by Peter Telep
And so the Community is all of those and more, but there’s just one problem:
How do we get the attention of an entire planet?
We gather inside another laboratory to answer that question.
This place looks more like an auto repair shop cluttered with computers and parts that belong to all kinds of machines, with a few that resemble pieces of the engine. The engine itself sits near the back, and it’s just like ours on Earth, with those familiar canisters, cannons, and central wreath lying on its side.
I give everyone the head’s up on our deal with Joshua and my father, and we’re all tense because we don’t know how much time we have.
However, my grandmother insists that we listen to her.
She has the results of our blood tests.
“Most of you grew up after the withering, and at least one of you was raised on Earth.” She nods at me. “So I’m not sure if you know it or not, but we have some interesting blood types on Flora.”
“Willows, laurels, and sages,” Keane says. “Everyone’s heard of them.”
“Right, but did you know we categorize our blood types differently than they do on Earth?”
He shakes his head.
“We examine how the wreath mutates the blood cells in your body instead of whether antigens are present or not. Willows are the most common types on Flora. Laurels are much less common and prone to certain abilities.”
“Am I a laurel?” I ask. “Because of the trrunes I can see?”
She nods. “But even among laurels, Doc, those trrunes are rare.”
“Well, I didn’t ask to be rare, that’s for sure.”
“What about me?” Keane asks. “I think I’m a laurel, too.”
“You are,” my grandmother says. “But what’s even more interesting is that you and Doc share a common ancestor, a few hundred years back.”
“So we’re related?” he asks.
“Distantly, yes.”
“Well that might explain this connection thing we have,” I tell her.
“Yeah,” Keane says. “It’s like a connection but way more powerful, and distance doesn’t matter. It’s like we can hear each other in our heads.”
Her eyes widen in recognition. “We’ve documented cases of connections between laurels that are similar to telepathy.”
“That must be it,” I tell her.
Keane nods.
“Over time, the connection seems to become weaker or stronger,” she adds.
I look at Keane. “I’m not sure I want to be in his mind.”
He snorts. “You can’t handle my genius.”
“I’m very sorry for you,” Steffanie says, smirking at Keane and putting a hand on my shoulder to console me.
“So, back to your question,” my grandmother says. “You’re wondering how to get the Community’s attention? Because you’re right, there’s a lot of noise out there. Everyone thinks they have a plan to fight the Galleons, but yours will work. You just need them to listen.”
“That’s right,” I say.
“I don’t think we can,” Keane says. “It’s like making a post on social media and getting everyone in the world to read it.”
“Those people would have to be very interested in the person who made that post,” my grandmother says, and then her gaze turns to…
Meeka.
“You have to tell them,” my grandmother says. “You might be a willow, but your bloodline is the rarest of all on Flora.”
Meeka sighs. “I told you, I’ve been through all of this, and it doesn’t matter. It never has. And it never will.”
“My dear child, it does now.”
“All right, so my real name is Meeka Arabelle.”
“And that name—Arabelle—doesn’t mean anything to most of you,” my grandmother says. “But it does to me. Only one family on Flora has the right to bear that name.”
“Whoa, this is weird,” I say, glancing at Meeka. “Are you famous?”
She shakes her head and frowns as my grandmother’s tone grows more dramatic: “The Royal House of Arabelle ruled for over a thousand years.”
“The royal house?” I ask. “I remember Rose drew some pictures of that place.”
“I don’t believe it,” Keane says. “I know all about the royal house. So… all of those years with us, and you’re really a princess or something? What the hell?”
“Keane, I never lied to you. I was never a princess, and I never will be. I’m a rumm—just like you.”
“But you knew where you came from,” Keane says.
She hesitates. “Look, all I know is when the bombs were going off, my parents got killed, but their ministers got me out of Larkspur. Something went wrong, and the ministers got hurt, but before they died they found Val. She promised to take care of me and keep my secret.”
“Why did it have to be a secret?” I ask.
“My parents were great leaders, but sometimes they were pretty radical. They made a lot of enemies. Val said people would try to kidnap me for money. A few years ago, Steff and I went down there. I wanted to know more about my parents. The house is gone, and all we found were bad memories.”
My grandmother puts a hand on Meeka’s shoulder. “Dear child, the house might be gone, but you mustn’t forget that your parents were some of the most influential people on the planet, and everyone in Larkspur loved them. I remember the celebration they had when you were born. We were all in the Community. It was amazing, one of those events you remember for the rest of your life. I’ll have to show it to you some time.”
Meeka shrugs. “Whatever.”
“No, not whatever,” my grandmother says. “The fact that you’re still alive gives everyone hope.”
Chills needle up my arms and fan across my back. “Meeka, why didn’t you tell us?”
“Why bother? The Royal House is dead!”
“No,” my grandmother argues, coming up behind Meeka and putting her hands on Meeka’s shoulders. “The Royal House of Arabelle is right here.”
“Damn, I see where this is going,” Keane says.
“Meeka, my grandmother’s right. They’ll listen to you, especially the older ones who remember, and they’ll convince the others.”
