The Girl From Mars

by Brenda Hiatt

  I lift a shoulder. “But we evolved beyond it. Adina might as well know the truth now—better than being blindsided once there’s no turning back.”

  “We…we won’t have to kill any animals ourselves, will we?” My sister still looks distressed.

  “Of course not.” Dad shoots me a frown. “Jewel, where we’re hoping to settle, specializes in crops, not animals. It should be a good fit for Agriculturals like us.”

  “That’s right.” Mum smiles reassuringly at Adina. “Corn, mostly, and soybeans. I’ve been reading up on Jewel. If you prefer, you can become a vegetarian once we move to Earth—it’s not that uncommon.”

  Adina relaxes. “I…I think I might be okay eating fish, at least. They’re not very smart, and not cuddly at all.”

  The moment we and our classmates step outside the Aquaponic Engineering building, we’re pounced on by three different news crews from the feeds.

  “Excuse me, ma’am,” a reporter asks the woman in front of us. “Can you tell us what prompted you to heed the Sovereign’s call for emigration? Was it a difficult decision to make?”

  The woman starts to stammer an answer while the other reporters converge on the rest of us.

  “Sir, will this be your family’s first trip Earth?” a woman asks my father. It’s Moya, from the Nuathan News Network.

  “Yes. We’re all very excited.” I notice he carefully doesn’t look at me as he says that.

  “And how do they—?” she begins, turning toward Adina and me, then does a little double-take. “Isn’t this… Aren’t you Kira Morain, the caidpel player?”

  I nod cautiously. “These are my parents.”

  Now her eyes positively gleam at having stumbled onto a bigger story than she expected. “Are they? You both must be very proud of your daughter and her team. Is Kira going with you?”

  “Yes. Yes, she is,” Dad says firmly before I can so much as hint otherwise.

  “I see. Kira, surely you must have a few qualms about leaving Nuath just as the playoffs begin?”

  Again, Dad replies before I can. “Our whole family feels strongly that our duty to Nuath outweighs any mere sporting event. Don’t we?”

  He pins me with a stern look until I reluctantly give a grudging nod. I don’t dare open my mouth for fear of what might spill out.

  “How very commendable,” Moya gushes, favoring us all with a brilliant smile. “I’m sure your example will motivate others to step up as well. The Sovereign must be very pleased.”

  She moves on then, but before we even reach the zipper station Dad gets a message from Moya asking if she can contact him later for a few follow-up questions. After a quick consultation with Mum, he says that will be fine.

  Efrin, I think as we board the zipper back to Hollydoon. If the feeds run that story, it’ll be harder than ever to convince my parents to let me stay on Mars. They’ll claim our whole family will look bad if I don’t go to Earth with them now.

  Sure enough, Moya’s interview with my dad is already playing on the news by the time we finish dinner that night. When I arrive for practice the next afternoon, Coach gets in my face before I even reach the equipment bins.

  “I thought you wanted to help us win the playoffs?” he practically snarls. “Now it’s all over the feeds you’re emigrating to Earth. They’re making you look like some kind of hero for leaving us in the lurch!”

  “That wasn’t my fault!” I protest, stung. “I didn’t say anything at all to that reporter, it was just my dad. I guess you never called him, like you said you would?”

  That stops Coach in mid-tirade. “I…was going to do it tomorrow,” he grumbles. “I’ve been busy. Then I saw that story on the feeds and—”

  “You’ll still talk to them, won’t you, Coach?” I try not to sound as desperate as I feel. “Please?”

  “I’ll never get the League behind me now.” He glares at me from under his heavy brows, then shrugs. “I…guess I can look up a few things tonight. Maybe come up with an argument for keeping you here that won’t make me sound like a traitor.”

  But I can tell he really doesn’t want to now. “That’s a great idea, Coach!” I force more enthusiasm than I feel into my voice. “I’ll keep talking to them, too. I promise the last thing I want to do is hurt the team’s chances of winning!”

