Free Spinning Starlight by R.C. Lewis

the vehicle, but it doesn’t, despite the way the world blurs by. It feels like a leisurely hovercar ride. It’s not. My
equilibrium can’t take the disconnect, and I close my eyes in a desperate effort not to throw up. A tiny deceleration and change in the vehicle’s vibrations signal the end of the brief
ride. I open my eyes to find Kalkig has already gotten out. The few minutes sitting were enough for my aching body to cramp up, so Tiav helps me, and I get my first look at Ferinne’s version
of a town.
    Podra’s nowhere near the size and scale of Pinnacle, but it’s nothing like the country estate, either. Most of the buildings are between five and eight stories tall. Some plain and
boxy, some elaborate with decorative details. One nearby has intricate scrollwork carved into the corners, reminding me of my father’s old desk. Some buildings are dark, some lit up. Almost
all have colorful signs with those symbols adorning them. The names of various establishments within the building, I’m sure. Some have iconlike pictures, too, but only a few give me clues.
One is definitely a restaurant, but I have a hard time believing another has anything to do with selling birds of prey.
    My eyes lower to street level, and I scarcely notice the other “streamer” cars coming and going in a blur. The people—using the word
people
loosely—walking on
either side of the street demand my attention….
    People like Kalkig—Agnac, Tiav called them—move along on their strange limbs. They’re all larger than Kalkig, so maybe he’s young, and many of them don’t use their
arms at all while walking.
    But there are other kinds. People who are definitely adults, but all smaller than I am, fine-featured and delicate and beautiful. Others so large and muscular, they’d make Reb’s
laserball team forfeit on sight, all of them bald with large eyes in strange colors. Sprinkled among them, people who resemble Tiav or me. Normal people.
    None of them look at me. Most of them look at Tiav.
    A woozy feeling swims from my stomach to my head. I think I’ve forgotten how to breathe.
    Tiav takes my arm to steady me and keeps his voice low. “So, it’s true. The Points haven’t met any aliens yet.”
    I shake my head. No, we definitely have not.

    Tiav takes me to the eighth floor of a particular building. Kalkig comes along, glaring at me the entire time, which I try to ignore. It’s more difficult than I expect.
I’m used to being stared at. I’m not used to the temptation to stare right back.
    The elevator lets us out into a sitting room. No people, thank the Sent—I catch myself. If “Ferri” is real in the form of Ferinne, there’s no telling what roots the
Sentinel or Wraith may have here. Regardless, I’m not sure I’m ready for an up-close alien encounter beyond Kalkig. Comfortable couches fill the space, some of them clearly designed for
different anatomies, and a large window overlooks the town. Tiav walks past all that to a door that opens on his approach, then through a small outer room—also empty—and into a larger
one. Not empty.
    A woman sits on a low couch, studying symbols being projected into the air from another com-tablet. She’s tall, with skin a bit darker than Tiav’s, but the same angular features. A
necklace with a crystal pendant catches my eye, but I don’t get a good look at it. She looks up when we come in, and any surprise she feels at seeing me is summed up in a minute raising of an
eyebrow. I’m pretty sure this woman hasn’t doubted herself a day in her life. Every inch of her screams self-assured and calm.
    “This is what you found?”
    “Yes, Mother. She came through…from Sampati.”
    That gets a bigger reaction from her as she turns off the projection. “Keep talking, Tiav’elo.”
    He sums up the little he knows—that I can’t speak so he’s calling me Sam, that I can’t read or write, and that there seems to be a danger in me going back.
    “Is that true?”