Sing Down the Stars

by Nerine Dorman

  The guards made her sit in a chair next to a potted plant with glossy leaves. The strip lighting here made everything look artificial.

  Three closed doors, and nothing else. Not even a screen to scroll through the media feeds. If there was a Net signal, Nuri had no way of telling. She’d left her AR glasses back at the Den, so there wasn’t even any AR for her to log in to. Not that she liked AR much – it always left her slightly queasy. If she had an implant it might be another story, but so far Vadith hadn’t thought it necessary for her.

  Nuri should ask what was going on, but she had a feeling they’d just tell her to keep her mouth shut, which was embarrassing. At any rate, it was better to watch and wait, and see what sort of opportunity might come up. Her instincts warned her that while she might’ve broken in to the facility easily, getting out might not be as effortless. Especially since they were keeping a close watch on her.

  A door opened about five minutes later, and the guard nudged her to her feet.

  Alda stood at the threshold, smiling. “Come on in, child.”

  I’m not your child, Nuri wanted to say. But now was not the time to be contrary.

  The guards did not follow her in, into what was clearly Alda’s office. For a moment, all Nuri could do was stare at the room with its pale-cream finish and an entire wall that currently showed a semi-desert landscape scene where rock formations contorted into strange arches against a painfully blue sky. The air here was warm and smelt faintly of resin.

  Nuri would’ve gone straight to one of the comfortable armchairs in front of the big wooden desk, except that she saw who was seated in the chair to her right. It felt as if all the blood rushed right out of her head and into her toes.

  “Fadhil Tien,” she whispered. Of all people, he was the last she’d expected. He was most likely here to find out why she’d broken into his house.

  The man was more imposing in real life than in his pictures, and as he rose to his feet, flashing her a broad, white smile, she had to fight the impulse to turn and run for the door. A futile effort, in any case. She couldn’t let on that she was terrified, though she was sure it showed.

  Fadhil’s laughter was rich and deep. Belly laughter.

  “Come now, Nuri, I’m not going to eat you.” Fadhil grinned as if he was in on a secret joke.

  “Come take a seat. We have much to discuss,” Alda said.

  “What’s he doing here?” Nuri squeaked. She still hadn’t moved.

  “I’m to be your patron, if you’ll have me.” Fadhil held out a hand for Nuri to take, and all she could do for a few heartbeats was stare dumbly at his fingers. His smile reached his eyes, and when she dared to snake out a bit more of her psi-awareness, she didn’t pick up any immediate animosity.

  “Y-y-you’re not mad at me?” she asked. How had he even found her here?

  “Not you.” There – a small frown, gone in an instant. “Perhaps with Vadith, but then we’ve had plenty of water under the bridge over the years. Let’s just say that he and I are former business partners. I can’t be mad at you for following orders, can I?”

  Nuri sucked in a breath, then tentatively reached out and accepted Fadhil’s hand. His grip was firm and then he indicated for her to go first to sit down. As if she was some la-di-dah lady.

  Alda settled herself in an enormous wingback chair that was more like a throne – all honey-coloured leather. “What would you like to drink, Nuri? I’ve got the server bringing some coffee. Would you like coffee? It’s not synth.”

  “Real coffee?” Ancestors, that stuff was worth more than most folks made in a year.

  “Only the best.” Alda smiled.

  They were trying to buy her, weren’t they? Nuri dared to cut a glance in Fadhil’s direction, but he was sitting with his left leg crossed over the right, big hands clasped loosely in his lap. Not quite watching her study him. She turned back to Alda.

  “Yes, please.”

  Alda’s gaze grew distant for a moment while she communicated via her net connection, and then she focused on Nuri again.

  “I know that you must be deeply afraid and confused, but I would like to reassure you that you will not be harmed. Indeed, we’d like to offer you an opportunity available only to a select few.”

  Nuri licked lips that had gone dry. “I thought you were going to have me mind-wiped?”

