by Brenda Hiatt
Yeah, might as well. He was nervous, too.
Less than five minutes later the door chime rang and Molly opened it for Sean and his father.
“Sorry I slept so late,” I greeted them. “I hope you haven’t been waiting too long?”
“It’s fine.” I was relieved to see Mr. O smiling. “Sean slept late too. It gave me time to pull up information on all of the Royals on the ship.”
We arranged ourselves around the table—Rigel and Molly were allowed to sit, since it wasn’t a formal meal—and Mr. O launched right into business.
“As I mentioned in Chicago, Devyn Kane is your most serious opposition, as he has a strong following among both Echtrans and Nuathans. Gordon Nolan may have designs on the leadership as well, though he’s been paying lip service to Devyn’s bid. They’ve both spent the last year or two cultivating the Echtran community in Montana. Annwyn Walsh also appears to be primarily a supporter of Devyn’s. In fact, she worked under Devyn in the Ministry of Culture pre-Faxon.”
He paused to take a couple of bites of egg and ham and a large swig of tea before continuing. “There are four others aboard that you’ll meet tonight, if not sooner.”
I swallowed my toast and marmelade. “Tonight? What’s happening tonight?”
“The Captain is hosting a welcome dinner in his quarters for all of the Royals aboard. I imagine that’s what the message light on your vidscreen is about.” Sure enough, a little blue light was flashing at the bottom of the huge vidscreen.
“A formal dinner?”
“Of course. It will be a chance for all of you to practice the protocol you’ve learned. We can discuss the other Royals’ agendas after you’ve met them, but at least two appear to be angling for Regent, and can therefore be expected to support you for Sovereign. Those would be Phelan Monroe, who was Mayor of Arregaith before she fled to Earth, and Irving Kennedy, a former member of the Riogain.”
The Riogain, I knew, was the Royal House, Nuath’s equivalent to the British House of Lords, though more like our Senate in terms of power.
“Would you recommend either of them?” I hadn’t thought as far ahead as appointing a Regent.
He lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know either of them personally, though I met Phelan once, years ago. They both seem to have unblemished records. Eamon Kennedy is Irving’s brother, so can be assumed to support Irving’s bid for Regent. You can expect all of them to ingratiate themselves, hoping to influence your decision.”
I did a quick mental count while swallowing a little more breakfast. “That’s three I haven’t met. Who’s the fourth?”
“Rory Glenn. Slightly older, known for his traditional views. He will likely be your staunchest supporter of the lot, though he has a history of mistrusting others and occasionally making unfounded accusations. He was also a member of the Riogain.” Though he’d barely eaten, Mr. O stood. “Sean is eager to give you a tour, I know, so I’ll leave you to it, unless you have questions.”
“No questions now, though I’ll probably have lots after tonight. Thanks, Mr. O’Gara.” As he left, I ran back over the names he’d listed, trying to commit each one and his or her agenda to memory.
I’ll make some notes later, too, Rigel promised and I silently thanked him.
Sean, who had already demolished one overflowing plate, cleared his throat as he refilled it. “Um, while we’re all private here, I should probably tell you about a rumor I heard last night.”
“Um, we’re not sure how private.” I pointed at the cameras. “We noticed them last night, after you left.” No reason he needed to know more than that.
Sean glanced up, then at me and Rigel, the corners of his mouth twitching. “I guess the security on this ship is pretty good, huh?”
It wasn’t hard to guess why Sean was happy about the cameras. The exact same reason Rigel and I weren’t.
Jerk, Rigel thought.
Be nice, I thought back, though I was nearly as irked as he was. “What kind of rumor?”
“What do you think?” Sean looked from me to Rigel and back. “Haven’t I told you guys you’re not…I mean…” He glanced up at the cameras and frowned.
I let out a frustrated hiss. “Let’s talk in my room. As far as I can tell, there aren’t any cameras in there.” I had to resist a childish urge to stick my tongue out at the nearest camera.
Without a word, we all trooped into my little parlor.
I slid the door closed and turned to Sean. “Okay, spill. What exactly did you hear?”
He was examining the corners of the room. “Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure. Anyway, we need to know. Who told you what?”
Sean took a swig of the orange juice he’d brought with him before answering. “I think it was mainly about last fall. Before, well, you know.” I nodded and motioned for him to continue. “But even in Bailerealta, some people suspect something’s still going on between you two.”
“Some people?” Molly echoed. “Like who?”
“Well…Brenna, for one. But—”
“Brenna? Seriously? Isn’t that a little—” She stopped abruptly when Sean shot her a shut up glare.
He looked almost furtively at me. “It’s possible she’s a little…I mean…”
It was all I could do not to laugh. “Jealous?” I finished for him. “Don’t look so surprised. It was kind of obvious something was going on between you two.”
“Not any more,” he said quickly. “Not even a little. I told her to cool it, that we couldn’t—”
“Hey, it’s not like it bothers me. And it wasn’t just her behavior that tipped me off,” I couldn’t resist adding. “Maybe it’s not as easy to hide that sort of thing as you think, huh?”