  He just nods morosely and waves me onto the field. Grabbing my camman from the rack, I sprint off, trying to ignore the heavy knot in my stomach.

  Instead of drills, Coach has us play twelve-a-side against each other, like a real match, so we can practice various plays in sequence. I’m glad now I took that time yesterday to review the playbook instead of paying attention in that stupid class.

  “You played great today,” Leitis says with a grin when the final whistle blows. “I sure hope Coach can keep you around.”

  “I guess everyone knows now?”

  She nods. “Coach told us after yesterday’s practice, then there was that bit on the news. Coach was…” She hesitates. “I’m sure he’ll be able to fix it so you can stay, though. I mean, this would be an awful time for you to leave, with the playoffs so close. Especially now that you and Brady are—” Breaking off, Leitis glances behind me. “Oops. Later!”

  Sure enough, when I turn around, Brady is approaching. “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  “Missed you at practice yesterday.”

  He’s not specific whether he missed me or everyone did. I don’t ask. “Yeah. My family had to go to a stupid class for emigrants. You wouldn’t believe how lame it was. I mostly studied the playbook instead.”

  “It showed.” He grins down at me. “You looked good today. Anyway, I wanted to tell you Crevan might be contacting you in a day or two.”

  I huff out a cautiously relieved breath. “Does that mean he’s figured out a way to keep me here? Coach said he’d take care of it, but…now I’m not so sure.”

  “Hey, it’ll work out one way or another. Try not to worry, okay?”

  Not quite the reassurance I was hoping for. “Okay.”

  “Good girl.”

  I half expect him to touch me again, like he did last practice, and at the zipper station in Monaru, but he doesn’t. He just gives me another bracing grin before going to turn in his equipment. I wait several seconds before following.

  * * *

  I don’t sleep well that night. In the morning, I ask Dad over breakfast if he’s heard anything from my caidpel coach.

  “Yes, I had a message from him late last night, saying what a loss you’ll be to the team. He also sent links to some articles extolling the virtues of the sport, but I haven’t had time to read them yet.”

  I have trouble swallowing the bite of scrambled egg I just put in my mouth. “He didn’t…didn’t say anything about me staying in Nuath through the playoffs? I thought—”

  “Oh, I’m sure he’d prefer that, but he must know it’s impossible at this point. Really, Kira, you need to start looking forward, not back. Our futures lie on Earth—not only ours, but nearly all Nuathans. You’re a smart enough girl to understand it’s the only way for our people to survive.”

  That afternoon I make the mistake of stopping by home to drop off my school bag and change before practice, which gives Mum a chance to waylay me before I can leave again.

  “You should spend the afternoon sorting through your things, Kira,” she tells me. “We can only bring two bags apiece, you know, and we leave in just five days.”

  “I know. I’ll do it when I get back.”

  Mum’s still frowning, though. “I don’t understand why you need to practice anyway. You’ve said yourself that no one plays caidpel on Earth, and we’ll be gone before your next game.”

  I huff out a breath. “Yeah, thanks for reminding me. You do realize that besides the fifty sochar I get for the first playoff game, they pay us a whole lot more if the Ags win the tournament. Isn’t that worth waiting for, even if you’re determined to move us all to Earth after—”

  “We
’ve been through this, Kira.” She sounds exasperated now. “Nuathan sochar won’t be of any benefit on Earth anyway.”

  They’ll sure benefit me if I stay behind, though. “Right. Okay. Just…let me play while I can, okay?”

  Immediately, Mum’s expression becomes sympathetic. “Of course, dear. Go have fun.”

  But fun is the last thing on my mind when I head to Newlyn for practice. With time getting so short, I’m absolutely determined to pin down both Coach and Brady before I leave today.

  Unfortunately, thanks to Mum, practice has already started when I arrive. The coach just waves me to my position, giving me no chance to ask again about him talking to my parents. Then he spends our one break deep in conversation with the two assistant coaches. At that point I look around for Brady, hoping maybe I can get info from him, at least, but he’s joking around with several other guys on the team, not even looking my way.

