Spinning Starlight (8 page)

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 Vic 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.

“Kalkig, I told you to—what are you doing? Put her down!”

I’m released, collapsing to a heap on the ground again, and find the source of the new voice illuminated by the light from the stranger’s shoulder. Another person has arrived. This
one is an actual person, normal-looking and everything. Well, normal enough to tell he’s around my age. His skin is close to the same sienna shade of my own, if a bit darker, and he has the
same dark hair, but his features aren’t anything like mine. Sharper, more angular, including the shape of his eyes. His voice was that way, too, with an accent that somehow made the words
themselves sharper. Then I can’t see him as well, because he crouches at my side, blocking the light from his companion.

“You just came out?” he asks.

I nod. It has to be pretty obvious.

“Not feeling too great then, eh? That’ll pass. I’m Tiav. What’s your name?”

I think that’s the first time in my life anyone’s asked me my name. Even if I
could
talk, the newness of it might have held me speechless. When I don’t answer, his
eyes pass over me from head to toe, then return to study my face. His mouth sets in a flat line. “You’re from one of the Points, aren’t you?”

Another nod. If he knows what the Points are, this isn’t so bad.

The strange one makes a noise, but Tiav ignores him. “Which one?”

Um, problem. That’s not a question I can answer with a nod or shake of my head.

My silence doesn’t sit well with him. “Maybe my friend Kalkig was on the right track.”

“It doesn’t matter which she’s from,” Kalkig says. At least, I think he does. His voice is made for the guttural language he used earlier. “We have to send her
back, Tiav—she shouldn’t be here. She
can’t
be here.”

No, I can’t go back, not without helping my brothers, not back under Minali’s control, which will be even tighter with my attempted escape, knowing what she’s willing to do to
carry out her plan. The lives she’s willing to cut down. I shake my head emphatically, eyes wide.