“That concludes this portion of the test, Excellency. Thank you for your patience. Shall we rejoin the others?”
We reached the living room just as Rigel and Donnan did. Donnan synched his device with Fiona’s to tabulate their results, then looked up in surprise. “This is remarkable. Not a single error on either side.”
Rigel took my hand and we exchanged a smile. We weren’t surprised. “Is that it?” I asked.
“Not quite.” Blair came forward. “I’d like to take a few genetic readings as well, to compare with the data Fiona gathered last year. If you’d each be willing to provide me with a hair follicle?”
Just like we’d done that day at the O’Garas,’ we both plucked strands of hair from our heads and handed them over so he could feed them into his tricorder-thingy. As he watched the display, his eyebrows rose.
“Interesting. The genetic affinity you shared then is much more marked now. Have you noticed a commensurate increase in your joint abilities?”
“Um—” I exchanged a glance with Rigel. “We can communicate over greater distances than before.” We’d already agreed not to reveal just how great a distance. Keeping a few secrets seemed wise after all we’d been through over the past year. Rigel had also urged me not to mention my emotion-sensing ability, insisting it would be less valuable if everyone knew about it.
“I understand the two of you are also able to generate an electrical charge? Shim told me that you disabled an Ossian Sphere last fall when Faxon’s adherents attempted to use one.”
Rigel frowned. “We, uh, haven’t tested that since getting back together. We only ever used it to defend ourselves.”
“Then there were other instances than the one involving the Ossian Sphere?”
I tightened my grip on Rigel’s hand. “A few. The very first time it happened, Rigel was defending me from a bully and we, er, accidentally shocked him.”
“Was he injured?” Fiona looked genuinely concerned.
“I don’t think so.” Rigel shrugged. “Just stunned him for couple seconds. He thought I’d hit him. But he didn’t hassle M again after that.”
“I imagine not,” Blair said drily. “Very well, let’s see if we can get a read on that particular ability. Excellency, if you’ll step over here?” He set a small gray box on an end table and punched up a holo-display.
Letting go of Rigel’s hand, I walked over to the box. “Um, it only seems to work when we’re touching.”
“I understand. But I’d like to get individual readings from each of you first. Now, if you’ll please use your right forefinger to touch this spot here? Slowly, as it may register before you actually make contact.”
Nodding, I extended my right hand toward the dime-sized red circle he’d indicated. I was maybe an inch away from it when a spark skipped from my finger to the dot, giving me an all-too-familiar static shock.
Blair examined the screen’s readout. “Hm. Rather impressive, Excellency. The average Duchas produces somewhere on the order of fifty to one hundred millijoules of electricity with a static touch, whereas the average Echtran’s touch tends to be roughly two to three times that, for physiological reasons I won’t go into right now. However, you registered nearly one joule just now—three to five times normal for an Echtran.”
“Huh. No wonder I’ve always tended to fry electronics.”
“Yes, I imagine that might be rather inconvenient at times. Rigel, if you’ll do the same?”
Rigel’s result was about half of mine, but still more than twice “normal” for a Martian.
“And now, if you two will link hands and try with one of your free hands?”
We did. Oddly, we actually produced less power than either of us had done alone. Blair seemed at least as surprised as Rigel and I were. After staring thoughtfully at the readout for a moment, he turned to us. “You say you’ve only used this…power for defensive purposes in the past?”
We both nodded. “When we were really upset or scared,” I added. “Maybe that makes a difference?”
“Perhaps. It also seems that when you are not stressed, together you are able to control your static output more easily than either of you can do alone. Fascinating.” He tapped a finger thoughtfully against his nose, then shrugged. “I have no wish to upset or frighten either of you, of course. But perhaps if you could, ah, pretend to be upset for a moment, just as a test?”
Let’s try, Rigel thought to me. I’d like to find out just what we can do.
Okay. How about we imagine something bad that really happened, like…that moment when they caught us, after we ran away. Remember? In our panic, we’d knocked out three of our captors, using our electrical ability.
