by Brenda Hiatt
My fear floods back, almost choking me. I’m careful not to look at Molly. I don’t want her to know how scared I am. If Rigel’s dead or something, will we be able to pull M out of this crash in time?
We have to, that’s all. With Nuath’s survival on the line, we have no choice. M has no choice. Stiffening my backbone, I grab M by both shoulders and make her look at me.
“M! M, snap out of it and tell me what happened! Please!”
It’s several long moments before she can stop herself from sobbing and gasping, but slowly, slowly, she does. Still sniffling a little, she wipes her nose with the back of her hand, then finally starts talking.
“I got…I got a message. From Rigel. He said…he said…”
“Did you erase the message?”
She shakes her head.
“Then can I watch it? So you don’t have to tell me?”
“Oh. Oh, I guess so. But I don’t think I can—”
I loosen my grip on her shoulders, instead stroking them lightly. “Hey, it’s okay. Everything is going to be okay, M. Somehow. You’ll see.” It’s a stupid promise, one I have no power to make come true, but I don’t want her to fall apart again. “I’m going to watch the message now, okay? You don’t have to if you don’t want, though. You can go in the other room with Molly.”
At my glance, Molly holds out her hand to M. “C’mon, M. Let’s get you a cup of tea, okay?” M lets Molly pull her up, lets her lead her out of the room. Molly sends a helpless glance over her shoulder at me as they go. I want to reassure her, too, but that will have to wait.
As soon as the bedroom door closes behind them, I power up the vid and play Rigel’s message. My mouth falls open as I listen. Because even if I happen to agree his leaving is the right thing for Nuath, I can’t believe he’d really do something like this to M. Especially not right now. As soon as the message ends, I hit “play” again.
As I watch the video for a second time, a suspicion starts to niggle at the back of my brain. But it would be beyond cruel to say anything to M unless I can verify it. Besides, it would be guaranteed to distract her from what she needs to do over the next twenty-four hours and nothing is worth risking that.
After a third watching that unfortunately makes my suspicion even stronger, I turn it off and join M and Molly in the living room.
They’re sitting at the table, both with cups of tea, and I’m relieved to see M actually sipping hers. Molly isn’t. She looks questioningly at me but I shake my head slightly. I’ll tell her later.
“I’m sorry, M.” I sit down next to her but don’t touch her. “I don’t blame you being upset. But can we worry about that problem after we keep Nuath from being destroyed?” I’m careful not to say Rigel’s name, afraid it might set her off again.
She sets down her teacup and gives a huge, shuddering sigh. “I don’t— No. You’re right. I have to at least try.” She lifts her chin an inch and looks at me, misery still clouding her green eyes. “Thanks, Sean.”
“Hey, what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t help you save the world?” I say it lightly, though it’s taking all my willpower not to touch her, to hold her. She seems to need comfort so badly. Later, I promise myself. “I came to tell you Dad found Eric.”
“Alive?” She looks afraid to hope, like she’s bracing herself for another disaster.
“Yes, alive. But he’s in the hospital and we need you to get him out. They won’t even tell Dad anything about his condition.”
M takes another sip of tea, then stands up, squaring her shoulders. “Okay. Just tell me who to call.”
I’m incredibly proud of her but don’t say that, either. “Let me ask Dad.” I message him and two minutes later he joins us in M’s apartment.
He shoots a curious glance at M, who still looks pretty fragile even though she’s holding herself together at the moment. Before he can ask her what’s wrong, I touch his arm and give him a quick shake of my head. He frowns, then nods before turning to M again.
“Sean told you we found Eric Eagan? He’s in the Whelan Healing facility in Pryderi, condition unknown. I couldn’t get any information from the person who answered my call, but you should be able to.”
M doesn’t say anything, just goes to the big vidscreen and pulls up the controls like she’s done it a million times. “Whelan Healing facility,” she says firmly.
A second later a blonde woman appears. She looks shocked when she realizes who’s calling, then bows to the screen. “Apprentice Healer Gilda at your service, Excellency! May…may I help you?”
