Bright Star Page 10

  Baruj jumped from the ship and ran to me.

  I waved him off with my good arm. “Grab Ben. He’s lost a lot of blood.”

  Ben’s breathing had slowed over the minutes, becoming faint and distant. The stain around him faded from a garish crimson to light pink; the merciless desert drank his blood. Baruj ripped off a section of his robe and tied it around the remains of Ben’s leg, cinching the fabric down with a yank.

  I sat up slowly, careful not to bump my arm, and pushed myself to my feet. My right arm hung limply from my shoulder, loose and disconnected from the rest of my body. The villagers began racing down the ridge toward me and Baruj.

  Cantara ran past me, straight toward Baruj and Ben. “You found them? Your brother?”

  Baruj’s face drew tight. “My brother’s back there.” He gestured to the east side of the ridge where Naeem lay in a halo of reds and pinks. Cantara gasped.

  “Help me get Ben up.” Cantara grabbed Ben by the waist, and Baruj held him by the arms. They dragged him into the ship.

  I took a few slow steps toward the ship, but my knees threatened to buckle beneath me.

  God put courage in my heart.

  The rest of the villagers wandered down. I saw Miriam standing next to the doctor, her eyes sharp slits above the hard line of her lips. Her mouth curled into a quick, uncertain smile. Ghazi and a few of the other elders were there as well, but many more, like Asif, were nowhere to be seen. They wore ancient guns at their hips, their shoulders laden with rounds of brass and lead ammo. They moved, their limbs silent, natural, right. Their skin may have been distorted, but they were far more human than the soldiers that lay still on the ground.

  Ghazi offered me his arm, and I took it gratefully, steadying myself. “Thank you,” I whispered.

  “This was not for you, child,” said Ghazi. “With luck, these Central bastards will never find Bawiti.”

  “Is Asif still there?”

  Ghazi nodded. “He is taking care of everyone who chose to stay behind.”

  “Where are you headed?” Miriam asked.

  I started to shrug, but the searing pain in my shoulder made me rethink that simple motion. “I don’t know.”

  A younger man I didn’t recognize, his shoulders encased in scarred lumps that pressed against his shirt, stepped forward. “Wherever you go to fight Central, we’ll go.” The crowd of faces nodded in agreement.

  I didn’t want to fight Central. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I didn’t want to hold a gun or watch people be killed. I only wanted Papa back, but I remembered the harshness of his voice to Captain Berings.

  There is nothing out there for me.

  There was nothing here for me either, but there was no way I could return to Samalut, no way I could return to Amina, or Mrs. Nagi,, or Timothy. Central would be waiting for me there. I had to keep moving forward.

  I didn’t want to fight Central, but they wanted to fight me. And I would fight back with everything I had.

  “Get on the ship,” I said, harsher than I meant. The villagers straightened up at the edge in my voice and entered the ship in an orderly line. I brought up the rear, holding my head high to try to shut out the pain in my arm.

  The narrow entry opened up into a seating area that doubled as the mess hall. Rows of gray chairs lined the room. Webbed shoulder harnesses dangling lifelessly at the sides. It was crowded, stuffed with the dozen or so villagers. They stood aimlessly, staring at me, waiting for more direction. I didn’t give any.

  Two passages led out of the mess hall. A wide, arched opening sat to my left, lined with blue lights, and a narrow tunnel lay on my right. I opted for the left side first, which opened into the bridge. The bridge was barely a third of the size of the mess hall, and instead of rows of chairs, there were only five, widely spaced with a console at each chair controlling navigation and the engines. The wall before me was blank and smooth—a view-screen. Papa leaned over one set of controls, tearing out wires. If it had been anyone else fiddling with the ship, I would have worried that it wouldn’t run. I stood on my toes to try to get a better view of the room. I twisted the silver ring on my finger. Miriam was nowhere to be found. Ghazi, the angry, hooked-nose elder, stood next to Papa, arguing. He wanted the villagers to stay on board the ship, travel with him. Papa wanted them to go back to their homes.

