Coronation: A Kid Sensation Novel (Kid Sensation #5) (6 page)

“Well, I’ll have you know that he’s alive and in excellent health. In addition, you’ll be pleased to know that he’s also one of the Mectun
and
the MiPluri. Finally, he’s part of the reason that you were sent for.”

“How’s that?”

She sighed pensively, almost with regret. “Queen Dornoccia is the third consecutive monarch from the First Royal Patrilineal branch. Thus, she must choose someone from one of the other royal lines as the next ruler. My father, Prince Norbeo, is the odds-on favorite to succeed her.”

One would think that the idea of your father becoming king (especially of an interstellar empire) would be good news. Indigo, however, acted as though it were the worst thing that could possibly happen.

“You have to understand,” she said, trying to explain. “My father currently heads the most powerful coalition within our line of the royal family, as did his father before him, his father before him, and so on. More than that, the Third Matrilineal has always been, for the most part, one of the two most powerful royal lines – the other typically being the line that the sitting sovereign hails from at the time.”

“That makes sense,” I said. “The current ruler is expected to have a lot of juice, which would naturally boost the fortunes of whatever branch they’re part of. I still don’t see how any of this creates a problem with your father becoming king.”

“Historically, our line of the family has produced the fewest rulers of the empire. This might seem like a failing to some, but was done by design. We have intentionally eschewed the monarchy, preferring to be king
makers
rather than kings.”

“What do you mean? I thought the current king or queen got to pick their successor.”

“That’s generally true, but they still need a certain amount of support from the royal branches for their candidate of choice. Although it rarely happens, there have been occasions in the past when a monarch had to discard their first choice of successor because they couldn’t obtain adequate backing.”

“And that’s where we come in. We’re powerbrokers.”

“Yes, and very successful ones, I might add. In the past ten millennia, no royal has ascended the throne without our support. At present, only the queen rivals us in terms of influence.”

“So basically, becoming king isn’t going to do that much more for our family’s fortunes, because we’re already at or near the apex in that regard.”

She nodded. “More to the point, it is a position that comes with infinitely more headaches and constant pressure. For instance, with an empire the size of Caeles’, there’s always an emergency somewhere, so – on practically a daily basis – you are forced to deal with crisis after crisis…sometimes several simultaneously.”

It sounded like a pretty stressful day job, but I kept that opinion to myself. “Well, why doesn’t he just decline if he’s selected? From what you’ve told me, it’s not like he needs the money.”

“Believe me, he’d like to, but he may not have much choice. All of the other likely candidates are either complete idiots or ambitious, despots-in-waiting. So it’s either step forward, or see the empire make a hideous turn for the worse.”

“In that case, maybe it’s an opportunity to make some useful changes and positive reforms, like clearing all the deadwood out of the Mectun and the MiPluri.”

“He’s already been doing that. It was at his insistence, and with his support, that the queen began her campaign of removing authority from those Mectun ill-suited to have it. In fact, it is well-known that my father is likely to raise the stakes by making positions in the Mectun merit-based rather than hereditary.”

I raised an eyebrow at this. “That’s a rather bold agenda. His popularity in the polls is likely to take a nosedive after that.”

“It’s already taking a toll. For quite a few royals, being part of the Mectun is the bedrock of their influence, particularly among allies and associates. They’re vehemently opposed to any changes to the current status quo. Ergo, they’re not standing idly by, waiting to see if my father will actually shred their power base should he gain the throne. They’re taking action now.”

“What type of action?”

“They’ve proposed a new law, which would prevent anyone with less than fifty percent Caelesian blood from holding any position of authority – including hereditary positions – in the empire.”

I blinked, astonished, as I tried to process what this meant. “So, what you’re saying is that someone like me would be prevented from inheriting anything under this new mandate.”

“At the moment, you are the only royal who is less than one-half Caelesian, so this proposal isn’t just in reference to someone
like
you. It is aimed specifically
at
you.”

“What about my mother?”

“Because the Fleodin are believed to have originated from the homeworld, I am genetically considered to be one hundred percent Caelesian. That means your mother would meet the fifty-percent threshold. You, on the other hand, would not. That makes it blatantly clear that you are the target in this instance.”

“But why? Up until about two weeks ago, I knew almost nothing about Caeles – aside from the fact that you were from there and it was your homeworld. Why try to strip me of an inheritance I didn’t know or care about?”

