The Girl From Mars

by Brenda Hiatt

  Feeling a little silly, I jog on the spot until she tells me to stop.

  “That will do. Thank you, Miss Morain.”

  Allister then sees me to the front door. “Don’t risk suspicion by contacting us too frequently, but do report back with anything of interest you learn after reaching Jewel.”

  “Of course.”

  Like last time, he makes sure the street outside is deserted before wishing me good night.

  * * *

  Over the next week, I take advantage of every private moment to explore the spiffy new stuff on my phone. Along with the various apps I find text files similar to those Crevan Erc previously gave me, but with more examples of why our new Sovereign is such bad news for Nuath.

  Reading those files convinces me further that Emileia has never been more than a puppet, a spineless figurehead swayed this way and that by the adults around her. In Nuath, her every step and word was orchestrated by others—first Quinn O’Gara, then Regent Shim. No wonder, considering her numerous lapses in judgment when she’s attempted to act on her own initiative.

  Some of those, like that kiss aboard the Quintessence, made the feeds, but now I learn about goofs that were kept from the media, like that attempted elopement when she was only fifteen. There are others, too, like starting a public brawl with a Duchas girl at her school right before leaving for Mars. It makes me wonder what kind of behind-the-scenes dealing was involved in allowing Rigel Stuart to accompany her.

  Meanwhile, we’re wrapping up the last of our coursework and finishing touches are being made to where everyone will live and what they’ll do once in Jewel.

  “Can I request to be put in ninth grade instead of eighth?” Adina asks over lunch the day before our grade levels will be finalized. “We’re allowed to request the next grade up if we do well enough on the tests and if it’s okay with our parents.”

  My parents exchange a concerned glance. “They don’t feel that could look suspicious?” Dad asks.

  Adina shakes her head. “Jana says it would be more suspicious for me to still be in eighth, since they let really smart Duchas kids skip grades sometimes, and we’re pretty much all smarter than they are. Jana’s going to be in ninth for sure, and the kids going to Jewel Middle School are all younger than me. Please?”

  “Actually, I think that’s a good idea,” I offer when our parents still hesitate. “That way Adina and I will be at the same school and I can keep an eye on her. Protect her if I have to.”

  “Protect her?” Dad frowns. “Why should that be necessary?”

  I shrug. “Even with all this training, there’s still stuff we don’t know about the Duchas—specific ones, anyway. From the Earth news I’ve read, bullying is way more common among the Duchas than they’ve told us in our courses.”

  Probably why the Sovereign didn’t get in trouble for attacking that girl last spring. If she suspects how much I hate her and goes after me, I can defend myself. Adina, I’m not so sure about.

  “I suppose so,” Mum says at last. “If you do well enough on all of your tests.”

  “I will!” Adina beams at her. “I’ve been studying extra hard.”

  The next day, I’m offered the option of signing up for twelfth grade rather than eleventh because I’m already seventeen. I take it. Being a year ahead of the Sovereign should mean seeing less of her.

  That seems a lot safer to me, mission or no mission.

  13

  Moill

  moill (mahl): delay; postponement.

  * * *

  It’s early September by the time we finish our special Jewel classes. The next evening, Fianna calls another after-dinner meeting to congratulate us.

  “I’ve looked over the results of your final evaluations and you all seem well prepared to make the transition to Jewel. You’ll be traveling by charter bus in four groups of about fifty each. The first group will leave day after tomorrow, with the rest following over the next few days. Check your tablets for your departure times.”

  Mum immediately does so. “Oh, no, it looks as though we’re in the last group. Not surprising, I suppose, as the work your father and I will be doing can’t begin until a few other things are in place, but—”

  “It’ll be fine, Deirdra.” Dad pats her hand. “They told us all the kids will start school on the same day, so our girls won’t be any further behind than the others. We’ve waited this long. What’s a few more days?”

  “You’re right.” She relaxes into a smile. “I’m just eager to be there.”

