Spinning Starlight (13 page)

There’s a lot of information in there, not least the idea that Ferinne cut off contact with the rest of us, and I tuck it away in my mind. Tiav’s answer about the language makes
sense, I guess. If they have access to our broadcasts, though, they might know things about my family or the company. I dig back into the symbols and take a little longer for my next question.

“Liss-en con-tent?”

“No, I don’t think so. Not for a long time now. The linguists have computer programs that monitor linguistic patterns and alert them when they start to veer too far from
ours.”

Too bad. No shortcuts to explaining about the Jantzen family situation, then.

Tiav coincidentally follows the same track for his own question. “So, can you tell me why you left Sampati to come here, or
how
you did?”

I start to look for the symbols, then freeze. I’m pretty sure Minali didn’t include a live audio transmitter with the implant. If she had, she’d have heard my planning with
Dom. I’d never have made it out of the house.

But what if the implant
is
programmed for more than watching whether I use my voice? Voice-recognition might just mean it’s programmed for
my
voice, or it could also mean
it listens for certain words said around me. Key words that’ll trigger the booby trap set to kill my brothers.

My ribs tighten on my lungs, refusing to let me breathe. Dom said a lot of key words when I was still home, but maybe the implant is sophisticated enough to recognize if I try to spell out
Minali’s whole plan. Maybe I’m becoming completely paranoid.

Maybe, maybe…maybe a lot of things, and I have precisely zero way of knowing whether any are true. Tiav’s program means I just need time to write things out, but I can’t risk it.
Not yet, not without figuring out more first.

Tiav’s hand moves to rest on my shoulder. The contact startles me.

“Are you okay? You said you’re in trouble back there. Did something bad happen?”

I nod and work out the only thing I can think of that might be safe.
“How—dont no. Ack-sih-dent.”

“But you said you came here for a reason.”

True, I did.
“Naht mye ree-sun.”

This little bit of conversation has taken forever. I’m not sure how long, because I can’t decipher the Ferinne clocks. But between my false starts and some symbols sounding the same
at first but not really and my mind wandering off mid-alphabet when I need to be focusing, I’m pretty sure we’ve been in the office for at least an hour. I don’t know how Tiav
puts up with the waiting, but the inefficiency is making me want to punch my fist through the desk.

I have Tiav’s voice and the voice of the computer, but it’s still like when I’m alone at the house. Silence suffocates me.

It’s worse than that. I’m alone away from home. Something I’ve never been. Not really. Not for more than a day. I miss Dom. Dom could find a way to speed it up. A lump of
emotion adds to the constant pressure in my throat.

Tiav sees that, or sees something, because he blanks the computer. “Let’s take a break. Come on.”

That kind of break sounds like a better alternative than the kind I was about to put in the equipment, so I stand and follow him out of the room.

We walk down to the second floor of the Nyum, the balcony overlooking the circular lobby. Tiav leans comfortably against the railing, waiting for me to join him. Then he gestures to the shelves
along the walls.

“See all those books? They hold the history of Ferinne, everything ever written by the Aelo for nearly two thousand years. It’s all in the computer databases now, of course, but we
keep the books. My mother has rooms full of them at home, too.”

The word
books
seems vaguely familiar, and I realize it’s why this place reminded me of Tarix. Old records and history. The “thinkers” on Tarix have the last remnants
of our written language, maybe in things called books. I must have seen a few during a childhood visit.

“You don’t use writing anymore, but you still keep history, right?” Tiav continues. “Recordings, images, computers that can dictate it back to you?”

Yes, that’s the only form of record keeping I’ve ever known. Talking to Dom or having him find old news-vids for me. Never had a problem with it.

“We do all that, too, but sometimes it’s good to go back to the books. Quieter. Slower.”

Why would anyone want to do something slower? Wasting time isn’t efficient. I should know. I’ve wasted plenty and have zero appearances at the Tech Reveal to show for it.

Tiav seems to understand what I’m thinking, even without knowing the specifics. “Slower doesn’t sound better, but really, sometimes it is. If you give your mind a quiet moment,
that’s when the best ideas come. Trying to write frustrates you, Liddi. I can see that. It takes a long time to say not very much. But you’ll learn. It’ll get easier, and
it’ll be worth it.”

He might be overestimating the mental capacity of my checked genes. And he has no way of knowing I don’t have an infinite amount of time to work in.

We eat lunch, where Tiav tells me about Ferinne’s first encounter with aliens—the Crimna. How both sides had to be patient until they learned enough of each other’s language to
get a point across…namely that the Crimna were just looking to make friends and the Ferinnes were happy to do the same as long as everyone kept some ground rules.

I get it. He wants me to be patient. He doesn’t get why I can’t, and I can’t explain it to him, and that just makes me
more
impatient and frustrated.

Back in the office upstairs, I still feel like punching the computer. Before that happens, an elderly woman comes to the door.

“Aelo, Shiin’alo needs you.”

Tiav looks at the clock, which presumably makes sense to him. “Right, almost forgot. This might take a while. Listen, Liddi, you’ll have the room to yourself, no pressure. Take the
time to write whatever it is you want to say. Okay?”

I nod, and he smiles before following the old woman to wherever his mother is.

It takes several minutes, but I do take the time to write what I want to say.

“Saw-ree. Im-pohr-tent.”

And I leave.

It’s another of the strangest things I’ve ever experienced, walking down a busy street without a single vid-cam tailing me. People glance my way, but a glance is all
it is before they move on. I look normal enough for a Ferinne, and with the Agnac, Haleians, and Crimna mixing it up, I’m downright boring. Tiav mentioned something called Izim, but maybe
they look similar to one of the other races, or I haven’t seen any yet. Either way, without Tiav, I’m background noise.

