Starswept

by Mary Fan

  Before I can ask what’s wrong, Atikéa walks into the room. “I’m glad you’re awake, Dámiul.” She approaches the table and motions for him to follow. “I have something you need to see. Actually, I have two things. Iris, you might want to see them too.” She glances at Milo. “You’re new, aren’t you?”

  “Yup.” Cara reenters, responding before Milo can. “Just brought him here.”

  “I see. You don’t have to stay for this,” Atikéa says to Milo. “You can if you want, but you probably won’t find it interesting.”

  Milo shrugs and grabs a chair. “I’ll stay.”

  I take the chair next to him, but keep my gaze on Dámiul. I’m glad to see that his eyes have regained their energy, but I wonder what the troubled look on his face means.

  Atikéa glances at the screen, and Cara takes a seat next to her. A hologram of Jaerin appears in the center of the table. Dámiul stares at it. The furrows between his brows deepen, and I realize what’s upsetting him. Of course, he’s worried about his brother.

  “Jaerin recorded this right before the prison break.” Atikéa glances at the screen again, and the hologram animates.

  “Tra’kel, dáven teris.” In the recording, Jaerin smiles sadly. I don’t need the subtitles to understand the words: “Hello, little brother.”

  Jaerin speaks in a measured voice. I can make out most of the words, but I read the subtitles anyway to make sure I don’t misunderstand him.

  “I know you’re upset with me, and I’m sorry I had to do things this way.” Jaerin sighs. “Please understand, this plan was the closest I could come to guaranteeing your safety. If I don’t remember anything from the past four years, there’s no way they can use me to find and arrest the underground members of the Abolition—or recapture you. You’re probably wondering why I would rescue you from a place that stole memories, only to suffer the same fate myself. The answer is simple: Because I love you, little brother.”

  The look on Jaerin’s face turns stern. “Whatever happens, do not try to make contact with me. It would be too much of a risk. Erasing four years of memories won’t change who I am. I’ll be confused for a period of time, but I’m sure I’ll eventually rediscover the cause and find the Abolition again on my own. Until then, I’m afraid I can’t help you anymore. Good luck, and when we meet again, I hope you can forgive me.”

  The hologram flickers out. Dámiul’s expression doesn’t change.

  Atikéa turns to him. “Jaerin left me a similar message. He’s not gone, Dámiul. Just absent.”

  Dámiul nods slowly. “Do you know where he is now?”

  “Yes. That’s the second thing I want to show you.” Atikéa narrows her eyes at the screen, and another hologram appears.

  Master Verik stands behind Jaerin and speaks firmly in Adryil. Beside him, Jaerin looks from side to side, as though puzzled by everything around him. I read the captions to see what Master Verik is saying.

  “I am appalled by what happened at the reeducation center a few nights ago.” He places his hand on Jaerin’s shoulder. “However, my son is not to be blamed for the actions of others. As evidenced by the implants discovered in his head after he was found wandering the facility in a dazed state, he was never a part of the criminal group that broke Dámiul out. They used technology meant to reeducate the criminally minded to control him, and then wiped his memory so he wouldn’t be able to name his attackers. I’m sure the courts will come to the same conclusion. As for Dámiul—I’m ashamed that I ever called him my son.”

  The hologram switches to that of a female reporter. I don’t pay attention to her summary of the events that happened at the reeducation center. Instead, I turn to Dámiul. “Jaerin’s all right, at least. Master Verik seems very protective of him.”

  “I’m glad.” Dámiul’s tone is flat, and he doesn’t look at me.

  I run through the possible things I can say, but none of them seem adequate. How do you comfort someone whose father told the world that he doesn’t want you anymore?

  My own face appears on the holovid, and I look up with a start. The captions say that I’m an unfortunate Ka’risil who must have been brainwashed by the Abolitionists.

  Mistress Ydaya’s distressed face fills the holovid. “Iris was a curious little Ka’risil, and the criminals must have used that against her. I wish I’d watched her more closely. I know the policy for rogue Ka’risil, but I hope the courts will be more lenient in her case and let her return to me. I miss my charming little violist.”

