The Starfire’s power bonded me to Javen, and despite how my feelings for him make zero sense, despite my previous questions about our future together, the Starfire was right to pair us together. I love Javen.
I shudder against the words and close my eyelids.
I love Javen.
We don’t complete each other like all the stories told me would happen. Instead, we enhance the person who already exists. I’m sure his love is true, and his intent is on saving his people. My destiny was to be at his side. At least, I think it was.
My breath shakes with the admission. I love Javen—and I lost him.
But why didn’t the crystals foresee Javen turning against me, breaking the connection the gems set in motion? Maybe they did. So how can the power be good when so much evil has been created? Why would the Starfire allow us to be ripped apart? Is their prophecy the only possible outcome? Is our fate locked, or is it an illusion to move us along the path the crystals want us to travel?
The hate in Javen’s swirling, cyan eyes before Dad, Irene, Max, and I escaped the mine burns inside my chest like a raw wound.
“Javen tried to kill me,” I mumble under my breath.
The words punch me in the stomach, and I clutch at my aching center.
No, the Starfire was wrong. Wrong about Mom and wrong to let hate fill Javen’s heart. The crystals were supposed to bring life. Instead, nothing but death now lingers on Arcadia.
None of this makes sense.
I release a guttural scream until my voice grows hoarse.
Then I break into a sob as the agony pours from my body. I fall back on the soil, clutching the still-open journal. My heart pangs with the ghostly image of Javen’s enraged face in my spinning mind. Impossibly, I try to balance this horror with the memory of when he had declared his love for me, with how his strong, warm arms always made me feel safe, as if the world was finally going to be okay.
But the world isn’t okay. Nothing is okay. Everything is shattered.
Javen didn’t just break our bond. He obliterated it.
The tears dry while I rest my cheek on my knees and gaze over the cyan landscape. I never even wanted to come to Arcadia. But now that I’m here, I’m wrapped up in so much more than any seventeen-year-old girl should ever be. Why is it suddenly up to me to figure out how to rescue two obviously broken planets? There must be other people infinitely more qualified for the job.
What did Mom say? I flip through the journal’s pages and locate her letter to me on the last page again. I trace my finger under her handwriting.
The planet was calling for you.
Why? To rip more people I love from my life? To kill me? What?
I slam the journal shut with a smack. I don’t want to be Alku. I don’t want to be a savior or whatever Arcadia wants me to be. Why did Mom put me in this position? Was coming here even really Dad’s dream? Or was that just a thought she had planted in his head?
My gut tenses with guilt for even entertaining the idea. Mom was a kind person. She loved Dad and me more than anything. She showed us daily with her care and devotion. And of course this was Dad’s dream. Discovering a new planet and designing an interplanetary habitable place for humans to colonize was his life work before he even met Mom.
Voices sound from behind, and I quickly stand to find a more secluded spot. Perhaps one that is out of the Starfire field’s light. I’m in no state to become the appointed messenger to share how the battle went all wrong to any survivors at the camp. Or explain how they could now be stuck in limbo in the Intersection for the rest of their lives as a result.
I decide not to go too far and head for the forest surrounding the camp, trudging through the foliage and thick trees. I only stop once I’m certain that no one is following me. Sliding to the ground once more, I lean against the trunk of a large tree. The smooth bark and solidity at my back support the tattered edges of my emotions. I gaze up through the fingering shadowy trees over my head to the cyan sky above and study the two ever-present moons tucked between the millions of stars speckling the darkness.
My hands continue to tremble, and I let out a long sigh. The only way I’ll begin to feel better is to press forward. To push through the grief and confusion. To figure out a way to fix this disaster. Not that I really think I can accomplish the task on my own. But I have a team. Dad, Irene, and Max are here too. There’s no way I’ll leave them to fend for themselves. The survivors in the camp, who may not have been able to fight, might now have an opportunity to help in other ways. The odds of success may be small, but any chance is still a chance.
A spark builds inside of me. We can do this.
I make a mental list of the advantages on our side. Dad and his portal device—he and the others can cross the Intersection unaided by me. Irene can program or hack into most computers or programs. And Max will take any assignment we give him.
And on Arcadia? Despite my lack of trust, Luca and Alina may still be willing to help. If only we could figure out how to return to Earth. We need military support, or there’s little chance of defeating Hammond. I’m positive that not all appointees on the World Senate fully back Hammond. They only fear for their lives . . . and the lives of their families. And if Hammond has the Senate convinced that the only way to save billions of people on Earth is to take the ore from the Alku, who are few and supposedly aggressive anyway, they’re probably not going to oppose her. The members fail to understand how much more is at stake. I’ll need to open their eyes and help them see.
My mind shifts back to the journal. Something Mom wrote sticks with me. I stare at the cover. My grandfather traveled to Earth through a portal made by the Starfire. I gaze toward the Starfire field’s soft glow behind the hill.
Is opening a portal to Earth from within the Intersection possible? Why wouldn’t it be? This would circumvent Hammond’s control of the Turner Space Fold. Such a portal could bring allies directly into this dimension—an army to take Hammond by surprise.
