The Star Dwellers (22 page)

“Mep’s Law,” he says.

I’m getting bored of this conversation, which
is beginning to transition from somewhat silly to laughably loony.
“Listen, you little punk,” I say, stepping forward. Immediately,
about twelve feet are planted in a circle around Mep. Some of the
kids have pea shooters, some slingshots, and all wear fearsome
glares. Well, maybe more comical than fearsome, but still, under
the flickering glow of the candles, it’s somewhat intimidating,
especially because I’m hopelessly outnumbered.

So what do I do?

No surprise there—I fight.

Three kids are down before they even know
what hit them, my foot arcing through the orange light. I take a
little strength off the kick, as I want to intimidate the buggers,
not kill them. The other kids drop their weapons and run for the
door. I let them go. Like I said, my tactics are for intimidation
purposes only.

I fake a punch at Mep’s face and he flinches,
throwing his hands across his face in defense, as if that could
really stop my fist. I know I’m just being cruel now, but I don’t
care. I’ve had enough.

“Give me the packs,” I growl.

“I think we might have gotten off on the
wrong foot,” Mep squeals.

“Give me the
freaking
packs. NOW.”

“Okay, okay, they’re right here,” Mep says,
reaching behind his back and retrieving our two packs. He hands
them to me and retracts his hand quickly, as if he’s afraid I’ll
claw him or something. I check each bag to make sure nothing’s
missing. Stale wafers. A handful of leftover Nailins. Some
clothes—our only spare clothes. No canteens, but that’s because we
chucked them away when they were contaminated. All there.

“Thanks,” I grumble sarcastically, making for
the door.

“Wait a minute, please.” I stop, but don’t
turn around. “Why don’t you stay a minute and have something to eat
or drink.”

“I’ll pass,” I say.

“I want to make you an offer,” he says, his
voice going up in excitement.

“You can’t possibly have anything I want,” I
say, although I am curious as to what the little guy has to
say.

“Just five minutes,” he says. “Take a seat.”
He motions to another cushion, and grudgingly, I place it in front
of him and sit down. “Thank you, I appreciate it,” he says.

I just stare at him. This day is getting
weirder and weirder.

“Some protectors they are,” he says,
motioning to the door. I sense movement to my left and I jerk my
head to the side, seeing the three kids I kicked to the ground
sneaking for the door. When my gaze catches theirs, they break for
it. I laugh as I watch them go.

“They did all right,” I say, massaging my
sore shoulder.

“They’re good kids,” he says, at which I
cringe, again remembering the kick in the head. Noticing my
reaction, he says, “They
are
. You don’t know what kind of
lives they’ve had—where they come from.”

“That’s just an excuse,” I say.

“I like you,” Mep says. I raise my eyebrows
in surprise. It’s not what I expected him to say to the girl who
penetrated his defenses, accused him of stealing, and beat up his
gang of minions. “I do,” he says, flashing me a smile. He’s
boyishly cute, with dimples in each cheek when he grins, piercing,
turquoise eyes, and messed up brown hair.

“Why?”

“Because you’re tough—like me. You don’t
survive in this world without being tough.”

“I’m not from this world,” I say. “I’m a moon
dweller.”

“I guessed that much,” he says with a wink.
“But I wasn’t talking about you. I was talking about me.” I stare
at him for a second, letting his words sink in.

Oh.
The Star Realm. I wonder what
tragedies have occurred in this boy’s life that he would end up
legless, an orphan, master to a bunch of kids who steal for
survival. I want to ask him, but know I cannot.

“You don’t want to hear my story,” he says,
as if sensing the question on my lips. “It’s not a happy one.”
Unlike the other children, who sound rough, with harsh language
from harsh upbringings, Mep is well spoken, seems mature even.

“You speak well,” I say, hoping he doesn’t
take it the wrong way.

He seems to like that, his eyes opening wide.
“My mother always…” He trails off, his eyes going misty.

“Your mother always what?” I prod.

He looks away and then right back at me. “She
always read to me when I was little. Taught me how to read, to
write. Made me smart. She’s still taking care of me, even now.”