“First, I should state that you would still be able to inherit wealth, as well as some family titles; it is the hereditary
positions
, among other things, that would be forbidden to you under the proposed statute. Second, this was less about you and more about controlling my father.”

“How so?”

“In essence, he’s been given a choice. If he agrees to discard all plans of making the Mectun a meritocracy, a vote on the new proposal will be held in abeyance. If he refuses, his adversaries will make it law, effective immediately.”

“Great,” I said sarcastically. “I’m a pawn in an intergalactic chess game.”

My grandmother, looking incredibly serious, leaned forward and looked me in the eye. “Understand something: this is an attack on our immediate family. It’s an attempt not just to curb our power and influence, but to eliminate it completely over time. Moreover, it has a broad swath of support from a large percentage of royals – including many within the Third Matrilineal – as almost all of them see the changes my father would implement as a threat.”

“So what’s he going to do?” I asked softly, afraid of what the answer might be.

My grandmother leaned back, a cocksure grin on her face. “He’s already done it.”

I frowned. “Done what?”

“The unexpected. Upon receiving the threat, since that’s actually what it was, your great-grandfather immediately and irrevocably abdicated all of his hereditary positions.”

I simply stared at her, as the implications of what she’d just said threatened to overload my brain. “But…but… If he abdicated, that would mean…”

“Yes. Since he essentially renounced them, my father’s hereditary positions are automatically assumed by his heir apparent – in this case, his closest male descendant. Furthermore, because he stepped down before the proposed ban against you became law, it has no effect. In short, you, Prince J’h’dgo, are now – at least nominally – a member of the Mectun.”

To say I was shocked would have been a mild understatement of fact, but the irony of the situation actually made me laugh: I’d been grandfathered (or rather,
great-
grandfathered), so to speak, with respect to the proposed law. Prince Norbeo was really a wily old devil, and I said as much to my grandmother.

“Yes,” she agreed. “But politics is in his blood. These things are second nature to him.”

“Will I get to meet him?” I asked.

“Not in person. As I mentioned, he’s carrying perhaps twice the workload he should due to incompetence among his fellow Mectun. At the moment, he’s away from Caeles, negotiating a trade alliance in a distant star system.”

“Wait a minute,” I said, frowning. “I thought he abdicated his position.”

“He did, but until you are installed he’s serving for you by proxy, which is allowed. In addition, he’s still a member of the MiPluri.”

“Okay. So when does this installation occur?”

A distasteful look came across my grandmother’s face. “Now we come to the heart of the matter – the reason you are here.”

She hesitated for a moment, clearly not liking this topic.

“Go on,” I said, encouraging her.

Indigo let out a deep breath. “My father’s adversaries don’t like being outwitted. They’ve demanded that you be subjected to a
prexetus
– a test to determine if you have the requisite qualities to be part of the Mectun.”

“Hold on,” I said, feeling a little agitated. “A few minutes ago you said my position in the Mectun was hereditary. Now I have to be tested to see if I fit in?”

“Use of a
prexetus
is rare, to be honest, but not without precedent. In the past, it has been requested with respect to persons whose fealty was subject to question. And in this case…”

She trailed off, but I could see where she was going. “I’m from Earth, so there’s doubt as to whether my first loyalty would be to Caeles.”

“So you understand.”

“There are some people back home who have the same notion, only in reverse,” I said in reflection. “My alien DNA makes them wonder about my allegiance to Earth. Frankly speaking, I’m starting to feel like a man without a country.”

“Don’t,” my grandmother said. “You always have a place here, regardless of what people say or what laws get passed. You are my thrice-child – my
Sxibbo
.”

She used a term that I had a little trouble translating, but which I loosely interpreted as meaning “beloved and adored male progeny.”

“Thanks,” I muttered softly, smiling. “At least now I know why I’m here. So when is this
prexetus
supposed to take place?”

“In the evening, two days from now, at the Acropolis Select. Unfortunately, we don’t yet know what the
prexetus
will consist of, but the queen herself will test you in the presence of certain royals and make the pronouncement as to the results immediately thereafter.”

“No pressure there,” I muttered.

“I’m not worried,” my grandmother said. “I have the utmost faith in you.”

“I appreciate the support, but you’re expected to say those things. After all, I’m your grandson – albeit one you just met for the first time today.”