  The moment practice ends, I hurry over to the coach. Before I reach him, he motions to me and I break into a trot.

  “You have news for me?” I ask breathlessly…hopefully.

  His sad smile answers me even before he speaks. “Sorry, Kira. I was hoping to keep you but with the playoffs looming I couldn’t afford to gamble on that. We’ve just recruited Bailecuinn’s top all-male player and I’m promoting Kinnard to your position. He’s not as good as you are, of course, but…I had no choice. I really am sorry.”

  He seems to mean it, but it doesn’t lighten the weight that just landed in my stomach. Using every ounce of my will, I hold back the tears threatening to spill over.

  “I…I understand.” I can’t keep my voice from breaking a little. “Thanks, Coach.” I turn quickly away, not sure how much longer my control will last. Brady, I notice, is already turning in his equipment. Like earlier, he doesn’t look my way.

  Which must mean he doesn’t have any good news for me, either.

  Feeling empty and useless, I head for the zippers.

  6

  Launch window

  Launch window: period occurring approximately every 26 Earth months and lasting approximately four months, when the distance between Earth and Mars is small enough to allow travel between the two planets

  * * *

  Sean

  * * *

  “Whoa, Shim just sent me the passenger numbers for the next three Earth-bound ships,” M exclaims, showing her omni screen to my dad. We’re all in her quarters again, getting ready to leave for a formal dinner meeting. “I guess he was right about in-person visits making a difference.”

  Dad leans over to look at the figures. “Certainly a noticeable improvement. And I see the Quintessence is already at 78% capacity. There’s a chance it could be full as well by the time it launches in another two weeks.”

  “Shim says if we can keep filling the ships at this rate, he’ll be okay with me leaving for Earth myself before this launch window closes at the end of July.”

  She grins around at us, but Molly’s the only one who immediately grins back. “That’s great! You must be so relieved!”

  M nods happily.

  I wish I could be happy for her, too, but I was raised from birth to put our people’s welfare ahead of everything else—and I honestly feel M leaving Mars that soon will set back the progress Nuath has made over the past few months.

  “That’s, um, really good news.” I hope my smile doesn’t look too fake. I can tell Dad’s no more enthusiastic about her leaving than I am, though we’ve both been careful to avoid the topic of M staying put, after the way she reacted last time. He shares an understanding glance with me, then clears his throat.

  “Oh, Sean, I meant to tell you earlier that I’ve arranged for us to attend the Agricultural team’s first playoff game. Molly and the Sovereign as well, if they care to join us.”

  Though I’m sure he’s saying it to cheer me up, it has almost the opposite effect. “It may not be that great a game,” I tell him with a shrug. “I saw on one of the sports feeds that the Ag team is losing their best forward.”

  “Oh? That’s a shame,” Dad says. “This was their first time making the playoffs in several years, wasn’t it?”

  “What happened?” Molly asks. “Is he hurt?”

  “She. And no, she and her family booked berths on the Horizon, which leaves the same day as the first playoff game. Guess you were a little too convincing when you visited Hollydoon last week,” I add to M, though it’s really not her fault, of course.

  M looks sincerely apologetic. “Sorry, Sean. I mean, we all knew getting this many people to emigrate in one launch window would cause some disruptions, since nearly everyone is filling a necessary role somewhere. I hadn’t even thought about sports teams, though.”

  “What will this do to their chances?” Dad asks. He knows I’ve been obsessing a little about sports lately—mainly to keep my focus off things I’d rather not think about.

  “Not sure. They still have Brady, their star midfielder, but they’re definitely not expected to dominate now, like they were before this news hit. But hey, this is minor stuff in the greater scheme of things, right? It only makes sense the less advantaged fines, like Agriculture, would be among the first to leave. They probably will have more opportunities on Earth, just like you’ve been telling them. Of course, if too many leave, it’s going to be hard to get good people for that balanced Legislature you’re wanting to set up, won’t it?”

