by Jo Zebedee
He called up the next screen, the document of abdication. The word seemed larger than it was: his dream for so long. With more hope than he’d felt for years, he reached forwards and scrawled his signature, waiting for a pinprick from the screen to confirm his DNA.
“Well,” he said, getting to his feet. “It seems we have a new future.” He met Balandt’s eyes, who’d been such a stalwart, and the Tortdeniels who’d supported Sonly in the Banned’s – and his – worst hour. A smile broke. “The Empire is no more.”
He left the room, stopping to thank each in person. He’d done it. Once he faced his mother and finished the job, he’d be free.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Sonly set her data pad on the desk in her cabin. Soon, the ship would leave and the hiatus on Syllte would become a memory to her. She wanted to hold on to the sense of the place that had healed Kare and returned him to her. She took her time, imprinting the planet on her memory: the sandstone walls, the reflected light from the ocean, the screech of gulls and the smell of the sea. It was different in every way from Holbec, the lush planet of her youth, or the dry, hot Belaudii.
Ferran would be different again. A new apartment in the faceless government buildings of Marel, the capital. Kare would hate being hemmed in, security following his every move, more than she would. He’d prefer to stay on Syllte. He hadn’t said it exactly, but he’d stood on the moonlit beach and offered her a planet in the way his arms had embraced her, loose and relaxed. She’d leaned against him, water lapping at her feet, and wished she could say yes.
Enough. Things were as they were. She slipped her hand into her pocket and touched the newly-received filche, still folded carefully, but didn’t take it out. She didn’t need to; the contents were memorised. President of the Free Republic. The position was hers if she accepted.
It was what she’d worked for during the last miserable decade in Abendau: a vote for everyone; the undermining of the great families’ power-base; the joining-up of the disparate systems with a fairer allocation of wealth. The richest families had fought all the way, loathe to lose their power base, but the smaller families had seen the opportunities opening to them. The balancing act in bringing things to this point, where power was shifting, had taken years.
But it was the right thing to do. She’d watched kids starve in the streets of Bendau, had passed a tribesman left to die staked out in the sun, and knew that Belaudii didn’t come close to how hard life was in the outer zone.
When she had finally been endorsed to the Abendauii Senate, it had been her third time of trying. She’d taken a junior portfolio, aiming to tackle poverty, rather than a more high-profile role. She’d begged Imperial funds from Kare and had thrown herself into it, going into the slums to learn how the people of the city lived, glad of a chance to escape a marriage that had started to tatter. When Kare had finally forced open elections, those same people, the poorest of all in Abendau, had carried her to the gates of the Senate. She’d been their leader, the people’s president, the voice of hope.
She could be again, on a bigger scale. What she’d done on Belaudii she could do on other planets, but she couldn’t do it from Syllte, a tiny planet with no influence. If she chose her father’s dream, she’d have to let go of Kare’s wish for personal peace.
Her desire to take the role seemed small and dirty, compared to what Kare faced in going back to Abendau. What was a job, no matter how important? She thought back to the old Queen’s chamber, the sea drumming in rhythm with her fear, Kare’s pale face set and determined. She left the cabin to take her launch seat, no closer to having an answer.
***
Kerra unfastened the harness on her seat, enjoying the freedom now their ship’s star drive was initiated.
“So, listen.” Her mum pulled the filche out of her pocket and read the last line, again. “The position of president would be endorsed by the formed council of the republic.” Her eyes sparkled as she put on a posh voice and gravely bowed and thanked the council.
“I might have known,” Lichio said, choking with laughter. He gave a mock bow. “So, it’ll be Madame President, then?”
“If I accept.” As if she wouldn’t.
“What does Kare say about it?” Lichio asked.
“I haven’t told him – he doesn’t need distractions right now. But he has said he’ll endorse the republic, stand up and deliver whatever speeches they need and lend his name to it.”
“You’ll have to tell him before someone else does,” said Lichio. “Does this mean you’ll be based on Ferran, then?”
