Coronation: A Kid Sensation Novel (Kid Sensation #5) (11 page)

After acquiescing to my decision to walk to lunch, my grandmother only had one real demand that she insisted on compliance with: that I continue to wear my crown. Not only did it denote my status as a member of the royal family (which would hopefully offer some level of protection in and of itself), but it also apparently served as some sort of tracking device that would allow me to be found in case of emergency.

Indigo needn’t have worried. Although I no longer really needed it for translation purposes, wearing the coronet had become a deep-rooted habit with me. I’d had it on my head all day up to that point and considered it as much a part of my ensemble as the insignia-laden, blue-and-white tunic and azure trousers I’d been wearing since leaving the House Nonpareil that morning. (I did, however, choose to eschew the earbud from that point forward, as it had never been a comfortable fit.)

Since it was my first time in the Acropolis, I obviously had no clue where I was going. Thankfully, Berran supplied me with something that looked like a wristwatch but which functioned as a GPS device. Basically, it synced with a visor that could be worn over the eyes and would holographically project large arrows that you simply followed to your destination. After a few minutes of instruction from Berran, I felt that I could comfortably use the thing to find my way around. With the possibility of getting lost now unlikely, I said goodbye to the courier and my grandmother and set off.

*****

I exited the castellum at street level, via what was presumably the front door. There, I was surprised to find myself greeted by what appeared to be a two-man security detail posted at the entrance. Looking around, I noticed that the building we were calling home for the moment was actually a gated and guarded compound.

There was at least a hundred feet of lawn between the building itself and what I would call “the street” on all sides, with the border between them being an intimidating twenty-foot stone wall. Mounted on a tripod near the front door was some kind of high-caliber gun that looked capable of taking down an airliner. I also noted at least one patrol walking the grounds and looking exceptionally vigilant. (And this was just what I discerned with a casual glance.)

All of this brought to mind my grandmother’s warnings of how dangerous the present situation was. But was this level of security normal, or a beefed-up version resulting from current events? I wasn’t really sure I wanted to know the answer. If this was typical, then day-to-day life among royals was even more stressful than I’d come to realize of late. If this was solely because of me, then maybe things were more volatile than I imagined.

A walkway led from the front door to a massive gate that was set in the wall and manned by armed guards. Since that seemed to be the way out, I began walking towards it.

They must have already been made aware of who I was, because none of the guards accosted me. (In fact, a few at the gate even acknowledged me with a crisp “Prince J’h’dgo” as I approached.) A door-sized aperture in the gate – obviously operated remotely – began swinging open when I got close.

“Thanks,” I said to no one in particular and then stepped out.

The door in the gate swung shut behind me; at the same time, the GPS seemed to activate. I was already wearing the visor, and within seconds I saw a large green arrow floating in the air and pointing to the right. I went in the direction indicated.

As I walked, I took care to observe my surroundings. (After all, the entire point of me making this trek on foot was to see as much as possible.) Noting what appeared to be shops, offices, and even restaurants along my route, I would occasionally stick my head in a doorway or peek through a window to get a better feel for the environment.

Weather-wise, it was gorgeous, very much like a warm and sunny spring day on Earth. There were numerous people on the street (almost all of whom appeared to be commoners), some walking in leisurely fashion while others rushed to and fro. And they were literally on the
street
– the area that, in a major city back home, would be filled with cars zipping by.

It turned out that there was very little ground traffic in the Acropolis. The wealthy traveled everywhere by air transport. Almost everyone else used underground shuttles, subterranean passages with automatic walkways, or the multi-directional elevators (like that in my family’s castellum), many of which could actually go from building to building. People typically only walked outside if their destination was close by.

After I’d been walking along for a few minutes, I started picking up odd emotional vibes. At first they were a little sporadic – only here and there throughout the crowd. Normally, I tune out the emotions of those around me, much like normal people disregard the conversations of others who are within earshot. In this instance, however, I took note because it became clear that multiple people were broadcasting the same sentiments: surprise, anxiety, apprehension – just an overall feeling of nervousness. That almost never happens; everyone has feelings, but multiple people rarely ever feel the same emotion at the same time without some outside catalyst, like someone yelling “bomb” in a crowded room (and causing everyone to panic).

I began picking up the sensation of nervous concern from more and more people. Empathically, it was impossible to ignore, the emotional equivalent of a crowd all shouting the same thing. The question was, what exactly were they trying to say?

While struggling to figure out what the heck was going on, I noticed something queer occurring: the throngs of people that had been around me since I’d stepped onto the street had suddenly begun giving me a wide berth. At the same time, almost all conversation in the area came to an abrupt end as everyone stopped what they were doing and simply stared at me.

At that moment, I realized what had happened: someone had recognized me. Or rather, not me per se, but the fact that a royal was among them. Like the crew on board the ship that had brought me to Caeles, everyone was now showing me an extreme – and to be truthful, an embarrassing – amount of deference (such as inclining their heads when I passed by).

Being the center of this much attention felt weird. I quickened my pace, trying to get away from the gawking. Unfortunately, the rumor mill traveled faster than my stride, and word apparently raced ahead of me that a prince was walking among the commoners. As a result, the masses of bodies in front of me suddenly parted like the Red Sea before Moses, with everyone quickly stepping out of what they presumed to be my path.

As I strolled along, absentmindedly following the holographic arrows, I momentarily considered shifting into super speed and zipping away. I discounted the idea after no more than a moment, realizing that the GPS probably wouldn’t be able to keep up with me. In short, at super speed I’d probably be moving too fast for it to calculate my location, let alone generate an arrow to indicate the proper direction.

