And All the Stars

Chapter Ten

Someone – Noi, most likely – had come into Madeleine’s room overnight and arranged a tray of snacks and drinks on the bedside cabinet, so when piercing hunger woke her in the pre-dawn grey she needed only to sit up. Once the first urgency was met she noticed the cold, and escaped to another warm shower and an attempt to manage her hair.

Descending to the main floor, she found the lounge dark except for the glow of the muted television, and the clear, pale note provided by a vast, water-lapped sky. Pan was sitting in the open doorway to the patio, legs curled against his chest, chin resting on his knees, staring out at the water. He looked cold, small and defeated, all his mercurial energy drained.

Quietly putting together two steaming cups of over-sugared tea, Madeleine handed him one, then sat to share the dawn. A seagull was hovering in the distance, the first she’d seen since the dust.

"Gav was captain of the soccer team," Pan said, when tea or company had warmed him a little. "And he could act the socks off half the school. Fantastic at the comedic roles – did a great Bertie Wooster. Really generous on the stage, too, not fiddling about drawing attention to himself during someone else’s good lines." Pan tipped the last of his tea into his mouth, and swallowed heavily. "Just before, they were showing…Madrid, I think it was. Spain somewhere. You know how we were wondering if the Moths could body-hop? Go from person to person? They can. They’d caught two Blues and – I guess some of them must shop around for Blues with the most stain? They came out, and moved into the new Blues. The people they’d been in just dropped. Some Greens carried the bodies off."

There was nothing Madeleine could say. She sat turning her empty mug and listening to the sounds the ocean made in a quiet bay. Soft, secret noises, large yet gentle.

"Gav’s dead." Pan was barely audible. "He might still be in his head right now – or not. He might walk around being the Core of the whatever the hell clan for the next two years. But he doesn’t get to come back."

He sat a little straighter, putting his mug down carefully. "I agree with Emily. Fuck the running and hiding. Let’s find a way to fight these things."

"I’m open to suggestions."

"Would you do it?" Pan shot Madeleine a quick glance. "Any plan we come up with is going to involve us hiding behind you and your metal-crushing awesomeness."

"It’s not metal I’m worried about crushing," Madeleine said. "Fighting the – are we calling them Moths now? – fighting these things means attacking the people they’re inside. Hurting people who’ve done nothing wrong. I don’t know if I could try to hunt down and kill possessed Blues. I think I could maybe fight back if we were attacked, if it meant stopping…to stop the people here from being taken."

"Oh, God, yeah. It’s hard enough with Gav. I would have gone spare if they’d gotten Nash."

"Are–" Madeleine hesitated. "Are you two a couple?"

Pan gave her a Look, and she started to stutter an apology, but then he grinned, mischief revived.

"Hah, that’s okay. You’re just the first person who’s ever asked me that outright. Nash is – I met Nash my second year at Rushies, Year Eight. I’m a scholarship student there, and while most of the guys are fine about that, there’s always a few, you know? My parents run a petrol station, and you’d think that it was some kind of personal affront the way a couple of twits reacted.

"Year Seven was pretty hellish. I wanted to prove myself. You know, be the underdog who comes in and grabs the lead role. Didn’t manage it that year, but I snagged speaking parts in a couple of productions. And kept ending up with black eyes. I was a little squit back then, and it was always an elbow to the face, sorry didn’t see you there Rickard, ha ha. Then they’d trip me up on stage, put rubbish in the props I was supposed to use. They’d drive me into a fury, then ask me Can’t you take a joke? I swear, I have to hold myself back from anyone who says that these days. Can’t you take a joke? Only complete fuckwits say that.

"Year Eight, they were putting on Peter Pan and I knew I’d get the lead if I could get through auditions in one piece. And I also desperately wanted to be on the soccer team. Managed to scrape in as a reserve, and the day before my first chance to play some bright spark had disappeared my shoes. Team members are responsible for their own kit, and if I couldn’t get replacement shoes I’d be sitting out the match, and somehow no-one had any my size they could possibly spare. Only got a lecture when I rang home for money.

"Nash was one of six in my dorm room, new that year and kind of a big deal because of his family. His life’s been all boarding schools and film sets, and he’s met a hell of a lot of industry people. Everyone was trying to cultivate him, and he was being incredibly polite and distant. On the day of the match, he gets a package from his sister – stuff for cricket, a fencing mask. And one pair of soccer shoes which were way too small for him. I didn’t figure out for months that he’d simply ordered everything himself that morning, and had it couriered over.