  She speaks of me like I’m a lost pet, but there’s genuine concern in her voice. I feel a slight twinge of guilt. The Ydayas did take good care of me. I may not have had freedom, but I can’t complain about how I was treated. My room there was certainly more comfortable than the one I’m living in now, and I enjoyed the pleasure of performing so often. If she were a true patron, an employer who allowed me freedom, I would gladly play for her.

  Atikéa stops the holovid. “That’s the world’s reaction to what happened. The Abolitionists are a criminal underground organization who brainwashed and used an upstanding young man to break a delinquent out of jail. And Iris is an innocent little Ka’risil, also brainwashed and used. That’s good for them, I guess, since it means Jaerin’s not in trouble with the law, and getting Iris back to the Ydayas won’t be much of a problem once I find a device that can block telepathy without being detected. But not so good for the Abolitionists. According to them, we’re monsters.” She stands. “Before, we were just outspoken activists. Now, we’ve committed an actual crime.”

  “This is my fault.” Dámiul’s voice is low.

  “Don’t you dare talk like that,” Atikéa snaps. “Guilt won’t do you any good. This is a setback, but it won’t deter us. Jaerin and I had two goals for the Abolition: inform as many Ka’risil of the truth as possible, and persuade those who sympathize with us to speak up. Remember, just because people aren’t willing to join an underground movement doesn’t mean they don’t believe as we do. If we can get one of the more influential silent sympathizers to go public, more will follow.”

  She walks around the table. Dámiul follows her out of the room. I get up, aiming to talk to him, but stop when he calls Atikéa’s name.

  I feel a light smack on my arm and turn to see Cara.

  “Hey, want to help me explain this crazy planet to Clueless here?” Cara points her thumb at Milo, who looks like he’s trying very hard not to make a face at her.

  I turn to look at Dámiul, who asks Atikéa in Adryil to tell him more about the Abolition. I suppose that’s more important than anything I have to say. “Sure.”

  Atikéa leads Dámiul into a room, and the door closes behind them. He needs to know more about everything that’s going on, and I shouldn’t interrupt. Meanwhile, Milo just arrived on Adrye, and he needs to know more about what it’s like here. And Cara needs my help explaining everything, if for no other reason than to act as a buffer between her and Milo. I don’t understand how two people who just met can irritate each other so much.

  What about what I need? If Cara had opened the door to the med room a minute later, I would have told Dámiul that I love him, and all this miserable uncertainty would be over.

  Come on, Iris, I chastise myself. There’ll be another moment.

  I turn to the table. Cara presses something on the screen, and a hologram of Nathril appears. I point to the buildings and start describing them for Milo, as Dámiul once did for me.

  CHAPTER 38

  I NEVER THOUGHT I’D FIND myself wondering again where Dámiul disappeared to. But hours have passed since I spotted him leaving the hideout, and I haven’t seen him since. I can’t help wondering if he’s avoiding me.

  Maybe he senses there’s something amiss with me. Maybe I misread all the signs, and he doesn’t love me after all. Maybe he looked in my head and saw how I feel, and he doesn’t know how to let me down. But he swore he wouldn’t use his powers on me—he wouldn’t break his promise, would he? Especially since
Yandria told him not to use his telepathy.

  Maybe! Maybe! Maybe! Now I know why so many love songs are terribly depressing. It’s the worst feeling in the world, all this not knowing.

  “Hey, are you okay?” Milo peers at me with concern—when did he get here?

  I shrug. “Of course. Why?”

  “You’ve been gone a long time for a language tablet.”

  I realize that I’ve spent the past several minutes staring blankly at the hideout’s door, wondering where Dámiul went. I turn my attention to Milo, annoyed at myself. He and Cara were talking about how they’re going to change the world for the Ka’risil in their quarters, and here I am, pining over a boy.

  “Sorry.” I walk quickly back to the room, clutching the language tablet I’d left it for. “Just got lost in thought.”

  “Oh?” Milo gives me a questioning look.

