Phoenix

  Lucky’s scalp was prickling, his mind reeling. He felt dizzy. It was like standing on the edge of the wheel again – or falling and falling and falling through the night.

  ‘There can’t be a star inside me,’ he managed to say. ‘Those legends of yours – they’re legends!’

  Mystica wiped her eyes. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘But how else can you explain all your powers? The heat, the light, the flames? Your brilliance with the astrolabe?’ She peered deep into his eyes. ‘And you say you hear the stars singing to you?’

  ‘That doesn’t mean anything. Startalkers hear them too—’

  ‘Startalkers hear only one star: the star they’re connected to. How many do you hear?’

  ‘I – I’m not sure. Lots of them . . .’

  ‘Lots?’ she said softly. She shook her head in wonder. ‘That is something no Startalker could claim.’

  ‘But – look!’ Lucky pointed up at the figures on the screens, with their wings and haloes, their flaming swords and thunderbolts; the people who held whole worlds in their hands. ‘They’re incredible! They’re like gods, they can do anything. I’m nothing like that. I’m useless, clumsy—’

  ‘Of course!’ breathed Mystica, clapping her hands together. ‘Of course – of course you are clumsy! You are bound to have trouble with anything physical, because this Human body is not your true form. Your deep being is that of a star!’

  ‘Oh, come on!’ Lucky kicked the floor with a cloven hoof. ‘OK, I’ve got some power . . . but what can I do with it? Kill people. Burn things. Hurt myself.’

  But Mystica’s eyes were glowing brighter as her conviction grew. ‘You don’t know your power’s limits,’ she countered. ‘You’ve never truly let it go, have you? The Professor thought there might be no limit to it, if you did – no limit at all.’ She shook her head again. ‘How extraordinary. To think this might happen in my lifetime—’

  ‘Mystica!’ cried Lucky, totally embarrassed now. ‘Please! If I’m an Astraeus, then where’s my wings and halo?’ He turned to Bixa, knowing she would say something rude, and put an end to this crazy talk.

  But Bixa’s silver eyes looked thoughtful. ‘It’s not impossible,’ she said. ‘The legends are old, aren’t they? They’re bound to have been corrupted over time. Maybe people wanted to remember the Astraeus as perfect gods, but that might not be the truth. All we really know is they were beings who had the power of the stars inside them. And your power, whatever it is, obviously has something to do with the stars – doesn’t it?’

  Lucky gaped at her. How could even Bixa be talking like this? ‘If you really think I’ve got that kind of power,’ he challenged, ‘then what am I supposed to do with it?’

  ‘That depends on which of the Twelve you are,’ said Mystica. ‘Each Astraeus was different. Each was the origin of a different kind of myth. All the war gods, sky gods, sea gods, love gods – all the ancient pantheons – they all go back to one of the Twelve Astraeus. So if we knew which one you were, then we might guess your power’s purpose. If you are the Astraeus of War, say, then you must surely be here to fight in the War. If you are the Astraeus of Love—’

  Bixa giggled at that, and Lucky blushed deeply. He stared up at the vidscreens, trying to remember ancient gods and mythologies, but Mystica’s words had prompted another thought.

  ‘Twelve!’ he said. ‘There’s meant to be twelve! If I’m an Astraeus, where are the others?’

  ‘I pray they are where Professor Byzantine believed we’d find them: behind the blockade, in Aquarius,’ replied Mystica. ‘But even if I am wrong, and you are not one of them – then isn’t it clear that the stars must have given you this power for a purpose? There is something you are meant to do with it.’

  She gazed at him, and in her eyes Lucky saw the hope still radiant, in spite of all his denials. He felt deeply uncomfortable, having that gaze upon him. He hated being the centre of such attention, the focus of such faith.

  He stood up, and drew away from the warmth of the bed. ‘I’ll tell you what I’m going to do,’ he muttered, pacing the cabin like a caged animal. ‘I’m never going to use that horrible power again.’

  He expected Mystica to argue with him, as the Professor had – and he was ready to argue back, to argue till the end – but to his surprise, her golden eyes filled with sympathy as she watched him.

