Phoebe North - Starbreak

“Silvan and I,” she said in a strong, clear voice, “have talked a lot about the kind of world we want to build for our people. The Council did a lot of things we don’t agree with. Getting in the way of marriages, for instance. So long as his father and Captain Wolff and the rest of them were all in power, our love could never be. It’s not right. I believe that so long as a husband honors his wife, and provides for her—and as long as she’s dutiful and sweet to him, well then, what does it matter if he’s the captain and she’s a merchant girl? It shouldn’t!”

I could tell from the way that her smile grew, and then faded—from the way that she jutted out her jaw, steeling herself for my response—that Rachel was warming up to something, some argument that she held dear.

“But then Silvan asked me about marriages between two men, like Koen and Van. Or even two women. He asked me to look in the Torah, to find out what it had to say. He’s only just learning, but he wants to understand the world, like I do—what our rituals mean, and how we can do them better.”

My mouth was dry as I watched her. I’d never seen her like this before—so passionate, so certain. She wasn’t even thinking about how her words might hurt me. She hadn’t even considered it.

“I found stories. Sodom and Gomorrah. Two cities, visited by God’s messengers. They were in search of good, honest men. But the men of the city were wicked, and wanted to lie down with them. To schtup them. God destroyed them for their depravity.” She gazed at me pointedly, like I was meant to read the meaning between the lines. She wasn’t only calling Koen and Van depraved. In Rachel’s eyes I, too, had wicked desires.

“I’m not depraved!”

My answer came, quick and frantic, but Rachel hardly heard it. She just kept talking.

“You’ll find someone else. We have years and years—our whole lives. Silvan doesn’t want to force people to marry. He wants them to choose . You’ll find someone. Maybe not Silvan or Koen, but—”

“No,” I said swiftly, cutting her off. “There’s no one else. It’s Vadix or it’s nobody.”

I hadn’t realized it was true until I said it, how already my image of the future was getting all tangled up with him. But it was. And no matter how hard Rachel tried, she wouldn’t be able to cut those threads. They were made out of steel.

“But you’ll have plenty of time to get over him,” she said. Before I could answer, she added: “The whole trip back to Earth!”

“Earth?” I couldn’t help but scowl at the word. “It’s a fool’s quest! Destroyed, Rachel, and we all know it.”

“But we were spared!” she said. And that’s when I knew that the idea—the whole crazy lot of it—began and ended with Rachel. “It’s happened before, don’t you see? In ancient times God sent the floods to the Earth to cleanse it. But he had a man named Noah build a boat to save his family. And then later we were slaves in the deserts of Earth, but he saved us then, too—just like the people of the Asherah were spared the asteroid’s wrath. We’re special, Terra. Chosen. And God gave us a home once. On Earth. ‘I swore to your ancestors that I would give them this land, and now it falls to you to inherit it.’ ”

Her chest quivered as she spoke. I’d never seen her like this before. I’d seen her happy, and I’d seen her sad. I’d seen tears trickle down Rachel’s pretty face, and I’d seen her collapse into hysterical laughter. But I’d never heard her speak with such gravity. Her words sank into me like a rock dropped from a great height into silver water.

“It’s called Israel. Israel. And it’s out there somewhere. Silvan asked the Council scientists. They say that there’s a chance the Earth might be inhabitable by the time we return. There’s a chance it wasn’t destroyed at all! Can you imagine it? Coming home one thousand years after our ancestors left?”

I leaned over, hugging myself. “No, I can’t imagine it,” I said. And I couldn’t. Earth was dead. I’d read all about it in my schoolbooks, and in the journal I’d inherited through my mother’s line. Near the end days, there were riots there, too. Bombs. The religious waited in their enclaves for their gods to save them. I guess Rachel was no different, placing her trust in forces she could not see. She had faith. But my ancestor hadn’t been like that, and neither was I. Maybe it was genetic. Maybe I was too cynical, too hard. Whatever the reason, Rachel’s words didn’t comfort me. They only made my stomach clench.

“A chance,” I said. “You’d hang your children’s future on a chance.”

I bit down on my lip, peeling away the sun-scorched skin. Rachel reached out. She put her dark hand on mine.

“You don’t believe, do you?”

“No,” I said swiftly as I tasted blood. “No, I don’t.”

“It must be so sad for you, living a life without miracles. All alone in the world.”

I wasn’t alone. I had Vadix. But to Rachel his love didn’t count. It was too twisted, too depraved . When I only stared off into the dark corners of Ronen’s guest bedroom, she drew her hand back and forced a laugh.

“Look at us,” she said. “Fighting like old times.”

It was ridiculous. We’d hardly ever fought when we were young. No, the fights came later—with boys and secrets and adulthood, with choices that mattered. But I made myself smile at her. It was no use holding on to a life that had already passed me by.

“It’s not why I came, anyway,” she said, a wistful smile gracing her mouth. “I heard you were here, and I wanted to ask you to join us.”

“Me?” I went cold. I had so much to worry about already—the Asherati, and the senate and their decree, and Vadix far, far below. The last thing I needed was to worry about hurting Rachel’s feelings.

“I can’t return to Earth, Raych. I’ve been waiting my entire life to settle Zehava. We—we had a contract,” I said weakly, reaching for any strand I could grasp. “We were peaceful and compliant. In exchange the Council has to give us Zehava.”

“We can’t live on a planet that isn’t ours ,” she said. I heard a curious echo in her voice. Smug. Self-assured. Silvan. “Liberty on Zehava—isn’t that what the rebels wanted? Well, it’s not going to happen. We land there, and we’ll be beholden to those creatures . We’ll be slaves. Is that what you want?”

“It wouldn’t be like that. The Xollu and the Ahadizhi—”

“The what?”

“The aliens. They’ve worked together for centuries—”

Millennia, Vadix gently corrected. But by then Rachel had turned away from me. I set my lips into a scowl.

“I didn’t come here to debate politics,” she said, her voice trembling. “You need to come to the bow. I don’t want anything to happen to you. Silvan doesn’t either.”

I thought of the poison—the look on Silvan’s father’s face on what was to be our wedding day. Sweat had trailed over his face in rivers, pasting his silver-scattered hair down against his head.

“If Silvan only knew—” I began, but shut up quick when Rachel turned back to face me.

“Just think about it,” she said, silencing me. She held out her hands one final time. I lifted mine, took hers. She said, “Tomorrow. Come tomorrow. Please, think about it. For me?”

Automatically my pinkie finger found hers. Wrapped itself around it. Squeezed tight. It would be the last time we’d ever do that, Rachel and me. I didn’t know it then, but I had my suspicions. I think she did too.

So I lied when I answered. It may not have been the truth, but it was a kindness. For my friend. For everything we had once shared.