The Girl From Mars

by Brenda Hiatt

  “I didn’t know you and Sean O’Gara knew each other back in Nuath,” I whisper to Alan as we walk together to U.S. Government. Most Jewel seniors would have taken that class already, but we were told our Orientation crash course wasn’t thorough enough for a subject so important—and so unfamiliar.

  “Not very well. It was years ago, when his family was still calling themselves Mulgrew and pretending to be Ags because, well, you know.”

  I nod. The O’Garas were the highest-ranking Royals still in Nuath by then. Faxon almost certainly would have had them executed if he’d known who they were. My parents considered Sean’s parents heroes, taking such a risk so they could help the Resistance. So did I—though I never heard about Sean himself doing anything particularly heroic.

  Alan and I have U.S. Government next. So do Sean, his sister, the Sovereign and Rigel Stuart. That makes the class almost a quarter Echtran, which strikes me as mildly hilarious, given the subject.

  The others have apparently spent the past few weeks working on some assignment they have to turn in tomorrow. Since it’s obviously too late for Alan and me to start it now, the teacher suggests we sit near the back and read our textbooks while the others break into pairs to finish up their projects.

  Alan and I wait till the others start talking together before beginning a conversation the Duchas, with their lame hearing, won’t even notice.

  “Huh, check it out,” Alan breathes to me as soon as the volume in the room is sufficient to mask his words. “Stuart and Sean are partners. Weird.”

  “The teacher said the projects were assigned almost a month ago, so they must have teamed up before Rigel got his memory back. Before he and the Sov—um, M—got back together.” Even using a sub-whisper, I need to get out of the habit of referring to her as “the Sovereign” in school.

  “Must have. Gotta be awkward now, though.”

  With my mission in mind, I keep a surreptitious eye on the two boys after that. They don’t quite act like best buddies, but if Sean hates Rigel as much as I’d expect, he hides it awfully well. Which means if he’s acting, he’s a lot better at it than I am—though that’s not saying much.

  My next class is Economics, which seemed like a good idea since that sort of thing is so different here than in Nuath, or even Dun Cloch. Plus it’s required.

  The Sovereign happens to be in this class, too. So is Trina, that cheerleader from lunch. She grabs my arm the moment she sees me.

  “Hey, Carrie!” Trina leads me to the far side of the room—away from the Sovereign, which is fine with me.

  “Um, Kira,” I correct her.

  “Oh, right, Kira, sorry! You remember Amber, don’t you? And Donna? How is your first day going? Move over one, Donna, so Kira can sit here.”

  The dark-haired girl obediently goes to a different desk. Does everyone at this school let Trina order them around? Is she, like, the head teen Duchas?

  “So, Kira,” she says to me in a slightly lower voice, “tell me about Alan.” No trouble remembering his name, I notice. “Have you known each other long?”

  “A few years, I guess. Our parents worked together at NuAgra, back East.”

  She eyes me speculatively. “So are you two, like, a thing?”

  “Alan and me? No. Definitely not a thing. Why?” Though that’s obvious, given how pleased she seems by my answer.

  “No reason. It’s just…” Trina looks over her shoulder in the direction of the Sovereign. “If you were, I was going to warn you to watch out for Marsha Truitt over there. She’s got a bad habit of stealing other girls’ boyfriends. Who knows what they see in her, it’s not like she’s even pretty. She must be really easy, is all I can figure.”

  She snickers and her adherents Amber and Donna join in. I almost do, too, I so enjoy hearing her bad-mouth the Sovereign—something nobody in “my” world would do. But with her Martian hearing, I’m sure the subject of Trina’s spite can hear everything we’re saying perfectly well.

  Sure, most people who know me—including Alan and my own family—also know my opinion of the Sovereign. But I’d be stupid to antagonize her so soon after getting here. Especially since I’m supposed to win her trust. Or at least that of her friends.

  “Anyway, I hope you’ll consider going out for cheerleading. It’ll be a perfect opportunity to get to know the people who really matter in this school.”