I’m not sure I understand. I assumed he was
an orphan, but maybe I was wrong. “What do you mean?”

Waving a hand, he says, “Oh, not like you
think. She’s not around anymore. But the kids around here feed me,
cloth me, practically worship me—all because I can read them
stories.” He motions to the corner and my eyes drift to the spot.
There’s a stack of old books that I hadn’t noticed earlier, with
worn covers and broken spines.

It all suddenly makes sense. Mep gives the
children in this place a chance to escape from the horrors of the
real world, to places where there are happy endings, where heroes
really do exist, where parents are alive and take care of their
kids. My vision blurs and I blink furiously before I return my gaze
to Mep.

I change the subject. “How’d you know I was a
moon dweller?” I ask, choosing a safer question.

He laughs. “It was obvious the moment you
chased after my gang of misfits,” he says. When I raise an eyebrow,
he explains. “The people here are broken, their bodies, their
spirits. They don’t even think we’re worth the energy. One of my
kids grabs a loaf of bread off a passing cart and they barely
react. You, on the other hand, it was like I’d stolen your
baby.”

Now it’s my turn to laugh. Remembering the
items in my pack, I realize I probably did look a little crazy
chasing after a bunch of kids for our meager possessions,
particularly when the star dweller army evidently has significant
resources at their disposal.

Mep’s face is still lit up, as if it makes
him happy to have put a smile on my face. “I’ve got to get back,” I
remember, letting my thoughts flow freely. “My friend…”

“You haven’t even heard my proposal.”

Oh, yes, this great offer he has for me.
“Make it quick.”

“Be my bodyguard,” he says, his eyes
twinkling under the candlelight.

I sigh, pretend to consider. “And what’ll I
get in return?”

“Food, shelter, information.”

“What kind of information?” The food and the
shelter are covered by the army, but information is something I
haven’t been getting a lot of lately.

He grins, like he knows he’s got me now. “I
know most everything that happens in this town. Anything in
particular you’re after?”

“How’s the army getting so many supplies?” I
blurt out.

“Nothing’s free,” he says.

“I’m not going to work for you,” I say.

“I didn’t think so, but a couple of Nailins
might do the trick.” He’s rubbing his hands together, like he can’t
wait to feel the smooth weight of the gold against his skin.

I reach in one of the packs and flip him two
Nailins. I see the face of the president flashing in and out of
view. Tristan’s father.
But not like Tristan
, I remind
myself.

Mep snaps them out of the air with
unexpectedly competent hand/eye coordination. He bites down on the
gold coins like he doesn’t believe they’re real. “I haven’t seen
one of these in a long time,” he muses, his eyes greedy.

“The information,” I say.

“Right. I’m not sure if this helps, but
there’s a supply truck that comes in every week, on Mondays. They
back it up right against the loading dock so no one can see what
it’s carrying. If you find out where the truck comes from, you
might be able to solve your mystery.”

“Thanks,” I say, moving for the door. “And
Mep…”

“Yeah.”

“Hang in there. Change might be coming faster
than you think.” Before leaving, I grab the bag containing the last
of our wafers and toss it to Mep. These kids need it more than I
do.

Mep grins as he catches it, like he knew I’d
see things his way in the end. “Farewell, my fair maiden,” he calls
to me as I exit.

I’m no fair maiden. And this is not one of
the hero- and adventure-filled worlds from the pages of the books
that Mep reads to the kids. No, it’s nothing like that at all.

As I navigate my way to find the stairs, kids
duck into doorways, hide in the shadows, watch me the whole way. My
heart is sick. It shouldn’t be this way. Kids running wild, forced
into a life of crime. We have to do something for them. And it all
starts now.

The only problem: when I exit the crumbling
building, Tawni is gone.

R
am finds Roc before
we do so I’m glad to see he hasn’t been pulverized. Maybe Ram’s
decided to take it easy on us because it’s obvious something really
bad has happened.

Or maybe not. “If you get lost again, sun
boy, I’ll destroy you,” he says to Roc before handing him over to
us.

Roc just stares at him, and I can tell he’s
thinking getting destroyed by Ram might be a good thing. It might
take his mind off of what he’s just found out.

