Bringing Stella Home

by Joe Vasicek

  “Thanks,” said Stella. She didn’t want to know whether that was a good thing.

  Tamu parted the bead curtain door and stepped outside. Still holding it open, she turned to face Stella with a hand on her hip.

  “Well, honey, are you going to stand there staring all day, or are you going to let me show you around?”

  “Oh,” said Stella, quickly stepping through. Tamu fell in step with her, and together, they walked side by side down the corridor.

  “The decor here might be a little different than what you’re used to,” said Tamu, gesturing to the kitschy silk hangings, “but it grows on you. Hi, Erdene.”

  “Hello, Tamu,” said a young, black-haired woman in a translucent green dress. She stopped in front of them. “Who’s the new girl?”

  “Name’s Sholpan. She’s my new roomie.”

  “So I gathered.” She smiled at Stella, who barely managed to return it.

  “Girl’s seventeen. Can you believe it?”

  Erdene’s jaw dropped. “No! So young?”

  “I know. Doesn’t she look mature for her age?”

  Stella squirmed a little. She didn’t like how they were talking about her as if she were an object.

  “Indeed, she does.”

  “One thing you’ve got to say about the Hameji, they sure have an eye for beauty.”

  “I know.” Erdene turned to Tamu and smiled again. “Well, I must be off.”

  “You’re looking lovely today, darling,” said Tamu, apparently in parting. She slipped her arm into Stella’s as they continued the tour.

  “The facilities are in there,” she said, pointing to a bead curtain doorway on the left.

  “Facilities?” As if in answer, the sound of flushing toilets and running water came from the other side.

  “The servants around here would probably wipe your ass if you asked them to,” Tamu continued, “but some things we can take care of ourselves, eh?”

  Tamu roared with laughter at her own joke. Stella laughed along too, more out of courtesy than anything else.

  “This is the servant’s hallway,” said Tamu, pausing to open another bead curtain and show Stella the other side. The space was long, white, narrow, and completely devoid of silk hangings and golden tassels. Instead, a long counter lined one wall, complete with gray plasteel cabinets above and below. Almost a dozen white-smocked servants milled about, busy at their work. The smell of something sweet met Stella’s nose.

  “Are those food processors?” Stella asked.

  “Processors? No, darling,” said Tamu. “The Hameji synthesize all our food from some kind of chemical goop. It’s tasty enough to live off of, but believe me dear, it gets bland fast. Real fast.” She stopped abruptly. “Why? Are you hungry?”

  “No,” said Stella. She was still much too anxious to have an appetite.

  “Suit yourself, then.”

  Tamu led her through an open doorway offset with heavy drapes and into a corridor much wider than the first. They passed several servants and a couple more women, both in fluffy bathrobes like Tamu’s, though theirs were pink. Tamu greeted the women as they passed, but didn’t slow down to chat.

  “And here,” she said, leading Stella through yet another bead curtain doorway, “is the lounge.”

  Stella took one step inside and froze where she stood.

  Dozens of young, beautiful women lay sprawled out across the room on couches and piles of cushions. Some chatted in small groups, others played board games, while still others sat about idly chewing on nuts and fruit from ornate glass bowls on small end-tables. A thick, pungent smell issued from an enormous hookah in the opposite corner. Several women had clustered around the smoking device, their glassy eyes and vacant expressions evidence that they were all hopelessly drugged out.

  Stella mentally counted the women—thirty-three in total. Thirty-five counting herself and Tamu.

  “Honey, your cheeks are pure white,” said Tamu. “Is something the matter?”

  “These women,” Stella asked, “are they—are they all Qasar’s—”

  “Concubines? Why, of course.”

  Stella swallowed. “How many concubines does Qasar have?”

  Tamu paused to think. “Well, with the new additions to the harem since the last battle, almost eighty.”

  Stella’s jaw dropped. “Eighty?”

