Текст книги "The Star Dwellers"

Автор книги: David Estes

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

A number of people are seated across a table, staring at the camera, seven in total. Three women, four men. I take in their faces, trying to remember if I’ve ever met them during my visits to the Star Realm. Gazing at the first six I draw a blank—they’re just faces with vague features—but the seventh…the seventh looks familiar for some reason. A woman, perhaps mid to late thirties, hazel eyes that look sad but intense, dark, dark hair, jet-black and beautiful, and features that appear soft at a first glance, but harden the more you look at them. There’s something about her that—

My heart stops when I realize. The end of my thought was reminds me of Adele. Vice President Morgan is speaking but I don’t hear her, my eyes locked on the seventh star dweller general. Unwillingly, my eyes close and I picture the woman next to Ben. They look nothing alike, but when I add my last memory of Adele—her green eyes shining with confidence, her soft but strong cheeks so pale and beautiful, her lips pink and parted slightly, all framed by the cascades of obsidian hair rippling around her shoulders—into the gap between them, they are somehow connected. She has both their features in her, like the missing link between two people who were always meant for each other. My eyes flash open.

And then Morgan is speaking directly to me, her eyebrows raised slightly. “Tristan? Would you care to say a few words?”

I don’t know how many times she addressed me while I was daydreaming, but all eyes are on me, and more than a few of them are looking at me strangely. Although I’m flustered, my training kicks in and gets me started. “Yes. Thank you all for coming,” I start, trying to buy some time while I find my words. I force my eyes away from the bottom right corner of the screen, away from the woman who might be Adele’s mom, alive and well, not in some star dweller prison, a general in the freaking star dweller army, but my gaze keeps coming back to her. It can’t be her—it can’t. She’s in prison. Not a general. Not possible.

I pause, my thoughts tumbling over each other like a team of acrobats, flipping and spinning and leaping, none of them coming out of my mouth, which is probably a good thing. But then one thought takes center stage and I hear myself gasp. Ben. Ben is here and this woman who resembles Adele so closely is here—well not here, but connected to us via the video screen.

My eyes dart to the big man sitting next to me, and beneath his well-trimmed goatee I see a slight smile. His eyes aren’t on me, but on the screen, and I don’t have to follow his gaze to know what part of the screen. His gemstone-like green eyes—that remind me so much of Adele—are wide and watering and full of emotion. It is her; the intensity of his eyes all but confirms it. He’s looking at his wife for the first time in months, knows she’s okay.

“Tristan?” Morgan says again, and I have no idea how long they’ve been waiting for me to speak. I clear my throat and desperately try to focus on the task at hand.

“I don’t have time for this,” I hear someone snap through the speakers. One of the boxes on the screen is lit up. Peroni. A white-haired VP from one of the Moon Realm subchapters; 20 or 21 or something, I don’t really remember.

“No,” I say. “Wait. This is important.” Fire is coursing through my veins again—not anger this time, but determination. To do the right thing. To convince these people of the way forward. “I know all of you through my role as heir to the presidency of the Tri-Realms. My father, President Nailin, sent me to all of your subchapters to negotiate contracts that were unfair to your people, contracts that you never should have signed.”

“Like we ever had a choice,” Peroni says.

“I know that. It was wrong, what I did. I always knew that and yet I did nothing, and for that I’m sorry. But it’s time to make amends. It’s time for me to make amends, by helping you rebuild the oppressive government that gives you nothing and takes everything.”

“They provide us with leadership! The Sun Realm is responsible for everything good we have!” This time it’s Ogi speaking, and I have to bite my tongue to stop myself from telling the weasel to shut up!

“No, that’s wrong. I’m the only one here who has seen the inner workings of the government. All they care about—all my father cares about—is sucking the life out of you each and every day, so that they can continue to enjoy their lavish lifestyles. The time has come to take a stand. The time has come to stand together, united with the Star Realm, and take back the Tri-Realms!” I’m on my feet, my fist raised in the air, but I have no recollection of either action. My whole body feels hot, but this time I’m not running for the exit; this time I want to see the reaction.

