I SWALLOW HARD AND TURN around. She’s taller than me and Fay, so I have to look up at her. Without the commander in the room she stands more confidently, and I brace for whatever this newfound conviction emboldens her to do, but she backs up and then walks over to the table.
“Lyn Walmat is a formidable leader. She is speaking to the Congress of Elders to stop what has already begun. She believes she’s found proof of the one true religion.” She pauses and turns around to stare at me, looking intently for something, but she must not find it, because she relaxes and turns toward the table she and Lyn, their highest religious leader, have been working at. “Sit down. I’m not going to hurt you. Not that you will believe me.”
I do as I’m told and watch her press a button on the table. A stone egg pushes through what looks like packed dirt, while something circular, maybe a ring, pushes through a slim slat in the wall behind her. She picks up both, dusts them off with a frond of greenery she snaps from the growing table, and then slides the ring over the stone. It snaps in place with a small click.
“My people have been warring with one another for a century. Sister against sister for one hundred years without resolution. It is a debate that cannot be settled. This timeline is no good. I know that now, but the commander, she still has faith. She still believes in the prophecy.”
She holds up the stone. “This device is priceless. I say priceless because a Tilibine general was rumored to have stolen one and held an auction for it. He sold it to the Old Republic for the bargain sum of an entire planet.”
“But Tiliba earned its independence after it was classified as a level-six planet. Their technology and state relations progressed so fast the five councils had to recognize their right to self-govern,” I say.
Shulat laughs and turns the stone over in her hand. “Since you are fond of repeating your school lessons, consider this. When has anyone ever earned their independence? Freedom isn’t given; it’s snatched from your oppressors’ bloody fingers. The Republic gave up the planet for this. The first people called it the Goddess Star.”
A puff of air escapes the table and Shulat sets the stone above it, where it begins to hover, suspended by the air flow.
“What does it do?” I ask.
The table starts to shift and grow, bleeding sap that hardens into petri dishes and cracking open to burp flames for vials that squeeze through the walls behind her. The ceiling still crawls with the budding vines, creating a constant swish-swish chorus of leaves rubbing upon leaves in the background.
“We believe it resets time,” she says.
“You don’t know?”
She shakes her head and sniffs the air as one of the buds on the ceiling bursts, releasing a scent not unlike roasted corn. She nods her head and goes back to building what is beginning to look more and more like a wet-lab station. The kind used for examining specimens under a microscope. My nerves twitch.
“Legend says it was created to correct grave mistakes, but manipulating time is dangerous business. Stop a flood and cause an avalanche. There is no way to know how our actions play into the goddess’s plans. Who can know the difference between fate and folly?”
“It must be very rare,” I say, and scrutinize the ceiling. The vines might be an olfactory alarm system. Quiet and decipherable only by your own people. Genius-level tech. I tear my eyes away and fix them back on Shulat.
“Not really. Stars are usually given to children at the time of their first bleeding so that they understand that their actions have great consequences.”
“What happens to the people who use it?”
“They disappear, never to be seen again.”
“So for all you know it could really be a weapon and doesn’t correct anything at all.”
“That’s a question of faith. Something you should discuss with your brother.”
I bite my lip so I don’t confess that he isn’t my brother. Shulat’s eyes twinkle. She, too, knows the truth, but to what extent I don’t know.
“He is a great man of faith. He would not have attempted something so foolish unless he truly believed in the legend. It is unfortunate that you do not share this belief. It would make what is going to happen easier for you to accept.” She pauses, probably waiting for me to ask some question about the legend or her, but there’s no need to talk anymore. I need to listen. From everything I’ve seen, these walls aren’t as solid as they seem. I’ve got to be smart, and smart people keep their mouths shut.
She picks up the two syringes Lyn left on the table in one hand, palms the star in the other, and walks over to Fayard. My heart jumps to my throat.
“Don’t!” I yelp, and she turns to me.
“Don’t what?” she says, and looks at me curiously as she slips the stone into one of the pockets on his suit. “He risked his life for this,” she says, and wipes his face with the edge of her apron. “It’s easy to use. You slip on the ring and say the words, and then—poof—you’re gone. It only works once, though. You would have to be sure.”
“Why are you telling me this? Why would you give it to him?”
“Because he earned it. A kindness for a kindness. Besides, you’re going to need it. You’re not who my commander thinks you are. You’re not the fulfillment of some prophecy or proof of some grand cosmic love story. Her petition to stop the destruction of the planet will be denied because our people love war more than they love truth, much like you humans. Right or wrong. He’s just a thief and you’re just a soldier,” she says dreamily. Then, quick as wasp stings, she plunges the syringes in our thighs.