Книга: Cydonia Rising

000. Space Girl

Jace

Jace leaned back in his chair, carefully resting his bare foot on the console in front of him, doing his best to not trigger anything. The metal chassis felt cold to the touch, but so did just about everything on the ship. It had been seven cycles since Jace had bought the Pequod and struck out on his own, yet it still didn’t feel like home to him after all of that time. There were a few rooms he had made his own, but they were few and far between. The ship’s control deck—a glorified cockpit with room for maybe four people—had always been one of the areas where Jace had gone out of his way to make it feel like it was his.

Those areas that Jace spent time in were always in a constant state of disarray, Jace inhabiting them throughout most of his flight time while ignoring the rest. He knew he didn’t always have to be in the control deck while traveling and that autopilot took care of most of the work, but when you flew alone as Jace did, there were fewer and fewer reasons to sprawl out or search for alone time. There was also the neurotic fear of something going horribly wrong and not being close enough to take evasive action thanks to not having a crew to rely on. That being said, most of his voyages were “alone time” by choice.

Jace was selective about what jobs he took,  and he stayed away from most of the live cargo or transport jobs. The Pequod was up for carrying more people, with plenty of additional quarters and room for at least twelve to live comfortably, but for Jace, his solitary existence was what felt comfortable to him. That meant moving shipments from moon to moon, planet to planet within the Andlios Republic under the rule of Cronus Freeman. Jace snorted to himself at the very thought of Cronus Freeman while he shook his head, picking himself up out of the command chair and stretching his arms out as far as they could go before his hands smacked against a part of the hull. He was hungry anyway and the great expanse that was space whizzing all around him could wait for him to get back. He figured it wasn’t going anywhere without him.

Jace plodded down the metal steps into the ship’s galley, forced to duck through doorways and sidle through the hallways that were rough on his bulky frame. He was tearing through the compartments looking for something that wouldn’t require much of him while sucking on a pack of water. He wore a few days’ worth of stubble at most times and his hair was in a constant state of disarray, a light brown mess that he always ran his fingers through. He was hungry and anything would do. Maybe some of that freeze-dried stuff that never quite tasted like what the label said it was, but it didn’t require him heating anything up or having to wait for it. That stuff also lasted for years, which was helpful when he was on longer jobs. He’d always pick up fresher foods before he left for a job, but after a few days, it was back to canned food and freeze-dried stuff. At this point, he was just under a week out from Cyngen and he had eaten his last apple two days prior, so freeze-dried was about all that he had left.

He sorted through the packets inside the metal drawer, tossing aside a few before picking out one labeled “Cherry” and slamming the drawer shut with his hip while he held the packet up to his mouth. He gnashed his teeth against the top, trying to tear it open when he heard the alarm from the deck blaring throughout the ship. Great, he thought to himself, he must have miscalculated something or he was on a collision course with an asteroid and certain doom. If Ro were still alive, she’d be lecturing him on being reckless again, and the thought brought an impulsive smile to his face, even with the possibility of certain doom hanging over his head. That was something he wanted to avoid, at least for the time being.

He quickly found himself regretting not wearing shoes while he sprinted down the corridor, up to the metal stairs and into the control deck. Jace slid effortlessly into his chair and slapped a button above the control chair to turn the alarm off, the packet dangling from his mouth. He surveyed the readings only to see that he was rapidly approaching an object in space. It wasn’t anything natural, it was man-made and it was definitely too small to be a ship, even a smaller ship. There was also a life sign, which made his heart jump a bit.

Jace quickly entered a few commands and zoomed in on the object, a projection rotating on the left-hand side of the window before him. It was a life pod, a larger one, too. It was large enough to fit multiple people, but his scans were just picking up a lone lifeform in it. They were still deep out in space, about five days away from the Cydonian-inhabited planet of Cyngen near the outskirts of the system. That meant almost two weeks out from Andlios. He was out in no man’s land and knew if he didn’t stop it, whoever was aboard that life pod was a goner.

With a groan, the ship’s HyperMass Drive powered down, Jace watching the space around him turn from streaks to still stars. There was still no visual on the life pod, it being a few klicks out, but his sensors were still reading it. Most life pods didn’t have much by the way of comm systems, but he sent through an automated reply just the same, curious as to why the life pod didn’t have its distress beacon activated. This was pretty deep in the middle of the frontier, so there was a good chance that whoever was aboard had given up hope and was just waiting for death to come.

The Pequod was a smaller class freighter, which gave it higher maneuverability and the ability to be a bit quicker with still enough room in the cargo bay to fit that life pod. With a flick of a switch, the cargo bay door was opening up, a display showing him the door status while he inched closer to the pod. It wouldn’t be an easy pickup for most pilots, but for Jace, this was all a part of his job. There were often times where he’d be asked to retrieve lost cargo in remote systems, being hired out by logistics companies who were too embarrassed to admit that they had lost some in a transfer and instead paid him to do the dirty work for them discreetly.

Picking up a life pod from deep space wouldn’t be much of a sweat. Jace deployed the cargo arms on each side of the bay doors, controlling them via twin joysticks on the dash. While the Pequod inched closer to the pod, he put the arms in motion. The arms reached out, the right grabbing ahold of the pod to stabilize it while the left edged in to get a grip on it. When the pod was firmly locked into place he retracted the arms and waited until his display showed that the pod was secured and then he closed the bay doors.

There hadn’t been a visitor aboard with him in at least four standard months, which only made him more self-conscious about the shape of the ship. Jace quickly fumbled for a pair of socks and his boots, slipping the socks on in a hurry and pulling the boots up over his feet, clumsily clomping to his feet and almost tripping over his left boot, which he hadn’t fully stepped into yet. He let out a sigh, wondering if he had maybe lost a step when it came to dealing with the human race since Ro passed seven cycles prior.

Jace quickly shook the face of his dead wife out of his head, pulled on his jacket and strapped his pulsepistol’s holster around his waist. While it hadn’t crossed his mind before, he was now imagining a setup with a life pod floating helplessly waiting for some moron to swoop in to save the day only to find himself in the middle of an ambush. Jace knew how to take care of himself and had a fair amount of practice with a gun, but it was mostly for show just in case someone tried to get the jump on him. The walk down the stairs to the cargo bay was a bit more graceful than his last bout with the stairs, but he had company to worry about.

The meter on the door read that the cargo bay had finished pressurizing and that it was safe to go in, so he took a deep breath and flung the door open, fighting off the chill he felt from the room that just moments before had been exposed to the freezing depths of space. Jace tugged on his jacket, cursing to himself for being a good guy while he stomped over toward the life pod, searching for the door.

“Stay where you are,” a voice came from behind him. He froze in place, his hand moving up toward the pistol holstered by his waist. “Hands up.” The voice was confident, unwavering, and very clearly female.

“Okay,” Jace raised his hands up slowly. “See, I’m raising my hands. You know, I did rescue you from what seemed like imminent death out there.”

“I don’t know that yet,” she said as Jace felt the barrel of a gun being jabbed into the small of his back.

“I see you aren’t one for talking first, just right to the guns and the demands, huh?”

“Look.” He felt the tension on his back ease up. “A girl just has to be careful out here in deep space. You aren’t a bounty hunter, are you?”

“Bounty hunter?” He laughed. “No, I’d probably make money if I did that. I move cargo.” He pointed carefully toward the crates in the cargo hold. “If you’ll let me move I’ll go and show you the manifest and where I’m heading.”

“That could just be a cover.”

“Okay,” he gulped, trying to find a way to either reach for his gun or somehow talk her down. “You were floating with what my ship read to be about one day’s left of life support out here in deep space. I was just trying to be a nice guy.”

“I’ve met my share of nice guys.” She grabbed a hold of his arm and pushed him face-first up against the life pod. Her rough gloved hands were patting him down and his pistol slid from the holster. “This the only weapon you had on you?”

“Yeah,” he groaned, his face burning up against the cold life pod. “Can you let me go now?”

“Fine.” She let go and Jace took a deep breath and turned to face her. She was in her mid-to-late twenties with mid-length blonde hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, which was draped over a leather jacket that hugged her tightly. “But I have some questions.”

“You bet that I do as well.” Jace rubbed his face, trying to warm it up. “This is the last time I stop for a helpless life pod.”

“Yeah, well.” She placed her pistol back into a holster on her thigh over her cargo pants, still holding Jace’s pointed at him. “I’m not exactly helpless.”

“Clearly my mistake,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood. “Look, my name is Jace and this ship you are on is the Pequod. I’m not sure what you are running from, but you are safe with me for now. I’m heading to Cyngen right now to make a delivery, and you are more than welcome to tag along as long as you stop pointing my own gun at me.”

“Why would anyone go to Cyngen?” she asked, looking confused. “Even the Republic barely bothers with them.”

“Because I have a delivery to make, that’s why.” He straightened out his jacket. “Look, it’s cold in here, you mind if we head somewhere else where we can warm up? You can point guns at me in any room on this ship, I promise you.”

“Fine,” she nodded, walking behind him while he headed for the door.

“I didn’t catch your name,” he said.

“I didn’t give it.” She jabbed the gun into his back again.

“This isn’t a good start to our friendship, is it?” he asked, trying to feel her out.

“Fine,” she let out a sigh. “My name is Kat, now can we move?”

“Well, Kat,” he said in a sardonic tone while throwing the heavy door open. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

They walked silently through the ship, and any consideration of giving her the full tour was hampered by the gun pointed at him the entire time. They walked through the ship until they came to the galley. Jace pulled up a stool for himself and motioned at the one across the counter from him. She sat down, still clearly on edge. He knew better than to make any sudden movements, but there was another gun hidden in the drawer behind him, he’d just need to distract her to get to it first.

“How about you tell me about yourself, then?” He broke the silence.

“I’d rather not.”

“Okay, then, how about how you got here? What’s your story?”

“Not much to tell, really.” She looked around uneasily, laying his pistol down in front of her, barrel pointed at him. “Things went south and I ended up floating in the middle of space.”

“I noticed something on your life pod.” He bit his bottom lip, clasping his hands together on the counter. “Other than the fact that it was a pretty big one, I noticed some damage on it. Did you come under fire?”

“You could say that.” She stared down at the gun, not making eye contact.

“Not very talkative, I get it, I’m a stranger and all.”

“I need to get to Cyngen,” she said.

“As I said, that’s where I’m heading, you can hitch along if you like, you just can’t point a gun at me the whole time.”

“I have no reason to trust you.”

“No, I guess not,” he drummed his fingers on the table absentmindedly, causing her to raise the gun up further. “Oh, sorry, a nervous habit.”

She motioned with her head toward his hand. “So where is your wife?”

“My wife?” He looked up at her, puzzled. “Who said anything about my wife?”

“That ring on your finger did.” She motioned with her head toward his hand. “Is there anyone else aboard this ship that I need to know about?”

“Oh, right.” He found himself absently playing with the ring, twisting it on his finger. “Sometimes I forget that this thing is still there.”

“I don’t need the whole story, just need to know who else is aboard this ship.”

“It’s just me,” he said. “Just lonely ole’ me.”

“So she left you, then, huh?” Kat asked.

“No,” he hung his head, carefully choosing his words. “She’s dead.”

“Likely story.”

“I’m a lot of things,” he said, “but when it comes to my wife I don’t joke around.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Oh, you know, it was over seven cycles ago now, I’m used to it. I travel alone now.”

“So it’s just you aboard this big freighter?”

“Yep.”

“Can I have access to your ship’s scanner to see for myself?”

“Oh, right. Look, I’m going to reach for my holoscanner right now, but I’m gonna do it slowly so don’t think I’m up to anything, alright?”

“Fine,” she said. Jace kept his right hand on the table and moved his left to his belt. There was no way he could reach behind him for his hidden gun without her noticing, so he snapped the lock on his holoscanner and placed it down on the table in between them.

“Just…” He began explaining where to find the scanner to her when she snatched it up with her free hand and began tapping away. “So I guess you know where to find the scanner, then.”

“I’ve been around ships my whole life,” she said, trying to keep an eye on him while she pulled up the info. “The scan is clean.”

“Just like I told you.”

“I guess so,” she said, slightly lowering the gun.

“See, you don’t need that.”

“How do I know you don’t just make puppy dog eyes at every girl you bring on board with some sob story about your late wife to lower their guard?”

Jace just laughed, letting his guard down.

“Hey, I’m serious here.”

“You’re a trip,” he said. “You’ve probably seen some shit. My wife is dead, you can trawl through Republic records to confirm it if you want. Because shit, that is something I’d lie about, right? Why not? I’d lie about the only person I ever cared about being dead just to make a pass at some girl I just met.”

