Starstruck

by Brenda Hiatt

CHAPTER 15: Hypothesis verification

  Dinner was delicious—baked salmon with apricot glaze, asparagus, and tiny red potoatoes—but super awkward, especially at first.

  Rigel started to sit next to me at the long table, but Allister Adair cleared his throat and he paused. Shim motioned Rigel further down the table, then sat next to me himself. Dr. Stuart sat on my other side before Allister could, to my relief. There was something about the way he watched me that made me nervous.

  Nara sat right across from me and kept smiling and bobbing her head every time I looked her way. That kind of weirded me out, so I tried to avoid her eye. Also Kyna's, since she still looked critical. Flynn and Bain both seemed to be analyzing me like I was some kind of curiosity. So I mostly kept my eyes on my plate.

  At first no one seemed to know what to talk about, since Dr. Stuart had forbidden them to question me over dinner—which made me feel like I shouldn't ask questions, either. But then Rigel's dad asked Shim something about the political situation back on Mars. Shim answered, then Kyna offered an opinion, and soon everyone except Rigel and me began to weigh in on the subject. I didn't understand a fraction of it, but it was fascinating all the same—when I listened.

  "Faxon has postponed elections again," Mr. Stuart said at one point. "He claims to need more time to recruit polling inspectors, but no one believes that excuse."

  "Isn't this the third time they've been postponed?" Nara asked.

  "The fourth," Kyna said. "They're six years overdue now. The man is nothing but an unbaen –a dictator," she clarified with a glance at me,"—at this point."

  There was a lot more, stuff about eroding the rights of the people and military tribunals and how Faxon and his followers were able to overcome the genetic taboo against killing. They also talked about an underground resistance, and it sounded like everyone present had friends or family who were members. Allister mentioned a sister in the resistance who had been forced to emigrate to Earth less than a year ago to escape Faxon's purges.

  He gave me another one of those odd, probing looks as he spoke and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. Maybe he thought I should be voicing an opinion if I was really who the Stuarts claimed I was? But even though I knew this was all important stuff I should try to learn about, most of the political talk went right over my head.

  Which meant I spent most of the meal trying to catch Rigel's eye further down the table without anyone else noticing—and not having much luck. When would I get that explanation he'd promised, and what was it? This whole not-touching thing was starting to bother me a lot more than I wanted to admit. I tried a little harder to listen to the conversation so I wouldn't have to think about it.

  "Even if we knew how many followers Faxon has here on Earth," Shim was saying, "we have no way of identifying them. If we could, I'm confident we could persuade them to our cause. Especially now that—" He glanced at me and broke off.

  "Can there possibly be more than a handful?" Nara sounded a little fearful. "Once here, away from any risk of reprisal from Faxon's guard, surely they would revert to a civilized way of thinking."

  One or two of the others nodded, but Mr. Stuart looked skeptical. "Their families on Mars could still be at risk. I wouldn't be surprised if Faxon has a few hand-picked followers on Earth as spies, since he must know Echtrans are in contact with the resistance back there. We're not nearly as careful as we should be. We've grown complacent in our relative safety here."

  There was an uneasy murmur of agreement, then some speculation about who could and couldn't be trusted. Since I didn't know any of the names, my attention wandered back to Rigel.

  Dessert was mint chocolate chip ice cream, and I was touched that Dr. Stuart obviously remembered it was my favorite from Friday night—and maybe that I hadn't had a chance to finish the dish I'd ordered then. This time I made a point of eating every bite, since I knew once the meal was over the interrogation would begin again.

  Sure enough, the moment the last person—Rigel's dad—set down his spoon, Kyna said, "Now can we finally get back to the matter at hand?" She looked pointedly at me, then at Shim and Allister.

  Dr. Stuart gave a little sigh. "Yes, I suppose we had better. We can have coffee and tea in the living room." She rose, squeezed my shoulder reassuringly, then went into the kitchen to get it while the rest of us filed out of the dining room.

  I was last, hanging back in hopes of getting Rigel alone for a second or two so I could get at least a hint from him, but his grandfather ushered him out of the room ahead of me. I wondered if he'd guessed what I was trying to do.