“I suppose so. If I take it.” Her mum’s smile faded. “But, it’s good, isn’t it? Being asked?”
“Of course it is. I hope they know what they’ve let themselves in for.”
“I just need to make sure I get it right.”
Kerra frowned. It all sounded very permanent. When her dad had talked about Ferran it had been temporary, until things were established. What if he left for Syllte? Would he take Kerra back with him, or would she be expected to stay with Mum? Would her parents stay together, or separate again? She wanted to ask, but her mum had moved on to something about the great families and who was supporting who, and the moment was gone.
She wandered out of the living quarters, into the narrow access corridor that stretched the length of the ship, and followed it to the control room. The pilot – Laurena, she remembered, from when they had boarded – had the far-away look on her face that the Roamers often had when flying, and gave Kerra only a half-nod of acknowledgement. Kerra sat on one of the seat-ledges along the bulkhead, closed her eyes, and felt for the mesh.
Patterns filled the darkness. The heat of a planet and the pull of a supernova far away were sharp in the mesh. She concentrated and the sense of space grew stronger, until she was in tandem with what was around her. She could tell where their ship was, and where the other Roamer ships in the same lane were. She bet she could fly the ship. She bet it would be easy.
“Go on, then.”
Her eyes shot open. Laurena nodded at the co-pilot’s seat. “Have a go?”
“Me?” Kerra winced at the stupid question; there was no one else.
“If you want to be a Roamer, you’ll have to learn to Control.” The pilot reached forwards and put the ship onto auto-flight. “You and the boy.”
She frowned. “Why not my dad?”
The Roamer shrugged, her flying suit’s thin material stretching. “His mind flexes the wrong way: iron, inflexible, willing things to his shape. Can’t you feel it?”
“No.” She focused on her dad and tried to understand what the pilot meant. “I can feel him in the centre.” She could; his quiet presence, not paying much attention but aware of the mesh, shifting with it. “Is that what you mean? That he holds the centre.”
“Not really.” The Roamer smiled, almost apologetically. “You didn’t know the mesh when it was held by the Queen. It was different – freer, somehow. Your father, he makes it stay in shape, he pulls the unruly strands into order. The Queen had no need to do that; she and the mesh were one, joined without thinking.”
Kerra focused on the mesh again, letting it move with her, as if the beat of her heart were in tandem with it. Laurena was right – the centre was wrapped around her dad, but it didn’t feel comfortable; each time he changed his focus, it lost some of its energy, and when he pulled it back into shape, it fought him.
It felt disloyal to be noticing it, as if there was something wrong with what he was doing, and she pushed it from her thoughts; later, when she got the chance, she’d talk to him about it.
“A Controller doesn’t change space, but only reads it. The way the old Queen did.” Laurena smiled crookedly. “The boy is also rigid. It may be that in your family you’ll be the only one to master space. You may be Ealyn’s heir, more than any of the others.”
Kerra ducked her head, embarrassed. Her dad, a couple of nights ago, had made a throwaway comment about Ealyn, and the Roamers gathered around had h
ushed, listening closely. He hadn’t taken much convincing to tell them more about his childhood on the ship, his eyes gleaming in a way she’d never seen before, like he was… more alive, less worried. She’d liked listening to him; she’d love to remind him of his dad.
“Go on, then,” said Laurena, taking the ship off auto. “Join the mesh again.”
Kerra closed her eyes and let the darkness take her.
“The ship is under your Control now.”
Amazing. She frowned, trying to keep Ferran at the front of her mind, but the ship was big and pulled against her. The Roamer convoy accommodated her, moving out to give the beginner room. Slowly, she started to bring the ship under Control, and it stayed where it should be.
It was a freedom she’d never known, as if she was flying through space herself, not constrained inside the ship. She flew on, timeless, sensing the pull of planets, the danger of a wormhole in the distance. All the time the Roamer beside her stayed close, not interfering, but supporting, her mind linked to Kerra through the shared space they flew in. It felt like they’d known each other for ages and hadn’t just met on this flight. She could feel where the woman was in the mesh, which family she belonged to, her sense of self.
