The Second Rebel, page 25
“Mierda…” I run my hand through my hair—far too long and curling up at the back of my neck.
“Or,” he goes on, “we can turn ourselves over to the Icarii and die brutally terrible deaths.” He shrugs, the gesture as sarcastic as his words. “Up to you.”
“Not much of a choice,” I mutter.
He smiles in a way that crinkles the corners of his eyes. “You’re right that we’ll have to be clever. Turning ourselves over to the Icarii without achieving either rebellion or peace accomplishes nothing.”
I shake my head because that wasn’t what I meant, but before I can respond, an Aster appears at the doorway.
“Ir priyus ika,” he says, but the only thing I understand is the verb wait. He disappears back into the glowing tunnels.
“Come on,” Sorrel says, standing from Ofiera’s bedside. “It’s time to go before the Elders.”
Sorrel offers me one of the lanterns from Ofiera’s room so I can see in the tunnels, but though the glowing plants are dim, they’re enough for me to walk by. We leave the lantern behind. Sorrel leads the way. Like Anemone, he seems to know where he’s going.
“Did you already get a tour?” I ask. Even if he was here two hundred years ago, Vesta has surely changed in all that time.
“No, but this is an Aster settlement, and I don’t need to have been here before to know where I’m going.”
“How?”
“There are a lot of things about Asters that humans don’t know.”
Humans, he says, instead of siks. Is it strange that he thinks of us so differently? “I was told that you can hear really well. Is that how you’re leading me around—you hear the Elders up ahead?”
He flashes me the grin of a proud professor to an unruly student who can sometimes offer surprises. “No, but what else do you know?”
Now I really do feel like I’m back at the Academy. “Asters can maneuver and survive in any gravity. Their bone density adjusts and can even regenerate after time in space. Their skin filters out the space radiation from cosmic rays, though it’s overly sensitive to light, or EM radiation. They can see and hear really well in the dark, and they prefer to live and work in large communities.”
“Why do you suppose that last one is?”
I don’t know why I’m humoring him by answering. Curiosity, maybe. “Because humans are shitty toward you all, so you band together.”
“From a sociological standpoint, that makes sense.” Sorrel stops at a doorway that leads to a larger room. “But what about our genetics, Lito? Think deeper.”
“The first explorers from Earth found that space had a tendency to drive man a bit mad,” I guess. “Being stuck in enclosed spaces with people long term made them clash. Alternatively, being alone in space made them depressed. There’s no harmony in that.”
“Good! So, if you were a geneassist, how would you solve that?” Sorrel asks, and when I fall silent thinking, he adds, “I don’t expect you to guess this one.”
“Alter your genes to make you nicer,” I say with a shrug. “But I know that’s not the answer when you’re such a bastard.”
He barks a laugh and slaps me on the shoulder. “I am certainly one of the meanest Asters you’ll ever meet,” he admits. “But no, the initial geneassists had a very clever solution.” He gestures to the walls, to the plants and the insects flitting about. “We’re like them.”
I watch a bee-dragonfly hybrid zip by overhead. “Them?”
“We can communicate with pheromones as well as words,” Sorrel says, and I jerk my eyes back to him to see if he’s shitting me. But no, his face says that he’s telling the truth. “While we’re certainly a community of individuals, we are just as much a hive that, in some ways, functions as a single organism. We can smell when someone is dishonest. Can sense when they’re attracted to us or afraid of us.
“Among Asters, we can adjust these pheromones to tell someone basic things. Like Walk this way, or I’m sorry. We can project our emotional state and, at the same time, ask for help. We find contentment in being with others who can send us feelings of safety and comfort. Of oneness.”
His words, more than anything, make me realize how cruel the Icarii have been to him. They separated him from other Asters so that he’d never feel that sense of communality. Even with Ofiera, he must feel cut off from others, losing one of his innate senses, unable to properly communicate.
But then another thing dawns on me. “It kind of sounds like a neural implant.”