  ‘You poor boy,’ she said. ‘I am sorry. It is not for us to say who you are, or what you’re here to do. You are the only one who can say. But please know this, Lucky: I trust you as I trust the stars themselves. Whatever you decide, we will support you.’

  She was doing her best to reassure him, but his thoughts were growing darker and darker. ‘Never, ever again,’ he vowed. He shut his eyes, and all he could see was darkness. ‘It’s not going to kill me. It – it’s not . . .’

  ‘Are you all right, dear?’ said Mystica. ‘I didn’t mean to distress you . . .’

  He shook his head. He tried to push the feelings down, but they were overwhelming. It felt like his face was tightening – and then, all of a sudden, he was gasping for air –

  – and weeping –

  – weeping –

  – weeping into the night.

  Without a word, Mystica pulled him towards her, and pressed his face into her arms.

  He felt safe in there. It was warm and dark; it smelled like chocolate and spices. He let go, and the feelings came out in a great flood: all the pain and fear and sadness he’d been holding onto for so long.

  Mystica held him all the time, asking nothing, saying nothing, just letting him cry.

  Eventually, the weeping subsided. He felt strangely light-headed and relieved, as if he’d been washed clean inside. He felt embarrassed too – what was Bixa was going to say? – but he looked up to see her watching him with something he’d never seen on her face before. Something like tenderness.

  ‘Are you OK?’ she said awkwardly. ‘Is there anything I can do?’

  He couldn’t help giving a wry smile. Those were the same words he’d offered her on Scorpio, when they were talking about death. How hollow those words seemed now.

  ‘You were right,’ he admitted. ‘There’s nothing anyone can do, is there?’

  ‘Not really.’ Bixa shrugged. ‘But maybe it helps a bit – knowing you’re not alone?’

  Lucky wiped his eyes. ‘Yeah.’ He sat up straighter. ‘Can we talk about something else? Something good, for a change? Tell me about this place we’re going. Aquarius.’

  ‘Oh, it’s the most beautiful system!’ Mystica declared. ‘We’ve crossed the whole galaxy, witnessed so many wonders, but none compares to home. Let me show you the great nebula you’ll see as we approach Aquarius; we have an old vidpic of it.’

  She tapped on the wall, and the screens all rippled and resolved to show one giant image: the swirling arms of a spiral nebula.

  Lucky gaped at it, gooseflesh prickling his skin. It was like seeing one of his oldest memories brought to life: the vidpic he’d grown up looking at.

  ‘I know that place!’ he gasped. ‘There’s a vidpic of me as a baby, with my mother and father – we were under that nebula. We were there!’

  ‘Is that so?’ said Mystica. She stroked her chin. ‘Well, it seems fitting, for a nebula is a place where new stars are born. It’s a kind of astral nursery – and this particular nebula has some of the most beautiful stars in the galaxy. Remember, Bixa?’

  ‘How could I forget?’ Bixa’s needles glowed silver. ‘It’s my first memory of anything, ever. Stargazing in the nebula with our aunts and uncles. The skies were so clear – I’ll never forget seeing those baby stars being born.’ She grinned. ‘You’re going to love it, Lucky. It’s really something special.’

  Lucky felt cheered by the prospect. After the horrors of Scorpio, after Gala’s prophecies, after all the doubts and fears that were tearing him apart – here at last was something good and bright and pure. Something that spoke to him of better times, when his parents were still toge
ther, when he was safe and protected beneath his father’s smile. It gave him hope that he was getting closer, that they would soon be reunited at last.

  Because whatever the Startalkers said, his father was the only one who really knew the truth about his power. And he was going to prove that Lucky wasn’t an Astraeus, or a Wolf, or anything strange and supernatural.

  Just a boy.

  A boy who wasn’t going to die.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  As they flew through the outer systems, past Sagittarius and Capricorn and on into the deepest reaches of Axxa space, Bixa and Mystica talked of little but the wonders of the nebula. They filled Lucky’s mind with their stories and memories of it. By the time the Sunfire came to the outskirts of Aquarius, he could hardly wait to see all the beautiful sights they’d described.

