The Star Dwellers

by David Estes

  Despite my better judgment, I look down. Below me is hell, frothing with fire and death. I gasp, let out a high-pitched shriek. Say something like, “Ohmygodohmygod!”

  I hear my mom yell from above. “Reach for the wall—both of you!”

  I look up and expect to see fear in her eyes, but instead there’s a gritty determination as she hangs on to something I can’t see. Tawni is also dangling precariously, barely clinging to the wall. My mom’s holding all of us up.

  I grit my teeth and reach out an uncertain foot to the wall, trying to stop us from swinging. As soon as my foot touches the wall, we start to spin, the rope twisting. It’s disorienting and it takes all of my willpower not to look down again. “Trevor,” I say, “reach for the wall on three.”

  “Okay!” he yells, his voice shaking.

  “One!” I take a deep breath. “Two.” My hearts slams against my ribcage. “Three!”

  We both kick and scrabble and stretch for the wall at the same time. Our synchronized motion stabilizes the swinging, spinning rope for a moment, and I’m able to find a rock to grab on to. One of my feet finds a hold, too, and suddenly I’m back on the wall, secure, as if none of it ever happened. The only reminder is the sharp pain in my shoulders from having Trevor’s weight pulling against the straps of my pack.

  “Now climb!” my mother yells.

  I don’t look up, or down—just straight at the wall, focused.

  “You can do it, Adele!” I hear Tawni yell from above. My trusted cheerleader has apparently made it. I push off once, twice, and then strong arms are pulling me over the top. My mother’s arms. My rock.

  I’m exhausted, but it’s not time to rest yet. Immediately I turn and grab one of Trevor’s arms as my mom grabs the other. We haul him up. The four of us lie in a row, panting, laughing stupidly, our tongues hanging out.

  When I finally manage to push to my feet, I’m stunned by the sight before me. In the least likely of spots, there’s a train, doors open and ready to whisk us away.

  Finally, I’m going to see Tristan again.

  And my family.

  All together in one place for the first time.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Tristan

  For once, I’m well rested. If I dreamt last night, I don’t remember. The Resistance is situated so close to subchapter 1 that we’re able to walk there. I feel like I’m at the head of a cavalry, me and Ben and Roc and Elsey, marching out in front of a few hundred stomping boots. Vice President Morgan left hours earlier to prepare for the peace summit in her subchapter. Jinny’s here too, walking alongside Elsey, who is chatting with her like we’re not heading to the most important meeting that the Tri-Realms has seen in a hundred years or more.

  Naturally, my mind is on Adele. I wonder how she’ll look. The last time I saw her, on the screen, she looked confident and beautiful, but that was before someone tried to kill her. Why would Brody do that? All we know is he was a spy for my father, but why target Adele? Is it because of who her parents are? Sort of a revenge for their efforts at resisting his rule? Or does he know what she means to me? Is he taking another shot at me? I remember his declaration from the presidential steps, when he was speaking to all traitors: …brought down like a hammer on you and those you care about. It felt like he was reaching through the telebox then, grabbing me by the collar and speaking those words directly to me. If he was targeting Adele because of me, he’ll surely try again. When she arrives I’ll stay by her side at all times just in case.

  “Eww, gross,” I hear Elsey say. It’s about as relaxed a comment as I’ve ever her heard make, and I turn to see what has prompted it.

  A bat lies twitching on the tunnel floor, injured, dying. For some reason I can’t take my eyes off of it. A sense of dread enters my heart—like the dying bat is an omen, a sign of things to come. Not for us in general, but for me personally. One of the Resistance soldiers strides forward and stomps on the winged rat, and when he lifts his boot again, it is still. Dead. An omen, perhaps.

  I look away and keep on walking. You make your own fate. My father’s words, and yet they help to calm my troubled mind. Adele cannot die. I won’t let her.

  “What are you thinking?” Roc asks.

  “Heavy stuff,” I say.

  “Thought so.”

  “Was it that obvious?”

