Starcrossed

by Brenda Hiatt

  “Once Faxon’s finally overthrown, which he will be,” Sean said confidently, “Thiaraway can be restored to what it used to be. Echtrans who want to can go home, and research on extending Nuath’s habitability can resume. So much important work has stopped under Faxon. And so many people have had their lives ruined—or worse.”

  “Once he is overthrown, he’ll be . . . punished, right?” I’d almost said “executed,” but recalled what Shim had once told me about Mars’ alternative to a death penalty. “They’ll do that . . . that memory wipe thing?”

  Sean nodded. “Yeah, the Scriosath, um, tabula rasa. Blank slate. That’s the complete wipe, as opposed to the short term ones they use for lesser crimes. It hasn’t been used in like a century, but if anyone deserves it, Faxon does.” He gave a little huff. “Sorry. I get a little wound up about this stuff.”

  “No, it’s okay,” I said. “I get why. And I agree.”

  He smiled, but it was a serious sort of smile. “I’m glad. Because you really are our best hope for putting things right. I know it seems scary right now, but there are tons of people who’ll help you. Once the government is reestablished, you can even live in that palace again. If you want to.”

  Such a weird thought! But . . . if not for Faxon, I’d have grown up in that beautiful pink diamond structure. In fact, I probably never would have come to Earth at all.

  Or met Rigel.

  “I really appreciate you showing me this stuff, but can we talk about something else for a minute?”

  “Sure.” Sean switched off the hologram and the living room reappeared.

  I was startled by a pang of loss when the palace disappeared, but I didn’t let it sidetrack me. “Earlier today, Molly and I had a talk. Did she tell you?”

  “I tried to.” Molly frowned at her brother. “He wasn’t big on the listening.”

  Sean stood and ran a hand through his hair, making it stand on end with a comical look he clearly didn’t intend. “Look, I said I was sorry about Wednesday. I know you think you and Stuart have a graell thing going on. And . . . I guess he actually believes it, too.”

  “Because it’s true,” I insisted. “Molly believes me now, don’t you, Molly?”

  Molly looked uncomfortable, but she nodded. “If everything M told me today is true, I think they really do have the bond, Sean. I’m sorry.”

  Sorry? “Why—?” I started to ask, but Sean shook his head almost fiercely.

  “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, M, but I just can’t buy it, no matter what symptoms or whatever you think you’ve had. I . . . I know how easy it can be for people to convince themselves of stuff they want to believe. Did you tell her about Penny?” he asked Molly.

  “Um, no. But you never told me the whole story, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah. I forgot you were only thirteen. Well, Penny was the twin sister of a good friend of mine, back on Mars. A twilly named Godrick convinced her they were graell bonded, even though they were barely sixteen, and nobody could talk her out of it. She pretended to feel all kinds of vibes off him, claimed he’d even changed her eye color, though nobody else could see it. When she found out he was laughing about it to other guys, bragging how he’d . . . Well, she came unglued, actually tried to kill herself. Last I heard, she was still under a Mind Healer’s care and pretty messed up.”

  Even though it was obvious what he was implying, I couldn’t help saying, “That’s terrible! What did they do to that Godrick jerk?”

  “Nothing . . . officially.” Sean’s fists clenched, reminding me of his confrontation with Rigel two days ago. “He denied everything and his buddies backed him up, even though a lot of people knew the real story. By then Penny was acting so crazy, her word wasn’t worth much as evidence. But her brother and I made sure he regretted what he’d done.” He smiled grimly.

  I sucked in a breath. “Sean, I’m really sorry that happened to your friend, but I promise you that’s not what’s going on with Rigel and me.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe not. But . . . you’re the Sovereign, M. Even if it was somehow possible, it still wouldn’t . . . I mean, they’d never allow . . . Look, can we not talk about it any more right now? If we do, I’m . . . afraid I’ll say something that’ll get you mad at me all over again.”

  I’d been about to remind him of the lightning thing, which was what had convinced Molly, but he looked so uncomfortable I stopped myself. “Okay, I guess I sort of understand. But none of this is Rigel’s fault, even if it makes you feel better to think it is.”