  I can’t tell him where my mind was, but I don’t want to lie to him either. So I keep my mouth shut and reenter the room, where Cara greets me with a cocked eyebrow.

  “What happened to you?” she asks. “Did you have to dig that thing out of the ground or something?”

  I hand her the tablet. “Just got distracted.”

  Milo’s face still carries questions, but he doesn’t ask them. His jaw tightens, and I can tell he’s not happy with me. I wish I didn’t have to keep things from him, but my love is one thing I can’t talk to him about—not before I’ve told Dámiul.

  Cara glances at him, then back at me. She makes a derisive noise. “While you were distracted, Ballerina Boy realized that the Papilian Spectacle is today.”

  Milo shoots her a cross look. “Don’t call me that.”

  She twists her mouth into a disdainful smirk. “Can’t take a joke?”

  “Cara, please,” I say, before Milo can unleash a rude retort and escalate this into the third shouting match tonight. I’ve become accustomed to Cara’s attitude, but I swear, she’s been worse tonight than she ever was previously. Something about Milo’s presence seems to bother her to no end. “Do you have to snipe at him all the time?”

  Cara narrows her eyes. “Well, we can’t all be sweet little butterflies.” She turns to the screen on the table and swipes something on it. “Anyway, as I was saying before Master Sensitive interrupted, the time difference between here and Papilio means the Spectacle’s actually happening right now. Want to see what you look like to the Adryil?”

  Intrigued, I nod. Cara presses something on the touchscreen. She doesn’t seem to notice Milo staring daggers at her.

  A holovid featuring a stage appears in the center of the round table. I regard it with fascination.

  Cara gestures at it. “This is what your Spectacle looks like from here. Most people in Nathril won’t watch it until tomorrow, when it’s not the middle of the night, so you guys are getting an advance peek.”

  In the holovid, the stage’s gold curtain goes up. Holographic trees and flowers decorate the stage in a forest scene. A lone ballerina in an elegant white costume stands in the center of the stage with her back to the audience and her arms posed gracefully above her golden head. Above the upper left corner of the stage, a portrait of Sabina appears. “Sabina Laclair, Ballet Dancer” is spelled out underneath in bright blue Adryil symbols, along with two numbers: her Linx ranking and her starting price. The sight makes me recoil.

  The music starts, and I recognize the fervent violin solo as Brent’s playing. There was always something about the way he lifts his notes that made him stand out from the others. I’d almost forgotten about him. And to think, I once swooned in his presence, like all the other girls in the Orchestra. My life then seems so far from the one I know now, it might have happened to someone else.

  Brent’s image appears beside Sabina’s, along with his name, ranking, and price. In his picture, he poses with his instrument, and it occurs to me that it’s the same one that will show up on the Wall when someone buys him. All those portraits I used to gaze at—they weren’t to honor the alumni. They were to display a product for sale. The thought infuriates me. We’re people, not items. I’ll do whatever I must to make everyone see that.

  Sabina glides across the stage, as graceful as ever. Brent’s violin notes speed into broken chords, and she performs a set of spins, whipping one long, elegant leg out and drawing it back in perfect time with the music.

  “Nice fouettés, Sabina.” Milo sounds impressed.

  Loud applause rises over the music. A movement above the stage catches my eye: Sabina’s price turning green. It goes up by a hundred.

  Milo furrows his brow. “What does that mean?”

  “Someone bid on her.” Cara tilts her head. “People usually don’t live bid during a performance because it distracts from the show. I guess someone in the audience decided they must have her, like Mistress Ydaya did with Iris.”

  A line of ballerinas leaps onto the stage. Six portraits—one for each of them—appear. Their starting prices are each about one tenth of Sabina’s, which goes up again as someone else bids.

  “So… she’s going to sign that contract?” Milo says. “They’re going to make her forget everyone who matters to her?”

  “Of course.” Cara gives him a look that says he should have known better than to ask. “The auction will stay open for a few days in case anyone who didn’t watch the Spectacle live wants to catch up on the bidding.”