On Earth, Max has influential contacts through his family, and Dad’s influence is a distinct advantage.
My lips curl into a smile, and my breathing picks up.
The Starfire is only a tool, and the variable is us. The energy’s influence might be significant, but we possess the ability to use the power for good or evil if we only harness the force.
My body tingles with excitement as warmth spreads past my sternum to fill my chest.
Hope.
The feeling is hope. Hope that I can reach Javen again. Hope that Earth can be healed. Hope that both races, Alku and human, who each possess the capacity for evil, can experience redemption by tapping into the good that is in each individual.
Gripping Mom’s journal, I return my attention to the glowing field. An instant connection to the Starfire grips me, drawing me from the woods. The concerto of energy dances around and through me.
The Starfire from the field is calling to me. The crystal’s power fused with me and now runs in my blood. I’m certain that’s what happened when I healed Dad.
My human and Alku blood.
Chapter 2
Journal in hand, my feet hit the packed dirt harder when the lab comes into view. Seeing this building triggers a horrible possibility to sink in. Is Dad even okay? I ran away so fast, I didn’t even bother to confirm whether he would be safe.
What if the people I heard a few moments ago were Max or Irene?
I near the lab just as the sun peeks over the horizon and the dark sky transitions into a lighter blue-green ombre. Morning is coming.
The door stands wide open, and I rush through.
“Daddy?” I rub my sweaty palms over my pants.
“We’re in the lab,” he calls from the back.
I exhale a deep, quavering breath and then charge down the hall toward the sound of his voice. But the electricity in my chest doesn’t settle. Rounding the corner, I spot Dad and Commander Tucker inside the room. At the holo-computer, Irene and Max examine a series of files,
including an image labeled, “The Starfire Inhibitor.” I place Mom’s journal onto the nearest counter.
Dad sees me and comes directly to my side. “Are you okay?”
I wrap my arms around him, but the contact isn't quite enough to calm my nervous energy. “I’m in one piece, but how about you? Are you okay?” I ask, remembering how Javen’s blast hit Dad’s shoulder. Gritting my teeth together, I release him to glance at the spot. Dad is clearly walking around. He seems to have all his color back, but he could just be putting on a brave face. “Was I able to heal you completely?”
Dad nods and rotates his shoulder forward, then back. “I’m good. My body feels better than ever, actually.” His lips form a thin line and he places his hands on my shoulders. “I’m concerned about you after what happened at the mine, however.”
I gulp down the lump in my throat as the horrible memory of Javen’s angry face enters my mind again.
“I have to move on, Dad.” Should I tell them I’m Alku? That Mom was, too? Right now, we have enough trouble to deal with, and I’m not sure that launching into my alien heritage, the same alien race that just tried to kill us, is a great idea.
He furrows his brow slightly. “If you need time—”
“I’ll be okay.”
Irene and Max remain uncharacteristically quiet while working. They must be struggling to hold it together too after nearly dying at the mine. Max glances my way with a tense smile.
Dad gives my arm a squeeze then returns to Tucker.
“We’re glad you're back, Cassi,” Irene says, her eyes glued to the screen.
I hold back a smile and turn to the ginger-haired man. “Commander Tucker, why are you still in the Intersection? And not with the general on Arcadia?”
Tucker places his hands behind his back and lowers his head. “General Atkins thought it wise for one of us to stay behind. She was convinced the entire mission could go south, and therefore, a leader may be needed in the Intersection for the refugees.”
“So you volunteered?”
“Not by my own choice.” Tucker lifts his head. “But, unfortunately, she was correct. Do you know if she survived?”
I sigh through my nose. “Honestly, everything is a blur. But I don’t remember seeing her.”
Tucker straightens. “Then, until further notice, I’m in charge of military strategy.”
Dad pats him on the shoulder. “And we’ll trust your judgment.”
“I appreciate the sentiment,” Tucker says, “but you have little choice.”
“What are we working on?” I ask, attempting to return attention to the task at hand. “And do we know yet if the Alku can cross into the Intersection on their own?”
If they can, all this may be over before we can even start.
Dad gnaws his bottom lip in thought. “Well, I do know the Alku army took a small amount of the Starfire from the field. But as of yesterday, they were unable to cross from the Intersection to Arcadia without using my portal device.”
My shoulders sag in relief.
“But it doesn’t mean they won’t be able to eventually,” he says. “Honestly, we don’t know much. We were just now discussing our next steps.”
“Which are?” I ask.
“Two things,” Dad says. “Max and Irene are examining the Starfire Inhibitor plans provided by General Atkins’s spy. Commander Tucker and I are discussing how to locate the missing Senate members.”
My brows knit together. “Luca and Alina . . .” I murmur to myself.
“We still need to locate Luca and Alina and then, hopefully, learn more about the organization they’re working for,” Dad says. “Can’t hurt to ask them to help us. Again.”
“We’ll need to return to Arcadia,” Tucker says. “Otherwise, all we can do is blindly prepare from inside this dimension.”
My heart grows heavy. Tucker is right. Insulating ourselves isn’t something we can do for long. But it also means I’ll have to admit to myself there’s a possibility I might never see Javen again. He could even be dead. Everyone could be dead. Inside the Intersection, I can avoid those answers.