  He sat with Bixa in Mystica’s quarters, watching the vidscreens. The old lady lay huddled in her bed, wrapped in furs and shivering. She seemed weaker and more frail than ever, but her eyes were glowing with anticipation.

  ‘We are now approaching the Aquarius Nebula,’ came Captain Nox’s voice on the comm. ‘It should be visible any minute now.’

  They all looked eagerly at the screens – but there was just empty black space out there. They could see no sign of the famous nebula. Not a trace of the Twelve Astraeus, either. They couldn’t even see the Axxa Skyhawks they’d expected to find. There was no life whatsoever in the fathomless gulfs outside.

  Lucky kept looking at the endless black, a sense of dread beginning to creep up on him. But as they stared at the blank screens –

  FLASHHH!!!

  – another searing pulse of light scorched their eyes.

  It lit the whole of space, turning all the blackness white: bleaching it out with an unnatural, excruciating glare. Lucky recoiled, and Mystica writhed before the light.

  ‘Not again,’ she gasped, as she coughed and coughed from the depths of her lungs. She was getting worse: no doubt about it.

  This time, the sky stayed white for more than a minute before it faded.

  And on the vidscreens now, traces of strange debris began to appear. Fragments of broken rock, horribly crushed, their very structures disintegrating. Clouds of formless gas, swirling silently through the dark. An endless dance of death – but silent. Utterly silent.

  ‘What is this?’ whispered Mystica. ‘There should be stars here: stars, stars, stars, all singing into space! What happened to them all?’

  Lucky’s mouth was dry now. His ears burned as he strained to hear sounds that did not come. The silence was overwhelming. It seemed to crush down on his chest, as if he was buried beneath all that blackness.

  And as they flew on through the silent debris, only one conclusion became possible. These clouds of gas and fragments of rock: they must be the ruins of the nebula. The only traces of it that remained.

  Somehow, it must have been extinguished; snuffed out like a candle. For no new stars were being born here, and none ever would be again.

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ said Bixa, her needles shrinking back into her hair. ‘How could so many stars die?’

  ‘These stars didn’t just die,’ whispered Mystica. ‘Not so many, not all at once. They must have been killed.’

  Lucky’s skin crawled at the words. ‘What kind of power could do that?’

  ‘And what has become of our family?’ asked Mystica. ‘There were planets here, full of life and hope and promise. Where are they? How can whole worlds just disappear?’

  Frollix’s voice cracked on the comm as the Sunfire steered through the ruins of the nebula. ‘I’m seeing things I don’t understand; things that happened here in the past. A disaster so vast it can’t be natural. A great catastrophe – but what?’

  ‘The Wolf That Eats the Stars,’ said Mystica, her voice quavering. ‘It was here.’

  ‘But what is it? I feel its traces in time, I hear its echoes, but I can’t make sense of it.’

  ‘Hold on,’ said the Captain grimly, on the comm. ‘I’m taking us in to Aquarius, as close as I can get.’

  Lucky could not speak any more. The horror was too great. It was like sailing through a graveyard of stars. Like seeing his own memory obliterated; as if the killing of the nebula had also extinguished his father’s smile.

  Bixa turned away from the vidscreens. ‘I can’t watch,’ she said. ‘Everything I remember is gone. It’s too horrible—’

  ‘There it is!’ cried Mystica suddenly. ‘My star – my beloved star – it still lives!’

  Ahead now, on the other side of the nebula, they could finally see Aquarius: a colossal star at the heart of a system, the sun of many worlds, the centre of an ancient civilization.

  Aquarius was surrounded by spacecraft, blockaded by government shadowships and battleships that ringed the star with a great circle of armour. Yet it was ominously silent, even here. There were no Axxa ships. No battles. No fighting.

  And though Lucky hoped with all his heart to see them, there was no sign of the Twelve Astraeus, either. Professor Byzantine was wrong. They were not behind the blockade. The only thing behind it was Mystica’s star.

  The Sunfire steered a slow, steady course towards Aquarius.

  ‘I don’t think we should look directly at the star,’ Frollix warned on the comm. ‘Just a feeling I’ve got. It could be dangerous. Captain, don’t look at it—’

  FLASHHH!!!