  “I hope not,” M says worriedly. “Shim says he’s convinced a few people from non-Royal or Science fines to stand for various positions, but not enough yet. I was sure we’d have at least set a date for the first election by now.”

  Yet another reason I don’t think she should be leaving Nuath anytime soon. Shim’s fairly popular with the people, especially the non-Royals, but nowhere near as popular as M. She’d have a much better chance than Shim of talking people into entering public service, which is what I think she should do once this launch window closes. I don’t want to risk saying so directly, though.

  “What do you think, Dad? Will Shim get enough people to stand for election that one can be held within the next month or two?”

  But Dad’s even less willing than I am to say anything M doesn’t want to hear—though in private he’s told me he agrees strongly it’s a bad idea for her to leave so soon.

  “It’s…possible,” he says carefully. “Though it might not be a bad idea for you to record a vid or two in support of what Shim is trying to do, Excellency. Oops, we’d better go or we’ll be late for that dinner.”

  7

  Doolegar

  doolegar (DOO-luh-gahr): despondency; depression

  * * *

  I’m too depressed to say much over dinner that night, but nobody seems to notice. Mum, Dad and Adina are all talking about what they’ve read about the various types of Earth villages, towns and cities and the occupations likely to be most needed in them.

  “With our farming experience, we’ll certainly be well suited for Jewel.” Mum beams around at us. “Though I suppose I can be happy elsewhere if we’re not selected. According to today’s vid update, there will be even more competition than I’d anticipated.”

  “Our chances should still be good, Deirdra,” Dad assures her. “We’re well known as staunch Royalists and the fact you knew Consort Galena personally is bound to weigh in your favor. But as you say, either way we’ll find a place to make home—and we’ll still be able to visit Jewel. There are hundreds of farming towns in that region. We’ll settle in one of those, if not in Jewel itself.”

  I know I should start paying attention now that my fate is sealed, but at the moment I can’t bring myself to care.

  Not until I’m getting ready for bed do I bother to check my messages—and nearly drop my omni when I see one from Crevan Erc. Heart pounding with renewed hope, I pull it up—only to have my hopes dashed again.

  Sorry to hear you won’t be remaining in Nuath, as you would have been a valuable advocate for us. We will consider an a
lternate role for you on Earth if a significant portion of our people emigrate there. Should such an opportunity arise, you will hear from one of our Echtran operatives. Best of luck in the future, Kira Morain.

  —CE

  I wonder if Brady told him how bummed I was tonight about Coach cutting me from the team. Efrin, he probably asked Crevan to message me, thinking I’d feel better if I thought I might still be useful to their cause somehow. Someday. Maybe.

  Feeling dismissed, patronized and more depressed than ever, I crawl into bed and quietly cry myself to sleep.

  * * *

  Our last few days in Nuath are a blur as our preparations ramp up to a frenetic pace. The Murraghs agree to take over our farming operations and another family from the village comes to look at our house. We have to leave almost everything behind, of course. Among the hardest things to part with are my numerous caidpel trophies.

  Just two days after being cut from the team, I have my last day of school. All my friends gather at lunchtime to say their goodbyes.

  “I’m going to miss you so much, Kira.” Eileen has tears in her eyes. “Who else can I talk caidpel with at school and get pointers from? Nobody else gets it like you do. Now I’ll never make the co-ed team.”

  “Sure you will. You’re really good.” I return her fierce hug with a lump in my throat, then turn to Ros and Bridgid, both waiting to say their own tearful goodbyes. The only thing that keeps me from crying, too, is pride. Because I never cry in front of anyone. Ever.

  I have to remind myself of that again when Coach invites me to a post-practice party just outside Thiaraway, so my teammates can say their farewells. Though I’m pretty sure it was Leitis’s idea, I still appreciate it. Especially when Brady makes a point of walking with me to the zipper station afterward for a private goodbye.