Starbound

by Brenda Hiatt

  “Cool,” I muttered. “Like the entrance to the Bat Cave.”

  Beside me, Sean chuckled again. “There’s stuff way cooler than that. I can’t wait to show you.”

  I expected an underground parking garage but the tunnel ended in lot only big enough for a couple of vans the size of ours. Sean handed me out and the others followed, while Kernan and Cormac unloaded our bags onto a waiting cart. Kernan then applied his palm to the hotel door and punched a code into the little holo-screen that popped up. The door opened to reveal a smallish, plushly-carpeted room that I belatedly realized was an elevator.

  “Excellency?” Kernan bowed to indicate I was to precede him while Cormac took up the position behind me that should have been Rigel’s.

  The elevator only went up what felt like one floor, though at this point I wasn’t willing to assume much of anything. The doors opened into a huge, gorgeous room with several sofas and scattered plush chairs, as well as numerous glass tables of various sizes, to include one at the far end that was big enough to seat two dozen people. Hotel lobby, I guessed, though I didn’t see anything like a reception desk.

  Kernan’s next words proved I was making assumptions again. “This is the main living level. Your quarters are on the top floor, Excellency. There are twelve others on the two floors below, each with private bath. Kitchen is through there, recombinator fully stocked. Unless you’d prefer a human cook?”

  “Sir?” Cormac frowned.

  “Yes, I know you consider that a security risk, but it should be the Princess’s choice.” Kernan turned to me questioningly.

  “Um, the recombinator is fine.”

  Molly was gazing around, her eyes wide. “Wow, and I thought your quarters on the ship were posh,” she murmured. I felt the same way, but thought it might sound un-regal to say so.

  “Before I go, Excellency, I need to give you this.” Kernan held out a metallic red omni. “If you’ll place your thumb here?” I did so and he gave the omni a complicated series of taps, after which a green light flashed from the end.

  “There. It is now coded to your touch. No one else can access it, to include me. You will want to create a code—it can be spoken or keyed in—that you’ll only share with a few trusted people, such as Mr. O’Gara. Anyone not using the code will be diverted to Mr. O’Gara’s omni or to techtract, ah, voicemail, which I recommend you also have forwarded to Mr. O’Gara or an aide, for sorting. For non-private calls you can bypass the security settings, which I don’t recommend, or use any vidscreen.”

  I nodded, staring at the device in my hand. My very own omni! This was way cooler than any cell phone. “Thank you,” I said composedly, though I felt more like squealing.

  Kernan proceeded to show me the omni’s basic controls, then said, “As you now have both Cormac and your former Bodyguard here for security, may I have your permission to return to Thiaraway? There are still a few details to sift through in our investigation of the anti-Royalists.”

  “Oh! Of course. I’m sorry to have kept you from your job for so long already.”

  He smiled. “Your safety is my primary job, Excellency, and the main focus of my Ministry. But as this other matter may impact that, it is also important. I look forward to your speedy Acclamation and hope to see you in Thiaraway within a day or two.” He nodded to the others, bowed to me, fist over heart, and departed, leaving Cormac the only stranger in our midst.

  The moment he was gone, Mr. O pulled out his omni. “Let’s see what the grechain, er, networks are saying, shall we?” He touched the omni to a faint blue circle on the oval glass coffee table and a rectangular screen several feet across materialized on the opposite wall.

  I’d heard Nuathan communications had been disrupted and spotty since Faxon’s overthrow. Would that maybe delay the scandal from the ship hitting the news? I braced myself as the screen lighted.

  “—to us from the streets of Thiaraway itself,” came a woman’s voice, the screen showing a milling crowd of people. “Gaynor?”

  “Yes, Moya, the mood here is extremely upbeat.” A handsome man, obviously the reporter, now smiled from the screen. “To a person, the people of Thiaraway seem more than ready to welcome our new Sovereign home. Ma’am, what is your opinion about the return of our long-lost Princess? Are you ready to vote for Acclamation?”

