by David Estes
Suddenly I feel dirty, not from my injuries, or from the sweat-inducing physical activity of the day, but just from being in this place—the Star Realm. I know it sounds bad, but it’s how I feel. “I want to take a shower,” I say, “but not with all the others in there. It reminds me too much of the Pen.” The idea of showering with a bunch of other girls has never appealed to me.
“I’ll go first,” she says, wrapping one of the towels around her and slipping off her clothes discreetly, so as to not embarrass me. She’s a good friend.
While she’s gone I lie on the hard bed, feel the lump of the gun under my head. The gun my mom gave me. My mom the general. God, it’s bizarre. I don’t want to think about my mom the way she is now—this strange person.
So instead I think about the Star Realm. It’s so different than I expected it to be. Growing up, I always believed the other Realms were these magical places. I wanted to travel to them, to take in the sights, to meet the people. It’s funny how when you haven’t been to a place before, sometimes you picture it so much better than it really is.
That reminds me of a book my grandmother used to read to me. It was one of the ones my relatives saved during Year Zero, handing it down from generation to generation. A book about the Beach, a strange open place where people go to lay in the sun and waste the day away. My grandmother read about the ocean, too, sparkling and cool under the heat of the afternoon sun, washing sand and shells up on the shore. Tickling the toes of the people on the sand. In the story, the ocean is endless, going as far as the eye can see—and then farther still, beyond the horizon. I picture it as a beautiful place and I want to see it for myself. I hope it’s as beautiful as I pictured—not like the Star Realm.
Tawni is back, hair wet and smiling. “The shower’s empty now,” she says.
“Thanks,” I say, my vision of the mythical ocean vanishing like a cloud of rock dust.
“The water’s cold, but not icy.”
“Awesome. Not icy. What a review.”
“Are you okay?” Tawni asks.
I know I’ve been in a mood lately, which is somewhat strange, considering I’ve got my family back. Well, sort of. “I’m sorry,” I say, my pained expression softening. “I know I’ve been difficult. It’s just that none of this is the way…I pictured it.”
“I know what you mean,” Tawni says, which makes me feel better.
* * *
Despite the iciness of the water—yes, Tawni’s idea of icy most certainly differs from my own—I leave feeling refreshed. From now on, I’m going to grab control of my emotions and try to be positive, like Tawni. My resolve holds when we leave the bunks, when we walk down the hall, when we descend the stairs, and even as we approach the mess hall.
But then I see Trevor and it shatters like blown glass.
I’m angry again and I don’t know why. I mean, I don’t even know what’s going on with Trevor, not for sure, but I feel like hitting him, punching him, kicking that arrogant smirk right off his face.
Of course, he’s waiting for us in front of the mess hall. And his smirk is because he’s still responsible for babysitting us—and he knows I hate it.
Deep breaths, I think. I try to hide my clench fists behind my hips.
“Hi, Trevor,” Tawni says remarkably cheerily, despite the fact that even she doesn’t trust him anymore.
“Hello, ladies.”
Ignoring Trevor, I sniff the air. The warm aroma of hot food and tangy sauces wafts through the entrance. A choir of voices rumbles beyond. My stomach growls, a result of our meager wafer lunch being interrupted by Mep’s four-foot-tall goon squad.
“Sounds like something is trying to claw its way out of there,” Trevor says, pointing at my stomach.
“It’s a moron-eating alien baby,” I retort, “and you’ll be first on the menu.” The meanness is becoming so natural it’s scary.
I don’t wait for a reaction or a response, striding past him and into the dim glow of the mess hall. This time, the only similarity to the Pen is the long, cafeteria-style tables filled with eaters. Everything else is different. The sounds: the room is abuzz with excited conversations, almost as if there isn’t a war happening miles above us. The soldiers almost seem…happy—if that’s even possible in this place. The smells: rather than gummy and putrid like in the Pen, the aromas are sweet and hot and flavorful. The décor: dark walls and orange lanterns give the room a mysterious feel, unlike the bright, sterile whites of the juvenile detention center where I was a guest for six months.
