Starfall: A Starstruck Novel

by Hiatt, Brenda

  “No, go on. I’ll see you later. Probably tomorrow.” I kept my voice steady by sheer force of will.

  Sean watched me for several more heartbeats, then gave a little shrug. “Okay. Call if…if you need anything?”

  I nodded, not quite meeting his concerned gaze, and he finally followed his father from the apartment.

  Molly lingered, her brow still furrowed with sympathy. “Can I do anything else for you, M?”

  “No. But thanks.” She was the only one in her family who’d ever been at all sympathetic to Rigel and me as a couple, but right now I desperately wanted to be alone with my heartbreak.

  Once she was gone and my bedroom door shut, I dragged myself to a sitting position against my pillows and switched on the vidscreen, the volume low enough it wouldn’t be heard from the other room. Even knowing what it would do to me, I felt a compulsion to replay that awful final message from Rigel. Maybe I’d missed some loophole, some shred of hope…

  “I’ve decided to go back to Earth immediately,” he told me again in that terrible, emotionless voice. “You need to be with Sean now, for the good of Nuath. But because it will hurt too much to see you two together from now on, I’ve asked to have the last year of my memory erased before I go. I know I’m taking the coward’s way out, and I’m sorry for that, M, and sorry I can’t tell you a proper goodbye. I hope in time you’ll be able to get over me and be happy with Sean. He’s not a bad guy, you know, even if I haven’t always been his biggest fan.

  “By the time you get this message, the procedure will already be done, and I’ll already be on board the Luminosity. I’m bringing along a letter for my parents explaining what I’ve done and suggesting we move away from Jewel, so please don’t try to come after me. Your focus right now needs to be on keeping Nuath safe, both from this immediate threat and into the future. Please do your best to stay safe and to be happy. Goodbye, M.”

  Destroyed all over again, I curled myself into a tight ball of misery and let the tears come.

  2

  Reserve capacity

  My crying jag eventually exhausted me enough to fall into a fitful sleep filled with nightmares—but every time I jerked awake, it was to a reality even worse than the awful dream that woke me. Then I’d swing wildly between desperate determination to ignore Rigel’s request and go after him, make him remember, and such despair that I again cried myself to sleep. When I finally dragged myself into the shower hours after daybreak, I felt like I’d been run over by a truck.

  Sean came for breakfast, again cajoling more food into me than I really wanted, then he and Molly spent the next few hours trying to draw me out of myself, inch by painful inch. While I appreciated that they cared, their very sympathy, which I sensed all too clearly, was a constant reminder of my loss.

  By the time their father joined us for lunch, I’d reached a fragile equilibrium between dissolving into tears and a detached numbness where nothing mattered at all. Even so, Mr O’Gara’s smile when he greeted me was jarring.

  “You’ll be pleased to know I’ve spoken again at length with both Nels Murdoch and Devyn Kane and we’ve agreed that until we know more, we should proceed normally.”

  I hadn’t progressed far enough to smile back. “So Nels isn’t still calling for the colony’s immediate evacuation?”

  “Devyn and I were able to calm him somewhat. We also pointed out the logistical impossibility of such a thing, which he was forced to acknowledge.”

  Molly paused in the act of setting out food from my recombinator. “Why is it impossible?”

  “Simple mathematics,” her father replied. “Think. We have but four ships, all built along the same lines as the Quintessence. Even by cramming passengers in to the point of discomfort, each has a capacity of perhaps two hundred. An average round trip between Mars and Earth is ten days, allowing for repairs, refueling and restocking of supplies, which allows a maximum of twelve round trips per ship in a typical four-month launch window. Only three months remain in the current one.”

  Grasping at the distraction, I did some quick mental calculations. “So we can only get ten thousand people from here to Earth during a full launch window? At that rate, it would take more than fifty years to get everyone off Mars. Shouldn’t we have already started, Grentl or not? According to Shim, our power will only last another century or so.”

  “Indeed.” Mr. O waited for me to sit, then took his own seat at the table. “Unfortunately, that project was still in the planning stages when Faxon seized power. So many were in denial, even in the Legislature, that more resources were devoted to research on extending the colony’s power supply than to implementing a measured emigration.”

