Fractured Jewel

by Brenda Hiatt

  “You don’t think he’ll say anything to them, do you? About…you know.”

  “I’d like to think he has a bit more sense than that, but I know how he loves to spin stories to impress his friends, especially after a beer or two. I can’t help worrying he might get carried away.”

  “I’m sure he won’t.” I tried to sound more confident than I felt.

  “You’re probably right. At any rate, we won’t wait dinner on him. Especially as you have that NuAgra thing tonight. Did you put the roast into the oven when you got home?”

  I nodded. “I saw your note on the fridge. But that reminds me, I should check to make sure they haven’t changed the time of the meeting.”

  Hurrying up to my room, I went to my nightstand…but the omni wasn’t there. I was almost sure I’d left it right next to my alarm clock.

  “Huh,” I said out loud, pulling open the drawer. Had I stuck it back into my old glasses case out of habit? Nope. Not there, either.

  After a quick search of my whole nightstand, then the floor and bed next to it, I went back downstairs.

  “Aunt Theresa, I didn’t leave my omni down here last night after showing it to you and Uncle Louie, did I?”

  She turned from the sink, where she was scrubbing potatoes, to blink at me in surprise. “Not that I noticed. And I believe I would have noticed.”

  “Weird. I couldn’t find it in my room. I’ll go look again.”

  I went back up and checked all my drawers and even emptied out my backpack, since once or twice during last week’s Grentl crisis I’d brought it to school with me. Nothing. Then a terrible suspicion entered my mind. Surely, surely Uncle Louie wouldn’t have taken it?

  He had said something about wanting to show my Medal of Freedom to his buddies, but Aunt Theresa and I had quickly totally vetoed that—and the medal was still on my dresser. He had to know waving my omni around would be even worse. Didn’t he?

  Hoping like crazy I was wrong, I headed back down to the kitchen. Not wanting to scare Aunt Theresa—yet—I didn’t say anything, just helped her cut up the veggies to add to the pot roast for its last hour in the oven. After that I did my best to concentrate on the last bit of my speech and then on some homework, but I couldn’t help worrying. And searching my room again.

  We’d already finished eating when Uncle Louie walked in.

  “Finally!” my aunt huffed at him. “You’ll have to reheat your dinner in the microwave, as it’s cold by now.”

  “Oops, sorry. Guess it’s later than I thought.”

  It was obvious he’d been drinking, and probably more than the two beers Aunt Theresa always insisted had to be his limit. Since the O’Garas would be here any minute to pick me up, I didn’t have time to beat around the bush.

  “Hi, Uncle Louie,” I said brightly. “You didn’t happen to do something with my omni, did you? I can’t seem to find it.” I quickly focused in case he lied to me.

  He didn’t. “Oh, um, yeah, sorry. I, er, saw it lying on the table and figured that wasn’t a good place for it, so I kind of, um stuck it in my pocket. Sorry. Here.” Looking slightly embarrassed, he fished it out of his pants pocket and handed it to me.

  Aunt Theresa dropped the pan she was rinsing into the sink with a clatter. “Louie! You took that with you to work? To that bar? What if someone had seen it? What would you have told them?”

  “Don’t worry, Theresa, I couldn’t make it do anything.” He seemed more disgruntled than apologetic.

  “You mean you tried?” I demanded.

  He shrugged. “Maybe just a little. It was so cool, what you showed us last night…” He trailed off, both of our horrified expressions finally registering. “Sorry,” he repeated, more sincerely this time.

  “I thought you understood how important—” I began, then heard the O’Garas’ car pulling into our driveway. “I’ve got to go. But Uncle Louie, you can’t do anything like this again. Seriously!”

  Shamefaced now, he nodded. “I know. I won’t.”

  He seemed to really mean it this time but I’d make absolutely sure of that when I got back. “Okay. I’ll try not to be too late tonight, Aunt Theresa. Bye!”

  As I left the kitchen I saw her turning the same expression on Uncle Louie she’d turned on me more times than I could count.

  Nope, he definitely hadn’t heard the last about how foolish he’d been. Nobody could lecture like my aunt. Maybe I wouldn’t need to say much to him myself after all.

  8

  Crystallization

  IT had been at least six months since I’d been past the old transmission plant on the outskirts of Jewel. As the O’Garas’ car approached it now, I was stunned by how dramatically it had changed.

  The four enormous metal buildings were still there, but instead of squatting in an endless expanse of trash-strewn dirt and weeds, they were now surrounded by lush green grass dotted with young trees. Newly-planted shrubs and flowers bordered a long drive leading to the freshly-painted complex. A large green sign by the gate read, “NuAgra—Nu Crops for a New World.”

  Mr. O’Gara slowed the minivan to a halt in front of an imposing looking steel gate set in an equally imposing ten-foot fence that stretched in both directions. Cormac, who’d followed in his own car, pulled up behind us.

  A man stepped out of the small guard house next to the gate as Mr. O lowered his window.

  “Quinn and Lili O’Gara, our children Sean and Molly, and Sovereign Emileia,” he informed the guard, who took a quick step backward, then bowed deeply.

