Child of the Stars

Ngona awakes with the sun in her eyes, as she does every morning. Her bed faces a sunward window, and while she could request a shade, or sleep the other way on her bed, there is something comforting about knowing that at least one thing will be the same every day – one constant in a sea of variables.

Ngona has been at the orphanage for five hundred and sixty-two rotations. Before that, she lived on the streets, eating whatever food she could find and sleeping under shop awnings. And longer ago, before even that, she lived with a family who loved her – or maybe she just likes to think she did. In truth, it is too long ago for her to rightly say what is memory and what is longing.

By the time Ngona is in the dining hall, eating a flavorless breakfast, she begins to notice that some of the children are looking at her strangely, maybe enviously. Before she can ask what’s going on, Madame strides into the room, placing one hand on her shoulder.

“Ngona,” she says cheerfully, “if you’ve finished your breakfast, we should get you ready.”

Ngona likes Madame, from what she knows of her. She is never unkind to the children. But with so many orphans to keep under her roof, she never seems to have time for any one of them in particular, and communication is not her strong suit. So Ngona finally asks, as she is scrubbing under her fingernails and Madame is brushing her lilac-colored hair: what is she getting ready for?

Madame’s reply confirms Ngona’s guess: today she has a prospective parent coming to see her and, if all goes according to plan, adopt her. Ngona wonders why she is seemingly the last person in the entire orphanage to know, but she cannot think of a polite way to ask, so she stays quiet. Confusingly, she doesn’t feel excitement or relief, the way she always expects to when she dreams of being taken home by a new family. The feeling in her stomach is more akin to being awake in the middle of the night with nobody to talk to. But she stands up, smooths her shirt, puts on her nice coat to make a good impression, and follows Madame down the hall, into the meeting room.

The room is at the front of the building, a serene and elegantly furnished place with large sunny windows. By the time they get there, a tall, robed figure is already standing by the table, and she turns to face Madame and Ngona as they walk in. Her mouth is smiling. Her eyes are not. They are cold, red-rimmed and pale yellow, and they see too much.

“Ngona,” the woman says, “it’s so good to finally meet you. No need to sit,” she adds, getting up from her chair. “We can make this quick, and you’ll be at your new home in no time.”

Without meaning to, Ngona takes a step backward. Her skin is prickling. Something in the back of her mind is trying to tug her away from the tall stranger, but where can she go?

“Don’t be shy, Ngona,” the woman says, sensing her fear. “A child like you with such special talents needs special attention.” Suddenly Ngona’s ears have stopped hearing, and now the woman’s voice is in her mind. I can teach you so many new ways to use your power, to make it stronger –

Everything is wrong. Nobody is supposed to know about her power. She’s made sure she only ever uses it in secret, lifting little things and turning pages of books without touching them when nobody is looking. Ngona stands still, frozen to the spot, barely breathing. Now the woman is inside her head again, but there are no more words, just a presence and an intent and a rising flood of something that terrifies her, something she doesn’t even recognize.

Then the stranger moves toward her again, and the spell is broken. Before the woman can grab her arm, Ngona is running, out of the room and down the short hall and out of the orphanage and into the street. Behind her, she can hear the woman shouting. Ahead of her, objects are tumbling into the street to block her path. Ngona turns off the main road into an alleyway, thankful that her feet still remember these streets even though she no longer walks them every day. She can feel her pursuer growing farther away and frustrated, but she knows she will not be able to run forever, nor hide from a woman who can crawl inside her mind as long as she is near. As Ngona’s mind scrambles desperately, searching for a way to escape, she draws near to a shipping yard, where men are loading cargo crates into an interplanetary hauler. In an instant, she knows what she must do. No matter where this ship is headed, it will take her away from the woman behind her. For now, everything else is unimportant.

Ngona runs past the ship, and the men take no notice of her – she’s just another child hanging around the docks to see the ships. Once she knows they are not watching her, she doubles back, slipping into the cargo bay when everyone has their back turned. Now that she’s inside the ship, hiding behind piles of goods, she falls to her knees, trying to catch her breath. She feels sure that the men can hear her panting, but they just continue loading up the cargo until the hold is almost completely full. One of them shouts a signal, and the bay doors begin to close, shutting out the light from outside. Once the doors seal, the only light is what filters through a filthy window in the wall of the hold.

Being alone in the dark has never before felt so reassuring.