  “So how did Faxon plan to invade Earth with only four ships?” Sean asked.

  “He conscripted Engineers, Metalworkers and Mining resources to build more ships. None are yet complete but it’s possible his efforts may allow us to speed up emigration in a decade or so. Meanwhile, we must look to the current welfare of Nuath and its people by putting a proper government in place. It’s what I’d originally hoped to do upon my return here.”

  Before he’d known about the Grentl, in other words. A matter he now seemed eager to dismiss. Between bites, Mr. O read aloud from his omni screen, listing the dinners, meetings and audiences he’d lined up for me over the next week or two. It was every bit as packed a schedule as when he’d managed my campaign to be Acclaimed Sovereign. Just listening to it made me tired.

  “Of course, once you designate a Regent, much of this sort of thing can be delegated to him. Or her. We can’t have our new Sovereign working herself into poor health—though perhaps just now it’s good you’ll have so much to occupy you.”

  The implication made my heart hurt.

  After lunch, Mr. O switched on the big vidscreen to see the latest news. The top stories were still mainly about my recent Acclamation and Installation—nothing to hold my interest. I was starting to retreat into misery again when a news story came on about potential Regents. They displayed a long list, nearly a hundred names, each with a favorability rating. Some I recognized from my studies or my campaign for Acclamation, but many were unknown to me.

  The names of the four Royals on the Echtran Council were listed, and those who’d been on the Quintessence with us—including Quinn O’Gara, with a favorability rating of 76, second only to Devyn Kane’s.

  “Hey, good showing, Dad,” Sean exclaimed, grinning.

  I turned to Mr. O in surprise. “You’re in the running for Regent? I didn’t know that.”

  “Technically no one is running. It will be your prerogative to name any qualified person you choose—that is, any Royal of the requisite age and experience who has lived on Mars. In other words, anyone from this list.”

  “You’re a really popular choice, Dad.” Molly sounded impressed and proud, but Mr. O shrugged.

  “Perhaps, but I would never presume on my acquaintance with the Sovereign to put myself forward when she’s met so few of the other candidates. Many will be attending tonight’s reception and dinner, including those who arrived last week aboard the Luminosity.”

  I flinched at the name of the ship Rigel had taken back to Earth. Without me.

  Mr. O didn’t seem to notice. “More will be returning over the next month or two, though many are sending video presentations ahead for your consideration. I recommend you begin reviewing those as soon as possible.”

  I supposed he was right. The sooner I named a Regent, the sooner I could go back to Earth. “Would you want to be Regent?” I asked curiously. That would make my choice pretty easy.

  He shrugged again but I sensed he wasn’t nearly as indifferent as he pretended. “I’m flattered you would ask. Of course, there would be a fair number of details to work out.”

  “Like Mum.” Sean was clearly startled that his dad would even consider such a thing. “She’s stuck on Earth as part of that Echtran Council isn’t she?”

  “Oh, I hadn’t thought of that,” I admitt
ed. “I guess my Regent will have to stay on Mars, especially since we all need to get back to Earth before anybody realizes we aren’t still in Ireland.” My heart lifted slightly. Maybe I couldn’t hunt Rigel down and make him remember me, but at least on Earth we’d both be seeing the same stars. And someday maybe, just maybe…

  Mr. O raised an eyebrow, almost like he guessed my thought. “Surely you realize, Excellency, that there will be strong resistance to you leaving Nuath, even with a Regent in place?”

  “What?”

  Sean and Molly gaped at their father, too, but he took no notice.

  “Did the Council not talk to you about that?”

  “About me never coming back? No! I even asked them about it point-blank and Malcolm admitted it would raise lots of questions on Earth if I didn’t return. If they’d even hinted I’d have to stay on Mars, I never would have come at all. Especially—”

  Especially without Rigel. Even if I never saw him again, I positively recoiled at the idea of us being stuck on different planets—permanently.