  “Don’t you see we can’t go back? Not for long, anyway. They know about us. They know where we are. We won’t be safe until they’re all gone.”

  Papa’s face reddened. “I had a deal with Captain Sorensen. Three people, and now I have fifteen! How do I explain that?”

  “You’ll have to throw us off yourself,” said Ghazi. “I’m going to tell everyone to strap in.”

  The argument got more heated as I walked closer. I paused, unsure whether I should leave or speak up. Papa’s attention turned from the mess of wires at hand for a moment, glaring at me. “What do you want?”

  “I thought I could help.”

  He frowned. “You’ve helped enough. You need to stay out of the way while I’m working.”

  “But—”

  “I need to focus. You probably need to find the doctor, right?” He motioned to my arm, which still throbbed, then turned back to the wires on the floor. The conversation was over before it even started. I opened my mouth, to scream, to ask for just a moment of his time. Hot tears stung my eyes. I turned and stormed out of the bridge before they could betray my thoughts.

  My whole body shook, from anger, frustration, and fear. I had worked hard—so hard—gone further than I ever knew I could, and all for Papa. I had a Papa who pushed me away and a mother who didn’t know me.

  I buried my face in my hands for a moment, hiding the tears. A hand touched my shoulder, making me wince. I hastily dried my face and turned.

  The angry elder, Ghazi, stood next to me, his face no longer hard and unfriendly. “What’s wrong?”

  I pulled his hand off of my arm. “It’s injured,” I shot back. “That’s all.”

  He stared at me, his small, green eyes peering over a hawk-like nose. “It’s not only your arm. I wanted to apologize for my harsh words. Cantara and Asif explained to me—”

  “They don’t know everything,” I said, bitterly.

  “They knew more than I did. I should have been more patient with you. You’ve shown real courage.” He smiled, but it was sharp, a face not used to smiling.

  “I don’t want courage.” I pushed down the sobs that bubbled up in my chest. “I want my family.” Ghazi looked as though I had hit him in the stomach, but I didn’t care what he thought of me. I wanted my friends back. I wanted to know Amina and Timothy and Mrs. Nagi were safe. I wanted a family. If courage meant going through everything I had over the last week, or losing trust in Papa, then I wanted none of it.

  There was at least one person on the ship I could still turn to. I strode back into the mess hall, looking for Baruj. The villagers sat quietly, staring at their ancient guns, the edges wood and metal instead of the dead, gleaming green plastic of the ifrit guns. They talked in low, unsteady voices. Baruj was not among them.

  The small, dark tunnel at the far end of the mess hall beckoned to me. It was a sharp change, going from the brightly lit mess hall down the tunnel, and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. I kept my left hand against the wall, feeling my way until my eyes grew friendly with the dim light. There were doors all along the corridor, shiny green things, each labeled with a purpose. Supply. Engineering. Weapons. Toward the end of the hall, one door stood open, light spilling into the dim area.

  I strode down the hall, wincing every time I moved my arm. My shoulder was definitely dislocated, and my arm was probably broken as well. I held it stiffly against my side, weary of the slightest jostle. Slowly, exhausted, I made it to the door and peered inside.

  Dr. Hennet, the one who had treated me and Baruj earlier, hovered over an exam table, Ben’s incomplete body stretched below. Baruj’s shirt, secured around Ben’s leg, wa
s already soaked with blood. Ben was unconscious, his breaths quick and shallow.

  The doctor barked orders, focusing his complete attention on Ben. “Baruj, grab the plasma. Cantara, hand me the suture gun. Miriam, find the antibiotics.” Baruj, Cantara and Miriam danced around the room, throwing open the drawers and cabinets to find what the doctor needed.

  Dr. Hennet paused, noting my face peeking though the door. “Good, an extra set of hands. I need you to irrigate his leg.”