Sorrel smirks. “Where do you think the Icarii got the idea? That was the original reason Asters were useful in Icarii experiments.” His face falls. “Now come on. We’ve made them wait long enough.”
We pass through the doorway and into a cavernous, high-ceilinged room. Inside, a few lanterns have been lit, spreading their light like miniature stars so I can see perfectly, only I can barely believe my eyes.
There are hundreds—maybe even thousands—of Asters in the room, all pressed together and facing the same direction. The oddest thing is the silence. They don’t speak a word. Don’t shuffle from foot to foot. Even their breathing is quiet, as if they’re stone statues, an extension of the cave.
Sorrel leads me through the packed Asters, and they part like a school of fish before a shark. Eyes follow us, but no one whispers in surprise at the appearance of the Harbinger, gone for the past two centuries, if they know him at all. We head to the front, where a dais waits. Standing atop it are three older Asters in blue half cloaks, one of which I recognize as Anemone. We halt in front of the crowd, and Sorrel drags me to his side by my wrist.
“We’ve come as requested,” Sorrel says, his voice bouncing off the stone walls and echoing throughout the room for all to hear. “I beg of the Elders to speak aloud, so that our visitor may understand.”
Anemone looks at her fellow Elders with a question on her face, but she reads something in them that I can’t. The pheromones that Sorrel mentioned, I realize. When she steps to the edge of the platform, she pulls her hands behind her back and addresses the crowd. “The Elders decree that we will speak in English, so that our visitor may understand our words.” She speaks softly, and yet everyone can hear her because of how unearthly quiet the room is.
If I didn’t know any better, I’d wonder if the Asters around me were even breathing.
“Across the system,” Anemone begins, “the Icarii have issued warnings for any who would harbor the criminals Lito sol Lucius, Ofiera fon Bain, and the Aster known as Sorrel.” I flinch, but Sorrel is steady at my side. “These criminals are now here, among us on Vesta. This, the Icarii know. Even now they are heading this way, come to demand the return of these fugitives. We gather together now to decide what is to be done with them.”
“Don’t speak unless asked to,” Sorrel whispers in my ear, but I don’t know who he thinks I am. I’m not about to interrupt.
“On Venus and Mercury,” Anemone continues, “the Icarii have enforced curfews for our people. Any found outside of their homes during these times are arrested. Those suspected of helping these fugitives—indeed, any suspected of working alongside the Aster known as Hemlock—have been detained without answers as to their release.
“The incarcerations have been many. Several of our people have also reported home invasion and unwarranted violence. In total, we have reports of two dozen hospitalized in these unauthorized raids and two dead after a struggle broke out in Tesla Gardens on the top level of Cytherea. There is talk on Spero of ‘tagging’ Asters, of issuing subskin chips or bracelets that identify Asters by a number. As we know, if Spero adopts the practice, Cytherea will follow.”
When Anemone finishes, I find my breath coming quicker. All of this violence happening across the universe, and now Vesta is forced to deal with us…
“Consideration has been paid to requesting Gean aid in this matter,” Anemone says, “but we recall what happened when we trusted them on Ceres.”
Many nod at this, expressions growing hard. She doesn’t mention another thing: with the current cease-fire, I’m not sure the Geans would step into an Icarii operation and break that fragile peace.
“So that leads us here…” Anemone holds a hand out. “Some have asked that we remove Lito sol Lucius and Ofiera fon Bain from Vesta, as they are not Aster and thus not our responsibility.” She raises the other. “Others have requested that we harbor them, though this would undoubtedly lead to more violence against our people.”
Sorrel stiffens at my side, determination written all over his face. They speak of his rebellion, now within reach…
“Before we make our decision, I wish to hear from those involved.” Anemone’s eyes fall to Sorrel and me. “What would you ask of us?”
Sorrel dips his head before he addresses them. “Recognized Elders, I beg you to consider the fate of my wife, Ofiera fon Bain, as one entwined with mine. She and I share the same heart. The same soul. To turn her out would be to turn me out.”