  “Only to a friend,” he says, grinning.

  I smile back, glad that he’s here. “I’m worried my father will target Adele again, maybe as early as the peace summit.” I told Roc what had happened before we slept last night.

  “And Tawni, too?” he asks sharply, his brown eyes flitting back and forth like a caged animal. I keep forgetting he’s got a crush on Tawni.

  “I don’t think so,” I say. “I’m pretty sure she was just collateral damage. But if she’s near Adele when he goes after her, Tawni could be in danger too.”

  “We can’t let anything happen to either of them,” Roc says firmly.

  “We won’t,” I promise. “We won’t leave their sides.”

  * * *

  Less than an hour later we emerge from the tunnel and into subchapter 1. It’s weird being out of the mysterious catacombs of the Resistance and back in a proper city. The last time I was in a moon dweller city it was subchapter 26, and the city was crumbling beneath the weight of the star dweller attack. I’m not sure what I expected, but it’s not this. The city is untouched. Old and rundown, but not bombed, not full of smoking debris and rubble. Instead, it’s just as I remember it from my last annual contract negotiation trip. The Water City, they call it, because it’s literally built on an underground lake.

  Heavy, stone blocks emerge from the water—which appears black in the early light of dawn provided by the overhead cavern lights—like majestic ships. The blocks are separated by thin canals, which run horizontally and vertically throughout the subchapter, intersecting like streets on a grid. Arcing stone bridges connect the stone blocks, on which the city is built. Compared to some of the towering buildings in other Moon Realm subchapters, the houses and buildings are built relatively low, rising two or three stories at the most. There is one exception, however, the massive dome in the city center, standing out like a beacon and dwarfing the other structures. They say you can see the subchapter 1 dome from anywhere in the city. It’s code named the Big House—and is the site of the peace summit.

  “At least they left us this,” Ben says. My head jerks to look at him—I didn’t realize he’d come up beside me. At the question in my eyes, he says, “It’s the only subchapter the star dwellers didn’t bomb. It’s like they planned for us to meet here, almost wanted us to.”

  An eerie blast of cold air rushes through the enormous cavern and I shiver, both from the wind and from Ben’s words. They don’t give me comfort, not after everything that has happened.

  We leave the edge of the city and tramp across the first bridge. On the other side a long thin boat is waiting. It might hold six or seven people—certainly not five hundred Resistance soldiers.

  Ben shouts orders to a few of the soldiers behind us. Evidently they’ll be taking the route on foot, through the city. We, on the other hand, are getting a lift. “Hop in,” Ben says.

  Roc gives Elsey a hand and helps her into the gondola. “Thank you, kind sir,” she says, grinning.

  “Be careful not to rock the boat, my dear lady,” Roc mimics with his nose in the air, making Elsey giggle.

  I follow my friends, sitting in front of them. The boat is so thin only one person can sit in each row. Ben and Jinny follow, and Ram stands in the center position, carrying an extraordinarily long stick, which he promptly uses to push off from the depths below. We shoot forward and I watch his technique as he shoves the staff hard into the water in front of us, lifting his body slightly to gain leverage before propelling us forward. He repeats this again and again, moving us swiftly toward our destination.

  While the rest of the group are forced to twist and turn and cross dozens of bridg
es, we sail straight under them, reaching the city center in about ten minutes. Although I’ve seen what the locals simply call “the Dome” a half-dozen times before, I’m still not prepared for it as it looms up in front of us. The curved platelets that make up its exterior are a thin, shiny metal that manage to reflect even the dim light afforded to the subchapter, making the Dome appear bright and sparkling. From our vantage point in the canal, the result is dazzling, and I shield my eyes slightly with one hand.

  We dock at a short platform and disembark, and strangely the gleam of the Dome dulls more and more the closer we get. The five or six sets of steps up to the entrance vanish beneath our feet in a blur. It’s like just the sight of the Dome has given us a boost of energy, making our steps quick and light.

