The Girl From Mars

by Brenda Hiatt

The ginger guy, Wade, nods. “Yeah, did you see in the reading that Dun Cloch is over a hundred miles from the nearest village? A hundred miles! I’ll bet we don’t see a single Duchas before we get to the towns we’ll be living in. We’ve asked for Denver, in the mountains, where my dad’s sister lives.”

  That starts them all talking about where their families plan to live after our orientation period ends. Fully half of the dozen teens at the table say their parents requested Jewel, including Alan, and Adina’s friend Jana.

  “We put down two alternate places, too, so it won’t be a big deal if we don’t get it,” Peter, a dark-haired boy Alan’s age, says philosophically.

  “So did we,” an older boy volunteers. “New York and Los Angeles. My dad’s always been fascinated by Duchas, and those places have more of them than anywhere else in North America.”

  As the conversation goes on, the others sound increasingly eager to reach Earth…while I idly wonder if I can stow away aboard the Horizon until it returns to Nuath.

  “I’m going to go check on Mum,” I tell Adina as soon as I finish eating, feeling out of sorts again. At least the food was good.

  She glances up. “Oh. Um, I’ll be down in a little while, okay?”

  “Sure, that’s fine.” She should be perfectly safe with so many people around. “G’night, everyone.”

  Mum is dozing when I get back to Steerage, despite the incessant hum of the gravity drive right below us and the chatter of everybody coming back from dinner. Dad motions me a short way away from their bunk.

  “She said she was feeling much better, but I’m sure the best thing for her is sleep.”

  “You don’t think she’s really sick, do you?” My earlier concern rushes back.

  To my relief, he shakes his head. “Mostly exhausted, I think. It’s been a busy, stressful week for all of us, but especially for her.” Partly because of me, I know, though Dad doesn’t say that. He doesn’t have to.

  “I’ll try not to be such a grump around her.”

  “Thanks, Kira. I know this isn’t what you wanted, but I hope you can find a way to be as happy on Earth as on Mars—or even happier.”

  I don’t see how, without caidpel, friends or purpose, but I give him a quick, fake smile. “I hope so, too.” Grabbing my small bag off my bunk, I head to the bathroom for a pre-bedtime shower.

  Adina’s back from dinner when I come out. She and her new friend Jana have their heads together, giggling over something, so I climb up to my bunk and settle down with my reader. I spend half an hour on the required reading about Earth before flipping to my encrypted files from Crevan Erc.

  Though he didn’t promise me a mission, I’m determined not to lose my passion for social justice. If the Sovereign convinces a majority of Nuathans to emigrate to Earth over the next few decades, the Populists are bound to need operatives there eventually. If called into action, I plan to be ready.

  Meanwhile, I should devote myself to persuading as many Echtrans as possible to the Populist cause. It’s the only thing I can think of that might give my life on Earth meaning.

  Mum feels well enough to go up to the Commons for breakfast the next morning. Once we all get our food, she and Dad join another couple from Hollydoon and urge Adina and me to seek out people our own age as well. We head to another table where a few of the kids we met last night are already sitting. A moment later Jana and Adina are whispering and giggling together as they eat.

  Alan’s not here yet but Peter greets me eagerly. “After you left last night, Alan talked about playing some caidpel in Dun Cloch if we have time in our schedules. He thought you’d maybe be willing to coach us?”

  “Oh, um, maybe.” Training a bunch of amateurs who’ll never be able to play caidpel again once we leave the compound would be kind of lame, but better than sitting around studying every day.

  When Alan shows up a couple minutes later, he immediately floats the same idea, obviously expecting me to be excited—and impressed that he thought of it.

  “I know how much you’re going to miss it, Kira,” he says with a smile that’s a little too intimate. “Me, too. I figure this will help. And hey, if we both end up in Jewel, or some other town together, maybe we can start a caidpel club, even teach the Duchas how to play—though they probably won’t be much good at it.”

  “Probably?” My laugh has a bitter edge. I wish they’d stop talking about caidpel. “And how do we explain being into a sport nobody on Earth has even heard of?”

