Coronation: A Kid Sensation Novel (Kid Sensation #5) (5 page)

Although surprised, it was with no small amount of relief that I realized that it was the young woman – not the mean-spirited, old shrew – who was actually my grandmother. On her part, Fesinin (who, it turns out, was more like my grandmother’s fourth cousin) seemed disturbed that the familial relationship was not more distant. Her response to Indigo’s introduction of me was a soft grunt of acknowledgment, and then she bade my grandmother a hasty goodbye and left.

As the door closed behind Fesinin, I glanced around diffidently, essentially avoiding eye contact with my grandmother (who, I could sense, was still smiling). After the reaction I’d gotten from her cousin, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect – or what was expected of me.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” Indigo said after a few seconds, her voice still full of merriment. “Come give me a hug.”

I shambled forward as she simultaneously moved towards me with arms outstretched. Timidly, I put my arms around her as she embraced me at the same time. It was awkward only for a moment, and then…it just felt natural – a grandparent and grandchild sharing a touching moment.

That said, her hug was fierce, showing an unexpected strength that belied her appearance. At the same time, I felt a spate of cogent love and towering affection flowing from my grandmother like a deluge. I realized then that she wasn’t just hugging
me
, in this moment; she was also hugging my grandfather through the decades of her absence, and my mother whom she never truly got to nurture.

We stood there for maybe thirty seconds (although it seemed much longer), and then my grandmother gave me a peck on the cheek and took a step back.

“Now,” she said, holding me at arm’s length, “let me have a look at you.”

I stood still as she looked me up and down. Her eyes then darted about my face, seeming to study everything: my eyes, nose, chin, lips…

“I see much of your grandfather in you,” she finally said.

I gave her a bright smile. “Thank you.”

“Your father as well,” she added, to which I replied with only an affirmative grunt.

“And me?” Indigo asked. “Am I what you expected?”

“Clearly not,” I answered, “since I confused you with sweet, adorable Fesinin.”

That caused another peal of laughter to ring out from my grandmother. “Yes, we are not quite as affectionate as the people of Earth, but even among Caelesians, Fesinin is known as something of a” – she tilted her head to the side for a moment, searching for the right phrase – “cold fish.”

I laughed, as her use of the idiom was spot-on, in my opinion.

“Also,” she went on, “it seems that no one told you about Caelesian lifespans. We live about five times as long as Earthlings.”

I nodded; that certainly explained a lot (such as why my own mother looked far younger than her actual age).

“Wait a minute,” I said, eyes narrowing. “Did Gramps know that?”

“Gramps?” she repeated, looking a little confused. Then understanding dawned on her. “Oh. You mean John. Yes, he knew that I would age far slower than he would. But it didn’t matter to us.”

“No?” I asked, surprised. “Then wh–”

She laughed, cutting me off. “I know you must have questions, and I promise to answer them all. But first, I think you have something for me.”

I frowned; I had no idea what she was talking about, so I waited for her to explain. Instead, she gently raised a hand to my temple, then closed her eyes. Telepathically, I felt her reaching inside my mind, gently searching for something. Mildly wary, I lowered my mental defenses, letting her in. After that, it took her scant seconds to find what she was looking for: the mental balloon that had been expanding in my brain. Like a skilled surgeon, she gently excised it from my mind. At the same time, I felt the pressure that had been building up in my head dissipate, and I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding.

I understood then what the balloon was: an encapsulated message, presumably from my grandfather. He had used me to convey a communiqué to her across space.

Eyes still closed, my grandmother seemed to sway for a moment. I reached over and grabbed her arm to steady her.

“Thank you,” she said, her eyes flickering open briefly.

Looking around the room, I spied a couch that looked comfortable and began guiding her towards it. Once we reached it, she didn’t need much urging to take a seat. Pulling up a nearby chair, I sat down in front of her, ready to catch her should she start to fall.