There’s no one else in line as we’re the last to arrive, so I go right up and start filling my plate at the self-service food counter. Real sticky rice. Slabs of beef thick with brown gravy. Creamy mashed potatoes. I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.
I find a seat at the end of one of the long tables, leaving a few seats between me and the other soldiers. When I take my first bite of the delicious food I almost gag. The taste isn’t the problem, or the texture, or smell, or anything to do with the actual food. On the contrary, the food is amazing, everything I expected it to be. But I realize it’s just another example of how the Star Realm army is better resourced than they should be. Not just better. Way better. Like they should be eating stale bread, but instead they’re eating prime rib. Something’s not right, and so I can’t seem to swallow the food, like my mind won’t let me.
I take a swig from my cup of water and force the bite down my throat and into my belly, which feels like it reaches up with starving hands and grabs the chewed-up food, pulling it the rest of the way down.
Tawni and Trevor sit down. “How’s the food?” Trevor says. He knows exactly how it is.
“Delicious,” I say, taking another bite and repeating the water trick to get it down.
Tawni looks at me strangely, like she knows I’m only telling half the truth, but then shrugs and starts eating.
When Trevor focuses on his dinner, I hazard a glance at him. What are you hiding, you little creep? How have you managed to gain my mom’s undying trust? I will find out. And when I do…
“Training begins at seven tomorrow,” Trevor says into his food.
“When do we leave for the Moon Realm?”
Trevor looks at me with one eye closed, as if he’s sizing me up, and then says, “I dunno. No one does. Everything’s on hold while the moon and star dwellers send messages back and forth, trying to come to an agreement.”
A bad feeling begins to squirm within the pit of my stomach and it’s not from the food. How can I trust the star dweller generals to do the right thing, to listen to the moon dwellers, when they were the ones who decided to bomb us to hell and back again? I make a mental note to ask my mom about that, among other things.
Because of the delightful taste, and despite my dark thoughts, I manage to finish the whole plate of food in front of me. Which is good, because I need my strength.
“What next?” I say as we’re leaving.
“Whatever you want,” Trevor says. “Evenings are your time.”
Tawni yawns. “I’m pretty tired. I might just hit the hay.”
My body feels tired but my mind is sharp and there’s no way I’ll be able to sleep. “Can you walk her back, Trevor?” I ask. He raises his eyebrows—an unspoken question. “I won’t leave the army grounds,” I say, determined not to get angry at having to answer to him.
He bites his lip. The last time he left me I got into all kinds of trouble. Another decision point. To my surprise, he says, “Fine. Don’t do anything stupid.”
“Yes, sir,” I say, mocking him. It’s a dumb thing to do, but I can’t help myself.
Thankfully, he ignores my impudence and says stiffly, “Goodnight.”
“’Night.”
Tawni winks at me knowingly before she goes. Her fatigue has granted me a minor reprieve from Trevor’s watchful eye.
When they’re gone, I take a deep breath. Today has felt like it’s lasted a week or more. The shock of finding my mother and discovering she�
�s a general in the star dweller army, the physical training activities, my half-crazed assault on Mep’s hideout, my suspicions about Trevor and Mom’s involvement in the army’s seemingly unlimited resources: all add up to one thing—one hell of a long freaking day. But it’s not over yet.
I go to find my mom to confront her.
Chapter Eighteen
Tristan
Roc’s asleep, which I’m glad about, because it gives him a break from the emotional turmoil of the last few hours. I’m lying on my bed, staring at the picture Roc drew of my mom/his mom. Somehow it gives me hope because I know that their genes are in us, and not just my father’s.
The door opens and a crack of light cuts through the dim glow of the lanterns. My heart sinks when I see who it is.
Ben.
Come to tell me I’m a screw-up. Come to tell me to leave.