“Okay, okay, fuck,” she said.  “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“No, no,” he said. “It’s okay. I understand. I’m just some guy out here, you don’t know me from the next goon. I took Ro’s death kinda hard and ever since then I’ve kind of kept to myself out here, making runs on the fringes. I’m not very fond of the Republic either, you know. Nobody making runs on the fringes is getting fat Republic contracts, that’s for sure.”

“I guess not,” she nodded, not making eye contact. “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to her?”

“I do mind,” Jace stood up, looking around the galley before finding the packet of cherry protein he had pulled out before, tearing it open and taking a big bite from it. The packet lay right by the drawer where the gun was hidden, but the situation felt like it was diffusing itself, so reaching for it would only make things worse.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to pry or anything, was just making conversation is all.”

“How about this.” He turned to face her, taking another bite of the grainy protein syrup and swallowing hard without really tasting it, not that there was much to taste anyway. “You don’t ask about my wife and I don’t ask why you are on the run, that sound good?”

“That works for me,” she nodded, tapping her fingernails against the cold steel counter.

“Now can I have my damned gun back, already? I promise I won’t shoot.”

“Erm, well…”

“Look,” he said. “There’s another gun right here next to me so if I wanted to shoot you I could have already. See?” He slid open the drawer and showed her his spare gun, and she frowned at it and shook her head.

“I guess,” she said. “I mean, I still don’t know if you’ll…”

“If I’ll what? This way we’ll both have our guns. I promise not to shoot if you don’t.”

“Alright, alright, fine.” She slid it across the counter, and Jace caught it and slipped it back into his holster.

“The charge pack as well,” he said as he shot her a mischievous smile.

“You’re perceptive, I’ll give you that.” She reached into her pocket, presenting the small battery pack and sliding it across the counter into his hand. “I’ll still be watching you, though.”

“I don’t know how long you plan on hitching along with me.” He slid the battery pack into the handle of his pistol, powering it on and reading the level before placing it back into the holster. “But I’ve got a few rooms down below, you can pick whichever one you want. I’m sure you are tired after being in a life pod for as long as you were.”

“That’d be great, yeah.” Kat seemed uneasy still, but at least Jace didn’t have to scramble for his hidden gun.

Katrijn

The quarters aboard the Pequod were small but inoffensive. Jace seemed alright enough, but she kept an eye on the door, with her concealed knives and gun in reach just in case. The whole dead wife thing kind of took her for a loop and broke down her ability to keep a gun trained on him, but she didn’t exactly trust him just yet. Trust was in short supply for her, especially after what had just happened aboard the Goliath. She replayed the last few moments aboard the Goliath in her head and shuddered at the thought. She had trusted Rodan and even paid him well enough before a transmission came through from the Andlios Republic. Cronus’s power was absolute, after all, and if he wanted her dead that is how she’d end up sooner or later. That journey she had booked to Cyngen had cost her every last credit she had left, but she knew that she couldn’t have stayed much longer on Omega Prime after the last sweep from the Republic, considering how close she came to being captured. Rodan had seemed like a good guy until a better offer rolled in.

Life on the run wasn’t easy for Katrijn, but it had been all she had known for most of her life. She cursed the name of her brother, Cronus Freeman, night and day for refusing to give up on his relentless search for her. Their father, Jonah Freeman, was the hero of Andlios and had kept the peace for years, but her brother was another story altogether. It was a reign of terror from the beginning, with there even being whispers of Cronus being responsible for their father’s death. She knew it in her heart that he had something to do with it, that him accusing her was just an elaborate smokescreen, a way to focus the rage over losing the emperor for the people. The convenient apothecary who claimed she had bought poison from and who Cronus promptly executed was all the convincing she had needed to go into hiding and she was never able to look back.

After a brief nap, she stretched out, checking the charge on her pistol before deciding to do some exploring. Some might call it prying, but she needed to know who she was aboard this ship with. The last time she had trusted someone aboard a ship it turned bloody in a hurry and ended with the ship being blown to bits and her left for dead, floating alone in a luxury life pod. She shuddered. There wouldn’t be any luxury life pods aboard this ship, she thought to herself.

She pulled open the heavy door to the quarters, which was mildly obnoxious considering she had come from a ship that was automatic everything, but it was somewhat endearing to be aboard a ship that had some character to it. This ship had nothing but character, although perhaps a bit too much for her liking. Standing on the other side of the door was Jace walking by to his quarters, almost suspiciously.

“Oh, hey,” he turned red. “I was just going to read for a bit or something. I had to come up with a new course, but everything is back on track to arrive at Cyngen in about four days.”

“Great,” she smiled, fixing her hair and straightening out her jacket.

“Hey, since you don’t have a gun pointed at me this time, how about I give you a tour? I figure you should be comfortable for the next three days after all, right?”

“That’d be good, yeah.” She stretched out. Kat still didn’t feel quite comfortable around him just yet, but he was mildly endearing in some puppy dog kind of way. Not endearing enough for her to leave the gun behind, though.

“Well, you already know the quarters down here,” he nodded at the door to the room she was staying in. “You’ve been to the galley and the cargo hold, let me show you to the control deck. Although, fair warning, it is pretty messy.”

“That doesn’t bother me.” She appreciated his honesty, laughing to herself at how he projected the image of a tough loner but that was undoubtedly a front. He did a poor job of hiding how much of a front it was.

“Okay, good.” He motioned for her to go in front of him, which gave her pause. She stood frozen, shaking her head, letting him walk in front of her, carefully walking through the narrow hallway to a set of stairs. Most of the ships she had been on that were this size had a lot more of it personalized. You wouldn’t find bare metal steps, instead, there would be some level of customization, like even some rough carpeting thrown over it to pad it, but not on this ship.

She stepped up past the last step, walked into what looked like a small lounge only for Jace to come up from behind her. “Yeah, this is kind of a place to hang out or whatever, I’m not sure why it’s right by the control deck, but I didn’t design this ship.”

“It doesn’t look like you’ve done much with this ship at all if I’m honest here,” she said. “Looks kind of stock.”

“I don’t really spend much time in most of it.” He scratched the back of his head nervously before running his fingers through his hair. “Pretty much just my quarters and the control deck. The rest of the ship isn’t really ‘me,’ but those two places are. Just look.” Jace pulled open the door to the control deck, and Kat had to step back to avoid the door while it moved on its hinges. As the door opened, it unveiled a control deck that was carpeted and littered from top to bottom with books—old, hardbound books—and photos all over the cockpit.

“Wow.” She truly felt taken aback at the sight, leaning over and picking a book up off of the ground and thumbing through the pages. “That is a lot of books you have in here.”

“I’m shocked you even know what they are.” He sat down in the pilot’s seat and leaned back. “Most people have only heard of them and have spent most of their lives reading on holoscanners.”

“My father was obsessed with books.” She found her thoughts drifting, only to shake herself back. Kat looked down at the book, closing it to inspect the cover. “VALIS,” she said aloud. “Not sure that I’ve ever heard of this before.”

“It’s kind of weird,” he said. “It’s old, really old. In fact, I’m shocked that it survived this long.”

“Especially with it being on the floor in here.” Kat looked over at Jace only to find him not laughing. “I mean this is old and valuable and sitting on a pile up here.”

“Sure, sure,” he threw his hands up. “Rag on the guy for living his life the way he wants to.”

“You just said that it was rare.” She tossed the book onto the ground back into the pile where she had found it. “Is that how you care for valuables?”

“It’s not like it’s the last one in existence or anything, or that if the hard copies disappeared it would be wiped from our consciousness. You can find it via holoscanner like everything else in mankind’s sordid, confusing history.”

“Oh, Freyja. You aren’t one of those Mankind Truthers, are you?”

“What?” He looked up at her, puzzled. “No. Look, alright, there are some things that need answers and I’m not sure that—”

“You are, wow.”

“Hey, our history is fucked up,” Jace said. “I’m not sure where we came from, what came first, you know.”

“You mean the chicken or the egg?”

“What?”

“Nevermind.” She shook her head. “So is this your play, then? You take a girl into the cockpit of your ship to show her your book collection and your devil may care attitude?”

“My play?” He grimaced.

“You know what I mean.” She walked around the cockpit, inspecting the photos along the wall before stopping on one of Jace, looking a bit younger, with a woman. They looked happy together. Katrijn plucked it from the wall, pointing the photo at him. “Is this your wife?”

“Ugh,” he groaned, snatching the photo out of her hands and almost bowling her over in the process. He traced his fingers along the hull, finding the exact spot on the wall where the photo was and sticking it back into place, rubbing it a few times with his fingers to ensure that it stayed put. “Do not fuck with those, please.”

“I’m sorry,” she found herself reaching for her knife at her waist just in case, but holding off. “I didn’t mean anything by it, I just…”

“No, it’s fine,” he took a few deep breaths. “I’m sorry. I just get touchy about Ro’s stuff sometimes.”

“I understand,” she said, thinking back to the spot she found herself in. He seemed harmless enough, but she would feel infinitely more comfortable when she was off his ship and on Cyngen.

“So let’s talk about why you are on the run here,” Jace stared out the window, fidgeting with a few controls absent-mindedly.

“I thought that was off limits?” She tsked.

“It was,” he turned back to her, smirking. “But so was anything about my wife, yet here we are.”

She let out a sigh, turning the copilot’s seat to face her and sunk down into it. The leather felt cold to the exposed skin of her back while she let the chair envelope her. Katrijn didn’t want to give away too much about herself, especially to Jace. He seemed alright and all, but she had learned her lessons the hard way about trusting someone while on the run. The chair turned to face the window, Katrijn gazed out into the abyss, stars streaking past the window like a giant blur of light.

“My father is dead,” she started, carefully selecting her words. “After that happened, everything fell apart. I had a lot of expectations for me, but it was too late for me to fix anything. He was so blind.” She had compartmentalized all the trauma from it over the cycles on the run that she was finally able to control her emotions while thinking about it. “He didn’t see what was happening. I had to run, I had no other choice but to run. If I stayed, I would have been killed, just like he was. They didn’t want me in their way. So I ran.”

They both sat in silence, Jace pretending to be engrossed in the readouts in front of him but clearly just trying to avoid saying anything else. She felt bad about making him uncomfortable, but she was so used to being uncomfortable and on edge herself that it came naturally to make any situation she was in a lot worse. If he had known who she was and how much of a bounty was out on her head what would he do? she wondered.

“That’s terrible,” he finally broke the silence.

“That’s life,” she tugged her leg up onto the chair, hugging it close to her chest. “What can you do but just deal with the hand you were dealt?”

“Ro was killed by one of Freeman’s men,” he admitted, the words tumbling out of him clumsily, awkwardly filling up space around them. “She was an activist, rallying against his repealing of the Information Freedom Act that Cronus’s daddy dearest had passed before his death. Cronus had them all slaughtered, right there in the street, in front of the whole world to see. We weren’t allowed to collect the bodies, they were left to rot out in the streets to leave a message, I guess. I, just…”

He didn’t finish his thought, but he didn’t need to. Rumors of Cronus’s abuses of power had spread throughout the Republic, although many didn’t believe them and felt that they were exaggerations. He had many faults and, sadly for Jace, one of those was his affinity for the dramatic. Cronus had a particular disdain for activists and anyone who attempted to undermine him in public. Usually, the families of his victims were given hush money in hopes of them not going to the press. They were forced to sign legally binding agreements that forbade them from speaking publicly about their ordeals, by the punishment of death. She never thought she’d actually meet someone who lived through that, especially not out here.

“So that’s how you got the money for this ship.” She hugged her leg closer and shivered.

“Yeah,” he let out a sigh. “It was her last gift to me. There was a video from one of the reporters that was on the scene…” He paused, looking visibly angry. Jace took a deep breath. “But because I was a coward, because I took the damned money, nothing could come of it. I still have the blasted thing tucked away in my bunk, too.”

“I knew it was bad.” She rested her chin on her knee. “But not that bad.”

“We are all just pawns in Freeman’s little game at this point.” He stared forward, his eyes fixed on the screens. “That’s why I’m out here, that’s why I’m away from all of it. I make my living doing odd jobs for people out on the fringes and keep my distance from the heart of the Republic.”

“I know what you mean.” She bit her bottom lip. “I’ve been running my whole life. We aren’t that much different in that way, I guess. By the way…” She pushed off of the dashboard with her right leg, spinning toward Jace, catching her foot gracefully on the side of his chair to stop her momentum. “What exactly is it that you are delivering anyway?”