My grandmother simply sat there, eyes still shuttered. For the next thirty minutes, I was privy to an odd showcase of affectivity, as Indigo seemed to flit through a gamut of emotions – occasionally laughing, sometimes crying, frowning in displeasure one moment, gasping in surprise the next.

I understood what was happening. Gramps hadn’t merely used me to ferry a simple missive to his long-absent wife; his message had contained decades of memories, thoughts, and feelings in a compressed form, which were now washing over my grandmother like a deluge.

After about half an hour, the emotional roller coaster my grandmother was on slowly ground to a halt as she came back to herself. Still, she sat there quietly for several minutes afterwards, staring into space and wiping away a few last tears. Once or twice, I saw her eyes flash a soft violet, indicating sadness or melancholy. I simply sat there quietly, waiting until she felt ready to speak again.

At long last, she drew in a deep breath, and then let it out slowly as she turned towards me.

“I’m sorry,” she said, wiping away a final tear. “I should have more control than that.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “There’s no shame in crying after what you just experienced.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s not the tears. I’m fine with crying. It’s my eyes – I shouldn’t let them display my emotions so blatantly.”

I nodded in understanding. The eyes of Caelesians change color to reflect their mood. However, most are able to suppress the effect. In fact, until my encounter with Fesinin, I had practically forgotten that it was a feature of their biology because I had so seldom seen it happen since leaving Earth.

“So how long does it take to learn to control that ability?” I asked.

“What, our eyes? Most Caelesians learn to do so at a very early age – especially members of the Royal House. It’s of little benefit to have others constantly able to read you because of an involuntary display of emotion.”

“But Mom isn’t able to do it.”

“Because there was no one there to teach her, and it’s one of the things that saddens me.” She suddenly looked both downcast and pensive. “I wasn’t there for her, my little Geneva. There’s so much that I’ve missed.”

I reached out and gently placed my hand on hers. “It’s okay. Mom doesn’t hold anything against you, or blame you in any way.”

“I know. She told me.”

I sat straight up, taken completely by surprise. “She told you? How–”

I stopped before I could complete the question, the answer coming to me almost unbidden.

“The message in my head,” I concluded. “It wasn’t just from Gramps. Mom stuck something in there, too.”

Indigo smiled. “Very good. You have impressive instincts.”

“I don’t understand,” I said, shaking my head. “Why didn’t Mom and Gramps just tell me what they were doing?”

“Probably because there were things in their messages of a very personal nature. Things only meant to be shared between husband and wife, between mother and daughter.”

“But I wouldn’t have looked,” I insisted.

“Of course not,” Indigo agreed. “At least not intentionally.”

I concentrated, trying to make sense of my grandmother’s words. “Are you saying that somehow I could have
un
intentionally gained access to the messages meant for you?”

“You have a strong mind and powerful telepathic abilities,” Indigo said, giving me a frank stare. “Had you known about them, you could possibly have subconsciously pecked at the memory capsules until they revealed their contents. As it was, you had already worn the mental covering on them thin.”

“Not intentionally,” I stressed. “I was just trying to figure out what this odd sensation was in my head.”

“Well, no harm done,” she said with a smile.

“How’d you even know they were there?” I asked. As before, the answer came to me almost intuitively. “Of course: you guys have done this before.”

Indigo laughed. “Yes, me and your grandfather, but obviously not in a long time. Apparently it’s a skill your mother picked up as well.”

She left the rest unstated, but I knew the question she wanted to ask: why wasn’t this something I knew how to do as well? Or maybe she already knew the answer and was simply being politic.

In truth, while I am a telepath, there are limits to what I can do on that front. Specifically, while I can scan surface thoughts easily, I can’t plumb the depths of another person’s brain. That being the case, it rules out the ability to plant a mental memory capsule deeply in someone else’s mind.

“John did well with my little Geneva,” Indigo said, interrupting my thoughts. “You, too. I so wish I could have been a part of things.”

There was silence for a moment, and then I asked the question that three generations of my family – my grandfather, my mother, and me – wanted the answer to: “Why did you leave?”