  A couple of minutes later, I was again seated in what I was coming to think of as the Inquisition Chair, with everyone else ranged around me, coffee cups in hand.

  "Now, Miss, ah, Truitt." Allister, the one who intimidated me most, leaned forward. "You say you never had any suspicion that you were anything beyond a Duchas, er, native Earthling until these past few weeks?"

  I nodded.

  "So you never experienced anything unusual, never had any . . . abilities beyond what the other children around you possessed?"

  "Abilities?" I wondered what he was getting at. "Not unless you count the static electricity thing."

  His brows went up. "Explain, please."

  So I told him about how I fried computers and cell phones and watches. I didn't say anything about that jolt Rigel and I had given Bryce Farmer since I wasn't sure if that was something either of us were supposed to have done. I kept glancing at Rigel as I talked, hoping he'd give me some signal of what I should or shouldn't say, but with so many people watching, he really couldn't. So I played it safe.

  When I finished, Allister nodded, though he didn't look completely satisfied. "Bain?" he said.

  "Yes. Marsha—or may I call you Emileia?" Bain looked about Mr. Stuart's age and was nearly—though not quite—as handsome. His smile seemed genuine.

  "Um, Marsha is fine, or M—that's what my closest friends call me." I shoved away an errant image of Bri.

  He nodded. "M, then. How are your grades in school? Any special interests?"

  So I talked a little about astronomy and the fact that I was in Honors English, and he seemed pleased that my grades were good. Next he asked several odd questions that seemed like some kind of personality test, then about my life with my aunt and uncle—how they treated me, what my chores were, what our house was like. I couldn't imagine how any of this was important, but I answered everything truthfully.

  After half an hour of this, I could see one or two of the others shifting impatiently in their seats. Finally, Kyna spoke up.

  "Is all of this really necessary, Bain? We could be here all night while you dance around the edges of things. Clearly she is of Martian ancestry, is of approximately the right age, and seems mentally balanced. What we need is irrefutable genetic proof."

  "No!" Rigel stood as he spoke, startling me with his sudden forcefulness. "M, you don't have to let them—"

  "Young man," Allister snapped, "if you want to remain, you will control yourself."

  But Dr. Stuart stood, too. "Rigel is right, Allister. At her age, the traditional test is out of the question—nor is it necessary. We have far less invasive methods now."

  I was really starting to get scared now, but Shim unexpectedly backed her up. "I agree. A standard hair follicle test will tell us unequivocally what we need to know. The ritual, if you still feel it is necessary in this day and age, can be performed once she is an adult."

  Allister was frowning, clearly not convinced. "If we're counting on this girl—assuming she proves to be the Sovereign—to galvanize the resistance, our case will be far stronger if we can certify that she has passed the traditional test. That will bring the staunch royalists on board in a way nothing else could, as well as having a better chance of swaying the skeptics."

  To my dismay, some of the others were nodding in agreement, though Nara commented in a half-whisper, "If the other Royals on the Council hadn't made excuses not to come to
night, they wouldn't be skeptics!"

  Finally, though he didn't look happy about it, Shim nodded as well. "You make a valid point, Allister. It would strengthen our position and reassure the entire Council." He glanced at Nara. "But by requiring such a thing of a child, do we not risk lowering ourselves to Faxon's level? It has been a dozen generations since a minor was asked to undergo the ritual. At that time we didn't have the technology we have now."

  I couldn't take it anymore. Before they could begin arguing again, I spoke up, a little more loudly than I intended. "Excuse me, but just what is this ritual? Can you at least tell me that?"

  Shim looked startled, but then he smiled. "Of course. I was forgetting that you wouldn't know. Though we can now map a complete genome in moments with a skin cell or a hair follicle, in times past we could only do so by drawing blood—something we haven't had to resort to for generations. It is, however, still a tradition that each new Sovereign be certified the, ah, old-fashioned way."

  "In front of qualified witnesses," Allister added. "In this case, a four member majority of the Echtran Council, as well as two highly ranked Echtran scientists." Then, leaning toward me with a more kindly expression than I'd yet seen him wear, he asked, "Your . . . M, would you be willing to have a small amount of blood drawn for a genetic test?"

