by R. C. Lewis
Two fingers up—our signal for the second option.
He talks, and I listen.
The summary isn’t good enough, so I have Dom dig into the full compilation. That takes time, especially since I can’t do much to help him filter it down to what I need. The records are sketchy and vague, and most of the best information comes from my family. Pieces creep together, so slowly, and I’m not sure whether it’s the lack of material or my checked brain that’s at fault.
Dom interrupts himself on our second day of digging. “Liddi, there’s a news-vid you may want to see.”
I nod. The break couldn’t hurt. I just hope it’s not about the laserball tournament standings.
A picture flashes onto the wallscreen. Police outside a residential building in the city.
“This is the home of Garrin Walker, who was formerly the assistant of Nevi Jantzen and has worked for Jantzen’s sons in an advisory capacity in recent years. Police found Walker’s body inside a few hours ago, an apparent suicide.”
My stomach clenches and the tightness in my throat triples. I hit the No icon, which Dom correctly interprets, stopping the vid. But it means more than that to me.
No.
Impossible.
Garrin can’t be dead.
The man who let me build block-towers by his desk, who helped my father every day, who got me away from the vid-cams and the mob when I ran to the city…he can’t be gone, too. My hand shakes over the touchscreen but the icons have blurred. I can’t see. I can’t breathe. He sent me a message yesterday, wanting to help.
No one offers help one day and commits suicide the next, do they?
Not someone who suspects Minali is up to something and still has a voice. She hasn’t killed my brothers yet, but if she’s killed Garrin just for nosing in, getting in her way…She says she can’t afford to kill me, but she can do worse. Saving the conduits is important, but she’s obsessed. And I know from a lifetime in vids that obsessed people are the scariest kind.
Walker-Man. I remember. I didn’t call Garrin that just because of his last name. It was because of something he often said to my father that made little-kid me think he was really interested in walking.
“Always take the next step before anyone catches the one before.”
I get it now. I can’t waste more time looking for information that probably doesn’t exist. I have to make the next move before Minali realizes the path I’m on. The bits I have will have to be enough to get me to Tarix. I’ll figure out the rest as I go. Hopefully.
She’s watching the house—I’m sure of it. From the media-casts, I know people are getting more and more desperate to catch a glimpse of me. Dom knows better than to mention interview requests and event invitations at this point, but I’m sure they’re clogging up my message queue. The new security measures are holding, but if any media-grubs break through, it’ll be reason enough for Minali to bring me back into the city. Especially if Garrin’s concern already has her worried about people going public or trying to help me, she’ll want to keep a closer watch.
Can’t have that—I need the woods. Fabin’s research said portals were more prevalent in natural areas, and when all I have to go on is “look really hard,” I need the best odds I can get.
Evening walks have been part of the routine since I was silenced. Even before that, it was common enough. Cams still don’t work on the grounds—I checked—so if Minali is watching, it’s with satellite imaging, and that doesn’t provide much detail.
If she’s watching, she won’t notice I’m carrying a small pack with some clothes, food and water, and a com-tablet.
When I walk out the back door, the fragrance of the night phlox is almost too much, reminding me of the night of the attack. My first instinct is to hold my breath, but instead I inhale deeply, letting other memories flood and flow. Playing tag or stickball, Vic lifting me so I could climb trees whose lowest limbs were still too high, Durant nagging him about using two hands, making doubly sure I wouldn’t fall.
I’ll get them out. I will. Somehow.
Luna Major is already well above the horizon, so visibility isn’t an issue. My only plan is to wander until I find a portal. It’s not much of a plan, especially given the vastness of the property, but it’s the best I’ve got.
Just as I’m wondering whether I should try up- or downriver, movement flashes in the corner of my eye. My first instinct is to duck and hide, but then I see what it was.
Fabin.
Every night I’ve walked the grounds, hoping to see one of them. Now, the night I need them most, here he is! Still faint and ghostly, but I don’t just see him. I hear him.
“Liddi, come on! This way.”
His voice is strange, weak and muffled like there’s a wall between us. But it’s my brother’s voice, and I’ve never heard anything so beautiful. I run toward him. He runs as well, making me follow.
He’s in such a hurry. A pulse of panic surges through me, alongside my adrenaline. I missed a piece. There can’t be vid-cams on the grounds, but there could be people. More mercenaries. More guns.
I run faster.
We head upriver to the old footbridge, but I lose Fabin in a tangle of trees on the other side. The panic hasn’t left me, but before I can pick a random direction to keep running, I spot Ciro ahead, beckoning to me.
Two of my brothers in short order. It can’t be a coincidence. They know something. I don’t know how, but they know.
This is going to work.
I follow Ciro, and he leads me along an unfamiliar path for several minutes before I lose him. The pattern continues as each of my brothers finds me and leads me in turn.
Durant is the last, but when I lose him, I don’t have to wonder where to go. A light filters through the trees ahead that definitely doesn’t come from either of the moons. It crackles, like light making sound. I come to the edge of a large meadow—larger than any clearing I’ve found in the woods—and see the source.
