The Black Stars

by Dan Krokos

  Mason shrugged. “The Earth Space Command taught us to look on the bright side.”

  “This was just one,” Risperdel said, her voice full of awe. “Does this mean they’re already here? It has to.” She looked at each rhadjen, but they had no answers. “What does this mean?”

  “Look,” Lore said. “The human was … Sorry. Mason was right, I mean. Look at the Fangborn’s hands.”

  Now that it wasn’t moving and trying to kill them, it was clear the Fangborn had Rhadgast gloves underneath the skin.

  “How could it be somebody? And who is it?” Risperdel said.

  Po nudged it with the toe of his boot. The Fangborn twitched, and everyone took a step back.

  Mason looked at the school: there was no commotion, no sign anyone was coming for them.

  “So returning as heroes is out of the question,” Tom said. “If this is a rhadjen, we need to help him. But we need to do it quietly.”

  “Absolutely,” Po said.

  “No doubt,” Risperdel added.

  Mason faced the group again. “I think we can turn him back to normal, but you’ll have to trust me. Here’s the plan.”

  * * *

  Five minutes later they had a hover-cart to transport the Fangborn. It took all of them to lift the creature onto the cart. They pushed it toward the school, Po and Lore running ahead to make sure the way was clear. They got the Fangborn into the school (Po did some smooth talking and told the two guards he saw a student entering a banned area), and Mason realized that this plan was either really smart or really stupid. If the Fangborn woke up, he was betting it would be the latter.

  They guided the Fangborn into a supply closet.

  “Now what?” Tom said. “This thing is going to wake up, and then we’re toast.”

  Mason found plastic sheeting rolled up in the back of the closet. “Help me with this,” he said. Risperdel and Lore were quick to cover the Fangborn in plastic, which auto-sealed a moment later. The Fangborn was now shrink-wrapped under opaque plastic. But it still looked a little too much like a giant monster hidden beneath a tarp.

  “We need to change the shape,” Mason said. He looked around the closet for something to shove under the plastic, but everything was too large.

  Tom looked at each of them. “How … how do you expect we do that?”

  “You’re not going to like it,” Mason said.

  Tom threw his hands up. “No! Nope. Not going to happen.”

  “Not it,” Lore said, smirking.

  “Not it!” Risperdel followed with quickly.

  “Also not it,” Mason said.

  Tom swallowed. Then he lifted up the edge of the plastic and peered at the slumbering Fangborn within. “You have got to be kidding me.”

  “We’re running out of time,” Mason said. “It’s going to wake up.”

  “Next time, you’re cuddling with the monster, okay?”

  “Deal,” Mason said, though he was pretty sure this would be the only time.

  Tom crawled under the tarp and nestled into the space between the Fangborn’s legs and head. When they resealed the plastic, it looked like a bulky shape underneath, not something with arms and legs.

  “It’s going to get really hard to breathe pretty soon,” Tom said, his voice muffled by the cover.

  “You’ll be under there for a few minutes, tops,” Mason said. They pushed the cart out of the supply closet.

  “This thing really smells…” Tom said after a moment. “Like its breathing smells. Or maybe it’s just his face.”

  “Shhh,” Mason said. “You’re supposed to be an innocuous collection of inanimate objects. Or something like that.”

  They rounded the first corner toward the stairwells that would eventually lead to his mother and what he hoped would be a safe place to store the Fangborn until the cure was finished.

  But right then an alarm went off. Mason froze, and Tom shifted under the plastic. The Fangborn stirred as the alarm—an extremely loud WHOOP WHOOP WHOOP—got even louder.

  They were caught.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Students began to fill the hallways, all of them heading for an exit. And Mason was right in the middle of everyone, with a stolen hover-cart that contained his best friend and a monster.

  “Got any more bright ideas?” Lore said, flicking her double braid over her shoulder.

  “Um…” Mason replied.

  They stood there while the students flowed around them, a few giving the cart cursory looks. Mason hoped the hallway would clear again, and they’d be able to move forward and ignore the alarm.

  “I’ll check it out,” Po said, sprinting ahead.