Rigel chuckled and Sean frowned at him. “Okay. Maybe I deserved that. Especially since Brenna and I were never as… Well, not like you two are. Were!” he corrected himself forcefully. “Right?”
“We’re trying, Sean, you know that. But it doesn’t mean we aren’t still bonded, or that we don’t still—”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” he growled. “It’s not like you ever let me forget. Anyway, I thought you should know Brenna and her mum suspect, and maybe other people on the ship, too. You know how important it is to get you Acclaimed, right?”
It was way more important than Sean knew, but I just nodded—though I could feel a silent question from Rigel. Later. I quickly shut off that line of thought. For now.
“We’ll be careful,” Rigel promised. And try to find out who’s monitoring those cameras, he added silently.
I nodded my agreement to both of Rigel’s statements and stood. “Let’s take that tour of the ship.”
Sean led the way out of my quarters. “Dad got permission from the Captain for me to show you the Bridge and Engine Room, so I figured we’d start at the top and work our way down.”
“Isn’t this the top?” I glanced around the carpeted hallway.
Sean shook his head. “Bridge is above us, but we have to go through the officers’ quarters to get there.” He pressed the chime on the door across from mine and a moment later a uniformed crewman opened it.
As soon as the man saw me, his eyes widened slightly and he did the fist-over-heart bow. “Good morning, Excellency. I am Lieutenant Michael. I understand you wish to tour the Bridge?”
“Yes, please. We, um, won’t get in the way or stay long.”
“Of course. If you’ll come with me?” He motioned us into the main area of the officers’ quarters, about half the size of my living room, with several doors leading off it—individual cabins, I assumed. A female crew member just getting up from a table immediately bowed to me before respectfully backing through one of the doors, which opened, then closed automatically.
Moving to what looked like another set of lift doors, Lt. Michael touched a panel. “Sir, permission to bring the Princess up?”
“Granted,” came Captain Liam’s voice.
Our guide palmed open the lift door and a few seconds l
ater we all stepped out onto the Bridge, a round room roughly the size of my living room, with screens and panels covering more than half of the wall surfaces. Captain Liam stepped forward to greet me with a bow.
“Welcome, Excellency. I trust you slept well?”
“I did, thank you.” I tried to focus on him instead of my incredibly cool surroundings.
“Glad to hear it. If you don’t mind, I would prefer that none of you touch anything on the Bridge.”
I quickly shook my head. “Of course not. But I’d love to know what some of these things do.”
“Certainly. The main viewscreen shows the space ahead of the ship in the direction of travel. Those smaller ones show the views starboard, port, aft, above and below us.” He pointed at each screen in turn. “Should any object be detected, an analysis will immediately overlay the appropriate screen. This central chair is the command console, while those other stations allow detailed monitoring and control of navigation, propulsion and various scans, both external and internal.” As he pointed, the crew member at each console stood and bowed smartly to me—two women and a man. “I’ll be happy to answer any questions, of course.”
Momentarily speechless, I felt for all the world like I’d been plunked in the middle of a Star Trek set. I was dying to move closer to inspect some of the monitors and controls but was afraid I’d geek out and say something totally non-regal.
Then Rigel surprised me by asking, “What about security, Captain? I assume there are procedures in place to ensure the Sovereign’s safety aboard?”
“Absolutely. You, of course, are her first line of defense, but every crew member aboard the Quintessence is pledged to protect the Princess with our lives. Her door is genetically coded so that no one can access her suite without her, and security cameras are located throughout the ship, to include the main area of her quarters.”
“But not in my own private bedroom or sitting room?” Catching on, I realized this was way quicker than searching.
“Of course not.” The Captain looked startled. “Even security should not supercede proper respect, Excellency.”
Rigel nodded, looking impressively official, though his cautious relief echoed mine. “And where are those cameras monitored? I assume access to the recordings is restricted so that potentially sensitive matters of state are protected?”
“The recordings are never viewed at all unless there is cause. Barring an inquest, they are routinely destroyed one month after each voyage.”
Even better! As long as nobody found a reason to look at those recordings, we were home free.
Though I felt like grinning with relief, I kept my smile polite. “Thank you so much, Captain. We’ll let you get back to your duties.”
He bowed to us again, as did all the other crew members. As we took the lift back down, Rigel and I silently cheered our narrow escape from what could have been a disaster for both of us.
CHAPTER 18
Quintessence (kwin-TESS-ens): one of four passenger vessels used to transport Nuathans between Earth and Mars
After the Bridge, Sean showed us the suite he was sharing with his dad on Level Two, about half the size of my bedroom. The rooms on Three and Four were about half that size, he informed us, though we bypassed those levels and the Commons, on Five, to visit the Engine Room next, at the very base of the ship.
I was nearly as boggled by the Engine Room as the Bridge. The enormous, circular, anti-gravity drive took up nearly the whole room, totally different from any engine I’d ever imagined. Spaced around the loudly humming drive were three manned monitoring stations, each with a different holographic display. None of us had the nerve to step completely out of the lift so, after a minute or two of staring, we headed back up a level.