It’s an enormous knot of white-blue energy hovering in the middle of the meadow, twisting and snapping at itself. But it’s more than that. As I walk closer, I feel it. Not like the hair-raising tingle of an electric field. I felt that plenty of times in the workshop as my brothers fiddled with electricity. This is so much more, so much “other.” It’s like walking on a laser beam, like if this massive spark weren’t twisted so tight, holding itself together, it’d tear the entire world apart. More than the world. Tear space and time and thought and everything until there was nothing left whole.
My cells writhe in its presence.
I don’t understand how there haven’t been reports of anybody seeing one more recently, or why the old reports were so sketchy and vague. There’s nothing vague about something this terrifying. Every detail sears itself in my memory, whispering promises to haunt my nightmares forever.
The very real possibility of turning around and walking home presents itself. The part of me that doesn’t want to stand here looking at this vortex of destruction, contemplating stepping into it willingly, seriously considers that possibility. It’s not like it’s going to take long for Minali to notice I left. It might take some time to figure out I went to Tarix, but there are only so many Points, and they know my face on all of them. So not that long. More than likely, not long enough for me to accomplish anything useful. I could go home and forget it. Play along.
Pretend I didn’t even hear about Garrin’s death.
No, I can’t.
Every one of my brothers’ innovations started out as a long shot they took a chance on, then worked at until they succeeded. It’s my turn to take a chance. But at the same time, the portal evokes a bone-deep desire to run.
I drag my eyes away from the snapping, convulsing energy and see something else. My brothers are here. All of them, spaced along the edge of the clearing. I wish they’d come closer so I could hear their faint voices, so they could tell me what to do. But they don’t. If they won’t come to me, I’ll go to them.
One step toward Emil stops that idea. Even from a distance, I see how they all tense. Shake their heads. Then I notice something else. They’re not just standing on the perimeter; they’re moving along it. Not by walking. More like gliding, adding to the ghostlike effect of their appearance.
I turn back to the portal. Beneath the complex lashes of energy, the whole thing revolves slowly, in time with my brothers. They’re bound to it, under its control.
Or they’re controlling it, holding it in place long enough for me to use it. If that’s even possible. But something about the idea feels right.
If that’s what they’re doing, it can’t be easy. It could be why only one at a time could guide me, and only for a little while, until he had to get back to wrangling his “corner” of the vortex. And even all eight can’t do it forever.
I tighten the straps of my pack, fix my thoughts on Tarix, and run right at the whirling mass of energy.
The reports said travel by portal was uncomfortable.
The reports lied.
Fire freezes my skin. Air drowns my lungs. I’m torn apart by stitches piecing me together. Colors whirl in monochrome as the roar of silence fills my ears.
And pain. Pain is the one thing that makes sense.
I’m spinning and flying and sinking and dying and no matter how much I try to think about Tarix like I’m supposed to, I’m just not getting there. I’m getting nowhere. Or nowhere is getting me.
Amid the whirling madness, something else breaks through that makes sense. A hand on my arm. Another on my shoulder. And another.
My brothers, real and solid, surround me. Emil tucks me into his arms, shielding me from the assault. The others push and pull and carry us through the storm, Durant leading the way, then Luko and Vic, each one taking his turn. Waves of chaos beat against us, but my brothers are strong, taking the brunt of it and continuing forward.
We go for hours, or maybe time moves backward. No way to mark the duration except by counting the number of times Emil murmurs reassurances in my ear. That I’ll be okay, that I’ll make it and be safe and that he’s sorry-sorry-sorry, about Garrin, about being too late, about getting caught in Minali’s trap, they all are.
The others murmur, too, but it’s harder to understand. Vic saying it’s not a game because games have rules, and he would know because he’s played all the games and this isn’t one of them. Fabin reciting properties of conduit substrata but no-no-no that isn’t it, that’s not the answer. Marek trying to tell a joke because it’s his job to make me laugh, but it always turns out with me crying, only my tears are dry and cut into my skin. And the others, their words aren’t even words, just sounds, and it’s my fault, I’m not listening hard enough. If only I could listen, I would find the answer but I can’t-can’t-can’t.
My awareness begins to fade a few times, but when it does, energy seeps into me, returning focus. I’m not sure where the energy comes from. When it happens, my brothers’ grips loosen the tiniest bit. Like the energy comes from them.
A barrier stands in our way. I can’t see it, but I feel it, the same way I felt the power of the portal from a distance. Emil tightens his hold, the others move in closer, and we launch forward—what’s forward?—with a sudden burst of speed—speed measured against what?—to pound against it.
It’s the other side of the portal, and the answer is simple. If I keep hold of my brothers, we’ll come out the other side. All of us. They’ll be free.
The barrier resists, trying to push us back, but we push harder. I hold on to Emil with everything I’ve got.
My skull splinters.
My limbs disintegrate.
My grip slips.
Blood blinds and chokes me.
Then the ground, hard and rough and scratchy, is beneath me with enough force to knock the air from my lungs. I’m not sure where I got the air in the first place, but its abrupt departure, along with the tightness at my throat, keep me from making a noise.
I can’t move—it’s like my body’s forgotten how—except to turn my head and blink until my eyes regain focus.