Got it.
We both concentrated for a second or two, then, trying to pretend the measurement device was an enemy, we unleashed a blinding spark. The gray box flew off the end table, bounced off the wall behind it and hit the floor.
“Oops.” I looked apologetically at Blair and the others, who were all staring at us with varying degrees of shock. “Did we break it?”
Blair gave himself a little shake, then went over to retrieve the device. “No, it appears to be intact. Let’s see if I can bring up a measurement for what you just generated.”
He brought up the holo-screen again and tapped through three or four different displays. After blinking several times, he turned to face the rest of us. “Assuming this multimeter is still functioning properly, it indicates that the Sovereign and Rigel have just produced 1.21 gigajoules of electricity—as much as a small lightning strike!”
“Impossible!” Mr. Stuart exclaimed. “That sort of discharge could kill a person instantly, which they’ve certainly never done.”
The surprise with which everyone had been regarding us was now tinged with fear. It was Dr. Stuart who found her voice first.
“Then I’d say we can assume that their telepathic ability is not the only thing that has strengthened since they were reunited. Do try not to make any more lightning bolts in the house, you two. And now, why don’t we all have dinner?”
Her words lightened everyone’s mood, much to my relief. I was freaked out enough by what Rigel and I had done without having people actually afraid of me. Us.
28
Bandwidth expansion
Rigel came along when his mother drove me home after dinner. She seemed thoroughly impressed by the strength of our bond and admitted that even after eighty years together (a length of time that still boggled me), she and her husband still had to be in the same room to communicate in full sentences.
Because of the way Dr. Stuart had helped me shield my thoughts from Rigel last spring when our telepathic ability had become awkward, I was tempted to tell her what our real range was now…but didn’t.
Once I was in my bedroom for the night, I checked my omni and discovered a voice message from Mrs. O’Gara, who was now in Montana.
“Excellency, I’m sorry to say it seems you were right to suspect my brother of being less than truthful.” Even on minimum volume, Mrs. O’s voice sounded strained. “Once I impressed upon him the seriousness of abetting a traitor, he admitted that he believes Gordon to be somewhere in the general vicinity of Jewel. He also volunteered his opinion that Gordon was likely behind the anonymous note Ariel Stuart received.
“I must apologize for my earlier skepticism, Excellency. Tomorrow I will speak with Allister again before returning to Jewel and should I receive any more useful information from him, I will of course let you know at once. Meanwhile, I recommend you share what I’ve learned with your Bodyguard and perhaps the Stuarts, so that they can be alert for anything else Gordon may attempt.”
I sent Mrs. O a quick message thanking her, then reached out mentally for Rigel. Are you still up?
Yeah. It’s kind of hard to wind down after what happened tonight, you know?
No kidding. Anyway, I just listened to a message from Mrs. O and it sounds like we were right about Gordon. Allister admitted he’s hiding out some
where in Indiana and he probably left that note for your mom. I’ll bet he also sicced that anti-Royal dude on me, though Mrs. O didn’t mention that. So he may be the only person we need to worry about.
She couldn’t tell you exactly where he is? Even from five miles away, I sensed Rigel’s frustration. We need to know that to stop him. Maybe we should do what we did in the arboretum again, see if we can reach farther out, find him.
I’m kind of scared to try that in school or even in town, after what happened tonight. What if we do sense a threat and…lose control?
Good point. Maybe the cornfield? Where else can we be really alone?
The cornfield should be safe enough. I hope.
Hope so, too, he thought back. It’s scary to think what we might do if we were really upset.
I couldn’t disagree. Though neither of us said so, we both suspected that what we’d produced for that test was only a fraction of what we were actually capable of. Which was a terrifying thought.
* * *
Before going to sleep, I messaged Cormac to relay Mrs. O’s information about Gordon—something Rigel had insisted I do right away. Cormac messaged back almost instantly that he’d be using every surveillance method at his disposal to detect Gordon if he got anywhere near me.