Another one of the Elders speaks. “Do you mean to say that if we send Ofiera fon Bain from Vesta, you will depart with her?” they ask. “Because that hardly seems like a problem when the Icarii request you as well…”
“I would go with her,” Sorrel confirms, and though the Elder who spoke doesn’t change their expression, a smug aura rolls off them. “However, I request that you consider the Law of Life.”
The Elder’s shoulders sink as Anemone speaks. “All life is sacred. All life is equal. For we are all born from the same stuff as stars.” Many repeat the last phrase after her in a mix of Aster and English. The sound is electric after so much silence from the crowd.
“And you?” Anemone looks directly at me now. “What would you request of us?”
Sorrel looks at me expectantly, and I dip my head as he did. “Recognized Elders,” I begin as respectfully as I can, “whatever your decision, I will honor it. If you wish for me to leave, I will. I even understand why. You’re already dealing with violence against your people on Mercury and Venus, and I never wanted to make it worse.”
“Your intentions hardly matter,” the Elder who spoke before says, “compared to the reality of the situation.”
“Let him finish,” Anemone barks.
“My only request,” I say, my heart pounding harder as more faces turn in my direction, “is not for me. I beg you to consider allowing Ofiera to stay with Sorrel. While you may not know her and while she may not be your responsibility, Ofiera has been fighting for the Asters alongside Sorrel for… years.” I look over at Sorrel and am surprised by the softness of his expression as he stares back at me. “It’s in large part thanks to her that I see the world as it really is, with my people taking advantage of and mistreating yours. It’s thanks to her that I’m even standing here. And if Ofiera were here to speak for herself, she’d make the same offer to leave you in peace that I do. But she can’t make that request, because she almost died saving Sorrel. Saving me. So… I want her to be able to stay with Sorrel and the Asters. She and Sorrel… They can’t—they shouldn’t be separated. If anyone deserves a safe haven, it’s them.”
No one speaks when I finish. All is silent except the ringing of my ears.
Then Sorrel takes my hand in his. “I amend my request,” he says. “If you turn out Lito, I will go with him. May his path be the same as mine.”
I jerk my gaze to his face. “Are you insane?” I whisper, despite the overwhelming relief I feel at his standing up for me.
Sorrel winks at me.
The mouthy Elder scoffs, but Anemone holds up a hand to cut them off before they can speak. “We have heard all we require. Now we will debate,” she says, and the three Elders step to the back of the dais and huddle together.
The silence returns.
Sorrel and I say nothing as we wait. I feel as if I should thank him, and yet this moment feels important, like any sound at all would shatter the concentration of the Elders. And, despite this being a debate, they say nothing either, whatever discussion they’re having being completed through their expressions and, most likely, their pheromones. I shift from foot to foot, settling in for a long wait, but when Anemone approaches the crowd again, it hasn’t been more than five minutes.
“The Elders have debated and have reached a decision.” Anemone looks again to Sorrel and me where we stand below her. “We will harbor Lito sol Lucius, Ofiera fon Bain, and the Aster known as Sorrel on Vesta. We will not turn them over to Icarii authorities.”
I brace for protest, but unexpectedly, the room remains quiet. A few nod along with Anemone’s words, but no one looks upset by the decision despite its potential to bring hell down on them. Even the mouthy Elder seems content.
Without a word, it’s over. Anemone dips her head and turns her back on the crowd, joining her fellow Elders in leaving the dais.
As soon as they depart the platform, the room erupts into chatter. The majority speak in Aster or gesture with their hands. I’m sure they’re also debating with their pheromones in ways that I can’t make out. A handful near me continue to speak in English, as if inviting me to join them. But I focus on Sorrel.
“You throwing your lot in with mine… that was risky.”
Sorrel seems to glow in the lantern light. “Was it?” he asks, and I remember that look in his eyes when he spoke of the upcoming war.
