Starbound: A Starstruck Novel (20 page)

“You don’t seem very keen on that dinner.” Rigel glanced at me in concern as we entered the suite, no doubt picking up on my emotions even more than my expression. “You don’t
have
to go, you know.”

I shrugged. “It probably won’t be much fun, but it’ll be good practice for Mars. There’ll probably be lots of formal dinners once we get there.”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “Good practice for me, too.”

“And me,” Molly chimed in. “Come on, let’s go pick out the perfect outfit for you.” She was clearly looking forward to tonight a lot more than I was.

fasneis
(FAHSH-ness):
information; intelligence

“You might as well take a nap or something, Rigel. This may take a while,” Molly said, dragging me into my bedroom and practically skipping into my huge closet. “This will be so awesome,” she gushed from its depths. “How cool is it that everything in here is your size? I can’t wait to dress you properly!”

Actually, it creeped me out a little that somebody, maybe a whole lot of somebodies, already knew my exact size. Mostly, though, I was just frustrated by yet another delay when I’d finally made up my mind to tell Rigel the whole truth.
 

“What, I’ve been dressing like a slob all this time?” I was irked enough to ask.

“Of course not! It’s just—” Molly glanced over her shoulder and clearly decided I was teasing. “Okay, fine. You got me. Here, try these together.”
 

By the time Molly had absolutely everything picked out for both of us, Rigel had disappeared into his room. I reached out for his mind, hoping he was still awake, but either he wasn’t or a single door on this ship was enough to block our telepathy. I could have shaken Molly for taking so long.
 

I passed the time until Rigel woke studying recent Martian history, now that my little epiphany in Steerage had pointed up that gap in my education. Unfortunately, while my book-scroll contained a couple of accounts by Royals who’d escaped to Earth, there was nothing at all from the perspective of Faxon’s supporters. Mr. O’Gara might be able to tell me more, since he’d actually been there, but he probably held the same views as the Royals who’d written these memoirs.
 

The
Quintessence
archives weren’t much better. Though the search function put Google to shame, I found almost nothing about Faxon’s rise to power. Even when I dug through old news articles from Mars, I couldn’t find any—at all—from the year immediately before or after Faxon’s coup. Weird. Did he have them all destroyed? Or did someone else, later?

When Rigel finally emerged from his room and I broke off my mostly-fruitless search. “Good nap?”
 

“I guess,” he grumped.
Why haven’t you been answering? I figured if I stayed in my room a while, we could talk without Molly noticing.

I tried to talk to you, too. Something in these walls must be blocking us.

Great. Perfect.
Then, aloud, “What did I miss?”

“M playing on the data console.” Molly, on the couch, looked up from her book. “And grumbling.”

I shrugged. “Trying to find out exactly what led up to Faxon’s coup, but there’s nothing to find.”

“Huh.” Rigel didn’t seem nearly as bothered by that as I was.
So what is it you need to tell me?

Before I could even start to answer such a complicated question, Molly jumped up. “Oh, wow, look how late it is! Time to get you dressed, M, and me, too. C’mon!”

It may be too complicated to explain this way at all, even if there was time. I wish we could talk privately for real!
Especially since I didn’t dare tell him about the Grentl, even silently, where Molly or the cameras might notice his reaction.

Reaction to what?
he asked as I reluctantly followed Molly into my bedroom.
 

All the stuff I need to tell you. If I ever get a chance!
 

Can’t you just—
My bedroom door slid shut, cutting him off mid-thought and making me want to scream.

Twenty minutes later, though, I briefly forgot my frustration as I twirled in front of the mirror. For the first time since learning my status last fall, I felt like a real princess, decked out in a floaty lavender and silver dress. I also wore a necklace that looked like real diamonds—I hoped not—and a matching, tiny tiara Molly claimed my rank demanded. I’d have argued if I hadn’t seen historical pictures that backed her up.
 

“If they didn’t fit perfectly, I’d never believe all these clothes are for me.” I looked over my shoulder at the swirl of the skirt behind me. “Do you think I’ll get to keep them? On Mars, I mean. I can’t very well take them home to Jewel.”