  The inside of the Dome is just what you would expect from the outside. The massive stone roof curls upwards above us, reaches its apex, and then wraps back down, forming a semicircle that reminds me of half an orange, like my mom used to cut off the trees for Roc and me when we were little. Rows of steps wrap around the edges of the Dome, starting at the top and working their way down to the circular podium in the center. The space could easily seat fifty thousand people.

  But today, there will be few. The forty-two moon dweller VPs; the leaders of the Resistance, like Ben and Jinny and Jonas and Maia and Ram; then there’s me and Roc and Elsey and hopefully Adele and Tawni and Adele’s mom—Anna, I remember—all surrounded by a few hundred Resistance soldiers providing protection for the whole event.

  Already the VPs are milling around the center, shaking hands, talking and laughing as if this is just like any other gathering of Moon Realm leadership. You would never guess that the conclusion of the meeting could thrust the Realm into civil war, or worse.

  As I’m still taking it all in, the Resistance soldiers arrive, pouring through the various entrances along the sides. They must have run to have made it here so fast.

  “C’mon,” Ben says, tugging me at the elbow. “We should get out of the way.”

  I resist, jerking my arm away. “But what about Adele? We need to be here when she arrives.”

  Ben looks at me with understanding eyes. “We will be here. Just below, in the private chambers. My men all know to send them down the moment they get here.”

  I look at Roc and he shrugs. “Okay,” I say, moving to follow Ben.

  We descend the steps as if we’re going to join the VPs in the center platform, but then cut through an entrance to the seating area, tunneling beneath them. I know from my previous visits that there are dozens of rooms beneath the seats, where less public meetings are held amongst the politicians. It’s dark, even though the lights are on, and I’m reminded of one of the more mundane reasons we’re doing all this: My father refuses to provide adequate power to the lower Realms.

  Not far down the hallway I can hear the murmur of soft voices. Soft orange light spills out into the tunnel. We make for the room—Ben enters first. “Vice President Morgan,” he says.

  “Hello, Ben,” I hear her say.

  We enter the space and I’m surprised to find a well-lit room with plush couches running along all four walls. There are only a handful of other people occupying them, including Morgan. I recognize them as a few of the other VPs who support the Resistance. They stare at us, hovering against the wall.

  “Do you mind if my daughter joins us?” Ben asks politely.

  “Of course,” Morgan says. “I understand that you’ll want to keep her close by your side during a time such as this.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Have a seat, everyone. We were just discussing the peace summit. Tristan, I’m glad to see you’re here.”

  “I’m glad to be here,” I hear my voice say automatically, but I’m not really thinking about my words. I’m thinking about how Ben is keeping Elsey close to him. He thinks something bad could happen. I’ve got to find Adele.

  We sit down across from the other VPs and perpendicular to Morgan. “What’s the situation?” Ben asks. “Do you have a sense of where the majority lies?”

  Morgan shakes her head, but not because the answer is no. “We’re still stuck at eighteen, Ben. Unless something changes drastically today, we’re not going to get a majority for the cause.”

  Ben frowns, stares at the ceiling for a moment. I shift awkwardly in my chair. “Here’s what we have to do. I’ll speak to as many of the opposing VPs individually before the summit, see if I can sway them; I still have a few friends in high places,” he says, winking at me. “Then we will start the conference with a speech from Tristan to do the right thing, to support an honorable cause, that sort of thing.”

  “But they haven’t listened to me before,” I blurt out. “Why now?” At that moment I feel a familiar buzzing along my scalp, and I gasp, but no one seems to notice.

  “It’s a one-two punch. They trust me a hell of a lot more than you, so if I set them up for your speech, it might change their reaction. If we’re lucky we might grab the majority right from under their noses.” Yeah, we’d have to get pretty lucky, I think, massaging my head as it continues to tingle.

  “I don’t know…” Morgan murmurs.

  Before she can continue her thought, the door bursts open and Ram barges in. “I’m very sorry to interrupt,” he says, “but they’re here.”

