cannarc (KAN-ark): rebellion; mutiny; resistance
The following day, I discover—no surprise—that everyone at school has now heard about my family leaving Nuath. My friends are about evenly divided between sympathy and envy.
“Oh, wow, I’ve always wanted to see Earth,” Brigid bubbles before Astrophysics class. “The cities are huge compared to ours—so many people! And the planet’s more than half water—can you imagine? Do you think you’ll get to see an ocean?”
I scowl at her. “If it was just a visit, I wouldn’t mind so much. And I doubt we’ll be in an actual city. Mum wants us to move to the same village where the Sovereign grew up. It’s barely bigger than Hollydoon and nowhere near any oceans.”
“Yeah, that’ll suck,” my friend Ros agrees. “You might as well move to a teachneaglis village like Keary if you have to give up recombinators and everything. At least in the cities there’d be cool stuff to see and do, but even those are primitive by our standards.” She shudders.
“The whole dabhal planet is primitive,” I say loudly enough to earn a glare from the teacher. Not only aren’t we supposed to be talking in class, anything we do say in school is supposed to be in Martian—not just the curse words.
Alan is the most understanding, coming over to sit with me at lunch again. “Hey, I just heard. You, too?”
I frown at him. “What do you mean?”
“My folks signed up for Earth, too—I think after talking to yours. Can’t say I’m happy about it, but you—! How can your parents expect you to leave when the Ags are finally in the playoffs?”
“Trust me, I’ve asked them that at least a dozen times. Unfortunately, they’ve never really been into caidpel.”
“Even so.” He shakes his head gloomily. “The Ags won’t have any shot at all at the championship without you. At least I won’t be here to watch us lose. We’re on the Horizon, too, and it launches the same day as our first playoff game.”
Rather than risk him hearing it from someone else, I reluctantly tell Coach the bad news at practice that afternoon.
“What? This close to the playoffs? They can’t do that!”
His outrage gives me a shred of hope. “That’s what I tried to tell them! Can you try to talk them out of it?”
“I’ll do better than that, I’ll take it up with the League. You’re one of my best players—and almost as big an attendance magnet as Brady. At the very least, we need to delay your departure until after the playoffs. Don’t worry, Kira, I’ll take care of it.”
A surge of relief rushes through me. If anyone can talk my parents around, Coach can—especially if he has the Nuathan Caidpel League’s support.
Near the end of practice my hopes are buoyed further. Between drills, Brady whispers, “I talked to Crevan last night. He definitely wants to keep you on board, says you’re too valuable to lose.”
“Yeah? That’s great! Coach promised to help, too.”
“It’ll be fine, Kira. You’ll see.” He gives my shoulder a little squeeze, then sprints off, leaving my spirits even higher than they were after yesterday’s practice.
I’m still feeling upbeat at dinner that night, even when Dad starts talking about all the reading we’re supposed to do before leaving, to prepare us for life on Earth.
“I just took Earth Studies last year,” I remind him. “Nothing will have changed since then, so I shouldn’t need to—”
“I, ah, imagine this will go well beyond what they taught you in school,” Mum says warily—probably because I’ve blown up at her and Dad so many times over the past two days. “We’ll need quite a lot more than basic facts and history to actually live there.”
Not that I expect to need any of it myself. Clinging to the two assurances I received during today’s practice, I just smile and nod. My parents should hear from either Coach or the League tonight or tomorrow.
“Do we get to skip school?” Adina asks. “Reading up on Earth will be way more interesting than dumb Chemistry, and Nuathan history won’t do us much good once we leave.”
“Sorry,” Dad tells her, though with a smile. “You’ll both continue with school until the last few days before launch, though your teachers may allow you to use class time for the reading. There is an orientation session tomorrow afternoon in Cleirach that we’re all expected to attend, but not until the end of your school day.”
“Just the one, right?” I try to keep the alarm out of my voice at the thought of missing a single caidpel practice this close to the playoffs. Especially for some stupid Earth class I won’t even need.
Dad glances at the info on his omni. “There’ll be another the day before we board, then a full training program once we reach Earth. I’m copying the schedule to each of you now, including a link to all of the reading materials.”
