Phoenix

by S. F. Said

  ‘I am . . . fine.’ She smiled. ‘I would love to come with you, for the man you need to see is my old comrade, the Startalker of the Past, and I have not seen him for many years. But . . . perhaps the Captain is right.’ She turned to Frollix and Bixa. ‘You two must do it. Take Lucky to see the Professor. And invite my comrade back to the ship, while you’re there. I suspect he may wish to travel with us for a while.’

  Nox stared at Frollix and Bixa. He seemed full of doubts. ‘Can you two take this responsibility seriously?’ he asked them. ‘For once in your lives, can you stay out of trouble? Can you keep the boy away from danger?’

  ‘Oh, from what I saw of those pirates, he can look after himself!’ Frollix grinned. ‘But sure – I’ll be your bodyguard, Lucky.’ He flexed his rippling muscles, and proudly pulled on his coat of liquid metal. ‘Don’t worry, kid: you’ll be safe with me!’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ said Bixa, needles bristling. ‘We all know who’s going to look after the pair of you.’

  ‘This is no joke,’ said the Captain, his great horns glinting. ‘If those pirates showed us anything, it’s that a Human travelling with Axxa is bound to attract attention. The Shadow Guards will be out in force after the bombing of Aries One—’

  ‘Shadow Guards?’ gulped Lucky.

  ‘Naturally. And what are we going to do if they find him and rip his brainscan?’

  ‘We’ll make him one of us, of course,’ sighed Mystica. ‘We’ll give him horns. We’ll give him hooves. We’ll make his eyes burn.’

  ‘You’ll do . . . what?’ said Lucky.

  He looked around at the others. But it was as if Mystica had dropped a stone into the cabin. All conversation stopped dead at her words. Bixa and Frollix both turned away, their faces ashen.

  At last, Nox stood up, his face like thunder. ‘Do whatever you must,’ he said darkly. ‘Frollix, come with me to the cockpit. Our Startalker has spoken. Let’s get this ship to Leo Five.’

  Chapter Fourteen

  Beneath the silver arches of the Sunfire’s main cabin, Mystica rummaged in a storage compartment. She pulled out some fabric, then hobbled up behind Lucky and tugged at his hair, hard.

  ‘Hey!’ he yelped. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Please, calm yourself,’ she said. ‘Have we not begun to trust one another, you and I? Now hold still. This won’t hurt a bit.’

  She began to braid his hair, plait over plait, lock over lock.

  ‘I can’t believe you’re doing this,’ said Bixa, in a low voice.

  ‘Why not?’ murmured the old lady as she worked. ‘His hair is long enough. He can borrow your boots; you’re about the same size, and you’ve got another pair, haven’t you? And I still have Jonathan’s old lenses, you know. He can use them.’

  Their talk made Lucky nervous. What exactly was Mystica doing to him? And who was this Jonathan she’d mentioned?

  It was so hard to hold still as the old lady braided his hair, working it up into two great strands. It didn’t hurt, but it felt tight and itchy across his scalp. It felt even more uncomfortable when she started to wrap the braids above his head in velvet fabric, twining silver thread around them. Velvet and thread – just like he’d seen on the Captain’s horns, and Frollix’s . . .

  ‘You’re making a disguise for me, aren’t you?’ he said. ‘You’re making my hair look like horns!’

  ‘No,’ she replied, twisting the threads up tight. ‘I am making your hair into horns.’

  ‘Huh?’ He blinked. ‘You don’t mean . . . that’s what Axxa horns are really made of? Hair?’

  ‘Just hair,’ said Mystica. She snipped the threads, and tied them off. ‘It’s the traditional style for men; it’s a great dishonour to be seen without your horns. Women wear their hair differently. Some have it up, some have it down. And then there’s Bixa, only Bixa, who has those ugly needles—’

  ‘I need them,’ protested Bixa. ‘I couldn’t defend us without them.’

  Lucky’s mind was reeling. ‘But why would anyone shape their hair into horns?’ he asked, struggling to understand. ‘Don’t you know it looks like the devil?!’

  ‘The horns point up at the stars,’ said Mystica simply. ‘They remind us where we all came from – and where we all return.’

  ‘And we’re not gonna change it just ’cos some Groundlings don’t like it,’ added Bixa.

