Sing Down the Stars

by Nerine Dorman

  Nuri had just enough space to curl up into a little ball of misery. What she’d do for water. Even a bite to eat, though the thought of food made her stomach turn over. She dragged the plastic around herself in a makeshift blanket, an illusion of warmth.

  No sooner had she arranged herself into the least-uncomfortable position she could manage than she was deep asleep. She didn’t dream.

  19

  The big screen above the public square showed Nuri’s face larger than life. Wanted in connection with murder and Considered a dangerous rogue psi flashed so bright the red seared her retinas.

  Nuri pulled the stolen hoodie low so only her nose stuck out as she slipped between the early-morning shoppers – just another homeless crim, so far as they were concerned. She hoped. The Nuri depicted in the urgent newsflash looked mean, predatory almost. Her heart thundered as she watched the report play out.

  Wanted in connection with the murder of Mei Lin.

  * * *

  No breath.

  Nuri had to lean against a streetlight so she could look up at the screen.

  The newscast flashed to a scene recorded at an abandoned industrial area, bots and drones flitting about. Three Herans and a gangly human in the midnight blue of Calan City Security stood about while a pretty Heran reporter asked them questions. There wasn’t any sound – Nuri supposed she could’ve accessed the audio if she’d still had her implant. For now, all she saw were mouths opening and shutting, with subtitles appearing in white, shadowed text below.

  Mei was last seen arguing with the suspect outside her family estate. After that, she was forced into the now-deceased Citizen Fadhil Tien’s vehicle.

  That was the gist of it.

  Lies! She hadn’t seen Mei since that assembly! How was this even possible?

  Wanted, assumed highly dangerous.

  Grief made eddies in Nuri’s belly, and she choked back her whimpers as she slipped between the crowds. Mei dead? It seemed unreal, part of the world of the screen and not real life. But they wouldn’t broadcast footage this damning if it wasn’t true.

  Nuri blinked back the tears that had blurred her vision, then straightened, swiping at her eyes with the back of her hand.

  There’d be time to grieve later. What was all too apparent now was that there was no way she could return to the facility. Not if she was wanted for murder.

  How in the ancestors’ names had this happened? Was this the last stand of her enemies? The implications almost brought her to her knees – she wouldn’t be able to stand for the emergence.

  This truth crashed into her so hard she had to go lean against the wall of one of the stalls. The sickly sweet smell of fried pandor kebabs turned her stomach, her mouth so dry her tongue was sandpaper. She was both hungry and nauseated.

  I’m sorry.

  Whether she meant that for Mei, the nymph, or both, Nuri wasn’t sure.

  For a while, all she could do was concentrate on her breathing until she no longer felt like collapsing. How could everything have gone so wrong in less than twenty-four hours?

  The newscast switched to a report on the remaining nineteen Chosen. She noted how they were all scions of the elite – Merchanter, Military and Elder. Of course they were. Nuri was never going to be allowed among them.

  Nuri turned away and limped down a side alley into rows of electronics tinkers. She’d seen enough. They – whoever they were – had won. Nuri was back to being a barrens crim – not only that, but an apparent murderer too. She may as well have been the one to strangle Mei herself. If it weren’t for her, Mei might still be alive.

  Guilt pushed her deeper into the maze of dwellings and stores with its masses of non-Citizens. This was where she belonged – in this faceless horde. Here she’d would figure out a plan B.

  If she could.

  20

  “Don’t bother coming back unless you can do better,” Nana spat, her multiple silver rings chiming as she flattened her ears against her scalp.

  “The area’s overworked,” Nuri countered. “We’ve been hitting the yards too hard.”

  On either side of Nana, her two big sons bristled, agitated, their mottled-grey fur rising.

  Nana’s laugh was rough, and she flashed her fangs at Nuri. “Oh, now the space trash presumes to tell me how to run my territory. How sweet of you.”

  Nana placed a paw over the meagre pile of metal scraps Nuri had salvaged. A small pile, but all rare, expensive alloys that melted down were worth far more than what Nana was paying. It hadn’t been easy for Nuri to get into the junkyards. She’d nearly been caught by the security bot Nana hadn’t warned her about.