“Yes,” M says. “I need to have Eric Eagan sent to the Royal Palace as soon as possible.”
“Eric Eagan?” The woman taps something in front of her and frowns. “According to his records, he’s not in a condition to leave the facility. In fact, well…”
“Well what?”
“I’m sorry, this is the sort of thing that’s normally only shared with next-of-kin, but—”
“But I am the Sovereign,” M reminds her.
The blonde pales slightly. “Of course. Also, he doesn’t seem to have any next-of-kin listed. I’m ah, afraid Eric Eagan isn’t expected to leave the Healing facility at all, Excellency. His condition is both fragile and terminal.”
Oh, crap! Dad and I exchange worried glances and I hear a little sound somewhere between a gasp and a sob from M. “Terminal? But—”
“His birthdate does show him to be well over three hundred years old. I’ve never heard of anyone choosing to stay alive for so long. Unfortunately, there are still some limits to what we can do to slow the aging process.”
“Can…can I at least talk to him?” M asks after a second.
“I don’t know whether he’s lucid at the moment, but I can try. Just a moment.”
The screen saver pops up, then a quavery voice says, “Yes? Hello?”
“Eric?” M says. “Eric, it’s M. Um, Sovereign Emileia.”
“Excellency. Thank God.” He breaks off and we hear coughing. Then, his voice a little stronger, he says, “They took my omni when I was admitted.”
I see M swallow. “I’m so sorry, Eric. I just found out—”
“No time,” he interrupts. “You need to have me brought to the Palace immediately. Make it a Royal order, so they can’t refuse.”
“Can’t you just…tell me what to do?” M looks like she’s about to cry, but not about Rigel this time.
“No. Everything here is monitored. Not secure.” He starts coughing again, for longer this time. Finally, he just says, “Hurry. Please,” and breaks the connection.
M turns to look at us. “What if he’s too sick to move?”
“Eric is dying anyway,” Dad says gently. “I imagine he’d rather save Nuath first, if he possibly can. Call again and ask for Eric’s Healer.”
She does, and Gilda transfers her call.
“Healer Alban, Sovereign. Honored, of course.” The guy gives her a sketchy bow, not looking honored at all. “I’m afraid I was in the middle of— What can I do for you?”
“Healer, I require the presence of Eric Eagan at the Royal Palace. Immediately.” M’s voice is so authoritative it startles me. Good for her!
But the Healer frowns. “I’m sorry, Excellency, but that is not possible. His condition—”
“Yes, I’ve been informed, and I’m sorry to hear it, but I’m afraid it’s irrelevant. This is a matter of vital importance and no one but Eric will do. He is in full agreement that he must come. He can be brought on a stretcher, if necessary. Please make the necessary arrangements.”
His frown becomes a scowl. “I really cannot sanction—”
“Noted. Should his condition worsen as a result of my request, I will take full responsibility.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” the guy snaps. “It may take a few minutes to—”
M cuts him off again. “Thank you. I’ll wait.”
The next five minutes seem to last forever. Again I want to tell M how proud I am of her, but a
gain I don’t. Finally the blonde Apprentice Healer appears on the screen again.
“I apologize for the delay, Excellency, but Eric’s Healer— Anyway, he has authorized Eric’s visit to the Royal Palace, once all possible precautions have been taken. I was told we can have him there tomorrow morning, if that will be acceptable?”
“If they can possibly get him here today, please tell them to do so. I appreciate your assistance Gilda.” M ends the call and lets out a long breath, her shoulders slumping a little now.
Dad shakes his head. “That’s going to be cutting it too close. Now that they’ve authorized his release, I’ll go there in person to see if I can hurry the process—with your permission, of course.”
“If you think it will help. The sooner we can get him here, the better.”
“Do you want me to come, too?” I need to tell Dad what Rigel did to M, but I’m kind of afraid to leave her right now, in case she falls apart again. So I’m mostly relieved when Dad shakes his head.