  “You must realize how important it is, during this sensitive rebuilding time, that Nuath’s Sovereign remain available to shepherd the necessary changes through to completion.” Mr. O’Gara spoke calmly, persuasively. “Not to mention the situation with the Grentl.”

  I shook my head vigorously. “No. I have to go back! What if my aunt and uncle demand a search for me? A bunch of stuff could come out about Bailerealta and Echtrans and, well, everything!”

  “They won’t demand a search if they have reason to believe there’s no point to such a thing.”

  I stared at him, a whole new horror creeping in. “You mean if they think I’m…dead?”

  His apologetic expression was answer enough.

  “Really? You’d do that to my aunt and uncle? To my friends?” I wanted to believe Aunt Theresa and Uncle Louie would be upset if they thought I’d died. Bri and Deb would, for sure. The thought of never seeing any of them again was beyond awful, totally apart from being so far away from Rigel.

  “Wow, that’s pretty harsh, Dad.” Sean exchanged a worried glance with Molly, who nodded.

  “No harsher than the situation warrants. I’ve discussed the matter with Devyn and Nels, as well as the Echtran Council. We feel that the risk to Nuath of your leaving is great enough to outweigh all other concerns. Matters on Earth can be handled so as to minimize the risk of discovery. Echtrans, of course, would be informed via MARSTAR that the story of your death is false, to forestall any panic there.”

  “But…wouldn’t that mean I can’t ever go back?”

  “Not as Marsha Truitt. But that was never your true identity, Sovereign Emileia.”

  I groped for another argument, one that might sway him. “Wouldn’t Sean have to stay here, too? And Molly, since she’s my Handmaid? I can’t believe Mrs. O’Gara is okay with that, when she has to be on Earth because of the Council.”

  “Lili and I have messaged back and forth a good deal over the past day or two. She agrees that, particularly if I accept any office of importance under your Sovereignty, it would make the most sense for her to step down from the Council and join us here. In fact, she has already looked into booking passage once she arranges to pack up our belongings in Jewel and tell everyone there that we’ve decided to move back to Ireland.”

  I felt slightly dazed. Apparently they’d worked out every single detail—without even consulting me!

  “You can’t do this! I’m the Sovereign.” Tears of frustration threatened, making my voice quiver. “If I decide to go back to Earth, who’s going to stop me?”

  “It would not be hard to convince any ship captain that transporting you away from Nuath right now would amount to an act of treason. You’d be asking someone like Captain Liam to choose between a direct order from you and the good of his people.”

  My threatening tears spilled over as I realized, appalled, that he was probably right.

  His voice became gentle again. “Tell me, were you really so happy in Jewel? I had the impression you’d been eager to escape it most of your life.”

  I immediately opened my mouth to deny that, then closed it again. Because it was true—or had been until Rigel arrived. Apart from my friendship with Bri and Deb, my life in Jewel before Rigel had been pretty dismal: barely tolerated by my aunt, picked on by half the school, ignored by the rest. I had wanted to escape, had worked hard in my classes in hopes of winning a scholarship that would take me far away from Jewel and Indiana.

  “That’s different,” I finally said. “That would have been my choice. This isn’t.” Especially since staying on Mars for good—or even for the next few decades—meant I’d never have any chance of seeing Rigel again, even from a distance.

  “I truly am sorry, Excellency.” Mr. O’Gara managed to sound like he meant it. “It was never my wish to deceive you in any way. I’d hoped by now that you cared enough about Nuath’s people and their future to put them ahead of mere personal concerns.” He rose. “I suggest you get some more rest. When you’ve had time to think things through, I’m confident you will agree this way is best.”

  Refusing to soften, I glared after him as he left, then immediately rounded on Sean and Molly. “Did you know, either of you? That they planned for me to never go back?”

  “Of course not.” Sean was emphatic.

  Molly shook her head as well. “Mum and Dad told us exactly what they told you. We assumed we’d all go back during this same launch window.”

  “Do you think they’re right, though? That it would be some kind of disaster for me to leave?”

