Starbreak (28 page)

Unheard of. I stomped my feet down into my boots, one at a time, then tugged the laces tight.

They need to lift the banishment. Without that we have no chance.

I am aware,
Vadix said, his voice wry in my head.
I am trying. I fear that I am unable to advocate forcefully enough for your people. I will defend
you
until my body returns to soil, but—

Don’t you want me to be safe? You said it yourself!

Of course I do! But . . .
His thoughts petered out. I hissed out a slow breath of air, letting my head hang down. There was no use getting angry—not at him. He was only trying to help. Besides, I needed to be even-headed on that chilly morning. Strong.

Thank you,
I said, sending a wave of warmth across the kilometers of space.
For all you’ve done so far.
I pulled my left bootlaces into a bow and streamed down the stairs. I wasn’t sure if anyone on this ship went to work anymore, but if they did, I intended to catch Van Hofstadter before he left for the library. There was no time to linger. I put on my coat.

But as I drew the front flap across my body and slipped the buttons into place, I heard footsteps on the stairwell.

“Terra?” A sleep-drowsed voice called out. I turned. My brother
stood on the steps, wearing my father’s bathrobe, looking down at me.

I wasn’t sure what to say. I lifted my chin, staring back. “Yeah?”

“It’s not even six yet. Where are you
going
?”

My hand rested on the doorknob. It was true; on any other day I would have slept in—finding solace in dreams well into the late morning. But how could I ever explain that to my brother? He came down another step, his wide feet bare against the metal.

“Out,” was all I said.

“Well,” he replied, giving his lips a sleepy smack, “don’t be gone too long. Hannah and I are going to the ship’s bow today to join her parents. We’d like you to come with us.”

“You want to return to Earth?”

Was it just the light, or did Ronen go a shade paler at the suggestion?

“No,” he said. “But I don’t think the rebels have a better plan.”

My coat still half buttoned, I marched back across the galley. I stood at the foot of the stairs, looking up at my brother. He was unshaven, a thick beard coming in over his chin. His eyes had sleepy circles beneath them—too many nights up late, tending to my young niece alone. When I’d moved in, it was to help him shoulder the burden of parenthood. To become the sort of family we’d never been for each other. But I’d run off, failing him in that.

“Wait, Ronen,” I said, my voice a whisper. It wasn’t until I said it
that I knew the truth: I wanted my brother with me. There had been times when I’d resented him, and hated Hannah. Times when I hated
both
of them for leaving our home gutted and hollow in the wake of Momma’s death. But he was here now, and so was I. Maybe given enough time we could learn to be a proper family. I wanted a chance to try. “I’m working on something. A plan. Not returning to Earth. Something better.”

My brother watched me doubtfully. “Hannah told me you fell in love with a boy there. An alien.”

I put my hand on the newel post, touching the frigid metal. “He’s not an alien. I am. He was there first.”

Ronen watched with disbelief. I winced, turning my gaze away.

“Anyway,” I said, speaking to the dark corners of his galley, “this isn’t about him. It’s about us. Our future. Our people. It’s about
tikkun olam
.”

“Healing the world,” my brother said bleakly, his voice an echo of our father’s.

“Right. Our whole purpose here was to settle that planet. That’s how we were supposed to save humanity. It’s our
duty
, Ro. More than our jobs and our loyalty to the Council. More than being good husbands or wives or even parents. We’re supposed to ensure that the human race lives on, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t think running back to a dead planet will do it.”

A wisp of a smile tugged at my brother’s mouth, but he fought it. So I pushed just a little harder.

“C’mon. If we give up, what kind of legacy would that be? For Momma—for Abba, too? He worked his whole life for that. Do you really want it all to have been in vain?”

He held up both palms in front of him like a shield—and let out a string of tired, loose chuckles. “Okay, Terra. Fine! Fine. We’ll wait. Only . . .”

“Only what?”

“Only what are we waiting
for
?”

That was the question—the one worth a million gelt. I let out a sigh.

“I’m not sure yet. But I’ll let you know as soon as I am.”