“I know what I have to do, but it’ll change everything. I don’t want special treatment. I don’t want stuff handed to me. That’s why I didn’t like Earth.”
“Uh, no, that’s why you’re insane,” Keane points out. “If you’re stuck here, why not rule the place?”
Steffanie comes up behind Keane and places her hand over his mouth. “Okay, we’re good,” she says.
I pull Meeka aside and lower my voice. “So you’ll do it? You’ll talk to them?”
“Of course I’ll do it. My friends are up there. My family. But I’m just a rumm.”
“What’re you talking about? Being a leader has nothing to do with your blood, right? It’s how you act. Tommy taught us that. Lead from the front. Lead by example. Train as you fight. Never quit. That’s all you. You’re all over that. And this place really needs a badass like you.”
“Yeah,” she says, her gaze lowering to the floor. “But I’m afraid.”
“Of what?”
“Failing.”
I slide my arm around her shoulders. “You won’t fail. And you know why? Because you’re Meeka.”
She glances up and takes deep breath. “Actually, Doc, I’m Princess Meeka of the Royal House of Arabelle.”
I smile. “Damn straight you are.”
CHAPTER SIXTY
After admitting she’s nervous herself, my grandmother goes to the Community ahead of us to spread the word of her work. She shows everyone the truth regarding my father’s company and who’s really to blame for the withering. She provides DNA evidence proving that “the last princess of the Royal House of Arabelle is still alive, and she wants to address the Community!”
Fortunately for us, more people than usual are linked together as a defense against the masks, so it only
takes a few minutes for my grandmother’s message to go viral.
As expected, reactions are mixed. Many are willing to accept the truth regarding Solomon’s actions, while others still place blame on my father since it was still his partner who sold out the research. However, everyone is eager to hear from this surviving member of the royal house.
My grandmother jumps back to the lab and says, “I knew they’d remember. They’re gathering now. Millions of them. It’s incredible. Are you ready?”
I nod and then shift across the room to Hedera and Rattle. “I wish you could come.”
“So do we,” she says. “Although I might catch a glimpse. Sometimes that works.”
“No worries, though. I’ll show you everything when we get back.”
Without warning, Rattle’s on me, his arm wrapped around my neck. He’s got me in an unbreakable headlock.
“All right, everyone, listen up,” Hedera says. “You were supposed to get my caravan to Earth. You have an engine right here. But now your plan is to blow it up. I get that you’re trying to save everyone up on that ship, but you owe us, too. So what’re you going to do about that?”
“You’re right, Hedera. We owe you,” I say.
“You can’t blame me for helping my people,” she says.
“I don’t. There just has to be another… wait a minute. The engine at the temple is messed up, but maybe we can still fix it. Maybe we can send some parts there.”
“I don’t care what you do. You’re not blowing up this place until my people escape.”
“So you’ll sacrifice everyone on that ship for your people?” Meeka asks. “Wow, really?”
“You think they’d sacrifice themselves for us? A bunch of ivies? I think not.”
I look to my grandmother. “Can you help?”
“Your father told me about the other engine. I have the coordinates. I can start sending parts back there. I planned for all of us to jump through the portal before I detonate. That wasn’t my destination, but it will be now. I’ll take all of us and the grren. I’ll try to repair that engine, but there are no guarantees. If—and I do mean if we get it running, I’ll get her people to Earth, if that’s what they want.”
“I don’t believe you,” Hedera says to my grandmother.
“I can show you that I’m not lying.”
“I don’t know about that…”
“Young lady, you’re not the first ivy I’ve ever known, and I hope you’re not the last. But now, if you don’t release my grandson, you’ll get nothing from me.”
Hedera is still not convinced.
Keane shifts over to her. “Please, Hedera, we’re all on the same side. And I’ll make sure we keep our promise to you—no matter what.”
Her expression softens a little under Keane’s gaze, but then she shakes her head and says, “Prove it.”
My grandmother crosses to her, glances at Keane, and then both she and Keane project their personas and connect with Hedera.
Her eyes go vague for a few moments in both her body and persona.
Keane’s persona shivers.
Hedera begins to nod and mutter something under her breath…
My grandmother’s persona shuts its eyes, and then, after another long, silent moment, the persona vanishes as she breaks the connection.
Keane’s lingers a few seconds more and then winks out.
Looking exhausted, Hedera faces Rattle. “Let him go.”
He releases me and raises his palms.
I start rubbing my neck where his arm crushed it. The guy has a powerful grip.
“Sorry. You okay?” he asks, stroking his thin goatee.
“Yeah, just do me a favor. Don’t do that again.”
“Roger that.” He smiles knowingly to show he’s picked up that expression from Tommy.
Hedera comes over. “It’s just… we didn’t want you to forget us.”
“I know. I should’ve considered how you’d feel about all this, but can we agree not to kill each other?”
“Agreed,” she says, glancing to Keane.
“All right, everyone,” my grandmother says, once again jumping into her persona and extending her hands. “Come with me—and please wear something nice.”