My momentary panic subsides. Unless Coach and Crevan Erc both flake out on me, I should have permission to stay in Nuath before that second class.
Since there’s no getting out of that first orientation session, before school the next day I message Coach I’ll be missing practice—and why. I hope it’ll also remind him to follow through on his promise.
I’m not allowed to check my omni again until after school—a rule going back to the Great Unplugging a couple of generations ago—but when I do I’m elated by Coach’s reply.
On it.
Renewed hope makes me almost cheerful when I join my parents and Adina at the zipper station an hour later. Almost.
“Ready to learn about our new home?” Dad’s joviality seems slightly forced but Adina nods eagerly.
“Will we be allowed to ask questions? I want to know what kinds of animals they have in Dun Cloch—that’s where we’re going first, right? That’s what it said in the file.”
Mum smiles at her enthusiasm. “Good for you, Adina, getting a head start. I’m sure they’ll allow questions at the end. I wonder if they can tell us how many will be accepted for Jewel? Maire heard they’ve already received more requests than the Echtran Council is likely to approve.”
“I messaged to ask about that, as I know it’s so important to you, Deirdra,” Dad says. “I was told there will be a selection process, though the specifics are still being worked out.”
“We must all be on our very best behavior, then.” Mum glances pointedly at me.
I shrug. “Hey, I’m more than willing to stay behind if that will improve your odds of being chosen.”
Though she mutters, “Don’t be silly, Kira,” she still looks worried.
Cleirach is just two zipper stops from Hollydoon, so we don’t even bother to find seats. Dad leads the way to the Aquaponic Engineering building, where a large lecture hall has been set aside for the hundred-plus Nuathans expected to board the Horizon six days from now.
“Welcome, everyone,” a tall, thin, redheaded man greets us with what I consider unnecessary enthusiasm. “I’m Willis, under-secretary to the Minister of Terran Relations. On behalf of Sovereign Emileia, allow me to congratulate you all on the exceptional bravery and patriotism you’ve shown by volunteering to emigrate to Earth. Today I’ll be sharing a few basics that we hope will make your transition not only easier, but downright enjoyable.”
I manage not to snicker and roll my eyes, limiting myself to a barely-audible huff that’s still enough to earn me a quick glare and head-shake from Dad. Mum and Adina, hanging on the instructor’s every word, don’t notice.
“Now, if you’ll all open your readers to the first file in your emigration packet, the one titled “Earth Basics,” we’ll begin.”
Half an hour later, it’s all I can do to stay awake. Nothing this guy is telling us goes beyond what I learned last year. I can’t believe I’m missing caidpel practice for this. To console myself, I angle my reader so neither of my parents can see it and pull up this season’s playbook, since this class is clearly intended for people who’ve either never taken or completely forgotten Earth Studies.
I look up occasionally, paying just enough attention to be sure I’m not missing anything important. I’m not. But from the way Mum and Adina chatter as we leave the lecture hall two hours later, you’d think Willis had just unlocked the mysteries of the universe.
“Did you hear what he said about all the different animals Earth farmers raise?” Adina’s practically squirming with excitement. “Not just sheep and chickens, like here, but cows, pigs, geese, even rabbits! I’ve never even SEEN a goose or a rabbit.”
“You know they’re mostly raised for slaughter, right?” I tell her, stifling a twinge of guilt when her face falls. “They haven’t figured out how to synthesize meat yet, so they have to kill it themselves.”
“Kira!” Mum admonishes me, though she has to know I’m right. “It’s not the Duchas’ fault they’re behind us technologically. Our ancestors on Mars did the same, as you know perfectly well.”
I lift a shoulder. “But we evolved beyond it. Adina might as well know the truth now—better than being blindsided once there’s no turning back.”
“We…we won’t have to kill any animals ourselves, will we?” My sister still looks distressed.
“Of course not.” Dad shoots me a frown. “Jewel, where we’re hoping to settle, specializes in crops, not animals. It should be a good fit for Agriculturals like us.”
