by Brenda Hiatt
* * *
Sure enough, my schedule is so full over the next few weeks I don’t have much time to dwell on the gnawing emptiness caidpel and the Resistance used to fill. Even my supposedly “free” afternoons often have extra classes wedged in. Then there are brief Evening Sings before dinner on those days, like in Nuath. That makes Mum happy, though I’m not really into them, since Group Sings were banned by Faxon most of my life.
Every few days, another batch of immigrants arrives to begin their Earth Orientation, making mealtimes progressively more crowded. Our classes progress from basic Duchas culture to more complicated things. One I find easier than expected is cultivating a so-called “typical American” accent, though Adina has some trouble with it. After a week or two, I even find myself thinking and dreaming in that accent instead of my old Nuathan one, which is unsettling.
Soon after our arrival, Alan talks my parents into letting me go running with him on nights when nothing else is scheduled. I appreciate the chance to work up a sweat a few days a week, but the price is Alan’s increasingly obvious flirting. No matter how many times I make it clear I’m not interested, he simply refuses to take the hint.
On one of our late-night runs, we pass the compound’s central square as a ship—the Luminosity—is being prepared for launch. Seized by a sudden, fierce longing to be aboard, to be heading back to Mars, I stop to stare at it. Which lucky people—?
“Um, we’d better keep going.” Alan interrupts my musing. “I promised my folks I’d be back by eleven.”
“Oh. Yeah. Sorry.”
Busy as I am, I try to keep an eye on Adina and Jana, who still spend a lot of time together. One evening when our parents are in the central square for Group Sing, I follow them when they sneak off to Dun Cloch’s industrial complex, where nearly all the Martian technology on Earth is produced.
“I heard them again last night,” I overhear Adina saying to Jana. “If Gaelen is busy tonight, can we try to find them? They must be somewhere nearby.”
“So watching the birds isn’t enough for you anymore?” Jana teases her. “Gaelen has had this shift the past two times, but…okay. If he’s not there, or too busy to talk to us, we can spend a little time looking for them. As long as we don’t miss dinner.”
Frowning, I tail them to the communications factory, where a handsome boy my age or possibly older is standing near the entrance looking bored. When he spots the two girls, he straightens, grinning and brushing a hand through his dark hair in a gesture that reminds me uncomfortably of Brady, back in Nuath.
“Hi, Gaelen,” Jana sings out. “We can’t stay long but I was hoping you’d be here.”
I stay out of sight until Jana’s done flirting with the guy and both girls head back for dinner. Then I approach Gaelen myself, who now eyes me with obvious interest.
“What the efrin is wrong with you?” I demand.
He blinks, then frowns. “What do you—?”
“Do you know how young those girls are? I’d better not catch you sniffing around my sister again—or any other girls her age.”
“I didn’t…I wasn’t…” he stammers, blanching now.
I just shake my head in disgust and stalk off, while he continues to splutter behind me. I don’t say anything to Adina or Jana when I see them at dinner a little later, not wanting them to know I saw them. I’m fairly sure I scared Gaelen enough to put a stop to that particular bit of mischief. Of course, now I have to worry about whatever Adina was trying to persuade Jana to do instead.
Pulling my attention away from the girls, I notice Alan moving from table to table, talking to other teens and a few slightly older immigrants. I wonder what he’s doing until he catches up with me as we’re leaving the dining hall.
“Guess what?” Alan says excitedly. “I’ve been asking around over the past few days and just now reconfirmed with some folks… Anyway, counting you and me, there are almost twenty people interested in playing some caidpel here!”
I regard him dubiously. “Yeah? So?”
“So, that means we can at least play eight-a-side. Peter even managed to find enough camman and a few balls in one of the storage buildings near the old caidpel field. You know where it is, right?”
“Um, yeah.” Soon after we got here I noticed the weed-filled clearing to the west of the temp lodgings, with its rickety goalposts. It obviously hasn’t been used in years.