“Yeah, your aunt would definitely freak. She’d think we bought them for you and want to pay us or something.”
 

“You look great, too.” I nodded at her blue dress trimmed in white.

Grinning, she twirled. “One of the perks of being the Sovereign’s Handmaid. My wardrobe isn’t as grand as yours, of course, but it’s nicer than anything I’ve ever had.”

Opening the door to the main area, Molly called out, “Rigel, come see how gorgeous she looks!”

He appeared, one eyebrow raised. “Coming into your room won’t seem too…familiar?”

“I’m in here, too,” Molly pointed out.

“Anyway, it’s a little late to worry about that,” I added. “If anybody actually looks at the recordings, I mean.” Which suddenly gave me an idea.

 
Molly gestured toward me. “So what do you think?”
 

“That she’s even more beautiful than usual.” Rigel’s words were accompanied by a wash of appreciation, love and desire—and a wariness that surprised me.

What’s wrong?
 

He answered out loud. “You’re a little intimidating. So, well, regal. But I guess that’s a good thing. Got to impress the other Royals, convince them you’re up to the task and all.”

“I don’t want to intimidate
you,
though.”
Ever,
I added silently, sending all the love I could back at him. “Anyway, it’s just for tonight.” Except we both knew that wasn’t really true.

At seven o’clock we went across the hall, where Captain Liam himself answered the door chime, greeting me with a deep bow before ushering us inside. His quarters were nearly as posh as mine, though his smaller living room was currently dominated by a long dining table.
 

“I am honored that you were able to accept my invitation, Excellency. The others will be here shortly, so please make yourself comfortable.”

In fact it was only seconds before the other Royals arrived, escorted by Commander Donia, the woman I recalled was the ship’s First Officer. Each politely bowed to me on entering and I responded with the proper nod. During the small talk that followed, Rigel silently reminded me to use my new emotion-sensing thing this evening.

I’ll do my best,
I thought back, pinning what I hoped was a graciously regal smile on my face as I returned Annwyn’s polite query about my day. I was relieved to feel nothing from her but cautious respect.
 

Gordon was another matter. Though he wore an ingratiating smile, I distinctly perceived hostility and resentment along with that faint bad-guy vibe. Not surprising, if he wanted to become leader of Nuath or hoped Devyn would, but it rattled me to sense it so strongly.

“It is good to see you again, Princess. I must say I commend your willingness to attempt such a burdensome role, given your youth and inexperience.” His glance darted to Rigel and Molly, hovering behind me. “No doubt once you reach Nuath, you will be able to find attendants more, ah, befitting your rank, who can be of more use to you.”

I carefully raised one eyebrow, which isn’t as easy as it sounds. “Thank you for your concern, Gordon, but I’m perfectly happy with the ones I have,” I told him—told all of them—in no uncertain terms.

“Well said, Princess,” Devyn said with another smooth bow. “Your loyalty to those who have rendered you service is admirable.”
 

His were the emotions I most wanted to probe, but what I sensed surprised me. I didn’t feel anything negative from him at all—no resentment or jealousy, no hint of deceit or even irritation. In fact, something about his voice, expression and vibe made me instinctively want to trust him. Huh.

I smiled, inclining my head in response to his bow. “Thank you. I appreciate your support.”

Even that didn’t trigger any emotional reaction that I could perceive. Interesting.

“Shall we eat?” Captain Liam suggested then and we all moved to the table, formally set for eleven.
 

My special orchid-adorned finger bowl was at one end and the Captain headed to the chair at the other. As I moved to my place, I did a quick count of those present and came up with fourteen. My momentary confusion was cleared up when Commander Donia excused herself to go up to the Bridge and I belatedly remembered that Rigel and Molly weren’t allowed to sit down. Which sucked. I should have made them both eat something before coming here.
 

It’s okay, really,
Rigel assured me but I still felt guilty for not thinking ahead. They’d have done it for me.

“You look amazing tonight,” Sean murmured as he stepped up to pull out my chair.
 