My breath quickens and my head begins to spin.
“I need to grab a bite to eat.” I realize I haven’t eaten for a long time and it’s a good excuse to gather my thoughts. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, and then you can finish filling me in.”
“There’s quite a bit in the kitchen pantry,” Dad says. “Owens stocked the place. Apparently, he was preparing for the long haul.”
I force my lips into a smile. “I won’t be long.” Head held high, I make it into the hall. But my world keeps spinning, faster and faster. I press my hand to the closest wall to avoid tipping over. Blinking back the vertigo, my chin drops to my chest and I focus on my feet. Just one foot in front of the other, Cassi.
“Do you require assistance?” Mom’s voice echoes in front of me.
I whip up my head and gape at the holographic projection of my mother.
She tips her head a fraction and blinks—a design in her programming intended to make her appear more human and engaged.
I still don’t reply, and she tucks her hands into her lab coat pockets. “Cassiopeia Foster, do you require assistance?”
“Why’d you do it, Mom?” The words come out as a sob, and I quickly lower my voice. The last thing I want right now is for someone to see me in this stressed state. Everyone needs to stay strong. If we don’t, our plans will fall apart.
For a moment, I swear the AI’s eyes glimmer as if she were human—as if she were my real mom.
“Yes, I am programmed to appear like Isobel Foster, your biological mother. But I cannot answer your question unless you provide me with additional information, such as the topic of your inquiry.”
I straighten. “Come with me to the kitchen.”
“As you wish.”
I speed walk to the galley, half wanting to lose this phantom of my mother, even though I told the AI to follow me. The other half, however, needs her to be with me.
An automatic light flicks on overhead. Inside the kitchen are a large pantry, a stove and cooktop, and a single long countertop running along the right side. On the left is a booth-style table.
While the AI stands behind me, I rummage through the pantry and choose a package of beef stew with carrots and potatoes. Not exactly breakfast food, but whatever.
“You will find a slot to the stove’s left to insert the package into the heat,” AI Mom says.
But I ignore her, plop down on the booth’s seat and rip open the packaging with my teeth. I down the cold stew in about thirty seconds flat and toss the empty biodegradable container onto the table. The AI regards my every move.
“Sit,” I say, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. Apparently, my manners have really gone downhill over the last month.
“I have no requirements to rest or sit,” the AI explains.
I glare in her direction. “I don’t care what you require. I asked you to sit.”
The AI tips her head again and raises her eyebrow as if to question me. But she obeys and lowers her projected body into the seat across from me. The AI folds her hands on the table and leans in. The projection flickers, just slightly. “What do you need, Cassi?”
My breath hitches at the question. Not the question itself, but the fact she used my nickname. And the use made her sound exactly like Mom. My real mom. Not a hologram.
Without much thought, the words pour from my mouth. “There are so many questions in my mind, Mom. And you’re the only person with answers.”
A slight grin stretches over her lips. “I will use whatever information is available in my database to answer any questions you have.”
I sigh. She’s a hologram. An AI. Not the real thing I want her to be.
“Cassi?” A male voice sounds.
I look up. Max’s head is poked around the corner. His gray eyes are glassy and bruised with exhaustion.
“AI deactivate,” I say. A tingle of embarrass
ment flutters in my stomach. I didn’t expect to get caught in a booth with an AI version of my mom.
The image of Mom vanishes.
Max raises an eyebrow. “You okay?”
“Su—” The lie starts to come out, but then I stop. Tears sting the back of my eyes, but I push out, “No, I’m not okay.”
Max steps into the kitchen and sits opposite of me, where AI Mom was a moment ago. “Me neither. No one out there is. We nearly died, and there’s no guarantee any of us will live the day out. I feel like a stupid, scared kid hiding in a closet while waiting for the storm to be over.”
I swallow the lump building in my throat and stand. I want to go to Max and comfort him, but he keeps his distance. The energy between us has changed. So instead, I grab a glass from the nearest cabinet. “You want a drink too?”
“Yeah.” Max looks away, toward the wall.
I reach for a second glass and fill them both with cold water from the tap. Just the simple act of fulfilling this basic need somehow settles the uncertainty in my gut.
“Here.” I pass a cup to Max and then guzzle from my own.
The water is fresh, pure. The lab must be equipped with a tank, maybe an atmospheric water generator to self-sustain. And the Starfire must be powering this basic tech.
Max chugs his water and plunks the glass to the table as I sit again. He eyes me as if he has a long conversation waiting on the tip of his tongue. Still, we wait in silence.
I would love to share with him everything I read in Mom’s journal. Max is a person I can trust. He’s been there for me since the day we met. But I say nothing. Instead I try and guess what’s on his mind. It could be survival . . . or maybe the kiss we shared. This definitely isn’t time for kissing or even talk of kissing. So, I’m not going to ask.
I finish off my water. “We should get back.”
Max moves his hand to the top of my wrist and holds my gaze. “I’m sorry for what happened on Arcadia.”
I flit my attention to him but don’t really know if he’s talking about what happened between him and me or what happened at the mine. “Me too.”
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