  Nara made an outraged hiss and Rigel's parents looked upset, but I nearly collapsed with relief. I'd been expecting something much, much worse.

  "Oh. Um, sure. That is, I don't mind."

  Allister reached inside his jacket and pulled out a small, elaborately enameled metal case, which he handed to Flynn. I tensed again when Flynn opened the case and took out a syringe—not a regular, modern syringe, but an enormous, old-fashioned thing that looked like it came from some mad scientist's lab.

  "Is that the actual foare rioga from Mars?" asked Mr. Stuart with evident surprise. "How do you come to have it here, Allister?"

  "As my family has long been tasked with verifying the bloodline of the Sovereign, I took the precaution of bringing it with me when I left Mars."

  The others seemed impressed, but all I could do was stare at that wicked needle. It had to be nearly three inches long!

  "Good thinking," Kyna murmured. "Faxon's goons would probably have destroyed it, had they found it."

  "My thoughts exactly," Allister agreed. "Shall we begin, then?"

  With a quick nod, Flynn came toward me. Why did it have to be him?

  Dr. Stuart must have noticed my uneasiness, because she quickly came forward. "If you'll allow me? She knows me better."

  To my relief, Flynn handed her the syringe without argument. Even using that antique pig-sticker, I didn't think Rigel's mother would hurt me—much.

  But as I held out my arm to her, everyone else moved to form a circle around us. Rigel still looked upset, but the others just looked expectant. Then the chanting began.

  "Fuil an thiarna, foaru. Finné anois tabhair ar fad saol rioga. Tastail ionachta go deo."

  Everybody but Rigel said the words together—even Dr. Stuart muttered them as she took a tiny device from her pocket to shine a purple light on the inside of my elbow and then on the needle—I assumed to sterilize them. Though her expression was still kind and her touch was calming, the weird chanting gave me goosebumps. What, exactly, had I agreed to?

  The chanting stopped and she inserted the tip of the needle, drew out a tiny bit of blood, used the purple light on my arm again and it was over. I'd barely felt a thing.

  "Thank you, Marsha," she said. "That was very brave."

  I couldn't see what the big deal was—I'd had shots that hurt more—but I smiled at her, wishing there were some way to let her know how grateful I was that she cared. Then I looked over at Rigel, and he was smiling too. He caught my eye and gave me a cheerful thumbs-up that made me almost giddy. Everything was going to be fine.

  "Now, Flynn," Dr. Stuart said, handing him the syringe.

  Flynn held the syringe up for all to see and Allister intoned—there was no other word for it—"I call you all as witnesses that this is the lifeblood of she who claims Sovereignty. In full view of both Royal and Scientific representatives of the Echtran Council, we perform this test to determine whether she is of the true lineage, genetically predestined to lead our people in peace, in wisdom and in kindness."

  "Finné muid anois. We so witness," they all answered together. I could see tears in Nara's eyes as she spoke the words.

  With a flourish, Flynn injected the blood sample into a complicated little gizmo in the case and pressed a button. It hummed faintly and tiny green and yellow lights flashed on and off repeatedly on one end of the box. Everyone waited tensely.

  I knew from TV crime shows that our own labs would take at least a few days to get any kind of genetic results from blood. But Dr. Stuart had barely finished refilling everyone's coffee cups when the gizmo beeped and Flynn made a little "ah" noise.

  "Well?" Allister asked him impatiently.

  He held up the little silver box, which now displayed a single white light. He had an odd look on his face—relieved, but not what I'd call happy. "She is exactly who we'd hoped—the daughter of Mikal, son of Leontine, and his wife Galena."

  "I knew it!" Nara exclaimed, her tears overflowing as she smiled from ear to ear. "It was obvious the moment I saw her. And such bravery, at such a young age!"

  They were all talking at once now, sounding both excited and relieved. Kyna, who had been so curt and reserved before, actually grinned at me.