“How’s Roc?” he whispers.
It’s not the first thing I expected him to say, but I guess it makes sense because Ben’s such a good person. He cares about people. He’s everything my father is not.
“We’re okay,” I say.
At that he raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t pursue it further. Instead, he sits down on the foot of my bed. “I’ll pack up my things and we’ll leave as soon as Roc wakes up,” I say, preempting him and trying to make the conversation easier.
Now both his eyebrows are raised. “You’re leaving? But why?”
“You don’t need to do this, Ben. I know I screwed up. I know I ruined all your plans. Maybe if I just go silently into the night you can show the VPs that you’re listening to them.”
“You think I’m here to kick you out?” Ben asks, the hint of a smile in his tone.
“Uh, aren’t you?”
“Quite the opposite. The VPs have agreed to support us, support you.” When my mouth drops open, he adds, “All of them.”
For perhaps the first time in my life, I’m completely speechless. It’s not that I don’t have words fluttering around in my brain, but there are too many of them trying to get out my mouth at the same time, so it’s like they get stuck on my lips as I continue to gawk at Adele’s father.
Finally, I manage, “That’s not possible. But I—”
“You spoke from the heart, Tristan. Just like I told you to. And they got it—every word of it. Nice touch stomping out of the room, I might add.”
Bizarre. This whole thing is bizarre. “But I just went crazy angry like a bitter child,” I protest.
“Look, I don’t know how else to say this, but it worked. Whether you planned it that way or not—it worked. We’ve got thirteen of the moon dweller VPs on our side. But the hard part is still to come. They’ve arranged a video conference with the rest of the VPs, who won’t be such an easy sell, that I can promise you. And there’s a catch,” Ben says, raising a finger in the air.
I’m still in shock, but my mind is slowly catching up to the situation. “What catch?”
“The cease-fire with the Star Realm will be expiring soon, so there’s really no time to delay our discussions with their leaders further. So they’ll be invited to the conference, too. They’ll be listening in, and available to comment, if necessary.” He pauses, looks me in the eyes. “We’ll need you to be a part of it—to show everyone you’re serious about this. Are you ready for that?”
“Uh. I guess so.”
“Good. And Tristan?”
“Yeah?”
“A word of advice. Don’t stomp from the room this time.” Ben’s smiling, and although I know he means it, I also know he’s joking.
I grin back. “Thanks, Ben. Thank you very much.”
* * *
I’ve been here before. I feel the air exit my lungs as I’m slammed against the hard stone wall. “Do you always have to do that?” I gasp.
Ram’s face is as hard as the stone he’s just flung me against. “I don’t know how you do it, sun boy, but you haven’t fooled me.”
“I didn’t know I was supposed to be trying to,” I reply smartly, still trying to get a full breath in.
“You might have convinced a few VPs, but the rest won’t fall for your lies. Just remember—”
“I know, you’ll be watching me. I get it. Now freaking put me down.”
Grudgingly, Ram lowers me to my feet and stomps away. I slump against the wall, my chest heaving and my heart racing. God, I hate that guy. No matter which side he’s on.
Although Roc’s invited to the conference—because I insisted—I’ve left him in the room because he’s still not feeling up to it. Everything’s fine between us, but it will take time before he’s ready to get involved in things again. And that’s okay. I can do this on my own—for him.
Ram was supposed to escort me to the videoconference, but I guess that’s not going to happen now.
After a few minutes of haggard panting, I’m able to start moving again, thankfully without my escort. I don’t take the shortcut past the Diamond Lake this time, because I want to see other humans before going into the room full of VPs.
As I cross through the common area, I relish the sound of people talking and eating dinner. The Resistance. Men and women and some kids, too, all acting like they’re just having a normal meal together in a normal place. There’s laughing and joking and smiles. If it wasn’t for responsibility, I’d want to be there next to them. As it is, the last thing on my mind is food and companionship.