His grin fades slightly at the lack of enthusiasm in my tone. “Anyway, we’re going to meet there right after classes next half-day. Isn’t that great?”
“Yeah, it is.”
Though I suspect he’s mostly doing this to score points with me, and lame as playing with a bunch of amateurs will be, at least it’s something to look forward to. Forcing a bit more eagerness into my voice, I say, “Thanks, Alan.”
“I knew you’d be excited. See you later, Kira!”
Three days later, I’m glad I didn’t expect much as I survey the motley group of young people Alan scraped together for our first attempt at a game. The ten boys and six girls range from roughly fourteen to twenty-five years old. Judging by the way they hold the camman Peter is handing out, most have never handled one before. Several, I notice, are darting furtive glances my way.
“Thanks for coming, everybody.” Alan moves to face the rest of us. “This is going to be a great way to get some exercise after all that classwork and to improve our skills at the same time. I’ve brought along Kira Morain, the Nuathan League star, just like I promised. You’ll be willing to give everyone else pointers as we go, won’t you, Kira?”
He starts to put a proprietary hand on my shoulder but I step away. Quickly, but nonchalantly enough that I hope it doesn’t look like a snub.
“I’ll do my best.” I summon a smile. “How many of you have played caidpel before?”
To my dismay, only half raise their hands. At Alan’s prompting, they introduce themselves and relate their prior caidpel experience—or lack thereof. One girl spent time on a junior team in Ballytadhg, but the others have only played for fun.
“I guess we’d better start with the basics.” I try for an encouraging smile. “Even if you’ve only watched it on the feeds, you already know caidpel is played with two balls. This is the schlitur.” I hold up the smaller one. “And this is the pell.” I toss the larger, softer ball into the air with my other hand. “Each player has a camman—” I nod toward the stick Alan is holding— “but it’s only used on the schlitur. Hands and feet can be used on both balls but you can’t carry either one more than two steps before tossing it to either a teammate or your own foot or camman. Following me so far?”
I wait for everyone to nod before continuing. “Okay. See the goalposts? Sending either ball below the first crossbar is worth one point. Between the two crossbars, three points. If you can get it through the triangle at the top, above the second crossbar, it’s five points for the schlitur, seven for the pell. That takes good aim, since the pell is nearly as big as the gap. Got it?”
Though they all nod again, one or two wear puzzled frowns. Seriously? Why are they here if they haven’t even watched enough caidpel to know how the scoring works? I’d figured it out before I was six.
“There aren’t enough of us to field two full teams of twelve, so we’ll play eight-a-side. That means each team will have a goalkeeper, three forwards, three backs and a midfielder.”
I make them all run down the field and back, then assign positions based on relative speed and size, figuring I can make changes once I have a better idea of their skills. I decide Alan and I should man the goals, so we can both watch the whole field. Since there’s no referee, I toss the two balls into the center myself to start play, then sprint to defend my goal.
Turns out, I didn’t need to hurry. Ten minutes later, neither team has progressed either ball down the field. Mostly, they’re just trying to avoid each other’s flailing sticks and feet. It takes a lot of yelling to make them stop running into each other long enough for me to cha
nge up the positions and give them a more thorough explanation of what each of them should be doing.
Things improve slightly after that…but only slightly. By the time we stop so we can all shower before dinner, most have collected a few bruises but none have come close to scoring a goal.
“Not bad for our first practice,” I lie as they gather around me. “I recommend watching a few caidpel vids so you’ll have a better idea how to play your positions next time.”
As we all head back toward our temp lodgings, several of them shyly approach me to ask what it was like being famous and, in a couple of cases, for my autograph. Sighing inwardly, I sign the proffered tablets and try to answer their questions. When I send Alan an accusatory glare, he just shrugs apologetically.
“Didn’t realize so many of them hadn’t ever played before,” he whispers once the others have dispersed. “I figured anyone really interested—”
“In playing? Or in meeting ‘famous’ Kira Morain?” I demand.