Indigo lowered her eyes and let out a long sigh before stating plainly, “My mother died.”

I’m sure the shock must have shown on my face, and I found myself starting to stammer through an apology and offer my condolences.

“It’s okay,” my grandmother said, gently patting me on the wrist. “It was a long time ago.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“There was an explosion. It wasn’t clear whether it was an accident or intentional. Regardless, my mother’s people were livid and considered it an act of war.”

“Hold on,” I said, plainly confused. “Your mother’s ‘people’? Your mother wasn’t Caelesian?”

Indigo seemed to ponder this for a moment, which struck me as odd because it seemed like a rather straightforward question, much along the lines of
Do you own a dog?
There’s nothing tricky about it; either you do or you don’t.

“Hmmm,” my grandmother intoned. “I suppose the answer to your question is both ‘Yes’
and
‘No.’”

I shook my head, nonplussed. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“We Caelesians are a mighty people, but we are far from being the only interstellar empire. One of those that rivals us in both power and scope is my mother’s people, the Fleodin, who hail from a distant star system but happen to be genetically identical to Caelesians.”

“Genetically identical? How is that possible?”

“We believe their society to have arisen from one of our long-lost colonies in the far past. On their part, my mother’s people believe the same of us. As a result, there have been several ‘Reunification Wars,’ and every few generations some new skirmish seems to break out.”

“I suppose a peace treaty is out of the question?”

“Going back to the first Reunification War, both sides have eventually sought peace with respect to almost every conflict, but through intermarriage rather than a formal document.”

“What?” I uttered, slightly taken aback. “That seems a little medieval.”

Indigo smiled. “Much as in Earth culture, it has proven effective on multiple occasions.”

I still had trouble believing that this was the best way for warring opponents from technologically advanced cultures to achieve peace. “How exactly does it work?”

“A high-ranking female from one side is allowed to choose a husband from the other. We typically alternate which empire the woman comes from, and she is normally expected to make her decision within a year, as measured by her home culture. After the marriage, she lives in the empire from which her spouse hails.”

“And so your mother came to Caeles, chose your father as a spouse, and settled into domestic bliss.”

“Not exactly,” my grandmother said with a giggle. “Initially, my father wasn’t interested in her in the slightest, even though such ‘Peace Brides,’ as they are called, are much coveted.”

“Why is that?”

“Because they are usually very beautiful, come from powerful families, and bring a rich dowry – not to mention useful connections and contacts within the Fleodin Demesne.”

“So what happened? Did she eventually win your father over?”

“Not prior to the marriage, no. But the law gave her the right to choose her husband so he had no choice, although her selection was a bit of a shock. Because she was from the Fleodin’s ruling clan, it was highly expected that she would choose an eligible male from the queen’s immediate family. When she announced my father as her betrothed, there were many who viewed it as a personal slight. There were rumors that some of the offended swore revenge…”

“Which is why you think her death may not have been an accident.”

Indigo shrugged. “There were numerous reasons why someone could have wanted her eliminated. The death of a Peace Bride by anything other than natural causes can start a war, and there are many who see wide-scale conflict as a way to advance their own economic, political, or personal agendas.”

Her eyes weren’t flashing any telltale colors, but my empathic senses told me this was not a subject my grandmother cared much for. Still, I had questions, and she had invited me to ask them.

“So,” I said, choosing my words carefully, “you came back for your mother’s funeral?”

She shook her head. “Not per se. I was actually ordered back to broker peace.”

“Ordered?”

“Yes, by royal edict. As I mentioned, my mother’s family rules the Fleodin Demesne. Her death was viewed by them as an act of aggression, and they began preparing for all-out war. As her daughter, I was asked to reason with my Fleodin relatives and convince them that armed conflict was not the solution.”

“I take it you were successful.”

“Yes, I eventually got the Fleodins to stand down. Afterwards, I made plans to return to Earth, but was delayed by an attempt on my life.”