I’m not sure exactly how to get to the top floor from here, but I figure it won’t be too difficult. At one end of the commons is the tunnel that leads to the steps that go up one level, to the room where I originally met with the Resistance leaders. Further along the curving atrium wall are three other tunnel entrances. Two look narrow and twist sharply out of view as I peer into them. The third is wider, taller, and looks like a main tunnel, so I enter it quickly, watching my shadows dance along the brownish-gray ground as I pass each wall-mounted lantern.
Shortly, I reach an opening to the right, the entrance to a spiral staircase. The tunnel continues on past the opening, but I need to go up, not onwards, so I duck under the archway. I count the steps as I climb, ignoring the door on each landing as I pass by.
One hundred and twenty-five steps later I reach the top. Although the door is metal and heavy and thick, I can hear the buzz of activity beyond. As usual, I’m late to the party.
Slowly, I pull the door back. The murmured conversations grow louder as I enter and close the door firmly behind me. From the VPs, I get a few glances, a few frowns, and even a few smiles. All I get from Ram is a disgusted upturned lip from the corner of the room. Vice President Morgan is at the head of the table again, with Ben next to her. I round the table toward him even before he beckons me with an open palm.
Along one of the long walls is a large screen, which wasn’t there earlier in the day, but, at the moment, is displaying only white fuzz.
The instant my butt hits the seat, Morgan says, “Order!” and thumps her fist twice on the table. The murmurs die down quickly and those who are standing—except for Ram—take their seats. Although Morgan is speaking, most of the eyes are on me, and even when I look away from them to focus on Morgan, I can feel them on my face. Heat rises in my cheeks, but I try to ignore it so it’ll go away.
“We only have a few minutes before we go live with the other moon dweller VPs,” Morgan starts. “As you all know, the star dweller leaders will be watching, too, so keep that in mind. We are in a difficult position, because we don’t have a majority opinion prior to involving the Star Realm, which I don’t think any of us wanted, but they’ve left us with no choice. The cease-fire will expire at the same time tomorrow, so we need to reach an agreement quickly, and this is the only way.” I’m thankful for the recap, since I left the last meeting before all of this was discussed. No one speaks as Morgan pauses to take a sip from a coppery jug of water.
“Now, I want to reconfirm our position to ensure everyone is still in agreement. After hearing from Tristan Nailin earlier
…” she says, and I cringe when I hear my last name spoken out loud. My father has made me ashamed of it. I want to be Tristan. Just Tristan. “…we all agreed that he is telling us the truth and wants to help the Resistance overthrow his father, and that we could use his help to convince the other VPs. Given we have all had additional time to think about it, are we all still in agreement?”
The room is silent and I’m afraid to take my eyes off of Morgan to scan the faces around the table, but I know I have to. I have to show I’m not hiding anything—that I meant what I said earlier. I turn my head and gaze around the room, lingering on each VP’s eyes, not flinching from their stares. I’m doing my part, in an odd sort of way.
With every person I look at, I expect them to shout “You’re a fraud!!” but they don’t. They just look back, some nodding, some seemingly indifferent. After a few minutes of silence, Morgan says, “We’ve got one minute. I need positive confirmation of your positions. Abbott, I’ll start with you.” The woman to her right says, “I’m with you.”
As they move around the table, each VP affirms that they’re on our side—on my side. I’m still shocked by the incredible turnaround from earlier, when their words were harsh and their expressions harsher.
When they get back to Morgan, she nods at me encouragingly. “Okay, here’s how this will go. I’ll begin and then hand over to Tristan to speak. Then the other VPs will have the chance to ask questions, make comments. Understood?” She’s talking to everyone, but only looking at me. I jerk my chin down. I’m more than ready for this. I’ll do anything to help stop my father.
“Right. We go live in three, two, one…” Clearly some technician is watching the proceedings because suddenly the screen goes all white and then flashes back to life, as the picture comes into focus. At first there are raggedy lines of static running across the panel but soon the clarity improves.
