Navigating the Stars Page 2

  What I’m certain of is, I’ve been living on Warrior planets all my life, but I’ve never seen anything like this before. Excited, I rush out to get my dad. He’s sitting at the table, sipping coffee and reading from his portable. My mother is at the counter.

  Dad spots me. “You’re up early.”

  “Come on.” I tug on his hand. “You have to see this!”

  He follows me to my room.

  Mom trails after us. “Lyra, did you stay up all night?”

  Her tone is disapproving so I don’t answer her. Instead, I sweep my hands toward the octagon with a flourish. “Ta da!”

  Both my parents gape at it in stunned silence for a solid minute. My father reaches toward it, but I stop him.

  “It’s not dry.”

  He snatches his arm back as if he’s been burned. When my parents still don’t say anything, I say, “This is important. Right? Something different?”

  The silence stretches. Now it’s getting weird.

  “Yes,” my mother says finally. “Different.”

  “Lan said her mom, Dr. Maddrey, would want to see it.”

  “Oh, yes,” my dad says. His voice is rough. “I expect there will be lots of people who would want to see this.”

  There is a great deal of excitement from the scientists in our base over the strange object with the rows of markings. Theories about them fly faster than a Crinkler engine through space. The one that generates the most gossip is the possibility that the octagon is an alien Rosetta Stone even though it’s made of the same baked clay as the Warriors. Lan’s parents are put in charge of figuring out the mystery.

  “I hardly see them,” Lan complains one night.

  She’s lying on her bed and I’m sitting on her chair as we listen to Diamond Rockler. His voice is like honey— smooth with a thick sweetness. Rockler’s heart-melting lyrics fill the small room as a video of him plays on her screen. He’s talented and gorgeous and intelligent— that’s just not fair. Some people don’t even get one of those qualities.

  “If anyone’s going to figure out what it means, it’s them,” I say. Frankly, I wouldn’t mind seeing less of my parents. They’ve been asking me to join the crews of people searching through the million fragment piles in hope of finding more octagons. More data, more data, my mom’s always saying. They’re drowning in data, but no one’s made any connections. I think they have too much data, but that’s me.

  “Messages were sent to the other active Warrior planets,” Lan says. “The other language experts might have some ideas on how to translate it and they’re all looking for their own Rosetta Octagon.”

  “As long as it keeps everyone busy,” I say, smiling.

  Lan sits up. “Lyra Daniels, you’re not thinking-”

  “I am.” I insert my tangs into my ears and access the Q-net via the two sensors that were implanted in my brain when I turned ten A-years old. Staying entangled in the Q-net for long periods of time is flirting with insanity. So everyone must be able to completely disentangle. It’s the reason terminals are needed to interact with the Q-net. It’s funny, to me anyway, that the terminal is a bland plate built into the desk. It’s some type of rare metal, but otherwise it’s boring in appearance.

  Lan’s terminal has the same limits as mine, but I’ve learned how to mask my identity and bypass a few security barriers.

  “You’re going to get into trouble,’ Lan says. But it doesn’t stop her from inserting her own tangs to trail me.

  “Don’t you want to find out who Belle’s been hanging out with?” I don’t listen to her answer. Instead I concentrate. I view the Q-net as a sphere with a zillion layers, like a universe-sized ball of yarn. And, while I’m blocked from most of the layers, I can find...holes...in the security, almost by feel—it’s a strange sensation— and wriggle into an area that I’m not “technically” supposed to be able to access. We call it worming.

  Video feeds from the cameras around the base pop up.

  “Oh my stars, Lyra! You’re going to end up in detention if security discovers you.”

  “Big if. Look, Mom, no ripples.”

  “How did you…” She sighs. “Jarren, right? He taught you? You’re getting better at worming.”

  I scan the images. People bustle through the hallways. Some stop to talk. The labs techs are busy doing whatever they do. No sound. That would be too creepy. And no cameras in private units. That’s an invasion of privacy.

  “Found Belle.” I hone in on the camera in the canteen. “She’s flirting with that chemistry tech— what’s-his-name.”