Emil is still with me, but he’s the only one, and he’s back to ghostly not-quite-here form. He’s on his knees, gasping for breath. I tell my hand to reach for his, and the signals sort themselves out. Our fingers touch. I feel it, but not like inside the portal. More like the faint touch of a soap bubble, light and fragile.
“Be strong, Liddi,” he says. “We think you’ll be safe here. We hope. We’re trying to find some answers. Even when you can’t see us, we’ll keep an eye on you. Just…just be strong.”
I want to beg him to stay with me, to help me, but he fades from view. I’m alone again.
After taking a moment to gather my strength, I roll onto my back—it takes way more effort than it should, and isn’t comfortable at all with my pack in the way—and look to the night sky.
There are three moons.
My heart jumps to an anxious rhythm, drumming on my joints and sparking my brain to life. I run through all the Seven Points. Sampati and Erkir have two moons, while Yishu has just one. Pramadam, Tarix, and Neta don’t have any at all.
Banak has four. Maybe I went off-course, or my brothers thought Banak was more likely to help me than Tarix…though the idea of getting help from the center of the Seven Points’ military complex is more than a little intimidating. Officer Svarta’s face flashes in my eyes. I wonder how deep Minali’s connections to Banak run.
No, wait. Vic once sent me images of a trip to Banak when all four moons were in the sky. Two of them were rust-colored. One of these moons has the same silvery glow of Luna Major and Luna Minor. The other two both have a distinct bluish tinge.
I turn my head to the other side, away from where Emil was.
The portal hasn’t vanished, but it’s nothing like it was in the clearing. Just a tiny spark hovering peacefully between two crystal spires. Like it’s asleep, but the massive power, the capacity for insanity, it’s still there.
This portal is controlled. Known. Marked.
I have no idea where I am.
The tiny robot danced and waved at Liddi, making her laugh. She wanted to see what else it would do, but it turned the corner out of sight. So Liddi followed it to the next aisle of the store.
It walked on its hands, it sang a song with silly words, and it curled into a ball to roll between displays before springing back to full size. Everywhere it went, Liddi followed, until finally the routine was done and the robot went on standby. Bored, Liddi returned to the wallscreen display to ask her mother when they were leaving.
She wasn’t there.
Liddi looked around. Her mother wasn’t anywhere.
Panic seeped into her skin, bringing visions of a life where she never found her mother again, or her father or her brothers. Tears welled up, but Liddi wouldn’t let them fall. Her brothers always told her tears just wasted water her brain might need.
Just as she was about to waste tears anyway, Anton tore around the corner and stopped, out of breath.
“There you are! We’ve been looking everywhere. Don’t wander off, Liddi-Loo!”
He scooped her up, and she held tight to his neck. She realized her panic was silly, because she never had to be afraid of getting lost.
Her brothers would always find her.
THE PANIC ATTACK JOLTS a little strength into me, but not much. Enough to sit up, push myself to my feet, and immediately collapse again. My body can’t take it yet.
Maybe my brain is scrambled from the journey and I’ve gotten confused about the moons. Maybe I have a concussion and I’m not seeing what I think I’m seeing.
There will be an explanation. I will find it, and it will make sense. I lie there on the ground some more, trying to breathe, stay calm, think, gather strength. The breathing part works, at least.
Even if I don’t know what planet I’m on, I can figure out some things about where I am. It’s not like the woods at home. More like the prairie parts of Erkir. Luko and Vi
c took me on a visit there when I was nine. Grassy with trees here and there in the light of the moons. Nothing else resembling the crystal spires of the portal, not that I can see, anyway. More hills than Erkir. In fact, I seem to be in a large bowl made of hills.
A light comes over one of those, approaching fast.
I make another attempt to push myself up, but there’s nowhere to go. The nearest trees are too far and won’t provide much cover. Without being able to even sit up decently, there’s no way running is an option.
The light can’t be a hovercar—too small, and doesn’t move smoothly enough. It’s more like someone running with a handheld light, but doesn’t quite match that, either. The way it jerks and jostles isn’t right.
When the source arrives, I clamp my teeth down to keep from screaming. Unknown planet or not, the implant has a hyperdimensional transmitter, making distance a lot less of a factor. The continual pressure at my throat reminds me a signal could get through, triggering my brothers’ deaths if I speak. Still, the figure before me makes it difficult to stay silent.
It’s a person but not, like a genetic experiment gone wrong. Very wrong. The face is close, with the expressiveness and depth in the eyes to convey intelligence. But the details are off—four nostrils, an excessively prominent jaw, and a headful of shaggy brown hair that’s more like a mane of fur. The rest of the body is even worse. The arms are far too long and explain the jerkiness of the light strapped to his shoulder—he runs using his arms as well as his legs.
I don’t know what he is. I do know he’s angry. He shouts at me with a series of grunts and clicks. I scoot myself back on the grass, getting some distance between us even if it means getting closer to the portal.
His unnaturally long arms snap out and grab me, hauling me off the ground. This time it’s even harder not to cry out, because everything hurts and having my legs dangling in midair gives me vertigo and this strange person with too many teeth is still yelling things I can’t understand and I want it all to stop. I want to scream and wake myself up from this nightmare.