“What the hell do you think you’re looking
at?” Ram says, and I think for a second Roc might lash out at him,
but to my relief he breaks the stare, and moves past me with his
head down.

As I move to follow him, I hear Ben ask,
“Where’d you find him?”

Ram laughs condescendingly. “He was near the
edge of the eastern border. If he’d managed to get out into the
broader Moon Realm, he’d have been a sitting duck for some star
dweller soldier with a chip on his shoulder.”

I’m too far away to hear Ben’s response, as I
jog to catch up with Roc. “Roc,” I say, “wait up!”

He ignores me and keeps walking. “Roc!” I try
again.

“Leave me alone,” he says, bringing me up
short. I watch as he disappears around a bend in the tunnel. I want
to chase him, to force him to talk about things—I desperately need
to talk to him about all this—but I let him go. He’s never asked me
to leave him alone before, and it scares me. But I have to respect
his wishes—have to give him time to come to terms with what my
father told us.

Ben catches up with me and I’m glad to see
Ram’s not with him. “Why’s that guy hate us so much?” I ask.

Ben shrugs. “He doesn’t trust people easily,
especially sun dwellers. But believe me, he’s a guy you want on
your side.” I believe him. Ram’s the last guy I’d want to face in
combat.

Nodding, I say, “Roc won’t talk to me.”

“Give him time.”

“How much time?”

“A few hours.”

“He’s already had a few hours.”

“A few more.”

“Okay.” I don’t want to wait a few hours, but
I’m glad he didn’t say a few days. I don’t think I could go that
long without talking to my best friend, my half-brother. Especially
with all this crap on my mind. “What do we do next?”

“Vice President Morgan has arranged a meeting
with the other Vice Presidents who she believes will support us in
a motion to join the star dweller rebellion. I need you there to
help us convince them.”

“What if I can’t?”

“Then we’re screwed,” Ben says honestly, and
I raise my eyebrows.

“Great.”

We both continue in silence, the only sound
coming from our boots as they scuff and scrape along the rough
tunnel floor, broken up only by the tap of Ben’s walking stick. He
says his wounded leg is okay, but he’s limping heavily and seems to
be relying on the staff. We come to a crossroads, and where we’d
normally veer right past our sleeping quarters or toward the common
area, we slip left down a broad corridor.

“Shortcut,” Ben says when I glance at
him.

The gray rock walls continue to widen as the
pathway heads uphill. Moisture trickles down the walls from the
ceiling. As we move further along, the tunnel levels out, and the
walls are fully slick from the rivers of water sheeting down them,
pooling along the sides. Thirty feet later the puddles cross the
breadth of the tunnel floor and meet in the middle. Our boots slap
and slosh through them but still we don’t turn back.

When the water level nears the tops of my
boots, I fear I may be getting wet feet very soon. “Uh, Ben? Are
you sure this is the right way?”

He laughs, in a way that my father never
could. “You scared of something?”

I turn away sheepishly and keep plodding
through the water. I can handle wet feet if I have to. Just when I
think my feet are doomed, the tunnel curves sharply to the left,
spilling out into an underground pond. The water at our feet is
pouring down a natural step, emptying into the tiny lake. The water
is crystal clear, and I can easily see to the bottom, which
glitters like diamonds. Beyond the lake is a beautiful fall of
water, coming down in a mist of tiny droplets, creating a cloud of
moisture. Every now and then I see the sparkle of something shiny
drop from above, as the glow from the lamps along the sides
reflects off of
something
.

“Wow,” I murmur. “Are those—”

“Yes,” Ben says. “This is the Diamond Lake.
The water falls from hundreds of feet above, just a small
waterfall. By the time the droplets get down here they’ve split
apart multiple times creating the spray you see in front of you.
Every once in a while a diamond comes down with it. We have no idea
how far the gemstones travel before reaching us, but it could be
miles, or even hundreds of miles.”

“What do you do with them?” Immediately my
mind grabs hold of everything I know about the gemstone trade. This
many diamonds would surely be suspicious if they started popping up
on the commerce reports hitting my father’s desk.