“No need. Do what you can here to help prepare for Eric’s arrival.” He shoots a concerned look at M. For a second he looks like he’s about to say something else, but then just leaves.
As soon as he’s gone, M sort of collapses in on herself. I help her to a chair before she can fall down.
“Hey, easy. Just relax for a minute. You did great just now, by the way. Every inch the Sovereign.”
M looks up and gives me a sad little laugh that makes my gut twist. “Guess I’m a better actress than I thought.” Then her face crumples and she starts crying again. Not sobbing this time, just tears flowing silently down her cheeks.
“M, don’t! Please. Try to hold it together for the next twenty-four hours and then we’ll figure something out, okay? Maybe you can order somebody to restore his memory like they’ve done with the people Faxon messed with.”
“What—?” Molly starts to say, but stops at my look. She needs to know, though.
“M, can Molly watch that message, too?”
M nods, tears still running down her face. I motion to Molly to go into M’s bedroom and do that. No way I want M to see it again, not now.
While Molly’s gone, I bring M more tea and sit next to her, talking the whole time but not really saying much. Trying to comfort her with my voice, mostly.
“Dad’ll do what he can to get Eric here faster and you’ll want to be ready for that, right? So drink up and I’ll ask Molly to pick you out something to wear. What kind of outfit would be appropriate for saving the world, huh?”
She doesn’t laugh but she does take a sip of tea. Then another. Good enough for now.
Molly rejoins us after a couple of minutes, looking shell-shocked and almost like she might cry herself. I send her another warning look so she won’t start telling M how sorry she is. We need to keep her mind off that message as much as possible.
And that’s what we spend the rest of the day doing.
Molly putters around the apartment asking M’s opinion on stupid stuff like where a vase of flowers should go or which shoes she’d rather wear with a certain outfit. I turn on the news feeds and scan for stories I think might distract M, then try to get her talking about them. Half the time she doesn’t respond to either one of us, like she’s too deep in her own tortured thoughts to hear. But other times she does, so we keep it up, keep trying to draw her out of herself.
Dad comes back late that afternoon, but he doesn’t look happy.
“That Healer Alban is a piece of work,” he says. “Even though I said I was acting on behalf of the Sovereign, he put me off for hours, then finally agreed to have Eric brought here this evening. But that won’t help us much, because he insists Eric be sedated for the move and can’t be awakened before morning. Still, better this than having Eric arrive sedated in the morning—which would have kept him from helping in time.”
M doesn’t react but Molly looks scared again.
“Good thing you went, Dad,” I say quickly. “Now we’ll have a few hours to spare. It’ll be fine.” That’s for Molly. And M. For all of us, really.
Dad and I go back to our apartment to change for dinner—in M’s private dining room again—and I finally have a chance to tell him about Rigel.
“Hm. She seems to be coping fairly well, at least.”
I look at him like he’s nuts. “Coping well? She was a basket case when I first got to her. Ask Molly. Why would Stuart do this, especially now? He had to know what it would do to her.”
“Youth doesn’t always think ahead, but in this case it’s probably for the best. Perhaps his grandmother suggested this course, as it will go a long way toward clearing their family name.”
“Yeah, but—” I start to mention my suspicion about that message, but something in Dad’s expression stops me. It’s almost like he expected this, only…how could he? Either way, there’s nothing we can do right now—not until after M stops the Grentl.
“I’m sure M will get over this, in time.” Dad still sounds way too calm, almost dismissive. “Meanwhile, we’ll help her to do what she needs to do tomorrow. As Nels Murdoch has called to remind me half a dozen times today, that’s the important thing. Let’s not lose sight of that.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t.” But M is important, too, and I wonder if Dad hasn’t maybe lost sight of that.
CHAPTER 37
gaiscigh (GAH-sheeg): heroism; act of extreme bravery
I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling as the fake Nuathan daylight gradually turned it from dark gray to pale blue. Yesterday’s events were still a blur and I was trying to keep them that way.
