by Brenda Hiatt
“The summer dates were chosen to interfere with your school year as little as possible.” Mrs. O’Gara spoke briskly now. “But these new developments outweigh that in importance.”
Sure, all of this was way more important than school—I’d realized that a while ago. But it would still cause a lot of questions, both at school and at home, to leave before the semester was over.
“Can two or three weeks really make that much difference?” I knew from my longtime astronomy hobby (with an extra focus on Mars these past few months) that launch windows between Earth and Mars only happened every twenty-six months, and only lasted a month or so.
“You’re thinking of Earth ships.” Mr. O’s smile was almost—but not quite—patronizing. “Ours travel much faster, giving us a longer window of opportunity for launching.”
Oh. I hadn’t studied much about the Martian space program yet, but I should have guessed that, as advanced as they were. “Then when would we leave?”
“The first transport is scheduled to leave around the start of your spring break, three weeks from now.”
“Three weeks?” I practically squeaked. I’d been excited about leaving in three months, but— “That’s…that’s crazy. Isn’t it? I mean, the politics on Mars can’t change that fast, can they?”
Mrs. O’Gara leaned forward and caught my eye, then turned to the others. “I need to discuss a bit of private Council business with Emileia. Would you all mind waiting in the car? It will only take a moment, and then we’ll take you home, Rigel.”
Though Sean and Molly looked surprised and Rigel looked worried, no one argued. Mrs. O waited until they were inside the van with the door closed to put a hand on my shoulder—which I appreciated, since she now had Sean’s omni.
“It’s important for you to know that there’s much more at stake here than mere politics.” Her blue eyes held mine, her voice deadly serious. “None of the others, not even my husband, are aware of the larger issue, but you should be.”
Breathing suddenly became harder. “You mean…the Grentl?” I’d gotten in the habit of never thinking about that race of potentially hostile, super-advanced aliens, since it was such a huge secret I’d promised not to tell even Rigel.
Mrs. O nodded. “A message has come from them—the first since Faxon’s overthrow—and no one on Mars can decipher or respond to it. Our hope—our fervent hope—is that you will be able to do both, as soon as possible. The fates of both Mars and Earth may depend upon it.”
CHAPTER 2
Sean O’Gara (shawn oh-GAYR-uh): Son of Quinn and Lily O’Gara; destined Cheile Rioga (Royal Consort) to Princess Emileia
Sean
“So, what was that last bit about?” I ask when Mum joins us in the minivan.
She raises an eyebrow at me, the way she does. “Council business, as I said, and none of your concern.”
I glance over at Rigel, on Molly’s other side. “You mean something he’s not allowed to know about?” I can’t resist the dig. I saw how he acted the second M’s aunt went up to bed, like he wanted to drag M off to some corner and make out with her. Plus M seemed just a little too happy at the idea of not becoming Sovereign after all, and I know Rigel’s the reason why.
“No, something that concerns only the Council and the Princess.” Mum gives me one of her looks and I know better than to push it.
I remember when she first replaced Uncle Allister on the Echtran Council back in December, there were a couple of meetings so secret she couldn’t even tell Dad what they were about, even though she was clearly upset after that second one.
“So, Rigel, are you excited that we’re leaving for Mars so soon?” Molly obviously wants to change the subject before I can take my bad mood out on Rigel again. “I can’t wait to get back and show you and M around and all.”
He shrugs. “I guess.” Then, to my parents, “These Royals who don’t want M to become Sovereign, they won’t do anything worse than campaign, will they? I mean, could she be in any actual danger?”
“I wouldn’t think so,” my dad says, with a quick glance at Mum.
She shakes her head. “We certainly don’t expect that, though of course, as her Bodyguard, you’ll be told if we hear anything along those lines.”
Bodyguard. Right. It’s all I can do not to laugh. Rigel’s a year younger than I am, just a sophomore, nowhere near old enough to be a proper Bodyguard to our next Sovereign. But that’s one of the conditions M insisted on when she made her deal with the Council back in December.