“Just supplies, mainly,” Jace said. He looked sullen, clearly having some repressed memories stirred up had jarred him. “Each of the fringe planets are habitable in their own ways, but they all lack a few things that make human life comfortable—or even possible—so what I do is go from planet to planet making deliveries of the stuff they need. So we are headed to Cyngen and while Cyngen has lush forests and wildlife there, for a planet full of Cymages, it lacks any significant source of silicon.”

“Really? Silicon?” She said. “So you are transporting a bunch of silicon? I thought that stuff was everywhere and pretty common?”

“It is, but the trace amounts that were on Cyngen have either been used up or it isn’t electronic grade. They don’t use it for much anymore, and most complex electronics need only small amounts of it, but it’s still integral. So I’m coming from Kriyar, which is a desert planet that has an abundance of silicon but doesn’t have much fruit. Kriyar and Cyngen have a pretty good system set up where they trade with each other and I’m the middleman. Both sides pay me upon delivery.”

“So you just go back and forth between those two planets?”

“Not exactly. I work with about half a dozen planets right now on the fringe that all interact with each other in some way. I’m not the only one who does this, but my reach is probably the widest thanks to the Pequod being the ship that she is.” Jace reached out and patted the hull of the ship.

“Well, at least you aren’t smuggling or anything,” she laughed, turning back to the window.

“Who says this is legal?” He shook his head. “It should be, but the Republic tries to have its hand involved in all trade. Thankfully their security out on the fringes is a bit more relaxed than it is in the core.”

“That is actually a weight off of me.”

“What do you mean?”

“That means that we are both outlaws.” She raised an eyebrow at him playfully. “It means that we both have a lot to lose by getting caught. Jace, I think that I might be able to trust you for a while.”

“That’s good.” He scratched his head, looking uneasy. “I guess?”

001. The Princess in Exile

Alva

Alva gripped her mechanical right fist and outstretched her arm, still amazed that it was an extension of her body. Of course, that amazement wasn’t the same as the shock at her still being alive and half machine.

“Princess.” From the recesses of the cold, sterile room came the subtle hiss of a mechanical voice. It was softer and more saccharine than the usual harsh Cydonian voice. This voice was unmistakable—it was the voice of her Trella. Throughout her time on the Cydonian planet of Cyngen, she had never grown accustomed to the abrasive tones they spoke in, but Trella’s had become lyrical to her ears, especially in comparison to the buzzing that emanated from their leader, Trallex.

“Yes, Trella?” She turned to see the Cydonian woman, her long black curls falling from the back of her mask and her hood uncharacteristically riding on her shoulders and not covering her head like it usually did. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

“How are you feeling, Princess Alva?” Trella asked. When Alva had first awakened inside a CyTank from her nightmarish death, screaming out in horror, it was the face of Trella that greeted her. Alva’s last memory was fresh in her mind when she woke up: the image of an Earth Ministry soldier swinging her own pulseaxe down at her face while brandishing a sadistic smile. When Alva leapt from the CyTank a naked, screaming, crying mess into the arms of Trella, the Cydonian did not pull away but did her best to assure her—in her own, cold way—that everything would be alright.

“Better,” she nodded, flexing her right hand. Alva had grown up since then, and was now a young woman with her red hair collected into a traditional Krigan braid as well as the figure and experiences of a woman. She was more muscular than the average woman, but she was definitely a woman, a sharp contrast to her youth when she was often confused for a boy. “Stronger, that’s for sure.”

“Good,” the Cydonian nodded. Alva had gotten used to Trella’s subtle cues over the years. The Cydonians showed very little emotion, so even the slightest gesture had to be analyzed to be understood. Trella was pleased. Her new life on Cyngen was all about understanding these cues.

Cyngen was a strange, barely habitable planet, but the Cydonians had done wonders with it in the last twenty cycles. Cydonia was at one point the last true metropolis on Andlios for the Cydonians, unscathed by outsiders for over 1,000 cycles. Cydonia was not only the birthplace of their people but also the place where they had flourished and nurtured their culture without concern of outside influence. Jonah Freeman’s Andlios Republic quickly remedied those cycles of isolation and the great doors to the city were opened up to all. The secrets of the Cydonian way were still neatly hidden beneath from the outsiders, but quietly the heart of Cydonia moved off-world to Cyngen. Cyngen was the living vision for what Cydonia should have been: unimpeded technological advancement and a place where Cydonians could evolve the way they chose to. Cyngen was still technically a part of the Andlios Republic but it was located on the fringes with many other planets and moons that escaped the icy grasp of the new emperor, Cronus Freeman.

“You should wear your hair down like that more often,” Alva remarked, leaning over to lace up her boots. “It looks nice.”

“Oh,” Trella buzzed. Alva knew that Cydonians cared very little for outward appearances and that their preferred method of reproduction was via genetic engineering, so sex and appearance mattered very little to them. She also knew they didn’t really know how to respond to compliments, but she did it anyway. “Thank you, Princess Alva.”

“Trella,” she said. “You know you can drop the whole ‘princess’ thing, right? We are out here on the fringes, far from Andlios and far from Krigar; I’m not royalty, I’m just Alva.” A pang of pain in her arm reminded her of the large portions of her body that were mechanized and continually working to not only keep her alive but also to make it appear as nothing had ever happened to her. She was self-conscious of her implants at first, always wearing long-sleeved shirts to obscure how much of her right arm had been replaced by biomechanical parts, but after years with the Cydonians, she had grown to be proud of her implants.

“You are the rightful heir to the Krigan people, Alva.” Alva could sense the pause before saying her name, Trella having to force herself to break the habit of calling her “princess.” “Eventually you’ll have to get used to that.”

“I’m pretty much living in exile out here,” she sighed. “In fact, everyone thinks I’m dead. My father may have been the Jarl of Krigar, but he’s dead, as are most who remember him or even knew who I was. They don’t care if I’m alive, or that I was technically dead…”

“Let us not lament on that.” Trella reached out and placed her cold hand on Alva’s left shoulder—the human shoulder. “Someday you will return to their society as a herald from the Cydonians, serving as a bridge between the cultures.”

“I guess.” She felt a chill run up her spine. She knew that the Cydonians had always had a plan for her, but it was a hard pill for her to swallow that she was some great leader laying in wait for the right moment to ascend to the throne. Her father had been a truly great man and the video that Trallex had captured of him after her death had broken her heart when he played it for her. He had pleaded with Trallex to bring her back, only to change his mind and decide not to play with her life as such. She still didn’t know how she found herself among the living or why, but that topic was a touchy one among the Cydonians. “I just don’t see myself in that way.”

“You will, Princess,” Trella slipped up again, but it was okay. “Are you ready for your training today?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” She stretched out her arms, her right arm feeling like a natural extension of her body while she walked toward her pulseaxe hanging on the wall. The pulseaxe, a symbol of strength and hope to her people, was a symbol of destruction to the Cydonians, and her possessing one was an act of unmatched benevolence. The phantom pains had dissipated over the few cycles since she had woken up to find herself part machine and her movements had become a bit more natural, but she still recognized the differences and yearned for her body to be whole again, thus the phantom pains. “Oh yeah, I’ve always wondered, is this really my pulseaxe?”

“No, Princess,” Trella shook her head, her voice slightly breaking up through the mask. “It was as close of a replica as we could provide from our records, of course with our own modifications.”

“Yeah.” She effortlessly snatched it up from the wall, feeling the weight of it in her hands. “I guess that was too much to ask for, right? I’m not even the original me if you think about it.”

Trella let out what might be considered a slight laugh, which, coming from a Cydonian, felt as out of place as she felt being immersed in their culture after a lifetime of being raised to lead her own people, the Cydonian’s natural enemy, the Krigans. Just like Alva had learned to adjust to their culture, Trella was picking up some of the minutiae of her human roots. In a way, it was endearing and kind of cute. Alva tapped a few commands into the panel on her right forearm, the wall in front of her parting to reveal the training grounds, filled with holograms of Andlios Republic soldiers and different mockups of Andliosian structures.

“Shall we commence with today’s training, Princess Alva?”

“By all means.” She shot a confident smile back at Trella. “I’m ready.”

002. The Palace

Kara

The empress regent sat listlessly, resting her head in her hand, which was propped up against the ornate arm of the throne atop the dais in the Great Hall. Her son, the emperor, was holding court, which he had been doing with less and less frequency of late. Cronus sat atop his monstrous and ominously decorated throne in the Great Hall where his father had held court on a daily basis for many cycles, operating a low-level emulation of Jonah’s court. The throne was made of iron that was stained to look like driftwood and adorned with human skulls on spikes jutting ominously out from the top. When Kara had met Cronus’s father on the Omega Destiny all those years prior, she never imagined herself the empress of a vast empire, more alone than ever, tasked with keeping her royal son in line.

Jonah had been a bit off in a lot of ways, even aloof at times, but something about him was magnetic to her when she first met him at work. He had handled himself like he was the most important person in the room, even if he wasn’t. That didn’t matter to him, though, because he knew who he was and wasn’t afraid to display it for the entire ship to see. He was more complex than that, though, like all people were. At the time, she herself was lost, a sharp contrast to the cocksure Jonah, who acted untouchable. Of course, the real Jonah was a mere mortal, which had caused some friction for them early on. Their relationship was destined for failure, which only made their eventual marriage that much more of a strange story.

Things were so complicated, from the meddling Jonah did that led to her father’s suicide, to the events of Andlios Independence Day, where she felt there was no other choice than to shoot him in the stomach after she watched him kill a guard. It was a tale she had told Cronus and Katrijn many times while they were growing up, often at Jonah’s urging while he smiled and listened intently, hanging off every small detail. Jonah had found the whole thing to be a laugh riot, especially considering how things had worked out. He became the emperor of a vast Republic and Kara became his wife.

“Are you certain she was destroyed?” Cronus’s bark shook her out of her daze. Her son was animated on his throne, decorated in an elaborate silk tunic adorned with gold embroidery. His hair was short and wavy, a crown of pure gold keeping it at bay. The crown itself was fashioned to appear like driftwood—much like the throne—hearkening back to Krigan history, but that was at Kara’s urging. He refused to wear a crown of driftwood, so it was a compromise to have it appear as such. Cronus was barking at one of his admirals, who was on one knee in front of the altar. It was Admiral Baca, an older man pushing sixty who had put on a considerable amount of weight of late, his face ruddy and rounded, his hair a broken crown of grey that was neatly trimmed.

“Yes, sire,” he nodded, finding it difficult to keep his balance for so long on one knee. “There was no way she could have escaped, there were a few life pods jettisoned but—”

“But?” Cronus sprung to his feet, his face turning red and his admiral cowering ever-so-slightly. “I want certainty, Admiral Baca, not buts!”

“I’m sorry,” Kara interjected lightly. “But what is this we are talking about again? I must have drifted off.”

“Like you are prone to do, Mother.” He sat back down forcefully, his arms crossed. “We are talking about that traitor Katrijn! We’ve finally found her after years of hunting her down, but Admiral Baca here has some ‘buts’ to add to his report.”

“Oh.” She let out a deep breath. Katrijn had fled right after Jonah’s passing, under strange circumstances. Her relationship with Katrijn was not as strong as the girl’s relationship had been with her father, but it still hurt her to think of her daughter doing something so unspeakable as killing her own father. Cronus had led the investigation, uncovering the poison that was used and linking it back to a Helgean apothecary, who was promptly executed. All signs conveniently pointed toward her daughter, even if it made no sense at all to anyone who knew her and the relationship she had had with her father.

“Did anyone think to check the pods? To physically check them?” Cronus snarled.

“No, sire,” the admiral shook his head, sweat beading on his brow. “We scanned them for life signs and we found none, though. There was no way the princess could have escaped without us—”

“She is a traitor!” Cronus shouted over him before he caught himself and lowered his voice. “She is a traitor, Admiral Baca, she lost the right to be called princess when she murdered my father. Bringing her to justice is not a personal vendetta or quest, it is so that the people of the Andlios Republic can rest knowing that my father’s soul will finally have peace.”

“I understand,” the older man nodded intently. “I apologize profusely for not being more thorough, but I am very certain that she is dead, my king.”

“Is that a certainty that I can take to my people, a certainty that their children can sleep safe tonight because Katrijn Freeman, the traitor, has finally been brought to justice?”

“I would stake my career on it,” the man nodded. Kara felt a chill creep up her spine. The whole situation had never felt right to her before and the idea of her daughter being dead or even being the murderer could never sit well with her.

