Starfall: A Starstruck Novel

by Hiatt, Brenda

  I wouldn’t know until I could figure out how the darned things worked. Setting down the purple stone, I covered the pink one on the scepter with my hand, since that seemed to open all the genetically coded locks. Nothing happened.

  Keeping my hand on the stone, I experimentally said, “Activate?”

  Nothing.

  “Open?”

  Nothing.

  “Access Archive.”

  Nothing. Hm.

  Plucking my electronic scroll-book off my nightstand, I flipped it flat and called up my English-Nuathan dictionary. Picking up the Scepter again, I tried various combinations of Nuathan words while touching the pink stone.

  “Gnomhachtaigh!”

  Nothing.

  “Farsaing! Farsaing chartlann!”

  Nothing. Maybe it wasn’t even a verbal command at all?

  “Chartlann rochtana?” I tried without much hope and suddenly the whole Scepter vibrated. Then, emanating from the pink crystal orb at the top, a hologram of a man appeared in front of me—a man I recognized from textbook pictures as Sovereign Leontine. My grandfather.

  4

  Random access memory

  “Oh!” I breathed, gazing wide-eyed at the perfectly lifelike image now standing before me.

  At my faint sound, the incredibly real-seeming Leontine turned toward me, like he was actually looking at me. “New Sovereign?”

  “Yes?” I had no clue what the protocol was for something like this.

  “You are alone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Name and lineage please, for integration purposes.”

  “Um, Emileia. Daughter of Mikal and Galena.”

  There was a brief pause, then the image of my grandfather smiled. “Emileia. My granddaughter. All grown up now?”

  “Uh, sort of. I’m sixteen.”

  He frowned at me. “My son, Mikal. I find no record of him in the Archive. Why is that?”

  “I’m sorry, sir. I was told he never became Sovereign. He and my mother escaped to Earth—with me—when Faxon took power, but they were both killed there. Murdered by Faxon’s people. I was only Acclaimed a few days ago.”

  “I see. You came to Mars from Earth?”

  “Yes, just three weeks ago. And I just this minute figured out how to access this Archive. The pink stone in the Scepter is an Archive, right?”

  He nodded gravely. “It is. Normally you would have been shown how to access it by your predecessor. But as that predecessor seems to have been me, it appears I never had that opportunity. The first thing I would have told you is to guard the contents of this Archive carefully. Its very existence is known only to Sovereigns, their Consorts, and occasionally one or two of their most trusted advisors. The Sovereigns have felt it wisest for that to remain the case.”

  “Oh. Okay. I’ll, uh, keep it as secret as I can.” Good thing I hadn’t shared my theory about the Scepter with anyone yet.

  Leontine’s expression was kindly but serious. “How old were you when your parents were killed, Emileia?”

  “Less than two years old. Earth years, that is.” Though Nuath now used the Earth calendar and had its clocks synched with Ireland’s, I didn’t know if it had always been that way.

  “I am sorry.” He actually sounded—and looked—it. But how could that be, if he was a recording?

  Rather than wonder, I asked. “How…does this work, exactly? I mean, no offense, but you’ve been dead for more than fifteen years. How can I be talking to you now?”

  “This Archive holds the stored images and recorded experiences of all previous Sovereigns from the time of its creation by Arturo, son of Tiernan, to the present. During my grandfather, Sovereign Nuallen’s, time, we developed the technology to store personality profiles as well, allowing a more authentic interaction with any more recent Sovereigns you may choose to access for information or advice. When integrated with the Scepter, the Archive is capable of virtual intelligence. Learning, if you will.”

  “You mean I can just ask questions? And you—or other, older Sovereigns—will just…answer me?”

  He smiled again. “Precisely. It can be an extremely valuable resource.”

  No kidding! I’d been wondering who I could trust enough to put on my Advisory Council, when I had the best Advisory Council possible right here in my hand! For the first time since getting Rigel’s terrible message, real excitement bubbled up inside me.