Tiav, who’s busy with his mother and thinks I’m busy with the computer.

The guilt squirms around in my bones. I lock it down and shove it away. This feeling as I walk through town is too precious. It’s liberating—a word I’m not sure I’ve ever
really understood until now. Here, I can be anyone. I can be no one. I can disappear.

Except that’s a lie. It doesn’t matter whether anyone knows who I am. I know I’m Liddi Jantzen. I have eight brothers, and I won’t let Minali keep them trapped forever to
lock in her fix of the conduits.

I came out here for a reason.

Back at the Aelo residence, I find Tiav’s streamer. It has no security lockouts, just as I thought when he brought me in days ago. I may not be able to read the symbols marking most of the
control surface, but I don’t need to. The main control is a touchscreen, and I caught the icon signifying the portal earlier. It might take a minute to locate it on the map, but I have
time.

Maybe I won’t need it. I drag the map just a bit to the left of Podra’s border, and there it is.

Or is it? I drag up a little bit more and find another one. Either I’m wrong about the icon, or finding a portal around here isn’t that much of a challenge.

If you found a portal high, if you found a portal low…

One way to find out. I tap one of the icons, brace myself, and close my eyes for the moving-fast-but-slow ride. It doesn’t take long, and I open my eyes again once the vehicle stops. I
can’t see the portal from here, but that’s no surprise. Not like the road is going to run right up to it. After double-checking the map for the general direction, I get out and start
walking.

I reach it easily enough. It’s not the same portal I arrived at—not the same bowl of hills, and there’s a small stream winding nearby. Doesn’t matter. The crystal spires,
the spark of energy hovering peacefully between them…it’s definitely a portal.

It’s so strange, the way the portals here are small, almost gentle-looking, compared to the terrifying maelstrom on Sampati. Part of me wonders why it’s so different, if it’s
to do with the spires or something else, but I don’t have any way of asking the Ferinnes. Even if I had the patience to piece together the words, I’m not sure I dare. Asking for details
like that could be a major mistake.

Someone’s always listening. Or in this case, some
thing
sitting in my throat is listening. Maybe.

If this works, it won’t matter. Once I get my brothers out, we’ll go home and deal with Minali. Curiosity will have to wait until later.

The portal may
look
tame, but the feeling as I approach puts the lie to that. I thought before maybe it was because I’d just traveled through it and was experiencing the
aftereffects. It’s still there, though, even now. The sensation of a sleeping giant, ready with a fist the size of a mountain if it’s disturbed.

And I’m about to disturb it.

First, I take the coiled tether from my pocket. One end gets wrapped around a spire and clipped onto itself. The other latches on to my belt. The strength of the portal might break it, but
it’s worth a shot.

The first time around, the what-to-do was obvious—run into the scariest thing I’ve ever seen as though I’ve completely disconnected from my brain. This time, it’s just
that little spark, and I’m not sure how to handle it. I step closer and reach toward the mote of light.

It flies to my hand, but rather than draw back, instinct spurs me to grab hold.

A sharp warmth charges from my palm through my arm and shoulder until it reaches my brain. More instincts emerge, only now I’m certain they’re not coming from inside me.
They’re coming from outside, going through my insides, telling me what to do. I need to think about what I want.

To get inside the portal just far enough to find one of my brothers. Not go anywhere. Just inside.

The thought only has to half-form, and I’m there. Back in chaotic death, back to having my molecules wrung out, back to the most pain I’ve ever known in my life.

And I stay there and I stay, floating and sinking with the pain, dying and waking and waiting, waiting, waiting.

Forever. A few minutes. A little longer.

“Liddi!”

It’s Marek. He’s still alive, and if he is, so are the others. He’s found me, and just like before, his presence shields me from some of the pain. But he looks as worn as Emil
did. That was days ago, and my brothers are still weak.

It might be because of the effort it took to bring me to Ferinne. It might be because Minali’s plan to make them a permanent part of the conduits is progressing. It might be both, or it
might be something else.

“What are you doing here?” he asks. “You can’t go home. Blake is dangerous, and she can’t find out about Ferinne. The people there know things about the portals.
You can’t let Blake find them. Be patient—we still have time. We know what she did to you. If you don’t speak, you’ll be safe—just don’t speak. She won’t
find you, and you’ll be okay. We’re learning things, things that might get us out.”

Get them out—that’s why I’m here. I don’t care what he says. We don’t have time for learning and deciphering and doing things carefully, and there’s no point
in me being safe if they’re not.

I wrap one arm around Marek and reach to my waist with my other hand. The cord is still there, solid and real. With an iron grip on my brother, I square all my thoughts on going back to Ferinne
and pull on the cord. Or try to. It slips along my hand. I can’t get any traction.

The pain Marek was blocking from me breaks through, redoubled and retripled. Lightning strikes my body, cutting me apart at the joints. Needles sprout from my spine and pierce me in all
directions. His muscles tense, holding tighter, and a new thought occurs to me.

Have my brothers been feeling this pain ever since they were trapped? Is every second I delay an eternity of agony for them?

“I—I can’t,” Marek forces out. “Not strong enough—others—too far. Can’t push you back myself.”

No, it’s not about him pushing me back. I have to pull
him
.

More focus. That’s what I need. I wind the cord around my forearm and yank. It slices through, cutting flesh, but we also move a little. I have no visual references to confirm that, but I
feel it, so I pull again.

It’s not enough. Ferinne is miles and light-years away. So are the other Points. We are Nowhere.

Marek tries to push me away, but I’m stronger than he is—a clear sign that he’s hurting. “Let me go, Liddi. It won’t work. You have to go back.”