Starbreak by Phoebe North

carried long metallic prods at their sides. As the gates swung open, groaning on hinges gone green, the aliens examined us with black, lively eyes. In whistling tones they conversed with one another. Then they lifted our arms, smelled our hair, bared their teeth. I watched as Aleksandra pulled away from one of them, growling, as though their touch seared her skin. But I stayedas still and calm as I could. For one thing I didn’t want to scare Ettie, who stood just a small way up ahead, her bound hands twisting in their shackle. For another, I thought if I watched carefully, then perhaps I’d see my boy—if not among our fur-faced escorts, then definitely among the city’s wider inhabitants.
    The atmosphere inside the city walls was different. It was as warm and fragrant as summer here, the air as sweet as fruit left to rot on the Asherah ’s damp ground. On the ship such a smell would have only attracted houseflies. Here there were no insects. But there were people. Thousands of them. They loitered by the mouths of buildings and underneath the thick canopy of the interior forest. It seemed that they’d gathered for our arrival, and they craned their necks as we passed among them. Many of them were furred, small in stature. They seemed bold—dashing down the thoroughfares to catch a glimpse, grabbing for us as we walked by.
    But they weren’t alone. There were other creatures, smooth-skinned, their bodies shining like rubies in the afternoon sunlight. They wore gowns stitched from bolts of smooth, metallic fabric, but even from beneath the lengths of cloth, I could smell them, summer-sweet as they perspired. They kept to the edges of the streets, and though their gazes were no less curious, they seemed somehow afraid of us. Most clutched the nearby hands of their companions—long, three-fingered hands—and, owlishly, watched.
    They stood three or four heads taller than the aliens who guided us through the streets; one or two heads taller than any of us. And as we passed, they twisted their spines, gazing down curiously. Their bodies coiled and crept like vines. It reminded me of something.
    It reminded me of the boy.
    He was here, he had to be. I whipped my head about, searching. But if he was tucked somewhere among all these bright, shining people, then I didn’t find him. Only teeth and eyes and fingers greeted me, probing, cold. I stumbled at the sight, but then one of the creatures pressed his weapon against my spine, pushing me forward. I walked on.
    Up ahead Ettie cried. I heard Rebbe Davison trying to comfort her, repeating over and over again that everything would be all right soon. But I didn’t feel so certain. It was so crowded here—in the pavilion up ahead were hundreds of aliens, lazing beneath the dripping vines. And they all watched us, their toothy mouths open, murmuring “Hyuuu-man, hyuu-man” as we passed. No wonder Ettie was upset.
    “I’m scared! I’m scared!” she panted, and her progress stopped dead. She wouldn’t go any farther. The others from the Asherah turned back to look at her, but pressed by prods and alien hands, they all walked on. I felt my heart squeeze hard in my chest. Rushing ahead, I crouched down so that our gazes met. Her eyes were the color ofmahogany, flecked with amber bits. And they were full of tears.
    “Ettie,” I said, my voice serious. I didn’t want to lie to her. That’s what the grown-ups had always done to me, telling me that my mother would be fine, that my family would be fine. They’d said that we just had to keep our chins up and live on and everything would be okay. But I’d been smart enough to hear their lies even then—even though people thought I was nothing more than a stupid little girl. Ettie was smarter than that now. “It’s scary, isn’t it? This place. So much bigger than the Asherah .”
    She reached her small, dirty hands up, cradling them over mine as she gave her head a fierce nod. “I don’t like the way they look at