Starstruck (25 page)

“A colleague of mine,” Shim clarified. “He is here at Allister’s request to help with any, ah, tests that might be necessary.”

Again with the tests! I sent another panicked glance toward Rigel. His lips were pressed together in a thin, angry line that didn’t reassure me at all.

“
I
need no tests,” declared the little woman, Nara. “I’m perfectly satisfied of her lineage.” Then, to me, “As far as I’m concerned, my dear, you are my born Sovereign and I will treat you as such.”

Though her exaggerated deference made me feel really, really strange, I was also grateful for her support, so I managed another smile. “Uh, thanks . . . Nara.”

To my acute embarrassment, she rose again and sank into another deep curtsey before sitting back down.

“Can we please get on with it?” the other woman, Kyna, said testily. “I’d like to know whether leaving my research at such a critical juncture was justified.”

“Kyna Nuallan is one of NASA’s leading astrophysicists,” Rigel’s father explained in an undertone.

I was about to ask if most of the top scientists on Earth were really Martians, but Shim spoke again.

“We’d first like to ask you a few questions, Marsha.” I swallowed at the word
first
. “I understand that you were adopted at an early age, correct?” I nodded. “Please tell us everything you remember from your earliest childhood.”

“Um . . .” I gulped, trying to marshal my thoughts. “I don’t remember a whole lot, actually.” Again I glanced at Rigel, remembering our first conversation in the cafeteria. He gave me a little nod, which reassured me. A little. So, with a lot of embarrassing pauses and stammering, I told them basically what I’d told him, about being adopted, then orphaned again, then raised by my aunt and uncle.

“So you remember nothing—nothing at all—about your birth parents?” Allister asked, even though I’d already said that.

I shook my head, wondering why it should matter so much. “I wasn’t quite two when they, um, died. So, no.”

Now the only man who hadn’t yet spoken leaned forward in his chair. “And yet, from what Ariel Stuart tells us, you seem to have retained some vestiges of memory, though you apparently didn’t realize it.”

“This is Bain Quinlan, a NASA psychiatrist,” Shim informed me. “He is fully qualified to evaluate certain qualities considered necessary for sovereignty.”

“Qualities?” I looked to Rigel and his parents in confusion.

His mother stepped forward. “But not before dinner,” she said firmly. “And I won’t have Marsha questioned over her meal, either. That can wait. She has had multiple shocks these past few days and I won’t have her upset further—particularly on an empty stomach. Come along into the dining room, everyone, Marsha.”

She put a hand on my shoulder and I was grateful, not only for her words but for the faint echo of Rigel’s calm that flowed through me at her touch.

As we all moved toward the dining room, Rigel stepped to my side, which calmed me further, though I noticed he was very careful not to actually touch me. On impulse, I moved closer to him—only to have him move the exact same distance away from me.

“What?” I whispered.

He looked at me with those amazing eyes and gave his head a small shake. “Not now,” he muttered, for my ears alone. “I’ll explain later.”

CHAPTER 15

Hypothesis verification

Dinner was delicious—baked salmon with apricot glaze, asparagus, and tiny red potoatoes—but super awkward, especially at first.

Rigel started to sit next to me at the long table, but Allister Adair cleared his throat and he paused. Shim motioned Rigel further down the table, then sat next to me himself. Dr. Stuart sat on my other side before Allister could, to my relief. There was something about the way he watched me that made me nervous.

Nara sat right across from me and kept smiling and bobbing her head every time I looked her way. That kind of weirded me out, so I tried to avoid her eye. Also Kyna’s, since she still looked critical. Flynn and Bain both seemed to be analyzing me like I was some kind of curiosity. So I mostly kept my eyes on my plate.

At first no one seemed to know what to talk about, since Dr. Stuart had forbidden them to question me over dinner—which made me feel like I shouldn’t ask questions, either. But then Rigel’s dad asked Shim something about the political situation back on Mars. Shim answered, then Kyna offered an opinion, and soon everyone except Rigel and me began to weigh in on the subject. I didn’t understand a fraction of it, but it was fascinating all the same—when I listened.

