“So, I’m here today to tell anyone who doesn’t fit in, who gets bullied for whatever reason – they look different, don’t have the right connections or whatever – to say screw that. What do those idiots know what’s going on in your head?
“Your friends, the ones who stick with you? Love them. The ones who don’t, well, tell them to get lost. This is not going to be fancy talk about trading plans and the other nonsense the Elders, the Merchanters and the Military families want to hear. This is me telling you to sing down the stars – find out what you want and don’t listen to the people who tell you that you can’t. And that’s all I’m going to say. Go out there and be excellent.”
A stunned silence greeted her.
Then Mei stood up, her eyes gleaming, and she started clapping. Byron followed, and then Opna, Raphel and F’Thr. After that, it was an avalanche of cheering, stomping and applause. Nuri allowed herself a grin, gave a short bow, and left the stage.
She hadn’t promised anyone a thing. Except Fadhil – she would do right by him. The rest she’d deal with when it came up.
Meet me on the roof, Nuri said silently to K’Lutri. I hate goodbyes, and if I have to wait any longer, this is going to be ugly.
That was if Nuri could find the roof. The amphitheatre was about three-quarters of the way up one of the spires, and Nuri plunged into a warren of elevated walkways, hunting for the elevator. Her robes interfered with her strides along the glass-plated corridors. Nearly everyone was assembled in the amphitheatre, and it was strange to see the building so deserted. All the better to make her escape.
Nuri shrugged out of the constricting garment and left it pooled on the floor behind her like a discarded skin so she could start forward only in her flight suit. Like a dart-fly emerging from its cocoon. The thought gave her chills, for all the right reasons. She was growing, changing. She could taste K’Lutri’s desire to leave the atmosphere. Like the promise of a drink of cool water on a hot day.
The lift is two corridors to your left, K’Lutri supplied. I’ve overridden the AI so it won’t stop at any other floors.
Nuri stifled a laugh. No wonder they’re so nice to you.
Who wouldn’t be?
The promised lift was waiting as Nuri rounded the corner, and she all but collapsed against the mirrored interior as the doors hissed closed and she started to ascend. She was shivering, and her stomach cramped something fierce, but the worst was over. Escape. Such a strange word, but it was really what she was doing now, wasn’t it?
Her startlingly pale face stared back at her from an infinity of reflections. Nuri had always hated mirrors – they showed her what a freak she was, with her fine spattering of iridescent scales spreading even further across her cheeks than the last time she’d studied herself.
It’s who you are supposed to be, K’Lutri supplied.
What? Space trash?
No. Siya.
An image flashed in Nuri’s mind of tall, willowy angelic-looking beings with cobalt, indigo or violet eyes. White hair, near-translucent skin shining with pearlescent scales.
They’re not one of the races I’ve ever seen, Nuri sent.
They are few and secretive. They are the keepers of the Sjihami, when they can.
But not all avatars are these … Siya, Nuri said.
No. Not all. They are too few, and all Sjihami must have a link to the world of matter. We make do with what material is at hand.
The lift slid to a halt and the doors sighed open. Nuri blinked in brightness as she stepped onto the rooftop, into a world of sky. Wreathed in mist, the other spires appeared distant. A shadow fell upon her, blocking out the sun, and she looked up at K’Lutri’s underbelly that was so close she could almost reach out to touch the glittering surface. This close, she could see that it was mostly grey, made up of thousands of glittering granules, despite the colours shimmering over it. Beautiful. She could stare at this forever.
It is time.
Nuri sucked in a breath as what she could only describe as a limb descended, bonelessly, from an aperture above. Light bled out of the interior, warm and inviting.
I have prepared a space for you.
This was it. Her pulse thundered in her ears as she stepped forward, across the poured-stone floor, towards the platform waiting to accept her, like an extended hand.
As she put her foot down on the oddly pliant surface, someone behind her called out: “Wait!”
Nuri turned to see Raphel hanging back by the doorway to the lift.
A sudden pang of guilt gripped her. “Sorry. I couldn’t anymore.”
“I know. But you forgot something, luv.”
“I hate goodbyes.”
“This is not about goodbyes,” Raphel said, and extended a gift bag, like the ones she’d seen in films or series. It was plain, a dusty eggshell-blue with gold-ribbon handles.
Nuri hesitated. All of her clamoured to ascend and be gone, and her face was warm from the shame of knowing that she’d run away so impolitely.