"Then, on my way to the auditions for Peter Pan I was shoved into a cupboard and locked in. Just a joke, Rickard. Can’t you take a joke?" For a moment Pan became the essence of smug mockery, self-satisfied and unassailable. "Nash let me out. I was foaming with rage, wanted to go get myself beaten up trying to black a few eyes. The best revenge was getting the part, of course, but I doubt I would have remembered that without Nash."

"I’m beginning to see why he calls you temper-boy."

"Yeah." Pan grimaced. "I’m not that bad, really. Well, I went to counselling, and I’m not that bad any more. Nash talked me into that. Nash has pretty much saved my life the last couple of years, and no-one could be a better friend. We got gay-boy taunts, of course. Well, I did. Rushies has very strict policies about annoying extra-prestigious international students. Nash is gay. He’s been working out what that means for him, but it doesn’t seem to be me. And I could fill a book about the time April-next-door wore this really loose tank top and from the side you could see this curve. I was eleven, and I still react when I see a girl in a yellow top."

He leaned forward, sighing gustily. "I’ve been sitting here thinking about all the guys in my class who died from the stain, and not being able to get Gav back, and searching for a way to protect Nash. We’re all trying to think of ways to protect each other, but not even Fish has come up with anything. It’s just too big."

"We’re still gathering information, remember."

"More information really isn’t helping." He reached back and grabbed a tablet computer, tapped through screens and handed it to her. "Watch that. I’m going to get started on breakfast."

He’d brought up a YouTube clip.

"Mom, stop."

An American accent, and a wildly jiggling image which steadied on a tearful boy of ten tugging at the arm of a woman packing a suitcase into a car. Beside them a girl of five sat on the driveway, wailing.

"Why are you going?" shouted a different girl – the one holding the camera. "How can you leave us?"

"It’s my duty to serve, honey," the woman said, her voice soothing, unperturbed by the distress all around her. "La-Saal needs me."

She came back toward the camera to collect another suitcase, and Madeleine saw that she was a Green, though the kids didn’t seem to be stained.

"We need you more!" the boy said. "They’re monsters, Mom. You gotta stay away from them!"

The woman ignored this, packing the second suitcase into the back seat of the car and slamming the door shut.

"I won’t let you!" The boy darted forward, snatching something from the front seat before the woman could move, stepping away hands held to his chest. "You’re staying here, Mom. You’re supposed to be with us, not them!"

The woman backhanded him across the face. He spun to the ground as the camera-girl shrieked, then the image bounced dizzyingly as she ran forward, and the camera fell. There wasn’t clear vision after that, just sobs and shouts, and the sound of a car starting, and driving away.

"There’s a lot more like that," Pan said, cracking eggs in the kitchen. "The Greens are…they’re still people, but any of them who were within range of the Spires' song have packed up and headed in to where the possessed Blues are. They just ignore or avoid the uninfected, unless someone tries to stop them."

Madeleine had belatedly processed the morning’s silence. "The song’s stopped, but they’re still–?"

"Yeah, it doesn’t conveniently wear off, and it doesn’t make any difference if you take them out of range. They respond to some questions, but not very usefully."

"They’re not all standing about the Spires are they?"

"I wish. Worst news first: road blocks. They did the main roads, then moved on to all the little streets, driving cars across them. A couple of cities even have footage of Greens talking together, marking off street maps. I don’t know if they’ll manage to get every street, but we can’t hope to simply drive away. Equally bad news: they’re searching the cities. Collecting bodies mainly, but also flushing out Blues. We did a lot of brainstorming about what to do if they come here – check the fridge."

A list had been added to the collection of flower and superhero drawings.

"It’s no good us hiding in that study if the sinks are wet, fresh food is sitting on the table, and there’s a handy monitor shrieking intruder!. So orders are to keep rooms we’re not in spotless, and don’t leave your belongings about. The second the monitor alarm sounds, clear your main room task, check your own room, then straight to the study. Strictly speaking Noi wanted us to not cook for the next few days, because, well, the cheery scent of pancakes is a bit of a giveaway as well." He lifted a sizzling frying pan. "But she also wants to use up the eggs before they go off, so I figure this is early enough in the day to be safe, and we clean up straight away. Wanna help?"