“Faxon has postponed elections again,” Mr. Stuart said at one point. “He claims to need more time to recruit polling inspectors, but no one believes that excuse.”

“Isn’t this the third time they’ve been postponed?” Nara asked.

“The fourth,” Kyna said. “They’re six years overdue now. The man is nothing but an
unbaen
—a dictator,” she clarified with a glance at me “—at this point.”

There was a lot more, stuff about eroding the rights of the people and military tribunals and how Faxon and his followers were able to overcome the genetic taboo against killing. They also talked about an underground resistance, and it sounded like everyone present had friends or family who were members. Allister mentioned a sister in the resistance who had been forced to emigrate to Earth less than a year ago to escape Faxon’s purges.

He gave me another one of those odd, probing looks as he spoke and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. Maybe he thought I should be voicing an opinion if I was really who the Stuarts claimed I was? But even though I knew this was all important stuff I should try to learn about, most of the political talk went right over my head.

Which meant I spent most of the meal trying to catch Rigel’s eye further down the table without anyone else noticing—and not having much luck. When would I get that explanation he’d promised, and what was it? This whole not-touching thing was starting to bother me a lot more than I wanted to admit. I tried a little harder to listen to the conversation so I wouldn’t have to think about it.

“Even if we knew how many followers Faxon has here on Earth,” Shim was saying, “we have no way of identifying them. If we could, I’m confident we could persuade them to our cause. Especially now that—” He glanced at me and broke off.

“Can there possibly be more than a handful?” Nara sounded a little fearful. “Once here, away from any risk of reprisal from Faxon’s guard, surely they would revert to a civilized way of thinking.”

One or two of the others nodded, but Mr. Stuart looked skeptical. “Their families on Mars could still be at risk. I wouldn’t be surprised if Faxon has a few hand-picked followers on Earth as spies, since he must know
Echtrans
are in contact with the resistance back there. We’re not nearly as careful as we should be. We’ve grown complacent in our relative safety here.”

There was an uneasy murmur of agreement, then some speculation about who could and couldn’t be trusted. Since I didn’t know any of the names, my attention wandered back to Rigel.

Dessert was mint chocolate chip ice cream, and I was touched that Dr. Stuart obviously remembered it was my favorite from Friday night—and maybe that I hadn’t had a chance to finish the dish I’d ordered then. This time I made a point of eating every bite, since I knew once the meal was over the interrogation would begin again.

Sure enough, the moment the last person—Rigel’s dad—set down his spoon, Kyna said, “Now can we finally get back to the matter at hand?” She looked pointedly at me, then at Shim and Allister.

Dr. Stuart gave a little sigh. “Yes, I suppose we had better. We can have coffee and tea in the living room.” She rose, squeezed my shoulder reassuringly, then went into the kitchen to get it while the rest of us filed out of the dining room.

I was last, hanging back in hopes of getting Rigel alone for a second or two so I could get at least a hint from him, but his grandfather ushered him out of the room ahead of me. I wondered if he’d guessed what I was trying to do.

A couple of minutes later, I was again seated in what I was coming to think of as the Inquisition Chair, with everyone else ranged around me, coffee cups in hand.

“Now, Miss, ah, Truitt.” Allister, the one who intimidated me most, leaned forward. “You say you never had any suspicion that you were anything beyond a
Duchas
, er, native Earthling until these past few weeks?”

I nodded.

“So you never experienced anything unusual, never had any . . . abilities beyond what the other children around you possessed?”

“Abilities?” I wondered what he was getting at. “Not unless you count the static electricity thing.”

His brows went up. “Explain, please.”

So I told him about how I fried computers and cell phones and watches. I didn’t say anything about that jolt Rigel and I had given Bryce Farmer since I wasn’t sure if that was something either of us were supposed to have done. I kept glancing at Rigel as I talked, hoping he’d give me some signal of what I should or shouldn’t say, but with so many people watching, he really couldn’t. So I played it safe.

