Circus Galacticus (25 page)

And with that, something in my brain clicks into place. I remember that first night in my dorm, the blue flames flickering in Nyl's hand as he wrestled me for the stone. It
wasn't
me bashing the stone into his face that cracked it. It was those flames. Just like the King's fire wakes up the seeds of life in the Firedance. I know what I need to do.

I slam my fist into his face. Something cracks. Nyl stumbles back, his mirrored glasses broken. Brushing them aside, he gives a roar of anger that raises goose flesh on my skin. His hand thrusts out, sending a bolt of blue flame right at me.

I launch into my routine, diving, flipping, tumbling, as bursts of fire erupt on all sides. I hiss as pain licks my heel. These aren't FX now, and I have to nail it, not for applause, but for my life, and for the future. Nyl shouts in fury as I dance around him.

Time for the last set. Backflip, round-off, spring onto the cot, and dive through the air.

After all my doubts, all the second-guessing, I am exactly where I need to be, in this one perfect moment. Nyl roars, releasing a tide of fiery blue death. I toss the rock free, so that it sails ahead of me, into the heart of the blue flames, even as I duck and tumble to escape them.

Almost. I scream as the agony rips up my left arm and into my chest, doubling me over. My legs buckle, sending me sprawling. I grit my teeth, wrenching my other arm out to catch a falling star. The Tinkers' Treasure smacks into my palm.

I lie panting, my left arm limp and lifeless, my right hand buzzing with warmth, spreading a slow honey through my fingers, into my bones.

Nyl looms over me. With his broken glasses gone, I see his eyes for the first time. They hold me, dark and merciless, and somehow it's all the more terrible because he isn't a monster under that mask. Just a man.

Threads of smoke trail from his breathing mask. Blue flames dance along his skull, skittering down his shoulders and into his outstretched hand. "Clever girl. And you got so close to victory. All the power of the Tinkers' Touch, in your hand for the taking. It's what you wanted all along, isn't it? To be a brighter star than any of them. A shame no one will ever see it."

I try to move. My body isn't mine anymore. I manage a tremble, a shiver, a whispered name.

Nyl pauses, holding my death in his hand. Outrage flares in his dark eyes. "Stupid girl! That boy is a broken soldier, pretending he has tricks up his sleeve when it's only smoke and mirrors. He could never have saved you, even if he wished it."

With a thunderous crash, the ceiling caves in. I blink, hope stirring, pulse racing, as a glittering figure falls from the heavens.

"Would you care to bet on that?" The Ringmaster sweeps his baton in a level arc, filling the room with a crackling web of light. I catch one glimpse of his eyes, fixed on my own, before everything bleaches away.

A hand finds mine, pulling me up. My legs are trembling, but he moves closer, supporting me. When I can see again, I'm on the far side of the cell. Nyl stands at the door.

"You! How—?" Nyl shakes his head. "Impossible! You would never leave that ship..."

"I didn't." The Ringmaster jabs his baton up, pointing up at the stars—no—the lights! The glorious, light-spangled vastness of the Big Top rises over us, fully enclosing the cell. They landed right on top of the station!

The door behind Nyl slides open, releasing a tide of soldiers. "You can't escape," says Nyl. "Not on that decrepit artifact. Not alone."

"Spoken like a true agent of the Mandate. You never have any faith in what you can't understand or control," says the Ringmaster. "And I'm not alone."

An avalanche cascades into the room, bowling into a handful of soldiers and knocking them aside. No way. Gravalon Pree? And he's not the only one. Jom barely hits the floor before he's leaping at the nearest soldier.

Theon slams down between two others, and suddenly they can't hold on to their weapons. Another soldier yelps as he sinks into the floor and disappears. Ghost rises up a moment later, and I swear she's actually smirking. There are others, a good dozen of the troupe. Principals, Clowns, Techs, Freaks. Nola, wielding a gun bigger than she is, shooting gobs of paralyzing goop.

"You—you came," I stammer.

"We came, we saw, and we knew when to make our getaway," says the Ringmaster, winking. "Let's be off," he calls out. "I think these ladies and gentlemen won't require an encore."

The next minute we're all floating. I catch a brief glimpse of Sirra, arms outstretched, lifting us all from the battlefield. Panels of metal fold out to re-form the floor, cutting off our view of the station below.

Miss Three flickers into sight as Sirra is setting us back down again. "Ringmaster, a full squadron has launched. We must jump as soon as possible."