I should have left.

“Rubbish!”

“We will never fight with the backstabbing star dwellers!”

“I’ll die before I support the Resistance!”

A chorus of other angry rebuttals pounds through the speakers and soon I can’t make out the individual comments. The boxes on the screen are all lit up and filled with a flurry of activity. Some VPs are on their feet, screaming and pointing fingers at the camera, obviously aimed at me. Some are pounding on their desks, their faces red. A handful of the VPs look as mortified as I do; they’re either staring at the camera with wide eyes or looking down at their hands awkwardly. The generals in the star dweller box are whispering to each other, shaking their heads, frowning. Only Adele’s mother is doing something different. She’s ignoring the others, looking at the camera, almost as if she’s looking right at me.

And I swear her lips are curled into a smile.

Chapter Nineteen

Adele

I find my mom in her office, and I’m starting to wonder if she ever leaves it. Her chair must be ultra-comfortable, or surely she’d have a sore butt by now.

I tap lightly on the door, which is open, and her head jerks up from some papers she’s reading.

“Well, hi there, honey.” Her greeting sounds so normal, like I’m just getting home from school and she’s at the wash basin, preparing our meager supper of dried beans and week-old bread. Like she’s not a general planning the next attack on the Moon Realm. Her voice puts me right at ease, and I feel like maybe I can talk to her like a friend again.

“Can we talk?”

“Of course we can. But I thought you’d have crashed by now. It’s been a long few weeks for you.” Her smile reminds me of when I look in the mirror. You’re so much like your mother. My father’s words, not about my looks, but about my fighting style; and yet, still relevant here.

I go to sit down on the other side of the desk, but she says, “Not here,” and stands, steps around the desk. Puts an arm around my shoulder, and I don’t shrink from her touch this time. I didn’t realize how badly my body has been craving my mother’s touch until now.

I melt into her side, wrap my arm around her back, and we walk like mother and daughter through the halls. We don’t speak and I don’t really notice my surroundings as we pass by. I know they’re gray and stone, but any subtle details escape me. I’m just living in the warmth of my mom’s hold, the slight thump of her heart beating, the gentle motion of her hand rubbing my shoulder.

We reach a door, and she momentarily releases me as she unlocks it, pushes in, flicks a switch to turn on the thinnest of lights on the ceiling. Inside is her bedroom, private and plush compared to the packed Spartan bunk rooms. A thick, red comforter hides a largish bed with at least four pillows at the head.

“This is home…for now,” she says with a wink.

I close the door behind us and she goes and sits against the bed’s headboard, her feet sprawled out on the comforter, using two pillows to prop herself up. “Let’s talk,” she says, patting the space next to her.

I so want to just start firing questions at her, stay on my feet, maintain a position of power, but my heart won’t let me. Instead, I obey, sliding next to her, my head resting on her outstretched arm, almost like the old days, when she used to comfort me after one of my nightmares about drowning.

“What do you want to talk about?” she asks innocently.

What did I want to ask her? My mind is blank—I’m lost in the beautiful glow of my mom’s love. I can feel it surrounding me and it’s so real—so different than the side of my mom that Tawni said she overheard, the side of my mom that makes her give me a gun and send me off to be part of the army. The side of my mom with secrets. Right, secrets—the army supplies, I remember. “How is the star dweller army so well-supplied?” I gaze into the fathoms of her eyes, seeking the truth.

“Trevor said you might ask me that.”

“Why are you talking about me with Trevor?” I ask. I should be angry when I ask it, but I’m not. I’m more sad, because she’s keeping secrets from me.

“It wasn’t like that, sweetheart.”

“Then what was it like?”

“He just told me you were asking him questions, questions he didn’t know how to answer, and I told him I’d take care of it.”

That’s consistent with what Tawni told me. “So what’s the story?”