“I’m going to take Control back.”
Kerra nodded, but when she tried to open her eyes, she couldn’t. She was held in the mesh, too tightly to let go. “What do I do?” Her voice sounded like someone else’s, someone far away and worried.
“You need to bring yourself back to the control room. Take your time, remember how it looked, and open your eyes.”
Kerra drew in a deep breath and managed to force her eyes to a slit. The darkness faded, replaced by the soft lighting of the control room. Only a lingering sense of her flight remained, a memory to be taken out and treasured as something that had touched a core she hadn’t known she had.
“You did well,” said Laurena. “For a first flight, under star drive conditions, that was impressive.”
“It was incredible.” Kerra opened her eyes fully.
“You took to it like a natural.” The Roamer woman didn’t close her eyes or concentrate as hard as Kerra had, but the ship stayed on its course. Imagine, if she practised, she could do that. The woman gave another of her crooked smiles. “Few do better.”
Kerra grinned; she couldn’t help herself. To be good at something she wanted so much, something that felt so right, was special. All her life, she’d felt like her powers were an apology of what they should be – the great Kare Varnon’s daughter who could heal and shift objects in the air, if she wanted, but none of the other things he’d been famous for. She relaxed, holding on to a lingering sense of space and freedom. Her eyes started to droop in the warm control room.
“You will make a great Queen.”
She jumped, realising Laurena was talking to her. “Not for a long time, I hope. Not while Karlyn holds the mesh.” She’d never called him that before, but it seemed right, when talking about the King, to use his Roamer name.
“Not yet.” Laurena gave a sly smile. “But one day you will be Kerlyn, and you will be Queen.”
Kerlyn. It should have felt odd, to have a new name, but it didn’t. She glanced over her shoulder, down the ship to where her mother and Lichio were. In fact, the Roamer name felt like it suited her better than the one her mother had chosen. That thought brought the realisation that had been building since she’d first found the mesh and had become even stronger on Syllte. She wanted to be Kerlyn of the Roamers more than a le Payne and stateswoman, or a Pettina and Empress.
“Blood calls to blood.” Laurena shrugged, and Kerra could feel how at ease she was in the knowledge that the mesh was equal to a family, that it carried more than just a blood link, but a community and a security. She said, her voice casual, “If your parents say yes, I’ll teach you to Control.”
“Really?” Kerra grinned, not able to stop herself, and the guilt fell away. Being a Roamer was part of who she was, or she wouldn’t have this talent.
“Tell them Laurena says you can Control, and if I say so, it’s true.” A tug of pride filled the mesh, the sureness of a Roamer declaring something as true and the whole accepting it.
Kerra spun her seat around and raced down the ship’s gangway, barging into the main cabin. Her mum was on the comms unit, and Kerra waited, shifting from leg to leg. If there was one thing she knew from being the child of the President and the Emperor, it was that you didn’t interrupt calls. Lichio rolled his eyes and mimed a yawn, making her bite back a giggle.
“Balandt may be right about the tariffs.” Her mum paced up and down, hands gesturing as she spoke. “We need consistency across the systems.” She saw Kerra and gave a wave. “I’ll talk with Kare about what has been agreed when I get there.”
Her mum ended the call and Kerra burst out: “The Roamer pilot says she’ll teach me to Control. Her name’s Laurena and she’s really good.”
Her mum frowned and a faint worry settled, low in Kerra’s stomach. Perhaps she should have chosen a better time to talk about this, not when her mum was distracted and might not realise how important it was.
“Do you want to learn?” asked Lichio. His voice was drawled, but it didn’t fool her; he knew what the frown meant, too.
“Yes.” She turned to her mum. She had to make her see this wasn’t something to be refused. “It’s brilliant. I was flying the ship.”
“This ship?” said Mum, hand to her throat.
“Yeah. The Controller said I could fly. I could be like Ealyn.”
