Starfall: A Starstruck Novel (15 page)

Anger and frustration tightened my voice as I fought back tears. “And how long do you think that will take? Months?
Years?
” Every
second
away from Rigel’s side was a second too long!

Shim’s expression told me he understood what I was feeling. “If we move quickly, as I think we must, I should think we can get you to Earth during the current launch window. Much will depend upon your persuasive abilities—but I rather imagine you will be strongly motivated to be as convincing as possible.”

“Fine,” I snapped, pissed even at Shim right now. “I’ll record some videos that you can broadcast all over Nuath. If you don’t think they’re persuasive enough, I’ll re-do them. But let’s get started!”

“That may do for a start, but I also suggest a series of in-person appearances throughout Nuath in addition to your media appeals. Even in our advanced technological age, people do tend to appreciate a personal touch.”

“I can help with the arrangements,” Nels offered. “If I’m allowed to make outside calls?”

Though my stomach was positively churning at the idea of delaying my return to Earth, to Rigel, by as much as three whole
months
, I managed to keep my voice level as I asked Shim, “Are we sure Rigel really is safe now?”
 

At his nod, I turned to Nels. “Then I guess I can lift the blocks and you and Devyn can go home.”
 

Nels seemed relieved, but Devyn said, “Actually, I’d like to remain at the Palace if you have no objection, Excellency. I had not yet arranged for permanent lodgings in Nuath and I can better assist Quinn and your Regent from here.”

I shrugged, not much caring where Devyn stayed, as long as it was mostly out of my sight. I’d definitely keep my personal protection protocol in place, though.
 

“Whatever, as long as we get this emigration campaign started
now
. Because, no matter what, I’m getting back to Earth this summer!”

As always, Shim turned out to be right. Using the recent power glitches as our excuse, we had the acting Energy Minister order a complete systems analysis—something the idiot Royal had never bothered to do since being appointed. Of course, it confirmed what I already knew—that Nuath had maybe fifty years of power left at current consumption levels.
 

Once that information was made public, it became a whole lot easier to convince everyone, including the legislature, that emigration to Earth was necessary. Even so, while 87% agreed (according to the networks’ incessant polls) that most Nuathans needed to emigrate, fewer than 25% expressed willingness to do so themselves. Which was where I came in.

Over the next twelve weeks I crisscrossed Nuath, visiting every town and village, some more than once, to add my in-person pleas to the ones I was making regularly through the
grechain
. I extolled the benefits of life on Earth (not that I’d seen much of it, beyond Jewel) and the expanded opportunities they and their children would have there, where
fine
no longer mattered and where, as
Echtrans,
they would enjoy natural advantages over the average
Duchas
due to their superior intelligence, adaptability, and other qualities.

Little by little, I won enough people over to fill the rest of the ships heading to Earth during the remaining weeks of the launch window. My own berth—which I insisted be far smaller than the one I’d had coming here—was finally booked as well…on the very
last
ship of the summer.

Not only was it the last, but because we’d extended the launch window past its usual cut-off to get more people out, my voyage would take six days instead of the four I’d spent getting to Mars.
 

Worse, even
after
I got to Earth, Shim insisted I’d need to make additional in-person visits to Bailerealta and Dun Cloch in Montana, as well as a few other, smaller
Echtran
settlements, to reassure the new immigrants. I’d also be involved in setting up a more extensive
Echtran
government, since the current Council—still two members short—wouldn’t be able to handle everything themselves.
 

All of this meant I’d barely get back to Jewel in time for the first day of school—which meant coming up with a plausible excuse for my aunt and uncle to explain the delay.

Thanks, ironically, to Mr. O’s nastily ingenious plotting, that turned out to be easier than expected. Following their original plan, the
Echtran
Council had already started a rumor in Jewel that both Rigel and I had been in a terrible accident in Ireland and were presumed dead. So it was just a matter of amending that rumor with the “news” that we’d miraculously survived—but would need all summer to recuperate before flying back to the States.
 