  “What is that?” Mason whispered to Risperdel. “Is that a fire alarm?”

  Risperdel’s face was flushed violet. “Uh, no. I’ve never heard it before.”

  The hallway cleared out some, and Mason thought they were home free.

  But then Grubare strolled around the corner.

  Mason froze, then forced himself to keep pushing the cart forward. “Play it cool,” Mason said.

  “What does that mean?” Lore hissed, exasperated. “Is that like a human saying?”

  “It means act casual. Pretend we’re supposed to be here.”

  “We are supposed to be here,” Risperdel said, sounding genuinely confused.

  Grubare’s eyes narrowed when he spotted Mason and his team. He started walking toward them. The gromsh galloped along at his heels.

  “Stark,” he said. “What’s under the plastic?”

  “I’m not sure,” Mason said, not slowing down. “Broxnar asked for us to bring it to him.”

  “Hold it!” Grubare said. Mason stopped. The cart hovered in place. Risperdel and Lore were trying to figure out what to do with their hands. Down the hallway, Po rounded the corner and pulled up short.

  “Show me what’s under the tarp,” Grubare said.

  The gromsh plucked at the corner of the plastic with one paw, sniffing the air delicately, eyes closed. Then all four eyes snapped open, and it took a slow step backward, uttering a series of low chirps. Stupid monkey thing! Mason thought.

  “Sir, we were asked not to unseal it,” Mason replied. “You’ll have to get permission from Broxnar.”

  Grubare’s lip pulled back in a sneer. He looked down at the gromsh, which retreated behind the safety of Grubare’s robes the way a frightened child would. “Permission. Interesting. A rhadjen saying I require permission. Do you know the punishment for disobeying a direct order from an instructor?”

  “No,” Mason said.

  “A day in detention,” Risperdel said.

  “That’s correct. You would know, Risperdel.” Grubare turned his dark gaze onto Mason again. “You have one more second to change your mind, Stark. Or you’ll be coming with me to visit Master Zin.”

  “Sir, what’s the alarm for?” Risperdel said quickly. “Are we supposed to go somewhere?”

  Grubare gave Mason more than one second to choose, but Mason didn’t point that out. “It means two more students have gone missing. Their robes were found shredded.” He said this in a tone one would use to describe the weather. Mason wondered how the warmth had been driven out of Grubare’s heart, and if there had ever been any there to begin with. Mason couldn’t be sure, but he still suspected that Grubare kept him after class so Juneful and his friends could get Mason alone.

  Without warning, Grubare moved for the corner of the cart, his slender fingers reaching for the edge. Mason didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t attack Grubare. And he had no idea how the surly instructor would react upon seeing a human nestled in the arms of a Fangborn. Maybe he’d drop dead from shock.

  “What’s going on?” The voice came from the left. Mason turned, and his heart dropped further into his stomach. It was Broxnar.

  Grubare straightened. “Ah, Brox. These students were just on their way to deliver this cart of … whatever it is they’re delivering. I was curious about what they are transporting. It
must be very important for them to ignore the alarm.”

  This was it; they were done for.

  “Yes, that’s right,” Broxnar said.

  Mason fought hard to keep the surprise off his face. He made eye contact with Grubare, whose nose was now scrunched up. Mason had to close his mouth.

  “It is?” Grubare said.

  “Yes, thank you for checking on them.” Broxnar nodded to Mason. “You may proceed, young rhadjen.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Mason said. They each grabbed a part of the cart and began to push it forward.

  “Wait—” Grubare began, holding up a finger. A foot off the ground, the gromsh was doing the same thing, mimicking Grubare. Mason swallowed the urge to laugh.

  “Now now, Grubare, they have to deliver that, and then make it back to the Inner Chamber in time for the assembly.”

  Mason risked a final look over his shoulder: Grubare’s eyes were on him. He was still suspicious, so much so that Mason half expected him to give chase at any moment. But Broxnar put a large arm around Grubare’s shoulders and began to walk him away toward the Inner Chamber. The gromsh followed, the eye in the back of its head never leaving the cart.

