The Star Dwellers (16 page)

My mom looks sad when I first see her, her
eyes wrinkled and tired, and her mouth thin and drooped. But as
soon as she spots us, her eyes come alive and sparkle—prettier than
the flowers that dot the gardens, prettier than Father’s servant
girls, prettier than anything—erasing the weary lines underneath
them. Her mouth sprouts wings and curls into a smile that warms my
heart and soul. “Tristan, Roc—I’m so glad you’re here. I was afraid
I’d have to tell myself stories all day. And that can get pretty
boring. Plus they’d probably lock me up for insanity.” My mom’s
smile somehow manages to get bigger as she talks.

I crack up and Roc giggles next to me. The
thought of Mom sitting there talking to herself seems funny for
some reason. “You can tell us the stories,” I say, right away
taking control of things.

My mom ignores me and looks at Roc. “It’s
your birthday, kiddo, so it’s up to you.”

That’s just the way my mom is. She treats
both Roc and me like sons, which is probably why I think of him as
a brother. I wonder what will happen tomorrow, when he’s not my
brother anymore.

Roc’s brown eyes light up in a way they only
do when my mom’s around, and he says, “I’d love a story. For my
birthday.”

Mom gestures with her arms and we sit next to
her, one on each side. She pulls us in close to her shoulders,
kisses us each on the forehead, and says, “Once upon a time, when
humans lived aboveground…”

We dream the rest of the day away in the
gardens, me, Roc, and my mom. It is a perfect day and I know it’s
probably the last one I’ll ever have.

The daydream fades away and I blink twice,
trying to come back to the real world. I glance sheepishly at Roc,
who’s still drawing, and Elsey, who’s still entranced in the
elegance of Roc’s pencil-strokes. They didn’t even notice I was
gone for a few minutes.

The woman looks different now, like my mom,
but not. Well, half of her is the spitting image of my mom—I’d know
her anywhere—and the other half is like a different person. It
is
a different person, I realize.

“Who…?” I murmur absently.

“
My
mom,” Roc replies, finishing off
the second half of her nose. She’s brown-skinned, like Roc, but
darker, with firm, toned muscles and full lips. She’s every bit as
beautiful as my mom, and they look right together, even when
combined to make one person.

My heart does a backflip. Because she died
giving birth to him, Roc’s never met his mother. My dad didn’t
believe in taking photos of servants, so Roc didn’t have the luxury
of a photo to guide his hand, but somehow I know that the picture
of his mom in his head is the right one, perfect in every way.

Like when Ben showed me Anna’s diary, I feel
so selfish again. Since my mom’s disappearance, I’ve felt like my
whole world is falling apart, and yet Roc has lived without a mom
for his entire life. And as a servant, while I didn’t want for
anything.

Now in this simple drawing, I feel the
breadth of his emotions pouring from the page. His love for my mom,
his living mother. And his love for his real mom, the one he never
met but wants to know.

His pencil is down and we’re all just staring
at his drawing, as if it might come to life and start talking to
us. “It’s perfect,” Elsey says.

“Yes,” I agree. “Simply perfect.” Roc’s smile
is worth every word.

E
verything seems so
close. The good, the bad, the neutral, the evil, the happy, the
sad. It’s as if the world is a thin line, everything in a row.
There is no wrong, no right: only actions. These are my thoughts as
I leave my mom in her office. Nothing is the same as it was
before—probably never will be. After all, there’s a gun tucked in a
holster in the small of my back beneath my tunic. The holster is
another gift from my mom. She offered Tawni a gun, too, but Tawni
politely declined. I suppose I could’ve done that, too, but that’s
not me.

Trevor is leading us again, following my
mom’s orders to escort us to the star dweller training grounds. She
said if I want to be part of the rebellion, I have to be trained
like a soldier. I like that she said that—it means she respects me.
Tawni will just be watching, and won’t be a fighter. My mom said
that on the record, Tawni will be considered one of her private
aides, but really she’ll just be with me like she has been since
the start of all this.

We exit the fortress-like building, this time
out the back, away from the claustrophobic city streets. The area
behind is cold, not temperature-wise, but stark, uncaring, a barren
wasteland of empty stone slabs and craggy gray boulders. Everything
is in black and white, or a mix of the two. It makes the Moon Realm
look like a paradise.