The Ringmaster sprints for the door. "Buckle up, troupes. And give the Big Top some encouraging thoughts. We're going to need them, I'm afraid."

Everyone scatters. I follow the Ringmaster. So does Nola.

"We're not fully compacted, Ringmaster," she calls out as we run. "We can't jump."

He hurtles onto the bridge. "And that's why they invented these lovely things known as evasive maneuvers. I've asked Syzygy to provide some."

The blond girl stands beside one of the consoles, her thick goggles reflecting a stream of green and red flashes. As Nola and the Ringmaster race around the bridge, I'm left standing, shaky and silent, watching a dozen shapes winging toward us on the viewscreen.

Weariness drags at me. My whole body feels numb, except for my right hand, gripping the Tinkers' Treasure. I grit my teeth and look around for something, anything I can do. "Are there shields? Weapons? Can't we fight back?"

"No weapons," says the Ringmaster, his voice grim.

"No shields, either," adds Nola.

Syzygy stares at me. "Not yet."

I look down at my hand. Does she mean I should use the Treasure? Even Nyl said it.
All the power of the Tinkers' Touch, in your hand for the taking. It's what you wanted all along, isn't it? To be a brighter star than any of them.

The first bolts are almost graceful, bursting from the wings of one of the enemy craft, arcing like a golden rainbow across the screen. Then the world spins, metal groans, and the entire Big Top shudders like an old woman caught in a cold, cold wind.

"Close call," Nola says, then cries a warning as three more missiles spin toward us.

"Hold on! It's going to—"

The impact throws me to the ground. The Ringmaster is the only one who keeps his feet. I doubt there's any power in the universe that could pull him from that console. I look at his face and wish I hadn't. He knows the Big Top is dying. And I know, with a certainty that shakes me to the core, that he's dying, too. She's a part of him, or he's a part of her. The details don't matter. He can't leave her. He can't live without her.

Warmth tugs at my hand. I look at the rock. The glossy blackness is cracked with lines of red and gold. Inside, a light pulses, beating like a trapped hummingbird.

A faint chiming calls to me. It wants to be used. It wants to grow into something new and glorious. It's there for me to take, if I want it, like Nyl said. The vision catches me with a suddenness that makes me gasp. I see myself, powerful, brilliant. Shining brighter than any star. I am the pinnacle of the Tinkers' art. The Tinkers' Treasure can save me.

But I'm not the one who needs saving. I close my smarting eyes. I don't know what to do. It's a gorgeous, dazzling dream but somehow ... false. Because it's not only me. It's Nola, working her magic behind the scenes, showing up to help me even when I didn't deserve it. It's Sirra, sharp and hard as diamond, willing to risk everything for her brother. It's Jom and Theon and all of them, the madcap, rampaging, brilliant troupe. And it's the Ringmaster and his Big Top, coming to take me away, giving me a dream to believe in. A dream I
still
believe in.

Syzygy's voice breaks my reverie. "One thousand three hundred forty-nine. There is still time."

1349. The room the rock was leading me to. "I know what to do," I say, quietly at first, to myself more than anyone else. Then louder. "Ringmaster! I need to get to the Restricted Area. I know how to save the Big Top."

He doesn't ask questions, though I see them in his eyes. He takes my hand, turns, and runs for the door.

Five times we're thrown by the sudden tilting of the floor. I start to smell smoke. The Big Top shudders and groans. I run faster. By the time we get to the section with the corrugated walls, I'm leading the way. It's like the rock itself is a magnet, pulling me along, unerringly, to its destiny. Outside door 1349 I pause for a breath, then press my palm against the spongy surface. The door folds back in pleats. The room on the other side is nothing I could have imagined.

It's a little like stepping into a giant brain, complete with the ick factor. Except it's more than that. The curving walls shimmer with golden light. Ghostly images flicker at the corners of my eyes. Sparks glitter, leaping between the stalactite-like growths that decorate the room, if
room
is even the right word.

The Ringmaster stands motionless. "Beatrix," he says, "this is the heart—the brain—the soul of the Big Top. I always knew you had a heart of gold, old girl," he adds quietly.

A shudder shakes the room. The Ringmaster stumbles, nearly falling. He steadies himself against a stalagmite.

"Ringmaster?" Nola's voice comes over the com, cracking with fear. "They're all over the place! They keep coming and coming. I don't know what to do!"