  Sean sighed heavily. “I’ll try to remember that. And I really am sorry I came down so hard on him before. It just seems so . . . presumptuous, the way he is with you, touching you without asking and stuff. I know he didn’t grow up on Mars so he doesn’t have our same ingrained reaction to who you are, but—” He broke off and took a steadying breath. “So . . . more pictures?”

  Though I really wanted to finish convincing Sean about the graell, I decided not to push it right now. I could try again later. And soon I was completely distracted by more holograms of Nuath: the area around Glenamuir, classrooms, hydroponic gardens, orchards, and all the people Sean and Molly had known there.

  Around nine, their parents came in, Mrs. O’Gara bearing a tray of herbal tea and adorable little lemon biscuits. While I nibbled, they told me how life had gradually changed after Faxon came into power, how he had dissolved the government by degrees until he was the sole authority.

  “So, before that, there were two legislative houses, right?” I asked, glancing at Sean.

  “Right,” he said. “The Royal House, sort of like the Senate here, or maybe more like the House of Lords over in England, and the Eodain. Similar to the House of Commons, whose members are popularly elected.”

  “The People’s House,” Mrs. O’Gara clarified. “That’s the closest English translation, I suppose, though it’s primarily elected from among the Royal and Science fines. Each house had a mix of conservative and progressive members, though historically the Royal House has been the most conservative and the Eodain primarily progressive.”

  Mr. O’Gara took up the explanation. “Of course, the old government is in shambles after Faxon’s depredations—assassinations and arrests, with most others in hiding or here on Earth. Even after he’s overthrown, it won’t be an easy task to rebuild it. I wish—”

  “I know, dear.” His wife patted his arm soothingly. “We’ll go back as soon as we possibly can.”

  They spent the next half hour telling me more about how the Nuathan government was structured, with ministries for bizarre things like Terran Obfuscation (a whole branch devoted to keeping Earth from finding out about the colony), Gravity/Antigravity, Water Reclamation, Hydroponics and Animal Husbandry.

  “Agriculture is still pretty big there,” Sean explained when I looked surprised at the last two. “Though the Sciences have overtaken Ags and Husbandry as the biggest fines. Um, has anyone explained to you about fines yet?”

  I nodded, shifting uncomfortably. “Molly did. Sort of like genetically predetermined career paths and clans and a social hierarchy all in one.” And self-enforced gene pools, though I didn’t say that.

  Mrs. O’Gara chuckled. “That’s rather a clever way to put it, dear, and not far off the mark.”

  I was grateful that they never once, during the whole conversation, put any pressure on me, never made me feel like they expected me to do anything, the way Allister Adair did. Still, I couldn’t help suspecting the reason they were telling me all this was so I’d sympathize more with their cause. So I’d want to do something eventually.

  Worse, I was worried that it might be working.

  CHAPTER 15

  Cinnwund Rioga (KIN-wund ree-OH-gah): Royal Destiny

  I tried to hurry through my chores Saturday, hoping I might be able to get to Rigel’s party a little early. Already our walk—and makeout session—the day before yesterday seemed forever ago.

  But Aunt Theresa kept thinking of more and more th
ings for me to do. At least my taekwondo class in the middle of the day gave me a chance to swing by Glitterby’s on the way home, to pick up the present I’d had made for Rigel’s birthday. I thought it was gorgeous, but worried he might think it was too girly.

  Talking so much about the graell yesterday made me even more aware of how “off” I felt when Rigel and I were apart. By late afternoon, I was positively antsy to see him again.

  Finally I finished mulching the roses, my last chore. I showered, put on the outfit I’d carefully selected—a top in shades of green that Rigel had once said he liked and dark khaki slacks—and primped until I felt ready. Anticipating Rigel’s smile when he saw me, I practically skipped down the stairs.

  “Can you take me over to Rigel’s now?” I asked Uncle Louie, who’d gotten home from the car lot a little while ago.

  “Oh, your friend Brianna called while you were in the shower,” Aunt Theresa informed me, coming out of the kitchen. “Her father offered to pick you up, so they’ll be here in about half an hour.”