“Um…I might have played up that angle a little to get some to commit. But it was still fun, wasn’t it? I know how much you’ve missed it…”
I keep glaring for a few seconds, then relent with a shrug. “It’ll be good exercise, I guess, once we give up playing goalkeeper to be more hands-on. You don’t worry this will make it harder than ever once we leave here and never get to play again?”
He shrugs. “Maybe not, if we both end up in Jewel and—what?”
I’m laughing and shaking my head. “If you think this was bad, can you imagine trying to teach Duchas how to play? Thanks, though, Alan. It was nice of you to set this up—and I did sort of have fun.”
“I was hoping you would.” He clears his throat. “I was thinking maybe later, instead of running, we could just go for a walk. Look at the stars.” He takes a half-step toward me, one of his hands drifting toward one of mine.
I jerk my hand away, then try to cover by combing my fingers through my messy hair. “I, ah, need to get some studying in tonight, sorry. Guess we should hurry and shower or we’ll be late to dinner. See you, Alan!”
“Oh, um, sure.” He appears crestfallen, but only for a moment. Quickly summoning an engaging grin, he winks and says, “Later!”
Turning away from him, I can only shake my head at his willful self-delusion. I’ll just have to work harder at discouraging him.
When I get back to our quarters, I’m not surprised to find Mum, Dad and Adina have already gone to dinner.
I spend less than five minutes in the bathroom, taking an ionic shower and dressing in a fresh tunic and leggings. So I’m startled to come out and discover Adina is already back, fussing with something on her bunk.
“Hey, Sprout, you haven’t already eaten, have you?”
She whirls about, her face going red. “Kira! I didn’t know you were here. I, uh…”
Because she seems to be trying to screen whatever is on her bunk from my sight, I step past her to see what it is—then jump backwards with a gasp.
“Where—? What—?” I point a shaking finger at the creature looking back at me. Four-legged, with rough, yellowish-gray fur, the thing is curled on Adina’s bed, regarding both of us with eerie-looking yellow eyes.
“Do you think Mum and Dad will let me keep him?” my sister asks, turning an adoring gaze on the animal. “He’s almost a dog, right?”
I manage to find my voice. “No! Adina, that’s not a dog and you know it. Is that a…a wolf?”
She laughs. “Of course not. Just a coyote. They’re not nearly as big as wolves. You’ve heard them howling some nights, right? I was dying to see one, so I talked Jana into exploring those hills to the north with me, since that’s where the sounds always seem to come from. Most of them ran away—so did Jana—but this one stopped when I called after them, then he followed me back. I grabbed a bit of synth beef from the dining hall to coax him in here. He seemed to like it.”
“I’ll bet.” I’m still staring at the thing, half-expecting it to lunge at one of us any second. “You need to get it out of here, Adina, now. Seriously. You may be good with sheep and other domesticated animals, but this one is wild. There’s no knowing what it might do.”
Adina argues, but when I threaten to go get Mum and Dad she realizes I’m serious. Reluctantly, with many an injured look my way, she opens the outer door of our quarters.
“Go on, then,” she says to the coyote. In two smooth bounds, it leaps from her bed and out the door. Then, with just one backward glance from those weird yellow eyes, it lopes off northward. Adina heaves a sigh.
“You should check your bunk for vermin before you sleep in it again,” I tell her, still shuddering. “Sanitize your hands—thoroughly!—and then let’s go to dinner.”
She begs me not to tell our parents, so I don’t—though I do make her promise not to bring any more animals into our quarters.
* * *
By the time we’ve been in Dun Cloch a month, everyone who traveled on the Horizon with us has chosen at least one preferred community, and those who picked Jewel have named backups—except my parents. Mum refuses to name an alternate, convinced that could hurt our chances, even when Dad points out that could mean staying in Dun Cloch permanently—a choice quite a few people have already made.
“I wouldn’t mind staying here,” Adina pipes up. “Especially if we can live in one of those nice houses closer to all the shops and stuff. I think Jana’s family put it down as their second choice.”