  He shrugs. “They’re supposed to give us all fake Earth histories, right? We’ll just say the game was invented wherever we supposedly came from and hope it’ll catch on.”

  “That should work,” Peter agrees. “The Duchas are supposed to be really gullible.”

  Mattie had been pointedly ignoring the caidpel conversation but at that she says, “Don’t count on it, guys. My mum told me the Echtran Council, the ones who call the shots on Earth, are super-obsessed with keeping us secret from the Duchas. She’s worried they might not let minors like us leave Dun Cloch at all.”

  Peter shakes his head. “The Council’s just seven people. Once the Sovereign gets to Earth, she’s going to put together a proper Echtran government.”

  I seize that opening. “A truly representative government? That’s the only way those of us in the lower fines will get any say in what the rules are.”

  “The Sovereign plans to do that eventually,” Alan says. “When she gave that speech in Hollydoon—”

  “Exactly.” Peter nods vigorously. “According to my folks, we’ll have tons more freedom then. We just have to pretend to be Duchas—and how hard can that be?”

  “Pretending to be weaker, dumber and slower than we really are? Yeah, that’ll be fun.” I can’t keep the acid out of my tone.

  “It will,” Peter insists. “Think about it. We’ll be the best at almost anything we want to do—sports, academics, you name it.”

  Mattie shakes her head darkly. “If we’re allowed to.”

  But Peter is unfazed and continues to talk about all the cool stuff he plans to do once his family moves to their permanent destination.

  After breakfast there’s a brief orientation session in the Commons for those who’ve never been on a ship before, which is nearly everyone. I spend most of it gazing longingly at the little reddish circle on the vidscreen.

  “Might as well relax while we can,” Wade comments when it ends, heading for the recreation area. “Sounds like we won’t have much spare time once we get to Dun Cloch.”

  Which reminds me I still have lots of reading to do, so I take my tablet to a relatively quiet corner of the Commons. Unfortunately, Peter and Alan aren’t the only ones who want to talk sports. At least half the Horizon passengers recognize me from the feeds and come over to talk caidpel or gush about how selfless I was to leave Nuath right when I was making such a name for myself. Though it feels dishonest, I don’t admit I’m here against my will.

  Though I’ve barely made a dent in my reading backlog, when I finally get a break from all the interruptions I’m too restless to sit still, I’m so used to daily physical activity. Three more days cooped up on this ship followed by weeks of sitting in classrooms is sure to make me crazy, fat or both.

  Setting my reader aside, I head to the other side of the Commons to join an aerobics class just starting.

  * * *

  That afternoon the vidscreen view abruptly switches from Mars to Earth—a bigger image, even though it’s farther away. The pang of loss I feel from losing even that picture of Mars completely wipes out the brief high I got from exercise. When Alan again brings up the idea of a Dun Cloch caidpel club at dinner, I immediately change the subject.

  “So, what makes you guys think our new Sovereign’s going to be able to put a decent government together on Earth when she hasn’t managed it on Mars yet?”

  “Are you kidding?” Alan says. “Look how much better things already are in Nuath, only two months after she was Installed. Why shouldn�
�t she be able to?”

  I can’t help rolling my eyes. “Gee, maybe because she’s no older than most of us here? Not to mention she’s basically lived her whole life as a Duchas. How can she possibly live up to everything people expect of her?”

  “She has lots of experienced advisors to help her,” Alan points out, shifting uncomfortably now.

  “Advisors or handlers?” I retort.

  Alan makes a shushing motion and looks nervously over his shoulder.

  Mattie, on his other side, whispers, “You shouldn’t say things like that, Kira!”

  “Why not? I thought one of the things that’s supposed to be better now is that we’re allowed to express our real opinions?”

  Now Wade joins in. “Technically, yeah. I mean, it’s not illegal anymore. But do you want people to think you’re one of them?” He nods toward a nearby table.