I couldn’t help wondering how Aunt Theresa had taken both pieces of news, though I supposed I’d get some idea when I finally returned to Jewel. But whether she’d be overjoyed to see me again or pissed that I’d worried her for nothing, didn’t really matter. The important thing was that I
would
be going back…and so would Rigel.
 

And once he and I were in Jewel again, everything would work out for both of us. I’d make sure of that.
 

Somehow.

Rigel

Standing on the sidewalk in front of Jewel High, I nod automatically when a couple guys slap me on the back and say something about the coming year’s football season. I don’t really hear them, though. I’m too busy thinking how this is going to be the weirdest first day of school ever.
 

I’ve been the new kid at school more years than not, but this year is different. Because this year I’m not really a new kid, I just feel like one. Most everybody will know me but I won’t know them. So not only weird, but awkward to the max.

My mom’s Healer friends say some of my memories might come back eventually. Might. But as of this moment I don’t remember a single thing between last summer, when my family was about to move from Indianapolis to Jewel, and this summer, when I woke up in a hospital in Ireland. A whole year of my life, gone. Poof.

“Hey, Rigel, how are you doing?” A pretty blonde girl puts a hand on my arm and looks me in the face, all concerned. “We heard about your accident and all, and I want you to know I’m here to help you with anything you need—anything at all.”

“Uh, thanks, er…”

“Trina. Trina Squires. We were
super
close friends last year, but I guess you don’t remember, huh?” Her big blue eyes are wide with sympathy. “Come on. I’ll show you where Homeroom is. We’re in the same one.”
 

She holds out her hand to me. I frown at it for a second, then take it, not wanting to hurt her feelings. Other than Coach and the guys at football practice this past week, she’s the first person at Jewel High I’ve met. Re-met. Something in the way she smiles and tightens her grip on my fingers makes me wonder if Trina and I were more than friends last year.

Not too shabby, if so. Judging by most of the other girls I see as we walk through the halls, she’s one of the prettiest in school.
 

“Here we are,” she says brightly, leading me into a classroom. “It’s alphabetical, so you’re right behind me.” Her smile is positively dazzling. I smile back.

“Thanks, Trina. So…does everyone know by now? I mean, about me not, y’know, remembering anything?”

She shrugs and sort of shimmies into her seat. “Maybe not absolutely
everybody
, since it’s the very first day of school, but the coaches told the football team and they told the cheerleaders, so word’s been getting around. I’m head cheerleader this year, by the way! Isn’t that awesome?”

“Oh. Yeah. Awesome. Congratulations.”
 

“Hey, Rigel, great to have you back!” A boy my age slides into a desk across the aisle. “Sorry about what happened to you in Ireland, though. Total bummer. Still, Matt Mullins says you were looking pretty good in practice last week.”

“Thanks.” I wish I knew the guy’s name. Guess I’ll be wishing that a lot today—maybe all year.
 

Trina gives the guy a scolding sort of look. “Pete, you need to introduce yourself, remember? About the—” She taps the side of her head.

“Oh, yeah, sorry! Pete Warner. Must be weird, not remembering stuff, huh?”

“You got that right.” I smile. It probably does seem funny to people. Just not to me.

A few other people within earshot start telling me their names and I try to link each name with something about the person to help me remember. So I can start refilling the big empty spot in my brain.
 

Donna Smith, in front of Trina, has spiky black hair. Black, blacksmith, Smith. Nate Villiers, in front of Pete Warner, looks a little like a guy I met in Bailerealta before coming back to the States. Bailerealta, villagers, Villiers.
 

The homeroom teacher tells us to quiet down and look at our schedules, so we mostly do. I glance over mine. They talked about having me repeat all my classes from last year but decided to let me stick to my original schedule on a trial basis. I hope that wasn’t a bad idea.

“Remember to get an office slip from me if you need to make changes to your schedule,” the teacher is saying when a girl rushes into the room, late.

This girl is almost as pretty as Trina, even with her face flushed with embarrassment—which somehow makes her cuter. Wavy, golden-brown hair sweeps across her shoulders as she apologizes to the teacher, then hurries to her seat. The seat right behind mine.
 