“Admiral Baca has served us well, my dear son.” She felt the need to interject, to end the whole charade. “If an honorable man such as himself is willing to wager his career on it, I believe that is proof enough.”

“Fine.” He waved his hand at her dismissively. “Then it is settled. I will make a decree this afternoon that the traitor, Katrijn Freeman, is no more. That my father the king has been avenged after ten long cycles. Where is O’Neil?” he barked to no one in particular.

“Right here, my lord.” Minister O’Neil stepped into view, just a few cycles shy of eighty, but still somehow looking no older than sixty. His face was tired and haggard, his clothes were plain, but looks were deceiving in the case of Peter O’Neil.

“I want a proclamation written up before the sun sets that Emperor Cronus Freeman has finally avenged his beloved father. You can do that, can’t you old man?”

“Of course.” O’Neil bowed to him before walking off, leaving Kara feeling uneasy.

“If you don’t mind, my dear son.” She stood up and feigned a yawn. “This has all been so tiring for me.”

“That’s fine.” He was clearly weary of her interruptions. “We’ll have no further need for you here, Mother. You are dismissed.”

“Thank you, my son.” She stood, turned to him and slightly bowed before gathering up her skirt and heading toward the corridor behind O’Neil.

O’Neil

O’Neil felt a hole growing inside of him, a cold, empty blackness that he wasn’t sure he’d ever overcome. It had been ten cycles since the death of Jonah Freeman and in those ten cycles he had done everything in his power to keep Cronus in line, but the boy was drunk on power from the start. If Katrijn was truly gone then there was no hope for the Andlios Republic and everything that Jonah and he had built all of those cycles prior was for naught.

There had been infrequent contact between himself and Katrijn since she ran, only slight glimpses into her world on the run while she would sense how the years in Cronus’s service had worn him down. The fact that O’Neil was still in contact with her was a closely-guarded secret, though. O’Neil had worked with the Freemans since Jonah hatched his plan to send the Fourth Fleet packing, but it felt like a lifetime ago. After Jonah died, O’Neil quickly went from working with the Freemans to working for the Freemans. The role of prime minister went from one that was vital to the Republic’s operations to one of ceremony and little value. He had done everything in his power to ensure Katrijn’s safety, her being the ace up his sleeve to help restore order to the Republic, but that hope was waning with every passing moment he didn’t hear from her. Could she really be gone?

“Prime Minister O’Neil,” Kara’s voice echoed down the hallway. He had never had a great relationship with Kara Freeman, but he remained cordial with her. In truth, he had never trusted her nor had he ever approved of Jonah’s marriage to her. It felt like one of convenience more than anything else. Jonah was the new emperor and there was a strange fascination with his love life.  At the time, they were so focused on simply restoring order and wanted to give people something to focus on, so the marriage between the two was the perfect distraction. That isn’t to say that Jonah didn’t care for Kara, though. He knew that Jonah loved her, but O’Neil himself never got much of a feel for Kara. She was just a part of the package and he dealt with her accordingly.

“Your Majesty.” O’Neil turned and slightly bowed, favoring his right leg. After his accident it never quite worked the same, but it was the least of his worries at that time. “How can I serve you?”

“Are we really supposed to communicate like this?” She sounded downtrodden, and he simply shrugged. “Have we not known each other for a long time now, Peter?”

“I guess we have, Kara.” Her name felt foreign coming out of his mouth after years of referring to her as the empress of Andlios. He visually inspected her, noticing the lack of color in her cheeks. “Are you alright?”

“Do you think it’s true about Katrijn?” she whispered, nervously looking back to the doors to the Great Hall. “Is she really gone?”

“I…” O’Neil paused, taking a deep breath and reaching to the small console on the left side of his chest. He rarely ever noticed the Cydonian implants, but there were certain times when all he could do is think about the mechanisms that existed inside him after his accident and how they’d impacted his life. He hadn’t taken the time to think about how this would all affect Kara. She was the girl’s mother, after all, and clearly loved her. The guilt built inside him for not telling her for cycles that Katrijn was alive and on the run, but he never knew who to trust, even her. “I’m not sure, really.”

“Admiral Baca seems to think so.” She took his arm and walked with him away from the Great Hall, speaking quietly, her eyes darting back and forth. She definitely seemed paranoid to him, but he understood the feeling.

“As I said, I’m really not—”

“No,” she said. “Don’t treat me like I’m a fool, Peter! I’m not a fool. I may be forced to play one for my son and for everyone else, but you know that I’m no fool.”

“I’m sorry, Kara.” He looked into her eyes, noting her resolve. It broke his heart to see her like this and made him feel like a lesser being for leaving her in the dark for so long.

“Then tell me what you know.”

“Fine.” He still wasn’t sure if he could trust her, but he knew that if he just dismissed her, things would only get more difficult for him within the palace walls. “But we need to head to my quarters.”

They walked in silence through the great palace, which was a mixture of ornate, classical Andliosian-style decor and modern, sleek Earth-like decorations. O’Neil made note that Kara Freeman had aged quite gracefully into her fifties and had done so without the aid of Cydonian technology. Cydonian implants were not all that uncommon but were definitely frowned upon by the elite of Andlios, which was why O’Neil had kept his modifications a secret. Her hair remained hazelnut brown and her face showed minor signs of aging, but overall she didn’t look much different than she did when they had first arrived on the planet. She was actually more slender now than she was when O’Neil had first met her, but she was still in her early twenties then and didn’t have many worries.

Things had changed in a hurry for all of them after the Fourth Fleet left. O’Neil became Jonah’s right-hand man and Kara became Jonah’s wife, followed quickly after by the birth of their two children, Katrijn and Cronus. Katrijn was the firstborn and while she wasn’t a son, Jonah had no concern over that and had spent most of his time with her, helping to shape her and prime her for the stresses of a life in service to the Republic. O’Neil was tasked with aiding her when the time came, but the girl had a mind of her own and was forced to flee after the mysterious death of her father. He couldn’t blame her, really. There was no way he could have kept her from Cronus’s clutches without being labeled a traitor himself.

O’Neil placed his hand on the scanner beside the door to his quarters and held his eye in place in front of it while it scanned his retina. Both independently verified his DNA before unlocking his door. There were overrides and exceptions to it, but it always made him feel safer knowing that no one was allowed into his small wing of the palace without his approval. He ushered her into the room and let the door close behind them with an ominous noise of the door sealing shut.

“I know you’ve spoken with her,” Kara broke the silence while O’Neil walked down his hall into the room on the right, which was his study.

“Come in.” He motioned toward her. “I’ll make some tea.”

“I don’t want tea, dammit, I want to know about my daughter.”

“And I intend on telling you what I know.” He shook his head, preparing two cups for some tea while heating up some water in a cast iron pot. “This tea is my own blend, I grow it out in the garden and everything.”

“You grow your own tea?” She sat down on the couch facing the window overlooking the garden. “Jonah told me about your gardening, but I never thought it would be this, well…” She picked herself up, walking over to the window and staring out at it. “Intricate.”

“It is my life’s passion,” he said, the water coming to a boil and him carefully pouring out two cups, holding one out to her with great care. “I mean, other than serving Andlios.”

“Of course,” she said. “But that is such an immense garden. I just didn’t know that something like that existed here. I thought Cronus had taken all of the joy out of this palace.”

“Well, he has.” O’Neil took a long sip from his own tea, savoring the flavor but feeling that he could have let it steep for a bit longer. “But he can’t touch anything here. That’s why I wanted to speak with you alone in here, Kara.”

“Are you sure that it’s safe in here?” She looked around the room nervously.

“I’m quite certain. Otherwise, I’m sure I would have been executed and made an example of a long time ago. At least labeled a traitor.”

“Traitor?” She furrowed her brow, prying her eyes away from the window to look back at him. “What do you mean?”

“Kara, there’s something I haven’t been telling you.” He cleared his throat before taking another sip of tea. “Jonah left a message for Katrijn for when he died. He entrusted this message only to me and the day Jonah passed away I played it for her. She let me stay to listen to it, which Jonah had assumed she’d do anyway, but I saw the message. Ever since then I’ve been in contact with Katrijn in secret.”

“So you have spoken to her?” Kara stared down at her hands in her lap, nodding absently while O’Neil felt the weight of that secret leave him finally. He got up to comfort her but she held her hand out and shook her head. “No, I’m fine really, but you’ve spoken with Katrijn? How is she?”

“Last I heard she was fine,” he said. “But this was before that ship was attacked. I haven’t heard anything since.”

“Oh.” She sat back and took a deep breath. “But wait, do you know why she left?”

“It was for her own safety, you have to believe it.”

“Her own safety?”

“This is where it gets complicated.” He pulled his desk chair back and sat down in it, wheeling himself toward the couch to face the empress. “We are pretty certain that Cronus was the one who murdered your husband, or at least was involved in the plot to kill him because Jonah left everything to Katrijn.”

“What?”

“He framed Katrijn—like we suspected he’d do knowing that his father left everything to her—and drove her away.” O’Neil let the silence hang in the air between them, noticing Kara fidgeting on the couch. “I’ve been helping her stay a step ahead of the Republic, which I guess seems to be my lot in life, in a way.”

“What do you mean?”

“I helped Jonah when he was exiled down here and now I’ve helped your daughter,” he explained. “That’s my place in history, at least. I’m okay with it.”

“I’m sorry.” She straightened her back up, immediately looking more regal. “I’m just taking this all in. I had always assumed that Cronus had something to do with his father’s death and never believed that Katrijn had anything to do with it, but…I don’t know.”

“It’s been painful for me to serve under such a monster and to watch all of this,” he motioned with his hand around the room, “just turn into a nightmare. We had a vision of a new beginning for humanity, but instead, it is just like someone hit the reset button and started the whole cycle over again. It makes me wonder if things really can be changed, if we can be saved from ourselves.”

“I don’t even know,” she said. “How can we fix this?”

“That’s what I’ve been working on.” He swallowed hard. “The first thing we gotta do, though, is find out what happened to Katrijn. If any of this is going to change, we need her.”

003. The Plot

Alva

Trallex strode in, looking as confident and strong as ever. From what Alva could tell, not much had changed about Trallex since he first negotiated with her father and Ingen back on Andlios. There was a chance that his insides had been swapped out for newer models, but outwardly he looked almost exactly the same as he was pictured back then. He wore his cape and hood over his simple, elegant mask. The mask had a gold-laced respirator valve near the mouth and a mirrored lens covering his eyes. From what Alva knew (and had seen when wearing one of their masks), there were readouts and information constantly streaming in their viewfinders and they were also able to get a clear picture of their surroundings.

She was exhausted after her workout; they had finally found the perfect settings for her right arm and she was able to fight just like she was able to when she was younger without the holdups and occasional lag like she had been encountering since she woke up to find herself part machine. Alva was always jealous of their masks, asking a few times for one of her own to feel more at home among the Cydonians, but Trallex had insisted that she remain “pure”—or at least as pure as she could under the circumstances. There were already enough augmentations inside her own body for her to start questioning her humanity, so what would the harm be in seeing the universe as they did? That was the argument she had been making to Trallex for months now, only for him to brush it off each time.

“You are finally syncing with your implants,” he hissed, Alva noting a hint of pleasure in his voice. “Good.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, wiping off her brow with a towel while she strode back into her quarters, tossing her pulseaxe onto the couch. “It’s taken so long, but everything finally seems…right? If I could see like you do, though, that might be different…”

“Excellent.” He stood, unmoving, in the center of the room. “It took many cycles to find the right balance of implants for you to remain visibly unremarkable.”

“You really know how to charm a girl.” She wrapped the towel around the back of her neck. “Most would say I turned out just fine.”

He stood there, not making a single noise.

“Oh, come on,” she said. “You guys have no sense of humor.”

“Be that as it may,” he said. “We should begin your training as soon as possible now that you are comfortable.”

“Begin?” She looked over at him, puzzled. She had spent the last few cycles since she was awakened in that tube being operated on and training to ensure that everything worked properly. “I’ve finally got the hang of all of these…things…and you say that I haven’t even started my training yet?”

“Princess Alva,” he hissed calmly, his hands folded behind his back. Trallex began to sit, a chair quickly gliding across the floor and neatly tucking itself underneath him right at the moment he made contact. It was a neat illusion that had always amazed Alva, but she found herself exhausted and confused, not amused by his parlor tricks. “We have a lot to prepare for if you are to bring order to Andlios.”