Molly starts talking about Mars again, and Bailerealta, where we lived for almost two years before moving to Jewel, but I’m really not paying attention. It’s taking all my self-control not to say any of the stuff I want to say to Rigel while M’s not here to stop me.
Because while I’ve done my best to ignore the truth for the past two months, it’s always there, niggling at me: M is no closer to being my girlfriend now than she ever was. It’s still purely an act, a part she only plays because the Council says she has to. Not that she’s been doing a great a job of it. Hell, she usually avoids touching me at all, because of that tingle we both get. The one she refuses to acknowledge. It must be as obvious to everybody else as it is to me that we’re not really a couple, that her heart isn’t in it.
And that’s what hurts. Because my heart definitely is.
During all those years everybody believed Princess Emileia was dead, I clung to a hope—a wish, really—that they were wrong. Even though I couldn’t remember her, could barely remember a time before she was presumed dead, I grew up thinking about her, thinking about what my life would be like if she was still around. I thought about her so much I practically conjured her. For a few years, when I was little, I actually believed she—or maybe her ghost—was always with me. That we were friends. Best friends, even though nobody could sense her but me.
I outgrew that particular fantasy by the time I was nine or ten, but I still thought about her a lot. When word came last fall that Princess Emileia really was alive, I was beyond happy. It was like every wish I’d ever made had come true. When Uncle Allister suggested we move to Jewel so she and I could get to know each other, I wanted to leave on the very next plane.
But dear Uncle Allister didn’t bother to mention that Emileia was already dating another Echtran. Sure, the whole Stuart family was mentioned in reports of the big battle with Faxon’s people that came so close to killing our Princess for real, but only in passing,. So I knew Rigel Stuart existed, but it wasn’t until my first day at Jewel High that I had any inkling something was going on between them. It’s possible I overreacted a little when I found out. But who could blame me?
Anyway, ever since that first two or three weeks, when I was still struggling to reconcile the real Emileia—M—with my fantasy version, I’ve behaved pretty decently to Stuart, all things considered. I mean, not only is he dating the girl I’m supposed to be with, but he manages to form some stupid genetic anomaly bond with her, which is totally not okay. Then he puts her in danger all over again, not to mention risking every Martian on Mars and Earth, by running off with her! The worst is, she acts like he didn’t do anything wrong at all.
Meanwhile, no matter how well I play basketball, no matter how much every other dumb girl in Jewel flirts with me, I can’t even get M to notice me. At all.
So yeah, I have lots of reasons to hate Rigel Stuart. But because M wants me to, I try to act like we’re friends. In spite of how much he’s screwed things up for me, for Mars, for the future of the whole damned human race. About the only good thing I can say about him is that he seems to love M almost as much as I do. And, much as it kills me to admit it, M loves him back.
Which will make it a lot harder to convince her that I’m the one who’s her ultimate destiny. Still, I’m not giving up. Ever. There’s way too much at stake, and not only for me.
I just have to get smarter about it.
CHAPTER 3
Grentl (GREN-tuhl): advanced non-human alien race from an unknown part
of the galaxy; likely founders of underground human colony on Mars
Sitting in church the next day I still felt dazed. How could I possibly be leaving the planet in just three weeks? Maybe to save the world?
By now I was almost used to these disorienting, living-in-a-sci-fi-novel moments. But the idea that the fate of two worlds might rest on my totally unprepared, inexperienced, inadequate shoulders went beyond disorienting to downright terrifying.
Rigel picked up on my fear the moment he and his parents arrived, even from the opposite side of the sanctuary. What’s wrong? he thought, clearly alarmed.
One more thing to worry about: keeping Rigel from picking up on how freaked I was, and why. I took a deep breath, tamping down my fear before answering him.
My aunt, like always. I couldn’t remember ever outright lying to him before. I didn’t like it. Plus the whole going to Mars in three weeks, thing, I added truthfully. I worked harder to squash down my anxiety, along with any errant thoughts about scary, non-human aliens.