  Alda spread her hands. “Consider this the alternative. Your arrival here was unprecedented and entirely unexpected, and it just so happens that Citizen Tien here” – she opened the fingers of her hand closest to Fadhil – “has graciously stepped into the breach.”

  “He’s a – ” Nuri stopped herself from saying “gang boss”.

  “An astute businessman, who knows an opportunity when he sees it,” Fadhil finished for her. His damned smile was so charming.

  Nuri hadn’t even mentioned Fadhil during the earlier interrogation, and there was no need to bring Vadith’s long-standing rivalry with Fadhil further into the picture. Not unless Alda or Fadhil brought it up, which she suspected they wouldn’t. Not here. Not now. She had a feeling it wasn’t relevant and that these people knew full well what Fadhil was all about.

  “Thank you, Citizen Tien.”

  Just then a server droid came in – a sleek model that moved on anti-grav so that it didn’t make a noise. The brushed-steel dome irised back to reveal the promised coffee, as well as a tiered stand loaded with pastries, both sweet and savoury.

  Nuri had only ever seen such perfect treats on the public screens. The few times she’d tasted anything even resembling the flaking crusts with their glistening fruit-preserve hearts, they’d been days-old, cast-off fragments that had found their way into the barrens. They’d still been delicious.

  “Have as many as you like,” Alda said.

  Nuri moved to help herself but hesitated halfway, and despite her growling tummy, thrust her hands under her armpits. “What’s the catch?” she asked through narrowed eyes.

  Fadhil’s laughter brought her up short. “There’s no catch, child.”

  “There’s always a catch,” Nuri hissed.

  “Child, child,” Alda said. “I know your background, and I can assure you that this is nothing like where you came from.”

  “But you want something from me,” Nuri said.

  “I do admit that yes, you have something special, but it is to all our benefit.”

  “What’s he doing here?” Nuri jerked her head in Fadhil’s direction.

  Fadhil remained amused. “If all goes according to plan, I will be your patron.”

  Still going on about the patron stuff. Whatever that meant.

  “Why?”

  “Because you’ll need one if you’re to stand among the Chosen. You want your Citizen implant, don’t you?”

  “A –” Nuri’s mind was awhirl.

  A chance to be a Citizen. To be logged on to the database. Basic medical care, a home. Education. All things she’d assumed would forever be beyond her reach.

  “Why?” she whispered.

  Alda spoke. “We have many Chosen here at the facility, all waiting to bond with the star-jumper nymph when it emerges. You, Nuri, are the only one it has called. The only one who’s found her way here of her own volition. We have to honour that, but we have to be fair, and follow the correct protocol. Those who’ve been put forward by their patrons for the emergence will still stand on the day. We must offer the new star-jumper as many suitable potential avatars to choose from as possible. And each Chosen has a patron, a consortium or a family to whom they owe fealty, and who will represent their interests. You need a patron who will provide the financial backing for the duration of your stay … and your training.”

  Nuri’s world faded while she processed this new information. Chosen? That she was more than space trash? With Fadhil as her patron …? Little facts clicked into place.

  She turned to him. “I’m your opportunity? You’re gambling on me? On the off-chance that I’ll be one of these … avatars?”


  “I think it’s more than just a gamble,” he rumbled. “And I think we all know it.”

  “How did you know about me here?”

  “Did you think you’d make it all the way back to Vadith’s without being watched? I was most fascinated to see where you went afterwards.”

  Nuri firmed her lips. A drone probably. Following at a discreet distance. She’d suspected their escape from his home had been too easy, considering the level of security they’d breached.

  “Whatever is in your past, is in your past,” Alda said. “I would suggest you grasp this opportunity to transcend your origin and, dare I say” – she gave a polite cough of laughter – “reach for the stars.”

  Nuri’s heart felt as if it was going to hammer its way out of her chest, and she swallowed hard. “And if I succeed?”

  “Then you will be a Citizen, and an avatar. A privilege for a rare few. There are perhaps a dozen avatars in existence that we know of, and a mere handful of human birth.”

  “And if I fail?”

  Fadhil shifted in his seat. “Then I will formally adopt you, and you will retain your Citizenship.”