My soul-deep shock that Rigel wouldn’t be here for me, that he’d actually made the choice to leave me, had left me almost incapable of thought. If Sean—and Molly, and their Dad—hadn’t been here, making me almost literally put one foot in front of the other, I might have fallen so deeply into my black hole of misery I’d be stuck there forever. I still wasn’t sure they’d done me a favor by dragging me out.
Last night, when Molly finally left me alone, the enormity of what had happened crashed over me all over again. Sure, I’d been upset when Rigel was sent down to steerage on the ship and I’d been forbidden to talk to him. And even more upset when his grandmother took him away with barely a goodbye. But this…this might just destroy me completely.
Those other times, I’d at least been secure in his love and knew the separation was as painful for him as it was for me. And I’d had some reason to believe it wouldn’t be permanent. Not only was this separation permanent, but I was in pain all by myself. By now, Rigel didn’t even know who I was. Didn’t remember…anything that mattered.
I’d cried until no more tears would come, leaving me with a dull numbness that lasted all night. I welcomed it, clung to it even now. Numb was better. Easier. Maybe if I stayed numb long enough—
“M?” Molly’s voice filtered through the locked bedroom door. “Dad’s here. He says Eric Egan is finally awake.”
At her words, my sluggish brain started working again in spite of me. I resisted at first, fighting to hang onto the numb, because renewed capacity for thought meant renewed capacity for pain. But it was no use.
With a groan, I heaved myself to my feet and went to the bathroom to splash a bit of precious cold water on my face. It didn’t help—my eyes were still red-rimmed and puffy. I shrugged at myself in the mirror. Appearances didn’t matter any more. Nothing did. Not to me.
But I still had to put one foot in front of the other, at least for the next few hours. “Game on,” I said to my reflection, forcing myself to muster all the strength I had left for the challenge I’d come to Mars to face. Even with my heart ripped out, I had to do what I could to save Nuath from the Grentl.
After that, I could go back to numb. Maybe for good.
The others were waiting in the living room to urge breakfast on me before going to see Eric, but I refused everything but a few sips of tea.
“Let’s get on with it.” In a detached sort of wa
y, I noticed how dead my voice sounded. If the others noticed, they didn’t comment on it.
Mr. O led the way to the guest wing, where Eric had spent the night. I followed docilely, Sean close by my side, Molly and Cormac two steps behind.
“How long do we have?” I heard Molly whisper fearfully to Sean as we walked.
“Nearly two hours,” he responded. “Plenty of time. Don’t worry, Mol.”
Two hours didn’t sound like plenty of time, but I couldn’t seem to summon any worry. Some remote corner of my mind knew I should be nervous, even afraid, but I wasn’t. Probably just as well.
Mr. O stopped in front of a door, pressed the chime, and it slid open. Inside, a woman in a metallic green uniform was helping Eric into a complicated-looking silver chair that hovered a few inches from the floor. At our entrance, both of them bowed to me, Eric from his chair.
“Thank you for coming, Eric,” I said mechanically. “I’m sorry it was necessary.”
“Quite all right, Excellency.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “It was my wish to come. You may leave me now,” he told the attendant. “This chair has everything I need, and it will notify the facility should my condition change. Whether I want it to or not.”
The woman frowned disapprovingly, but nodded and left. Forcing myself to really focus on Eric, I was momentarily shocked out of my numbness by the change two weeks had wrought. Old as he’d appeared before, now he looked like an animated, emaciated corpse, his skin sunken against his bones and his hands impossibly frail. Only his eyes showed that he was alive and conscious.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated, this time meaning it. “I had no idea—”
“My choice,” he interrupted wheezily. “Only reason I’m still around. Had I known I might deteriorate so quickly, I would have given you more information when we last met. Now…” He paused to catch his breath before continuing. “Now we have little time to waste. If my calculations are correct—”
I nodded. “Right. We have to do this in the next two hours. I know. Can you tell us where we need to go and exactly what I have to do when I get there? Then I can handle things myself and you can…rest.” He really did look and sound awful.