“Everyone keeps talking about what I’m supposed to be doing,” she said, tossing her wet towel at him, only for it to stop short, dangling in the air before it fell to the ground. “Great move, I never get sick of that one,” she rolled her eyes. “But look, no one can tell me exactly how I’m supposed to bring this balance back to anything. I was dead, you brought me back and I’m thankful, but I’m not sure what you want from me.”

“Your destiny, Alva,” he spat out matter-of-factly.

“My destiny?” She shook her head, letting out a laugh while she stepped back toward her shower. Since Cydonians existed inside of their self-sustaining and self-cleaning encounter suits, the shower was specifically installed for her inside what she could only assume was a place that housed Cydonians.  Alva carefully stripped away her tank top and shorts, tossing them aside before stepping under the special, ionized shower they had developed for her. “It sounds like you want me to just make things easier for the Cydonians is all.”

“You yourself are more Cydonian than you’d like to admit.” He sat, his right leg draped over his left and his hands neatly folded in his lap, waiting for her to be done cleaning herself. Alva knew that he had no interest in her body, nor did any Cydonian really care about carnal desires. She still had a hard time understanding it, but it made her life easier not having to worry about gawking or privacy.

“I guess I am,” she yelled out from under the shower, the water a welcomed distraction after a hard day of training with her implants.

“You know you don’t have to yell,” he quickly interjected.

“I know, your suits can isolate and amplify whatever you want it to, but I feel better this way.” She stepped out from the shower with a towel wrapped around her body, mostly out of habit not humility. “But it’s hard to break such habits. My hearing might be enhanced as well, but I still have years of experience as a human girl, you know.”

“Which is what we’ve tried to preserve in you,” he explained. “You have all of the best improvements we have available to us, all while still retaining an outwardly human form. They’ve looked down upon us for generations, see our ways as cruel or against nature. You are the ultimate Cydonian…”

“I’m not a Cydonian,” she interrupted him, doing her best to ignore the chill that ran down her spine. “I’m a Krigan Warrior. I lived as one and I died like one.”

“That is correct. You died as one. You were reborn as a Cydonian, modified to be able to carry out what needs to be done and to make your destiny a reality.”

“‘What needs to be done?’” She pulled a Krigan jerkin over her head, tugging her wet hair out from under it and letting it fall over the back. “That is some pretty ominous Trallex-speak if you don’t mind me saying.”

“You’ve known your destiny since we rebirthed you, Alva,” Trallex stated, choosing his words carefully. “We’ve treated you like one of our own.”

“But, see,” she said, “there’s always one thing I’ve asked and I’ve asked you this almost daily since I’ve been here, and I’ve never gotten a straight answer to it: did my father ask you to bring me back?”

“You’ve seen the video,” he said. Alva detecting just a glimmer of anger in his voice. Cydonians were not the most emotional of people, but at times little glimmers of emotion would break through their iron veneers. Their respirators hid most of their inflection, but whatever came through gave them away to those who knew what to look for. She had been around him long enough to be able to detect these minor aberrations.

“Yes,” she said pulling her wet braid back and giving it a few tugs to tighten it up. She was due for a full wash of her hair, but with Trallex there talking about destiny, she didn’t dare waste his time. “But it was never conclusive. He never directly said that he wanted you to bring me back. In fact, I’ve seen my own funeral, I’ve seen my own casket lit ablaze on the river. Not many people have had to endure that while watching their father—a strong, proud man—in tears.” Alva realized that she was shouting and caught herself. “No Krigan should have to bear that burden.”

“You are much, much more than a Krigan now, Princess Alva. You are the bridge between our cultures, you are the perfection of humanity and Cydonian. To put it plainly, you are you. No one else is like you.”

“Everyone I love is gone, Trallex.” Alva felt empty on the inside at speaking it out loud. She was more machine than human at this point, but she still felt heartache just the same. “What does Andlios need with me, anyway? What do you?”

“I will answer that in time.” He was attempting to soothe her, which usually just upset her more. “For now, I’m here to help train you.”

“Trallex, leader of the Cydonians is here to train me, Alva of the Krigans?” She jutted her tongue into her bottom lip.

“You know the tenets of leadership are simply to appease the others, that the Cydonians are able to either operate independently or to work as a collective.” He stood up from the chair, outstretching his hand before closing it into a fist. “How we operate is beyond the understanding of most humans, who have never been a part of a collective before.”

“I’m mostly like you now.” She pointed at her right arm, which was bulkier than her left and without flesh, simply metallic, lined with red LED indicators and a console on her forearm. “I’m not a part of the collective, I’m just me.”

“That is where you are wrong.” He reached out for her arm, stopping short to wait for her permission. She pulled away at first, then apprehensively held her arm out and nodded. “Good, now let me enter a few things here and…” He reached into his cape behind his back, producing a small box, no bigger than a thumbnail. “You’ll need to wear these to see as we do.”

“Okay.” She took the tiny box out of his hand, sliding it open to see two tiny flat discs. “What are they? Data crystals?”

“No.” He shook his head, pointing at her eyes. “They are a form of lens; place them in your eyes and we’ll begin configuring them.”

“You are kidding, right?” Alva stared down at them long and hard before shrugging and placing her finger around the outside of one and holding it up to her eye. The light caught it and a brilliant array of colors danced in front of her face. She tilted her head back and felt the cold disc touch her eyeball before she let go, blinking quickly and feeling the strange sensation of the thin disc bonding with her eye. The other eye was just as easy, but it left her feeling strange. “So now what?”

“Just give it a second and—”

“Oh my gods!” she exclaimed, noticing a scroll of text on her right eye, the name “Trallex” neatly hovering over Trallex’s figure in front of her and a full readout of the conditions of the room, time of day, temperature and air pressure. “I can’t believe this.”

“Give it time to bond to your systems.” He was being very careful. “Eventually it will become second nature and anything you can imagine will be displayed before you. Most of us have our displays on our respirator shields, but this is new, this is something we’ve been developing for many years now. You are the first to be given a pair. They will require some maintenance, but not as much as you would imagine.”

“This is amazing,” she muttered to herself, turning around and noting her surroundings, seeing things differently. It was a matter of simply thinking something before her readout adjusted and found any answers she might need. She was able to find both of her birthdates, even her weight and projected strength. “You’ve always had this?”

Trallex simply nodded, hands clenched behind his back. “This is how true Cydonians experience existence.”

“How do you handle it?” She was looking around the room in pure awe, information scrawling through her displays at a fever pace. She almost didn’t know how to handle all of it. It felt like too much for her to process. “There’s just so much going on, so much information.”

“You learn to process it all with time.” He had spent more time with her in her quarters than he usually did, which meant that this wouldn’t be the only gift that day. “But like I said before, today is about beginning your training.”

“Okay,” she nodded, swallowing and trying to ignore the scroll of information that told her Trallex’s body temperature, height and biography. “I hope that means harnessing this insanity.”

“That is just what it takes to be a Cydonian, Alva,” he was trying to sound reassuring, but the respirators made all Cydonians sound monotone and flat when they wanted to actually convey emotions. “What I mean is utilizing your abilities, controlling the ebb and flow of the world around you.”

“You mean like you moving that chair with your mind?” she asked.

“Not with my mind, no.” He shook his head. “Although that is what we want the normals to believe, the truth is much more complicated. I’m here to teach you how to harness these abilities.”

“Wait, harness them?” She looked up at him, confused. She had mentally prepared herself for another long round of modification surgeries, for another augmentation that would make her that much closer to being mostly machine. “You mean I don’t need another mod?”

“The disrupters have already been installed,” he explained. “Now it is just a matter of teaching you to use them. It is just a matter of teaching you the secret that has kept Cydonians feared and respected for many cycles. Today I teach you the theory, tomorrow you will do it for yourself.”

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said. “There is no other way.”

004. The Dark Side of Cyngen

Jace

There hadn’t been a whole lot of discussion between Kat and Jace throughout the last leg of the journey. Jace had adjusted to keeping to himself for so long that he almost didn’t know how to handle dealing with another person occupying space that he never had to share previously. Lingering memories of his past life kept rushing back to Jace, of sharing his home with his wife, Ro, and he had to remind himself that Kat was a stranger who he had just met and who felt most comfortable with a gun pointed at him. Needless to say, he made sure to remind himself to keep his distance. Thankfully, she had kept mostly to herself as well, so those moments of confusion were fleeting, although still painful.

The planet was within visual range when he finally sent a quick message down to the planet. Usually, procedure entailed going through official channels, but due to the nature of his operation, things were different on every planet and at each individual port. Luckily enough, Cyngen had very little in the way of Republic presence that there was usually little chance of hitting any snags when heading down to the planet. His panel lit up and he peered down to see a set of coordinates.

Cymages weren’t huge on names and didn’t really break up their civilizations by cities or anything like that. Cyngen was Cyngen. That meant that the entire planet was technically Cyngen and that no specific portion of it was differentiated from the other by anything other than numbers. There were no cities, there were no states, it was all just Cyngen. That meant deciphering coordinates for each location, which the Cymages saw as efficient, but Jace figured it was just another way for them to set themselves apart from the rest of humanity. Jace understood that everyone was part of one big, happy family at this point, but it still bothered him with just how different the Cymages handled things; different, but still human. It was human in a way that was obscure and difficult to understand, but still human. These people were merged with machines, but they still had some humanity left in them.

“Kat,” he called onto the comm.

“What’s up?”

“We’re about to enter atmo, you might want to buckle yourself in.” He began punching in the coordinates and preparing the ship to break out of orbit and into the atmosphere.

“I’ve never been to Cyngen,” she said. “I’ll be right up, I want to see this.”

“Alright, I’ll wait,” he replied. “But be quick, these guys run a tight ship down there, and they aren’t fond of delays.”

“Okay,” she said. The blast door swung open and she stepped in about as subtle as an oncoming storm. “See? I’m right here.”

“Good. Strap yourself in then and let’s go.”

She sat down next to him and strapped herself into the chair without another word. He had warned her before about the gravity difference on Cyngen, but she had simply rolled her eyes at that information like it was common knowledge. The gravity on Cyngen was a little less than on Andlios and a few of the other planets in the core of the system but was still a bit more normal than a lot of the fringe planets. It clocked in somewhere near .8gs compared to Andlios, so everything felt a bit lighter, but not overwhelmingly so.

“I’ve heard that the Cydonians are amazing architects, I really can’t wait to see what they can do with a whole planet essentially to themselves.”

“Not the whole planet,” he reminded her. “It’s probably 85% Cymages or so, but there are some regular humans down there as well. There are of course some Helgeans down there in their robes and sandals preaching the word of the Lords as they are prone to do, and some Krigans, Zarr’nid and Omegans looking for new lives as well. It’s a veritable cornucopia, albeit not a huge one. Still.”

“That many non-Cydonians?” She was a bit taken aback.

“Yep, and don’t expect to see much down there—these Cymages build some incredible structures, but they aren’t built for looking at or anything, or even looking out of, since they don’t do windows. Hell, they don’t need to do windows considering they can see through walls and all.”

“Oh, c’mon,” she said. “That’s just another tall tale, there were windows in Cydonia.”

“Cydonia was ancient, just another city on Andlios before the Cymages rose to power there. This is Cyngen, these guys have had decades to evolve their tech. You’ll see.”

“How can a man who interacts with Cydonians on such a regular basis still call them Cymages?” She rolled her eyes at him, causing him to feel self-conscious. “I’m surprised they haven’t done crazy experiments on you like all the Cydoniaphobes claim.”

“Hey, I’m not a Cydoniaphobe or anything.” He felt his stomach turn into a knot and his face turning red. “I have a few good friends that are Cydonians. They are good people, I’m just telling you how they are is all.”

“I guess you do live a pretty singular life aboard the Pequod all alone like this, you can say whatever you want and no one will care. Don’t worry,” she said. “You won’t have to deal with me for long, alright?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you are incredibly difficult to deal with?” He turned to her, shaking his head.

“Once or twice, I guess. I was left a pretty hefty task after my father died, but my brother got in the way. My uncle was really relying on me, but I let him down. I’m sure he’d agree with you.”

“Sounds like my kind of guy.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” She grimaced at the increased gravity as the ship began its descent.

They stayed relatively quiet on the descent down to the planet. The sights were familiar to Jace by now—impressive buildings that looked like giant obelisks reaching up to the sky, breaking through the dusky-colored mountain ranges and sparse flora of Cyngen-like spikes, all without any visible windows and not that many lights. There were a few scattered buildings breaching through the surface, but it almost felt like they were descending into a tomb at first with how little visual movement or stimuli there was on the surface.

“Told you,” Jace said.