  ‘Oh.’ He looked across at her. ‘So where are these boots I’m supposed to borrow from you?’ He couldn’t imagine boots that would fit over her hooves.

  ‘These boots,’ muttered Bixa. She reached down, and hoisted up her trousers. She touched the side of her leg, and then slowly, carefully, pulled at one of her hooves. She pulled and pulled and pulled, until the hoof slid off her leg, revealing a foot –

  – a bare foot, with five long, slender toes –

  ‘You’ve got feet?’ gasped Lucky.

  ‘Mm-hmm,’ said Bixa as she pulled the other hoof off, and put it down by the first.

  He stared at it, stunned. There was a metallic sole along the bottom: the metal he’d glimpsed when they were doing Astral Martial Arts. Above the sole was an area shaped like a hoof, big enough for a foot to fit inside. It led up to a perfectly moulded ankle, calf, knee – but then there was an opening above the knee, where the whole thing ended.

  Boots. They were massive, skin-tight, thigh-high boots. Not hooves at all.

  ‘But I thought—’

  ‘You thought we all had hooves, didn’t you?’ scoffed Bixa. ‘You Groundlings: you’ll believe anything! How could we have hands up top, but hooves below? It doesn’t even make sense!’

  Lucky scratched his head, at the base of his new horns. His mental picture of the Axxa was changing so fast, he felt dizzy. ‘Why don’t more people – more Humans – know about this?’

  ‘Perhaps it suits them not to know.’ Mystica shrugged. ‘People have a way of seeing what they expect to see. Not what is actually there.’

  ‘OK . . .’ he said, trying to think his way into the situation. ‘So let me guess. Your fiery eyes are just contact lenses, right?’

  ‘No,’ said Bixa. ‘Our eyes are real. They’re the one big evolutionary difference between us. Ours are adapted for space travel, so they’re sensitive to a wider spectrum of light.’

  ‘Oh? So – um – when Mystica said she was going to make my eyes burn—’

  Bixa shook her head, and turned away.

  ‘Never you mind,’ said Mystica quietly. She rummaged in the compartment again, and pulled out a tarnished silver box. ‘Of course, we can’t change anything inside you, Lucky,’ she said, opening the box and fishing out a pair of purple contact lenses, ‘but these will make you look like one of us on the surface – and they’ll expand your vision a little, too. Don’t worry, dear: you’re not the first Human who needed to pass as Axxa.’

  Lucky tried not to blink as she placed the soft lenses onto the surface of his eyes.

  ‘There,’ said Mystica. ‘You won’t even notice them, now they’re in. Now put on Bixa’s boots.’

  He glanced at the hooves, and then at Bixa. She wouldn’t meet his gaze.

  ‘Go on,’ said Mystica. ‘Don’t be shy.’

  Very reluctantly, he pulled them on, one at a time. It felt so strange. They were enormous and clumpy; he was bound to trip over his own feet in them. ‘Are you sure about this?’ he said. ‘They’re a little . . . big . . .’

  ‘Oh yeah?’ snapped Bixa. ‘Stand up, and see what happens!’

  He did – and to his amazement, the hooves fitted around his feet perfectly. They seemed to adjust to his shape, his posture, his movements – almost as if they were intelligent.

  He took a step forward, and it was like his feet suddenly had power steering. They were so well-cushioned, they made him feel ten feet tall.

  He grinned. In boots like these, he thought, I could even climb a mountain! ‘They’re so comfortable,’ he marvelled, bouncing up and down.

  ‘Course they are,’ said Bixa. ‘
Axxa technology. They adapt to their owner and their environment, to give you the best footing. Now you’ve got a pair of your own, you might even stop falling over every time you walk down a corridor.’ She inspected him critically, and sighed. ‘Look, if we’re really gonna do this, then you need one more thing.’

  She tapped the side of a column. It opened to reveal a hidden rack of gear, from which she pulled a silver coat. Long, shiny, shimmery, it was like wings of liquid metal. Just like the ones they wore.

  ‘Seriously?’ said Lucky. ‘For me?’

  ‘Your very own space traveller’s coat,’ she said. ‘Like the boots, it adapts to its environment. Waterproof, windproof – and totally fireproof, of course.’

