by S. F. Said
– and his spark of hope died.
Because it wasn’t just Aquarius any more. The entire sky was being pulled apart. Cracks and fractures rippled out from the black hole as the horizon broke in two. Space was shattering above their heads.
All around the mountain, Axxa and Humans were beginning to look up at the broken sky, and to see the Nothing on the other side. The sounds of battle faded as, one by one, they saw the cracks in the fabric of spacetime.
‘What . . . is . . . that?’ gasped Lucky’s father in the sudden silence, just below him on the mountainside.
‘We tried to warn you,’ said Bixa. ‘It’s the black hole. The Wolf That Eats the Stars. It’s here.’
How can I stop this? thought Lucky desperately. How do you destroy a black hole? If only I could hear the stars; if only I still had the astrolabe . . .
But that vast view of space: wasn’t it part of him now?
He concentrated, shut his eyes, shut out everything around him. He remembered how it felt to hold the black metal disc in his hands. Remembered that feeling of limitless power thrumming beneath his fingertips –
– and then, in his mind, Lucky went into space. He stopped being conscious of the two armies, the mountain, even the black hole in the sky.
He was conscious only of the stars. And here, at last, he could hear them. But their voices were so faint, so weak, so scared.
Behind them, he could hear those fragments of strange sad songs, still echoing across infinity. They seemed clearer than ever before. Bigger. Stronger than the songs of the stars – and older, too. They were songs that went right back to the beginning of everything . . .
He gasped as he realized what they were.
The Twelve Astraeus.
They were singing across space, and they had been all along. One by one, they’d been calling to each other, warning of the Wolf and their powerlessness before it.
But now they were singing to him. And their song was terrible in its simplicity, its clarity, its meaning.
And in that moment, Lucky knew at last what his power was meant for, and what he had to do.
The shock was so great that he crashed out of space –
– and crashed straight back into his body again.
No! he thought desperately. There must be another way – there must!
But in his mind, the Twelve Astraeus sang on, the same song, again and again – and he knew there could be no avoiding it, after all.
He could not escape the destiny that Gala had foreseen; the fate he hoped he had escaped. All hope was snatched away, and the meaning of her prophecy became finally, fully, horribly clear.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
On the mountainside, the Axxa and the Humans were all staring up at the black hole. It was tearing the sky to pieces, and the Nothing was pouring through.
The sight of it began to suck the life and light from their minds. One by one, they succumbed to the Living Death.
‘What’s happening?’ gasped President Thorntree, horror cracking her painted smile.
‘The stars are falling from the sky,’ said King Theobroma. He looked down. ‘It’s over. Nobody can save us now.’
Lucky shuddered. ‘I – I’m going to try,’ he said, almost in spite of himself. ‘I think there might be a way.’ It was as if it wasn’t him speaking; as if someone braver and wiser had taken over, and he was just watching from the sidelines. ‘But if I save you, will you stop fighting and make peace? Because if you don’t, all this will just happen again . . .’
The President and the King looked at each other with suspicion and hatred in their eyes.
‘But they made it happen,’ said the King.
‘No,’ said the President. ‘It was them. The War, the Living Death: they’re responsible for it all.’
Lucky’s heart sank. Even now, they still couldn’t see what they were doing. ‘Don’t you get it?’ he pleaded. ‘The Living Death isn’t an Axxa plot, or a Human plot. It’s what happens when you destroy Dark Matter connections. You’ve both been doing that, so you’re both responsible. The only thing that can save you from it is connection – so please: stop fighting, hold onto each other, and don’t let go!’
But still they would not reply. They would not even meet each other’s eyes.
Bixa’s needles bristled with defiance. ‘You people are incredible!’ she shouted. ‘Peace is the only thing that can save you! Can’t you get that through your heads?’
They both recoiled from the girl with needles in her hair.
‘Who are you?’ said President Thorntree.
‘I’m the new Startalker of the Present,’ said Bixa. ‘That means I know what you’re all thinking, right now. You’re thinking you can never make peace with them. But you’re wrong. Because there’s no difference between you that matters more than your lives. We’re all the same when we’re looking into a black hole. We’re all us!’
Lucky gazed at her, amazed that in this darkest and most desperate hour, she seemed to have come into her Startalker power so smoothly, and so confidently. He felt so glad that she was there beside him at that moment.
But above their heads, the crack in the sky was spreading. As they watched from behind the radiation storm, they saw planets, suns and moons sucked in, crushed down to Nothing, annihilated – as if they had never existed at all.
It was like a Dark Matter bomb, but as big as a star. Aquarius was gone, and now – as Major Dashwood had predicted, and as Gala had foreseen – everything was going. Everything slipping away. The black hole was growing bigger and bigger, more and more powerful, as world after world fell into it. Soon it would move beyond Aquarius, to the next star system, and the next, until it had consumed the entire galaxy.
Darkness began to descend on Charon. Humans and Axxa alike were plunged into freezing cold. And the air filled with their screams, their cries, their total terror at the end of all worlds.
‘Do what Lucky told you!’ Bixa urged them. ‘Make peace with each other – now!’
