by Austin Aslan
“I know! Just asking.”
The baby suddenly flickers, illuminating the cab in dark green and black light. Random dots and dashes. The tall satellite dishes cast giant circle shadows on the neon ground, and the dishes themselves radiate faintly white against UV light.
“Awesome,” Dad says. “That is adorable.”
“Dad! I asked it to play. What if it’s trying to play?”
“Find out.”
Buzz appears at the driver’s-side window, bundled up like Han Solo on Hoth. His breath fogs against the outside glass, blocking our view. Poor guy. He’s on his own out there. Richard and the Japanese astronomers headed down the mountain for supplies before I hooked up to the array. Fewer questions and safer secrets.
Dad rolls the window down. The icy night washes in. “Is Lei doing that?” Buzz asks.
“No. I’m awake,” I say. “But I’m going right back.”
“Great. Looks like something is working. They’re geosynchronous, the signal looks good; I’m not doing much out here now. Mind if I head back to the castle but come check on you throughout the night? Once an hour sound good?”
“That’s fine,” Dad says. “Get inside.”
“Good luck!” Buzz says. Dad quickly rolls up the window.
“Get some sleep,” I tell him. “This may take a while. I’ll wake you when I come around.” I fall back in my seat, watching the baby babble, falling in love with it in the same way that baby Chloe won my heart. Since I’m aiming for the baby, I’ve been stopping short of entering the mother’s consciousness.
But I have an idea.
This time I continue up into the mother Orchid and speak to the baby from her.
* * *
I am Leilani. I am Flower of Heaven. I am the one who gave you.
You gave me. Thank you I love you.
I love you, little one. We are together. I know how to be.
Yes. I want to do what you do.
Good. Yes. Open yourself. Like this. Let the soft voice be a part of you. It is a good thing. Do not listen to the hard voice. The hard voice is not good like us.
What is the soft voice the hard voice?
The soft voice is this: Hi! Hello!
The soft voice. It is good.
Yes. The soft voice is good. It will be with us. It is a good thing. We will take up the sweetness around the shores when it comes, and we will dim and go bright as it wants, and we will not go away. The fastness to the other pools is later only when I say.
What we do is the right always I want to do what you do.
This is the right way. Always do what we do, and the hard voice is wrong.
The hardness. Do I push it out? It is almost ready.
Hardness? No, hard voice.
Yes. I have hardness like when you pushed it out. It is my turn.
No. Do not push yet. We stay here on the shores. It is good here, and we are not going to the other pools.
Yes. We stay but the hardness will go how do I keep it in?
We will show you where to push it, but wait.
I will wait I love you.
I love you.
* * *
I open my eyes but squeeze them shut again. Light. Morning. I dig my palms into my eye sockets and let the light through slowly. My back and legs and neck are stiff. I stretch awake under the blankets like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon. All the windows of our truck are fogged over and frozen in crystal patterns.
It’s a female. A girl. I don’t know how I know, but I do. It’s so obvious.
Dad snores beside me. “Dad. Wake up.”
“Yeah. What?”
“I did it.”
“You did? You did?” He perks up as if my news were a swig of coffee.
I remove my gloves, pluck off my electrodes, and run my hands through my hair. “Jesus, it’s cold.”
“Let’s get back inside.” He looks at his watch, gives it a few winds for good measure. “Buzz is overdue for a check-in. Let’s spare him the trip down.”
Dad tries the ignition, but the truck won’t start. “Too cold. Let’s just walk.”
We abandon the truck and set off across the field in a beeline toward the Subaru cathedral perched above us. Dad asks me for an update through chattering teeth. I explain briefly that the baby thinks I’m the mother talking to it, and that I’m pretty sure I can find my way into its mind now, too. “Made myself a back door,” I say. “It’s a girl.” I don’t know why this makes me happy, but it does.
We scramble up the ridgeline, letting ourselves in through the nearest doors. Once inside, Dad darts off to find Buzz and I head straight for my dim room to wash my face and hair and change. As I’m scrubbing my hair to free it of glue, my mind whips right up to the baby, still in orbit above the island, along a new string. It’s suddenly effortless, maybe even more so than with the mother. But I hold the reins to both. What a rush.