  “Trevor, but he’s too old for her. He’s like twenty-three A-years,” Lan says. “How do you know she’s flirting?”

  “She’s flipping her hair and eyeing him as if she wants to eat him for dessert.”

  “For dessert? Really? That’s gross.”

  “Ah youth. So innocent.”

  She smacks me on the arm with her pillow. “And you shouldn’t be spying on your friends.”

  “Oh? Should I spy on someone else?”

  “No.” She pulls out her tangs. “We should be planning Jarren’s surprise sixteenth birthday party.”

  I groan. “That’s not for another hundred and eighty days.”

  “Planning,” she says with authority, “will be the key to success.”

  I disentangle from the Q-net and we brainstorm a few ideas. “I think we should have it in a spot he’d never suspect,” I say. “Like the middle of a hallway. Or outside the base!”

  Just then, Dr. Maddrey pokes her head into Lan’s room. “Have you finished your school work?” she presumably asks Lan, but she gives me a pointed look when Lan shakes her head no. Dr. Maddrey leaves the door ajar when she retreats.

  My cue to leave. “Better get going, I’ve a physics test tomorrow that I need to ace now that I’m applying to Brighton University.”

  “It’s two years until the next Interstellar Class ship, what are you going to do for that extra year?” Lan asks.

  “I think I’ll intern in a bunch of the labs and see if anything catches my interest. Chemistry and biology might be fun. Dr. Nese says he always needs help with keeping the weather instruments clean.” And any chance to go outside is always taken. “I’m sure I’ll find plenty to do.” Even if I have to spend the year reconstructing damaged Warriors. It’ll be worth it. And once I get my degree, I could be assigned to a colony planet and interact with normal people.

  Lan bounces on her bed. “And my parents already agreed that we can attend the university together even though I won’t be eighteen yet!”

  The best part. We share a grin. Then I wave a goodbye to the Maddreys and return to my housing unit. The place is empty. Not a surprise, my parents have been busy with the new find.

  I settle next to the terminal and access the physics lectures. After two hours, I’m doing head bobs and my stomach growls. However, my parents are still not back. I check their work schedules—yes, they’ve given me permission—to see if I should wait to have dinner with them or just go to the canteen. Scientists tend to get engrossed in their work so the base has a cafeteria for those too busy to cook a meal. I’ve seen techs carrying trays back to labs for their bosses.

  They both have late meetings and a few “evening” appointments. It doesn’t matter that Xinji’s sun is still high in the sky, every single colony planet and Warrior planet, as well as the people traveling in space ships, all follow Earth’s clock. Days have twenty-four hours. Years have three hundred and sixty-five days (yes, we do the leap years as well). The base’s lights and window shutters are programmed to keep Earth time. However, we stopped using the names of the months and days— that would be silly. Instead, we track the year and day. Today is the three hundredth and fortieth day of the year 2471, otherwise referred to as 2471:340.

  I was born on 2337:314, and I’m seventeen Actual years old, which means I’ve lived seventeen of Earth’s years. But since I’ve traveled to two different planets and made two time jumps, one hund
red and thirty-four E-years have passed during those seventeen years I’ve been alive. Boggles the mind, doesn’t it?

  I scan my parents’ agendas idly, noting it’ll be a couple days before we have another family meal. Odd that they should be that busy. And why are they meeting with Dr. Gage and Dr. Jeffries tomorrow, they don’t normally interact. I straighten as my heart sinks. My guts churn as I study their itineraries, trying to dismiss my suspicions. When I reach 2471:360, I’m on my feet. I yank my tangs out and sprint from my room.

  I’m breathless by the time I reach the archaeology lab. My mother is in her office with Dr. Bernstein. He’s a meteorologist. What the heck? I interrupt them. Manners are the least of my worries.

  Mom’s annoyance changes to concern when she sees my face. “I’m sorry, Ben. Can we finish this later?”

  “No need, Ming. You’ve already convinced me.”