“To be honest, I don’t know. The other generals have blocked me out. I had power when I was a Resistance leader, but down here I’m just the new general, with very little influence. They respect me because I can lead the soldiers and because of my experience, but they won’t let me into their inner circle. I don’t know where the money’s coming from, how they can afford all the weapons, the equipment. Trevor’s trying to find out for me, do some undercover work. He’s taking great risks for me, Adele.”

It’s not the answer I expected at all, so for a moment I’m not sure what to say. I thought my mom was at the center of some big conspiracy, involving bribery and theft and maybe even worse evils. But I can sense she’s telling me the truth—and I believe her. Perhaps she’s not the problem. Perhaps…

“What if Trevor is just pretending to help you? When really he knows the truth—is part of the truth—working with the other generals? Did you think about that possibility? That maybe he’s a spy for them?” My questions are coming fast and I know there’s heat in my words, so I look down when I finish, play with my hands, try to control my emotions.

“I thought that at first,” she says, and I look up at her. Her lips are pursed. “So I did my own digging. I’m pretty sure Trevor’s clean.”

“What if he’s not?”

“Then he’s a damn good liar,” she says, and I’m surprised. I’ve never heard her curse before.

“That fits with my impression of him,” I half-joke.

She laughs. “Sometimes he doesn’t make the best first impression.”

I realize then that Trevor has my mom’s complete and utter trust, and that she’s not going to believe me without proof. I’ll have to get that proof. I change the subject. “What’s going on with the communications with the Moon Realm?” I ask.

Her face falls. “It’s not going well,” she admits. “Those papers I was reading when you came in were the transcripts from the meetings. That’s where I was all day—with the other generals, speaking to the moon dweller Vice Presidents. The majority of them are not being reasonable, are not willing to join the star dweller rebellion. But we have a few advocates, and I sense your father’s influence behind their words.”

“Dad?” I say. “So you heard him?”

“Not exactly. But I saw him—he was there. But trust me, he’s behind the scenes helping to convince them to join the cause. Oh, and your friend is there, too.”

My friend? I stare at her blankly.

“You know, Tristan.”

My heart hammers in my chest. Tristan promised me he would help and he is. He’s not like his father, the President—nothing like him at all. Excitement rushes through me, buzzing all over my skin and swooning in my chest. Memories of the last time I saw him race through my mind. The tenderness in his touch as he pulled me close to him. The way he looked at me, a tear escaping his eye. How his lips yearned for mine and mine for his, and how I had to use all of my strength to pull away from him, thus ensuring that our first kiss would not also be our last. “Tristan,” I murmur.

“Yes,” she says. “He spoke today, tried so hard to convince the moon dweller leaders to join the rebellion, was successful with a few of them. But it wasn’t enough. The majority are still supporting the contracts with the President, maintaining the status quo.”

“We have to go up there, meet with them in person, not hide down here like a bunch of rats.”

“I agree, but the other generals refuse. Not until they have the support of the Moon Realm in writing. They’ve given the moon dwellers three days, or they’ll attack.”

“No! They can’t do that! Dad, Elsey, Tristan, Roc—they’re all up there! Did you tell the generals about the sun dweller soldiers me and Tawni saw?”

“Yes, I did, but they’re skeptical. They think maybe you were seeing things, or dreamed it, or something, perhaps after you contracted the Bat Flu.”

“But it was before we got the Flu!” I object.

“I know, honey, I told them that, too, but it didn’t help. I’m trying, Adele. So very hard. But I’m outnumbered.” It’s Trevor, I think. He’s a spy. The generals know exactly what my mom’s trying to do before she does it, because she shares everything with Trevor.

“If the other generals won’t go, then we have to go ourselves,” I say firmly.

“Yes,” she says softly, as if it’s a decision she’s been trying to delay as long as possible. “We will.”

Finally, I feel like I’ve truly got my mom back. We’re working together—on the same side. No more secrets. I flop my arm across her stomach and lean into her side, curl my legs underneath me.