  5

  “I agree to that,” had tumbled out of Nuri’s mouth before she could properly think about the potential fallout from her decision. Citizenship either way – no more Vadith sending her out on dangerous quests. She’d be a Citizen. Free.

  Only later, while Fadhil and Alda were discussing the details of the contract, to which she only listened with half an ear, did Nuri fully begin to realise the depth of her situation.

  Fadhil might be all smiles and niceties, but she’d played right into his hand. If she didn’t become an avatar, why would he bother to formally adopt her?

  Vadith had taken an object of value from the man, and now Fadhil had struck back. And she’d handed herself over on a platter. She may as well have tied a bow around her neck and signed a greeting card while she was at it.

  What about loyalty to her pack? The very loyalty that had kept her alive since Vadith had picked her up out of a literal garbage heap? And he’d seen to her growing up, that she’d had enough to eat and clothes to wear. Even if he had treated her as a prized pet capable of performing fantastic tricks.

  Nuri’s simmering resentment surprised her, especially now she could so easily turn her back on her old life. Her loyalty to Vadith might earn her praise at first, but she’d still be a runner, risking her life and what freedom she had on his dangerous missions. There were no old runners in the pack, and now that she was nearly thirteen, Nuri was already heading towards whatever constituted an early “retirement”. The more she pushed herself, the more she embarked on hair-raising missions, the higher the chance she wouldn’t return one day.

  They all knew this. She ran out of fingers when she counted pack members who’d either been caught and shipped off, or had fallen and splattered themselves. Theirs was not an easy life, even if it was the only life she knew.

  Also, Fadhil might be taking care of her to spite Vadith, and without a doubt he must have ulterior motives in promising her a place in his household, as if she were his own daughter no less. Still, that was a better bet than the barrens. Even if her defection made her a spineless traitor who would be shunned or hunted should she ever return to her previous haunts. The pastries she’d eaten, though at first sweet and delicious, now became stones in her belly.

  Yet Nuri couldn’t help but remember the girl in the photo screens in Fadhil’s study, and wonder.

  The meeting lasted another hour or so, and Nuri was told most of what she’d go through – literacy, diplomacy, etiquette, basic combat skills. All foreign concepts to her, but she agreed. Right now, she’d agree to anything if it meant she had a chance to change her life.

  Imagine that …

  What must it be like to be bonded to a gigantic, living, space-faring entity?

  None of it felt entirely real. Also, as Alda repeated several times during the discussion, nothing was guaranteed. She told Nuri about the star-jumper nymph on another planet half a galaxy away that had called not one but seven, and yet it had been one of the uncalled, a young Heran cleaner working in the facility, who’d ended up bonding during the emergence. In other words, Nuri should not let this incredible privilege go to her head.

  Most importantly, she must not talk about her origins. They concocted a story for her, that she was the daughter of a Merchanter in service to Fadhil, and he’d taken her in as a favour to her parents, who even now were trading in a distant quadrant of the galaxy. Under no circumstances must she let on that she was an erstwhile barrens-dweller. The media would be all over it, and more status-proud patrons would pull their funding, along with their Chosen. Nuri wasn’t sure how she felt about this, but she agreed that it was for the best. Imagine the scions of some Elder family finding out that they were rubbing shoulders with scum. With space trash, as some would say. Ugh.

  It was mid-afternoon when the meeting was over. Fadhil first shook Alda’s hand, then clasped Nuri’s.

  “Whatever happens, you will do well. You will make me proud.”

  “You are not my father,” Nuri said, withdrawing her hands from the man’s grasp while maintaining eye contact.

  “I am aware of that fact, dear girl.” His smile told her that he wasn’t at all bothered by her attitude. To Alda, he said, “I bid you a good day, Facilitator.”

  Alda inclined her head. “We will be in touch.”

  “I look forward to it.” With that, he departed.

  “Ah, Raphel, right on time,” Alda said as a grey-uniformed man entered in Fadhil’s wake.