Her mother paled, and Uncle Lichio’s eyes widened. “Like Ealyn?” he said. “You know how to choose your role models…”
She shouldn’t have mentioned Ealyn. She’d forgotten that everyone except the Roamers thought he was mad. Except he wasn’t – she knew him now, as the Roamers did. She knew him through her father’s memories of him, through the knowledge the old Queen had held of her son – knowledge mixed with guilt, raising him to some sort of mystic significance. Ealyn hadn’t been mad – he’d been pushed too far, too fast, without the protection of the mesh. She bit back hot words of defence, and forced herself to relax.
“Only in the way he Controlled,” she said. Except the pilot had said it was about the way Kerra used the mesh and how her mind worked, that she was different from her dad and Baelan. “I was really good at it.” Her voice quavered, but she took a deep breath. If she got upset, Mum would say she’d got things out of proportion, and never agree. Better to appeal to her mum’s practical nature. “It would be good to be a pilot, wouldn’t it?”
“But when would you use it?” Her mum looked confused. “You’re going to be on Ferran.”
Kerra looked at her mum and then Lichio. “How long for?” Finally, she could ask.
Lichio cleared his throat. “It’s not safe to go back as long as the Empress is running around free.”
“But she’s on Belaudii!” said Kerra. “It’ll be ages until the republic deposes her.” She grabbed her mum’s arm. “You said it could take months!” Years, even – the Empress already had Belaudii under her rule, and two of the great families, including Hiactol which meant she had military support.
“I’m sorry,” said her mum. “It’s not just about the Empress.” Her mouth twisted. “I’m not basing my decisions on what she’s doing.” She put her data pad down and took Kerra’s hands in her own slender-fingered ones. “I can’t run a republic from a space ship or from a planet as remote as Syllte.” She squeezed Kerra’s hand, as if asking for understanding. “It’s too vulnerable – the attack on the caves told us that. But, also – I’m not a Roamer. I’d always be a visitor, and that’s not practical. Not for someone who’ll have to meet people all the time, and be the public face of the republic.”
Kerra pulled her hand away. Everything was about her mum, and what she needed. It always was. It didn’t matter that Kerra liked Syllte and felt at home there.
“Kerra,” said her mum. “What else can I do?”
Nothing, and there was nothing she could say that would matter. Mum always put work first. Even her dad had been around more when she’d been growing up. He’d commissioned the games room so they could spend time together, and insisted the room have a comms-blackout. They’d spent hours in there, while her mum was in meetings or touring Bendau’s slums talking to other kids about their problems. “Nothing, I suppose. Not if the job is that important to you.”
She walked out, ignoring her mum’s shout of “Kerra!” She wasn’t going to be nice and pretend it didn’t matter. Not this time. She went to her cabin, slamming the door, and curled up on the bunk. She closed her eyes. Space shifted around her, with all the same sensations as earlier. Laurena joined her in the mesh. She knew what had happened, Kerra could tell, but she was calm about it. Karlyn would feel differently, the Roamer believed; he’d understand.
Kerra sat up. Her dad might say yes. He’d known Ealyn, he’d understand why she couldn’t deny or bury the talent. Excitement bubbled and then died; if her mum said no, Dad would too. They never went against each other. Even when they’d lived apart, there’d been a united front of parenting.
Kerra balled her hand into a fist and hit the wall. It made a bang, much louder than she expected. She held her breath, waiting for someone to ask was she okay, but they didn’t. They didn’t even care that she was upset. She pulled a pillow over her head. It wasn’t bloody fair.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Kerra!” Sonly went to go after her daughter, but Lichio took her arm.
“Give her a minute to calm down. It’s hard for her, having so many changes so quickly.”
“I know.” And she did know – six months ago, Kerra had lived in a palace. She’d had everything she could ever need. She’d been cossetted and privileged. Now she was a space-nomad, her few friends from Abendau unable to be contacted, her whole future up in the air. “But she must see I have no option.”