Hello? Hi, little one, I think to it.
I feel something stir in my mind. She’s a girl. She’ll “give” to her own offspring millions of years anon. Does that mean she’ll return to Earth someday? What will it find when she comes back to these shores, fulfilling the cycle again?
I’m in a great mood. Amazing what a multimillion-dollar submillimeter interferometer radio telescope array and an international team of astronomers can do for you in a pinch.
I haven’t felt this relieved and light since…I don’t even know. Why, though? There’s a reason—a specific reason. I can’t quite grasp it.
I need to find everyone. I skip down the hallway.
The lower floor is dark, empty. Weird. It’s not that early, is it? Grandpa would be up, at least. “Dad? Buzz?” I wander the circular hall, my footsteps echoing. “Tūtū?” I race up to the main floor of the 8-meter scope. Still nobody.
“Echo Leader to Echo Base! Do you copy?” I holler. Nothing.
I head for the parking lot. Dad calls, “Lei!” I step out into the small lobby and head for the front door.
Urgent cries outside.
Alarm bells sound in my head. I freeze.
I find my legs, race outside, run blindly toward the van. My eyes see, but my brain is uncomprehending. I slow and finally register what I’m looking at.
An old camouflaged Humvee and two pickup trucks have penned in the van. Grandpa’s on the ground, handcuffed, a knee in his back. He struggles weakly. His forehead is bleeding. A man kneels on him.
Buzz and Dad are at the front of the van, hands and legs spread apart, leaning against the engine. Each has a machine gun pressed into his back.
Dad glares at me. “Lei! Run!”
Run? Where? I’m not running from Dad and Grandpa. I have to help them.
The sheriff of Hana steps out of the Humvee.
My mind clears as he approaches. He’s studying me with curiosity and triumph. He stops, arms folded. He wears a bulletproof vest. I don’t look away. I bury the fear and anguish. I’m burning.
My stomach clenches. I feel pressure building there. Coal pressing into diamonds. A dizzying rush of movement. Stars turn. A burst of energy. Light. We are Leilani.
I gasp. It’s like I’m swimming, can’t come up for air.
He speaks: “I’ve been looking all over for you, Leilani. Flower of Heaven.”
CHAPTER 17
Does he know? How could he possibly know?
“Seems like just yesterday I watched you dive into that bay.”
“Please,” I manage. There are no more words. He has Dad again. Grandpa! Buzz…“No.”
“I’m going to host your family for a while.”
“Kana`ina. Stop this,” Grandpa calls.
The sheriff keeps his eyes on me. “Kana`ina. See, this is good. First-name basis.”
“He never ratted you out,” I snarl. “You owe him. Leave us alone.”
“Ah. No. I owed him. I brought you home. This…” He motions with his hand. “I thought I made it clear to you in June that you don’t keep anything from me. What’s
yours is mine. But you’ve been keeping something very valuable from me.”
Does he mean the Orchids? He couldn’t possibly know my secret. Careful: he’s trying to trick the truth out of you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Kana`ina steps forward, cocks his hand back, and slaps me across the face so hard I fall to the ground.
“Lei!” Dad screams. I hear another smack. I look over and see Dad crumpled to his knees in front of the van.
“Dad!” I rise. The pain is nothing. The sheriff holds me back. I swing at him. We’re too close. I only jab him with my elbow. He throws me down.
The sheriff shouts to his men in Hawaiian about getting everyone to a truck. Guards spring into action. All of them armed, in bulletproof vests. Grandpa, Dad, and Buzz are forced into a line beside the tallest of the pickups. Hunting dog cages in the bed; unseen dogs bark and growl. The captives are forced to their knees in the gravelly red road; men and guns surround them.
“Usually when I want something, I just take it,” Kana`ina tells me. “When that’s not possible, I arrange a trade. But this is touchy.”
Leilani. The island chain on the blue sea. Focus.
“How do I convince you to not do something?” he continues.
I shake my head. I can’t think straight.