Raphel. For all his faults, he’d still done what he could to make her time at the facility bearable. He wasn’t a friend, exactly. Ancestors, she wasn’t even sure he’d tried hard enough to find her while she was AWOL. But he was here now, and it didn’t look as if he’d interfere with her leaving.
You don’t owe him anything, K’Lutri reminded her.
I know.
Nuri closed the distance between her and her former mentor, and grasped the gift bag.
“Open it when you’re on-board,” he said.
Unaccountably, Nuri’s eyes blurred with tears, and she had to blink rapidly to dispel them.
“Thank you.”
Raphel’s smile was brighter than she’d have expected. “I don’t do goodbyes either, so I’ll see you around, kid.”
“Yes.” Nuri was able to laugh. “See you around, Raphel.”
He turned and vanished into the lift’s waiting doors, which slid shut right behind him. He did not look back.
Her regret for how things were ending was hot and sharp, but Nuri dashed those feelings away. No going back.
She turned to K’Lutri’s platform and took that last step that would sever her ties with this planet. Whether she’d ever come back, whether she’d ever see her former squad again, in any shape or form, she didn’t know.
K’Lutri drew Nuri inside in a manner that was reminiscent of being in an elevator. The walls were bright, almost infinite, yet when Nuri reached out, she brushed a smooth surface that pulsed under her touch.
She stepped into what she could only describe as a reasonable imitation of her last room in the facility. Or, rather, the idea of what that room was.
There were no hard edges. The space was roughly oblong, and the walls curved up to a vaguely dome-shaped ceiling. To one side was a cream-coloured couch that might double as a bed, complete with fluffy pillows and a throw. The floor was springy beneath Nuri’s feet, made up of the same almost-pliant substrate as the walls, all in neutral tones.
We can change the colours, if you like.
“No … it’s … fine … For now … Nuri had to consciously keep her mouth closed to stop herself from gaping. At her touch, seamless panels slid back from the walls to reveal space where she might store clothing and other items.
I know you don’t have things to bring with, but I can synthesise what you need until we visit a port.
“Thank you.” Nuri’s breath grew short at the sense that this was home. Her home.
Yes, came K’Lutri’s affirmation. And as I grow, we can make this bigger. Some of my brethren are nearly small towns with entire families sustained within.
“This is all so much to take in.”
Nuri explored further and found facilities that could best be described as a small, contained bathroom, and another that doubled as a kitchenette and laundry.
Are you going to open your gift from Raphel? I want to see what he brought you.
“Oh!” Nuri felt almost ashamed that she’d all
but ignored the gift bag. She reached in, and the first thing her hand encountered was a plant. Her ghost orchid, to be precise – the one Fadhil had given her. The leaves were still glossy, but what made her gasp was the tightly furled flower stalk that nestled in the plant’s crown.
We need a place to put that.
Movement caught Nuri’s eye, and she watched as a pedestal formed next to the bed, a cylinder rising from the floor that was just the right width on which to place the orchid.
Nuri smiled. “I feel terrible for having left it behind.”
Raphel is a good friend. Now, what else is in that bag?
“Why do I have a feeling you already know?”
I hate ruining surprises.
Nuri reached in and clasped a metal object, and she knew exactly what it was before she’d even withdrawn her hand.
Fadhil’s dragon pin. Her promise. She’d left it on her bedside table at the facility that morning; she’d intended to wear it but had been caught up in the rush to attend the memorial service. The worst was that she’d not even missed it yet.
A sob built in her chest. “I’m a terrible person.”
No, you’re not. You’ve just had a lot happening to you. To us.
With trembling fingers, Nuri stuck the pin into the lapel of her flight suit. “There. I’m not losing this again. And I will find Fadhil’s daughter.”
We will. Now, come to the bridge.
A panel slid aside to reveal a chamber that could only be right atop K’Lutri’s head, by Nuri’s estimation. Viewed from outside, it was no more than a dome-shaped, crystalline protrusion, but the interior consisted of a viewing port with a comfortable chair.
I thought you might like a window. Not all those who bond with Sjihami wish to see outside.
“I’ll be able to see the stars.” They were so high up already that Calan City looked like a model rather than a real city. But what made Nuri gasp was the other Sjihami. In the time that Nuri had boarded K’Lutri, they’d ascended so that they were now on a level with the others.
She’d considered K’Lutri large, but now, up close to the mature Sjihami, Nuri realised that K’Lutri was only a fraction of their size.
“Are you going to get that … big?”
K’Lutri’s amusement rippled through Nuri. I hope so! They wish to greet us, but I understand if it is overwhelming. We will rest here a short while to commune, and then we’ll go.