Yeah, that’s pretty freaky, he agreed, especially for you. All I have to do is play Bodyguard, which I’d do whether they wanted me to or not. But you—
Sean leaned over just then and Rigel broke off his thought.
“Hey, you okay?” Sean asked in that sub-whisper only Martians could hear. “Guess we shouldn’t have sprung the change of plans on you so suddenly last night, huh?”
Oops. I obviously needed to control my face as well as my thoughts. “I’m fine, just not used to the idea yet.” Lying to Sean didn’t make me feel nearly as guilty as lying to Rigel.
Even though the Stuarts no longer shared our pew, Rigel and I had gotten so good at communicating over distance recently that he was still able to sense more of my thoughts and feelings than was safe.
You’re still way on edge, M, he sent halfway through the sermon. Anything I can do to help? They can’t expect you to do the impossible, you know. Just your best.
And if my best wasn’t good enough? I hastily stifled that thought and tried to focus on the sermon instead, but it might as well have been random words in Greek.
What would the Council would do if Rigel found out about the Grentl and they found out he found out? I remembered them using the word “treason” at least once when swearing me to secrecy. If nothing else, it would give them the excuse they needed to separate us again.
What was that? Something about the Council? They’re not threatening you—us—again, are they?
Crap. Just a bad dream I had last night. Sorry, didn’t mean to worry you.
To my relief, he seemed to believe me—and it wasn’t so far from the truth. I’d lain awake half the night, too scared to sleep.
For the next few minutes I deliberately counted the bricks on the wall behind the altar, forcing myself to take deep, even breaths like during meditation in taekwondo class. It helped. Some. Then the sermon ended and everyone started singing, which helped even more, since we couldn’t sing and “talk” at the same time.
That left me free to worry—very privately—how long I could keep such a big secret from Rigel and exactly how big a disaster it might be if I didn’t.
That evening, I found out. Sean invited me over after dinner, which he did a lot these days and, like always, Aunt Theresa was totally okay with me going—which she never used to be when it was Rigel. But it was Mrs. O’Gara, not Sean, who opened the door when I knocked.
“I hope you won’t be disappointed, dear, but Sean and Molly have gone out with their father so we can discuss Council business more thoroughly—and privately.” I could hear voices in the living room behind her, which meant other Council members were already there.
“No, that’s fine. I, uh, need to know exactly what they expect of me.” I definitely wasn’t disappointed Sean wouldn’t have yet another chance to convince me to play my “girlfriend” role more believably.
I followed Mrs. O into the living room and was startled to see the entire Echtran Council standing there, all seven of them, though only Breann, Malcolm and Mrs. O lived in Jewel. Those must have been some quick travel arrangements! They all saluted me by bowing, right fists over hearts. I used to flinch or blush when they did that, but now I just inclined my head like I was supposed to.
Rigel’s grandfather, Shim, by far the oldest member of the Council, spoke first. “Thank you for joining us this evening, Excellency. We all felt that the more quickly we could acquaint you with the situation, the better.”
I stepped toward him with a smile, trying to decide if it would be undignified to hug him. Shim was my favorite member of the Council, even though he could be intimidating, what with being so tall and so old. He looked maybe mid-seventies, his white hair still thick, but I happened to know he was closer to three hundred.
Just as I was about to touch him, I noticed a tiny flicker, then realized at nearly the same instant that I wasn’t feeling any brath, or Martian vibe, off of him. I stopped, confused.
“Wait, are you really here, or are you a, um, hologram?”
Little Nara, another Council member I liked, answered. “I’m sorry, Princess, didn’t Lili tell you? In the interest of expediency, those of us not in Jewel conferenced in.”
“Though I do expect to be in Jewel in the flesh in a few days,” Shim added.
I blinked. They all looked so real. So…solid.
“Oh. That’s…that’s great. I didn’t realize… Must save a lot on airfare, huh?”