  “I just say it like it is,” Nuri said.

  One of the lads grumbled, a menacing sound right on the edge of Nuri’s hearing. She maintained eye contact with Nana, though. Not the greatest idea to anger one of the Mahai, but necessary if she didn’t want the clan matriarch to regard her as a complete pushover.

  Nana huffed. “Very well. I’ll ease up. I need you to run a parcel to the north-western barrens. I’m told you know the area tolerably well?”

  Nuri’s heart sank and her expression must’ve betrayed her, because Nana narrowed her eyes.

  “Do you want me to continue facilitating your plans to leave this dirt pit or not? It would be far easier and more convenient to turn you in to the authorities for that lovely reward.”

  Nuri broke eye contact and dipped her head respectfully, though doing so made her furious. “Yes, esteemed mother.” That was the correct terms of address when speaking to the matriarch of a Mahai clan. Not many outsiders bothered with the correct honorifics, but Nuri had learnt quickly. Another reason why Nana had taken her on – Nuri had mastered the fine balance between having backbone and knowing when to back down.

  Nuri’s status as a wanted criminal was another element Nana used to wield control over her. Currently it suited this Mahai to enjoy the status of having such a notorious crim at her beck and call. People were scared of Nuri now.

  The two brothers relaxed, though their ears were still pressed down and Lucen’s tail twitched. Later, they’d most likely try to assert their dominance on her, but she was still faster and more agile than the sub-adult males.

  Nana huffed again then nudged her sons, and it was Gader who slipped beyond the ratty tapestry to go fetch whatever it was Nana wanted delivered. Secretly, Nuri was glad she was going out almost immediately, even if it was nearing dawn. The mood in the Mahai network of dens was ugly here in the far south. Another clan’s rogues had been wandering where they shouldn’t, and it wouldn’t surprise her if there were more skirmishes before sunrise. After all, it was breeding season among the clan females. They’d be up all night with their calling and carousing.

  Nana took the package from her son, then grasped Nuri’s right hand. “You make sure that this gets to Rill over at Churbagho’s Tavern. You heard of it?”

  The name wasn’t familiar, but Nuri nodded. “If it’s in the north-west, I’ll find it.”

  “Clever girl.” Nana shooed her away, and Nuri made herself a shadow.

  It wasn’t a bad life she’d carved for herself while she was trying to figure things out. While the Mahai could be violent and objectionable, they left her to her own devices, unlike Vadith, who insisted that his runners worked in packs.

  And she’d come far in the three weeks since she’d left the facility – not that she’d found any new information about circumstances surrounding Mei’s murder. From the starveling, injured waif to the determined shadow, she supposed. Even though the pall of grief hung over her constantly. She’d worked through all the stages in a few days. Now she simply didn’t see the point in forging connections with people to love. After all, they’d only be taken away from her again, wouldn’t they? And she’d built walls around herself in terms of her psi-ability, drawing it in so that her powers had gone dormant – a cold, hard knot deep inside her, tucked away. Not even the Seed would be able to find her.

  A stroke of l
uck had brought her to Nana’s clan, and she’d been able to put her Chosen training to good use proving to the Mahai that she was worthwhile keeping in their employ. In turn, they called her “our pet” and, oddly enough, that had taken away the worst sting of her grief. Purpose was good, even if it was running for a criminal network. Others’ goals made up for the fact that she didn’t have any of her own.

  But even as she ran now, taking to the rooftops and skimming the walls of the south-western barrens, a hollowness trailed her. No matter how far, how fast she ran, it was always there, whispering to her in Fadhil’s voice or staring after her with Mei’s accusing eyes.

  If Mei had been around for a heart to heart, Nuri was sure her friend would have told her that she was avoiding her issues, that if she made the effort to contact Raphel, Katha and the others, they could be made to understand.

  Yet even considering this made Nuri’s spirit die another fraction. How could she face them all now? Especially after this time had passed? Her absence was an admission of guilt. But I didn’t do it!

