Page 31 of Ava Stargazer (Planet Xai #2)

The finality of seeing that made Ava turn away, her hands shaking. Mama.

Ava audibly swallowed. “Mama . . .”

She really didn’t know what she’d expected. But a part of her had hoped. Always hoped. Tears poured down her face, and she pulled away from her childhood photo, and the photos of her family. She’s gone for real. She never left here.

Vox was concentrating, the blue light on his face as he downloaded the data. His focus was too intense to be listening in on Ava’s thoughts.

She looked back at the picture, above Laura’s and her sisters, of her tiny, scared face. Her thin face and arms. But I made it. The glass covering on the screen reflected her face over her smaller one. She stood and lined it up so her eyes were over hers in the picture.

She narrowed her eyes at her picture, changing her reflection to look determined. I’m back. I’m here. She was able to lead Vox here, right to where the records were. I found all of you. Ava took a step back from the feed and began to pace. Walking these floors, feeling their familiarity as she ran her hand alongside the walls ... It is really familiar. Even the texture.

“It will take a few more moments,” Vox said, glancing over at her. “Luckily this area is no longer in use and we can take the time. I am deleting the files as I go. Now there will be nothing left if others come here looking.”

He looked at the screen, the light reflecting and enhancing the blue in his face and amber eyes. “The Human logs have other offshoots on this local database. I’m pulling that data as well to show their crimes, and what else is occurring.”

Ava paced, up and down, tugging on her hair, until she felt the need to run. A light at the end of the hall beckoned her. There. I need to go there. “Vox,” she choked out, her feet planted in that direction. She leaned forward on the balls of her toes.

“Almost, Ava.”

She huffed and paced again while pulling on her hair now in earnest until Vox appeared. “I took off my com to keep downloading. What is it? Is there a threat? I don’t sense any life ahead.”

She pointed down the hall, where sections of the hand rail were missing. “There.” Ava pulled on Vox’s side. I know ... where I am. “Vox, come this way.”

She walked them down the passage, feeling pressure within her. It was all empty and sterile. Not here. Ava skittered from room to room like a pom, frantically searching.

The voices in her head pounded, the memories rising. It made her vision swim, intensified by the knowledge that her mother’s ghost was here. That she’d never left. Never escaped. She turned to the side and threw up on the floor, on the dented metal footpath, as her head began to ache, then broke into a run as she wiped her mouth. It’s here.

“Ava!” she heard Vox yell, racing to keep up.

But Ava couldn’t stop. I need to see this. If she stopped, she didn’t know if she could start again, to run toward the place her memories called her to. She continued to wipe her mouth and moved forward.

Ava didn’t need a map. She knew where she was going.

Her feet knew.

Her body knew.

And her mind?

Unfortunately, that knew most of all.

Vox followed in her wake. She could feel his eyes and mind on her, but he made no attempt to interfere. The Yar husk that knew of Humans walked right behind them. The others that didn’t have any knowledge did as well.

Ava picked up the pace until she was sprinting down the tunnel. She ran as fast as she did through the silent halls of Celestial . Her feet followed the memory trail until she slid to a stop outside a room, her footsteps echoing.

She smashed her face against the window, breath fogging up the glass, desperate to look within. Sweat now coated her back through her heat suit as she breathed heavily. Here .

The room was five doors down from the end of the hall. Four white walls to contain her life.

The enclosure was sterile now, cleaned of its inhabitants, but Ava remembered. She put her hand on the window and looked. This is where I began. With Mama . And all her sisters.

Her memory superimposed the image of her mama, sitting there blankly in the corner, while Ava and her sisters ran around her, playing. Her mother had rarely roused, and often just slept cycles upon cycles away. But she held her, when Ava came close. Held her and whispered prayers about celestial, heavenly beings.

There were other rooms they’d been taken to in the facility, shepherded around on a schedule. Ava knew the path to each of them, all starting from this room. Ones with lessons where she learned to read Common with the other Earth children.

There were a few males there, but less and less as the cycles progressed. Human males were more aggressive, and she heard the Yar say they were a bad investment. And once Ava was classed to be sold as a worker, she was kept separate entirely.

They learned lessons. Different tasks taught for different roles they might fulfill in the future to increase their sale prices. Ava remembered playing with gears, even back then drawn to the mechanical twisting and satisfying grinding they did when lined up perfectly. It was something the minders took note of to tell Ebel when he came looking for his helper.

There was a simulator that showed them different planets, showing their minds what outside the facility was like so they would be useful when taken away for work. They learned what it was like to live on various planets. What crowds felt like. It was enough that when Ava went off the ship with Nuor, and now at Xai, it wasn’t so foreign that she was not able to adapt, even though it was still overwhelming.