  I could sense Sean’s sudden conflict. “Well…there is the Grentl thing. What if they call again or need to be convinced not to attack or something? You’re the only one who can talk to them. Plus there’s all that government stuff Dad talked about.” His expression was apologetic. “They totally should have told you all this upfront, though.”

  Though Molly voiced her agreement with that last bit, it was obvious neither of them were nearly as upset as I was by the thought of staying on Mars. Which made sense, as they’d always thought of Nuath as their home. But it wasn’t mine. Even if I had wanted to escape from Jewel most of my life, I could never regard this fake underground habitat as “home.”

  Sure, I’d agreed to come here and be Acclaimed Sovereign to save Nuath from being destroyed, but the only part I’d looked forward to was using my authority so I could be with Rigel for good. Now… Now I had nothing to look forward to.

  Still, much as I hated to admit it, Mr. O was right. I couldn’t just turn my back on Nuath and its people. Like it or not, I was Sovereign now, and the responsibilities that went with that were here, not back in Jewel. Responsibilities like figuring out what the Grentl’s message really meant, and choosing a Regent, and doing what I could to get the Nuathan government up and running.

  Things that might, possibly, keep me from dwelling on the fact that by tomorrow Rigel would be back on Earth, with no memory of me or all we’d been to each other. It was too late to change that. But maybe a new sense of purpose would help me to hold myself together until my pain faded…even if it took years.

  * * *

  As Molly dressed me in yet another gorgeous gown that evening, this one of flowing amethyst studded with actual amethysts, I tried to block out her depressingly obvious sympathy by thinking about the evening ahead.

  “There!” Molly stepped back. “What do you think?”

  I faced the mirror, prepared to gush so I wouldn’t hurt her feelings, but the sight of myself so amazingly decked out startled me to silence. This shade of purple was perfect with my coloring, somehow enhancing the dark green of my eyes. And the amethyst tiara set off my golden-brown hair beautifully, brightening the highlights I hadn’t had a year ago.

  Highlights I had now because of my bond with Rigel.

  “Molly, you’re a magician.” I put as much enthusiasm into my voice as my suddenly-constricted throat allowed.

  “Your
wardrobe makes it pretty easy. I’d better change, too.” Molly had her own beautiful Chomseireach (Handmaid) wardrobe, and soon she was arrayed in an embroidered pale blue tunic with darker blue leggings. Not nearly as ornate as my getup but every bit as pretty—and a lot more practical.

  Sean and his father arrived a moment later, both resplendent in shimmery tunics, shorter than Molly’s, over form-fitting leggings. Sean looked handsomer than I’d ever seen him, the deep blue of his tunic the same color as his eyes. I tried—hard—not to remember how incredible Rigel had looked in his Bodyguard uniform during his too-brief stint in that role.

  “Already there has been media speculation about the fact you haven’t been seen for more than two days, so tonight you must do your best to appear as, ah, normal and competent as possible,” Mr. O said as we left my apartments.

  Normal? I wasn’t sure what normal was, without Rigel. This empty, dead feeling? “I’ll do my best.” It was all I could promise.

  Mr. O regarded me narrowly for a moment. “Please do. Perhaps we should brush up on a few policy issues in case they arise in conversation.”

  He began drilling me on the same questions we’d practiced before my Acclamation and was clearly relieved when I was still able to reel off the answers. I, however, was painfully aware of the ones he didn’t ask—because my relationship with Rigel was a moot point now.

  When we reached the main state dining room, I was irresistibly reminded of the last time I’d eaten there, my very first day at the Palace. I’d been excited, distracted, looking forward to Rigel’s imminent arrival…which had never happened. Swallowing, I squared my shoulders. I’d promised Mr. O I’d do my best, and I would. Even if it killed me.

  For the first hour, drinks and appetizers were served by Palace staffers as the guests milled around, schmoozing about politics. I did my best to be pleasant and regal, matching faces and names as I evaluated each one as a possible Regent. None of them impressed me much. By the time the bell rang for dinner, Mr. O’Gara still seemed my most viable option—which made me realize (duh!) that must be the “office of importance” he’d meant earlier. No wonder Mrs. O was willing to resign from the Council and relocate to Mars.