  “Of course, dear. How many did you expect him to have? Qasar is one of the Hameji’s top generals.”

  Stella slowly turned to face the room. The women around the hookah stared back at her, their eyes completely vacant

  “So—so many of them,” she stuttered.

  Tamu laughed. “Too true, dear. Though when you meet him, you’ll soon see why.”

  She winked in a knowing way that made Stella shudder.

  Chapter 6

  Exactly three standard weeks after the fall of Kardunash IV, Adam and James McCoy arrived home at the Colony.

  “There she is,” said his father as they approached within visual range. “What a sight for sore eyes.”

  “Yeah,” said James.

  Nestled among the numerous Trojan asteroids trailing the third planet, the small, disk-shaped space station was like an oasis in the void. Through the vacuum of space, James clearly made out the white buildings and green parkways that he knew so well, even from a distance. The two docking arms jutted out horizontally along the plane of the disk, marking the poles around which the station made its diurnal revolutions like a coin on a tabletop. Around these arms, a dozen starships shimmered in the light of the sun, speckles of gold against the ebony backdrop of space.

  The sight reminded James of his first voyage away from his beloved home—and the powerful emotions of the subsequent homecoming. He had been barely five years old at the time, and though the family vacation had only lasted a month, to his childish sensibilities it had felt like an eternity. Nothing had been able to cure him of his homesickness. Only when he finally saw the Colony through the forward window—as he saw it now—did he feel comforted.

  Immediately adjacent to the Colony, though, James spotted a ship much larger than any of the others. From this distance, it could have been a deep space passenger liner or interstellar merchant ship, but James knew better.

  The ship was a Hameji battle cruiser.

  James stared at the Hameji ship with all the pent-up fury of the last twenty-one days. It was something that did not belong, an anomaly that should not exist—not in his one place of refuge. He clenched his fists and stared at it, as if by the fury of his gaze alone he could blast it out of the sky. Its presence in this place was an unforgivable intrusion—one to which he would never submit.

  “It’s a beautiful sight, isn’t it?” Adam remarked.

  For a split second, James thought his father was referring to the Hameji battle cruiser. His mind reeled with confusion and rage, but he soon recovered.

  “Yeah,” he said, his voice small. His father put an arm on his shoulder.

  “It’s good to be home.”

  It’s not the same without Ben and Stella, James wanted to scream. Instead, he kept silent.

  Somewhere, on a battle cruiser much like that one, his brother and sister were probably languishing as prisoners. If they were still alive, it didn’t matter where they were—he would find them and get them back.

  * * * * *

  Ben had lost the desire to do anything.

  He sat in the corner of his gray, featureless cell, staring at the smooth, metal floor for hours on end. His captors had given him clothes a few days ago: drab, loose fitting clothes full of stains and the smell of bleach. Ben knew he should worry about the stains, but it no longer mattered to him. Nothing did.

  Only the memory of the mock execution had any power to move him. In his mind’s eye, he watched over and over as the woman drifted out the open airlock like a frozen marionette. Her skin was sickly pale blue, her expression as empty as the void between the stars. He closed his eyes to escape the image, but the wom
an’s face and body became Stella’s. She drifted slowly away from him, mouth open from her last gasps of breath, her cheeks bloated from the depressurization, her corpse wrinkled like a popped balloon.

  Ben screamed and banged his head against the wall until blood began to flow from his forehead. Only the pain could dispel his waking nightmare. He returned to the floor, but the vision of his dead sister left him with an awful emptiness in his heart—a void that swallowed all feeling. He couldn’t save her; not from the Hameji. They had all power in this place.

  His meals came regularly now through a small hole in the wall, a tasteless gray goop that he barely touched. Though his body grew frail and weak from lack of food, he no longer cared. What was the point? Hunger was just another pain that kept the nightmares away, and what did it matter if he starved to death?

  But the Hameji didn’t let him die. Instead, they came for him again.