The expansive area is surrounded by a
towering brown rock wall. Whether its primary goal is to keep
rubberneckers out or the soldiers in, I do not know. “What is this
place for, the gladiators?” I say, making a bad joke. I remember
learning in school during history class about the Roman gladiators,
forced to fight each other and professional warriors to earn their
right of survival.

“Something like that,” Trevor mumbles, not
looking back. I can’t tell if he’s serious.

Across the grounds is a platoon of soldiers,
engaged in some sort of training—it appears to be hand-to-hand
combat. They’re wearing blue training tunics, which don’t look that
much different from their standard-issue fatigues, complete with a
faded patch of the star dweller symbol on the shoulders, although
they seem slightly more worn-out. They’re separated into pairs,
each pair battling within the confines of circles designated by red
tape on the ground. There aren’t any patterns to the pairings:
males fight females, big battles small, tall locks horns with
short. I can’t expect special treatment here, and I don’t.

Only two people aren’t participating, a man
and a woman who are set off from the fighters, watching and
shouting things like, “Keep your head up, Lewis!” or “Don’t let him
back you into a corner, Matthews!”

As we approach, I see a smallish woman get
flipped over the back of the ogre she’s fighting. Her body hits the
stone with a sickening
thud
, and I can’t help but to cringe.
Tawni visibly stiffens beside me and I glance at her. She’s not
even looking at the woman’s prostrate body lying on the ground;
rather, she’s watching as another guy takes blow after to blow to
the head, twisting and turning, until his legs wobble and he
collapses, blood oozing from his nose and mouth.

“So brutal,” she whispers.

My heart is in my throat. I’m well-trained,
too, but these guys are serious, professional warriors. I take a
deep breath and try to remember my father’s lessons.
Never show
your fear, Adele.
Gritting my teeth, I firm up my expression
and try to turn the horror on my face into a believable scowl.

Trevor turns suddenly, a wicked grin on his
face. “Good luck, soldier,” he says, motioning me forward.

Ignoring him, I stride past and up to the
woman supervising the training. She’s tall and muscular, wearing a
tight black tank top, camo pants, and sturdy, black boots. She’s
looking past me, almost as if she’s looking through me, but I
ignore that too. “Adele Rose, reporting for training under the
orders of General Rose,” I say, keeping my voice as firm as
possible. I extend my hand and she finally looks at me, and then
down at my hand.

“Get that limp fish out of my damn way,” she
says, one edge of her upper lip raised in a sneer. Her eyes are
dark and steely and look like they could kill. Her face isn’t
ugly—even with the sneer—but it’s not pretty either. It’s just a
face.

Dumbstruck, I drop my hand back to my side,
unsure what to do or say next. Luckily, the guy next to her says,
“Sergeant Buxton, where are your manners?” He lifts an open hand
and I take it, following his arm up to his face, which wears a
casual smile and kind, blue-green eyes. “I’m Sergeant Sean Brody,
but you can just call me Brody,” he says, shaking my hand firmly,
but not crushing my fingers.

“I’m—”

“General Rose’s daughter—I know. We’ve heard
all about your strange appearance in the tunnels. In any case, the
General told us yesterday that you’d be joining us.”

My heart stops. “She did?”

“Yes—is that a problem?”

My mom is just full of surprises. She really
did expect me to join the star dweller rebellion. Proud heat rises
in my chest. “No—not at all,” I say.

Brody releases my hand and runs his fingers
through his dark bangs, pushing them away from his eyes. “Are you
ready to start?” he asks.

“I, uh, I guess,” I say, my confidence waning
as I hear the grunts and groans of combat from behind me.

“Are you or aren’t you!” Sergeant Buxton
shouts, directly into my ear.

I cringe and turn away from her. “I’m ready,”
I say through clenched teeth.

Tawni has moved off to the side with Trevor,
and I can see the two of them chatting, flashing smiles, and
occasionally laughing.
Traitor
, I think.

“Han! You’re up!” Buxton yells. Evidently she
has difficulty controlling the volume of her voice, because she’s
always about a hundred decibels louder than necessary.