Several of them chuckled, but Shim quickly brought us back to the business at hand. “Excellency, how much has Lili already told you?”
“Um, just that a message has come from the Grentl so we’re moving up my visit, hoping maybe I can somehow reply to it. We didn’t have much time to talk last night.”
Mrs. O sat on the couch next to Breann, who I assumed was really here. I sat in the only empty chair left. Well, technically the ones with holograms in them were empty, too, but I couldn’t exactly sit on top of someone.
“That is indeed the gist of things.” Shim’s expression was kindly but serious. “However, there is more that you should know, that you would have been told sooner, had not certain objections been raised.” He glanced at Kyna, who pursed her lips and frowned. Or, rather, her hologram did.
“Get on with it,” she snapped.
Shim merely smiled at her before turning back to me. “As you might expect, Nuath suffered a fair degree of chaos during the days and weeks following Faxon’s ouster, including the disruption of normal communications. Not until six weeks ago, more than a month after Faxon was imprisoned, did we learn the full story of his overthrow. Interestingly, it appears the Grentl may have been the deciding element.”
“Huh?” I definitely hadn’t expected that. “How?”
“According to an Informatics Engineer who has worked at the Royal Palace since your grandfather’s time, the Grentl activated their communication device late in Faxon’s tenure. Using rather brutal methods, Faxon forced the truth about the device from a fellow Palace Engineer—now, alas, deceased.”
I assumed Shim meant murdered. I shuddered.
“The Grentl apparently allowed Faxon to communicate with them for a time, perhaps to gain information. Whatever their motives, after a few exchanges, the Grentl used the device to, ah, disable Faxon, at which point a few loyal Palace staff members were able to imprison him, allowing for a quick and nearly bloodless overthrow of his regime.”
For a few seconds I just stared at Shim, trying to wrap my brain around what this meant. “So…the Grentl are good guys after all? They found out how bad Faxon was and took him out?”
“We can’t know that.” Kyna’s image leaned forward earnestly. “The Grentl still have the potential to be extremely dangerous. No one knows the content of Faxon’s communications with them, only that information was exchanged, and that Faxon was subsequently rendered unconscious. He has not been forthcoming with details since regaining consciousness. In fact, our Healers believe it likely he does not ev
en remember those details.”
“So…where do I come in? Mrs. O’Gara said they’ve sent another message?”
Shim nodded. “Six days ago the device activated again. Our best guess is that the Grentl wish to learn the outcome of their last interaction, but when our remaining Palace Engineer attempted to respond, he was denied access. It appears they are again willing to communicate only with our Sovereign.”
“Or, perhaps, they wish to verify that we still have one,” Malcolm theorized. “You are the only one who can find out what they want—and reassure them.”
“Reassure them? About what? That I exist?”
“And that Nuath is back on a peaceful path,” Shim said. “If indeed the reason they took action against Faxon had to do with his departure from that path, they may wish to know it has been restored. Whatever they want, history suggests the Grentl are apt to take offense should you not respond in a timely manner.”
I swallowed nervously. “Offense? What will they do?”
Shim lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. (He looked so real!) “We prefer not to find out.”
Obviously it would be a bad idea to antagonize aliens way more advanced than even the Martians. But— “Why don’t we know? Haven’t we been communicating with them for like three hundred years?”
Kyna answered me. “It took years—decades—to establish a true two-way communication. That only occurred after Sovereign Aerleas, your great-grandmother, imprinted on the device, for want of a better term. Since then, all attempts at communication were necessarily conducted by the Sovereign, as the Grentl were emphatically unwilling to talk with anyone else. Until Faxon, and then only briefly.”
“But…all those years. Surely we learned something about who the Grentl are and what they can do to us? What they want from us?”
Shim took up the explanation. “Over the years, some essentials were shared with certain trusted Scientists. We know that the Grentl are non-humanoid, seemingly composed of both matter and energy, and reproduce by fission. But only the Sovereigns have ever known the full content of all communications.”