  “You will be expected to store your own experiences in the Archive for your eventual successors as well,” my grandfather continued. “It is how we have ensured continuity of purpose and knowledge down the centuries.”

  Okay, that creeped me out a little, thinking of storing myself in this thing for any kids or grandkids I might have way in the future. But that was the least of my worries right now, when I’d been given this incredible gift.

  “I understand. I think. I mean, I assume there are instructions or something for that?”

  “You need only ask. Meanwhile, as you were clearly not trained at the Palace during your youth and lost your father at such an early age, there must be much you need to know.”

  I nodded eagerly. “So much! Like, pretty much everything! I don’t even know where to start. No, wait, yes I do,” I corrected myself. “Please, sir, I need to know everything you can tell me about the Grentl.”

  For the first time, Sovereign Leontine frowned at me. “All information on that topic has been stored separately, for security reasons. I’m afraid you will not be able to access it via this Archive.”

  “Oh, that’s okay. I have the other one here.” I held up the purple stone. “Do I open it the same way I did this one, with the Scepter?”

  His frown relaxed. “I see we have a very resourceful new Sovereign. No doubt you already have experiences that will be valuable additions to the Archives. Yes, it is accessed the same way. To exchange the stones, simply press down on this one with your hand and rotate it to the left to remove it from the Scepter. Replace it with the other by pressing down and rotating to the right.”

  “Should I, um, turn this one off or something first? I can put this Archive back the same way, right?” I felt suddenly panicky at the thought of not being able to see my grandfather again when there were so many things I needed to ask him.

  “Yes, you can exchange the stones whenever necessary, though the other Archive should be kept in its secure location when not in use and its existence guarded even more closely than this one. The command chartlann fionragh will discontinue transmission until reactivated. I look forward to continuing our conversation, Emileia.”

  “Can you?” I was genuinely curious. “Look forward to it, I mean. You’re not…in some kind of limbo in there when I’m not using the Archive, are you?” That sounded awful.

  To my relief, he shook his head. “A figure of speech, based on how I would have spoken—or felt—when alive. My true consciousness went to its reward at my passing.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Um, okay, until later, then. And…thanks. Chartlann fionragh.”

  Even though I’d expected it, I felt a pang when my grandfather abruptly disappeared. Reassuring myself that I’d be talking with him again soon—probably in the Grentl Archive—I put my palm over the pink stone. Before I could twist it to the left, a tap came on my bedroom door.

  “M, er, Excellency? That luncheon starts in five minutes.”

  “Shoot.” I’d forgotten all about that stupid luncheon. Important as it was, unlocking the Grentl Archive would have to wait. Quickly, I replaced the purple stone in its cubby and the Scepter in its special cupboard in my closet.

  “Coming!” I called to Molly.

  * * *

  Even without finger bowls to remind me of Rigel, the luncheon was painful to endure. Several Royal guests I’d met previously still had memory problems, thanks to Faxon, and introduced themselves like they were meeting me for the first time. It served as a brutal reminder that even if I saw Rigel again someday, even if he got some of his
memories back, he’d never again be the Rigel I remembered. That Rigel—my Rigel—was gone forever.

  My meeting afterward with Adara, the Head Mind Healer, was even worse. She’d been the one to oversee the extraction and display of Rigel’s memories, where the truth about the Grentl had come out. The very last time I’d seen Rigel. Maybe if I’d insisted on staying long enough to talk with him afterward…

  I forced my attention away from that excruciating what-if to focus on Adara’s report on the progress of some of the very Royals I’d just seen at lunch.

  “Unfortunately, most recoveries are progressing more slowly than we’d hoped, but we are developing new therapies constantly, some of which show great promise,” she was saying. “We are hopeful others will soon be able to return to their families, if not—immediately—to their duties.”