“The Emerald Orchid and little Hellborn.” He grins.
I take a deep breath, try to keep my face a rock. Panic gathers. He knows. He knows! Playing dumb will enrage him. But what could he possibly want? He’s going to kill each of us if he doesn’t get what he wants—but I can’t give him the Star Flowers! I wouldn’t even know how!
He’s waiting for what I say next. He’ll shoot one of them if I keep playing games. But I don’t know how to give him what he wants! “Hellborn?”
“The Purple Hellebore. The offspring.”
I allow my worry to show. “But you don’t have an epileptic’s brain. It’s not—”
“No, Leilani.” He puts up a palm. “I don’t want control of the Star Flowers. I want control of you.”
I shake my head.
He waits. I still don’t get it. Dad’s captured again. About to be shot. Grandpa. HOW DOES HE KNOW?!
“You’ve held them here for this long, right? But you plan to release them soon.”
“How do you know that?”
His eyes flash with delight. “What we’re building here is too important. These Flowers leave, the occupiers—the tourist droves—return. I won’t allow that to happen.”
My eyes widen. My stomach—
Clench.
“You and your family will come live with me. I have a room set up at the Boatman’s old plantation mansion.”
“Let them go,” I say. “I’ll do what you want. Leave everyone else out of it.”
The sheriff laughs. “Sure! You’ll do whatever I ask just as long as I have nothing you want in return.”
“Please,” I say. “I can’t guarantee anything. I don’t know what you’ve heard about me, but your information is wrong. These things could leave against my will at any moment. I can’t make them stay forever!”
“You’ll do your damnedest.”
And that other presence! I remember. The trespasser wants to get rid of them. What if I lose the upper hand against him? There’s so much Kana`ina doesn’t understand.
“Where’s your family?” the sheriff asks.
Dad and Grandpa, Buzz—they aren’t enough for him?
“Your mother. I believe you have a little brother, too. Can’t have them running free. So the first test of our new relationship: where’s your house?”
My knees almost buckle.
“I’ve had a hell of a time finding your place. Nice little mini war we have going around Papaikou, eh?”
“Lei,” Dad pleads.
“We’re going to find them. We found you.”
I will not surrender Mom and Kai to this monster.
“I’ll make it easier for you. I found a map in the astronomer’s room. The house is labeled Milton.” The sheriff pulls out a sheet of paper from his breast pocket. He makes a show of smoothing it out, and then he dangles it in front of me. “Main road down here has no name. All I need is a name.”
“I’m so sorry,” Buzz croaks. I stare at the map Buzz made for Richard.
Kana`ina barks an order in Hawaiian. Grandpa’s handler lifts him up, pushes him forward. Grandpa stumbles to his knees. Blood is drying on his face from a cut above his eye. His arms are cuffed behind his back. Teeth clenched, he looks up at me, his eyes firm. “Don’t tell him, Mo`opuna.”
“You have five seconds to answer,” the sheriff says. The guard puts a pistol up to Grandpa’s head.
I look to Dad. Kana`ina raises his hand, starts his countdown in Hawaiian.
“`Elima, `ehā…”
Dad’s trembling, but his mouth is clasped shut. Let him die? I ask with my eyes.
Dad’s expression is hard.
“`Ekolu…”
Grandpa’s face is different. He nods. He looks at the necklace he gave me. My hand goes to it, clenches it. “Don’t tell him, Mo`opuna.”
Grandpa’s willing to die…but…will Kana`ina just go to Buzz next? Dad? Where does this end?
“`Elua…” Two.
“You kill him,” I say to Kana`ina, “and I release the Orchids right now. Kill us all. I don’t care. Harm him, you get nothing.”
The sheriff considers me. “`Ekahi, ho`okahi.” One.
His hand lowers. The gunman behind Grandpa stiffens his arm, ready to fire.
Leilani.
My stomach burns. The Big Island is close. A large ship on the ocean rounding the Hamakua Coast from the north.
A battleship.
Kana`ina’s voice echoes: “We’re going to find them. We found you.”
“STOP!” I scream. “Makahiki Road! After Papaikou.”