  My mother shakes his hand. “I’ll send you the contract.”

  “Great.” He gives us a jaunty wave.

  Mom’s polite demeanor drops as soon as he’s out the door. She shuts it and turns to me. “Lyra, what-”

  “Tell me we’re not still going to Yulin,” I practically shout.

  “Of course we are, why did you think we weren’t?”

  “Because of the find. I thought you and Dad would want to study it.”

  “It’s exciting, but other than authenticating and dating it, it’s not our area of expertise.”

  “But…” A tight knot forms in my throat, cutting off the rest of my protest.

  “That’s why we have linguists and cryptologists, Lyra. And I’m hoping the find will allow the Warrior Project to hire more. Besides, Dr. Natalia can handle directing the techs with the reconstruction of the damaged statues on Xinji and searching for more octagons. We’ve uncovered all sixty-four Warrior pits and found no other artifacts alien or otherwise on Xinji. But on Yulin…” Her eyes shine.

  I stop listening as despair claws at my heart with its sharp talons. The pain is making it difficult to breathe.

  We’re leaving.

  We’re really leaving.

  And there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

  I’ve no memory of the trip back to my room. It took every bit of effort not to burst into tears. But once alone, I dive onto my bed and cry into my pillow. Lan and I will never attend university together. She’ll have to plan Jarren’s party without me. I’ll never see her again.

  When I gain control of my emotions, I message Lan. She takes one look at me. “What happened?”

  By the time I spit out the news, we’re both crying.

  “This is worse than before,” she sniffs. “It’s just cruel to give us hope and then yank it away.”

  I agree. “To be fair—I know, not helping—but my parents never said we were staying. I just assumed we would.”

  “So did I.” She wipes her face. “I’ll let our friends know it’s back on.”

  “Thanks.”

  Why is it when you’re dreading something, the time just flies right on by? I swear I blinked and my last twenty-one days on Xinji disappeared. The Interstellar Class space ship entered Xinji’s orbit today—the dreaded 2471:360. I’ve a day left before I board the shuttle. It only takes me an hour to pack my stuff.

  Now all I have left to do is attend my funeral.

  Two

  2471:360

  The children of planet-hopping parents have figured out long ago that, despite being able to communicate with our friends left behind via the Q-net, the time dilation is too hard to overcome.

  The math just isn’t in our favor. It will take me ninety days to reach Yulin, which is fifty E-years away. That means Lan will be sixty-six A-years old (that is, if she remains on Xinji) when I arrive, while I will only be ninety days older. Yeah, it sucks. Which is why we hold funerals for the person leaving and cut all ties. It’s easier for all of us.

  The adults don’t know about the funerals and every effort is made to keep it that way. Otherwise the psychologists would descend on us en masse.

  This will be my second funeral—I was too young when we left Ulanqab. If only the explorers would stop exploring. Each time they—the Department of Explored Space (DES), which was formed when interstellar travel became possible—expand the edges of Explored Space, they discover yet another exoplanet with Terracotta Warriors, which wreaks havoc on my social life. Overall, I know it’s a good thing. They also find exoplanets without Warriors that are potential candidates for colonization. Earthlings and their drive to seek new worlds for their ever-growing population... plus the constant need for resources because Earth is tapped out.

  It’s just hard to adapt. There are plenty of people out there who relish the adventure of being time travelers, but I’m not one. Or I don’t think I am. I’ve never been given a choice and that sucks the most. I’ve no living aunts or uncles or grandparents. There’s a couple of my fourth or fifth cousins living on a colony on Planet Beta, but I’ll never meet them. Phoenix is a memory. He wouldn’t let me come to his funeral. We both knew I’d sob through it and unhinge his efforts to remain stoic. Leaving us cost him just as much as it hurt us.

  Heck, it takes a toll from everyone, and our idea of family and our traditions is just not the same as those who stay in one place their entire lives. We are Earthlings, but we have no emotional connection to our ancestors or cultural traditions. Instead, we have our own warped research base traditions like the annual desk chair race and landing day celebrations.