  “I’ll, um…try,” I say noncommittally as the teacher calls for quiet.

  The lesson is even more simplistic than I feared, so I spend most of the class concocting ways I might turn Trina’s animosity against the Sovereign to my advantage.

  “What do you have next?” Trina asks when the bell rings forty-five minutes later.

  “Work study.”

  “Huh?”

  I explain that Alan and I and the Walsh twins will be spending three afternoons a week at NuAgra, learning various jobs there. “Kind of an apprenticeship—and we get school credit for it.”

  “Oh, interesting. But since it’s not every day, you should totally stop by cheerleading practice after school on one of your off-days and try out. I think you’d be a great addition to the squad.”

  Mindful that Trina might be useful, I don’t refuse—though yelling cheers from the sidelines during sporting events sounds lame. “Thanks. Maybe I will.”

  “Cool! Hey, do you think I can come out to NuAgra sometime, too? You or Alan could show me around. I’ll bet it’s fascinating.”

  “I’ll, ah, ask about that.” Of course the answer will be no, since no Duchas are allowed inside the NuAgra campus. Too big a risk they’ll see or hear something they shouldn’t.

  The Sovereign smiles at me as I pass her and I give her my friendliest smile in return, trying to make up, at least a little, for the way I acted toward her earlier today. She looks like she’s about to say something to me, but then glances over my shoulder at Trina and apparently changes her mind.

  Huh. Looks like even the Sovereign is afraid to cross Trina. Interesting.

  I stop by the front office to sign myself out, as I was told to do, then go outside where Liam, Lucas and Alan are already waiting. A moment later a maroon minivan pulls up.

  “Hop in.”

  To my surprise, the driver is Quinn O’Gara, Sean’s father—the man who escorted the Sovereign all over Nuath when she was trying to get Acclaimed, then afterward, during her campaign to convince people to emigrate. Now he’s been demoted to chauffeur duty?

  “They haven’t lined up your regular ride yet,” he explains once we’re all in the van, “so I offered to fill in until they do. How was your first day of school?”

  He chats pleasantly all the way out to NuAgra. Not at all like I’d expect a high-ranking Royal to act toward non-Royals, especially minors. Maybe those in charge hope if they make us comfortable enough, we’ll be less likely to slip up around the Duchas? He must have some motive for being so…nice.

  NuAgra looks even bigger in daylight. That first night I only noticed the main, central building but there are three others at least as large set further back from the road. A huge area is fenced off for the research fields, something else I couldn’t see last night.

  If they plan to use the complex for both agricultural research and as the eventual headquarters for Echtran government, I guess it would have to be large, but it’s still a little overwhelming.

  After the guard at the gate waves us through, Quinn parks in the big lot and escorts us to the main entrance. We all scan in our handprints and the doors open to the big, softly lit reception area I saw last night.

  “Do you all know where you’re supposed to go?” Quinn asks us. “Agricultural research is straight back and the Engineering offices are in the building to our left, which you can reach through that corridor.” He points it out to the Walsh twins. “Your parents will take you home at the end of their shifts. I hope you’ll find your time here educational.”

  “Thank you, Qu—er, Mr. O’Gara.” I belatedly remember they use la
st names a lot more on Earth than in Nuath, especially for adults and people in authority. The others echo my thanks, spared by my example from making slips of their own.

  “Quinn is fine here, but it’s safest to stick to the local custom around the townsfolk. I’ll see you all at tonight’s meeting, if not before.” With a farewell smile, he exits the complex.

  Liam and Lucas head to Engineering and Alan and I walk down the central corridor. The Agricultural Research area takes up the entire back half of the main building, then extends well behind it into a collection of greenhouses, the fourth big building, and the fields beyond. I’m still gazing around in awe when my mum hurries up.

  “Kira! You’re here, good. How was your first day of school?”

  “Fine,” I say automatically, just like I have the other dozen or more times I’ve been asked that question today. “What are we supposed to be doing?”