  They’d hear her out, but then they’d turn her over to the authorities. Even if she claimed she didn’t have blood on her hands, she knew her enemies had conspired to provide evidence to the contrary, and now Nuri didn’t even have Fadhil to lean on.

  So she ran, lighter than air, risking death-defying leaps over gaps, from rooftop to rooftop until it felt as if the sky was filling her with its emptiness. Emptiness was good. Hurt faded against the emptiness.

  Dawn found Nuri hunkering down in an old rail siding among derelict carriages. Others had had the same idea, so she struggled to find a compartment that was unused. The wind sighed through empty windows, the sky lightening enough for her to pick her way between the corroding hulks half-swamped by swathes of kaza weed. No flowers yet, but now was the season for rampant growth, and she fancied the leafy tendrils uncurled like slow fingers right before her eyes. Here and there golden light glinted from other barrens-dwellers’ stoves. She gave these areas a wide berth and pulled her hoodie low. Before she’d left the Mahai territory, she’d smeared soot on her face to obscure the gleam of her skin, but she still didn’t want to take any chances that she might be recognised.

  The rail siding was familiar to her. It lay on her old pack’s southernmost boundaries, and she couldn’t help a slight pang wondering how they were faring. Ancestors, did they even think of her? Probably not until her face had been plastered all over the media feeds. If she were lucky, they probably just sneered about how they’d known she’d come to a bad end after her meteoric rise into fortune.

  Nuri had tried and failed to avoid the newscasts about the coming emergence. Any day now, the reports stated. Vendors were advertising emergence-day specials. It’d hurt particularly when she’d caught a snippet where they’d interviewed Byron. His face had been broadcast from one of the huge billboard screens on a rooftop half a block away from where Nuri had been running, and she’d stumbled to a halt.

  Stars, that’d bit deep. Seeing him there, nodding, smiling distantly while he spoke. The subtitles had clued her in that he was talking about his training, and his expectations for opening new routes should he become avatar.

  What hurt more was the knowledge that the programme was continuing without her, like she simply didn’t matter beyond the fact that she was accused of murdering one of the few close friends she’d ever made. It’d taken Nuri half an hour to get her emotions under lockdown again. The last thing she’d needed was to miscalculate and splatter herself on the ground storeys below a jump. Even if she landed wrong, she could break a wrist or ankle, snap a collarbone. Her work required her to be fully engaged with her environment and her place within it, at all times. Emotions and regrets were for the soon-to-be dead.

  That was the spin she put on it.

  A rustling in the weeds behind her had Nuri glancing over her shoulder, but there was no one else in the narrow passage between two rows of derelict carriages. Then, a light scraping from above, to her right. She shifted so she could face the shadowy shape she suddenly saw was crouched on the roof of a carriage.

  It was a young Heran female, dressed in the dark, loose clothing of a runner.

  “Well, if it isn’t the prodigal daughter.” The Heran laughed.

  “Shiv?” Nuri could hardly believe her senses. One of her old pack. Then again, she shouldn’t be surprised – she was moving into their territory, after all. “How are you?”

  Shiv leapt down and approached Nuri. “Tolerably well. We hear you’re running for Mama Nana.”

  “And if I am?” Nuri was immediately wary. While it was not exactly a state secret that she was back, she’d pointedly avoided contact with anyone. Just to be safe.

  “Well then, I think you’ve got something for me. Vadith doesn’t like the junk cats trying to mark his territory.” Open hostility laced Shiv’s tone. She came to a halt too close to Nuri’s personal space.

  A click from behind and Nuri twisted and found herself face to face with G’Ren. He’d grown since she’d last seen him, and they stood eye to eye. His facial tentacles spread in the J’Veth approximation of a grin, but the pistol he had pointed at her midriff was unmistakeable. “I wish we could say well met, space trash, but we’re here on business. I’m sure Vadith will be most amused to know that you slipped right into our hands.”

  Dismay swarmed through her with a bitterness that made her want to smash that weapon right out of G’Ren’s hand, even if it meant opening herself up to retaliation from Shiv, who was no doubt similarly armed.

  Nuri exhaled slowly, raised her hands and turned so that she could keep Shiv in sight too. Yup. Shiv had a weapon as well – a small handheld blaster, easy to conceal in a palm but which could be deployed with deadly force.

