“To Maurir,” I replied automatically, and only then realized the reason for his question.
“Of course he is,” snapped Malyn Tol, glaring at Argan Am. He was a sorcerer and the unofficial leader of our team, but Malyn Tol had a way with people. She turned back to me and said, “As soon as I heard what happened, I ran to Laik Var to tell him that if he wanted to deport you, he’d have to do it over my dead body. You’re one of us, Aldait Han. We wouldn’t let any harm come to you.”
Nice sentiment, but I didn’t believe it. Not standing here, taller and wider than any of the people around, with my tanned complexion starkly contrasting their chalky paleness. In the last two cycles I spent working for Mespana, I learned to shave my face and cut my hair short, wear a skin-tight uniform, and speak Dahlsi-é, but now I realized how ridiculous my attempts were.
I would never be one of them.
And yet hearing Malyn Tol’s words, I felt a bit of my tension melting. I gave my best attempt at summoning a smile, hoping to let her know I appreciated her effort.
“Thank you,” I said.
She nodded solemnly and stepped back.
“How are you holding up?” asked Saral Tal.
Out of everyone on our team, I knew him the best, and not only because we worked together more often than the rest. He was talkative when I was quiet, and that’s how we got along. I never doubted, though, that after our missions ended, he was ready to return to his thousands of friends and forget about me until next time. But it was nice while it lasted.
I shook my head, not sure how to answer. “I try not to think about it.”
“Not thinking about problems doesn’t make them go away,” noted Vareya La. She was the youngest of us—ten cycles at most, barely an adult—with the last traces of teenage acne on her face. Sorox was her first mission, and I’d almost expected her to run by now.
“Could anything make my problems go away?” I retorted.
Vareya La looked down and I felt like an asshole.
“It wasn’t right what they did,” Argan Am added quickly. “The Directory, I mean…”
“Yeah, it was definitely an overreaction,” agreed Saral Tal. “Let’s just hope it will blow over soon.”
I nodded again, not sure how to answer. A part of me still hoped I would wake up, and it would all turn out to be a horrible dream. Or a practical joke. Or something. But I didn’t count on it. And honestly, could the whole situation blow over? If we went to Maurir and quelled the rebellion—then what? Would the Directory suddenly change their minds and withdraw their deportation order? Reach out and invite back the people they just kicked out?
Would there be anyone to come back?
“Do you have any family?” asked Argan Am.
I flinched involuntarily.
“No,” I said quickly, for a moment feeling ridiculously immature. From what I overheard, Argan Am had two sons. Plus, a steady relationship and a sorcerer degree. He couldn’t be much older than me, but he seemed so far ahead in life. “I mean… I have a mother and sister. They live… lived in Nes Peridion.”
I trailed off, not sure why I even brought that up. But doing so made my thoughts turn toward the next problem.
Nobody told me where they’d gone, but it’s not like there was much choice. The only way out of Meon Cluster led through Dahls, and the only ways out of Dahls were to Tarviss, Tayan, and Xzsin Nyeotl. The Tayani, despite their own internal conflicts, hated us with a passion born from thousands of cycles of feuds, and Xzsim were divided into innumerable tribes, only some of which allied with Dahls. Warriors could choose that path, but…
We were farmers, not warriors. So, the only possible way out was Tarviss.
And it wasn’t hard to imagine how the Tarvissi ruling class had reacted upon seeing their runaways back. I knew I had nothing to look for there with my family history. My mom probably used a false name—I only hoped she’d be able to keep the deception. I wished I could follow them and take them… somewhere. But with Dahls and the entire Meon cluster out of the question, I had no idea where to go.
Malyn Tol squeezed my hand again. “I hope they’re all right.”
Before I answered, a loud bellow reverberated through the air. I looked up to see a small, bright red miyangua standing on top of the train, quickly emptying their vocal sacks. Three Dahlsi stood at their side, barely taller than them, with silver sashes running across their chests. Even at this distance, I recognized Laik Var’s balding head and figured the other two were vessár-ai of Cohorts Eighth and Ninth.
“All right, people, listen up,” spoke Laik Var. “Like most of you probably know, the rebels in Maurir blocked the merge. Luckily, our sorcerers managed to calculate an alternative route. We will take the train to Kooine, and from there to a newly discovered world, Espa Solia, where we’ll join the rest of Mespana and proceed to the artificially opened merge with Maurir. Any questions?”
No one spoke. I wondered how we were going to reach Maurir. Here in Meon Cluster, most worlds only merged once, with one of the so-called junction worlds. By blocking this merge, the rebels basically cut Maurir off. Most people could only stand aside and wait for the merge to open. Luckily, Dahlsi were masters of cosmography.
“Good. Now board up!”
The crowd rushed toward the train, with no discernible order. I guessed none of us really knew how to act in such a big group; we usually worked in twos, threes, or fours, rarely more than six. I lingered, not fond of pushing and pulling, and in the process managed to lose my team. In the end, I had to take the last available seat on the train, right next to a furry kas’sham with an