  I tried not to let my irritation show. “Oh. Okay. Thanks.” So much for getting a few minutes of private time with Rigel. Knowing Bri, it would be more like an hour before they got here, so the party would be well underway. I went back upstairs a lot more slowly than I’d come down, to pass the time with homework.

  “Allister probably wouldn’t have let us be alone for more than two seconds anyway,” I mumbled to myself. Not that it was much comfort.

  Sure enough, a solid fifty minutes passed before I finally heard the doorbell. I grabbed Rigel’s present and raced downstairs, reaching the door just as Aunt Theresa opened it.

  “Ready?” Bri asked.

  “Duh. Let’s go,” I said, hurrying to the car ahead of her.

  She laughed as she followed me. “You’ve still got it bad, don’t you? You just saw him yesterday, you know.”

  I just slid into the back seat next to Deb. “Hey, Deb. Thanks, Mr. Morrison.” Thanks for making me so late, I added silently.

  When we arrived, the long driveway leading to the yellow farmhouse was already lined with cars, a couple dozen, at least. Definitely no alone time with Rigel tonight.

  “Huh. Somehow I thought their house would be fancier,” Bri said as we headed up the front walk.

  “Why? He told you it was just a big old farmhouse. They’ve fixed it up, though.” Including a few “special” renovations, but of course those were well camouflaged.

  “Do you realize this is the first party Rigel’s ever had?” Bri commented. “Almost every other guy on the team has had at least one since the start of the year.”

  Since Rigel and I had been together, Bri and Deb had gone out with a few football players and Bri, especially, had been going to a lot of parties. The one or two times I’d mentioned it, she’d shut me down immediately, which worried me a little.

  “What are you giving Rigel for his birthday?” Deb asked, distracting me. “I hope he’ll like the Jewel Jaguars football mug I got him.”

  “How could he not?” I rang the doorbell rather than answer her question, worrying again my present was stupid.

  But then Rigel opened the door and my jitters disappeared. “Hey, M.” His smile was the one he reserved just for me. For a long moment we were lost in each other’s eyes, but then he remembered his manners. “Hey, Bri, Deb. Glad you could come.” He opened the door wide for all of us to enter.

  As the others went past him into the house, he touched my arm and murmured, “I should warn you, some friends of my parents came and I don’t think they’re really here because it’s my birthday.”

  I cringed. “You mean . . . because of me?”

  He nodded, but then gave me a quick kiss that drove every other thought from my head—for a moment. I followed him into the house, trying to be upset that he knew so well how to distract me. Because even though I now understood better how most Echtrans felt, it was not okay if virtual strangers had come to gawk at me. Today was Rigel’s big day, not mine.

  But we hadn’t taken three steps before Rigel’s dad came up with three strangers in tow, two women and a man. “Ah, here you are, M,” he greeted me. “Some friends of ours would like to meet you.”

  “Hello.” I tried to hide my discomfort, glad Rigel was still beside me.

  The three exchanged glances with each other and one of the women actually giggled. Finally, the man spoke. “So very, very pleased to make your acquaintance, your—“ He broke off when Mr. Stuart frowned and shook his head. “That is, um, I’m Girard Neeson. Allow me to present my wife, Brenna, and her sister, Doreen Gilley. We’ve known Rigel and his family since . . . well, for years.”

  Sixty years? Seventy? Just as well he hadn’t said, since several of our classmates were within earshot.

  “Marsha Truitt,” I said, extending my hand to each of them in turn. I felt the usual faint tingle from each of them, nothing like what I got from Rigel, or even Sean.

  They were all very attractive, of course, and looked to be in their early thirties, though they could be a hundred, for all I knew. Somehow, given that giggle, I doubted it.

  “Marsha?” Doreen—the giggler—echoed. “Is that—?”

  “My friends call me M for short.” Hadn’t the fact that I’d been raised under another name circulated along with the news of my existence?