Warmth and love and fear and exhaustion surround me and I drift away into the darkness of the never never.

* * *

I wake up naturally at five in the morning. I only know that because the dim lights are still on and I can see an old-fashioned clock hanging on the wall. The big hand is a minute past twelve. The little hand is dead on five. My mom is already gone, to do whatever it is she does as a general in the army.

I have a choice to make: to meet Brody or cancel. Something about the whole situation feels dangerous, not because he’s a scary guy or anything—quite the opposite—but because I don’t want to give him the wrong impression, especially not after it felt like he was flirting with me. But it’s just training. No harm in trying to improve my shooting, right?

I take my time getting ready because I don’t have to meet Brody for target practice until six, although it all seems kind of pointless now that I know we’re going it alone. By five-thirty I’m in the mess hall, eating alone because I don’t know anyone.

Just as I walk out the door leading to the training grounds, I see Brody emerge from a door further down the complex. He spots me right away and smiles at me, jogging over to intercept my path to the gun range. “I wasn’t sure you’d show up,” he says.

“I always do what I say I will.”

“Mmm,” Brody muses, looking at me curiously, “I bet you do.” He pushes a hand through his hair to move his bangs away from his eyes. He’s always doing that. “Ready to shoot?”

“Not really,” I admit. “Guns aren’t really my thing.”

“But bows and slingshots and fists are?”

I shrug. “It’s how I was raised. How’d you get so good with guns anyway? They were so rare in the Moon Realm that I wouldn’t think there were any in the Star Realm.” I ask the question nonchalantly, but I’m probing for information. Although I’m sure Brody wouldn’t have more information than my mother, he might at least know when guns started popping up as if they were breeding.

His eyes are steely, as if the blue-green of his eyes have finally agreed to mix and form an iron gray. His dimple is there, but he’s not smiling. Instead, his expression is wistful. “My father taught me to shoot. We never had much money—or any money. But he had this old gun, handed down from generation to generation, a real dinosaur, you know? He’d take my brother and me out back to shoot tin cans using bullets he hand molded from whatever leftover metals he could scrounge up from the mines. By the time I was twelve I could hit those cans dead in the center every time.” For a second there’s a tear in his eyes but he quickly blinks it away, brushing his hair from his face once more. I know there’s more to his story.

“Where’s your family, Brody?”

His words are clipped, as if he practices saying them with as little emotion as possible. “Dad died in a mining accident. My brother got sick and never got better. My mom committed suicide. Any other questions?”

“No…I mean, I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” Brody says, the smile suddenly popping back onto his face, lighting it up. “I’m not used to talking about all this. How ’bout we do some shooting?”

“Sounds good.” I’m hoping he’s just interested in being my friend—nothing more—because I’m starting to like Brody. He just seems so…real.

Brody moves in close, closer than I’d like but not close enough where it’s uncomfortable, guiding a pistol into my hands, showing me how to hold it, how to aim it. “See, you have to hold it slightly lower than the target you’re aiming at, because unlike a bow or a slingshot, a gun has some serious kickback. When you pull that trigger, it’s going to squirm on you. That’s why your first shot went way too high.” I feel the warmth of his hands on my skin, as if they’re burning through me. I have the sudden urge to push them away, but I want to learn so I don’t. “Does all that make sense?” he asks, his eyes close to mine.

“Uh, yeah. I think so. Thanks,” I add. We take the first shot together, a burst of flame, a jerk against my hands, and a shock through my arms. A wisp of smoke trails from the muzzle.

Finally Brody releases me and I feel the tension leave my body. For some reason, it’s a relief.

“Do you see where the bullet hit?” Brody says.

“Wh—what?”

“The bullet? Did you see if we hit the target?” There’s a twinkle in his eye and I know that he already knows.

“No. It went so fast I couldn’t see it.”

“It’s not so much seeing it as feeling it. Trust me, you’ll get the hang of it. Let’s go check it out. Race me!” he whoops, and starts running.