  Lucky ran his fingers across the sleeve. It felt cool and smooth, like the surface of his astrolabe. He pulled it on, and felt it billow out behind him. ‘It’s amazing,’ he said.

  Bixa pulled on her own coat and swirled it proudly around herself. ‘Yeah, and we were wearing these when you Groundlings were running round naked in the trees . . .’ She snorted. ‘Though some of you still do, from time to time!’

  Lucky was too thrilled with the coat to rise to the bait. It made him feel different: no longer the boy who’d grown up on a little moon, knowing nothing of the galaxy. He felt like a space traveller now. Almost like part of a starship crew.

  ‘Well, boy?’ asked Mystica. ‘What do you say?’

  ‘Thank you! Your clothes are . . . wonderful.’

  The old lady beamed with pride. She touched the column again, turning its surface into a silver mirror. ‘Have a look and see how wonderful,’ she said.

  Lucky stared into the mirror – and saw a reflection so disturbing, it stopped him dead in his tracks.

  He still looked like himself, with all the same features, but it was as if he’d been born Axxa instead of Human. He had horns that pointed up at the sky, huge black cloven hooves, and violet eyes of flame.

  It was the very image of Aliens that he’d grown up hating and fearing. The enemy, staring back at him with his own face.

  ‘Attention, everyone,’ came Captain Nox’s voice on the comm. ‘We are now approaching Leo Five. Strap up tight for landing.’

  Lucky looked away from the mirror, to the vidscreens, where Bixa was trying to get a clear image of the view outside – and found himself staring at something even more disturbing.

  Through crackling static, a solar system was coming into view. At its centre was a giant golden star, with several planets orbiting around it. The largest was the fifth world out: Leo Five. It was golden too, its continents all dotted with points of light, like miniature constellations. It seemed to be a world of plenty, shining under its sun.

  But further away, in the far distance, green fire filled the blackness of space. Completely filled it. Lucky could see nothing beyond it whatsoever. It was as if space itself ended in a wall of fire.

  At first he thought it must be interference on the vidscreens, like the static. But it seemed almost solid: a barrier beyond which he couldn’t imagine passing.

  Maybe it’s these contact lenses, he thought, making space look weird. He squinted at the vidscreens from another angle, but still the green fire was there, flashing with electric threat. ‘What is that?’ he asked.

  Mystica turned to look, and adjusted her headscarf anxiously. ‘Ah. Yes. You can see it now: your government’s proudest achievement. The Spacewall.’

  Lucky gaped at it. He’d never been this near to the Spacewall; never imagined how uncanny it would really look. ‘How am I ever going to get through that?’ he said, under his breath.

  ‘Don’t you fret,’ said Mystica. She made a final adjustment to his horns, then stepped back to inspect him again. A smile as warm as sunrise spread across her face. ‘You’re one of us now. We will take care of you.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  Lucky, Bixa and Frollix rode out on the Sunfire’s ship-to-shore cycle: a gleaming chrome vehicle designed for short journeys across land, air and space. Lucky sat at the back, clutching his father’s astrolabe. Bixa sat in the middle. At the front, Frollix gripped the high handlebars, revving the engine, proudly driving them onto the surface of the world.

  They came in to Leo Five out of the midday sun. Around them, starships rose and fell in orderly lines, their wings gleaming in the golden light. On the comm, they could hear subspace stations full of chatter; the crackle and buzz of communications; the non-stop whirl of activity in the world below.

  It was a relief to get going. After everything Lucky had been through, it felt good to breathe fresh air again; to feel wind on his skin, and sunlight on his face. He drank in the sights and sounds eagerly, relishing his first new world.

  And Leo Five looked dazzling. The streets were drenched in rich golden light, and lined with tall buildings all lit up from within. Between them, the skyline was spiked by countless cranes, building even bigger structures. Words and pictures scrolled across their walls. Advertisements flashed by on enormous vidscreens, faster than Lucky could read. Cycles and aircars whooshed past them as they drove, an electric blur of motion, their lights like one continuous stream of flame.

  This was the height of Human wealth, and it made the moon he’d grown up on look like a toy town. It was astonishing to see all that energy burning in those buildings, powering this civilization.

  ‘Welcome to Leo!’ whooped Frollix. ‘I love this place!’