“What?” She looked over at him briefly before turning back to the window, enraptured by the scene.

“No windows.” He pointed while the ship maneuvered into a lit landing pad closer to the ground.

“I guess so,” she said quietly. “Hey, where is everyone? Why is this place so dead?”

“Didn’t I tell you they were weird?” The ship touched down on the pad before the platform lurched and began slowly descending into the hangar from the surface, being pulled along by the conveyor belt floor. “It’s pretty late so there won’t be a ton of movement on the surface, but pretty much everything on Cyngen is underground. The atmosphere is breathable, so there are a few outcroppings of human settlements, but like I said, 85%.”

“I’ve known my share of Cydonians.” She sat staring out the window at the giant hangar, a few human crew members operating the equipment, but everything was clean, simple and metallic. “But I’ve never been to one of their settlements like this. Well, outside of Cydonia itself, though.”

“Oh,” he perked up. “You’ve been to their capital, then?”

“I was just a kid,” she said. “My dad had business there, so needless to say, we didn’t get to see much outside of official buildings and whatever they wanted us to see.”

“Official buildings, huh?” He shook his head, wondering what her father had done on Andlios to get an official tour of Cydonia. “Sounds like your dad was an important guy.”

“No more than the next important guy, I guess.” She kept her gaze away from his. “This is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before.”

“You bet,” he said. “Wait until you see the actual city underground, it’s just breathtaking.”

They both sat in silence during the rest of the docking, the sound of the large metal clamps locking onto the landing gear and the sliding platform sliding into place in one of the medium-sized bays. Jace flicked the engines off from standby and ran through his final checks before logging out of the dash and taking a deep breath. He turned to Kat and smiled at her, taking a moment before talking to her to take in the sight of her, getting the feeling that they’d get out there and quickly part.

“So I gotta get down to the cargo hold and open the cargo bay up to get everything sorted out, so you should collect your stuff.”

“Good idea.” She picked herself up, placing her hands on the back of her hips and stretching out. “I’ll meet you in the cargo bay in five, then?”

“Yeah, okay,” he said, the question of what she’d do on the tip of his tongue but he didn’t want to seem like he was overly invested in what happened to her, even if he was afraid they’d never see each other again after they stepped off the Pequod.

Katrijn

Katrijn gathered up what few things she had left and stuffed them into a bag before heading down the hallway toward the cavernous docking bay. The Cyngen docking bay was a large sterile white room with blinding lights, a few doors, and a few control pads around, but lacking in any sort of human aesthetic. It was so Cydonian that it hurt. She had missed her rendezvous by a period of a solid week at this point, which made everything a lot more ambiguous for her. The life pod she had believed would be her tomb stood ominously inside of the cargo hold of the Pequod, sending a chill down her spine. There was a very real chance that Cronus finally thought he was rid of her for good, which meant maybe she shouldn’t make her rendezvous at all and finally just disappear off the radar entirely. Her uncle would miss her, maybe even her mother would miss her, but the stress of worrying about her would be gone as well and maybe she could live an actual life that didn’t involve being on the run all of the time. She could be someone else, anyone else, and finally give up the life of being Katrijn Freeman.

She walked down the ramp of the cargo hold to see Jace running through his manifest with a man in a neatly-pressed black uniform. Neither one paid any mind to her walking by them and taking a seat on top of one of the crates. The thought of being normal, of being almost invisible crossed her mind again and was beginning to feel like a viable option. Jace would probably even let her tag along with him if she promised to stay out of his way while she figured out where she wanted to go. The thought was enticing, but she knew her uncle wouldn’t stop looking for her and she didn’t want to hurt him any more than she had to.

“Everything appears to be in order, Mr. Krios,” the agent said, swiping on his holoscanner a few times. “I’ve sent you the necessary clearances and documents; enjoy your stay on Cyngen.”

“Thank you, sir,” Jace nodded to him and smiled, turning back toward Kat, rolling his eyes while tossing his holoscanner aside on top of one of the crates and letting out a deep breath. “I always hate this part, all of the official stuff, you know?”

“I’m sure,” she laughed, nodding at his feet. “You had to put your boots on.”

“Oh, get off it.” His face turned red and he turned away, snatching up his holoscanner and absently tapping away on it while she laughed at him.

“So where are we headed?” She tapped the heels of her boots back and forth against the side of the crate.

“We? I thought that you had some important meeting here.”

“It can wait.” She hopped off the crate, dusting herself off. “I’m already late anyway, what’s another few days, right? Plus, you told me you’d give me some sort of tour of this place.”

“I guess I did say that, didn’t I?” Jace looked relieved and a bit happy. He was cute when he smiled, she thought while following him along the path toward the door nearest their docking bay. “So we’ll have to get to my buyer through their rapid transport line, but luckily there are windows so we’ll have a nice view of everything.”

“That works for me.” They walked through the door, which zipped open almost silently, just a slight whoosh of air was all there was to signify that it had opened. On the other side was another—albeit smaller—clean and simple room with a series of doors. None of them were marked but he seemed to know where he was going. “How do you know which door to go to? None of them are marked.”

“Oh yeah, that probably seems weird to you, huh?” He held out his holoscanner toward her briefly. “It’s marked on here which door to go to. You see, they have these implants where not only are they seeing everything around them, but they have displays that feed them literally any data they can request. Us mere mortals have to check for this information manually and read it off our holoscanners.”

“Ohhhh.” Things were starting to click into place for her about the Cydonians. “How did I never know about that?”

“Because they don’t disclose it to anyone, that’s probably why.” Another door slid open, revealing a platform overlooking a giant cavernous city. It all existed under the planet’s surface, accented by ominous stalactites and seemingly random cave passages. Kat felt the air get sucked out of her at the sight. She stood there, awestruck while Jace stepped out onto the metal-and-glass enclosure off to the side, looking back at her. “You coming?”

“Uh, yeah.” She had to snap herself out of her amazement and step onto the platform, taking a seat but turning around to look at the sheer size of the city. “I’ve just never seen anything like this before. The topside of the planet was fine, you said, right? So why something so elaborate down here? This is just immense.”

“It was more efficient.” He sat down next to her, leaning back and crossing his leg onto his knee. “The Cydonians are fans of efficiency above all else and an underground city like this was more efficient than dealing with the variable temperatures on the surface and the storms. It’s a bit closer to the sun than Andlios is, so the day is just a bit hotter and the nights are a bit colder. These caves were naturally formed and relatively stable, so they just built and never stopped building.”

“But…” She stopped to collect her thoughts while the car began to glide effortlessly through the air, zipping past buildings that reached up to the top of the cave and most likely stretched out into the surface—just like those buildings she had seen when they were landing. There were a few more windows throughout, but everything was still clean, immaculate and closed off. The figures she could make out didn’t look Cydonian, just human. “All I’m seeing are humans, I mean, like you or I, not Cydonians.”

“They don’t really have a ton of reasons to leave home, believe it or not.” He was absently tapping his fingers on the lip of his seat. “I know there aren’t windows or anything, but they have panoramic screens lining the walls that can give a live display out of their window or display whatever they want. Windows are inefficient, I guess, harder to keep the air pressure, temperature and all of that within the confines of glass, even if it’s sturdy enough for space travel. They cite that it’s imperfect, breakable or that it needs to be replaced periodically, so instead they opt for this.”

“So what, they have cameras mounted everywhere instead?”

“Every building is mounted with a huge array of microscopic cameras, yeah,” he nodded in beat with his tapping. “It’s the same with their ships. There’s a marked decline in depressurizations, for sure. Granted, that isn’t a common thing, but it happens once in a while.”

“But there are still some windows out there, though, for humans, right?”

“Yep,” he said. “They are willing to make exceptions for the right price, it’s just a curiosity to them, well, for the most part.”

“Where are we headed, anyway?”

“Now that is a good question,” he said. “We’re going to see a bit of a strange guy by the name of Jol’or.”

“Jol’or, now that is a weird name.” Her eyes were still stuck to the window, peering out over the horizon. “Cydonian, I assume?”

“Yep,” he said, still tapping out a rhythm on the car. “He’s using a traditional Zarr’nid name, though.

“Okay, so I have a question, then.” She turned to face him, Jace making eye contact and immediately pulling away, bashful.

“Shoot.”

“Why are there windows on this tram?” she smirked, sitting back with her arms crossed.

“I bet you are proud of that one.” He shook his head and jabbed his tongue into the side of his mouth. “It’s because it was designed for humans and by humans. Cydonians don’t travel all that much and when they do, they tend to take their own ground transportation. This was mainly for the workers who can’t afford their own vehicles or don’t have the space to store them.”

“So we are slumming it, then?”

“Pretty much,” he said, still trying to seem at ease. “We’re almost there now. That over there,” he pointed.

“Wait, what?” She looked out at the approaching compound, it serving as a stark contrast to much of the Cyngen landscape. The building looked like it was out of a history book, that was transferred, bit by bit, from old Earth to Cyngen, then meticulously reassembled.

“I know.” He took a deep breath in and slowly let it out before continuing. “As I said before, Jol’or is a bit of a strange guy. Calls himself a Renaissance man, believe it or not.”

“And he’s a Cydonian?”

“Oh yeah, through-and-through.”

“Then how…”

“How and why does he have a home that looks like something out of a holobook from those old Earth palaces? That’s a really good question that I’m not sure I have an answer to.”

They silently approached the tram docking station where they’d get off while the view of what could only be described as a temple grew closer and closer. It featured a lush garden, meticulously groomed shrubbery and a large series of buildings with sharply steeped roofs. She was racking her mind to remember the era and nationality. China—that was it—it looked like an ancient Chinese palace.

005. The Mad King

O’Neil

O’Neil sat on the couch in his office with his repair case lying open next to him, meticulously sorting through it. There were a few tools, diagnostic equipment and a small canister of lubricant inside. Most of his implants were supposed to be able to go for long stretches of time without needing much maintenance, but he still sat down nightly to run diagnostics on them and ensure that everything was in working order. Cydonian technology was still very alien to him, even if there was a growing percentage of it occupying vital space inside his body. He had often wondered if he was just doing this so often because of how uncomfortable he was with having said augmentations inside of him.

He tugged at the buttons on his shirt slowly, pulling it open button by button to reveal his slight paunch, accented by what looked like half a shirt made of flexible steel running up the left side of his ribs up to his collarbone. Krigan culture and mentality still reigned supreme on Andlios and the fear of Cydonian technology wasn’t going anywhere for the time being. Cydonians were a vital part of Andliosian affairs and many had benefited from Cydonian implants in medical emergencies, but among the ruling class, it was seen as a sign of weakness or dishonor to accept such technology into one’s body. Like any other historical ignorance, everything apparently led back to some dispute between Jarl Quorthon and Am’ranth, the original Cydonian, but it all seemed ancient and silly to still matter.

After a few taps on the keypad, he heard the few beeps he was accustomed to and pulled the cable out from the diagnostic computer in his kit and plugged it into the port on the side of his chest next to the panel. O’Neil had been involved in an accident ten cycles prior when someone had attempted to assassinate the emperor with an explosive. Luckily enough for Cronus, the would-be assassin had faulty intel and instead of wiring the emperor’s door with an explosive at their hunting lodge, it was O’Neil’s.

The emperor’s guard had Cronus immediately evacuated without checking to see who might have been injured, leaving O’Neil laying there, left to die. There were a host of Cydonians in the area, including Trallex. Trallex was the one who discovered O’Neil and had immediately arranged for a pick-up, whisking him away to one of their facilities in nearby Cydonia. O’Neil had come around to the idea of dying there, of not having to deal with the idea of serving his friend’s tyrannical son and watching their shared vision for humanity’s future turned into the mockery that it was, but Trallex had other plans. Trallex had never asked him for anything and they never spoke of that again, but the reminder would always be there for O’Neil, especially while his life lasted just a bit longer than it would have naturally while his artificial lungs and heart continued to pump. There was always a part of O’Neil that felt he owed Trallex and the Cydonians a debt of gratitude and wondered if they’d ever come to collect.

The diagnostic had finished running, showing that everything was running fine and that he probably didn’t need to run another diagnostic for at least a month or so, but he’d continue his nightly ritual to remind himself that he was not only alive but also part machine. The whole process kept him grounded. At least that was what he told himself, although he suspected it was more a matter of trust after all these cycles. He knew he could trust his own body, but the augmentations weren’t his body, they were just mechanical imitations. At least he wasn’t Krigan, though. The Krigans despised the idea of the augmentations, even if they were getting along and had supposedly put aside their differences.

