were furred, small in stature. They seemed bold—dashing down the thoroughfares to catch a glimpse, grabbing for us as we walked by.

But they weren’t alone. There were other creatures, smooth-skinned, their bodies shining like rubies in the afternoon sunlight. They wore gowns stitched from bolts of smooth, metallic fabric, but even from beneath the lengths of cloth, I could smell them, summer-sweet as they perspired. They kept to the edges of the streets, and though their gazes were no less curious, they seemed somehow afraid of us. Most clutched the nearby hands of their companions—long, three-fingered hands—and, owlishly, watched.

They stood three or four heads taller than the aliens who guided us through the streets; one or two heads taller than any of us. And as we passed, they twisted their spines, gazing down curiously. Their bodies coiled and crept like vines. It reminded me of something.

It reminded me of the boy.

He was here, he had to be. I whipped my head about, searching. But if he was tucked somewhere among all these bright, shining people, then I didn’t find him. Only teeth and eyes and fingers greeted me, probing, cold. I stumbled at the sight, but then one of the creatures pressed his weapon against my spine, pushing me forward. I walked on.

Up ahead Ettie cried. I heard Rebbe Davison trying to comfort her, repeating over and over again that everything would be all right soon. But I didn’t feel so certain. It was so crowded here—in the pavilion up ahead were hundreds of aliens, lazing beneath the dripping vines. And they all watched us, their toothy mouths open, murmuring “Hyuuu-man, hyuu-man” as we passed. No wonder Ettie was upset.

“I’m scared! I’m scared!” she panted, and her progress stopped dead. She wouldn’t go any farther. The others from the Asherah turned back to look at her, but pressed by prods and alien hands, they all walked on. I felt my heart squeeze hard in my chest. Rushing ahead, I crouched down so that our gazes met. Her eyes were the color of mahogany, flecked with amber bits. And they were full of tears.

“Ettie,” I said, my voice serious. I didn’t want to lie to her. That’s what the grown-ups had always done to me, telling me that my mother would be fine, that my family would be fine. They’d said that we just had to keep our chins up and live on and everything would be okay. But I’d been smart enough to hear their lies even then—even though people thought I was nothing more than a stupid little girl. Ettie was smarter than that now. “It’s scary, isn’t it? This place. So much bigger than the Asherah .”

She reached her small, dirty hands up, cradling them over mine as she gave her head a fierce nod. “I don’t like the way they look at me,” she said, and let out another hiccup of tears.

“No,” I said. Behind me a creature pressed his prod to my back. His mouth was open wide. There were probably four dozen teeth in there as, sharp as needles, all lined up in front of his bright purple tongue. “I don’t either.”

“Ettie!”

It was Aleksandra. Her hair was coming undone, stubborn black hairs worming out of the braid. She seemed to have lost all of her patience, all of her poise. Just another difference between her and her mother, I guess. Captain Wolff could keep up appearances, but Aleksandra’s emotions were much closer to the surface of her pretty white face.

Ettie turned, staring fearfully at Aleksandra.

“What?”

“Pull yourself together. You’re not a baby.”

Her words might as well have been a slap, for the way that Ettie winced at them. In the distance I saw Rebbe Davison give his head a dismayed shake. My own brow furrowed. But Ettie didn’t see that through her sheen of tears. She wiped her eyes against her shoulder. Her chin trembled. But soon it stilled.

“I’m sorry, Giveret Wolff,” she nearly whispered. She trudged forward, her hair a black net over her eyes.

I gaped at Aleksandra. The edge of her lip ticked up at me.

“It’s up to me to see that our people stay strong. Even the young ones.”

But when I looked at Ettie, I wasn’t certain that Aleksandra’s words had helped one bit. Her small shoulders were hunched; her head hung down as if she couldn’t bear to face the city that surrounded us. And what about the people Aleksandra had left behind—hundreds of them, packed like sardines into the tin can of our ship? How was she helping them ?

But then I felt something cold against my back. A weapon’s blunted end. I glanced behind me. There was an alien, snarling, showing every single tooth.

“I’m going! I’m going!” I said, and continued the long march into the heart of the city.

The dome overhead seemed to amplify the sunlight; it burned strong enough that soon my body swam with sweat inside my flight suit. The others didn’t look much better off: Aleksandra’s hair was pasted to her neck. Perspiration rolled down Jachin’s face in a steady stream. Though Rebbe Davison’s hands were bound, every few minutes he still managed to wipe his palms against his flight suit trousers. And Laurel?

Well, I couldn’t blame the heat for her condition. She sniffled hard again and again, trying to suck back the tears. But it didn’t do any good. By the time we reached the western edge of the city, where the ground dipped into an overshadowed park, she’d slicked the entire front of her flight suit. But she didn’t seem to care, and if she did, I’m not sure she could have stopped anyway—no matter what Aleksandra said.