Steerage, on Level Six, was divided into two rooms, one bigger than the other. The smaller room, Sean told us, was general crew quarters and housed about a dozen people. The big one that the lift opened into held a lot more, with moveable partitions between groups of bunks. A common bathroom served the whole area, though at least it was divided into his and hers sections.
“No wonder Brenna’s pissed,” I murmured. “I wouldn’t want to get bumped down here, either.”
“It’s not so bad,” Molly assured me. “I spent a lot of time in Steerage on our trip to Earth, since one of my best friends was here with her family. They eat in the Commons like everybody else and they pipe in white noise at night to mask the sound of the drive downstairs so everybody can sleep. It’s not nearly as crowded now as it was on that trip, when so many people were trying to escape from Faxon.”
It still looked depressingly barracks-like but I didn’t say so, because by then a few people were coming forward to greet me, seemingly delighted by my visit. Several others hung back, though, looking wary—including Brenna and a woman I assumed was her mother. Did they think I was doing some kind of inspection? Or maybe slumming it, for appearance’s sake?
I’d always had a problem with the Nuathan class system, but I tried to shake off my unease at this vivid reminder of it so I could play my part convincingly.
You’re doing great, Rigel assured me as I responded to all the bows, but I could tell he was unsettled as well.
For the first time, I wondered how many people on Mars thought they were better off under Faxon than under the Sovereigns. And, more importantly, how many might be reluctant to have a Sovereign again now Faxon was gone, like those men who’d protested during my speech in Bailerealta. After all, Faxon had swept to power by railing against Royals and the whole class system, so there must have been a bunch who agreed, people who’d always felt inferior under the old regime…and might feel that way again under a new one. Why hadn’t this been covered in any of those texts I’d had to read?
I’d learned reams of protocol, read everything to do with the Sovereigns and their role in government, plus everything else about how the Nuathan government was organized. But almost nothing about how Faxon came to overthrow that government or why enough people had supported him to make that possible—which suddenly struck me as a pretty glaring oversight.
As we were leaving Steerage, I felt an uncomfortable sensation and glanced over my shoulder to see Brenna glaring at me from just a few feet away. She immediately smoothed her expression to neutrality, but the negative vibe I got off her didn’t change. It wasn’t like the “bad guy” vibe I got off some Echtrans, more a sense of her actual emotion—like what I got from Rigel, though less clear. She must be really jealous, or pissed, or both, for me to be able to pick that up.
Sean followed my gaze and frowned, but Brenna turned her shoulder and walked away.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “She’s still kind of—”
“No, it’s okay. I get it.” I just hoped Brenna wasn’t the vindictive sort, like Trina. “Where to next?”
“As you can see, the Commons is pretty different now than it was last night,” Sean said when we reached the big room where we’d sat for liftoff. Only two rows of chairs remained in front of the viewscreen, while the rest of the big room had been transformed into a dining hall on one side and what looked like a general recreation area behind the theater-style seats.
Sean led us that way first. “They have lots of activities here, since space travel gets boring. Games, a full gym, exercise classes, all kinds of stuff. And they show movies on the viewscreen most nights after dinner.” We all glanced up at the image of Earth, still receding.
“Or you can order movies from the vidscreen in your quarters if you want to watch something else,” Molly volunteered. “Except in Steerage. They have to agree on a flick for the screen down there.”
Yet another reason for everyone down there to resent the rest of us.
We looked around for a couple of minutes, then Sean took us across to the dining area. “We don’t have to eat here, but check this out.” He went to one of several little alcoves along one wall. “You like tea, right?” He punched something into the touchpad next to the alcove, and a momen
t later a steaming cup rose up from the bottom. “Earl Grey, but they have a couple dozen different kinds stocked.”
I’d learned in Bailerealta that food recombinators weren’t really like the food replicators on Star Trek, since these had to use actual ingredients on hand, but they still seemed impossibly sci-fi to me. I took a sip of the tea, which already had honey and milk added exactly the way I liked—as Sean had clearly known.
“The food’s probably better in your suite, if you’d rather eat there,” he said.
“No, here is fine. I don’t want people to think I’m all elitist or anything.” I also hoped to get an idea of the general mood on board, after that unsettling visit to Steerage. Could I pick up negative emotions from others if I got close enough? Useful as such an ability might be, I almost hoped not.
If you can, you should. I’m in favor of anything that will keep you safer, even if you find out things you’d rather not, Rigel responded, startling me. I instinctively started to shield before remembering with relief that I didn’t have to. Not now.
Me too, I guess, I thought back. But actually knowing every time someone resents me or dislikes me seems creepy. And depressing.
I suppose. I wouldn’t want to get into Trina’s head, for example.
I was glad he understood. But then, he almost always did, I thought with a smile. If we could just arrange a half hour or so of uninterrupted silent conversation, maybe I could finally—
“Here okay?” Sean had stopped at a table. “I can get your food if you want.”
“Nope, that’s my job. Which I’ve hardly done so far.” Molly sent a mock-accusing look at me.
Sean glowered for a moment, which seemed like an overreaction, then shrugged and went with Molly to the food alcoves to get his own meal. Rigel, ever conscious of protocol, stood behind me while they were gone. Did I have time to at least start explaining?