  The camera shifted to a dark-haired woman who was nearly bouncing with excitement. “I think we all are, Gaynor! Princess Emileia couldn’t have come at a better time, with people spooked by that outage and all. Her return is just what everyone needs. What we’ve all prayed for ever since learning she’s still alive!”

  “Thank you. Sir?”

  A middle-aged man appeared, smiling broadly. “You bet! My family is planning a celebration tonight, and we’re counting the minutes until the call for Acclamation goes out, keeping our fingers on the ‘aye’ button.”

  “And that’s been the story since I arrived here, Moya. What are your panelists saying?”

  I was relieved when Mr. O’Gara switched to a different channel. All those strangers acting like I was some kind of savior weirded me out.

  It’s only going to get worse, Rigel remarked silently.

  This channel seemed to be a series text screens showing recent poll results—polls about everything from changes in the zipper schedule to willingness to restrict water usage. I remembered reading that the networks had become increasingly poll-driven before Faxon co-opted them all. Apparently they’d already reverted to that prior fixation on polls.

  Mr. O flipped through the various poll screens until he found the one he was looking for: “Vote to Acclaim Princess Emileia as Sovereign?” Latest results stood at a whopping 91.3% in favor.

  “That’s it! We need to move quickly.” Mr. O’Gara whipped out his omni. “I’ll instruct the acting Elections Minister to arrange for an immediate vote. We may pull this off after all.”

  CHAPTER 25

  Tullymayne (TULL-ee-mayn) (pop. 1,993): town in southeastern Nuath containing main transportation hub and supporting industries

  While his dad spoke rapidly into his omni, Sean jumped up. “I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m starving. Let’s try out the recombinator in this place.”

  The rest of us followed him into the kitchen, which was super futuristic, with gizmos I hadn’t even seen in Bailerealta. But still less bizarre than me being the top news story.

  Sean started scrolling through the holo-menu of the recombinator. “Wow, I thought the selection on the ship was good, but this is amazing!”

  Molly touched her brother’s arm. “Excuse me. M, um, Princess, what would you like for lunch?” she asked pointedly, making Sean blush. “You can pretty much name it.”

  I tried not to grin since Sean was already embarrassed. “How about a cheeseburger and a side salad? Ooh, do they have Diet Coke?” They did. I usually drank tea, but right now I craved good old American cuisine.

  Molly punched in my order and about ten seconds later my lunch slid out through the slot. I’d been told how it worked, but it still seemed more like magic than science. But then, so did microwave ovens.

  I dutifully waited for Cormac to taste all my food before digging in, by which time the others had joined me. Hey, silver lining, I thought to Rigel. I can eat broccoli again without you having to taste it first.

  Sucky tradeoff, but I’ll take it. He felt more cheerful than he had in a long time. Those amazing poll numbers had boosted all our spirits.

  “Cormac, you can sit.” I figured I might as well be consistent. “Please,” I added when he hesitated.

  Though clearly uncomfortable, he complied, taking the chair to my right, while Molly moved down one. Sean, as always, sat on my left, with enough on his plate to feed a small village. Rigel sat across from me, his plate just as full. Where did boys put so much food?

  A smiling Mr. O’Gara joined us a moment later to say that arrangements were being made for me to declare for Acclamation within the next two hours. “Once the
announcement goes out, the vote can be held within twenty-four hours. You’re as good as Acclaimed, Excellency!”

  While they ate, he and Cormac talked about recent political developments, like the appointment of acting ministers and an interim legislature cobbled together from respected members of the Science fines and the few unimpaired Royals remaining on Mars when Faxon was ousted. I tried to listen, but my attention kept drifting to things like how close together my bedroom and Rigel’s would be and the boggling idea that I might be heading to the Royal Palace—and the Grentl device—as soon as tomorrow.

  “I’ll turn the news back on, if you don’t mind, Excellency?” Mr. O said as we finished.

  I tried not to cringe visibly. “Sure, but…I’d rather you not call me that in private. Any of you.”