  I pull out my own tablet. Alan will be on the first bus, I see, and the Walsh twins and Erin Campbell on the second. Ours won’t leave for nearly a week. Jana and her family will be on our bus, to Adina’s delight.

  “That means we have time for some fun here before we go,” Jana whispers. The two of them immediately put their heads together, no doubt plotting some last-minute mischief. I’d like to think they’ll get it all out of their systems before we get to Jewel, but I’m not optimistic.

  The following night, Alan walks back to the lodgings with me after dinner. “We leave super early tomorrow, but I’ll see you in a few days. Try not to get bored once I’m gone, okay?”

  “I’ll do my best.” I keep my voice light, wanting no part of some romantic goodbye. “Use your Duchas phone to take pictures along the way and post a report to the forum so us latecomers will know what to expect.”

  “Oh. Sure, okay. Well, um, goodbye for now, Kira.”

  “Bye, Alan. See you soon!” With a cheery wave, I go inside before he can attempt the farewell kiss I suspect he’s angling for.

  * * *

  Five days later, it’s finally our turn to leave. A few minutes before sunrise, the last forty-two Jewel-bound immigrants gather in Dun Cloch’s central square to begin our two-day trip to Jewel. The driver is still loading our luggage into a big hold beneath the bus when an announcement blares over the speakers positioned around the square.

  “Everyone, please retrieve your belongings and return to your quarters. We’ve just received word from the Echtran Council that all relocations have been put on hold until further notice. More information will be shared with you as we receive it. Thank you.”

  Startled and baffled, we all stand staring at each other for a moment before a worried babble breaks out.

  “Do you think something has happened?” Mum asks. “Something…bad?”

  Dad shrugs. “We won’t know until they find out more. For now, I guess we may as well get our bags and head back.”

  Everyone else starts doing the same, though not without a fair bit of grumbling. We were already going to be the very last group. How much longer will we have to wait now?

  As for myself, I have a whole separate worry—that someone, somehow, found out about my mission and that’s why they stopped my whole group from getting on the bus. I can’t imagine how, but the thought still niggles at me as we return to the lodgings I’d hoped never to see again.

  By lunchtime we still haven’t been given any reason for the delay and people are getting understandably antsy.

  “What about the children starting school?” Jana’s mother says worriedly as their family joins ours at one of the big tables. “Weren’t they all supposed to be registering for their classes by the end of this week?”

  “Looks like that will be pushed back, too,” her husband replies, pulling out his Duchas-style mobile phone. “Michael Walsh texted me an hour ago saying their bus driver was told to stop just south of Chicago instead of continuing on to Jewel. They’re all staying in a hotel until they hear otherwise.”

  That makes everyone more curious than ever but I’m mostly relieved. If other buses are being held up, too, the delay must not have anything to do with me or my mission.

  “Ooh, this week’s Echtran Enquirer is out!” Jana exclaims when we’re all nearly done eating. “And whoa, check out the headline! ‘Sovereign Emileia Rekindles Forbidden Romance,’” she reads aloud.

  Everyone else at the
table scrambles for their own tablets. Though the Enquirer tends toward sensationalism and gossip, it’s been our only regular source of Echtran and Nuathan news. Well, unless you count MARSTAR Bulletins from the Echtran Council, but there have only been two of those all summer.

  From that headline, it sounds like this article might play right into my hands, so I don’t waste any time opening it on my own tablet.

  “Rigel Stuart’s memory returned?” Dad glances at Mum, next to him. “I thought that was supposed to be impossible.”

  “It says here that Gordon Nolan doesn’t think it was ever erased in the first place.” Jana’s mother nods at her tablet. “It was all a ploy to play on the Sovereign’s sympathies—which apparently worked. The Council needs to take that young man into custody before he can cause any more damage! He has no right to toy with Sovereign Emileia’s affections like that.”