But it was here, in this room, in family pods, that they slept. They spent the majority of their time in this room, more as the years went by and the interest in Humans dwindled, and therefore the lessons did as well.

She closed her eyes and could remember now, clearer than she had in a long time, having just seen her photo, her mother’s face and hair, black like hers but cut short. Mine was short too back then.

Here, they were together. The minders kept them with their mothers. It seemed like that was the limit of their cruelty, to not separate them, and to allow them to remain in familial pods during downtime. Or they learned that Humans grew better if they stayed with their mothers. And they were allowed names instead of just numbers.

Vox came up and gently touched her from behind. She felt the touch on her mind and let him in further, showing him what she remembered. Only in her memories, she was on the other side of the glass.

Vox looked as she remembered, with the biologics on her chest reflecting brightly off the window. Ava remembered until her limbs gave out and she sank to the floor. It’s too much.

She began to pull on her hair as tears streamed down her face. She began to cry, in earnest, big ugly tears. “What happened to me here, Vox? With these ... monsters?”

“Ava. . .” Vox looked back, lost.

Ava got up, rage in her heart. She looked back at the Yar husks. I hate you. She wanted to scream at them, but even now felt the need to be silent in these halls. Her insides clenched, happy they were broken. She was happy they stood there, mindless. She wished she could harm them more. She wished she was strong like Vox and was able to twist their minds, like they’d twisted hers.

But really, their minds already were twisted in a different way, controlled by the Riolie. Were they the enemy? She broke away from those thoughts, unhappy they were in her mind at all. No. No.

Vox got down on her level and took her head gently in his hands. His eyes were wide and fixated on her. “Breathe, Ava, you have to breathe.”

Ava took a shuddering breath at his reminder, her eyes dancing between his gaze and the window on her left. Vox pulled her into his arms and hummed the same tune he did at Orla’s mating ceremony, when the moons were full. Life on Xai. Her cheeks were wet, remembering.

And then it was silent as he held her. And she breathed. And time passed. Until she said softly. “It was long ago, wasn’t it?”

Vox rubbed her back as she shifted in his arms. “Yes. It’s not now, Ava. You are safe now.”

“Safe now.” And she shook, wiping her eyes, feeling that. It was so long. So long ago. It was still quiet here, in the hall. Nothing was forcing her to do anything. Nothing at all.

The roles were no longer the same as they were, when she was a child. She was not the same as when she was a child. She sat there, letting her mind spin. No. This place. It will not break me.

She stood, walked away from Vox, and looked into the room long and hard again. Her hands were sweaty and her heart raced, which was at odds with the calmness of the moment. The calm of just being able to stand and look here at the room, in the dim lighting, with no danger around.

It is the place, but it also looks different than I remember. Ava peered in, examining every side . It was so scary in my memory, but it really is just a plain room.

She put her hand on the glass. It is so small compared to what I had in my head from before, back when I was smaller myself. She looked, seeing the corners she used to hide in. The thought hit her of how she still did that, hiding up high in the engine room. That has not changed much. But even that was untrue as she had spent more and more time on Xai, learning to live.

And there were good memories here, despite everything, of her sisters playing with her. She had forgotten those. How they made up their own games and had laughed quietly together, snuggling in each other’s arms. And Maebel, closest to her in age, in particular, who clung to her even when they slept. She had forgotten who they really were, her sisters. Everything was different seeing it now, understanding as an adult, compared to the confusion she had as a child.

She whispered to all her sisters in her memory, through the glass, “I’m so sorry.”

The block on her memories and emotions she had was gone, and tears rolled down her face. It wasn’t at all like the fear she had in Torga, that her family and the others would be upset with her. They would just be happy she was okay and able to live. They loved me. Her hand rubbed the glass. They wouldn’t be mad at me at all.

She whispered into the room, “I’ll do my best. For all of us. I’m so sorry.” Ava glanced in the corner. I’ll live for all of us. You too, Mama. She swallowed heavily. I’ve seen enough. Her voice came out in a gasp, hands shaking. “Vox? I think I ... want to leave now.”

“Ava . . .”

She looked up with tears in her eyes and her voice came out in a cry. “I want to go back to Xai. I want to go home. I want to go back to our home and sit in the sun.”

Vox came close, his amber eyes fiery and intent. He nodded, talking softly and slowly, as if afraid of startling her further. “Okay, Ava. Yes. Let’s go home. Do you want me to carry you?”

She wiped her tears away on her jumpsuit and looked at the silent Yar standing next to them. Even the biologics were subdued and muted around her neck. Ava took a deep breath. She took one last look in the room to say goodbye before stepping away, shaking her head. “No. I want to walk out on my own.”

She walked first, and Vox followed.