When I finished, Allister nodded, though he didn’t look completely satisfied. “Bain?” he said.

“Yes. Marsha—or may I call you Emileia?” Bain looked about Mr. Stuart’s age and was nearly—though not quite—as handsome. His smile seemed genuine.

“Um, Marsha is fine, or M—that’s what my closest friends call me.” I shoved away an errant image of Bri.

He nodded. “M, then. How are your grades in school? Any special interests?”

So I talked a little about astronomy and the fact that I was in Honors English, and he seemed pleased that my grades were good. Next he asked several odd questions that seemed like some kind of personality test, then about my life with my aunt and uncle—how they treated me, what my chores were, what our house was like. I couldn’t imagine how any of this was important, but I answered everything truthfully.

After half an hour of this, I could see one or two of the others shifting impatiently in their seats. Finally, Kyna spoke up.

“Is all of this really necessary, Bain? We could be here all night while you dance around the edges of things. Clearly she is of Martian ancestry, is of approximately the right age, and seems mentally balanced. What we need is irrefutable genetic proof.”

“No!” Rigel stood as he spoke, startling me with his sudden forcefulness. “M, you don’t have to let them—”

“Young man,” Allister snapped, “if you want to remain, you will control yourself.”

But Dr. Stuart stood, too. “Rigel is right, Allister. At her age, the traditional test is out of the question—nor is it necessary. We have far less invasive methods now.”

I was really starting to get scared now, but Shim unexpectedly backed her up. “I agree. A standard hair follicle test will tell us unequivocally what we need to know. The ritual, if you still feel it is necessary in this day and age, can be performed once she is an adult.”

Allister was frowning, clearly not convinced. “If we’re counting on this girl—assuming she proves to be the Sovereign—to galvanize the resistance, our case will be far stronger if we can certify that she has passed the
traditional
test. That will bring the staunch royalists on board in a way nothing else could, as well as having a better chance of swaying the skeptics.”

To my dismay, some of the others were nodding in agreement, though Nara commented in a half-whisper, “If the other Royals on the Council hadn’t made excuses not to come tonight, they wouldn’t
be
skeptics!”

Finally, though he didn’t look happy about it, Shim nodded as well. “You make a valid point, Allister. It would strengthen our position and reassure the
entire
Council.” He glanced at Nara. “But by requiring such a thing of a child, do we not risk lowering ourselves to Faxon’s level? It has been a dozen generations since a minor was asked to undergo the ritual. At that time we didn’t have the technology we have now.”

I couldn’t take it anymore. Before they could begin arguing again, I spoke up, a little more loudly than I intended. “Excuse me, but just what
is
this ritual? Can you at least tell me that?”

Shim looked startled, but then he smiled. “Of course. I was forgetting that you wouldn’t know. Though we can now map a complete genome in moments with a skin cell or a hair follicle, in times past we could only do so by drawing blood—something we haven’t had to resort to for generations. It is, however, still a tradition that each new Sovereign be certified the, ah, old-fashioned way.”

“In front of qualified witnesses,” Allister added. “In this case, a four member majority of the
Echtran
Council, as well as two highly ranked
Echtran
scientists.” Then, leaning toward me with a more kindly expression than I’d yet seen him wear, he asked, “Your . . . M, would you be willing to have a small amount of blood drawn for a genetic test?”

Nara made an outraged hiss and Rigel’s parents looked upset, but I nearly collapsed with relief. I’d been expecting something much, much worse.

“Oh. Um, sure. That is, I don’t mind.”

Allister reached inside his jacket and pulled out a small, elaborately enameled metal case, which he handed to Flynn. I tensed again when Flynn opened the case and took out a syringe—not a regular, modern syringe, but an enormous, old-fashioned thing that looked like it came from some mad scientist’s lab.