  I follow his gaze and see a group who seem to be deliberately keeping apart from the other passengers. Some of them look almost furtive.

  “Who are they?”

  “Former Faxon supporters, Dad says.” He curls his lip in distaste. “Must not have done anything bad enough to get arrested or maybe they just weren’t caught. Not surprised they don’t want to stick around Nuath now there’s a Sovereign in power again.”

  Alan snorts. “Traitors. Good riddance. Remember the ones we had in Hollydoon? Lorded it over everyone while Faxon was in power, then practically went into hiding once he was overthrown. Nobody would have anything to do with them. Wade’s right, Kira. Criticizing the Sovereign just isn’t…”

  “Sorry,” I say, even though I’m not. “I’m sure she’s a perfectly nice girl, but it’s pretty obvious that ever since she arrived in Nuath everything she’s said or done has been dictated by either Quinn O’Gara or Regent Shim. Which only makes sense, I guess.”

  “What…what do you mean?” Wade’s still frowning.

  I lower my voice slightly. “You can’t pretend she’s exactly shown great judgment since finding out who she is. We all know what happened during her trip to Nuath, with that Bodyguard—then she totally let him take the fall for it.”

  “That’s not fair,” Peter protests. “That was his choice, according to—”

  “Sure, that’s what we were told after the fact, but how do we know? They say it’s no coincidence our new Regent just happens to be Rigel Stuart’s grandfather,” I add, dropping my voice to a whisper. “Haven’t you heard the rumors?”

  Shaking their heads, matching expressions of horrified fascination on their faces, Alan, Wade, Peter and Mattie all lean in.

  “They say the Sovereign’s people made a deal—a compromise—that she’d appoint Shim Regent in return for his family agreeing to have the kid’s memory wiped and then sending him back to Earth. To get him out of the way and leave a clear path for Sean O’Gara.”

  The others exchange glances.

  “She…she seems happy with Sean these days,” Mattie says after an uncomfortable silence. “But a girl at my school lived in Bailerealta for a while, then came back to Nuath on the same ship as the Sovereign. Brenna claimed Sean and Rigel Stuart seemed jealous of each other. And…and that Emileia kept flirting with both of them.”

  I nod, trying not to look smug. “Like I said, not great judgment. I also heard—”

  “Hey, what are you guys whispering about?” calls Jana from the other end of the table.

  Immediately, all the others straighten and start eating again, avoiding each other’s eyes.

  “Nothing much.” I’d rather my sister not report back to our parents what I’ve been saying. “You guys know what movie they’re showing tonight? The schedule didn’t say.”

  My answer seems to satisfy the younger girls. They put their heads back together and a moment later they’re both giggling again.

  When conversation at our end of the table finally resumes, everyone is careful to stick to safe topics, like who has relatives on Earth. But a little later, when we’re all taking our trays back to the drop, Alan sidles close enough to whisper.

  “You want to be careful saying the kind of stuff you did earlier, Kira. If the higher-ups hear about it, you could hurt your family’s chances of being selected for Jewel—and you don’t want that, do you?”

  I stop myself from saying that would be fine with me. The truth is, no matter how badly my mother wants to live there, the last place I want to end up is Jewel, encountering Sovereign Emileia on a regular basis. I’d almost certainly blurt out what I really think of her, which probably would get my parents in trouble.

  Especially since Crevan Erc was apparently right that some people already equate the Populists’ goals with Faxon’s. The last thing I want to do is betray Crevan’s trust in me—which means even here on the Horizon I shouldn’t be so blatant about trying to sway people to the Populist way of thinking.

  “I guess you have a point,” I agree after a moment. “Thanks, Alan.”

  Over the next two days I try to couch my opinions a little more diplomatically. I guess it makes sense there are so many staunch supporters of the Sovereign on the Horizon, since it’s one of the earlier emigration ships. But hearing her praises sung without pointing out how little she’s actually done tests my self-control to the limit.