A dark, Asian-looking girl’s head pops up
from where she’s got another girl pinned to the ground. She
releases the girl and trots over, not even looking winded from her
fight. “Yes, Sergeant,” she says.

“Rose, get in the circle,” Buxton growls.

My heart hammers as I walk across the hard
stone, wondering what it will feel like to get slammed against it.
The girl whom Han was fighting rolls out of the circle, face
bloodied, apparently unable to stand up.

“At ease, soldiers!” Buxton shouts from
behind us. “Feel free to watch the show!”

Great,
I think. The last thing I want
is an audience for my first fight.

The other soldiers pull themselves up from
various levels of peer-inflicted injuries and make their way over
to our circle. Out of the corner of my eye I see Tawni and Trevor
move closer. Tawni’s no longer laughing, her mouth a tight line.
She’s worried about me.
Serves her right
, I think.

Instinct and training kicks in. I settle my
heart and lungs by taking deep breaths through my nose, exhaling
from my mouth. All of my father’s mottos ring through my head:
hit first and hit hard; a quick fight is a good fight; there’s
no such thing as a fair fight; play to your strengths.

But all my thoughts vanish when the taunting
begins. “You smell like a moon dweller, chickie,” a guy with a
black eye says. “You a moon dweller?”

My mouth is tight as I nod.

“We’ve been looking for some moon dwellers
with balls to join us, but you don’t look like you’ve even fought a
cold before.” I grit my teeth and try to ignore him, focusing on my
opponent, who has just stepped into the ring, her fists clenched at
her side. She looks ready; I hope I am.

“We need moon dwellers who can fight,” a
butch woman with no neck cries.

I stare at her sharply and say, “I can
fight.”

The original heckler chimes in again. “Bah!
You’re just a scared little girl, not a fighter.” He got the scared
part right. But not scared of fighting. Scared of losing those
closest to me; scared of failing my parents, my people; scared of
not fighting well enough for everything that is important to
me.

“I’ll prove it,” I say.

“Fight!” Buxton shouts, even louder than she
has yet. Her voice echoes through my ears, and I don’t think I’ll
ever hear well again.

Han is like a flash of light, faster and more
agile than anyone I’ve ever fought before. But I’ve got a few
inches on her, am built slightly bigger, and I have the advantage
of not underestimating her. My father taught me to use any
advantage I can in a fight.

She moves in fast, feinting left and right,
left and right, trying to lull me into a rhythm. She whips a
lightning-quick kick at my head and I duck sharply, narrowly
avoiding it, but realizing too late that it was a combo move. Her
other leg is already in motion, sweeping the ground and cutting
toward my feet. I try to jump, but all my force is pushing down and
I can’t get my feet off the ground. A sharp pain jolts through my
ankles and I go down hard on my right shoulder, wincing as I feel
it start to throb.

My training kicks in and I know the fight is
moments away from being over if I don’t get out of the vulnerable
position I’m in.

I roll hard to the side, away from Han, and
hear her boot clomp down hard on the rock, just where I was a
second earlier. My mind is machine, thinking like my opponent,
anticipating her next move.

She’ll expect me to try to get to my
feet.

So I don’t.

Instead, I roll back the other way.

My surprise works, as I feel my turning
shoulder bash into her legs, which are moving in the opposite
direction of my roll. She was rushing to stop me from getting to my
feet, trying to maintain her advantage. The joke’s on her as she
tumbles over me, sprawling head first. More pain lances through my
shoulder and I realize it’s the same one that hit the ground. Bad
luck, but I can’t worry about that. Not now.

Gritting my teeth, I will my body to ignore
the pain and move faster than I’ve ever moved before. I finish the
roll and use the momentum to push up with my legs and one arm,
regaining my feet. In the back of my mind I know there are people
watching and that they’re making a lot of noise, but my head is a
void, focused on only one thing: winning the fight.

Using my heel, I stop myself and charge back
the other way, where Han went down. She’s scrambling to her feet,
but I can tell from her wide eyes and slightly parted lips that
I’ve surprised her. I see fear. Another advantage I can use.