And now, at long last, they did it. They dropped their weapons, reached out, and took each other’s hands.
It was such a small gesture. Such a tiny, fragile thing – almost pitiful compared to the vast forces raging above them in the sky – and yet, somehow, it helped. It held off the darkness and despair that assailed their minds.
King Theobroma and President Thorntree, Axxa troopers and Shadow Guards: all across the mountainside, people were taking their enemies’ hands, linking arms, clutching tightly onto one another for sanity and for life. They held on, and slowly, their screams of fear subsided. The waves of despair receded.
But still the black hole was growing bigger, longer, wider. Expanding in every direction at once, pulling in more and more worlds. More and more stars were falling from the sky.
Lucky stared up at it, cold with fear, and prepared to face the end.
Frollix watched him with eyes of blue flame. ‘So . . . what are you gonna do?’ he said. ‘You’re not gonna do what I think, are you? You can’t, Lucky, you can’t—’
‘You’ve got to leave this mountain,’ Lucky told the President and the King, avoiding Frollix’s question, turning away from his friends. He couldn’t look at Frollix, or Bixa; he didn’t think he’d have the strength to go through with it if he did. ‘I’m going to use my power now. Anything near me will be destroyed. You have to get everyone away to safety, right now.’
Without another word, the two leaders led their forces away. The two armies moved down the mountainside, connected: arms linked, hand in hand. They didn’t look like armies any more. They looked more like small children, clutching on to each other, because there was nothing else to hold on to. Axxa and Humans – the People of the Stars and the People of the Ground – they left side by side.
Lucky remained on the mountaintop under the unravelling sky, his friends by his side.
‘You have to go too,’ he forced himself to say, as he let go of Bixa’s hand. It was the hardest thing h
e’d ever done. ‘You can’t stay. No one can survive what’s going to happen here.’
Captain Nox held Mystica’s body in his arms. ‘Without her, I don’t want to survive,’ he replied. He shook his great head in grief. ‘I wish I was dead.’
Lucky looked at the heartbroken old man. ‘No, Captain,’ he said. ‘You had the Living Death, and you came back. You’ve got to live. That’s what she’d want, isn’t it?’
The Captain looked back at Lucky. His eyes were like rain. ‘You mattered to her, you know,’ he said, very quietly. And then his voice cracked, and he turned away. ‘You mattered to us all.’
And with those words, he lifted Mystica’s body, and started to climb down the mountainside.
‘Frollix,’ said Lucky, turning to his friend, ‘you have to take Bazooka. I’ve been carrying her for you, but she was the Professor’s, and he said a phoenix always accompanies the Startalker of the Past – so she should go with you. Even a phoenix can’t come where I’m going.’
He lifted the little bird from his shoulder. She perched on his palm, shivering, as he held her out to the huge Axxa.
Frollix hesitated – and then, finally, reached out and accepted the phoenix. He took her in his hands, and gently stroked her feathers. ‘It’s OK,’ he whispered, soothing her. ‘It’s OK, Bazooka. I’m here now.’
‘Baaa-zookaaaa?’ she chirped, glowing crimson gold.
‘Yes,’ said Frollix, as she hopped up and perched on his shoulder. ‘I – I’m not gonna say goodbye, Lucky. You’re gonna be OK, right?’
Lucky couldn’t meet his eye. ‘Take care,’ he said softly. ‘My brother. My friend.’
He watched them go down the mountainside together: the new Startalker of the Past, with the new phoenix on his shoulder.
It was just him and Bixa now. They looked up at the broken sky.
‘I’m glad you were here at the end,’ he told her. ‘But – don’t let them forget this, OK? Even if you have to smash their heads together, you’ve got to make sure they keep the peace.’
‘Oh, I will,’ said Bixa. ‘I’ll do some head-smashing, don’t worry!’
‘I’m counting on you. You’re Startalker of the Present now.’
Bixa’s face fell. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m not. I – I didn’t really know what they were thinking, back there. It was just a bluff.’ She looked up at the stars, dying before their time. ‘I don’t feel any different, Lucky. I don’t hear any stars singing.’ Her needles were totally black, as lightless as the sky. ‘I don’t have the power, and I never will.’
‘But – that bluff of yours was brilliant!’ He couldn’t leave her like this. There was so little time, and so much to say. He took her hand again, and looked right into her silver eyes. ‘You were the one who persuaded them to make peace. And if you did it without some weirdo power – well, I think that makes you even more brilliant. I think you’re the bravest and most brilliant person I ever met, Bixa Quicksilver.’
She stared back at him. And then, at last, she lost her cool, and slapped him straight across the face.
‘Oww!’ he said, startled. ‘Why d’you do that?!’
‘’Cos this isn’t fair!’ she raged, stamping a hoof on the frozen ground. ‘We just met – I want to be with you – have adventures – see things . . .’ She shook her head. ‘Isn’t there another way? There must be another way – there must—’
‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘I’ve got to go now. Bixa, I love you.’