A chill like the cryo pod overwhelms me. My mind struggles to rationalize the two Sorrels I’ve seen—the man who rammed glass shards into a duelist’s eyes is the same whose soft hands patched my wounds. The Aster who looks at Ofiera with love but speaks of battle with the fondness of a past lover… and I can’t help but wonder, what wouldn’t he do to get what he wants? What worlds wouldn’t he crush to see his own grow? Who wouldn’t he kill for his people to live?
I force myself to speak around the growing lump in my throat. “I have to know… Was it to save Ofiera or to trigger a war between the Icarii and Asters?”
Sorrel looks in my direction, his pupils narrowing into sharp dagger points. “Is there a difference?”
CHAPTER 21 ASTRID
It is a wise man who listens when his enemies speak, but it is a fool who believes their talk blindly. We will accept the Icarii cease-fire, but creating a lasting peace will be a far more difficult proposition.
Warlord Vaughn to his admirals
On our flight back to the Temple, I relate my conversation with Aunt Genette to Eden. She bristles with a mixture of fear and anger, but the exhaustion from the past few days comes crashing down on me, and I beg her to put this discussion off until later. When she stalks away from me to the Sisterhood dorms, I briefly wonder who she is rushing off to report to, but I am too tired to even ask, much less follow. Back in my room, I collapse in my bed. I want nothing more than to sleep.
I fall into the black with open arms. My dreams are a haze of feelings, mere impressions of emotions with no imagery. When I wake, Ringer is standing over me.
“Get up,” he says. “You’ve rested enough.”
I throw my legs over the edge of the bed, toes tentatively settling on the cold stone. A knock comes a moment later, and my gaze shoots to Ringer. I still do not understand him. Understand us. Did a part of me sense someone at the door and wake me up? Is that what Ringer is, a subconscious part of me that comprehends my surroundings on a level I cannot?
The knock comes again. “Stop dawdling,” he says. “Answer the door.”
I do as he bids, running my fingers through my tangled hair in hopes of making myself presentable. I could not even hazard a guess at the time.
I half expect another Little Sister with a message, or perhaps Eden come to finish our discussion, but it is Lily, holding herself rigid, brown doe eyes swallowing me whole, whom I find on the other side of the door.
“Come in,” I say, closing the door behind us.
“Can I sit?” she asks, making her way across the room one stiff step at a time. Limping, almost.
“Of course. Are you well?”
Lily grasps the arm of the chaise lounge and lowers herself onto it. I suddenly recall the sight of her body in the showers, the white scars over her joints, in addition to her irritated skin. “As well as I can be,” she says. “Some days hurt more than others.”
I frown.
She changes the subject before I can ask more. “Eden told me everything. She’s not thrilled you accepted the bargain with Aunt Genette.”
I follow her path to the chaise lounge and settle beside her. “I got that impression, but I felt it was the best course of action under the circumstances.”
“I trust your judgment.” Her eyes hold such honesty. Such trust. Why? Because Aunt Margaret told her to help me? Because I can give her what she wants?
I look at her. At her heart-shaped face. At her small, upturned nose. At the faint freckles on her cheeks. Most of her hair is bluntly cut in a bob to her chin, but her bangs are freshly styled in that way she likes, choppy fringe across her forehead.
Before I can stop myself, I brush my fingertips between her freckles, connecting them in a constellation all her own. Her cheeks brighten at my touch, tinting the soft pink of a rose petal. I’m surprised to find it is a good look on her.
She sucks in a sharp breath as I pull away, as if my touch hurts. One of her hands—clear of pale scales today—goes to her cheek. “Do I have something on my face?”
“No, I was simply thinking of your beauty.”
“Me?” Her face burns brighter. “Beautiful?”
I nod because it is simpler than the truth. I have trusted so little in my life, I cannot say that in this moment, looking into her eyes, I feel like I glimpsed a part of her soul. That I know her and understand her.
“I… thank you.” She clears her throat. “But I came to tell you something… Something important about Aunt Genette’s properties.”
The world leaks back in at her words. I swallow against my own anxiety. “What is it?”
“I know you promised not to look into any more of Aunt Genette’s dealings, but I’ve found something… disturbing.”