  She describes her current project, which involves genetically improving various types of leafy green vegetables—spinach, arugula and kale, mostly. “Your father has been assigned to root vegetables, in greenhouse six. Alan, I believe your parents are both in greenhouse two, working with fruits.”

  Alan goes off to join them and I start examining Mum’s subjects, reading labels and synopses of what genetic modifications have been tried so far. Soon I’m absorbed in sorting butter lettuce seeds for the next round of testing.

  Almost before I know it, a chime signals the end of the work day. Checking my phone, I’m startled to see I’ve been here two hours. Dad joins us from greenhouse six and we all walk through the enormous building to the parking lot.

  “Did Adina take the bus back to our apartment?” I forgot to ask earlier.

  “No, Jana’s mother gave them a ride,” Dad replies. “She works an earlier shift than we do, so she’ll be home in the afternoons to keep an eye on the girls. I can drive you to school again tomorrow, if you’d like, though after that you should take the bus.”

  I nod absently, wondering if it’s worth reporting back to Allister and Lennox that I’ve now met all the other Echtrans in school. Probably not, since I haven’t learned anything yet.

  “We’d best get dinner started right away,” Mum says when we get home. “The meeting begins at eight o’clock and I’d like to be there early.”

  My sister and I compare notes about our first day of school while helping Mum put together a tuna casserole and salads.

  “Everyone was so nice,” Adina keeps saying. “The Sovereign wasn’t kidding that it’s a friendly town and school.”

  “M,” I remind her. “That’s what she told us to call her. If we get in the habit of that even when it’s just us, we’ll be less likely to slip up at school.” The nickname also makes her seem less intimidating…not that I’m intimidated, of course.

  Mum turns a curious and slightly alarmed look our way. “M? Is that really what people call her at school?”

  “They told us that in Dun Cloch, Mum, remember?”

  She looks slightly confused for a moment, then nods. “Oh, yes, of course. It just sounds so…disrespectful.”

  Dad looks up from his tablet. “I doubt she finds it disrespectful, as it’s the name she grew up with. It’s all part of maintaining secrecy, Deirdra.”

  “You’re right, Aidan, of course. Ah, there’s the timer for the casserole. Let’s eat.”

  * * *

  A little over an hour later, we’re in the same huge lecture hall at NuAgra where we were first welcomed last night. It’s still mostly empty, since we’re among the first to arrive.

  “Let’s sit right up front,” Mum suggests eagerly. “We’ll be able to see and hear better there.”

  We follow her down the central aisle to discover the first row has a cord stretched across the seats. Reserved for the so-called important people, I assume. Undeterred, Mum ushers us into the second row, right behind them.

  Over the next fifteen minutes the big room slowly fills, mostly from the front. Apparently Mum isn’t the only one who wants to sit as close to the Sovereign as possible. Right at eight o’clock she enters through a door at the front of the room, accompanied by the whole O’Gara family.

  Sean, Molly and their mother move to sit in the front row, where the cord is hastily removed for them. Sean flashes me a smile and I make myself smile back, startled to realize he’s at least as handsome as Alan. He sits directly in front of me.

  “Good first day?” he whispers over his shoulder.

  Mum’s eyes go wide at what she undoubtedly considers a huge honor, but I ignore her. “Fine,” I whisper back.

  Just then, a sort of tremor seems to run through the assembled crowd. Heads turn and a low, indignant murmur breaks out as Rigel Stuart and two people I assume are his parents walk down the center aisle and take the remaining seats in the front row.

  I don’t get it. If he and the…M…are really back together, why did she come here with the O’Garas instead? Politics? It seems hypocritical, even underhanded, for her to spend all her time with Rigel at school, then barely acknowledge him here. For the first time, I feel a faint stirring of sympathy for Sean, having to go along with all this for appearance’s sake.

  Sean’s father introduces the Sovereign—he doesn’t call her M, I notice—and she takes his place at the podium. Cheers break out, and chants of “Long live Sovereign Emileia,” in Martian. I guess here at NuAgra we’re supposed to observe all the forms? The inconsistency irritates me.