  The star pulsed with blinding white light, and Mystica shuddered with pain. They all looked away from the flash – but even in its indirect glare, Lucky could clearly see that the old lady had been right all along. Aquarius was going supernova. It was dying, and as it died, it was throwing out massive amounts of heat and light. In its death throes, it was outshining all the other stars of the galaxy combined. And its pulses were getting even more brutally bright.

  So bright that this time, the light did not fade.

  One minute. Two minutes. Three . . . The blinding light blazed on; it never left the sky. All around Aquarius, all of space was white. The sky that should have been black was sickeningly bright. The stars were visible only as points of darkness in the white. Everything was inverted.

  ‘Captain?’ came Frollix’s voice on the comm. ‘We’re close enough now, aren’t we?’

  Nox did not reply. The Sunfire kept moving, creeping closer and closer to Aquarius. And now, across its face, Lucky thought he could see something strange. A vast shadow, sharp-edged and solid, cutting into Aquarius, eclipsing the face of the sun.

  ‘By all the Twelve Astraeus!’ whispered Mystica. ‘Is that the Wolf?’

  ‘No,’ said Frollix. ‘Look at it: it’s man-made! It’s some kind of technology. There’s no technology powerful enough to snuff out a whole nebula. Nothing in the whole galaxy could do that!’

  As he spoke, the strange shadow cut deeper into Aquarius, there was another pulse of light –

  FLASHHH!!!

  – and Lucky could hear nothing but the death throes of the star. Its song was like that of some great whale, trapped in nets and bleeding to death, its lifeblood spilling from its broken heart. And the rest of the stars were singing back to it, crying in sorrow, but powerless to help.

  Aquarius was dying – but not naturally. That sharp-edged shadow in space was accelerating the process. It was bleeding out all the star’s heat and light and power in a series of shuddering supernova pulses.

  Whatever this was, if it carried on, Aquarius would soon be like the baby stars of the nebula. A burned-out ruin; a silent cloud of debris.

  The supernova blazed again. Mystica convulsed in agony. Her eyes shut, and she slipped out of consciousness.

  Lucky’s back stiffened. His fists clenched. He couldn’t just stand by and watch this happen. Whatever was going on here – something in him protested against it, rebelled, said, No. Enough.

  ‘We’ve got to stop it!’ he shouted. ‘Whatever that thing is – we’ve got to stop it!’

  FLASHHH!!!

  The Sun
fire tilted violently in space. The floor fell away beneath his feet. He lost his balance, and smashed into the cabin wall.

  The comm crackled with Frollix’s fear. ‘Captain, what are you doing?’

  No answer came back.

  Then Frollix’s voice again. ‘Bixa! Lucky!’ he yelped. ‘Get up here quick! There’s something wrong with the Captain . . . No one’s flying the ship!’

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Lucky and Bixa raced out of Mystica’s cabin. They burst into the cockpit to find Frollix by the Dark Matter drive, and Captain Nox by the front vidscreen. He was staring silently into the heart of the star.

  There on the screen, Lucky could see that unnatural shadow, cutting into Aquarius. And at the heart of the star, he thought for an instant that he saw something else –

  – but his mind couldn’t seem to get a grip on it; his eyes slid away –

  – and then it was gone.

  ‘What happened?’ asked Bixa, rushing to the Captain’s side.

  Nox did not reply. He just stood there, staring into the dying star.

  ‘Captain!’ she urged him. ‘What’s wrong?’

  But still he did not reply. He did not even move. And his eyes, those proud eyes of volcanic fire, looked totally burned out. No stars danced in them now. They were cold and dead and empty, like black holes in the sky.

  ‘Captain?’ said Lucky, shivering.

  ‘Nothing matters,’ croaked Nox at last, in a broken-sounding voice. ‘Nothing matters any more.’

  ‘No!’ said Bixa, staring in horror at her grandfather. ‘Please, Captain, you’ve got to fight it!’

  But Nox just kept staring straight ahead: the million-mile stare.

  And now, seemingly from nowhere, starships were swooping up behind the Sunfire, circling them. Not government ships. Fast ships, with cannon jutting from their wings, like giant birds of prey.