“Go where?”
You have a message. You may want to sit down for this.
Curious, Nuri obeyed. The chair wasn’t so much upholstered as much as its surface was skin. Living skin. And it was warm to the touch and far, far too comfortable. That made sense, considering nearly everything on-board was part of the very fabric of K’Lutri. This would take some getting used to …
Nuri’s AR flashed with the incoming message, and she closed her eyes so that she could watch the visual without interference. The date stamp read thirteen years ago. What?
A woman appeared before her, an ageless, alien beauty with high cheekbones. Large, unblinking indigo eyes regarded Nuri, the pupils vertical slits. Her skin was covered in pale opalescent scales, and her mane of shock-white hair reached her shoulders.
The recognition thrilled through Nuri. It was almost as if she was looking into a mirror in ten, twenty years’ time.
“Greetings, daughter,” said the woman. “I apologise for the pre-recorded message, for I am travelling far. My name is Nuisala, and by now your Sjihaam will have the coordinates for the star Ha-Rena. I wish to meet you.” The woman smiled faintly then the image minimised.
For a moment all Nuri could do was sit, blinking. The interior of the bridge was too bright, and obligingly K’Lutri dimmed the diffuse light source.
The name. It struck deep. It felt right. Like home.
“What?” Nuri choked out.
Your mother wishes to see you.
“But she left me here, on my own, all these years!” The anger burnt inside her.
She had a purpose.
“Yes … but …” Nuri swiped away tears before they could form. Breathing was difficult. All those years believing she had no parents. Abandoned, left to fend for herself among the lowest of the low … Left there as if she’d been expected to succeed. That it was a foregone conclusion.
You are stronger for the adversity.
“Was it really fair?” Nuri asked.
Life isn’t fair. But think of it this way – if you’d not been where you were, you might never have found me. I’m sure your mother had her reasons.
“And for her to summon me as if I’m just there for her. Well, that’s rubbish.”
But she had a mother! Nuri couldn’t deny the excitement that welled up inside her.
“How long before we can reach Ha-Rena?”
I do not yet possess that range. Jumping stars, approximately ten years.
“Ten years?”
I am young still. I must grow stronger so I can fold time and space.
“I guess that decides things for us.” Nuri tried to stop her disappointment from bleeding through their bond. As much as she’d like to grab her mother by her shoulders and shake her until her teeth rattled, that wasn’t going to happen just yet, evidently.
Four new incoming messages flashed in Nuri’s AR, and she had a sense that her universe was going to get that much bigger. She inhaled deeply and settled further into the chair, watching as the massive Sjihami shifted in the atmosphere before her.
“Let’s meet these other avatars, shall we?”
And then the stars.
“Yes, and then the stars.”
Summary
“Who are your parents?”
“You’ve never received a formal education?”
“Have you ever killed anyone?”
“Are you sure you don’t know who your parents are?”
On and on the questions came, until Nuri lost track. All that she’d learnt spun around in her head – Nuri, a nobody who didn’t know who her parents were, had been called by a star-jumper. What did it mean to be an avatar? Would this be freedom, of sorts? Or would she be a slave again?
Vadith would be furious when she didn’t return to the Den. No one ran away from Vadith. If she was ever freed, she’d be cleaning bathrooms for a year once he laid his paws on her.
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.”
Nuri’s world faded while she processed this new information. Chosen? Could she really be more than space trash?
About the Author
Nerine Dorman is an editor and author from Cape Town. She has been involved in the media industry for more than a decade, with a background in magazine and newspaper publishing, commercial fiction, independent filmmaking, print production management and advertising. She is also a founding member and co-ordinator for the Adamastor Writers’ Guild.
First published in 2019 by Tafelberg,
an imprint of NB Publishers,
a division of Media24 Boeke (Pty) Ltd,
40 Heerengracht, Cape Town 8001
www.tafelberg.com
Text © 2019 Nerine Dorman
All rights reserved.
No part of this electronic book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying and recording, or by any other information storage or retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher.
Cover design by Nadene Kriel, nkcreative
E-book design by Wouter Reinders
Available in print:
First edition in 2019
ISBN: 978-0-624-08748-9
Epub edition:
First edition in 2019
ISBN: 978-0-624-08749-6 (epub)
Mobi edition:
First edition in 2019
ISBN: 978-0-624-08750-2 (m
obi)
Table of Contents
Title Page
Award
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
About the Book Summary
About the Author
Imprint Page
Sing Down the Stars Page 26