“That’s right.” Mum smiles reassuringly at Adina. “Corn, mostly, and soybeans. I’ve been reading up on Jewel. If you prefer, you can become a vegetarian once we move to Earth—it’s not that uncommon.”
Adina relaxes. “I…I think I might be okay eating fish, at least. They’re not very smart, and not cuddly at all.”
The moment we and our classmates step outside the Aquaponic Engineering building, we’re pounced on by three different news crews from the feeds.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” a reporter asks the woman in front of us. “Can you tell us what prompted you to heed the Sovereign’s call for emigration? Was it a difficult decision to make?”
The woman starts to stammer an answer while the other reporters converge on the rest of us.
“Sir, will this be your family’s first trip Earth?” a woman asks my father. It’s Moya, from the Nuathan News Network.
“Yes. We’re all very excited.” I notice he carefully doesn’t look at me as he says that.
“And how do they—?” she begins, turning toward Adina and me, then does a little double-take. “Isn’t this… Aren’t you Kira Morain, the caidpel player?”
I nod cautiously. “These are my parents.”
Now her eyes positively gleam at having stumbled onto a bigger story than she expected. “Are they? You both must be very proud of your daughter and her team. Is Kira going with you?”
“Yes. Yes, she is,” Dad says firmly before I can so much as hint otherwise.
“I see. Kira, surely you must have a few qualms about leaving Nuath just as the playoffs begin?”
Again, Dad replies before I can. “Our whole family feels strongly that our duty to Nuath outweighs any mere sporting event. Don’t we?”
He pins me with a stern look until I reluctantly give a grudging nod. I don’t dare open my mouth for fear of what might spill out.
“How very commendable,” Moya gushes, favoring us all with a brilliant smile. “I’m sure your example will motivate others to step up as well. The Sovereign must be very pleased.”
She moves on then, but before we even reach the zipper station Dad gets a message from Moya asking if she can contact him later for a few follow-up questions. After a quick consultation with Mum, he says that will be fine.
Efrin, I think as we board the zipper back to Hollydoon. If the feeds run that story, it’ll be harder than ever to convince my parents to let me stay on Mars. They’ll claim our whole family will look bad if I don’t go to Earth with them now.
Sure enough, Moya’s interview with my dad is already playing on the news by the time we finish dinner that night. When I arrive for practice the next afternoon, Coach gets in my face before I even reach the equipment bins.
“I thought you wanted to help us win the playoffs?” he practically snarls. “Now it’s all over the feeds you’re emigrating to Earth. They’re making you look like some kind of hero for leaving us in the lurch!”
“That wasn’t my fault!” I protest, stung. “I didn’t say anything at all to that reporter, it was just my dad. I guess you never called him, like you said you would?”
That stops Coach in mid-tirade. “I…was going to do it tomorrow,” he grumbles. “I’ve been busy. Then I saw that story on the feeds and—”
“You’ll still talk to them, won’t you, Coach?” I try not to sound as desperate as I feel. “Please?”
“I’ll never get the League behind me now.” He glares at me from under his heavy brows, then shrugs. “I…guess I can look up a few things tonight. Maybe come up with an argument for keeping you here that won’t make me sound like a traitor.”
But I can tell he really doesn’t want to now. “That’s a great idea, Coach!” I force more enthusiasm than I feel into my voice. “I’ll keep talking to them, too. I promise the last thing I want to do is hurt the team’s chances of winning!”
He just nods morosely and waves me onto the field. Grabbing my camman from the rack, I sprint off, trying to ignore the heavy knot in my stomach.
Instead of drills, Coach has us play twelve-a-side against each other, like a real match, so we can practice various plays in sequence. I’m glad now I took that time yesterday to review the playbook instead of paying attention in that stupid class.
“You played great today,” Leitis says with a grin when the final whistle blows. “I sure hope Coach can keep you around.”
“I guess everyone knows now?”
She nods. “Coach told us after yesterday’s practice, then there was that bit on the news. Coach was…” She hesitates. “I’m sure he’ll be able to fix it so you can stay, though. I mean, this would be an awful time for you to leave, with the playoffs so close. Especially now that you and Brady are—” Breaking off, Leitis glances behind me. “Oops. Later!”