  A distressed look descends on his face, and he covers his mouth with his fist.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  Milo lowers his hand. “It’s just that… she was hoping to get married before she left. When I was with her, she gave us a real shot, but we just didn’t work. She seemed pretty smitten by this one Troupe dancer—Aiden something-or-other. I guess if they ever meet again, they’ll be strangers. I wish there were a way they could stay together.”

  Cara raises her eyebrow. “You’re rooting for your ex and some other guy?”

  “I care about her, okay?” Milo glares at Cara. “Do you have to be such a bitch?”

  The harshness of his words startles me. Equally surprising is the hurt look that crosses Cara’s face. But it vanishes as quickly as it appeared, and she scowls. “Do me a favor and keep your drama to yourself. I don’t care about your or anyone else’s past. It’s the future that matters.” She turns her gaze to the performance.

  Milo’s eyes take on an apologetic expression. “Hey, Cara, I didn’t mean—”

  “Save it.” Her countenance remains frosty.

  For a moment, he looks like he’s about to say something more. But then he shakes his head and turns back to the holovid.

  On the stage, Nikolai enters, accompanied by a soaring flute solo. Two portraits appear: his and Kiki’s.

  A hot fury rises from the pit of my stomach. These are my people being auctioned off. Maybe I didn’t know them well enough to call them friends, but still, I understand their dreams. Those were once my dreams too. And it’s all a lie, designed to wring the most out of us.

  Cara glances at her watch and frowns. “Milo, we have to go. Sun’ll be up soon, and if we don’t get back before daybreak… things could get bad.”

  Milo continues staring at the scene on the holovid. “This is so wrong.”

  “I know.” Cara’s voice is unexpectedly gentle. “We’ll stop it.” She holds up the language tablet. “Starting with communication. One Ka’risil at a time.”

  Milo nods, then turns to me. “I’ll see you soon, I hope.”

  I give him a smile. “I’ll be here. Or who knows, maybe Atikéa’s plan to get me back to the Ydayas will work.”

  He brightens. “I hope so.”

  Cara smacks his arm. “No time for gooey goodbyes. Let’s go!”

  Milo lets out an exasperated sigh and leaves the room with her. Even though I know it’ll be a dangerous journey back to the Ydayas’ building, I’m not worried about him. If anyone can look out for him, it’s Cara. As long as they don’t kill each other.

  “Iris!
” Atikéa calls me from the doorway.

  “Yes?” I approach her.

  She gives me an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry you’ve been stuck here for so long. But I might have found a way to transport you back to Earth. My original plan was, of course, to get you back to the Ydayas’ as soon as I can. Not only because your life would be better there than down here, but also because I’m forming a new plan, and I need as many active Ka’risil as are willing. But if it’s freedom you desire, I have a contact in the United States who can help you start a new life as an ordinary citizen. It will be a challenge, but if you want to go, I can figure something out.”

  “No, thank you.” I don’t even have to think about the answer. “Everyone I care about is here. I’d rather live underground than among strangers.”

  Atikéa smiles. “I’m glad. We could use a brave one like you. And I know Dámiul will be happy you’re staying.”

  “Atikéa!” Tadrien approaches from the hideout’s door, and Atikéa turns her attention to him.

  Turmoil churns through my head. What did Atikéa mean when she said Dámiul would be happy I’m staying? Did he say something about me?

  A lush orchestral melody sweeps toward me, and I turn back to the still-playing holovid of the Spectacle. Despite my consternation at seeing the people I knew put up for auction, I soon find myself drawn into Sabina and Nikolai’s performance. He stretches his arms toward her, and she spins into his embrace. The two lock gazes, then dance with their hands in each others’. I suddenly feel like I’m back at Papilio, watching them rehearse from the empty orchestra pit. My entire world has changed, but I’m still the same hopeless idiot, caught up in a beautiful fantasy. There’s so much romance here, and I want nothing more than to be a part of something like the ideal portrayed on stage.

  Dámiul, could that be us? So much longing fills my heart, I can’t even watch the dancers anymore without feeling a sharp pang. I press the icon to shut down the holoprojector.