I smiled my thanks, trying to ignore the spurt of jealousy I felt from Rigel along with the little tingle I got when Sean’s fingers brushed my arm. Once I was seated the others followed suit, then we went through the silly finger bowl ritual.
 

Finally, at the Captain’s signal, the food was brought in. Whether because my own hunger was augmented by Rigel’s, or because I was still irritated by what Gordon had said earlier, once Rigel had tasted my food and Molly had served it to me, I cleared my throat. Every eye turned my way.

“I realize it’s traditional for my Bodyguard and Handmaid to stand behind me for the whole meal and not eat till we’re finished, but that custom seems very awkward and elitist to me. I may have been born on Mars, but I was raised an American. Besides, Molly is a good friend and I owe Rigel my life several times over. Would anyone object to them sitting down and eating dinner with the rest of us?”

Most of the Royals looked scandalized and Sean, of course, glowered. But the Captain, I thought, looked both surprised and rather approving.
 

“If it is your wish, Excellency, then of course two more places will be set at once.” He nodded to one of the people who’d brought the food and a moment later an extra plate and chair was added on either side of the Captain—the only other non-Royal at the table.
 

Phelan, the first Royal to recover, sent me a wide smile. “I heard in Bailerealta that you were extremely gracious, Excellency. I see it’s true.”
 

I smiled back gratefully, but saw Gordon’s eyes narrow speculatively and suddenly remembered him talking with Brenna at lunch today. I wondered, too late, if my impulsive request might have added fodder to any rumors about Rigel and me.

Hope not,
Rigel thought to me.
I appreciate it, anyway. I was starving.
 

That made me feel better. Though I was careful not to look at him, I sent him a silent
Thanks
.

Not to be outdone by Phelan, Irving spoke up. “I noticed you were reading earlier, Excellency. It’s quite commendable that you are not letting the distraction of your first space flight interfere with your studies.”

“Thank you.” I was grateful for the change of subject. “What with all of our preparations for this trip, I had less time than usual for reading before we left.” Even as I spoke, I realized this was a perfect opportunity to fill in those frustrating blanks in today’s research.
 

“I’m currently trying to catch up on recent Martian history, but I can’t find much on the beginning of Faxon’s dictatorship. Does anyone know why? Most of you were on Mars back then, weren’t you?”
 

“I believe all of us were,” Phelan said as the others nodded. “Except perhaps Captain Liam?”

“I was off-planet for the actual coup, but I well remember the situation before and after.” The Captain gave me a rueful smile. “I apologize for the spotty nature of the
Quintessence
archives, Excellency. The truth is, very little documentation exists about that time, either on Earth or Mars.”

Mr. O’Gara confirmed that. “Once Faxon took power, he ordered anything critical of him wiped from all databases. He even had software designed to enforce it—data worms that proliferated throughout the colony-wide network, eating virtually every reference to him. A few articles and accounts were preserved on hard copy and squirreled away, but they won’t have made it into any texts yet.”

“But what about the pro-Faxon stuff?” I glanced around at them all. “If he was controlling the media, didn’t he have them publish biased reports? Fake polls and studies?”

A few sets of eyebrows went up with what seemed to be grudging respect. “Very true, Excellency,” Phelan said. “For most of his reign, news stories came out almost daily reporting how much better off the citizenry was under his rule, with fabricated statistics to back them up. At first most people accepted the stories at face value, but over time it became apparent that the news was distinctly at odds with reality.”

“Right.” Captain Liam looked troubled at the memory. “I heard story after story from those I, ah, smuggled to Earth during the years after Faxon took over. Disappearances and even executions covered up, falsified supply manifests showing two or three times the goods and food actually in the storehouses, even articles claiming a growing threat from Earth, when it was clear to anyone who’d been there that the
Duchas
are still completely unaware of us.”

A few more such examples were thrown out by the others, their remembered indignation clear.
 

“But after he was ousted, those false stories were wiped from the data banks as well,” Devyn concluded. “So it’s not surprising you found little about that time in the
Quintessence
archives, or anywhere else.”