Of the Threads That Connect the Stars

Prompt:

Addison's karma meter is full. Instant karma (good or bad) is coming his/her way...

by Kim Eggleston 

 ***

Sometimes, if you give a little nudge, a little pull this way or that, all these threads that make up the universe give way -- just a little bit -- just enough to get you out of a tight spot, maybe.

And Addy was very definitely in a tight spot.

Something whizzed past her head as she booked it as fast as she could toward a promising tangle of old junk ships, cast-offs from salvage runs, and unidentified metal scraps that might offer her some cover.

Who in damnation would be shooting real (expensive!) bullets at an unarmed 13-year-old girl? Addy had a good guess; probably the stupid Aphelion Drifters.

She reached some solid cover against the side of a beat-up exit hatch and braved a peek back at her pursuers. Yep, Drifters. They had a thing for her ever since that incident with one of their supply caches six months ago. Couldn't just let it go, seems like.

There were three of them that she could see, one stalking up on her left, with an angle that would lead him to spot her pretty darn soon. The two on the right were just a bit lazier, barrels pointed up, exchanging some jokes while they shot at kids. Shining examples of humanity, those guys. But it would give her the time she needed.

"Been saving you up for a day like today," she whispered to herself as she began to concentrate. She could feel the light burning bright white inside her, stored up over days, weeks of tending it carefully, not using any, trying to do all the good she can. She didn't have a better name for it than that -- it was just something she could do, like part of her, but not really. More like part of everything, and she could just feel it a little better than most.

She focused on the Drifter to her left. The threads surrounding him were mostly taut, vibrating with purpose as he scanned the junkyard for her. But there was a soft patch right in the center of him, like a mud puddle soaking into the threads where his light should be. She didn't know what it meant and didn't care.

Addy went down into the light even further, letting go of everything she could see and hear on the surface -- that was dangerous, but it was only for a second. Then, it was an immensely simple thing to do, suddenly, to just pull gently on that one thread that connected her to the Drifter. (You could find a thread connecting to anything if you were looking in the right place.) It hummed as she sent the light coursing along it into the soft patch.

She let go of the light and got herself into a low crouch, waiting for it to hit him. And hit him, it did.

The Drifter dropped his gun to his side abruptly, and his reddening face broke out into a sweat. "Vasquez!" He called out to one of his squadmates. "I gotta..."

"What'd you say?" The other Drifter yelled back from too far away. He was already buckling, knees to the ground, tears streaming. He was muttering something Addy couldn't quite hear as she scooted across his sight line, putting as much distance between herself and the other two Drifters as fast as she could. It's not like he could see her anymore anyway.

She made it all the way to the truethorn-covered fallen-in fence on the other side of the junkyard, and over it, before his pals found him.

It had sounded like he was saying something about, "Get them out of me" and then something even less intelligible about "claws."

Guess he hadn't done anyone much good lately.