•  •  •

I walked briskly through the district streets that morning, under ceiling panels that flickered so badly that they were dark as often as they were light. The moments of blackness were terrifying—impenetrable, thanks to the streetlights that had all been knocked out by rocks and sticks and fists. I’d never realized before how tenuous the cycles of our lives were here on the
Asherah
, how artificial and easily disrupted. But now that I’d been on the surface of Zehava, seen Xarki lift through the firmament and then sink down to reveal constellations and moons, it had become abundantly clear to me that solar lights were not the
same thing as the sun, that glass was not interchangeable with sky.

The streets were still empty except for a few crows and scrambling alley cats. Since the riots, apparently the people had taken to sleeping in. I suppose they were allowed that luxury; for the first time in their lives, they were no longer beholden to the constant cycle of work and school, of duty and
tikkun olam
. But not me. If anything I stomped up that concrete stoop with a new purpose, a clarity that I’d never felt before. Because I was loved, I would find a way out of this. Off this ship, away from the dome, free of the Council at last.

Free.

From the other side of the door came the sounds of burbling laughter and warm conversation. A light was on, just a yellow sliver against the concrete. I watched it blink on and off in perfect timing with the panel lights overhead.

The electrical system is controlled in the bow,
I thought, forgetting for only a moment that Vadix was with me as he rose from his bed in his house below, pulling his long body toward the shower.

Are you sure Silvan’s to be trusted?

My throat tightened. I had the sudden urge to rush across the dome—through the fields and pastures, past the hospital and school. I would beg Silvan to leave us alone, to let us leave. We’d find a way, Vadix and I . . . But Rebbe Davison had told me to wait. My
teacher
. He’d been a rebel longer than I had. Helping Aleksandra plot and
scheme. If I was to take her place, I’d have to learn to be patient.

Yes,
I said simply. Then, pushing the thought away, I raised my hand and pounded it against the door.

It swung open. Koen Maxwell stood on the other side, an uncertain smile lighting up his face. He held a redheaded toddler on his hip. It was Corban, Van Hofstadter’s son. The shy little boy buried his face in Koen’s neck.

“Terra?” Koen said in surprise, the grin still frozen on his mouth. He glanced back over his shoulder toward the warm space inside, where Van stood over the stove frying eggs while his wife, Nina, set the table for all four of them.

“Terra Fineberg’s here,” he said. The only sound was the sizzle of the pan, the clatter of silverware. Around us the lights winked out again, and then back on.

“Koen!” Nina called out past the threshold at last. “Invite her in.”

Koen grabbed my hand, holding my fingers in his cool, calloused fingers. Their touch brought back strange memories—of all those months when I’d fantasized their cold, clammy pressure against my body.

Really?
Vadix thought. He wasn’t offended, not precisely. More incredulous at the thought of this shy, gawky boy serving as the object of my desires.

There was no one else,
I said.
I was desperate.

I let the door shut behind me. Standing there in the entryway, stomping the feeling back into my cold-numbed feet, I could feel the knife’s edge of Van Hofstadter’s green eyes slicing into me.

“They told me you were dead,” he said. “Crashed on the surface of that planet.”

“Here I am,” I said helplessly. I wasn’t sure whether I should take off my coat or not. I didn’t feel particularly welcome in their home. Perhaps better to keep it on. “Not dead.”

For the longest time no one said anything. Even little Corban was silent, his thumb stuffed into his mouth. Finally Nina let out a long sigh.

“Well,
I’m
glad you’re okay, Terra. We’ve lost so many in the past few days. The last thing we need is to lose you, too. Come in. Sit down. Van, get her some coffee.”

I hesitated only a moment. It was clear who was in charge in this household. Van wore a scowl as he poured me a fresh cup of dandelion coffee and thunked it down on the table before me. I wrapped my fingers around the mug, glad for its warmth.

“Thanks,” I said. “I shouldn’t stay long.” Then I saw the look that shadowed Nina’s expression—a heavy eclipse over a bright moon.

“Have many people died?” I asked. She sat down across from me, drinking deep from her own coffee cup.

“The last I’ve heard, forty-seven.”

“More than that. On the shuttle—” I began, then winced, remembering Deklan’s expression just before the beast ran him through—that wild flash of fear just before the pain. “We lost some on the shuttle, too. My old neighbor, Mar Schneider. And Deklan Levitt and Laurel Selberlicht. You remember them, Koen? They were in our class.”