Rigel was relieved to hear that when I told him the next morning, but he still wanted to get to the cornfield—today, if possible—to see if we could pinpoint exactly where Gordon was. Then Cormac could nab him and our only problems would be political ones. And once last night’s graell research was released to Martians everywhere, surely any lingering Echtran resistance to us as a couple would die down.
In Lit class, Rigel silently suggested I try “scanning” for particular emotions, especially negative or hostile ones. If you get used to what they feel like, maybe you can sort of sensitize yourself, make it easier to spot Gordon—or any other enemies—if they get close.
I gave it a try, lightly “touching” each person in the room with my emotion-sensing ability. It was even easier today than it had been Friday in Econ—so easy I was surprised I hadn’t noticed everyone’s emotions without trying. Just as well, though. That would be worse than the voices had been, before Rigel and I figured out how to control them.
What I sensed now was about what I’d have expected. At least half of the students were bored, while the rest ranged from anxious to hungry to lustful to sleepy. Not surprisingly, the most negative emotion I picked up was from Trina, on Rigel’s other side. Glancing over, I saw her texting on her phone under her desk, a mean little smile playing across her face. I wondered who she was tormenting this time.
Trina, I decided, could be my baseline for identifying enemies. Rigel sent back a silent chuckle at that, then started outlining a lunchtime plan to goad her into even more hostility toward me. It wasn’t nice, but it would give me an idea of what a truly dangerous enemy might “feel” like.
When we got to the cafeteria twenty minutes later, we put Rigel’s plan into effect by getting into the lunch line right behind Trina.
“I can’t believe Bryce Farmer actually called you,” Rigel said to me, just loudly enough for Trina to overhear but not so loudly it would seem like he wanted her to. “I didn’t think you two knew each other that well.”
“We didn’t, really,” I replied at the same volume. “Though he did flirt with me a few times before we left for Ireland last spring. Still, to think he’d invite me, of all people, to the Homecoming dance? I figured he’d take some college girl, if he came at all.”
Bryce had been Jewel’s quarterback before Rigel got here last year, and he and Trina had dated off and on until Bryce graduated and went off to Purdue. He’d also been a bully, which was ironically what led to me figuring out something seriously weird was going on between Rigel and me when we accidentally shocked him senseless.
“You told him no, though, right?” Rigel had clearly noticed Trina’s head twitch at the word “Homecoming,” like I had.
“Well, duh. I’m with you now, Rigel, you know that.”
Though she was pretending not to hear us, Trina couldn’t quite suppress an indignant little snort. I quickly focused on her emotions, then flinched, they were so nasty. If she thought she could do it without getting caught, it was clear she’d gladly strangle me right here in the lunch line.
Yep, good baseline, I thought to Rigel, brushing his hand with mine so he could sense what I was sensing.
Even as his eyes widened at the intensity of Trina’s hate, I disconnected myself from her, feeling slightly soiled by that contact. I was definitely glad I needed to concentrate to use that particular ability!
Doesn’t that mean an enemy could sneak up on you, though? If you don’t know to focus? Rigel asked worriedly.
Not sure. I’ll play with it some more while we eat, I promised him, even though I shouldn’t be at any risk with Cormac on the alert.
We made a point of sitting off in a corner by ourselves for my experiment. Bri grinned after us, but the look Sean sent our way bothered me a little—sad but resigned, exactly what I felt from him when I focused. Not that I knew what to do about it.
Once seated, I very cautiously “opened” my senses to the lunchroom, not aiming in any particular direction, just trying to pick up anything similar to what I’d sensed from Trina a moment ago. At first it didn’t work at all. I got such an overwhelming jumble of conflicting emotions from all directions, I had to quickly shut down.
Rigel shifted his left arm to rest against my right. I wondered if it was because of Sean, knowing what I’d sensed from him, that he didn’t hold my hand.