  The door to his cell opened, and soldiers lifted him to his feet and marched him out into the corridor. He joined a group of other prisoners and together they marched down the hall. Their stares were as blank and utterly devoid of emotion as he thought his must be.

  The Hameji herded them down the dark corridor through an airlock to another ship—or perhaps a station. The walls here were pocked with age and corrosion, the floor worn smooth by countless years of traffic. The air was dusty and tasted slightly metallic, reminding Ben of the main smelter back home. As he followed the soldiers deeper into the complex, his footsteps became noticeably lighter, no doubt due to the weaker artificial gravity field.

  In less than a minute, they arrived in a large, circular chamber. The soldiers moved Ben and the other prisoners into rows, much as they had when they’d first arrived at the prisoner ship. Ben stood where they placed him and stared straight ahead. A small part of him feared that this was the end—but the larger part stood ready to welcome it if it was.

  About a dozen men in orange jumpsuits entered the room. Under the watchful eye of the soldiers, they went from prisoner to prisoner, connecting large black devices to their ankles.

  Gravity anchors, Ben realized. For low gravity operations like asteroid mining. So the Hameji had tortured and broken them only to send them to a labor camp. It didn’t make any sense, but what did anymore?

  As the men went down the line, Ben’s eyes wandered upward. The ceiling took the shape of a flattened dome with narrow window panes radiating outward from the center. From where he stood, the field of view was wide enough that the starfield was clearly visible.

  Out of habit, Ben searched the stars for the familiar constellations of his home. At one time, he had known them all by heart. If they were anywhere near Karduna, chances were good that he’d recognize a few of them.

  He didn’t. The constellations in this place were utterly unfamiliar.

  Soon, the men came down his row and latched a pair of anchors to his feet. When the soldiers marched him off, his steps were heavy—heavier than he could remember.

  Not that it mattered, of course. Nothing mattered anymore.

  * * * * *

  James walked with stiff legs toward the departure gate of the Colony spaceport, each step an act of pure will. He had no idea what lay beyond those doors, and feared, more than anything else, what sight would meet him on the other side.

  “Adam?” came his mother’s voice from around the final corner. Chills raced down James’s arms; it felt as if years had passed since he’d last seen his mother.

  “Jessica!” his father shouted, breaking into a run. James struggled to keep up. In a few moments, they were through the last doorway and inside the main terminal.

  Or what was left of it.

  Garbage and debris lay scattered about the main walkway. The once magnificent mosaic in the center of the concourse lay broken and shattered, loose ceramic tiles piled like rubble. The air smelled faintly of smoke, while dark spots stained the floor and walls. A few people wound their way through the concourse, but the normally bustling terminal was emptier than James had ever seen it.

  “Adam!” his mother shrieked. Still running, his father threw his duffel bag to the floor and caught her in a tight embrace. With tears streaking down both their faces, they held on to each other as if their lives depended on it.

  James caught his breath and swallowed. His parents seemed more frail and vulnerable in that moment than he had ever seen them before.

  It profoundly disturbed him.

  “And James!” his mother cried, letting go of Adam long enough to sweep him up in her arms. She kissed him repeatedly on his cheeks and forehead, clinging to him as if to reassure herself that he was real, that he was still alive. His father joined them, and for several moments, they stood embracing each other as a reunited family.

  Not reunited, James thought to himself. Ben and Stella were still out there somewhere.

  At length, they released each other. James’s father picked up the duffel bag and fell into step with his wife, talking quickly as they made their way down the terminal.

  James followed a short distance behind, but was too busy staring at the scenery to pay any notice to their conversation. Several of the arrival and departure boards hung broken from the ceiling; one dangled precariously from a wire, suspended only a few feet above the floor. Those few that were still intact displayed a schedule that was remarkably sparse, especially considering how much traffic had once passed through this place.