Though I haven’t completely given up my dream of somehow getting onto a Mars-bound ship before the launch window closes, I have to admit living in Dun Cloch would be the next best thing to going home. Way better than Jewel, anyway. Here, we’d still get to use all the Martian conveniences we’re used to. Plus I could continue playing caidpel—sort of.
By now, several of those who showed up that first night have dropped out, but at least as many others have joined us, some of them permanent Dun Cloch residents who got wind of what we were doing. Gradually, our fledgling team has started to improve.
I can’t avoid spending time with Alan during those occasional caidpel practices, but other than that I’ve been doing my best to steer clear of him. For example, I no longer coordinate my evening runs with him, going out alone more often than not, though my parents don’t know that. They also don’t know how often I hang around the launch area. Unless it’s—shudder—raining, I swing by there almost every night, especially when a ship is getting ready to leave for Mars.
Eventually I strike up a slight acquaintance with one of the women working there and casually ask if they ever take on new crew members.
To my embarrassment, she chuckles. “You’re not the first to ask, but no—certainly never this late in a launch window. Nor would someone your age be eligible. Sorry. And please don’t get any ideas about getting aboard any other way. Last week a young man attempted to stow away—hid inside one of the supply trolleys before it went in. The pre-launch sensor sweep found him, of course, but I’m afraid the incident was rather embarrassing for his family.”
That effectively squelches every scheme I’ve considered for returning home. Still, I keep watching the ships and hoping against hope until the very last one leaves at the end of the current, extended launch window. At that point, I abandon my nighttime running regimen altogether, finally, painfully forced to accept that I’m stuck on Earth for at least two years.
11
Emileia
Emileia (em-i-LAY-ah): current Thiarna (Sovereign), granddaughter to Sovereign Leontine; sole heir to the Nuathan monarchy
* * *
Two days before our six-week Orientation period ends, we arrive for breakfast to see a dozen uniformed men sweeping the dining hall with sensors.
“What’s going on?” Dad whispers to a man at a nearby table.
“Something to do with the Sovereign’s visit later today,” he replies. “Standard security measures, they said.”
I regard the nearest uniformed guy dubiou
sly—they all have energy weapons, just like the ones Faxon’s soldiers used to carry, holstered at their hips.
Mum brightens, however. “Oh, I can’t wait to see Sovereign Emileia again! I’m pleased they’re not taking her safety lightly after those Nuathan protests we used to see on the feeds.”
I’m a lot less pleased by all the extra security. For one thing, there are only half the usual selections available for breakfast, probably because of disruptions in the kitchen. And the uniformed detail is paying way too much attention to private conversations among the diners, which leads to lots of awkward silences. When we leave, more security people posted at the exits sweep us with sensors—I assume looking for hidden weapons.
“It’s like living under Faxon again,” I mutter as we head toward the instruction area.
“Oh, Kira, don’t be silly,” Mum admonishes me. “It’s only for today. They published the Sovereign’s schedule shortly after she landed in Bailerealta. She has half a dozen stops to make before finally returning to Jewel next week. I wonder if it will be possible to speak to her personally? I must ask about that.”
A few minutes later we find out all of today’s classes have been canceled to allow everyone to get ready for the Sovereign’s visit.
“What, are we supposed to dress up or something?” I wonder aloud to Adina.
“I hope not. I didn’t bring anything very fancy. What do you think, Mum?”
She just smiles. “I imagine as long as we’re well-groomed and presentable, it will be fine. Oh!” She looks at the screen of her omni. “I have a reply. It says if I’m willing to undergo some additional screening, I may have a chance to speak with the Sovereign after her speech. I’ll go do that now.”
“I’ll come with you,” Dad offers. “We’ll see you girls back at the lodging.”
“If I’d known they’d be canceling classes, I’d have scheduled caidpel for this morning,” I grumble once our parents are out of earshot.