“You forget,” she said, tapping her temple with a forefinger. “I have years of memories related to you. I know you almost as well as your mother and grandfather.”

“So that means that you’re well aware of my powers.”

“Yes, but I’ve been receiving reports of them for some time now. And, since issuance of the edict summoning you here, others have learned of your abilities as well.”

I frowned. For some reason that bothered me, although I’d have been hard-pressed to explain why. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“It shouldn’t be, but I must tell you that powers such as yours and your fellows on Earth are not as common among Caelesians.”

“They’re not?”

“Only a very small percentage of the population has them. The most prevalent ability is telepathy, such as I have. However, not many are at my level, which is why I’m forced to train with Fesinin, despite her disagreeable personality. She’s one of the few capable of truly giving me a challenge.”

“That’s interesting. I was under the impression that most Caelesians were telepaths.”

“Not at all. However, most are trained in how to keep their thoughts private and are adept at warding off mental attacks.”

“Good to know,” I said. “So what happens now?”

“Now,” she said, “we need to get ready for the banquet we’ve prepared in your honor. We have a few hours yet, but the time will be upon us before you know it.”

I fought to keep from rolling my eyes. “If we’re putting all our cards on the table, I have to say that I don’t really need all the pomp and circumstance.”

“I understand,” Indigo said sincerely, “but in this case the banquet is a must.”

I was tempted to ask why, but caught myself. My grandmother was trying to do something nice for me, to welcome me. It would be bad form (and probably leave a poor first impression) if I discounted her efforts. I decided to stay silent on the subject.

“Well, I should let you go and get some rest,” my grandmother said, rising. “You’ve obviously had a rough day thus far. So, if there’s nothing more you need to ask me, I’ll have you shown to your chambers.”

“There is one other question that I have,” I said, coming to my feet as well. “What should I call you?”

It turned out that Indigo was partial to having me refer to her as “
Sxahnin
,” which was a Caelesian term of affection for an older female relative. (Personally, I had always envisioned calling my grandmother “Nana,” but after meeting her, it didn’t seem suitable.) Following our chat, she turned me back over to Sloe, who led me to my chambers while continuing to detail the history of the House Nonpareil and its contents.

Upon reaching my quarters, Sloe took up a post outside and stated that I should enter. Inside, I found a small army of servants waiting for me; I ordered them all out, practically slamming the door behind them. Once they were gone, I shifted into super speed and zipped through the place in order to get an idea of where everything was.

Much like my quarters on the starship, I’d once again been given a large suite of rooms, luxuriously furnished for my comfort. Some of the rooms I recognized and could identify (such as the kitchen and game room), but there were at least two areas – both full of odd pieces of furniture – that I couldn’t make heads or tails of. Rather than dwell on them, I headed to the bedroom, where I took the crown off my head and tossed it (along with the earbud) onto a nearby work desk. Then I stretched out on a bed large enough to accommodate a basketball team and stared at the ceiling.

I let out a long, ragged breath, suddenly feeling incredibly tired. Not only had it been a long day, but this felt like the first time since leaving Earth that I’d had a moment to myself. (Of course, that may have been a side effect of carrying around two sets of memories other than my own, but who knows?) It felt great to just lie there, without the pressure of having to be “regal” weighing on me.

Eyelids feeling heavy, I blinked and then yawned as, for the first time in what seemed like forever, my thoughts turned to Earth – my friends, my family, my girlfriend Electra…

*****

I was having a dream that I was flying through the air, soaring majestically, when I heard the sound of someone insistently calling my name.

“Prince J’h’dgo! Prince J’h’dgo!”

Hearing anxiety in their voice, I came wide awake and sat up.

I was still in my bedroom in the House Nonpareil, apparently having fallen asleep earlier. A female servant stood nearby, looking nervous; apparently she had been the person calling out to me.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Prince,” she said, “but you have an urgent communiqué.”

“Where?” I said, stifling a yawn. “Where is it?”

She pointed to the desktop where I had tossed my crown earlier. I stood and walked over to it. Now that I was paying closer attention to it, I could see that it was covered with a number of devices – a cube with a flashing light, a rectangular contraption with numerous dials, something that looked like an exceptionally thin flat-screen monitor, and more. Taken altogether, it looked like some kind of advanced ham radio set.