  “We are honored. Please proceed.”

  The huge gates silently swung open and Mr. O drove forward, up a long, white-graveled drive.

  “Wow.” I gazed around at the impressively manicured grounds. “How did they manage all of this so fast?”

  “Nearly half of Jewel’s new Echtrans are from the Agricultural fine,” Mrs. O’Gara replied. “Though they originally acquired the sod and plants from a commercial landscaping company, their abilities allowed them to achieve this effect far more quickly than would have been possible otherwise.”

  “What you see out here is merely cosmetic, of course,” Mr. O added, “though I understand some important agricultural research has already begun in the greenhouses and fields behind the facility.”

  That seemed incredible, considering most of the researchers had arrived less than a week ago. We pulled into the big parking area near the central building, which displayed the same NuAgra logo and slogan I’d seen on the fence.

  “They’ve done a good job making it look legit,” Sean commented as we walked up to the main entrance. “Like any other Duchas R&D facility.”

  Or not. Mr. O stepped up to a small panel just outside the glass doors and placed his palm on it. “No non-Echtran will be allowed inside, for obvious reasons.”

  “Won’t that seem kind of…suspicious?” I asked.

  “Not really,” Mrs. O assured me. “Many companies have stringent security in place to prevent corporate espionage. We’ve made no secret of the fact that some of the research here will be of a sensitive nature, so our protocols should seem perfectly reasonable.”

  Once we’d each had our palms read by the little screen, the glass doors opened as silently as the outer gate had done.

  Stepping through, I had a moment of unpleasant deja vu—the decor, with its soothingly blue walls and soft lighting, was disturbingly reminiscent of the Mind Healing facility on Nuath. The place Rigel’s memory had been erased.

  That familiarity faded when Mr. O led us down a short hallway, around a corner, then into a large room laid out like a lecture hall. Ranks of tables, nearly half of them already full, sloped up from a central podium. I entered near the podium and everyone immediately rose to their feet and bowed, right fists over hearts.

  I made the proper inclination of my head, surreptitiously scanning the big room for Rigel. He’d said he’d be here, but what if—? I spotted him then, along with his parents, among those still filtering in through do
uble doors at the upper end of the room. Brightening, I sent a quick, silent greeting.

  Mom’s shift at the hospital ran a little late, he explained. Glad we made it before things got started.

  The prevailing mood in the room had felt positive when I first entered, but as the Stuarts moved down the center aisle to take the seats reserved for them in the front row, I sensed a distinct change. Focusing first on one, then another, I picked up resentment, distaste, curiosity and, in a few cases, outrage. With an effort I smoothed my instinctive frown, determined not to let my worry show.

  It’s fine, M. They just need time to get used to the idea, that’s all.

  I wasn’t as confident but this was no time to argue. Already, Mr. O’Gara was stepping up to the podium, clearly in his element—which was another unpleasant reminder of my time in Nuath, this time recalling how close I’d come to appointing him Regent before discovering his duplicity about Rigel. He’d earned back some of my trust since then, but not all of it.

  Gazing up at the assembly, he cleared his throat, then waited while the murmuring that had begun at the Stuarts’ entrance subsided. “Fellow Echtrans, I give you Sovereign Emileia.”

  Now cheers broke out, along with a few shouts of Faoda byo Thiarna Emileia! (long live Sovereign Emileia). Mr. O stepped down to join his family and the Stuarts in the front row and I moved to the podium. The earlier negativity I’d sensed had dissipated, which unfortunately only confirmed it had been directed at Rigel.

  “Thank you, everyone, for coming tonight on such short notice,” I began.

  When nervousness briefly threatened, I quickly recalled all the speeches I’d made back on Mars—usually to far less receptive crowds. It helped. Straightening my shoulders, I continued.

  “I’d like to take this opportunity to welcome you all to Jewel, Indiana, and to salute the courage you’ve demonstrated by leaving your homes and all that was familiar for the good of Nuath. Though I know Jewel is not what you’ve been used to, I’m sure in time you will grow to love it as I do.

  “Each of you was specially chosen to come here as representing the most dedicated and trustworthy of our newest arrivals. For myself, I’m deeply honored that so many of you requested to live in the town I call home. 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.

  “The good people of Jewel are understandably curious about NuAgra, and you, so don’t be surprised when your new neighbors begin asking questions. Never forget, however, that it’s imperative you raise no suspicions about our true origins. I understand you’ve each been given complete life histories, which should help to avoid that.

  “Already there is some speculation in Jewel about NuAgra’s hiring plans as well as concern that it could pose unwelcome competition to certain businesses. We’ll need to work together to soothe any resentment or worries along those lines without revealing too much. Going out of your way to be friendly and continuing to patronize local merchants should help the townspeople to realize that NuAgra and its people will be positive additions to their community.

  “I should give those of you attending Jewel High fair warning that our school newspaper plans to do stories on each of you, so be thinking about how you might answer interview questions.”