  I freeze. They? As in, her? I’m on my feet in an instant, my chest buzzing with excitement, my mind racing, feeling more adrenaline than if I was in a swordfight. She’s here!

  I barely hear Ben say, “Just please set up the meetings, Morgan,” before he sprints from the room, with me right behind him.

  “They’re in the first room to the right!” Ram growls after us.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Adele

  The train ride was long and I didn’t get nearly as much sleep as I would have liked, but still I feel wired. I’ve never been to the Water City before, and I’m taken by its beauty. And the Dome, which we’ve just entered, is the most beautiful of all.

  I’m shocked by the buzz of activity inside. Men and woman are moving frantically about, dressed in dark-colored jumpsuits, some brown, some black, some gray. They’re not uniforms, because, well, they’re not uniform, but they look somewhat coordinated, like they’re all on the same side.

  The moment we enter I feel a shiver down my spine, although I’m not cold.

  “The Resistance is here,” my mom explains.

  “What do we do?” I ask.

  “Look for your father.”

  Dad! I think, as my head swivels through the crowd, trying to locate the grizzly man I left in subchapter 26.

  “Excuse me,” a woman says, approaching from the side, “do you need hel—” She stops suddenly, her eyes ablaze with recognition. “Ms. Rose?”

  “Yes?” my mother and I reply simultaneously.

  The woman looks back and forth between us. Initially her eyebrows lower in confusion, but then they slowly lift as understanding flows into her mind. “Anna and Adele,” she says.

  “And Tawni,” my friend says.

  “And Trevor,” Trevor jokes. “I’ll be down on the platform area making sure everything is ready.” He walks off.

  I laugh. “We’re all here,” I say. “Can you take us to my dad—I mean, to Ben Rose?”

  “Of course, of course. Right this way.”

  Shivers of excitement are rippling through my body as we follow the woman down some stairs, into a darkened hallway, through an archway and into a room. “Just a moment, wait here,” she says.

  There are three beds and two benches. Tawni and my mother sit next to each other on one of the benches, facing the still-open door. I remain on my feet, unable to sit for fear that the energy coursing through me will be stifled.

  A minute passes slowly. Then another.

  Then he’s there, the man from my childhood. Not the unkempt, unshaven, bloodied fighter from before, but the clean-cut, handsome man who raised me. I rush to him, but I’m too late. My mom is
already in his arms, clutching him to her like releasing him would mean death for all of us. Over her shoulder his eyes are closed, his chin buried in her neck. I feel tears well up in my eyes.

  As if by magic, Elsey appears at their side, hugging them both around the waist. My mom’s arm curls around her and she says, “Oh, El. Sweet El.”

  The tears are bubbling up faster than I can blink them away. My mom’s other arm reaches back blindly, beckons me into the fold. Two steps and I’m there, surrounded by the warmth of the family I love, the family who’s been ripped apart, convicted, abused, battered—but not beaten. Never beaten.

  And then, abruptly, the tears stop. I’m complete again so there’s no need to cry. My body recognizes right away what my mind takes a few more seconds to understand. I’m home. Not at our puny house in subchapter 14, but in the place where home really lives. In the love of my family.

  I pull away to see smiling faces, a circle of strength, of goodness, arms around each other protectively. I’ll never lose these people again.

  Someone clears their throat behind me. I strain my head backwards and my eyes lock on him, just like they did they first time, with the power of rock crushers, and bulldozers, and lava flows. In this moment, Tristan’s dark blue eyes are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life. Perhaps it’s just crazy hormones, or the emotion of the reunion with my family, or some force greater than any of that, but I feel a physical pull and I rush to him, slam into his chest, wrap my arms around his torso—feeling muscle and bone and strength—in his body and in mine.

  His face is surprised, and I know I’m not acting like the timid girl who was scared to hold his hand from before. Because I’m not. I’ve stared down death in the barrel of a gun in my face. There are only so many moments in one’s life, and then it’s over. And I’m determined to make the most of every moment from here on out.