I glanced at the various items, looking for some kind of clue as to what I should do next. After a few seconds, I gave up and looked at the servant pleadingly. It took her a moment to note my confusion; then, with a slight grin, she tapped the cube with the flashing light and then swiftly departed. The door had barely closed behind her before the cube began broadcasting a holographic image of a Caelesian male.

Assuming the projection was to scale, he appeared to be about my height, was well-groomed, and dressed in what appeared to be a full-length robe of some sort. He was handsome, with dark hair that was just beginning to lighten in certain spots, and gave the overall impression of being middle-aged, but with Caelesians, who knew? (If he were human, I would have pegged him as being in his mid- to late-forties.)

Neither of us said anything for a moment, but I noticed him giving me a thorough once-over, just as I had done to him. I wasn’t sure who this was or what he wanted, but it was allegedly an urgent message so I waited to hear what he had to say.

“Well,” my holographic visitor finally said, “don’t they teach you how to speak on that planet that you’re from?”

“Uh, hello,” I muttered, uncertain of what else I should say.

A look of exasperation came over the man’s face. “That’s it? ‘Hello’? I give up a slew of titles and positions, and ‘Hello’ is all I can get?”

Oh, snap!
This was Prince Norbeo – my great-grandfather! I began stammering out a stilted apology, begging that he excuse my lapse in manners, and then noticed that he was smiling gleefully. I couldn’t read him empathically since he wasn’t really present, but it became clear to me that he’d only been feigning annoyance; he’d just been yanking my chain. Simultaneously, we both started laughing.

From that point, we launched into a lively conversation that spanned a number of topics, from my grandmother’s antics as a child to my life on Earth. We generally kept away from weighty matters (such as why I was brought to Caeles), and it turned out that Prince Norbeo had a lively sense of humor.

He cracked several jokes as we talked, a number of which went over my head (you had to be truly familiar with Caelesian culture to get them), but a couple of which I actually understood and found to be hilarious. Based on the things Indigo had said, I thought he’d be a particularly sober and somber individual, but it became obvious early on that he didn’t take himself too seriously and I loved him for it. (Apparently the servant saying that his message was “urgent” was simply a matter of form; as far as the staff were concerned, all of Prince Norbeo’s communications were urgent.)

Only twice did the discussion turn solemn, the first being when we somehow got on the topic of his late wife. It had indeed been something of a forced marriage, but in time he had grown to love her.

“Being young and carefree,” he said, “I’d had no intention of getting married at the time. Afterwards, I often asked her why she chose me, and she always said the same thing: that she could see that I had a bright future ahead of me – brighter than any of my peers at that juncture – and that eventually I’d learn to love her. She was right on both counts, although the second of those predictions came true before the first.”

The second time that serious issues came to the fore was right before we ended our conversation.

“Don’t worry about the
prexetus
,” Prince Norbeo said. “I have every confidence in you – you have the blood of the House Nonpareil in your veins, after all. But regardless of what happens, I’m proud of you and everything you’ve accomplished thus far.”

Shortly thereafter, our chat concluded and the hologram winked out. (Apparently it was the wee hours wherever Prince Norbeo was, and he had a long day of negotiations to look forward to.) I hadn’t known what to expect, but I had to admit that I had thoroughly enjoyed talking to my great-grandfather. Checking the time, I saw that the banquet was due to start soon, so I headed to the connecting bathroom for a shower.

*****

I managed to be quick and thorough with my shower and grooming, without needing to shift into super speed. Donning a bathrobe, I came back into the bedroom to find that someone had laid out a new set of finery for me to wear. Although I had dismissed them earlier, the servants were clearly keeping tabs on me in some way. (I just hoped there weren’t any cameras in my suite, but it seemed unlikely.)

I dressed quickly, finding that the clothes fit as if tailor-made (which they probably were). As I prepared to leave, I remembered my crown; it was still on the table where I’d left it. As I put it on, it occurred to me that I’d had the entire conversation with my great-grandfather without wearing it. Apparently I had unwittingly confirmed my own opinion that I was fluent in the Caelesian language (although admittedly there were still a number of phrases and nuances that I didn’t thoroughly understand).

When I exited my quarters, I found Sloe exactly where I’d left him outside my door.

“Come, Prince,” the robot said, already in motion. “The banquet begins.”