“What?!” I screeched, the shock plainly evident on my face. “Someone tried to kill you?!”

She nodded. “More than once, I’m afraid. More to the point, my Fleodin relatives found out and made it clear that if anything happened to me – regardless of the circumstances – full-blown war would be inevitable. They had already lost my mother; they were not going to stand idly by if they lost me as well.”

“So what happened?”

“It was felt that allowing me to return to Earth was too risky. Trying to protect me so far away from Caeles offered unique challenges, not to mention the fact that being part of the Alpha League meant that I was regularly putting myself in harm’s way. I was ordered to remain on Caeles indefinitely.”

“So you’re a prisoner here, on the homeworld?”

“Not exactly. Returning to Earth is completely out of the question, but – with special permission – I can travel anywhere within the Caelesian Empire.”

“That’s still being in prison,” I countered. “It’s just a larger cell.”

My grandmother let out a long sigh. “You have to understand, I was the only thing standing between peace and interstellar war. Despite decades without conflict, I probably still am.”

I frowned, trying to absorb everything Indigo was saying. “I’m sorry, but this is the first time I’m hearing all this stuff, and it’s a lot to digest. All Gramps ever said was that there was an emergency back home that required your presence. He never gave me the details.”

“That’s because he didn’t know,” my grandmother stated. “Like you, all I got was the order to return to Caeles. I could glean that there was some kind of emergency, but I didn’t learn any specifics until I arrived here.”

“That brings up a good point,” I said, subtly changing the subject. “Why, exactly, was I sent for?”

My grandmother pursed her lips for a moment, and then said, “The answer’s a little complicated. First, though, how much do you know about the Caelesian Royal House and succession to the throne?”

*****

My knowledge of the Royal House was limited to a two-week crash course that I’d been given under the tutelage of Sloe during our journey from Earth. That said, I like to think that Sloe had been a knowledgeable instructor, and I had been an apt pupil.

The Royal House of Caeles was actually split into ten different lines, each descended from one of the ten children of an ancient monarch known as Plavicre the Glorious. (Truth be told, he’d actually had about a million epithets: Plavicre the Great, Plavicre the Wise, Plavicre the Brave, and so on.) My family claimed descent from the Third Royal Matrilineal branch – Plavicre’s third daughter.

Plavicre himself had been the heir, though not the son, of the much-revered First King of Caeles. (Historians believed the two were definitely related in some way, although the exact nature of the relationship was unknown.) This had started a tradition whereby the Caelesian throne was no longer inheritable. Instead, the reigning monarch was given the discretion of naming his or her successor.

The intent was that sovereignty – rather than being determined by fate and the randomness of one’s birth – be based on an individual’s actual ability to govern. In practice, however, it was not unusual for a sitting king or queen to choose as their successor one of their own children, grandchildren, or so forth. To curb this nepotism and its effects, the law stated that no more than three consecutive monarchs could come from the same line of the Royal House.

To further complicate matters, inheritance
within
the ten royal branches was based on a type of cognatic primogeniture: males received preference, with females inheriting titles and such only when no eligible males remained. Thus, if the ranking patriarch of, say, the First Royal Patrilineal branch, died, his eldest son would inherit his title and position. If he had no sons or direct male heirs, then his eldest daughter would succeed him, and so on.

I explained all of this to my grandmother, hoping that I hadn’t misstated anything. (I could have shared it with her more easily via telepathy, but she had nixed the idea. Apparently, some of the memories from Gramps and Mom were still lingering, so I could understand her not wanting another person running around in her head.) She nodded sagaciously as I finished my narrative.

“Very good,” she said. “You have an excellent grasp of the basic facts.”

“Thanks,” I said. “But I still don’t understand how this relates to my having to come here.”

“I can explain, but I need to give you some background so you can understand the context.”

“Please do.”

My grandmother nodded, looking wistful for a moment – as if she didn’t know where to begin. Then a look of resolve came over her face.