  Raphel wasn’t much taller than Nuri, but she estimated him to be in his mid-twenties or thereabouts with blue-black skin and close-cropped dark hair. What he lacked in height, he made up with energy. A smile transformed his angular features.

  “And you must be our newest recruit.” It was not a question, and he had a way of looking right into her that made Nuri fix her gaze on the toes of her too-white sneakers.

  “Yes,” Nuri mumbled.

  The man’s honest regard of her was … It just felt weird not having everyone look at her as if she was less than the dirt underfoot.

  “Raphel will settle you in. There’s quite a bit that needs to be done before you can get started,” Alda said. It was a clear dismissal, because the woman had fitted a slim set of lenses to her face, and was starting to scroll.

  “C’mon then, luv,” said Raphel, gesturing to the door. “Let’s get the routine out of the way. I promise you it’s only a momentary inconvenience compared to what awaits you.”

  While they traversed the passages and then crossed the grounds to another of the low-lying prefab buildings, Raphel kept up a constant stream of chatter about the facility. From what Nuri learnt in the ten or so minutes it took them to arrive at the clinic, this was a boot camp of sorts. Not all the Chosen would be selected to stand for the emergence. Only the best would have that honour, once they passed two winnowings. After all, the avatar of a star-jumper would have to be part-captain, part-diplomat and deal with whatever else the galaxy could throw at them, be it outsmarting pirates or negotiating a trade route through contested space.

  Nuri grew dizzy trying to imagine all these scenarios. Who was she, a runner and thief, to even consider that she might cope? They passed recruits who were training, and they all looked so fit, well-muscled and … efficient. Next to them, she was a scrawny, pale and undersized thing, barely past her twelfth or thirteenth year, if Vadith’s pronouncement about her age was true. Even he wasn’t entirely sure.

  “Here we are,” Raphel said as the door slid open and they were admitted to the clinic.

  She was made to sit on a chair that reclined so far back she ended up staring at the ceiling, while technicians came in and fussed over her. They stuck needles into her to draw blood and tissue samples. Scanning devices whirred and hummed as the AI assessed whatever it needed to. Nuri didn’t ask. She scrunched her eyes shut during the
worst of it, and tried to ignore the muttering of the technicians as they came back for a second and then a third round of tissue samples.

  “What’s up?” Nuri eventually asked Raphel, who’d sat next to Nuri the entire time.

  “It’s your DNA makeup, luv,” Raphel whispered. “They really haven’t seen anything quite like you.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  “It means you’re special.” He actually winked at her.

  Try as she might, Nuri couldn’t see what was funny about it, and she was entirely too glad when this part of the routine was done.

  There it was – she was space trash. The technicians knew it, didn’t have to elaborate. Only half human and not quite enough of anything else. She could have looked in the mirror and told everyone that without having had all the tests done. There were dozens if not hundreds of humanoid races out in the galaxy, and it was hardly a surprise that another had popped out of a backwater solar system. Nuri had heard enough about how different races were often patrons for others, and how a sort of great-great-great-grandparent race had started it all – the fabled Progenitors, which no one had ever found. But it was all science and history stuff, and she’d never had a chance to learn about it properly. Maybe now she’d be able to … That would be awesome.

  Nuri was sent to yet another room where a Heran woman dressed all in white injected her with a bunch of stuff.

  “Never been vaccinated!” the technician exclaimed. “How you haven’t contracted half the bloody plagues out there, I don’t know!”

  Nuri tried to explain that she never really got sick, but Raphel whisked her off to another room where an ancient human male shaved her hair to the scalp. She had to give up all her jewellery as well – every earring, nose ring, lip ring and even her belly-button ring.

  When she protested, Raphel demonstrated what might happen if someone accidentally punched her in the face. Besides, he reminded her, after the emergence she was welcome to put all the jewellery back in. But he couldn’t tell her when the nymph would emerge. It could be tomorrow, two weeks from now, or even in six months. The only reason they knew it would be soon was that there were four star-jumpers currently in orbit, and communication was passing between the nymph and the vessels.