Try again, Rigel urged.
I did. This time the emotions were both more intense and more identifiable—but even more overwhelming. I hastily backed off again, then tried to barely, barely open myself to the feelings around me. It took several tries, but by the end of the lunch period I’d found a sort of “sweet spot” that allowed me to search the room for specific emotions without being painfully bombarded.
Trina’s were still the most negative in the whole cafeteria. Over at the cheerleaders’ table, she was indignantly telling Amber and Donna what she’d overheard me saying in the lunch line and wondering if she should call Bryce to find out if it was true.
This is good, Rigel insisted as we headed to class afterward. I’ll feel better if you learn to do that even when we’re not touching, but that was a great start.
If I can’t, we’ll just have to touch a whole lot more often, won’t we?
He grinned down at me. All for the sake of the Sovereign’s safety, of course. Think the Council will vote in favor of that?
* * *
During our next two classes, we mentally rehearsed article pitches for Ms. Raymond that would guarantee passes to get us out of Newspaper. If that didn’t work, I’d ask Cormac to summon us to his office tomorrow, so we could go out to the cornfield then, instead.
But when we got to last period, our preparation turned out to be totally unnecessary.
“Tomorrow we’ll get cracking on that parent newsletter but today Angela and I have a video conference with Center North’s newspaper editors, so the rest of you get another day’s reprieve,” Ms. Raymond told the staff. “You can use the room as a study hall or I can give you passes for the media center—whichever you prefer.”
Though I was almost disappointed not to be able to hit her with my great idea, I was still first in line for a pass, with Rigel right behind me. I could always use that idea the next time we wanted to escape—which might be as soon as tomorrow, if we didn’t locate Gordon this afternoon.
“I gave Cormac a heads-up we’d be doing this,” I murmured to Rigel as we led the small exodus out of the newsroom. “So no worries about getting in trouble if anyone sees us leaving.”
It was a beautiful afternoon with just a hint of fall in the air as we crossed the parking lot and headed into the cornfield, hand in hand. The trip to the clearing seemed faster this time, partly because I was m
ore confident of the direction but mainly because I was really with Rigel now, unlike last time.
Though we were both eager to find out how much farther we’d be able to push our combined senses, we couldn’t not kiss, once we reached “our” rock. Rigel gathered me into his arms and I responded eagerly. After a blissful couple of minutes, though, it was time to get down to business.
“Okay,” Rigel said, firmly taking my hand in his, one arm still around my waist. “Ready?”
I nodded, then focused. As we’d agreed, I first attempted to pinpoint Trina inside the school based solely on the hostile (to me) emotions she nearly always broadcast. It was harder than I expected.
Trina should be in Government this period, on the left-hand side of the school, but it took me several minutes to zero in on her. Once I listened in, I realized that was because she was flirting with Nathan Rice instead of plotting any new nastiness. Even so, I was able to detect the residual meanness she apparently always had simmering. Sort of a muted version of the “bad guy vibe” I felt from certain Echtrans.
That’s good, though, Rigel thought encouragingly. You always got that vibe off Gordon, right? So you probably will be able to sense him if he’s in Jewel.
Carefully recalling exactly what I’d felt off Gordon the last time I’d seen him, I started scanning, extending my senses in all directions, pushing them farther and farther. For a while, there was nothing—not surprising, since we really were in the middle of nowhere—but then I felt a faint ping near downtown Jewel. Not Gordon, just a regular angry Duchas, but still encouraging.
By the time I’d been at it for ten minutes, though, I was getting tired and frustrated.
Rigel instantly noticed. “Let’s take a break, okay? We don’t have to spend all our alone time on this project.”
He turned me to face him, his smile irresistible. I leaned into his kiss and for the next minute or so, nothing else mattered. My stress and frustration drained away as I absorbed a wonderful healing dose of Rigel-ness. All too soon, he pulled away, though with obvious reluctance.
Starfall: A Starstruck Novel Page 26