  After a moment the Sovereign begins what’s clearly a prepared speech, thanking us for coming, saluting our courage, and talking up the town of Jewel.

  “While the people here are not as sophisticated or technologically advanced as we are, they do have valuable qualities of their own that I hope you will learn to appreciate as you get to know them better,” she says at one point. From what I’ve seen so far, I’m skeptical.

  She goes on to remind us—again—how important secrecy is. We’re also admonished to be extra friendly to the locals, so they don’t start resenting us. To dumb ourselves down, in other words. After warning those of us attending Jewel High that the school newspaper plans to interview each of us over the next week or so, she continues in a slightly different vein.

  “As you settle in, please feel free to reach out to the O’Garas, the Stuarts, our local Echtran Council members, or to me through them, with any questions or issues you might have. However, I must ask that you not approach me by way of my adoptive aunt or uncle or any of my non-Echtran friends. While I appreciate the thought behind them, surely you must understand that gifts and dinner invitations extended to my uncle at work are completely inappropriate and cannot be accepted.”

  Next to me, Mum goes scarlet and she and Dad exchange a guilty glance—which pisses me off. How dare this girl embarrass my parents like that when they were just trying to be nice?

  She finishes her speech, then invites the O’Garas and Stuarts to join her up front to help answer questions from the audience. Hands go up and people start asking stuff—mostly about Rigel Stuart—but I don’t pay much attention. I’m still seething over the way she singled out my parents. Mum is practically her biggest fan, and this is how she repays her?

  The question and answer period goes on past nine o’clock, even though almost every question is about something we were already told before we got here. Apparently these people paid even less attention than I did to our special Jewel classes in Dun Cloch.

  Finally, Mr. O’Gara calls a halt. “I believe that will do for tonight, as it’s either a work night or a school night for most of us. Further questions can be directed to me or to any other Echtrans who have resided in Jewel for a while.”

  The Sovereign thanks everyone again and closes the meeting. The second people start to stand up, Mum and Dad startle me by making a beeline for the Sovereign. So do a lot of other people but because we’re right down front, my parents get to her first. Right fists over their hearts, they both bow—more deeply than necessary, in my opinion.<
br />
  “Excellency, please allow us to apologize!” Mum says as she straightens up. “You were right, of course, that inviting you to dinner through your uncle was inappropriate. But when Mona and Brad came up while we—”

  Then she stops, going bright red again. “Oh! I’m so sorry, Excellency! I should have introduced myself at once. I’m Deirdra Morain and this is my husband, Aidan. And these—”

  She turns toward Adina and me but no way I’m going up there. Adina takes a step forward but I put a hand on her arm to stop her. I don’t want my sister bowing and scraping like that, either.

  The Sovereign looks more amused than upset. That only pisses me off more, after the way she made my parents squirm. She says something condescending about remembering Mum from Dun Cloch, and basically admits she shouldn’t have made such a big deal about a simple dinner invitation. Sure, now she says that!

  Even so, Dad starts apologizing, too, until Quinn O’Gara insists he doesn’t need to worry, that they’re still working out all the rules. Yeah, it would have been nice if the Sovereign had said that upfront, before humiliating anyone.

  My parents thank them like they’ve been pardoned from a capital crime and back away with more exaggerated bowing.

  “So gracious of her,” Mum says as they rejoin Adina and me. “I don’t know what we were thinking!”

  I try to hurry them all toward the exit, eager to get out of here. The moment we’re back outside, I give vent to my feelings.

  “How dare she scold you in front of everyone like that, when you’ve done nothing but support her!” I fume. “She had no right—”

  “Hush, Kira,” Mum says, more forcefully than I expect. “She had every right. She’s the Sovereign and she’s quite correct that it was wrong of us to take advantage of a chance business acquaintance with her uncle that way. Her adoptive guardians may not even know who she is—I read not long ago that they didn’t. Really, what we did was inexcusable, under the circumstances.”