  I stared dumbly for a moment. Irrigate his leg?

  “Rinse it off,” said Miriam gently. “Dr. Hennet can’t close the wound with sand or grit in there.” She handed me a squeeze bottle and a towel. I began pouring water on Ben’s leg, sending rivers of red streaming. I put the bottle down and grabbed the towel with my good arm, dabbing Ben’s leg to catch the falling blood. My stomach churned at the sight of his destroyed flesh.

  I bit my cheek. I can do this. I can help Ben. I swallowed my queasiness and continued rinsing the wound.

  “Step aside,” Dr. Hennet said. I moved, relieved to stop touching Ben’s maimed leg. I felt lightheaded, the coppery smell of blood filling my lungs, so I propped myself up against the wall to keep from collapsing.

  “You did a good job,” whispered Miriam.

  Dr. Hennet stuck a needle in Ben’s arm and hooked a bag up to it. “He’s lost a lot of blood.” He grabbed the suture gun and a scalpel, and cleaned Ben’s wound, sealing the torn vessels.

  I felt myself grow fainter, so I turned away. Naeem lay lifeless on the ground outside. Ben lay in here, clammy and motionless.

  “Are you well?” asked Miriam. I shook my head. How could I be well?

  “I need some air.” Miriam nodded, turning her attention back to helping the doctor. I stumbled back into the corridor and slumped against the wall. Baruj followed, sat down beside me, and rested his head on my shoulder. His arm was still puffy and swollen from the dog bites, but the broken flesh had already closed into a shiny pink layer of new skin. Was that only yesterday? I struggled to process everything that had happened in the last week. I shut my eyes, trying to remember the feeling of my warm bed in Samalut, the comfort of safety.

  That comfort was gone. I felt my sleeve grow damp. Baruj was crying softly, tears rolling down his cheeks.

  “Is it Naeem?” I asked quietly.

  “It’s everything.”

  I nodded. I could understand that. I clasped his hand and squeezed.

  “What happens now?”

  He sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t know.” He shuddered a little and wiped his nose on his sleeve.

  “Should we go back to the bridge?”

  Baruj lifted his head. “I suppose I need to. Unless you’re secretly a pilot.” He rose, dried his eyes, and ran his fingers through his hair. He reached to help me up, but touched my injured arm. I stifled a scream. He dropped his hand immediately.

  “I forgot. You need to have the doctor take a look at that.”

  “After he’s done with Ben. Ben will be fine, right?”

  Baruj sighed. “I hope so.”

  Miriam leaned out the door. “You two headed back to the bridge?”

  I nodded.

  “I’ll join you.” She grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze. Her face tightened into an uncomfortable smile. “I suppose I have to speak to him eventually.”

  It took me a moment to realize the ‘him’ was Papa. Miriam closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and marched forward.

  We walked silently back to the bridge. It was empty save for Papa. A pile of wires lay on the floor, and he tapped swiftly on the ship’s touch screen.

  “I think that did it. I have the tracking and com systems rerouted. Central shouldn’t be able to find us. Not through their usual methods, anyway.” He looked up, his eyes widening as he saw us walk into the room.

  “Miriam.”

  “Yes,” she said simply.

  “It really is you.” Papa took a step forward, reaching toward her, but she took a step back.

  “You’ve raised her well, you know,” she said. “She’s beautiful.” I felt my cheeks flush, and Papa glanced at me for a moment.

  “She looks like you.” His eyes crinkled at the corners, and he took another step forward.

  “I’ve moved on, Henri. Erik—”

  “Who?” Papa’s eyebrows scrunched.

  “The doctor.”

  The doctor? I shook my head. My parents were supposed to be together. We were supposed to be a family.

  Papa straightened, holding his chin high. “I understand. Eleven years—”

  “Twelve,” Miriam corrected.

  “Twelve.” He pursed his lips. “I shouldn’t have assumed anything.”