“No hipster clothes,” I warn Keane.
“No worries,” he says. “I’ve got this all figured out. And hey, we should take the grren. It’ll look impressive, right?”
“Good idea,” my grandmother says. She motions for Grandpa to come over and connects with him. The grren project all their personas, and together, we join hands.
And paws.
The next thing I know we’re standing on a gigantic stone balcony built into the side of a snow-capped mountain that looks like Mount Everest but is, in fact, the highest peak on the continent called Faldareach.
The platform seems miles across, and it’s filled with personas on either side of us while millions more crowd in the valley below, like gleaming stars sweeping toward the horizon. Their voices hum and rumble like an earthquake that rises into our feet.
And along with that sensation, their personas feel like pins and needles in my head and chest. I realize I can focus in on any one and send an invitation to connect on a more personal level.
Yes, this is different than the Hood. Way more intense. I can see why Keane didn’t bring us here when we first learned to use our personas.
My breath’s thick on the cold air as we step forward. My grandmother takes the lead. Meeka and I trail her, with Steffanie and Keane bringing up the rear. I glance back at them.
And lose my breath.
We’re all dressed for prom—except Keane.
Oh, no. What has he done?
He looks like a pimp in a purple jacket, giant bow tie, top hat, and cane—
And then it hits me where I’ve seen this outfit before.
He’s dressed exactly like Gene Wilder from the original version of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. He did say he borrowed some Blu-rays from my father’s collection and took them over to the safe house. He either watched the movie or has some internet memes featuring Wonka stuck in his head.
I step aside and ask, “What the hell are doing?”
He dismisses me with a wave. “I’m sorry, but all questions must be submitted in writing.”
Wait. That’s a line from the movie.
“Keane, stop!” I grab his wrist.
“Bro, we’re here to get their attention.”
“Not like this!”
Before I can say anything further, he pulls away, clutches Steffanie’s arm, and leads her away.
I fall in behind them, along with the grren.
There’s no microphone or podium, just us and the thick stone railing carved into the shapes of leaves and vines.
My grandmother turns to face us. “You can raise your voice for emphasis, but they can hear you either way.”
I grab Meeka’s hand and squeeze it. “Just so you know, this means a lot to me.”
She’s already tearing up. “I’m so nervous.”
“You’ll be great.”
She squeezes my hand even tighter as my grandmother begins:
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve suffered for a long time. And now the Masks of Galleon and their lords and ladies want us to keep on suffering. But we won’t—because we have a plan to rescue all of their prisoners and defeat the Armadis. So please welcome now, the last surviving member of the Royal House of Arabelle, Princess Meeka.”
I release Meeka’s hand.
She steps forward and looks back at me.
I widen my eyes: game on!
Below us, the personas wave and cheer.
I gesture to the crowd, as if to say, See? You’ve already won them over! Go for it!
And Meeka truly is a princess now in her blue sleeveless gown and headband of tiny flowers. Her hair has been pulled back into a single braid, and even the scars across her back seem like art.
She’s just beautiful.
And
I don’t feel guilty about liking her anymore.
As the crowd falls silent, thunder booms across the sky, but it doesn’t stop.
Lightning flashes.
No, that’s not lightning.
Knights drop through the air and erupt into balls of light that glimmer for a few seconds and then darken into blank eyes, noses, cheeks… faces.
Masks.
Dozens appear, and then hundreds, and then thousands, all facing down. Watching. Trying to intimidate us.
“Don’t be afraid!” Meeka shouts. “They can’t hear us, and they can’t touch us here, but we need to move quickly.”
It takes a moment for the crowd to quiet down, and then Meeka continues:
“It’s true. I didn’t want you to know who I am. The royal house is gone. I’m all that’s left, so I thought it didn’t matter. But they say it matters to you. So I’m here, because we can’t do this without you. Will you help us?”
There’s barely a reaction from the millions of personas, who are still distracted by the masks.
Keane pushes up next to Meeka and says, “No worries, I got this.” He waves his top hat and screams, “Look at me, people! Listen up! We’re going to rebuild our world, and the masks and their Armadis can’t stop us!”
The crowd begins to stir and face Keane, murmuring to each other about his crazy outfit.
Meeka lifts her voice and adds, “We know our enemy, and we know how to defeat them. We have an army! That’s you! And now… all we need is the will to do it. Are you ready to fight for our future? Are you?”
Her words echo out across the millions and send chills ripping up my spine.
And then, from the back of the crowd, comes a cheer that washes like a tidal wave toward us.
Once it strikes, the crowd goes even more wild, shaking their fist in the air and chanting, “Mee-ka! Mee-ka! Mee-ka!”
Keane removes his top hat and does an exaggerated bow before her.
She smiles and glances back at me.
I raise my fist in the air—
And join the crowd shouting her name.
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
Ironically, our attack begins with a trip to the healing wreath in orbit. The wreath now includes our personas and pieces of the essences of other Florans who donated them during the years following the withering.