  Mason didn’t know why Broxnar would lie for them, but he was incredibly grateful.

  “Why would he do that?” Risperdel said, echoing Mason’s thoughts. They were hurrying down the hallway, side by side. “That gromsh is going to be the end of us.”

  “Maybe he has a soft spot for humans,” Lore said.

  “Or finds us a little too fascinating,” Tom said. His voice was shaky. “How much longer?”

  “Not much,” Mason said. “Can you breathe?”

  “No,” Tom replied. “I mean, I can, but I don’t want to.”

  Po caught up to them as they neared the stairs that would lead them down to the secret lab.

  Mason stopped walking. “Here’s where we have to part ways. I’ll tell you everything later, but for now you have to trust me. There’s no time, and I have to do the next part on my own.”

  “Excuse me?” Lore said. “We just risked our butts helping you sneak a Fangborn—”

  “Shhh!” Po said.

  “Sorry, a Fangborn,” she said, much quieter, “into our school. You don’t even belong here.”

  “Mason and Tom earned their robes,” Po said. “They are Bloods, period.”

  “Even so,” Lore said. “Not so long ago we were enemies, and now you just want us to trust you?”

  Risperdel didn’t seem to have a problem with it.

  “Po?” Mason said.

  Po looked at each of them in turn. “I say we trust them. On the condition he fills us in later. There’s no time to argue anyway, like he said.”

  “Done,” Mason said. He held his hand out to shake, but the others didn’t seem to know what to do with it. After a second, Po made a fist for Mason to bump.

  Lore snorted in disgust, then stalked away. Just when I thought we were getting along.

  Risperdel leaned in. Her golden eyes were pale in this light, like crystal. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” she said, putting her hand on Mason’s arm.

  Mason tried to not look at her hand; he swore he could feel a dangerous charge from her gloves coursing up his arm. He swallowed. “I do.”

  Risperdel nodded, the charge fading as she removed her hand. She and Po followed after Lore.

  “Seriously.” Tom’s voice came from under the tarp. “Can’t breathe. Fangborn stinks. Want out.”

  “Hold on, buddy,” Mason said, swinging the cart through the door and down the stairs. “This is going to be weird. Just go with it.”

  “Oh, I can’t wait,” Tom said.

  Mason’s mother was in the lab, using the same mixing machine as before. This time, the central reservoir held a magenta solution, not golden.

  She spun around when Mason cleared his throat. “Mason! What are you doing here? We talked about this.”

  Mason still couldn’t believe he was looking at his mother. She was right there in front of him, alive. She was whole, not trillions and trillions of separate atoms, like he’d been led to believe. Even now he felt anger brewing in his stomach at the deception. All these years, what he knew had been a lie.

  “I didn’t know where else to go,” Mason said. He peeled back the plastic, and Tom tumbled out onto the floor.

  “Hello,” April said. “Who is this?”

  Mason peeled back the plastic a little more.

  “Great Mountain,” his mother cursed. “Where—? How—?”

  “It attacked us in the woods outside the school. Two more students have gone missing.”

  His mother was staring at the slumbering Fangborn, her eyes wide. Tom picked himself up off the floor and dusted his robes. “Hi, Mrs. Stark,” he said. “Tom Renner, pleased to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” April said.

  Mason waved his hand. “Mom! How could this be happening?”

  “I … I don’t know. Yet. Someone is obviously changing students. But how? Why?” She asked herself the last two questions. “There hasn’t been another breakout—I know for a fact.”

  “Well how close are you to the cure? Where is your team? I don’t want to hand this one over to the school if we can save him. Who knows what they’d do.”

  “No, you did the right thing.” Mom pushed the cart over to the glass wall. The Fangborn within were hiding in the darkness. She ignored the question about her team, Mason noticed. Did she even have a team?

  “Mom, I had to tell someone. I … may have already told Susan.”

  April Stark turned around. “Did she—? Was she—?”

  “She was angry,” Mason said. “But she hid it well, as always.”

  “Mason, I’m so sorry.”

  “I know you’re sorry,” Mason said. “You’ve said that more than once.” He was sick of hearing it. It didn’t change anything.