He stood in the doorway still, clutching Corban to him. His wide mouth fell open.

“I do,” he said. “Laurel was—she was my
friend
.”

I hadn’t known that, hadn’t known much about Koen in the years before he became my father’s student. But apparently Van knew. All at once the man was beside him, sliding a reassuring arm around Koen’s lower back. Funny, how it no longer made me angry to see the two of them together. It felt right; normal. Like they were a family, the four of them. And I guess they were. Nina didn’t even blink at the show of affection between the two men, like it was normal—expected.

But when she spoke up, she
did
sound sad. Like she couldn’t bear the loss of one more life, much less three.

“Why are you here, Terra?”

Overhead the lights dimmed, then sparked back to full life. I took a long sip of my coffee, steeling myself. It was as dark as mud and twice as bitter.

“Rebbe Davison has asked me to spread the word. We’re going to hold a meeting tonight.”

Koen stepped forward, breaking away from Van’s strong arms.

“A meeting? What for?”

“We’re reconvening the Children of Abel. I need you to spread the word. We have to discuss our next actions now that Aleksandra—” I cut my words short. Van glowered.

“Now that Aleksandra
what
?”

“Died,” I said, forcing my gaze down to the crackle glaze that coated the mug. “She died. On the surface. She led an attack on the aliens, and they caught her, and—”

“Oh, no.”

Now it was Van’s turn to stand, weak-kneed, pressing the back of his hand to his teeth. He stifled a cry. Beside him Koen shook his head over and over again.

“Aleksandra? Gone? But she was supposed to lead us!”

“I know,” I whispered. Part of me wanted to point out to them that Aleksandra had fled the ship at the first chance she’d gotten, as though the people left behind were worthless, meaningless. But it seemed like an insult to whatever memory of her that they still held dear. I flashed a pair of fingers to my heart.

“What will we do now?” Koen asked.

“Well,” I said, speaking slowly. My gaze went to Van, who watched me with wounded eyes. We’d never gotten along, not when we’d competed for Koen’s affections, not when I’d been desperate to prove
my loyalty to the rebels. And now Rebbe Davison needed me to take him under my wing, to make him follow me. It seemed impossible. “Mordecai Davison wants me to lead the rebels.”

Van let out a snort. “You?”

“Yes, me!” I squared my jaw, leveling my gaze at him. “I’ve been working with one of the aliens. A translator by the name of Vadix. He’s petitioning the Zehavan senate on our behalf.”

“I really don’t think you’re fit to lead—”

“And the Council didn’t think you were fit to love each other!” Leaving my coffee steaming on the table, I rose to my feet. “I thought the whole point of this rebellion was that we got to choose our own futures. Well, I’m working toward
tikkun olam
now. Harder than Aleksandra ever did, if you ask me. You don’t want to follow me? Fine, then follow the Council. I’m sure they’d be happy to have you.”

I started toward the front door again, shouldering between Koen and Van. Neither of them called out to stop me. But Nina did, her voice firm and clear.

“Terra, wait!”

I stopped, turned back. Van’s wife was hardly any older than he was. Her black curls were thick and lustrous, her eyes bright with a keen intelligence. I’d never thought of her as a rebel before—only collateral damage in the love between Koen and Van. But now, for whatever reason, she was willing to join us. To join me.

“Of course we’ll come to the meeting tonight. The library?”

My gaze flickered toward Van, then back again. “No. The school. Nineteen o’clock.”

“Thank you, Terra,” she said. She reached over and picked up the mug of coffee she’d poured, letting the heat steam her face. Then she glanced up again.

“Koen,” she commanded sharply, “go with her. The districts aren’t safe to walk alone. Not anymore.”

The air was so thick, you could slice it like meat from a bone. Koen dropped Corban into his father’s arms while Van pushed his lower lip out in a sulk. He watched as Koen wound his scarf around his neck and buttoned his coat tight.

“Thanks, Nina,” I said, turning back to nod at her before we slipped out through the door. She smiled up over the steam, saluting me so briefly, I wasn’t really sure it had happened at all.