  The students in the room started exchanging nervous looks so I added, “If you have questions about what to say, I’ll be happy to answer them tonight or tomorrow at school. Or you can ask Sean or Molly O’Gara, or Rigel Stuart.”

  I again sensed quick spurts of hostility from around the big room at the mention of Rigel’s name. That stiffened my resolve to deliver the less conciliating part of my speech, though Rigel had firmly vetoed the part I’d wanted to add about him.

  “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.”

  A couple in the second row shifted uncomfortably in their seats, radiating guilt. The Morains, I guessed, since they were sitting with Kira and Adina. A few scattered others exhibited varying degrees of surprise, resentment and irritation, though I didn’t pause long enough to pinpoint exactly who felt what.

  “I’m sure many of you have questions, so I’d like to invite Mr. and Mrs. O’Gara and Dr. and Mr. Stuart to join me down front to help address them. Again, thank you very much for coming.”

  Before the O’Garas or Stuarts could even leave their seats, several hands went up.

  “Yes?” I pointed to the woman who’d raised her hand first.

  She stood up. “Excellency, is it true that you and Rigel Stuart have actually begun dating again?”

  See? I thought to Rigel, who was still seated. I was afraid of this.

  “Yes, it’s true, though that wasn’t the sort of question I had in mind.”

  Half a dozen more hands shot into the air. I nodded toward a thin, black-haired man.

  “Yes?”

  “Does he really have his memory back? Or was it never actually erased at all?”

  I sighed inwardly. “Yes, he has his memory back, and yes, it really was erased—the last year of it, anyway.”

  “But I thought he promised to stay away from you, for the good of our people,” a woman near the back blurted out without waiting to be called on. “Back on Nuath we were told—”

  “I know what you were told,” I snapped before she could say anything really nasty. “But Rigel Stuart—”

  M! Don’t! Rigel’s urgent thought stopped me in mid-sentence. Don’t say anything we’ll both end up regretting. Please!”

  Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to calm down. He was right that lashing out in anger was likely to do more harm than good.

  “—is not the topic we’re here to discuss,” I finished. “The Council plans to issue another statement soon, addressing that particular situation. Meanwhile, we’ll be happy to address any questions you have about Jewel—the community, ways to get involved locally, that sort of thing.”

  Most of the other hands slowly went down. Apparently their owners had all wanted to ask questions about Rigel and me. I pointed at one of the few who still had a hand up. “Yes?”

  “Will we be able to have any social activities just for…us?” a blonde woman asked. “Or will that look too suspicious?”

  Dr. Stuart took that one, probably realizing I needed more time to compose myself. “As long as it’s presented as a NuAgra function, something like that should be fine,” she said with a smile. “But if Jewel is to be our permanent home, we mustn’t limit all of our socializing to other Echtrans. As the Sovereign said, it’s important that we be seen as contributing members of this community. We mustn’t appear stand-offish, or the townspeople might assume we consider ourselves better than they are.”

  A nervous chuckle went through the room.

  “Yes, I know that in many ways we are superior,” she continued. “But if we make our neighbors feel inferior, they’re bound to resent that. Wouldn’t you?”

  There was some shrugging and nodding. At least some of them seemed to get it.

  “More questions?” Mr. O’Gara asked then. “Yes?”

  “Will we have a secure way to send messages to our friends and family back in Nuath any time soon?”

  Mr. Stuart fielded that one, describing the system he was already putting in place for exactly that purpose. Now sticking to more appropriate topics, the Q&A went on for another hour before Mr. O finally called 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.”

  Stepping back up to the podium, I said, “I hope to have more forums like this going forward. Perhaps monthly, if that proves convenient. Once more, thank you all for coming. Good night.”

  The moment I stepped down, several dozen people surged forward, clearly eager to speak privately with me. The first to reach me were the Morains, who both bowed deeply. I now vaguely remembered meeting the tall, red-haired man and willowy blonde woman before—either on Nuath or when making my last-minute stops at the few Echtran compounds in the U.S. before returning to Jewel last month.

  “Excellency, please allow us to apologize!” the woman exclaimed, radiating distress as she straightened. “You were right, of course, that inviting you to dinner through your uncle was inappropriate. But when Mona and Brad came up while we—”

  She broke off, looking stricken. “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 turned to her daughters who were hanging back—Kira with a slightly disgusted look on her face, probably because of the way her mother was abasing herself to me. I couldn’t blame her.

  “Yes, I remember you, Deirdra. Didn’t you tell me in Dun Cloch you’d been acquainted with my mother? And I met Kira and Adina at school this morning,” I added before she could drag them forward. “It’s all right, really. You hadn’t been warned yet.”

  “Still, we should have known better,” Aidan said, looking nearly as abashed as his wife. He reminded me slightly of Mr. O, who now stepped forward.

  Extending his hand, he said, “Quinn O’Gara. Please, don’t worry about this. As you’ll learn, our Sovereign rarely stands on ceremony. We will likely discover other areas that should have been addressed in advance of everyone’s arrival, but no one will be held responsible for acting in ignorance.”

  “Thank you. Thank you both!” With another deep bow, the Morain family moved off.