I could always turn invisible and then – to avoid having people unknowingly bump into me – fly above the crowd. That way I could avoid being a human spectacle, while at the same time move at a languid enough pace that the GPS would still have some degree of utility. It would probably stun the crowd of onlookers, but they’d get over it. (And it would also give them something to talk about around the water cooler.)

I was just about to implement my plan when I heard a peculiar whooshing sound, like compressed air being forced through a narrow tube. I looked up and saw five Caelesians, wearing what I assumed were jetpacks, streaking through the air about fifty feet above the ground. They were all dressed similarly in some type of dark uniform and were heading in my direction, flying in a tight
V
formation.

As they drew near, their altitude dropped but not their speed; they continued coming towards me at a clip that I estimated to be at least thirty miles per hour. At that rate, I expected them to zoom past, passing perhaps ten feet overhead. However, just when it seemed like they were going to blow by, their speed dropped precipitously and they landed nimbly on the ground in front of me, practically in formation.

It was an extraordinary display – almost like an air show – and normally I would have been very impressed. Instead, I was concerned about something I hadn’t really noticed about these guys until they landed: each of them was carrying a plasma rifle. Moreover, the uniforms they sported were some type of body armor, complete with tactical helmet.

Not good…

My grandmother’s words about how dangerous the city could be suddenly came back to haunt me as I briefly wondered whether this was some sort of hit squad sent by my family’s enemies. If so, they were pretty bold to do their work in broad daylight on a busy street. However, they were about to find out (in a bad way) just what someone with my power set could do.

The guy who had been in the lead while they flew stepped forward. I had no idea how successful this team had been in the past, but I was about to show them that they had made a grave error in their choice of victim this time. I geared up to use my phasing and teleportation powers (among others), formulating a plan of attack that I hoped would keep casualties to a minimum.

“Highness,” said the man who had stepped towards me, “I am Captain Nirdaw of the Queen’s Royal Guard. Are you in distress?”

“Huh?” I muttered, still tense but starting to relax as I realized that this wasn’t a team of assassins sent to kill me. This was, instead, a portion of the queen’s personal guard (which explained why they were carrying weapons).

“Are you in distress?” Nirdaw repeated. He was a big fellow, well-muscled, who moved and spoke with an almost tangible sense of authority and confidence. “Do you need assistance?”

“Uh…no,” I answered. “I’m fine.”

“Where’s your escort?” he asked, looking around expectantly. As he spoke, he raised his right hand and tapped his helmet near the temple area. Almost immediately, a rectangular piece of glass set in a metal frame slid out from the side of his helmet and settled into place in front of his right eye.

“I don’t have one,” I answered, now gaining further insight into what was going on. Someone must have called in that a lone royal, obviously discombobulated, was wandering around the streets of the Acropolis like a lost puppy (which wasn’t exactly true). A contingent of the queen’s guard had been dispatched to make sure everything was hunky-dory.

Nirdaw scanned the area. I couldn’t see anything on my side of the glass, but I was sure that the half-visor that now covered his right eye was feeding him all types of information.

“Would you like us to accompany you to your destination?” he asked.

“That’s not necessary,” I replied. “I’ll be fine on my own.”

“I see,” Nirdaw said in a curious tone as his gaze seemed to fix on a point over my right shoulder. I fought the urge to turn around and look at whatever had grabbed his attention. Instead, I stayed focused on him, noting that his left eye twinkled brightly for a moment in a way that was completely unnatural – like there was a flashlight in the socket behind it that flicked on for a second.

Nirdaw turned and gave a sharp command to his troops. A moment later, they were airborne and zooming away. I watched them for a few seconds (as did everyone else on the street), then decided to scamper away while everyone was distracted – before I became the center of attention again.

I hurriedly followed the holographic arrows, taking just enough note of the areas I walked through to be able to teleport back to them if I needed to. Commoners that I passed still seemed to recognize me as a royal, but their scrutiny became less of an issue as the GPS directed me along a course through zones with fewer and fewer people. As a result, by the time I was about halfway to my destination, I found myself the only person on the street.

At this juncture, the GPS initially directed me to take a broad pathway between two buildings; unfortunately, there was a robotic work crew clogging the designated route as they performed maintenance of some sort. There was a pile of rubble nearby from where they had torn up the street, revealing sections of pipe and wiring. A flashing sign close to the work site warned pedestrians to stay back. Now that I thought about it, I recalled seeing several such signs as I followed the directions of the GPS, but hadn’t paid particular attention to them. (That also explained why I was the only person on the street in this area.)

Praying that the robots weren’t here to fix a gas leak (or whatever the Caelesian equivalent was), I was pondering whether I should just phase and walk through their work area when the GPS, having apparently recalculated, gave me an alternative route. Following my new instructions, I found myself at the entrance of an underground chamber about a minute later.

To be frank, it really resembled the entrance to a subway station, with three sets of escalators on one side going down, and three more on the other side coming up. As I already knew, a good portion of travel in the Acropolis took place underground, so it wasn’t that much of a surprise that part of this excursion would occur below street level. That being the case, I took the plunge and stepped onto one of the descending escalators.

Below the surface, the chamber was extremely well-lit, allowing me the opportunity to inspect my surroundings without switching my vision over to another portion of the light spectrum. The only thing I really noticed, however, was the fact that the area seemed deserted, which I chalked up to the warnings signs about the nearby maintenance work.

The escalator went down for about a hundred feet. As I stepped off it, I noticed roughly a dozen automatic walkways, the closest of which was maybe twenty yards away, heading off in various directions. The arrows pointed me to the walkway farthest to my right. I walked over to it and was just about to step on when I decided to address a problem that had come to my attention a few minutes earlier.

I turned and looked back in the direction I had just come from. As expected, I didn’t see anything, but that meant nothing at all.