  They both stood there, staring. The moment was so uncomfortable, I blurted, “Where are we headed?”

  Papa stared through me, tightening his lips. “Same place we were headed before the Bright Star crashed. The Galileo.”

  “Where?”

  “If you bothered studying your history, you’d know,” he snapped.

  I started to protest, but before I could say anything, Baruj leaned over. “It’s the oldest orbital colony,” he whispered.

  I couldn’t understand anything for a moment. The low mutterings of the villagers buzzed from the mess hall, and I could hear my pulse racing in my ears. Orbital colony? That meant...

  That meant Papa had planned to leave and not return. Papa had planned to leave me the whole time. I meant nothing. My stomach sank, and my skin felt chilled. I tried to think of something to say, anything, to show I understood this new reality, but my words left me.

  It didn’t matter if I could have found the words to explain myself. Papa turned his gaze from the floor in front of me and Miriam to a steady glare in Baruj’s eyes.

  “You’ve been trained on the 3000 series?”

  “Some. I know the 2000 series better.”

  “There aren’t many differences.” Papa was in his engineer mode. “Controls are mostly the same. The 3000 has a slightly different docking sequence. Here.” He grabbed Baruj’s shoulder. “Let me show you.”

  The two were quickly absorbed in the minutiae of hovertech, going through their flight plan. There was nowhere on the ship for me. I thought of Dr. DeWitt, of Timothy. Would I be able to call them once we were in orbit? I doubted it. I wanted to call Timothy now, hear his warm familiar voice. I wanted to talk to Dr. DeWitt, try to understand what my Papa was doing.

  My knapsack felt heavy and useless on my back. This was made for a journey through the desert, a journey to a papa who welcomed me with open arms. I stared at him, but his face was bitter and cold, focused on explaining the nav system. There was no welcome there.

  Miriam tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear and smiled. “He’ll come back around,” she said.

  I wasn’t so sure.

  I heard footsteps behind me, and craned my neck over my shoulder. It was Cantara, her shirt splattered with drops of blood.

  “I think the other man will live. Dr. Hennet seemed hopeful.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You need to see the doctor, too, yes?” She stared at my arm, hanging limply at my side. I stared inward at my heart, breaking slowly.

  “You’re injured?” asked Miriam.

  I nodded. “Yes. I do need to see the doctor.”

  We stood in silence at the opening of the bridge.

  Papa cleared his throat and pressed a button on one of the consoles. “I’ll need everyone to find a seat and strap in. We’re about to lift off.” His voice echoed through the ship, strong and authoritative.

  A cheer went through the villagers, echoing down the passage between the mess hall and the bridge. They didn’t know how Papa didn’t want them there, either. It was better that they didn’t know.

  Baruj sat, shoulders squared, in front of the main controls, in the dead center of the bridge. I found a chair at the edge of the bridge and strapped myself down. Cantara sat to my right, pul
ling the harness down over her own head, and Miriam took the seat to the right of her. Papa sat on my left, staring straight ahead.

  “View-screen on,” said Baruj.

  The entire wall before me glowed, showing an image of the desert ground. Bodies littered the sand, pink and red with blood. With the ExoShells on, it looked like grasshoppers lay quiet, but I knew the blood was human, the insect-like bodies human. I blinked back the tears forming in my eyes. They were only Central soldiers.

  Baruj tapped a few more buttons on the control console. “Begin auto launch system.”

  The ship vibrated beneath us, trembling and quivering with the excitement of the launch to come.

  The ship roared as it began its ascent, first a few meters from the ground, then a kilometer. I could see the desert rush away, the bodies fade into dark specks.

  “Enable the destruct sequence, Baruj,” ordered my father.

  Baruj nodded, then tapped a few buttons on his console. Below us, on the ground in the valley, where so many had fallen, a bright white light lit the desert.