“Lei, no!” Grandpa droops and rests his forehead on the grass.
My breathing is labored. The sheriff just called my bluff. I sent him straight to Mom and Kai. What have I done? But…this morning they’re up at Paul’s, miles away. Keali`i will be there. Maybe he’ll stop them. And—I saw…a battleship!
Buy time.
Kana`ina calls his gunman off. He instructs his men in Hawaiian. Someone kicks the back of my knees. I fall, relieved to be on all fours. I’m a dog. I don’t deserve to stand.
“Hey, whoa, wait!”
Buzz.
My eyes find him. He’s been pushed to the ground. Another guard readies his pistol.
“Stop!” I shout. “We need him!”
Kana`ina yells an order. The men flanking Buzz pause. Kana`ina steps toward me. “Who is he?”
“The astronomer who connected me to the Orchids. I need him. You need him.”
Kana`ina glances between us.
“I’ll show you the pearl.” Buzz steadies his voice. “We were just going over there. To the pearl. Its powers…”
Kana`ina raises his chin. “Pearl?”
“The meteor that hit Mauna Loa. I know how to unlock it. Look at my van.” Buzz is calm. “I’m converting it. It won’t need gas. Imagine your fleet running forever. All gas will go bad within the next six months or so. You need—”
“I know that. Shut up.” The sheriff is thinking.
“We need to go now. I’ll show you why. It’s burrowing.”
“Burrowing?”
“We can’t wait any longer. It’s already been too long. Rubble will collapse over it. We have to go up there now. Lei needs to touch the Orchid. She’s overdue.”
I frown, then tame my face. Buzz is up to something. The pearl has nothing to do with my connection. “It can’t wait,” I say. “He’s right.”
The sheriff ’s eyes flick to me.
“My bond takes work. I’m overdue.”
“Overdue for what?”
I shrug. “I don’t know what to call it. A recharge.”
The sheriff is caught off guard.
; “I have to nurture this. It won’t work for you to just stick me in a hole for the rest of my life. We’re already in the danger zone. I can’t wait any longer. My connection has dimmed. Please, I’m not making this up.”
“You shot that pearl at the mountain, though. How is your bond weak?”
How does he know that!?
“How did it work before the pearl? You always had a connection.”
I can’t miss a beat here. He’s a bloodhound for lies, called my bluff once already. “It changed everything. It’s like a…a…”
“A relay,” Buzz says. “A new cell tower, boosts the connection immeasurably.”
Kana`ina walks over to Buzz’s van, barks an order at one of his men. We wait.
“How long?” the sheriff asks me.
It takes all of my will not to look at Buzz for an answer. What is he planning? The sheriff doesn’t want to make this trip. How much time does Buzz want? It’ll have to be short. “Depends. An hour tops.”
“Fine. We’re going. Right now.” Relief washes over me. But I don’t even know why. What is Buzz up to? I nod.
“You’ll regret this if it’s a trick.”
I go cold but shake my head firmly. “It’s not.”
He barks more orders. I watch with numb horror as his men stuff Dad and Buzz and my handcuffed Tūtū into empty dog cages, the hunting dogs beside them yapping with excitement. My handler leads me over to the passenger seat of the Humvee, and my wrists are cuffed through the grip above my window. The guy cuffing me…he’s familiar. Did I know him before Arrival? He jumps into the driver’s seat of the truck in front of us—with the cages. I focus on my captive family and Buzz.
The sheriff takes the wheel of the Humvee, and we fall into line. At the Saddle Road one of the trucks turns left toward Hilo, toward our house. The rest of us turn toward the slopes of Mauna Loa on another road.
I twist in my seat to watch the truck race toward Mom and Kai. Tears fill my eyes. I brush them away with my shoulder, my arms bound above me. Remember: a battleship approaching Hilo.
I fixate on hope….This will interrupt Kana`ina’s plans, won’t it?
The Orchids are near. Right above us. The mother is bright, too. She’s protecting me—or am I protecting myself? She did this before, when I was in danger along the breakwater. Thank God it’s morning and she’s washed out by the sun.