  Tom shifted from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable. “We should get back, Mason. Before Grubare decides to keep digging.”

  Mason nodded. “Mom?” Saying the word out loud still felt weird. He wondered how long it would take to feel normal. If it ever would again.

  “Go,” she said. “I’ll contain this one until the cure is ready.”

  April Stark wheeled the cart through a doorway, leaving them alone. She didn’t look back, her mind already on the task at hand.

  Mason’s eyes immediately went to the glass wall. The Fangborn were there, just beyond the line of darkness. He could feel them watching. He made sure to stare into the darkness and not flinch, to not show an ounce of fear. Then he and Tom left the lab behind.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Master Zin sat still as a statue at the head of the Inner Chamber. His eyes were not on the students; he appeared deep in thought. The whole room was filled, like it had been upon Mason’s and Tom’s arrival. The two humans sat in the back with their team—Po had saved them seats. The students were chatting idly, exchanging false rumors and coming up with new ones. Something was happening, that much was clear. The instructors had done their best to quash any rumors surrounding Jiric’s absence, but now they couldn’t hide the fact that students were disappearing.

  Mason and Tom got more than a few suspicious looks; it was no secret things had been normal (or at least, relatively normal, since this was a school for alien space wizards) before the humans had arrived here to learn and train.

  “We have failed at protecting you,” Master Zin said, and every voice in the chamber dropped away to silence.

  He stood up from his chair and opened his arms. “We have failed at protecting the students of this school, and for that I am sorry.”

  The assembly erupted in chatter, everyone looking at everyone else for answers. Master Zin raised his hands. “Please. Please. I ask for your patience.”

  Slowly, the room quieted.

  “Someone in this school is infecting students with Fangborn venom. This venom, once administered, scrubs away the gen
etic parts of you that make you Tremist.” Somehow, Master Zin found Mason and Tom in the back. His eyes rested on them. “Or human. It turns you into one of them. Jiric was turned into one of them.”

  Mason could see the expressions on the instructors standing around the border of the room. Some of them seemed shocked that Master Zin admitted the truth, and some of them seemed shocked by the actual truth.

  More chatter. A student stood up. “Where is Jiric now? Can he be saved?”

  “We’re working on a solution for that. Right now, Jiric is alive,” Master Zin said, as rhadjen began to murmur. Master Zin did his boot-stomp thing, ruffling the hair of everyone and getting the silence he’d asked for. “Listen carefully. There will be no more roaming the school by yourself. You will have a partner at all times. You will travel in groups as large as possible, with a minimum of two.”

  Lore stood up. Mason was not surprised. “But who is suspected of being behind this? A student? Or…” She looked around, not daring to accuse any of the teachers.

  Mason felt a presence watching him, and when he turned his head, he saw Reckful standing next to Grubare. Mason couldn’t read his expression.

  Master Zin waited a long time before answering. “I don’t know. Until we find out, things will continue as normal, or as close to normal as possible. You are dismissed. Tonight’s free-for-all has been canceled, and all future matches are as well. For now.”

  “Sir.” The first student who had spoken, a younger boy, stood up again. “You haven’t told us who is missing in addition to Jiric.”

  Master Zin swallowed; Mason noticed all the way across the room. “Juneful and his friend, Dakor.”

  Mason’s mouth dropped open. He’d been right: the Fangborn had looked familiar. It was Juneful. He’d helped sneak Juneful into his mom’s lab. Would he have done the same thing knowing who the monster really was? Talk about an improvement of character, Mason thought, then immediately felt guilty. Juneful might be terrible, but no one deserved to be turned into a monster. Or at least not forever.

  Five days passed. Mason spent every free moment in the library, fruitlessly searching for a clue that would allow him to open the door to Aramore’s tomb (he only saw Calora twice, and when he did, she was helping other students). And then, on the evening of day five, another student went missing. It was a young girl named Keliandra, who nobody seemed to know very well. Her robes had been found, shredded. There was a rumor that two students had seen her roaming the hallways in Fangborn form, and they’d been so scared by the sighting that the medical staff sent them home.