  I carry a bag through the narrow and featureless corridors of Xinji’s Central Base. It’s basically a giant rectangle. It resembles Wu’an’s base, which resembles Ulanqab’s, which resembles Taishan’s. You get the idea— one size fits all. I was born on Planet Ulanqab and my brother on Taishan. A tightness circles my chest. Will Phoenix think of me when he gazes up at the stars when he reaches Earth?

  The soch-area is filled with bright colors, soft pillows, big couches, thick carpets, entertainment cubbies, screens on the walls, the clean scent of baby powder and a couple facilitators—a.k.a. babysitters—who ensure we all play nice. All residents under the Actual age of eighteen are required to spend the same two hours a day in here. Most of the younger kids stay much longer, but those of us sixteen and older prefer to hang out in other locations. Like the kissing zone. I smile when I spot Lan standing close to Jarren. Belle is staring at Jarren as if she’d like to strangle him, her face almost the same color as her bright red hair. Knowing Jarren, he probably deserves it. He’s gotten into more trouble than the rest of us combined.

  With a tilt of her head, Lan indicates the back game room. All the kids know that room is for the older teens for the next two hours. After that, anyone can use it. I follow Belle inside. Cyril is already there. He’s all legs as he lounges in an armchair and his black hair is buzzed short. Jarren and Lan come in soon after. That’s it for our age group. A grand total of five.

  Lan shuts the door. Privacy is an illusion and we all instinctively glance at the cameras. The babysitters can watch us, but not hear us.

  “Relax,” Jarren says with a smirk. He flips his shaggy brown hair from his forehead, revealing his light brown eyes. “I’ve been taught by the best.”

  Jarren can’t let an opportunity go by without gushing over his friend, Warrick Nolt, who Jarren learned all his worming tricks from back when they were on Planet Kaiping together. We all give him an exasperated look.

  “Don’t worry. The babysitters are watching our required soch-time from twenty-one days ago,” he says.

  Ah, that explains why he’d messaged us with instructions on what to wear today and for Cyril’s recent haircut. Not that we had a ton of clothing options— mostly just hand-me-down jeans, sweatshirts, T-shirts, and sweaters—it’s cold on Xinji. But anything is better than the nerdy jumpsuits and lab coats the adults wear. I tug my black sweater over my waist. The color is fitting for the occasion.

  Lan takes up position in front of the large screen we use fo
r gaming—all Q-net activities must be visible during soch-time so the babysitters know we’re socializing and not ignoring each other. The others sit in chairs, facing her. I have the position of honor and settle into the oversized armchair next to Lan. Setting my bag down on the floor near my feet, I try to relax.

  As my best friend, she is in charge of my funeral. “We are gathered here today to remember our friend Lyra Tian Daniels.”

  Before you ask, Tian means “sky” in Chinese.

  “When I first met Lyra, I hated her.”

  I glance at her. This is new.

  Lan flashes me a smile. “When I arrived here from Planet Heshan, I thought she was perfect. With her glossy black hair that didn’t have a hint of frizz, no pimples and hazel eyes, I called her the Warrior Princess since she resembled the Chinese Warriors.”

  Over the years, lots of people have commented on how much I look like my mother. When they mistake us for sisters, Mom preens and is quite obnoxious about it.

  “I despised her on sight,” Lan continues.

  Interesting. I’d no idea.

  “Then I made the mistake of talking to her.” Lan sighs dramatically. “And it was impossible to hate her. She went out of her way to help others and she also had the audacity to prove that she wasn’t perfect. Oh no, she was far from it.”

  “Thanks,” I say with plenty of sarcasm.

  “Hush,” Lan scolds. “You’re not allowed to talk.” She taps a long finger on her cheek. “Where was I?”

  “Not perfect,” Jarren says helpfully.

  “Right. Along with her delusion that Diamond Rockler would pick her over me to marry, Lyra has a number of faults. Remember the time we all had to clean out the lavatories for seven days because Lyra wormed into the base’s security?”