Her silver eyes filled with tears. And then she grabbed him in her arms and kissed him, hot and sweet and full on the mouth.
And then she let go, and walked away, leaving him alone on top of the mountain.
Alone.
Again.
Once more.
He looked up at the sky. The ruined hollow shell of reality. The Nothing streaming through. The black hole, growing all the time.
There were only moments left. If he did not act now, the stars he loved would be gone forever. Every single world was going to die.
He looked at the heart of the black hole. Directly into the jaws of the Wolf That Eats the Stars.
Nothing matters, whispered the darkness.
Nothing matters any more.
He fought it off with the memory of Bixa’s kiss, her warmth, her taste.
How hard it was to leave that now, at the very moment when he’d found it. They would never touch again. Never talk again.
He felt like he was losing a part of himself. A part? No: he was about to lose everything that made him who he was. This unique configuration of atoms was about to be snuffed out, and burned away.
What a useless, clumsy body, he thought, holding up his hands, staring at his fingers. I’ve always hated my body. But now I’m about to lose it – I don’t want to let go.
Far below, he could see the shattered ruins of the Sunfire; the strewn-out trail of wreckage where they’d crashed. He’d loved that ship. He would’ve given anything to have it back – but now it was gone, and all that remained was this one last chance to save the people he loved, by using every last part of his power.
I don’t want to die. I don’t want to leave my friends. I want to live –
– but I’m the only one who can do this.
He looked up at the sky, at the black hole, at the Nothing –
– and now he felt it rise.
At the centre of his being, a spark of power flared into life.
Impossible energies surged through his body.
His fingertips started to shine.
And then the light poured out of him, scorching from his hands, his head, his heart.
The light flared into flame. Red hot. White hot. Hotter still. And Lucky could smell something like sulphur, filling his senses, overwhelming him with fire as his body burned.
This time, he let it burn. He didn’t try to stop the pain. He let it go all the way, as he never had before.
Far above, he could see the stars as they fell into the darkness. He stretched his arms up, reaching for the stars, sending all his energy into the sky.
A great pillar of flame rose up from him, stronger than the fires in a nuclear furnace, bigger than the blast of a billion atom bombs. Aimed directly at the black hole that was ripping the galaxy to pieces.
And still the power was growing, growing. Glowing brighter all the time.
Lucky’s hands felt raw. Searing pain ripped through his heart. It burned and blazed behind his eyes. Yet still he let the power rise – higher and higher – all focused on that black hole in the sky.
But already, something inside him was beginning to buckle.
His body was shaking, shaking. The surface of his brain was boiling. His head was splitting under the strain, erupting, breaking open as arcs of blinding pain shot across his face, bigger and brighter than any body could contain.
His eyes were on fire. From his nose and mouth and ears, the fire was bleeding out, and it was killing him.
Yet still he didn’t try to stop it. Still he kept it coming, letting it rise and flare and flame – even though it was tearing him to pieces – the pain of his life being burned away, his mortality blazing – how much could there be left? Not much now; surely not much; he could hardly think straight any more; but still he kept burning, and blazing, and reaching for the stars –
– but the pressure was too great. His body was beginning to melt, to come apart under the strain.
He could feel himself disintegrating. This frail body of flesh and blood was falling apart, his heart failing, heart breaking . . .
He felt his atoms fly apart at a million miles an hour . . .
His mortal life was gone. It was all spent, and now there was nothing left.
It was not enough; it could never be enough.
And as the flames consumed him, he understood that it was over.
The Nothing was stronger than he was. It always had been.
For everything
everywhere
e v e
r y
o n e
e n d s
Lucky burned and burned and burned, down to the last ember.
The smallest spark of light: that was all that was left of him.
His mortal body was gone, all burned away.
But now it was gone – something new was growing around him.
A new body, brighter than fire, lighter than air.
The body of a star.
And Lucky came into his power at last.
He rose.
He flew.
Like a phoenix, he soared up into the sky, into space, into the stars and constellations.
He rose higher and higher in his new, weightless, astral body – all the way to the Wolf That Eats the Stars.
As he reached it, the Nothing whispered in his heart once more.
What matters? it hissed, as it surrounded him in darkness.
Nothing matters any more.
But Lucky’s heart of starlight burned too bright to feel despair.
‘You want to know what matters?’ he roared at the Nothing. ‘I’ll tell you what matters! ALL OF THIS!! EVERYTHING MATTERS, AND IT ALWAYS WILL!!!’
He couldn’t destroy it; he knew that now.
But there was another way. Not destruction, but creation.
As he entered the heart of the black hole, as he became one with it – he let loose the power of creation –
– and with it, he filled the void.
He filled it with his own being: with everything that he knew. With all the feelings that he’d felt, all the places that he’d been, all the people that he’d met, all the stories that he’d seen. With everything that made him what he was – Lucky filled the void.
And there in the darkness that was the end of all things, he shone, and shone, and went on shining.
With his life and light and power, he healed the rift in space. He stopped the Nothing, and sealed it up behind the sky.
Looking down, he could see everything spread out below him. All of it was beautiful, and all of it alive.