  “Destruction successful,” Baruj said. The light dimmed, and I could see the Bright Star no longer sat on the desert floor.

  “There were explosives on the Bright Star,” I said, remembering Colonel Marwasi’s words.

  “Yes,” Papa said. “In case Central caught up to us. That way our contacts wouldn’t be compromised.

  The Colonel had told the truth—at least part of it. I had assumed it was all lies, but now I wasn’t sure what to believe. Papa’s face turned toward mine, but I snapped my eyes forward to the view-screen ahead.

  The ground turned into a homogeneous sea of white, then the clouds appeared, layers of thick, white sheets filling the sky.

  We rose above the horizon, and I could see the gentle curve of the Earth. A blue-green sea licked the northern edges of our desert, and as we continued to rise, continents and oceans appeared before my eyes.

  “Sadira?” Papa called to me, his voice soft and low, the same voice he’d used when he promised he’d be home for my birthday. I didn’t turn my head.

  “I want to explain something to you. When the Captain had you—I had to call his bluff.”

  “You would have let me die.” The words were bitter in my mouth.

  “No. Well, that was a risk. I thought Dr. DeWitt would come, darling. I never thought—”

  “Don’t call me darling.” My right arm dangled uselessly, painfully from my side. I was not darling to him. He was no longer darling to me.

  “Look at me when I speak to you.” His voice was firm, no longer reconciliatory.

  Against my will, I turned my head. He glared at me, his brown eyes blazing.

  “You are small, Sadira. You are one person. This is bigger than you.”

  Though I had tried to harden my heart, the words cut. Nothing had been bigger to me than Papa. I had tried so hard—I whipped my head forward, determined to hide the tears, bite back any sobs.

  “It’s bigger than you. It’s bigger than me. What I’m doing, it’s not for one person. It’s for everyone down there.” He pointed to the view-screen in front of us. The Earth was a sapphire, glittering blue, round, still, and gentle.

  “This is for everyone up there, too.” He gestured with his hands to the ceiling. “Central has done some bad things. I’ve done some bad things, in their name. I can’t stand by anymore, Sadira.”

  “I’ve been in contact with the captain of the Galileo. She’s going to help me—going to help us. We have a plan. We’re going to stop Central. I wanted to tell you, but I had to keep you safe. You’ve seen how they are. That captain wasn’t the worst. They want to kill—”

  I remembered Ben’s story. “They want to kill people like the badlanders.”

  Papa let out a low sigh of relief. “So you understand.”

  I did understand. Dr. DeWitt had explained his story to me, how he had hurt so many people, but Dr. DeWitt hadn’t hurt me in the telling.

  The ship turned away from the quiet blue of the Earth to the darkness of the sky. The view-screen blackened, then the coal-colored background glittered. Stars, thousands of stars, littered the black blanket of the sky, glowing and shimmering. In front of us a giant metal tube spun slowly, cold and distant, with faint red lights blinking at its ends.

  That was it. That tube, the Galileo, it would replace Samalut, replace all the places I’d known in my life. My room would not be there. After hearing Papa argue with Ghazi, I doubted they would welcome me. They expected soldiers, engineers, fighters, not a scared, uncertain girl.

  The metal cylinder kept twirling, alone in the black sky. Alone. The next steps I took would be alone.

  “The Galileo,” Papa said. “Welcome to your new home.”

  Acknowledgments

  As with any book, there are so many people who helped to make this possible. First, I have to thank my editor, Kelly Hashway, for doing such a fantastic job. Next are my critiquing partners—Mary, Lindsey, Tyrean, and Shreyonti. Their constant feedback during the writing process kept me motivated, gave me new ideas, and helped me make this story as good as it could be.

  A special thanks to both my mother and mother-in-law for reading through my story and giving me support. Your words of encouragement kept me going when I felt that the editing would never end.

  And finally, a big thanks to my husband, who listened to me ramble every night about this world I created. You were with me every step of the way.