Without thinking, I give chase, accelerating quickly to make up his head start. As we race, it reminds me of Camp Blood and Stone, when Tristan and I raced after we rescued my father. Except this time I’m not racing Tristan, a guy I barely know, I’m racing Brody, another guy I barely know. My life feels strange, like everyone I’m interacting with are just rocks in a swirling underground river, put in my path by chance alone.

With the head start, Brody beats me easily, but he would have beaten me anyway, his long legs gaining ground ahead of me with each stride. At the end we’re both hunched over, our hands on our knees, breathing heavily from the exertion. Which I like, because it means Brody didn’t go easy on me. He didn’t underestimate me. Which means he respects me.

“Dead center,” he says.

“What?” I say, wondering if that is what soldiers say in the army when they win something.

“The bullet you fired—it hit dead center.”

I look up, still panting, and see that he’s right. A hole the width of my thumb is drilled through the bull’s-eye of the target, not even touching the edges of the painted-on red circle. I laugh. “It was your shot, not mine.”

“True,” he says, laughing.

Could Brody be like an older brother to me? “How old are you?” I blurt out, right away wishing I hadn’t asked. It makes me sound like I’m interested in him—which I’m not.

Brody’s laugh reaches his eyes and the single dimple is deeper than I’ve ever seen before. “Does it matter?” Matter for what? I think I know what he means, but I’m not going to say it.

“I was just curious,” I say nonchalantly, looking away. “Forget it. Let’s go shoot some more.”

I start to walk back toward where we left the pistol, but Brody stops me with a hand on my wrist. I feel a crackle of electricity through my skin. “Twenty-two,” he says.

“Oh.” He’s younger than he looks. I was guessing at least twenty-five.

I pull away from his hand and walk quickly back to the guns. The clop of his boots on the rock slab echoes behind me but I walk fast enough that he doesn’t catch up. I need to get out of here; I feel like every second I’m with him he’s getting bolder.

“I’ve got to go,” I say as Brody pulls astride.

“But we’ve only just started the lesson,” he says, looking at me with one eyebrow raised.

“I just forgot something I had to do.” It’s a bad lie, no detail, obvious.

But Brody doesn’t question it. Just says, “Okay, no problem. How about one last shot with the pistol?”

I shrug. Sure, why not? Taking the pistol from him, I use both hands to line up the shot, like he taught me. Finding the target, I compensate for the gun’s kick by lowering my aim ever so slightly. Keep my arms locked, my hands steady, my eye on the target. Pull the trigger. Pop! The gun is like a live animal in my hands, throwing them up and back, but I manage to hang onto it.

“Well done,” Brody says. “That was much better. If my stellar eyesight is right, you nicked the top of the third ring up from the center. I’ve seen practiced shooters do worse.”

“Thanks,” I say. “I’m starting to get the hang of it, I guess.”

“Yeah.” Before I know what’s happening, he leans into me, his breath on my lips, his eyes on fire. I know what he’s going to do. I saw that same look of longing in Tristan’s eyes before I left him, and I know my own eyes mirrored it back at him. But this time I know my eyes are only filled with horror. Brody’s going to kiss me.

I pull away awkwardly. “Well, anyway…thanks for your help. I really appreciate it.”

Brody sighs, pushes his feathery hair off his forehead. He looks stung, like I’ve just slapped him. “Uh, yeah, no problem.” It’s the first time he hasn’t sounded completely sure of himself, and I feel bad about it, because it’s my fault. He’s been nothing but nice to me. He doesn’t know that I’m thinking of him as a brother. “And I’m sorry.”

Not what I expected him to say. What is he apologizing for? I’m the one who brushed him off. “No, Brody, it’s okay. I’m the one who should be sorry. Look, I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Sure.” He sounds defeated and I have the sudden urge to put my arm around him, show him that I do care about his feelings, that I want to be his friend.

Instead, I just turn on my heel and walk away to find Tawni and my mom.