  “What sorts of therapies are you using? Have any of those who had memories wiped recovered completely?” I tried not to sound as desperate for reassurance as I felt, but her expression was sympathetic.

  “Two people so far have made what appear to be nearly full recoveries, but they had suffered the least tampering, before Faxon became powerful enough to compel full cooperation from our staff. I regret to say that the memory erasures performed by those of us with more training have been much harder to treat.”

  Along with the sympathy I sensed from Adara, I also detected anxiety…and guilt. I had a suspicion why. “Tell me, Healer Adara, did you have a hand in Rigel Stuart’s memory erasure?”

  Though she nodded calmly enough, her emotions spiked sky-high. “I did, Excellency. Because of my qualifications and expertise, I was asked—” She darted a quick glance at Mr. O’Gara. “That is, he and his grandmother requested I supervise the procedure.”

  “So you were there for the whole thing, before and after? Did he—”

  Mr. O cleared his throat. “Excellency, we have only a few more minutes and if you don’t mind terribly, I’d very much like to ask about the status of my daughter Elana.”

  With an effort, I bit back the questions I was itching to ask—like whether Rigel had had second thoughts or any last words for me. Did I really want to know?

  “Oh. Of…of course. How is she doing?”

  Visibly relieved, Adara immediately began talking about the O’Garas’ oldest daughter, who was still in the Mind Healing facility in Pryderi, and who had made notable progress.

  Mr. O smiled broadly at hearing Elana was now recovered enough to receive visitors. “Thank you. Sean and Molly will be delighted to hear the good news about their sister. And now, I really must get the Sovereign to her next appointment.”

  Because he seemed so eager to hurry me away from Adara before I could ask any more questions, I tried to probe his feelings as we headed to my next meeting. But all I picked up was a determined sense of purpose. Surely, if he was hiding anything, I’d be able to sense it?

  * * *

  Sean and Molly had headed out of the Palace to visit friends in Glenamuir immediately after the luncheon, so they got to escape all my boring afternoon and evening meetings. When Molly got back to my apartment, just in time to help me change for bed, she was eager to tell me all about her afternoon.

  Though I knew I was being a bad friend, I faked a huge yawn. “Sorry, I’m just so sleepy. You can tell me the rest tomorrow, okay?”

  Immediately contrite, Molly laid out my nightgown and left. The second the door snicked shut, I raced to the closet and carried my Scepter and the Grentl Archive to the ottoman at the foot of my bed.

  I twisted the pink stone to the left, like Leontine had told me, and it popped right out into my hand. Setting it next to me, I inserted the purple stone in its place, twisting it to the right.

  “Chartlann rochtana.” This time the staff projected an image of a woman in flowing robes of beautiful peacock blue.

  “Aethne?” she asked. Keeping hold of the Scepter, I snatched up my Nuathan dictionary to look up the word she’d used. Ah! It meant “identity.”

  “I’m Sovereign Emileia, just Acclaimed,” I said, hoping this Archive wasn’t completely in Nuathan. That would slow things down enormously.

  To my relief, she responded in English. “Sovereign Emileia. Noted. Genetic imprint verified. This is the Archive documenting initial and continuing contact with the Grentl, commencing in the third year of my reign. I am Sovereign Aerleas.”

  I’d figured she must be, but seeing this young-looking image of my great-grandmother, a woman who’d been dead for over a hundred years, still boggled me. “I’m, uh, glad to meet you.”

  She nodded, but her expression didn’t change.

  “I need all the information you can give me about the Grentl and how to use their device. They sent a, uh, message, but I don’t know how to respond. When I tried, they just pulled more memories out of me.”

  “Yes. This is how the Grentl access information. When they request a report, the Sovereign must absorb the necessary data about the colony’s current status, then interface with the device to transfer that data to the Grentl.”

  Aerleas sounded mechanical, not like a real person at all. Surely she hadn’t actually talked like that, since she’d been one of the most popular Sovereigns ever. Maybe this Archive wasn’t as sophisticated as the other one, with personalities and all?