Sure enough, when I turn around, Brady is approaching. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“Missed you at practice yesterday.”
He’s not specific whether he missed me or everyone did. I don’t ask. “Yeah. My family had to go to a stupid class for emigrants. You wouldn’t believe how lame it was. I mostly studied the playbook instead.”
“It showed.” He grins down at me. “You looked good today. Anyway, I wanted to tell you Crevan might be contacting you in a day or two.”
I huff out a cautiously relieved breath. “Does that mean he’s figured out a way to keep me here? Coach said he’d take care of it, but…now I’m not so sure.”
“Hey, it’ll work out one way or another. Try not to worry, okay?”
Not quite the reassurance I was hoping for. “Okay.”
“Good girl.”
I half expect him to touch me again, like he did last practice, and at the zipper station in Monaru, but he doesn’t. He just gives me another bracing grin before going to turn in his equipment. I wait several seconds before following.
I don’t sleep well that night. In the morning, I ask Dad over breakfast if he’s heard anything from my caidpel coach.
“Yes, I had a message from him late last night, saying what a loss you’ll be to the team. He also sent links to some articles extolling the virtues of the sport, but I haven’t had time to read them yet.”
I have trouble swallowing the bite of scrambled egg I just put in my mouth. “He didn’t…didn’t say anything about me staying in Nuath through the playoffs? I thought—”
“Oh, I’m sure he’d prefer that, but he must know it’s impossible at this point. Really, Kira, you need to start looking forward, not back. Our futures lie on Earth—not only ours, but nearly all Nuathans. You’re a smart enough girl to understand it’s the only way for our people to survive.”
That afternoon I make the mistake of stopping by home to drop off my school bag and change before practice, which gives Mum a chance to waylay me before I can leave again.
“You should spend the afternoon sorting through your things, Kira,” she tells me. “We can only bring two bags apiece, you know, and we leave in just five days.”
“I know. I’ll do it when I get back.”
Mum’s still frowning, though. “I don’t understand why you need to practice anyway. You’ve said yourself that no one plays caidpel on Earth, and we’ll be gone before your next game.”
I huff out a breath. “Yeah, thanks for reminding me. You do realize that besides the fifty sochar I get for the first playoff game, they pay us a whole lot more if the Ags win the tournament. Isn’t that worth waiting for, even if you’re determined to move us all to Earth after—”
“We’ve been through this, Kira.” She sounds exasperated now. “Nuathan sochar won’t be of any benefit on Earth anyway.”
They’ll sure benefit me if I stay behind, though. “Right. Okay. Just…let me play while I can, okay?”
Immediately, Mum’s expression becomes sympathetic. “Of course, dear. Go have fun.”
But fun is the last thing on my mind when I head to Newlyn for practice. With time getting so short, I’m absolutely determined to pin down both Coach and Brady before I leave today.
Unfortunately, thanks to Mum, practice has already started when I arrive. The coach just waves me to my position, giving me no chance to ask again about him talking to my parents. Then he spends our one break deep in conversation with the two assistant coaches. At that point I look around for Brady, hoping maybe I can get info from him, at least, but he’s joking around with several other guys on the team, not even looking my way.
The moment practice ends, I hurry over to the coach. Before I reach him, he motions to me and I break into a trot.
“You have news for me?” I ask breathlessly…hopefully.
His sad smile answers me even before he speaks. “Sorry, Kira. I was hoping to keep you but with the playoffs looming I couldn’t afford to gamble on that. We’ve just recruited Bailecuinn’s top all-male player and I’m promoting Kinnard to your position. He’s not as good as you are, of course, but…I had no choice. I really am sorry.”
He seems to mean it, but it doesn’t lighten the weight that just landed in my stomach. Using every ounce of my will, I hold back the tears threatening to spill over.
“I…I understand.” I can’t keep my voice from breaking a little. “Thanks, Coach.” I turn quickly away, not sure how much longer my control will last. Brady, I notice, is already turning in his equipment. Like earlier, he doesn’t look my way.
Which must mean he doesn’t have any good news for me, either.
Feeling empty and useless, I head for the zippers.