  “How very . . . informal.” Girard looked faintly scandalized. “We won’t keep you. I’m sure there are others, ah, that is, it’s been an honor, er—“

  “It was nice meeting you,” I said firmly before he could add anything that would be difficult to explain if overheard. With another carefully polite smile, I turned away to find Rigel hovering, ready to whisk me into the living room, where most of the guests were.

  “Thanks,” I murmured. He squeezed my arm in response and the awkwardness of the moment faded at the simple pleasure of his touch.

  A moment later we were surrounded by friends from school, including the whole football team except, not surprisingly, Bryce Farmer. He had already resented Rigel for taking over Bryce’s quarterback spot, but after Rigel and I accidentally zapped him senseless—something he totally deserved, by the way—he and Rigel barely tolerated each other.

  Kind of like me and Trina who, unfortunately, was here, along with most of the cheerleading squad, though I didn’t see Molly. Or Sean. Did they maybe think it would be awkward to come, after Wednesday’s incident? If Sean could just bring himself to apologize to Rigel . . . but I wasn’t sure he was up for that.

  Allister didn’t seem to here either, though I assumed Rigel would have told me if he’d left town.

  “Oh, hi, Marsha,” Trina greeted me with a syrupy, insincere smile. “You made it. Not quite a perfect party after all, but one can’t have everything.” Then, to Rigel, with a more genuine—though still syrupy—smile, “I just love your house, Rigel! It’s like it was made to entertain. You so need to have more parties.”

  “I’ll mention it to my parents,” he said, then immediately turned to talk to a couple of football buddies, leaving Trina pouting. The past week or two she’d mostly flirted with Sean, but in his absence she’d been willing to revert to Rigel.

  Between Allister’s absence and the Stuarts keeping the Neesons away from me, I was able to relax and enjoy myself for most of the evening—until Rigel started opening presents. He saved mine for last, and I held my breath as he unwrapped it. Would he laugh?

  “Wow, M, this is really special,” he said, gazing at the crystal sun catcher etched with the constellation Orion. “Thank you so much.” He leaned over and gave me a quick kiss.

  His mother—who always looked way too gorgeous to be somebody’s mom—came forward. I half expected her to frown about the kiss, but she was smiling as she examined the ornament. “Look, Rigel is blue, so it stands out.” She pointed at Orion’s left foot—the star Rigel. “What a thoughtful gift.”

  I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was still holding. Maybe it hadn’t been a dumb i
dea after all.

  People started to drift back to the buffet table and Rigel threw an arm around my shoulders. “Why were you worried?” he whispered. “You should have known I’d love it. I’m going to hang it right over my bed, where the morning sun will catch it. Then I’ll wake up every morning thinking of you—though I do that anyway.”

  A wonderful rush of warmth went through me, partly from his words and partly from the love I could feel radiating from him. I knew he could feel the same from me. Everything was going to be fine. I was sure of it.

  By nine-thirty, people started to leave. I knew some of them—especially the cheerleaders and most of the football players—were going to a later party at Nicole Adams’s house. From ten feet away, I could clearly hear Bri and Deb whispering, discussing whether they could convince Bri’s dad they were getting a ride home from another parent and really go to Nicole’s party. The only problem with that plan, apparently, was me.

  “You know she won’t go,” I overheard Bri say. “Even if her aunt would let her stay out that late, she never goes anywhere without Rigel.”

  Sometimes my enhanced senses weren’t exactly a benefit. I turned away so Bri wouldn’t notice my hurt—just in time to see Allister Adair enter the room, followed by all of the O’Garas.

  “Sorry to be so late,” Allister said smoothly to Shim, who had stayed mostly in the background during the party, tag-teaming with Mr. Stuart to keep the Neesons away from me. “I hope you saved us some birthday cake?”

  “Of course,” Shim said, just as smoothly. “It’s good to see you again, Quinn, Lili.” He gave a little half-bow to the O’Garas, then nodded to Sean and Molly as well.

  I quickly scanned the room and saw Rigel talking to Matt Mullins near the buffet table. He clearly hadn’t seen the O’Garas yet so I hurried over to join him. Even though Sean had apologized—to me, anyway—I wanted to be ready to intervene if necessary.