  He smiled back and nodded understandingly. Cormac raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything as Mr. O’Gara brought up the vidscreen again.

  Sean plunked himself down on the big couch and looked up at me hopefully, but I elected to remain standing. Rigel silently assured me he was fine with me sitting there, but I could tell he really wasn’t.

  We caught the tag end of a press conference with the acting Minister of Energy assuring everyone that this morning’s power outage had been an isolated glitch and that no one need worry about a repeat of it. Remembering what Kernan had said, I doubted both statements. After that, they launched into yet another report on my arrival, this one focusing on what I’d been wearing, of all things.

  The frivolous story had barely begun, however, when the vidscreen abruptly switched to the same reporter we’d seen earlier, Gaynor, looking extremely serious and concerned.

  “We interrupt this story with some disturbing news. Almost as soon as the first passengers from Earth in over two years disembarked, certain rumors began to spread, but we at Nuathan News Network pride ourselves on reporting fact, not rumor. Now, however, two different passengers have come forward with video evidence that substantiates those rumors. While we are not yet authorized to release those videos, it is feared that our much-heralded Princess may have flouted tradition by engaging in a romantic relationship with her Bodyguard, Rigel Stuart. Moya, what do you think this will do to her chances for a quick Acclamation?”

  A blonde woman appeared on-screen, her expression even more worried than Gaynor’s. “I’m afraid this revelation will come as a serious shock to many, Gaynor. You heard how upbeat everyone was earlier. This could trigger a dramatic shift in opinion. Earliest polls indicate that most want proof before condemning Princess Emileia out of hand, but unfortunately it appears that proof may be forthcoming very shortly.”

  “That’s right, Moya.” The camera switched back to Gaynor. “Informatics Engineers are working now to verify the authenticity of those videos, though the odds of two separate hoaxes matching so closely seem extremely small. Assuming those omni-made videos are validated, their publication should quickly be approved by the Interim Governor’s office, in keeping with the new policy of transparency.”

  I turned to Mr. O in dismay. “Will they really show that video on the news?”

  “They’ll have no choice,” he said grimly. “I knew word would filter out, but didn’t realize the vid itself had been captured on private omnis. Because of Faxon’s secrecy and abuse of the media, there is now strong public sentiment in favor of sharing everything openly, especially anything pertaining to the government. The networks obviously take their role in that process seriously.”

  Great. “So much for me declaring for Acclamation tonight. How long before reporters start demanding answers and interviews?”

  As if in answer, Mr. O’s omni beeped. He put it to his ear, then snapped, “No, I’m sorry. The Princess has no comment at this time.” He broke the connection. “I won’t be able to hold them off long. We’ll need to decide—” His omni beeped again. “The Princess is resting from her voyage,” he informed whoever was on the other end. “She’ll release a statement soon.”

  Between the calls that now came in every few seconds, he reminded me that every town, village and fine had its own news feed. The “official” one we’d been watching was the most widely viewed, but the smaller outlets all liked to gather their own news and put their own spin on it.

  “That could work to our advantage if we can sway enough smaller channels to throw their support behind you despite this issue. The Nuathan Network relies heavily on the polls, so if the overall numbers start shifting in your favor, they’re likely to adjust their stance to match.” His omni beeped again before I could point out that the reverse would also be true.

  Might as well hope for the best until we know otherwise, Rigel thought, but he felt as tense as I did.

  I was about to suggest we go upstairs and unpack, hoping for a lengthier private “conversation” with Rigel, when Mr. O suddenly replied to a caller with something other than his pat response.

  “You are? I see. Yes, she’ll meet with you. How soon can you be here? Very well, we’ll see you in a moment.” He hung up and turned to me. “This is someone you do need to talk to, but not about this matter on the news. For that, you’ll need some preparation.”

  “Who—?”

  “A Communications Engineer from Thiaraway.” The significant look he gave me cleared up my confusion. “Eric Eagan.”

