The Star Dwellers

Shortly, I reach an opening to the right, the entrance to a spiral staircase. The tu

One hundred and twenty-five steps later I reach the top. Although the door is metal and heavy and thick, I can hear the buzz of activity beyond. As usual, I’m late to the party.

Slowly, I pull the door back. The murmured conversations grow louder as I enter and close the door firmly behind me. From the VPs, I get a few glances, a few frowns, and even a few smiles. All I get from Ram is a disgusted upturned lip from the corner of the room. Vice President Morgan is at the head of the table again, with Ben next to her. I round the table toward him even before he beckons me with an open palm.

Along one of the long walls is a large screen, which wasn’t there earlier in the day, but, at the moment, is displaying only white fuzz.

The instant my butt hits the seat, Morgan says, “Order!” and thumps her fist twice on the table. The murmurs die down quickly and those who are standing—except for Ram—take their seats. Although Morgan is speaking, most of the eyes are on me, and even when I look away from them to focus on Morgan, I can feel them on my face. Heat rises in my cheeks, but I try to ignore it so it’ll go away.

“We only have a few minutes before we go live with the other moon dweller VPs,” Morgan starts. “As you all know, the star dweller leaders will be watching, too, so keep that in mind. We are in a difficult position, because we don’t have a majority opinion prior to involving the Star Realm, which I don’t think any of us wanted, but they’ve left us with no choice. The cease-fire will expire at the same time tomorrow, so we need to reach an agreement quickly, and this is the only way.” I’m thankful for the recap, since I left the last meeting before all of this was discussed. No one speaks as Morgan pauses to take a sip from a coppery jug of water.

“Now, I want to reconfirm our position to ensure everyone is still in agreement. After hearing from Tristan Nailin earlier…” she says, and I cringe when I hear my last name spoken out loud. My father has made me ashamed of it. I want to be Tristan. Just Tristan. “…we all agreed that he is telling us the truth and wants to help the Resistance overthrow his father, and that we could use his help to convince the other VPs. Given we have all had additional time to think about it, are we all still in agreement?”

The room is silent and I’m afraid to take my eyes off of Morgan to scan the faces around the table, but I know I have to. I have to show I’m not hiding anything—that I meant what I said earlier. I turn my head and gaze around the room, lingering on each VP’s eyes, not flinching from their stares. I’m doing my part, in an odd sort of way.

With every person I look at, I expect them to shout “You’re a fraud!!” but they don’t. They just look back, some nodding, some seemingly indifferent. After a few minutes of silence, Morgan says, “We’ve got one minute. I need positive confirmation of your positions. Abbott, I’ll start with you.” The woman to her right says, “I’m with you.”

As they move around the table, each VP affirms that they’re on our side—on my side. I’m still shocked by the incredible turnaround from earlier, when their words were harsh and their expressions harsher.

When they get back to Morgan, she nods at me encouragingly. “Okay, here’s how this will go. I’ll begin and then hand over to Tristan to speak. Then the other VPs will have the chance to ask questions, make comments. Understood?” She’s talking to everyone, but only looking at me. I jerk my chin down. I’m more than ready for this. I’ll do anything to help stop my father.

“Right. We go live in three, two, one…” Clearly some technician is watching the proceedings because suddenly the screen goes all white and then flashes back to life, as the picture comes into focus. At first there are raggedy lines of static ru

The screen is made up of a series of boxes, each with a live shot of one of the VPs. Evidently the meeting was called on such short notice that there was no time for any of them to gather together. As I scan each of the faces, I recognize most of the leaders, but if it wasn’t for the names at the bottom of each box I wouldn’t remember them. There’s Bruce and Quinton, Perez and Morrison, Winters and Queen. Oh, and I notice Ogi, too, the Vice President of subchapter 14 of the Moon Realm. Adele’s subchapter. Ben’s subchapter. He’s a sheep, one who will follow my father off the edge of a cliff. There’s no way we’ll be able to get his support.

Altogether there are thirty boxes, twenty-nine for the moon dweller VPs and one for the Star Realm. The Star Realm’s box is the biggest, located at the bottom right-hand corner of the screen and the height and width of four of the other boxes. Across the bottom of the box it reads “Star dweller generals.” Not the star dweller VPs, but the generals. The military is making the key decisions in the Star Realm. Things are even worse than I’d thought.

A number of people are seated across a table, staring at the camera, seven in total. Three women, four men. I take in their faces, trying to remember if I’ve ever met them during my visits to the Star Realm. Gazing at the first six I draw a blank—they’re just faces with vague features—but the seventh…the seventh looks familiar for some reason. A woman, perhaps mid to late thirties, hazel eyes that look sad but intense, dark, dark hair, jet-black and beautiful, and features that appear soft at a first glance, but harden the more you look at them. There’s something about her that—

My heart stops when I realize. The end of my thought was reminds me of Adele. Vice President Morgan is speaking but I don’t hear her, my eyes locked on the seventh star dweller general. Unwillingly, my eyes close and I picture the woman next to Ben. They look nothing alike, but when I add my last memory of Adele—her green eyes shining with confidence, her soft but strong cheeks so pale and beautiful, her lips pink and parted slightly, all framed by the cascades of obsidian hair rippling around her shoulders—into the gap between them, they are somehow co

And then Morgan is speaking directly to me, her eyebrows raised slightly. “Tristan? Would you care to say a few words?”

I don’t know how many times she addressed me while I was daydreaming, but all eyes are on me, and more than a few of them are looking at me strangely. Although I’m flustered, my training kicks in and gets me started. “Yes. Thank you all for coming,” I start, trying to buy some time while I find my words. I force my eyes away from the bottom right corner of the screen, away from the woman who might be Adele’s mom, alive and well, not in some star dweller prison, a general in the freaking star dweller army, but my gaze keeps coming back to her. It can’t be her—it can’t. She’s in prison. Not a general. Not possible.

I pause, my thoughts tumbling over each other like a team of acrobats, flipping and spi

My eyes dart to the big man sitting next to me, and beneath his well-trimmed goatee I see a slight smile. His eyes aren’t on me, but on the screen, and I don’t have to follow his gaze to know what part of the screen. His gemstone-like green eyes—that remind me so much of Adele—are wide and watering and full of emotion. It is her; the intensity of his eyes all but confirms it. He’s looking at his wife for the first time in months, knows she’s okay.