“The current monarch, Queen Dornoccia, has ruled for about three hundred of your years,” she said. “It is one of the longest reigns in recent memory, probably buttressed by the fact that she came to the throne at a young age. However, despite being in fine physical condition and quite likely having decades of good health ahead of her, she’s being pressured to select a successor.”

“Pressured?” I asked, surprised. “What do you mean, ‘pressured’? Who pressures a queen?”

“On Earth, the most powerful person on the planet, politically, is your country’s president. However, even he generally needs the support of allies to achieve his goals. The same is true of the queen of Caeles.”

“I get it,” I said, nodding. “Being queen does not mean being all-powerful.”

“Indeed. And even if she were, the empire is far too vast for Queen Dornoccia to do everything herself. She’d be swamped by minutiae, with almost no time to handle issues of real import. Thus, in theory, she generally relies on two groups – the Mectun and the MiPluri – to help her run the empire.”

This made sense to me. Back home, the CEOs of large corporations typically had entire rosters of senior executives helping them manage things: a chief operating officer, chief financial officer, etcetera.

“Hmmm,” I muttered softly, concentrating on what I’d just heard. “You said ‘in theory.’”

“Very perceptive,” my grandmother said with a smile, and I could sense that she was pleased by my observation. “By way of explanation, the Mectun is a group of one hundred individuals – ten from each royal line – who are ostensibly tasked with managing the day-to-day operations of the empire. They oversee everything from interstellar shipping lanes to constructing museums to arming the military.”

“So the queen’s delegated authority for most of the routine stuff,” I summed up. “That’s standard government procedure.”

“True, but in this case there’s an additional wrinkle: membership in the Mectun is hereditary.”

“Huh?”

My grandmother hesitated for a moment, obviously pondering how best to continue. “As you already know, the royal family is quite extensive and contains numerous factions. Moreover, even within each of the ten royal lines there are various cliques and clans, many of which have their own individual aims. Since the Mectun was formed, the posts comprising it have generally been occupied by representatives – usually the leaders – of the ten most powerful blocs within each royal line. Said positions are then handed down from father to son, although occasionally a daughter is the most eligible heir.”

“So we’re back to having nepotism in play.”

“Yes, and it has not always worked out to our benefit. In fact, it has occasionally resulted in outright chaos.”

“I can imagine,” I said. Simply being born into the royal family didn’t necessarily mean you had the requisite knowledge, expertise, or skill to run a major portion of the government. “What about the MiPluri? Are those inherited posts as well?”

Indigo shook her head. “Not exactly. The MiPluri make up the Caelesian Council – officially the queen’s closest advisors. There are ten of them, and they are selected from the Mectun.”

“Who makes the selections?”

“The Mectun themselves, via ballot. In theory, they are supposed to select the ten most capable of soundly advising the ruling monarch.”

“Let me guess: each royal line elects one of its own to the council.”

“Again, you’ve shown a sound grasp of the politics of the situation,” she said. Then, giving me a wink, she added, “Are you sure you’re not a politician back on Earth?”

I laughed. “No, but this isn’t a far cry from the situation there, with the children of politicians often aspiring to the positions their parents held, whether competent or not.”

“The queen, fortunately, does not suffer fools lightly,” Indigo said. “She has, particularly in recent years, removed key responsibilities from many of the Mectun who were known to be inept.”

“She fired them?” I uttered, unable to hide my surprise.

“Technically, no. From a political standpoint, that would not have been prudent. But stripping them of authority and control essentially amounted to the same thing.”

“So some of the Mectun are basically just figureheads.”

“Yes – roughly half, if you want the truth. This, in turn, has significantly increased the workload of the fifty percent who are actually qualified – including my father.”

“What?” I said, caught off-guard. “Your father’s alive?”

A look of incredulity came across my grandmother’s face.

“Of course he’s alive!” she said fiercely. “Why would you think he wasn’t?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess when you talked about him before, it all sounded so ‘past tense’ that I just assumed he was no longer with us.”