  “They didn’t exactly request a report. The device activated and I got to it as soon as I could, since they were messing with Nuath’s power. They didn’t ask me anything, though, just pulled my life history out of me—and stopped the power glitches.”

  “No report was sent?”

  “I guess not? I hadn’t ‘absorbed data’ or anything. But then the device activated again, just a few minutes later, and they said, ‘We are coming.’ I tried to ask when. And why. But they just pulled more stuff out of my head.”

  “Did you allow the Grentl to terminate the connection?”

  “Er, no. I think I might have let go early.” I saw no point in explaining why, to this non-personality version of Aerleas. I hoped the one in the other Archive would be easier to warm up to.

  “It is possible they would have said more. You have only recently imprinted on the device?”

  “The day before yesterday. Yes.”

  “It took me many years to establish sufficient rapport with the Grentl to safely initiate contact. Even then, they often declined to respond. I recommend you allow the Grentl to initiate all contact at this time.”

  That was so not helpful! “Can you maybe give me an overview of all communications with the Grentl?”

  “Earliest communication was with two extra-solar researchers, five years before my Acclamation. They discovered little beyond the fact that the Grentl are from a distant part of the galaxy. Repeated attempts to question the Grentl resulted in the device disabling one of the researchers. Six years later, a small team of Communications Engineers made another attempt at contact. They also had limited success, with a similar conclusion. At the Grentl’s request, I was next to interface with the device, at which time I imprinted upon it. The Grentl then cautioned that only I was to use it from that point forward.

  “In subsequent sessions, all but three initiated by the Grentl, I was able to learn more about them. By no means humanoid, the Grentl are a hybrid organic and energy-based life form that reproduces by fission. Their keen interest in the development of the colony of Nuath led me to believe they originally founded it for experimental purposes. The Grentl do not measure time as we do, sometimes treating a span of many years as though only days have passed since the previous communication. Also, they are wary of revealing too much about themselves to lower life forms, as they consider us.”

  “Wow. How did you learn all that, if they don’t like questions?”

  “Over time, my interactions with the device became reciprocal, allowing me to receive impressions from the Grentl much as they received impressions from me. I was never able to ascertain whether this was deliberate on their part or not. I felt it wisest no
t to ask.”

  So they wouldn’t block her from finding out more, I assumed.

  “As with you, at first they were able to access the whole of my conscious memory. Over time I learned to limit the scope of what they received.”

  Ah! “Can you tell me how you did all that? I don’t want to piss them off or anything, but I really do need to get more information about what they plan to do. I’m not sure I can afford to wait until they contact us again. They might just…show up or something. We need to be prepared.”

  She paused for a long moment before answering. Maybe searching through the Archive?

  “There is no precedent for the sort of message you received. Given the potential urgency of your situation, I will attempt to assist but it is possible you will be unable to achieve the same reciprocal communication I did. My son Leontine was never able to do so, nor to limit what the Grentl took from his mind. Therefore he relied primarily on data chips to transmit his reports.”

  “I understand. But I have to at least try.”

  Aerleas nodded gravely. “I concur. Keep in mind, however, that direct questioning of the Grentl is likely to end badly.”

  “Got it. So…what do I do? Just grab onto the device again and wait for them to, uh, pick up?”

  “Essentially.” Still not a trace of a smile. “On the few occasions I initiated contact, that is what I did. On three occasions, they responded. On four others, they did not, though I waited for over an hour each time. When they did respond, it was within twelve minutes.”

  I’d give it at least half an hour, then. “If they do answer, how do I get information from them without asking questions?”

  “Listen. Reach out with your mind. I grew better at this with practice.”

  I wondered if it would be anything like when I used to “listen” for Rigel’s thoughts. Pain lanced through me at a memory so precious, so…gone. Quickly, I asked another question.