  Mum nods her emphatic agreement. “I can’t imagine why he was permitted to continue associating with her once Sean O’Gara moved to Jewel. I suppose she and the Council were grateful for the role he and his family played in protecting her from Faxon’s assassins, but they were allowed far too much familiarity given the difference in their stations.”

  I barely suppress a snort. That sort of blind acceptance of the Royal fine’s superiority is the first thing the Populists—and I—want to do away with. If this new development starts to undermine confidence in the Sovereign’s new government, like the reporter predicts, it will be all to the good.

  “Poor Sean!” Adina says when she finishes reading the article.

  “Yeah, he must feel awful!” Jana agrees. “Ooh, maybe we can help take his mind off it when we get to Jewel, you think?”

  Though I can’t summon any real sympathy for arrogant Royal Sean O’Gara, the girls’ comments prompt another, more thoughtful look at the article. My eyes linger on the next-to-last line: “Our sympathies, of course, are with Sean, who is again a victim of the Sovereign’s poor judgment in dallying with a non-Royal.”

  Hmm. If everything in this article is true, Sean should be more motivated to work against the Sovereign than anyone in Jewel. Can I maybe use that to the Populists’ advantage?

  * * *

  That night after dinner, I discover I’m not the only one with that thought. When my special phone vibrates in my tunic pocket, I hurriedly duck into the bathroom to check it.

  New developments in Jewel. Recommend you cultivate Sean O’Gara once established there. May be excellent source of information and valuable ally for our cause. Do what you must to win his confidence, then contact us for further instructions.

  The idea of getting close to Sean O’Gara doesn’t particularly appeal to me. Since that incident at Sheelah’s, I’ve had more contempt for him than ever. But if that’s what it will take to bring about a truly representative government, it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.

  Sean’s mother, I’ve learned, is not just a member of the Echtran Council, but Allister Adair’s sister. As Sean’s uncle, Allister should be able to give me tips along the way to help me influence Sean, if necessary. For my bedtime reading, I call up everything I can find on Sean O’Gara.

  * * *

  “I can’t believe they still won’t tell us what’s going on,” Grady Quinlan’s father complains at lunch the following day.

  Because Grady’s the only other Jewel High-bound student left in Dun Cloch, his parents have made a point of joining our family and Jana’s for the past few meals—though Grady’s too shy to say much.

  “Maybe they haven’t been told themselves, yet,” Dad suggests.

  Jana’s dad snorts. “Someone knows. But apparently we’re not allowed to.”

  The adults are still throwing out theories on what the problem might be when we all leave the dining hall. I wish I dared believe the ones that involve the Sovereign disappearing—or worse.

  “C’mon, Kira, Grady, let’s go see what arrived from Bailerealta for the shops this morning,” Jana says. “They should be unloading everything right about now.”

  I suspect she and Adina really want to flirt with a couple of the younger stock boys but since I have nothing better to do, I go along to keep them out of trouble. Grady begs off, saying he’d rather read.

  Once everything is off the truck, the three of us spend the rest of the afternoon browsing in Dun Cloch’s two clothing stores, even though none of us have any money to spend. Our parents claim we will after they start their jobs at NuAgra, in Jewel.

  I’m longingly fingering a pretty shawl the exact green of my old Ag caidpel team’s logo when a compound-wide announcement instructs everyone to gather in the main square. Exchanging curious glances, the girls and I start moving that way.

  “Maybe they finally plan to tell us what’s going on,” Jana suggests.

  That’s my guess, too. “Hope so. Come on.”

  The square is already full to overflowing when we get there. Before the recent launch window, Dun Cloch was already the biggest Echtran settlement, with over a thousand residents. Now, with so many newcomers opting to stay here permanently, its population has roughly doubled. The excited chatter of two thousand voices creates a dull roar reminiscent of what I used to hear at my matches. I scan the crowd for Mum, wondering how she’s handling it.

  A voice from the speakers cuts across the rumble of voices. “Everyone, please turn your attention to the surrounding vidscreens for a statement from Sovereign Emileia.”