  “Look, I don’t want any trouble,” Nuri said.

  G’Ren gave a low laugh. “What, you think you’re so much better than us now that you’re a Citizen?”

  “Not anymore. I think we can all agree I’ve given up any rights now that I’m on the city’s ‘most wanted’ list.”

  Shiv tugged the hoodie from Nuri’s head. The rush of chill night air made Nuri wince.

  “Yup.” Shiv felt at the nub of a scar that had formed at the base of Nuri’s skull. “Clever girl. You dug it out.”

  “I’m not completely brain dead,” Nuri bit back.

  “Coulda fooled me,” G’Ren said. “Now, are you gonna give us trouble or do we have to tie you up before we drag you to Vadith?”

  Nuri might as well try act dumb. “I can give you the package and we can call it quits.”

  Shiv dug roughly in the inner pockets of Nuri’s hoodie and retrieved the parcel. Grinning evilly, she stripped off the packaging to reveal nothing but a disk of scrap metal. Junk.

  “You’re the package, love,” Shiv jeered.

  So she’d been sold out. Nuri felt as if the breath had been knocked out of her. It wouldn’t even have surprised her if neither Rill nor Churbagho’s Tavern even existed.

  “What does Vadith want with me anyway?” The hopelessness of her situation floored her. There was no going back to the Mahai-held territories now. All the time she’d invested in running for Nana had come to this – she was a commodity to be traded between crime bosses when the time was right.

  G’Ren shrugged. “Dunno. Guess that’s for you to find out, no?”

  She could run now, and maybe, just maybe Shiv and G’Ren might not keep up. Or they could dog her and get in a few shots, which could cripple her.

  And then where would she go? North-eastern barrens? Unless she could take drastic measures to change her appearance, she’d be recognised eventually. News of a slight, unusually agile runner with translucent skin and scales would reach those looking for her sooner rather than later. Nuri was the only one of her kind in the entire metropolis.

  But if Vadith had wanted her dead, these two would’ve whacked her the first chance they had, which admittedly had been a hundred-fold thanks to her own carelessnes
s in wandering around not keeping chips. An oversight on her part.

  Nuri sighed, shrugged. “I won’t give you any trouble. Let’s see what the boss-thing wants.” She’d love to know what Vadith had offered Nana to entice her to this betrayal.

  Only as they started running at a leisurely pace did Nuri truly begin to feel the exhaustion tugging at her. And she was tired, tired of always looking over her shoulder, tired of worrying whether the next job was going to land her in deeper trouble. That she’d come full circle now, back to the starting point of her journey, made her sad.

  Sad on top of tired.

  21

  The Den was as she remembered it, perhaps a bit shabbier, and during her absence someone had found old festival lights that they’d wound around the chassis of the old trams that leant into the weird tripod. The lights flashed, alternating between glacial blue and lime green. A nice touch, she supposed, though judging by the churning in her stomach she was anything but pleased to have found her way here again.

  Mama Ria’s Tea Room was closed up tight already. In the not-so-distant past, someone had stupidly planted a kaza vine nearby, and it had swarmed half the building. The neighbouring Khu-Khut hive now sported a fifth tower, which was still clearly under construction and was nearly twice as high as its brethren. From where she, G’Ren and Shiv rested on a retaining wall opposite their destination, Nuri could only just make out the haze where the fens lay. Beyond that, the facility and the star-jumper. A momentary temptation to drop her psi-walls had her wavering. How could that even help? She’d only torment herself. In a day, a week maybe, the emergence would all be over, and she’d have one less thing to worry about.

  Her lips twisted into a wry half-grin.

  Ancestors, she could sleep for a week. During the day they’d holed up in the disused attic of an old assembly plant, the ground floor currently given over to a mushroom farm tended by bots that didn’t have enough AI to bother about the uninvited guests in the roof space above them. Now she was itchy, and would kill for even a lukewarm basin bath. And that wrap they’d shared earlier hadn’t even touched sides. Her stomach grumbled, and she doubted she’d see anything vaguely satisfying this evening.