Phoebe North - Starbreak

In the recesses of our mind, inside the wild jungles of our shared sleep, his body healed mine. It bolstered me, made me whole. It was less a distraction and more a salve—and I knew I’d need my strength in the coming days.

In the darkness of the night, I woke in sweaty sheets, curling my body up like a crescent moon.  Akku, or maybe Aire. I wasn’t sure which.

I woke early the next morning, rising swiftly in the impenetrable dark. Pepper mewled from his spot on the end of the bed. I buried my face in his dust-soft fur, snuggling him for just a moment before I made my way down the hall and toward the head. After days unwashed on Zehava, I don’t think I’d ever gladly forgo a shower again. Not even this one, with its rattling pipes and thin, brown stream of water. Funny how I’d never noticed before the way the ship’s water tasted. Dingy. Not quite clean. But I’d never known any better, and now I did. I soaped up my body quickly, rinsed quickly too. The lights flickered overhead, but I ignored it.

What will you do today? Vadix asked as I pulled on my clothes. It felt odd to wear my tired old linen pants and holey sweater again, but I thought it best to avoid the strange Xollu garb if I was going to be out today—among my people.

I’m going to go speak to Van Hofstadter. Spread the word about the meeting tonight.

But what about Silvan?

I remembered Silvan. Rumple-haired. Proud. I bit the inside of my cheek and tried to ignore how my stomach flip-flopped at his memory. I couldn’t trust him, not entirely—but there was nothing I could do about that, either.

Rebbe Davison said it can wait. We need to gather the Asherati. We need to plan.

All right, Vadix said, but I could hear the doubt that seeped from his mind to mine. I groped through the darkness for my boots, and swiftly changed the subject.

Do you have a plan today?

Yes, yes, he said hastily. I shall continue to petition the senators to let me speak before them on your behalf. But they are wary of your people and the strain you all would place on our cities. And I have combed the records dating back six centuries. It is quite unheard of that they might change their minds after making such a decree.

Unheard of. I stomped my feet down into my boots, one at a time, then tugged the laces tight.

They need to lift the banishment. Without that we have no chance.

I am aware, Vadix said, his voice wry in my head. I am trying. I fear that I am unable to advocate forcefully enough for your people. I will defend you until my body returns to soil, but—

Don’t you want me to be safe? You said it yourself!

Of course I do! But . . . His thoughts petered out. I hissed out a slow breath of air, letting my head hang down. There was no use getting angry—not at him. He was only trying to help. Besides, I needed to be even-headed on that chilly morning. Strong.

Thank you, I said, sending a wave of warmth across the kilometers of space. For all you’ve done so far. I pulled my left bootlaces into a bow and streamed down the stairs. I wasn’t sure if anyone on this ship went to work anymore, but if they did, I intended to catch Van Hofstadter before he left for the library. There was no time to linger. I put on my coat.

But as I drew the front flap across my body and slipped the buttons into place, I heard footsteps on the stairwell.

“Terra?” A sleep-drowsed voice called out. I turned. My brother stood on the steps, wearing my father’s bathrobe, looking down at me.

I wasn’t sure what to say. I lifted my chin, staring back. “Yeah?”

“It’s not even six yet. Where are you going ?”

My hand rested on the doorknob. It was true; on any other day I would have slept in—finding solace in dreams well into the late morning. But how could I ever explain that to my brother? He came down another step, his wide feet bare against the metal.

“Out,” was all I said.

“Well,” he replied, giving his lips a sleepy smack, “don’t be gone too long. Hannah and I are going to the ship’s bow today to join her parents. We’d like you to come with us.”

“You want to return to Earth?”

Was it just the light, or did Ronen go a shade paler at the suggestion?

“No,” he said. “But I don’t think the rebels have a better plan.”

My coat still half buttoned, I marched back across the galley. I stood at the foot of the stairs, looking up at my brother. He was unshaven, a thick beard coming in over his chin. His eyes had sleepy circles beneath them—too many nights up late, tending to my young niece alone. When I’d moved in, it was to help him shoulder the burden of parenthood. To become the sort of family we’d never been for each other. But I’d run off, failing him in that.

“Wait, Ronen,” I said, my voice a whisper. It wasn’t until I said it that I knew the truth: I wanted my brother with me. There had been times when I’d resented him, and hated Hannah. Times when I hated both of them for leaving our home gutted and hollow in the wake of Momma’s death. But he was here now, and so was I. Maybe given enough time we could learn to be a proper family. I wanted a chance to try. “I’m working on something. A plan. Not returning to Earth. Something better.”

My brother watched me doubtfully. “Hannah told me you fell in love with a boy there. An alien.”

I put my hand on the newel post, touching the frigid metal. “He’s not an alien. I am. He was there first.”

Ronen watched with disbelief. I winced, turning my gaze away.

“Anyway,” I said, speaking to the dark corners of his galley, “this isn’t about him. It’s about us. Our future. Our people. It’s about tikkun olam .”

“Healing the world,” my brother said bleakly, his voice an echo of our father’s.

“Right. Our whole purpose here was to settle that planet. That’s how we were supposed to save humanity. It’s our duty , Ro. More than our jobs and our loyalty to the Council. More than being good husbands or wives or even parents. We’re supposed to ensure that the human race lives on, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t think running back to a dead planet will do it.”

A wisp of a smile tugged at my brother’s mouth, but he fought it. So I pushed just a little harder.

“C’mon. If we give up, what kind of legacy would that be? For Momma—for Abba, too? He worked his whole life for that. Do you really want it all to have been in vain?”

He held up both palms in front of him like a shield—and let out a string of tired, loose chuckles. “Okay, Terra. Fine! Fine. We’ll wait. Only . . .”

“Only what?”

“Only what are we waiting for ?”

That was the question—the one worth a million gelt. I let out a sigh.

“I’m not sure yet. But I’ll let you know as soon as I am.”

I walked briskly through the district streets that morning, under ceiling panels that flickered so badly that they were dark as often as they were light. The moments of blackness were terrifying—impenetrable, thanks to the streetlights that had all been knocked out by rocks and sticks and fists. I’d never realized before how tenuous the cycles of our lives were here on the Asherah , how artificial and easily disrupted. But now that I’d been on the surface of Zehava, seen Xarki lift through the firmament and then sink down to reveal constellations and moons, it had become abundantly clear to me that solar lights were not the same thing as the sun, that glass was not interchangeable with sky.