  To avoid further arguments, I do a lot of reading—but the more I read, the more convinced I am that life on Earth will be anything but fun. Dun Cloch, at least, has basic Nuathan conveniences, but none of the Duchas communities will. Then there’s that whole bizarre weather thing, which sounds downright dangerous.

  Every time I start feeling anxious about the future I flip back to the Populist stuff on my reader, though by now I’ve practically got it memorized. If I can put that to good use, all the sacrifices I’m making will at least be worthwhile.

  * * *

  Our final night on the ship, Adina and Jana are the last ones to join the teen table. As usual, they’re giggling.

  “What have you two been up to?” I ask, half amused. They share a conspiratorial glance.

  “Exploring,” Jana says with a shrug—and another giggle.

  Adina nods excitedly. “You should see how big the first class cabins are. And the cushy lounges on all the upper levels.”

  “What?” I say, surprised. “When did you—?”

  “See that cute guy over there? He’s Science fine—Chemistry. Jana was talking with him—okay, maybe flirting a little.” More snickers from both girls. “Anyway, he offered to show us his family’s quarters as soon as his parents left for dinner.”

  I frown, mostly at the reminder of all the perks Scientists and Royals get that we Ags never do. Maybe if my parents had let me participate in the playoffs, we’d have been able to afford a private family cabin, too, if not first class.

  “I’m sure Steerage passengers aren’t allowed up there,” I finally tell them. “You’re lucky you didn’t get caught.”

  They just giggle again.

  * * *

  The next morning, the excitement—and nervousness—among the Horizon passengers is palpable. Looks like I’m not the only one worried we’re all committed to something we’ll regret. Mum and Adina, however, seem as enthusiastic as ever when the announcement comes shortly after breakfast for everyone to report to the Commons to prepare for landing.

  “Ready for your first sight of our new home, girls?” Mum asks as we strap ourselves in just like we did for takeoff and for the gravity reversal two days ago.

  Adina grins, nodding vigorously, but I’m determined to remain—or at least appear—calm.

  “First sight? It’s been up there for more than two days.” I glance at the blue and white sphere that now fills the vidscreen.

  “You know what she means,” Dad says. “It’s one thing to look at pictures—even a live one—and another to take our first steps on a new planet, breathe its air, feel its non-artificial gravity…” He swallows and I realize he’s not as calm as he pretends, either.

  Adina points at the scree
n. “Look! You can see continents now.”

  She’s right. Where the surface isn’t obscured by clouds—real clouds, not the holo ones in Nuath’s sky—land masses are distinguishable from the dark blue of Earth’s oceans. I squint, trying to identify them from the maps I’ve seen, but already we’re too close for me to tell what we’re looking at.

  We’re moving so quickly, surface features flash past in dizzying succession, blue, green and brown, punctuated by the dazzling white of clouds in the atmosphere. Then we slow perceptibly, the vivid colors fading to shades of gray as we move to the opposite side of the planet from the Sun. I wonder how long it’ll be before we’re back on the lighted side when I remember we have to land at night, so the ship isn’t spotted by any Duchas.

  “What time is it in Dun Cloch?” Adina asks. “Nuath’s on Bailerealta time, right?”

  Dad nods. “Montana is seven hours earlier, so it’s just two hours after midnight there. We should adjust to the time change fairly quickly, based on what I’ve heard from people coming the other way.”

  I doubt that, but my attention is again absorbed by the vidscreen now that we’re low enough to discern landscape features even in the dark. Something that has to be a mountain looms up, then is replaced by an enormous flat expanse. It bears no resemblance whatsoever to Nuath.

  As we continue to slow, our view is suddenly obscured by a swirling gray darkness. Finally it clears enough to show we’re hovering over a brightly lit landing area surrounded by dark structures of various sizes, the buildings and houses of Dun Cloch. Then, with an almost imperceptible bump, we touch down and the vidscreen switches off.

  We’re here.

  9

  Dun Cloch

  Dun Cloch (Dun Klok) (pop. 1,247+): founded 1933 in north-central Montana; largest Echtran compound on Earth; main production hub for Martian technology

  * * *