"Nola," I say calmly, "it's going to be okay. Listen. You got that? Breathe." I look down one last time at the Tinkers' Treasure, pulsing in my hand like liquid gold. Then I throw it into the air.

It hangs for a moment, growing brighter and brighter. With a tinkling like a roomful of breaking china, it explodes, scattering flakes of golden light. I rub my eyes, and when I look again the entire room is glowing, rippling. Changing. The walls tremble. My skin prickles, goose bumps rising. Even my scalp tingles.

The Ringmaster stands frozen, staring around in bewilderment as if someone just threw him a surprise party and it wasn't even his birthday.

"Where did that come from?" Nola's voice rises, alarmed. "The Big Top doesn't have shields. Or polarity-reversal canons. What's going o—ooooh! The Big Top has shields! Hah! And polarity-reversal canons! Yeah, you better run away, Mandate scum. And don't come back."

IT'S STILL THE SAME old Big Top, even with a Tinkers' Treasure makeover. Sure, the doors are less wheezy, the lights shine a bit brighter, and the Techs say it'll take days to catalogue all the new defensive systems. But I still trip over piles of feather boas in the halls, and Nola's still the only one who can program the autosalon.

When I go to dinner the first night after it all went down, I prepare myself to sit alone. I figure it's better that way. Less attachments, less hurt when I go. I don't count on Nola, Jom, Theon, Gravalon, and a half-dozen others crowding around table five to join me. Jom even gives me the second-largest Chocolate Supernova for dessert, nearly as big as Nola's.

I won't lie. I love it. And hate it. They don't even say the word
Mandate,
but it's there, hanging in the air like the stench of a forgotten lunch, left to rot under the table. I let Jom tell the story of Nola's breakout, and when they ask what happened to me afterward, I shrug and mumble something about being questioned.

As if it were that easy.

***

There's one conversation I can't run away from, though, even if it scares me stiff. When I find the Ringmaster, he's looking out from the viewing deck at the whorls of light and color drifting past. In a strange way it makes me feel better. Last time we were standing here, my world was breaking apart and I was furious with him. Now it's time to put it back together and apologize.

"Hey," I say. "I've got something for you."

He turns, his expression scrupulously mild, like I'm a rabbit he expects to bolt. I hold out the pink teapot. "I'm sorry it's chipped," I say. "It kinda took a detour."

Yes, I went back and got it. From Rjool. And trust me, there's no power in the universe that's going to make me tell anyone that story.
Ever.

The Ringmaster looks between the teapot and me. Before he can say anything, I blurt it all out. "I'm sorry, Ringmaster. You took me up here, gave me all of this"—I wave out the window—"and I ... I've been nothing but trouble. I'm so sorry." I study the pattern of the floor panels with such intensity that his touch on my arm makes me jump.

"Beatrix, the Mandate are the ones who want only to avoid trouble. Nyl and his ilk would have us all following rules blindly, accepting what we're given. I meant what I said to Reaper. I like a bit of trouble in my life." This time he doesn't wink when he says it. At that moment my elbow is my connection to everything that matters.

"If you hadn't acted when you did, Nola might have been lost to us, utterly. I hesitated. I was confused. I wanted to be sure. I was ... afraid." His face darkens.

"You had more to lose. I get that now," I say, wanting to chase the shadows from his eyes. "It was easier for me to take the risk. I'm nothing sp—"

The word dies unspoken as the Ringmaster presses one finger to my lips. "No. I knew exactly what I was doing when I asked you to join the Circus Galacticus. Special isn't only what you can do. It's the choices you make. You don't go through the universe looking for a place that's ready-made for you to fit into, a round peg for a round hole. You have to make your own place. Do you understand?"

I nod, and his finger falls away, leaving a ghost of warmth. He sighs. "My mistake was not realizing I needed to do the same..."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know what this is all for." The Ringmaster waves to the room. "The Tinkers left this ship for us, but for what purpose? Am I truly doing their work, gallivanting around the universe?"

All this time I've been thinking about how much I need this place, this life. I looked to the Ringmaster to show me the way. Now, suddenly, the world has shifted. There's a desperation in his eyes that kills me. "That's not the right question," I say. "Those ancient long-lost Tinkers, they're gone. They retired, quit, whatever. You're the one who's here now, reminding people they can reach the stars and choose their own destinies. That's the real way to fight the Mandate. That's the real way to bust those cages. And I think the universe needs that pretty badly right now. I—" My voice breaks. "I know I did."