  But as they entered the city centre, Lucky started to see signs that beneath the dazzle of lights and the ceaseless buzz, Leo Five was more troubled than it first appeared.

  He noticed a group of down-and-out Humans on a street corner. Some were huddled around a fire. Others were slumped on the pavement. But their eyes were totally empty, like that Axxa pirate he’d seen.

  ‘What’s wrong with those people?’ he asked, as a cloud crossed the face of the sun.

  Frollix peered at them. ‘Looks like they’ve got the Living Death,’ he said. ‘It’s a new thing that’s spreading ’cross the galaxy. See their eyes? That million-mile stare? That’s the first symptom. They stare and stare, but no one knows what they’re looking at. They stop caring about anything; it’s like all the life gets sucked out of them.’

  ‘What causes it?’ asked Lucky, with a shiver.

  ‘It’s a Human plot, of course,’ said Frollix. ‘Everyone knows that!’

  ‘But then – why would Humans have it too?’

  ‘Truth is, no one knows much about the Living Death,’ said Bixa. ‘No one really knows where it came from, or how to cure it. But it didn’t exist before the War, so it must be your government’s doing. What else could it be?’

  They drove on, more quiet now. But on the next corner, a man in a crumpled suit was shouting into a megaphone. ‘The End Times are here!’ he proclaimed, through his crackly loudspeaker. ‘The End of All Worlds! Repent and be saved – the Devil himself walks among us!’

  The man looked up, and saw Lucky. His eyes widened, and he was about to say something more, but before he could, Frollix gunned the cycle and sped away.

  ‘Who was he?’ asked Lucky. He felt so self-conscious about his disguise. He scratched the base of his horns. It itched, having his hair braided like this. The air was beginning to feel tight and humid, as if a tropical rainstorm might be on the way.

  ‘Don’t worry, kid,’ said Frollix. ‘They’re just crazies. You get ’em on every planet. The End of All Worlds! Like that could ever happen!’

  They sped on in silence, past grand mansions half hidden behind high gates. They passed opulent shops, guarded by uniformed doormen. They drove down streets lined with restaurants, tables spilling onto the road, crowded with people eating, drinking, talking, laughing.

  Lucky couldn’t understand it. How could they be like that when there was a war in space? When the Spacewall loomed over them all in the sky? And when there were people in the very same city suffering from the Living Death?

  ‘I’m not sure I like this place,’ he s
aid, turning his collar up as a rumble of thunder shook the sky.

  ‘It was different before all the troubles,’ said Frollix. ‘There used to be a good spirit in this world. You’d even see Axxa and Humans together here.’

  He slowed the cycle as he spoke. At the top of the road ahead, the way forward was blocked by a big crowd of people. They were marching in step with each other, chanting as they marched. Lucky’s senses filled with the crunch of their shoes, and the rhythmic sound of their chants.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he asked nervously, over the noise. He kept his head down, but Frollix and Bixa were staring at the crowd, trying to figure out what it was.

  ‘Oh – look!’ said Bixa, a smile spreading across her face. ‘It’s a protest march.’

  And now Lucky saw that the people were all carrying flashing banners, with slogans like STOP THE WAR and END THE KILLING and BRING DOWN THE WALL. One of them even said FROM THE STARS WE ALL CAME . . . The crowd was mainly Humans, but he was amazed to see some Axxa among them, their horns glittering in the storm light.

  ‘See?’ said Frollix. ‘There’s still some of that old spirit left! Let’s take a closer look!’

  ‘No, Frollix,’ warned Bixa. ‘Let’s find a quiet back street where there’s no people. It’ll be safer.’

  ‘Safer?’ scoffed Frollix, muscles rippling. ‘C’mon, Bixa – live a little!’

  ‘I’m just saying – they could be at that march—’

  ‘I ain’t scared!’ crowed Frollix, driving right up to the edge of the crowd. ‘I ain’t scared of anything!’

  More and more people were marching past on all sides, filling the street. Frollix cruised among them as the first raindrops began to fall. There was no way back now. They were becoming part of the crowd, swept up in its flow.

  ‘You ever hear about these marches, Lucky?’ asked Frollix, as he steered the cycle deeper into the throng. ‘They ever mention them on the news, or in your school?’