O’Neil methodically placed all the equipment back into the case, sealed it and placed it back on the bookshelf. He took a long look around his study and felt very alone inside his cold secure wing of the palace, where no one dared to enter. For cycles he had been the man trying to hold the realm together in secret, but it had led to many things simply passing him by, and now he stood there an old man with no one left to talk to. He let out a sigh and tapped in a few commands at the console on his desk, pulling up a link to Jack. Of course, his old first mate didn’t answer; it was late, probably even later on Andal-3 where Jack lived.

“Hey Jack.” He settled into his hard oak chair, trying not to look too haggard. “Hope that everything is going well for you and Hideo out there on Andal-3. I just wanted to check in, although it’s pretty late here and I have no clue what time it is over there, but just get back to me when you can. I’d love to meet up next time you are back on Andlios. Keep me posted.”

The transmission cut off and he let out a forlorn sigh. Letting Jack go was difficult, but a man of his skills was needed elsewhere and could make a better living for himself off-planet. O’Neil knew it was best for Jack and Hideo, but they were his only real links left to the world outside the palace and he was beginning to wonder how much of his artificially-extended life would be spent as a lonely old man.  Katrijn had been reported dead four days ago now at this point, but she had been in some tight jams before, so chances were that she had made it out somehow. At least he hoped so. O’Neil decided to reach out to his man on Cyngen again, just because.

“Well if it isn’t the Old Man.” The man was beaming a wide smile, but O’Neil could tell he had woken him up. Loren was always smiling, even when the world was falling apart around him, that’s just how he was. The room he was in was a clean polished white, a stark contrast to his dark skin and his neatly-buzzed hair. “What can I do for you at this ungodly hour?”

“Ungodly hour?” O’Neil scoffed, rolling with the pleasantries because he had really just been looking for someone to talk to. “It’s what, 9 in the morning there?”

“So, it’s past 3 in the morning back in Krigar, is it not?”

“You have a point, but since when are you concerned about my well-being, Loren?” Loren was originally a soldier, one who Jack decided needed some help with his return to his civilian life, which led to Loren being under the employment of one of the most powerful men in the Andlios Republic. Men with skills such as Loren’s couldn’t do much else in the world outside of service, so working as his agent seemed to fit him just fine, especially somewhere as remote as Cyngen. As much as Cyngen was technically a part of the Republic, it was so far from the reach of the emperor that things tended to slip out there and O’Neil needed to be aware. He had contacts like Loren all over the Republic, even on the fringes.

“Someone has to worry about the Old Man, don’t they?” His smile only broadened.

“You know I hate that name, Loren.” He shook his head, doing his best to avoid looking embarrassed. He had somewhere along the line earned the moniker of “the Old Man” to everyone, the name somehow indicative of the widely held opinion that he was some shadowy figure really making the decisions. He never bothered correcting anyone either, feeling that it was best to let people believe in their boogeyman. Image was valuable, especially in such troubled times.

“Well, we both know that there is some truth to it, right? You are the most powerful man in all of the Andlios Republic, Peter.”

“Then why can’t I keep track of one girl?” He deftly steered the conversation on-topic, knowing that Loren could talk about nothing for a very, very long time. That was part of what made him so endearing.

“Of course, I don’t just get a call from Peter O’Neil out of the blue now do I?” Loren said. “Nobody worries about Loren, do they? Busting his ass out here.”

“Loren, cut it out.” His tone took a turn for the serious. “There was a report that her ship got blown up, you’ve had no communications at all? I mean, she missed the rendezvous, but…”

“Oh, she missed it alright,” he said. “Look, man, I’ve been keeping an eye out, but I think your girl is gone, Old Man.”

“Keep looking. Check any transports or cargo ships from the last few days, maybe she was able to get out before her ship went down. She’s a smart one, Loren.”

“I’m sure she is, Old Man,” Loren said. “But tell me, Peter, what is it about this one? Why is she so special?”

“I made a promise to an old friend that I’d look after her.” He paused for a second, taking a few deep breaths. “I keep my promises, you know that. This one doesn’t make it easy, that’s for sure.”

“If you can’t keep track of her…” he let his thought trail off, the silence growing between them. “Well, I’ll run some checks, alright? I’ll let you know if something comes up.”

“Thanks, Loren,” he said, the image blinking away.

O’Neil sat in the silence and darkness for what felt like hours, simply staring off into space, picking at his fingernails absently just to keep his mind busy. Katrijn was always the ace up his sleeve, but she was also just about the only play he had left in him when it came to trying to correct the course of the Andlios Republic. Without her, there wasn’t much hope left to dispose of Cronus and attempt to fix things.

The Republic in its current state was a disaster. Cronus’s excesses had led to a divide between the people and the ruling class that was worse than O’Neil could have ever feared. There were talks of the fringe planets breaking off from the Republic and things on Andlios were bleak, to say the least. Katrijn had to leave for her own good, they both knew that. Jonah had plans, but he somehow didn’t plan for his own son to end his life. They had all feared Cronus but never thought he’d go that far that young. They were wrong, though. Power was dangled in front of his face and pulled away from him one too many times, so he took his destiny into his own hands. O’Neil couldn’t blame him, really, but it still led to the death of his good friend, which he would never be able to forgive.

O’Neil’s garden was beckoning to him, even though it was late at night. Some things had changed since his time as the captain of the Omega Destiny, but his garden was still all he had that really felt like his own. Some of the plants were directly transplanted from his garden on the Omega Destiny, meaning that a part of Earth was thriving on Andlios. Of course, there were plants from Earth all over Andlios now, but his felt different, they felt special.

The garden had been tended to earlier in the day, but the air outside was cool and felt soothing after all the worrying he had been doing over the previous few days. He sat down on the bench overlooking his garden and stared up at the stars, feeling pangs of guilt that he ever got off the Omega Destiny. He had a good life up there, even if there were some bumps along the way. He had a wife, he was the captain and he had his garden. Things could have worked out for him up there, but somehow he got infected by Jonah’s fervor. He didn’t regret his decisions, but his life could have turned out a lot differently. O’Neil had made a few visits to Speera, which was a city built mostly from the broken-off modules that were the Omega Destiny, where he had spent a good deal of time before moving to Krigar, but it wasn’t his home anymore, just an ever-fading memory.

His mind jogged back to Dr. Susan Brandis. At first, he had kept track of her, but she made it clear to him that she wanted nothing to do with him and that she had moved on. She was the science officer aboard the Omega Destiny and had fallen for him. He had fallen for her as well, but he was worried about duty and honor first, inadvertently stringing her along for a long time before he finally divorced his wife. Ruining things with her hurt, he couldn’t lie. He had never tried to hurt her but knew deep down that he had never truly opened himself up to her fully, that he never gave back what she gave to him. It hurt to know that he had wronged someone who was so important to him. Hopefully she was happy now, wherever she was. O’Neil made it a point to not look her up, even though on nights like this he wanted nothing more than to be able to talk to her.

A jolt hit him as he looked down at the holoscanner next to him to see that Kara was calling him. It wouldn’t be good, especially not at that hour. “Your Majesty,” he answered, the image of her looking flustered appeared in front of him. She looked exhausted, but clearly, something was bothering her.

“Peter.” She looked like she had seen a ghost. “I’m at the door to your wing, please let me in.”

“Dammit,” he said, picking himself up. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Cronus,” she whispered. “He’s gone mad. Just…let me in, please.”

“Okay,” he collected himself, pocketing his holoscanner and taking a deep breath. What could it be now?

006. The Grand Illusion

Alva

Sweat was dripping down Alva’s face and all of her muscles were aching while she collapsed to her knees in the middle of the training field, fighting to catch her breath. Trallex stood motionless in the corner, arms crossed. She imagined if she could see his face she’d see a disapproving look. For a brief moment, she imagined the look on her father’s face whenever she’d fail to live up to his expectations of her and she immediately wondered how he’d feel about his daughter augmented so heavily and becoming more Cydonian than Krigan. It was most likely better that she couldn’t see Trallex’s expression, she supposed.

She was still Krigan, though, she reminded herself while she pushed herself back up to her feet. A Krigan could face down any situation and do it with honor, which was what she had to do. She couldn’t let Trallex break her. “Again,” his voice hissed out from his mask, echoing through the large room. “Try it again.”

“Okay,” she said, concentrating on the chair across from her and imagining it transporting to her. The key was relaxing, he had drilled into her, but it was hard to be anything but frustrated when it simply wouldn’t work. “I mean, is this not working because you know the trick?”

“It’s not a trick,” he said. “That is your problem—you do not believe. This is about belief, Alva. This is about you believing that you moved the chair. This is not magic, this is science.”

“I know,” she said, more frustrated with herself than the same line of pedantic reasoning. The idea was to manipulate the gravitational field around the chair with the augmentations in her right arm. There was a disruptor module installed in her. None of this was magic, though, it was all about simply dragging it to her while mentally transmitting the idea that it was floating. The module worked on any mind—Cydonian, Krigan, Earther, Zarr’nid or Helgean.

Of course, she didn’t even need to worry about the mental transmissions yet; her main concern was using the disruptor and dragging the chair to her using what felt like arcane magic. She still had a hard time believing that it was, in fact, something a human being was capable of doing, even with the technology they had. They had the ability to move faster than light and the ability to beam matter across moderate distances, but somehow the idea of disrupting a gravitational field with her mind and a few gizmos felt wrong to her.

“Try again.” Trallex casually walked toward her, hands clenched behind his back. “Try again.”

“I am.” Her hand was pointed at the chair and she imagined a field covering the base of the chair legs, traveling up it until she was in firm control of it. Alva imagined feeling like she held the chair in the palm of her hand, being able to tug it toward her. She gave it a tug and the chair started to budge. Slowly at first, but she heard the legs scrape against the floor.

“Good.” His voice remained calm and even. “Now focus.”

She simply nodded to acknowledge him, imagining her grip unwavering on the chair and tugged again, and this time it moved a centimeter toward her, which made her jump back, losing her focus. She gnashed her teeth, focusing again and feeling the chair in her hand only for the thought to slip from her mind, the chair freezing in place.

“No no no. You must not lose focus, Princess Alva.”

“I couldn’t help it.” She took a deep breath, wiping more sweat from her brow. “But I moved it, did you see that? I actually moved it!” It was difficult for her not to feel proud; how many non-Cydonians had ever accomplished such a feat, she wondered.

“So you did,” he said, spinning on his heel away from her. “So you did, but you have much to learn yet.” Trallex’s voice trailed off while he walked toward the door, motioning violently with his hand to open it, the door flying open before he walked out of the room without another word.

Alva collapsed onto her knees again in frustration, balling up her fist and wanting to smash it into the ground, but held back. The last thing she needed was to hurt herself and show Trallex that he was getting the better of her. That was the Krigan in her, she figured—not wanting to show weakness of any kind to an outsider, especially a Cydonian. Tears were clouding her vision, but she focused to keep the tears from exploding onto her face.

“Princess Alva,” a voice came from the doorway. Alva looked up and saw Trella standing in the doorway with a towel in hand. “Trallex told me you were done training for the day.”

“Oh, right.” She couldn’t help but smile at Trella standing there. “You don’t have to always wait on me like this, you know that, right?”

“I know,” Trella’s voice buzzed through her mask, but it was still soothing. “But I choose to.”

“Sure you do.” Alva threw her a wry smile while she walked over to Trella and took the towel from her hand, nodding at her before wiping off her face. “I kind of want to get out of here for a bit, go for a walk or something, get some food. Want to come with me?”

“You know that we don’t really get our nutrition from eating solid food, Princess Alva, but…”

“Oh, I know that,” she said, quickly stepping into the shower and stripping off her soaking wet clothing, tossing them aside into a heap. “I mean, just come with me, most of the restaurants out there have their own brands of special protein packs.”

She stood in the shower, only taking a brief rinse knowing that she could stay in there for at least an hour, but she knew Trella was probably stressing out about her proposed trip out. Cydonians were almost agoraphobic sometimes with how little they ventured much further than their immediate surroundings. They didn’t need to with how they communicated with each other and how most of their work was automated. The thought of that being an option for Alva still kind of amazed her. If she chose to, she too could live like that, but she still held onto her humanity as much as she could.

“So how about it?” She stepped out from the shower with a towel wrapped around her, her hair dripping down her back. “You want to go or what?”

“Yes, Princess Alva,” she said. If her voice could sound uncertain, the tone that she had would probably be it. “I would be delighted to go with you.”

“No, you wouldn’t. And you know you don’t have to call me ‘Princess’ all the time, I’ve told you that so many times. You are the closest thing I have to a friend on this planet, Trella.”