  Sudden silence falls over the square, then the four huge vidscreens simultaneously show the Sovereign’s face. She looks nervous.

  “Hello, everyone,” her voice booms across us. “What I have to tell you may sound like a history lesson at first, but please bear with me. As most of you know, Nuath was originally created well over two thousand years ago when an alien race transplanted the inhabitants of a small Irish village to a prepared habitat under the surface of Mars.”

  That’s what they taught us in school, anyway, though I always wondered…

  “Most of Nuath’s earliest history has been lost in the mists of time,” the Sovereign continues, “but we know that our alien abductors remained for less than a thousand years before inexplicably disappearing. They left a lot of their technology behind, though, and over the centuries Nuathans put most of it to good use. For example, by adapting alien technology for space travel nearly six hundred years ago, we discovered that our nearest neighbor, Earth, was our species’ home of origin. But while we figured out many ways to use their technology, we never did figure out who those early aliens were—until now.”

  The silence around me becomes profound as every single person in the square holds their breath, riveted. I certainly am.

  “I have recently been contacted by those aliens—they call themselves the Grentl—and have learned that they are worried about what humans, particularly Earth humans, are evolving into. They feel partly responsible for what they consider some wrong turns by our race, and now plan to undo as much of our modern progress as possible.

  “By now, some of you may have heard about the satellites taking up positions around the Earth. The Grentl plan to use them to generate a massive electromagnetic pulse with the intention of disrupting all Earth communications and technology. This is expected to occur this coming Saturday at 12:47am Eastern time on Earth, or 5:47am Nuathan time. While Nuath itself should not be directly affected by this pulse, Earth is likely to experience a complete loss of power, and possibly much worse.”

  A frightened murmur runs through the crowd but quickly subsides as the Sovereign continues speaking. We’re all hanging on her every word now.

  “The Echtran Council and our most qualified Scientists recommend that everyone living on Earth shut down and disconnect all electronics before midnight Friday night. This includes car and other batteries and anything else that could be affected by an EMP. If you can, please urge your Duchas neighbors to do the same. A story is already being sent to Duchas media worldwide, warning of unusual sunspot activ
ity and encouraging them to take exactly these precautions.

  “If enough of us do this, we may weather the Grentl’s assault with minimal damage or casualties. I’m sure you have a lot of questions. You can direct them to Regent Shim Stuart on Nuath and to Kyna Nuallan of the Echtran Council on Earth. Above all, please don’t panic. We are a resilient people and I have every confidence that we’ll all come through this challenge stronger than ever. Thank you, and God bless you all.”

  * * *

  The vidscreens go dark. We all stand frozen for several tense, silent heartbeats, then everyone starts talking at once.

  Cries of, “Can it be true?” and “How can it be true?” break out from every direction before another announcement cuts across the frightened jabber.

  “Everyone, please return to your homes in an orderly fashion. We will evaluate how best to comply with the Sovereign’s requests and tell you all how to prepare for what’s coming. Meanwhile, please heed the Sovereign’s final admonition and do not panic. We have every confidence that our Scientists can avert a large-scale catastrophe.”

  Slowly, dazedly, people move to obey, breaking into smaller groups to continue discussing what we just heard. Despite all the assurances, nearly everyone seems on the verge of panic. Off to my left, I hear a woman crying hysterically that she wants to go back to Nuath and somewhere behind me a man loudly declares he doesn’t believe a word of it.

  “The old religion was true after all!” I hear someone wail. “We ignored our gods all these centuries and now they’re angry!”

  “I think it’s Faxon’s doing!” another shouts. “His parting shot, to do away with us all.”

  “I told you coming here was a terrible idea!”

  The frightened babble swirls around us.

  Adina and Jana seem more excited at the moment than scared, to my relief. I keep them both close as we move through the crowd. Finally I see our parents up ahead and hurry the younger girls toward them.