  "I'm so sorry I doubted, Excellency," she exclaimed. "You can have no idea what a relief . . . how important this is to everyone, what it will mean for both Mars and—" She broke off abruptly with a glance at Shim, who I saw had raised a warning eyebrow. "That is, we're all very happy," she concluded.

  "We are indeed," Shim said quickly. "We do apologize for putting you through this, Excellency, but we had to be sure. Now, we are." He rose and bowed deeply to me his right fist against his chest. Everyone else did the same.

  It was all I could do to keep my mouth from falling open. Shim was easily the most impressive person I'd ever met, and he was bowing to me? It seemed so backward.

  "I don't get it," I said. "If all you needed was a blood test, why didn't we do that as soon as I got here tonight?" It definitely would have made for a less stressful evening!

  Everyone in the room stared at me, various degrees of shock on their faces.

  "Oh, but my dear," Nara began, bobbing up and down.

  Shim silenced her with a wave. "Again, we forget you have none of the cultural traditions —taboos, if you will— that we take for granted. Are you aware that among Martians, the taking of human life is our greatest prohibition?"

  "Yes. The Stuarts told me about that." Though if that taboo really worked, I'd still have grandparents, and maybe even parents, of my own.

  "I assume they did not tell you that the prohibition extends to the taking of blood. Blood is tied so closely to life that, even though we are now more scientifically advanced—especially by Earth standards—we still cannot easily overcome our ingrained aversion to spilling it, even for legitimate medical reasons. Because of that, we have gone to great lengths to develop medical tests that do not require removing blood from the body. On Mars, it is so rarely necessary today as to be almost unheard of."

  "Except in the case of verifying lineage for each new Sovereign," Allister said. "The ritual you have undergone here tonight has proven indisputably that you possess that lineage. It was necessary."

  "Not necessary to all of us," Nara declared staunchly, making me smile. I was really starting to like her, even if she did gush. "My dear, I wish you could understand what it means to me—what it will mean to everyone—that we've found you after all of this time, after believing the ruling line of the Royal class was extinct. It's . . . it's . . ." She gestured with her hands but seemed unable to put her feelings into words.

  "An enormous boon to the resistance, at the very least," Kyna finis
hed for her, her expression as approving of me now as it had been skeptical before. "You will be a symbol of hope to them, Excellency. Something to energize them and to focus their efforts."

  "Yes!" Nara agreed enthusiastically. "We must get word out at once! The Council can use MARSTAR to notify all Echtrans, while sending—"

  Panicked, I put up both hands, stopping her. "Wait! I don't want to be a . . . a symbol. And I'm definitely no political leader! I'm only a sophomore in high school. And I don't know anything about . . . well, Martian history and politics and stuff."

  Dr. Stuart put a hand on my shoulder. "She's right. We're moving much too quickly. Though we need to begin planning our next steps, surely there's no need to disrupt Marsha's— Emileia's —life immediately. As she says, she is only fifteen, too young to assume the throne even if all obstacles were removed. She needs to get used to the idea, to be allowed to grow into whatever role she may eventually take."

  "I agree," Shim said. "She will have much to learn over the years to come, but as a youth, her normal development should still be permitted. Right now, the most important thing is that she remain safe." He swiveled around, looking seriously at each person in the room, in turn. "That completely rules out MARSTAR. In fact, those of us here must speak of this to no one whose loyalty we cannot trust absolutely. For the truth to be known prematurely could be disastrous in more ways than even I can imagine."

  "Agreed," Kyna said, though now she was frowning. "But Shim, you can't seriously mean to leave her here in this unprotected little hamlet, now that her identity is proved? As you say, her safety is paramount. We must relocate her at once to a place where she can be properly guarded."

  "I agree," Allister said firmly. "As the one Royal representative of the Council present, I consider myself personally responsible for the Sovereign's safety. Appropriate measures must be taken immediately."

  There was a murmur of agreement from a couple of the others. My panic, which had subsided for a moment, surged back in full force. Relocate me? And safe from what, exactly? Before I could ask, Shim put up a hand.

  "We can work out such details later," he said. Allister started to sputter a protest, but Shim silenced him with a glance, then turned to me with a kindly smile. "If it should become necessary for you to take any sort of active role, my dear, we will of course let you know, but I don't anticipate that happening just yet."