  A chime sounded and Cormac went to the the fancy front door—the one we hadn’t used—and returned escorting the oldest-looking Martian I’d ever seen. His snow-white, wispy hair and deeply lined face, made him appear far older than Shim, though his short stature and general air of frailty made him much less imposing.

  As soon as he saw me he bowed deeply. “Excellency. Thank you for receiving me. I am greatly honored.” His voice also held a quaver I’d never heard in Shim’s.

  “Thank you for coming, Mr. Eagan. Where can we talk privately?” I asked Mr. O.

  Sean and Molly both looked confused and Cormac took a step forward. “Excellency, I must protest. Your security—”

  “Is not at risk right now, Cormac, but thanks for your concern. Mr. Eagan and I need to discuss matters that are, um, classified. The Echtran Council on Earth was clear that I wasn’t to talk about them in front of anyone except him.” I almost added that Eric didn’t look like much of a physical threat, but thought that might sound insulting.

  “There is a small conference room on the floor above this one,” Mr. O’Gara suggested. “I’d better remain here to field calls.” He sounded regretful—and felt avidly curious. “Cormac can wait at the foot of the stairs in case you need him.”

  Though Cormac didn’t look happy with that arrangement, he didn’t argue. Indicating that Eric should follow me, I headed up the curving staircase with a silent promise to Rigel that I’d fill him in later. Eric and I entered the conference room, right off the landing, and I closed the door. “Sorry. Cormac is a little overprotective.”

  “Quite properly so, given that all our hopes rest upon you, more than anyone yet realizes. Is this room secure?”

  “As far as I know. Do you mean it might be…bugged or something?”

  Eric pulled a tiny black box out of his pocket and handed it to me. “Let us be certain. You will be able to sweep the room much more quickly than I can, Excellency, if you don’t mind? This will emit a warning if any listening devices are present.”

  I took the box from him and walked around the room, waving it in front of me. I felt a little silly. Finally he motioned me to the table.

  “That will do. Thank you.” I handed the detector back to him and he pocketed it again. “After three centuries of secrecy, it wouldn’t do to slip up now, when it might do the most harm. Shall we sit?”

  I took the chair farthest from the door, just in case Cormac decided to stand guard in the hallway after all and Eric moved more slowly to take the seat next to me.

  “How much were you told before leaving Earth? I take it you know about the Grentl, the device?”

  Remembering what I’d been told so
far, a little thrill of fear went through me. “Yes, but not many details. Just that the device is at the Royal Palace in Thiaraway and supposedly only I can use it. And that if I don’t somehow respond to the Grentl soon they might do something awful, though nobody said exactly what.”

  “I’m afraid I didn’t dare send much information to your Earth Council, even encrypted. But now you are here, I can tell you everything I know.”

  “Did…you know my grandfather, Sovereign Leontine?” I couldn’t resist asking.

  “Of course. And his mother, Sovereign Aerleas. In fact, I was in the room with her when she first imprinted on the device and have kept the secret of the Grentl ever since. No one else alive knows as much about the workings of the device, which, unfortunately has made me irreplaceable.”

  That meant Eric had to be well over three hundred years old—definitely older than Shim. Wow.

  “Unfortunately?” I echoed.

  He inclined his head. “I’d have followed my dear wife to the long home ninety years ago had the Sovereigns not had need of me. It is my hope that once the present crisis is averted, another Engineer can be trained to take my place, and I can go to my long-delayed reward.”

  I couldn’t wrap my mind around the idea of living so long that dying would feel like a reward—but then, I was only sixteen. “So what exactly is the current crisis? Did that power glitch this morning somehow make things worse?”

  “It would be more accurate to say that the ‘glitch,’ as people are calling it, brought to light just how dire our situation is.”

  “So you think these anti-Royalists are more of a threat than everyone thought?”

  Eric fluttered a wrinkled hand in the air. “Those foolish protesters had no hand in the power interruption, though it is not surprising they were quick to take credit. We should probably let them. No, it was caused by the Grentl. And it was a warning.”