They made enormous stacks of pancakes and were washing up when the others began to drift out of their rooms. Min and Noi paused to talk by the dining table, then went out on the patio together. Min set a small statue of Buddha up against the planters, and they both lit some incense and prayed. Fisher collected pots of jam and honey and laid the table while Emily ran through the available channels on the television, but didn’t turn on the sound. They decided to let Nash continue to sleep while they worked through the pancakes, and no-one seemed to want to talk much, even after Pan told them about the body-hopping.

"I didn’t realise you were Buddhist, Noi," Madeleine said, after they’d drifted out to sit on the patio. The planter hedges thankfully shielded them from most angles, so they’d decided it was safe to venture.

"Technically, Buddhisty-Catholicy." Noi shrugged. "Usually I’m a bit laid-back about it all, but I’m having a ping-pong of faith at the moment." She gazed in through the patio door at the boys cleaning up plates and putting them away. "It helps me when thinking about the people who are gone, but it’s not so comforting when considering the ones still around. Especially Gavin."

"Do you think we have any chance?"

"Every time I look at the TV the odds seem to go down. From what we know now, yes, there’s a chance, but the body-hopping is a bad thing. If they’re specifically looking for the strongest Blues, well, you and I are some of the strongest Blues in the city. That hidden room is a big bonus, but we don’t have much time to get to it after the alarm goes off, and food-hunting is going to be a huge risk. One of the biggest dangers is boredom."

"Boredom?" Madeleine stared. Here in this luxurious home, filled with games and books, half a dozen computers, and multiple televisions screening an alien invasion?

"Yeah, boredom. The longer this goes on, the more we’ll struggle – both keeping ourselves ready to hide on short notice, and not taking more risks. Pan particularly – he’s the energetic type that finds it hard to just stay put. I’m that way myself. Don’t you want to get out, do something?"

"I want to paint you and Emily."

"Really? Not Science Boy?"

"Fisher…" Madeleine glanced quickly at the door, but no-one was close. "I need to know him better, understand what it is I’d want to paint. If I had unlimited materials, sure, but I’ve two canvases and I want to use them well. You and Emily, I could really make something."

A warm tinge deepened Noi’s skin, but she frowned. "Anyone coming into the apartment would smell fresh paint."

"If I set the easel by the patio door, and move the canvas to the safe room when I’m not working on it, it shouldn’t be an issue. And I’d work on sketches the first couple of days. They’re likely to search Finger Wharf early on, aren’t they?"

"Given who Sydney’s new alien overlord is, yeah."

Without warning she hunched down, motioning Madeleine to do the same. Madeleine slid out of her chair to kneel on the patio deck, then turned to see why they were hiding.

A grey navy ship was easing backward out of the narrow eastern part of the bay. Even though she couldn’t see anyone on the deck, Madeleine shifted underneath the edge of the patio table, and Noi joined her, making a shooing motion at Min, who was staring out at them.

"Blues escaping?" Madeleine whispered, though there was no way they could be overheard.

"Green navy waiting at the headlands for anyone sneaking out of the harbour?"

It was the more likely explanation. Madeleine and Noi waited until the ship had gained reasonable distance, then slipped back into the apartment, joining the others in watching through the glass.

"Chances are good they’ll have something similar to stop people going up-river," Noi said.

"Not an insurmountable obstacle, however." Nash hadn’t slept very late for someone who’d had most of the night watch. "A small, unlit boat in the dark would have a good chance of–"

He broke off as Pan gripped his arm, and they all stared, speechless, at a ribbon of light following the ship.

Snake-like and perhaps the length of three buses, it was widest along the front third, where what seemed to be a dozen layers of diaphanous wings marked a lazy, complicated beat. The wings were shaped like sails, triangles of light which thinned to insubstantiality, just like the long trailing tail of the thing. It swooped, lifted, glided: a dandelion seed of a monster decorating the sky.

"Is there someone riding that?"

The distance made it difficult to be sure, but there did seem to be two points of solidity near the very front, before the wings.

They watched until their view was blocked by the eastern headland, then Min said: "So, no going out on the patio except at night?"

"And I was worried they’d have possessed some survivors who knew how to fly helicopters." Noi reluctantly slid the patio door shut. "Until we have some better idea of how often those things will fly over, and whether they happen to have night vision, no going out at all."