  Relief flooded through me, and I saw Rigel relax visibly as well. Allister looked like he had more he wanted to say, but he didn't dare interrupt Shim.

  "Of course," Shim added, "I must caution you not to speak of this to anyone else. I presume none of your, ah, non-Martian friends have any suspicions?"

  I shook my head emphatically. "Of course not! They'd just think I was crazy. I definitely won't tell them, or my aunt or uncle, either."

  He smiled again and, as before, the contagious warmth of it reassured me. "Good. It is important that you do nothing to draw attention to yourself. Should your existence become generally known, there are those who might seek you for . . . less than benevolent reasons."

  Before I could ask what he meant, Dr. Stuart spoke. "We should get you home. I did promise your aunt that we wouldn't keep you late, as it's a school night."

  A glance at the antique clock on the mantel showed it was a quarter to nine. Had I really been here more than three hours? I nodded and stood.

  "It . . . it was nice meeting you all," I said, the words sounding lame—inadequate—even as I spoke them.

  As one, they all rose and bowed to me again, their right fists over their hearts, Rigel's parents included. Even Rigel inclined his head, and that bothered me even more than all these adults treating me like royalty—which definitely weirded me out.

  Then they weirded me out even more by chanting, in unison, "Benevolent Sovereign, scion of Sovereigns, steer the future of our people."

  At least, the grownups did. Rigel didn't, which was good, because it made me feel like I'd stumbled into some bizarre cult, with me at its center. Almost immediately, though, the weirdness dissipated as they all smiled and acted normal again, and Rigel's mom ushered me out of the room toward the front door.

  Rigel came along, though I noticed Allister frowning after him.

  I waited until we were out of the house to say, "Okay, so what was that about? Because I'm not sure I've ever felt more awkward."

  Dr. Stuart patted my arm. (Rigel, I noticed, still didn't touch me, though I needed it more than ever now.) "I'm sorry about that, dear. It's the traditional farewell to the Sovereign, and none of us Echtrans have had occasion to use it for, well, decades, expatriates that we are. It was a way for us all to reconnect to our heritage. I'm sure it was a bit disconcerting for you, however."

  "Um, yeah, a little." That was putting it mildly.

  I was still feeling strange and disoriented as we got into the car, but then Rigel slid in next to me in the back and put his hand on mine—for the first time today—and suddenly I wasn't worried anymore. Tentatively, not sure whether this would last or not, I smiled at him, and he smiled back. Then he whispered, so low that I doubted even his mother could hear him, "I'll explain soon, I promise."

  With his hand on mine, and that promise to cling to, I felt better than I had all evening.

  They got me home just before nine, which meant Aunt Theresa didn't have any reason to complain. Still, her expression was sour when I greeted her.

  "Your friend Brianna called," she informed me. "Twice."

  "Oh, thanks." With all that had happened, I'd completely spaced our fight and tentative truce on the bus. "Can I call her back now?"

  "I suppose," she said, looking pointedly at the clock on the stove. "Don't talk long."

  Nodding, I quickly dialed Bri's number. It rang five times before she picked up, and I imagined her standing there, checking the caller ID and debating whether to answer.

  "Hello?"

  "Hey, Bri, sorry I wasn't home when you called."

  There was a brief silence. "Yeah, your aunt said you were over at Rigel's. You didn't say you'd made it to that stage yet."

  "It happened after Friday, and you and I haven't exactly talked much since then," I reminded her. "But I don't know about 'stages.' His grandfather is visiting and Rigel wanted me to meet him, that's all." I felt terrible lying to her when I was trying to patch things up, but what choice did I have?

  "All? That sounds pretty big to me," Bri said, some of the old excitement creeping back into her voice.

  We talked for another ten minutes or so, and by the end of the conversation, I felt like we'd gotten at least partway back to being best friends. I hoped it would last, but after tonight's events, I was starting to realize that our friendship could never be what it was before. There were just too many things I couldn't tell her. That I couldn't tell anyone.

  Ever.