She’s just passing Donna Smith when I feel it—the
brath.
This girl is Martian! Why didn’t anybody—?

I break off my thought when she suddenly locks gazes with me. She has the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen. Beautiful eyes. Definitely need to find out
her
name. But before I can ask, she turns even redder and looks away. Looks upset. Then slips into the desk behind me, where her
brath
is so strong it makes my whole body tingle.
 

Weird. Nobody’s
brath
in Bailerealta did that to me. Even though it was all Martians—
Echtrans
—there.
 

A minute later the bell rings. Trina jumps up and grabs my hand again.
 

“C’mon, Rigel, I’ll show you where your first class is. I’m not in that one, but it looks like we have at least three others together.” She’s talking a little louder than before.

“Just a sec.” Even though Trina’s tugging me in the opposite direction, I turn to the Martian girl behind me. “Hi. We, um, probably met last year, but… Maybe you heard about—?”

“Yeah. I…I heard.” Her voice is soft, but it goes through me like a lightning bolt, or a shot of adrenaline. Bizarre. “I’m M. Er, Marsha Truitt. It’s…good to see you again, Rigel.” She seems to be holding some strong emotion barely under control. I wonder what
that’s
about.
 

Then her name suddenly registers.

“Marsha Truitt? Wait. That means you’re—” Her green eyes go way wide and I immediately shut up, remembering almost too late I can’t blurt out who she really is in front of everybody.

“Rigel, you’re going to make me late to my class,” Trina says, again too loudly, pulling harder on my hand. “Come
on.
”

Embarrassed, realizing I’m still staring, I mumble, “Um, sorry,” and let Trina lead me away.

Trina obviously thinks I was apologizing to her, but I wasn’t. I was apologizing for nearly blowing the cover of Sovereign Emileia, supreme ruler of our people, both on Earth and on Mars. Glancing back over my shoulder I see her watching me with that same suppressed emotion in her green eyes.

And wonder why the hell my parents didn’t tell me the freaking
Sovereign
was going to be attending Jewel High this year.

*
   
*
   
*

“Here you go,” Trina says at the door to my first class, Pre-Calculus. “Let me know if you need help, since you probably don’t remember any of last year’s Geometry or Algebra stuff. We were in the same class, so I can give you my notes and everything.” Her smile implies we might do more than study if I take her up on her offer.

I smile back and nearly ask outright if we were dating last year. But don’t. “Thanks. I really appreciate that. You’d better hurry now, or you’ll be late.”

“It would be for a worthy cause.” She tosses her reddish blonde curls and winks at me, then walks off, giving me a good view of her swaying hips from behind.

I watch for a second, then go into the classroom, bracing myself for another round of introductions from people I should already know.

Apparently word has spread way beyond the football team and cheerleaders by now, because a bunch of kids come up to say hi and tell me their names, most adding what I knew them from last year. Wish Trina’d given me these kinds of details about us. Her. Us?

Two guys are running over the highlights of last year’s football season for me when I again sense Martian
brath
nearby. I look around, expecting to see the Sovereign again, but it’s a different girl. Also pretty, but with darker brown hair and gray eyes. How many
Echtrans
are there at this school? And why didn’t Mom and Dad mention
any
of them?

“Rigel?” this new Martian girl says tentatively. “You…don’t remember me, I guess?”
 

I shake my head. “Sorry. It’s nothing personal. I don’t remember anybody.”
 

“No, no, I know.” There’s a tiny bit of relief in her voice, like she was hoping I’d say no. I wonder why. “I’m Molly. Molly O’Gara. We were friends last year. We, um, hung out a lot with M and Sean. My brother.”

So Sean O’Gara’s in Jewel too? Since the Sovereign’s here, I guess that makes sense. I heard in Ireland he’s her Consort. Or future Consort. I’m not exactly clear on all the political stuff, but I guess they’re like engaged or something. “Nice to meet you again, Molly.”