  Outside the concourse, all the shops and stores were boarded up or smashed to pieces. Glass lay scattered about the ground, while several of the leafy trees lining the main avenue were turning brown and slowly dying. Inside the stores, the shelves were all empty, looted a long time ago. Eyes stared out at him from some of the windows, wide and afraid.

  James walked mechanically, unable to feel the ground beneath his feet. This wasn’t the home he knew. He felt as if he were trapped inside a dream, powerless to do anything but watch as he passed through it.

  “We were blessed, Adam,” his mother said. “They razed two of the moons at K-3—completely annihilated them. No survivors.”

  “I know, dear,” said his father. He wrapped his arm around her waist. “At least they spared us.”

  Spared us? James wanted to scream. Can’t you see what they’ve done?

  “When they first came,” his mother continued, “it was awful. The looting, the violence—the worst of it was here in the central district.”

  “It’s bad,” his father agreed, “but it’s nothing we can’t rebuild.”

  She glanced up at him and smiled. James bit his lip and drew in a sharp, frustrated breath.

  They walked past a few shops that were still open, though gray utility tape on the windows attested to the damage they’d sustained. Few people were out shopping, though. At the nearest corner, a security guard stood watch with an assault rifle in his hands.

  “Not all of the looting was from the Hameji,” his mother said, her voice soft and distant. “I’m sorry to say, but—”

  “Times like these bring out the worst in any society,” James’s father interrupted. “I trust the rabble-rousers have been contained by now.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then the worst is over. All we have to do is rebuild.”

  “No,” said James.

  His parents stopped and turned to face him. “What was that?” his father asked.

  “I said no,” said James, catching up to them. “That’s not all we have to do.”

  “But what else can we do?” James’s mother asked.

  James opened his mouth, but a sharp glance from his father immediately silenced him. They’d had this conversation already, and James didn’t want to hurt his mother by starting an argument.

  “James is just taking things a little hard,” his father said. “He’s still very young.”

  “You’re right,” said his mother. She let go of her husband and gave James a big hug. James did his best to swallow his growing anger.

  “At least thi
s crisis is bringing us together,” she said, smiling at them both. “I haven’t seen so much unity on the station since I was a little girl. People are looking out for each other now more than ever before.”

  Broken glass and plaster crunched beneath James’s boots as he shifted from foot to foot. With less than half of the shops and businesses still operating, the place felt more like a ghost town than the home he remembered.

  “You don’t know how good it is to have you back, dear,” his mother continued. “When we heard about Kardunash IV, we feared—”

  “Hush,” said his father. “We’re together now.”

  Like hell we are, James thought angrily to himself. Don’t Ben and Stella matter to you at all?

  “Don’t ever leave me!” Jessica sobbed suddenly. She wrapped her arms around Adam and pulled him in tight.

  “I won’t, honey,” said Adam, rocking back and forth as he held her. “Neither of us will. Right, James?” He glanced over his shoulder and gave James a stern, meaningful look.

  James swallowed. “No,” he said. “I won’t leave you, Mother.”

  A deep sinking feeling nearly overwhelmed him, as if a hole had opened up in his chest. He numbly stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his parents. His movements felt empty, though—mechanical. Inside, he knew he was lying.

  Please forgive me, Mother. Forgive me for leaving. The thought made his eyes burn and his vision blur. It was enough of a performance to convince them of his sincerity, and that pained him all the more.

  * * * * *

  A little over a week after her arrival on the Hameji ship, Stella made her move.

  She waited until lights-out on the deck, when the halls were empty. With everything quiet and her roommate sound asleep, Stella slipped out of her bunk and crouched by the open doorway. Lying face down on the floor so as not to upset the beads, she crawled silently on her stomach into the hallway.

  Her breathing came in short, silent gasps as she crept along the wall toward the elevator. She passed only two intersections on her way there, and both were empty. Still, she had those guards at the upper level to worry about. The moment she stepped out of the elevator alone, they would stop her.