“Oh, Princess Alva…”

“Alva,” she corrected her from the other room, quickly getting dressed into a shirt and a pair of pants with her favorite Krigan boots that she had found in one of the local shops.

“Yes,” she said.

It felt good to be out in the cool, humid air of the caverns of Cyngen. They took a transport to the Seventh District, where most of the non-Cydonians were and walked among what were the brave few who felt like breaking away from Andlios. The area wasn’t actually called the Seventh District, it was just the name the human population had given it, seeing as though the Cydonians took little interest in assigning titles to where they lived. Cyngen was still a part of the Andlios Republic, but the influence of Andlios was very loose on Cyngen. At least that is what Alva had gathered in her years on the planet. She saw very little Krigan influence and everyone had spoken so poorly of Emperor Cronus Freeman.

The idea that Ingen’s son was such a monster was still difficult for Alva to process, but that made Cronus an extended member of her family with Ingen being like a brother to her and all. She knew that someday she would cross paths with Cronus Freeman—Trallex told her it was her destiny—but she tried not to think about her destiny. The thought of what she might have to do to the blood of Ingen kept her up at night, even though it was never explicitly stated that she was to kill him. Trella walked silently next to her and if she was upset she was so used to containing her emotions that it didn’t show, but her body language showed that she wasn’t entirely comfortable.

“I know you don’t always enjoy this, Trella.” Alva turned and smiled at the Cydonian. “But it means a lot to me. I needed to get out of there and get some air.”

“I understand…Alva,” Alva noted the brief pause, but it still made her smile to herself. “How is your training coming along?”

“If you actually want to know, not that great,” she said, leaning up against a railing overlooking the city below them. They were up on one of the many walkways that were connected to the transportation system that looked down over the immense city. “It all feels so foreign to me.”

“It is not easy to learn, from what I’ve heard,” Trella said, standing next to Alva. “But it is a great honor to learn the more advanced Cydonian powers. Not everyone gets to learn them.”

“What?” She turned to Trella and wrinkled her nose. “I just assumed that everyone received this kind of training.”

“Oh, no. Only the highest-ranking of Cydonians will ever learn the advanced techniques. The rest of us have the basics but don’t even have the proper augmentations installed. They are available to us, but not through official means and there is a punishment that comes with using a power that is beyond your training. Plus, it is dangerous.”

“So you can’t even do this stuff?” She was genuinely surprised at the revelation.

“No,” Trella paused briefly. “I would not be serving you otherwise. This is what my father saw me doing and he assured me that it was an important task, so I handle it with pride.”

“I thought that Ingen had changed things when the Andlios Republic was founded, though? I know things changed for the Krigans at least.”

“They did, but Cyngen is different.”

“I guess it is,” she said. “It feels older than the Republic, I know there was a lot of effort put into this, but this is an entire planet full of caverns that have been built into.”

“Cyngen was originally the work of the Cydonian outcasts from the last great war between the Krigan and the Cydonians,” Trella hesitated slightly, but turned to Alva and continued. “The Krigans referred to them as ‘the Banished’ and in fact they believed that the Earthers were originally the Banished but they were from a different planet entirely.”

“Does anyone know about this?” Alva looked on, confused. Surely such a secret would find its way out over such a long period of time. “I remember hearing about the Banished.”

“Yes and no.” Trella shrugged, a rare sign of expressiveness that Alva guessed she had picked up from being around her for so many cycles. “The Andlios Republic claims to have power here, but Trallex is the representative for the Andlios Republic here and most of the humans who work and live here are here for a reason, and they do not speak of what goes on here for their own benefit. As for the Banished, they left here long ago, although their influence is still felt to some degree. Cyngen’s history is actually quite complicated.”

“This feels incredibly reckless,” she said. “I mean, what if they find out?”

“I’m not sure it matters, Alva,” Trella continued. “As long as the Andlios Republic feels powerful, we are left to our own designs and can live our lives as we see fit.”

“That is what makes it so much different from Cydonia, huh?”

“Yes. Very much so. Cydonia will always be our home, but Cyngen is unrestricted; the only human hands involved in Cyngen are for logistics, so they hold no real power here.”

“It’s still weird to me that you don’t consider yourselves human anymore.”

“We are Cydonian,” Trella almost sounded boastful. “We are the evolution of humanity. You, my princess, are Cydonian as well now. You’ll learn to accept it before long. Our time will come.”

“That sounds ominous.” Alva immediately felt very uncomfortable around Trella.

“No, not ominous, Alva,” Trella said. “This is your destiny, it is your destiny to unite our people and usher in a new era of understanding.”

“Even if I can’t levitate a chair toward me?”

“That will come with time.”

Alva took a deep breath, allowing the cool air to fill her lungs before she let it out. She looked off to the distance at the strange compound off in the distance. She knew that it belonged to Jol’or, but it always seemed peculiar to her to see a Cydonian with such human tastes.

“I guess the future will look a lot like that,” she nodded her head toward Jol’or’s estate.

“Maybe,” Trella said. “Most likely not.”

“Well anyway.” She did her best to shake the chill that quivered down her spine. “I’m hungry, let’s go eat already.”

007. The Collector

Katrijn

Katrijn was sitting down in what looked to be an old Earth artifact of a chair with a satin cushion and made of darkly stained wood. The chair wasn’t the most comfortable chair she had ever sat in, but the room was full of strange, old-looking things that she found herself focused on studying her surroundings instead of the stiff chair. Jace stood leaning against the wall, his boot pressed up against it and his arms crossed. He was pretending he didn’t care about the wait, but Katrijn was feeling quite anxious.

“Does he always do this?” She looked up at Jace, who had his eyes closed.

“What?”

“Make you wait this long? We’ve been out here like forty-something minutes.” She crossed her own arms and felt awkward about sitting while he was standing, even if there were other chairs around.

“This is typical Jol’or, yeah,” he pursed his lips like he was holding something back. “He’s a busy guy and I don’t hold that against him, but I do hold this awful taste against him, that’s for sure.”

“This stuff all looks really old, is it?”

“Who knows, he always claims that it’s from Earth, probably from the Omega Destiny, but even then, who knows if it’s real.”

“Of course it’s real,” a voice came from outside of the room. The elegant, tall wooden doors blew open and a Cydonian unlike Katrijn had ever seen stepped into view. Their gear was rather utilitarian usually, lacking in any decor and always placing function above appearance. This one was wearing an ornate pair of boots with gold trim, a pair of leather pants with gold and silver stars lining the sides and a gold-laced tunic. His cape was leather with a decorative golden lattice along the edges and his respirator was decorated similarly. This one cared about how he looked.

“A grand entrance, as always, Jol’or,” Jace said.

“A sourpuss as always, Jace Krios,” he wagged his finger at Jace before turning to Kat. “Oh, my, I’ve lost my manners and apparently my heart is aflutter. Who, dare I ask, is this beauty that I’m beholding with my very eye?” He reached his hand out toward her, and she looked over to Jace, confused, only for him to nod back at her.

“Umm,” she laughed at the gesture, reaching her hand out only for him to hold it up to his respirator and make a hissing noise. “I’m Kat.”

“Do excuse the lack of a proper kiss, my dearest Kat,” he sounded forlorn. “These foolish suits we’ve built ourselves into don’t allow for much dexterity in the open air like this.”

“Uh, no, that’s okay.” She stood up, finding Jol’or just slightly taller than her, but he held himself in a proper posture, making him possibly shorter than he looked. “This is quite some place you have here.”

“Isn’t it?” He turned to Jace. “Quite an eye this one has here, not sure what she is doing with space debris like you, but alas.”

“Yeah, she’s something, that’s alright.” Jace didn’t seem amused, but Katrijn was finding the situation to be wildly entertaining.

“That chair you were sitting on?” She turned to look down at it while he pointed. “20th century oak with a delightful cherry stain from Michigan, I do believe.”

“Wow,” she said, nodding her head, having no clue what any of that meant. “Sounds impressive.”

“In a way,” he sounded wistful. “It’s not the greatest piece from Earth, that’s for sure, but there was only so much aboard the Omega Destiny, you know. I am hoping that we get more Earth visitors soon because I’d love to get some trade going.”

“I’m sure you don’t see many Earthers out here, huh?”

“No,” he said. “I wish we would, but there really hasn’t been much interaction since the Fourth Fleet was scared off all those years ago.”

“Interesting.” She noted his use of the word “years” over “cycles,” which was peculiar. “I see you have an interest in Earth.”

“Pfft,” Jace scoffed. “Interest? This one is obsessed with Earth. This whole house is some pseudo-Japanese nonsense.”

“No respect,” Jol’or laughed, turning back to Katrijn and taking her hand. “These Fringers, they just live their lives without much passion. The style is a bit of an amalgamation from Earth, I suppose; I’m quite fond of the Earth culture known as Japanese, actually.”

“Go figure,” Jace was sounding annoyed. “Being concerned with survival under the iron fist of the Freeman Empire will do that to us ‘Fringers’ as you call us. We don’t have much time to bask in ancient Earth history.”

“So sensitive, this one,” Jol’or chortled. “Shall we go have some tea and get down to business so Mr. Krios here doesn’t lose his mind?”

“Huh, I swore it was Chinese. Anyway, sure,” Katrijn said. “You know, I’ve never known any Cydonians to be quite as…animated as you are?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He led them through an ornate hallway with golden-railed staircases that led upstairs. They walked into a small room with wooden bookshelves lining the walls; old Earth, Zarr’nid, Helgean, Krigan and Cydonian books filled them to capacity. “No, often times people mistake Chinese for Japanese. The Chinese culture on Earth grew to prominence in the late twenty-first century but was foiled by their own opulence, I fear. Sometimes I fear that my people have lost their way a bit, much like the ancient Chinese did. This was always about survival, about evolution for mankind, not about creating our own race and for segregation. Somewhere along the way we’ve seemingly lost our humanity, well, that is, except for me.” He motioned to the two comfortable looking chairs that sat on one side of a large wooden desk. “Please, by all means.”

Jace waited for Katrijn to take a seat and sat down in the other chair. It was comfortable, leather covered and very well padded. She sunk right into it and felt immediately like it was cradling her. The whole journey had been incredibly disconcerting to her, but somehow that chair was doing wonders to make it feel a bit more accommodating. A part of her wondered what Jol’or looked like underneath the mask, which was not something she usually found herself doing when she met Cydonians. This one was different, though, that was for sure.

“So I have eight crates of silicon,” Jace broke through the silence while Jol’or was settling into his own chair on the other side of the desk.

“Always right down to business.” Jol’or straightened up and tugged at the bottom of his tunic. “That’s what I enjoy about you the most, Jace. That and making you uncomfortable, which seems alarmingly easy on this run.”

“You and I both know there is always some complications I have to deal with out there, Jol’or.”

“Of course, of course.” He looked over at Katrijn and tapped on his faceplate. “Would you like some tea, water, anything stronger, my dear?”

“Oh, no,” she said, taken off-guard. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“Things are fucked up out there, Jol’or,” Jace continued his line of thought. “These runs aren’t always easy. As long as Cronus Freeman is in charge we don’t know what to expect out there.”

“I agree that Cronus is an obstacle,” he said, his gaze not breaking away from Katrijn. “Nothing like when Emperor Freeman was alive, that is for sure. Now there was a man who understood the people he ruled.”

“Yeah, well,” Jace said. “This is what we’ve got to deal with, so we’ll deal with it, I guess.”

“Perhaps his reign will come to an end sooner than later?” The tone in Jol’or’s voice was peculiar, which piqued Katrijn’s interest.

“What do you mean, his reign ending sooner rather than later?” She tried to keep her tone conversational but it was difficult to hide her curiosity.

“Let’s not get into this and—”

“No, no.” Jol’or shook his head. “The lady is right, it was rude of me to assume that she knew what we both knew.”

“What we know?” Jace said. “You are a laugh riot, Jol’or. I don’t know shit.”

“Well of course.” He waved his hand toward Jace dismissively. “What I know and what Jace has heard and is pretending not to know.”

“Fair enough.”

“You see, we Cydonians have always been rather, well,” he tapped his fingers on the desk before forming a fist. “Different. Secretive, if you will. We’ve chosen our own destiny and never really related much to our relatives on Andlios. In fact, we only call it Andlios out of respect to them right now. We know the planet as Cydonia, much like this planet is Cyngen. You see, my people don’t have much of a flair for the dramatic. We use one name and use classifications of zones to partition off, but those are merely for logistic purposes, or for interacting with people of your own kind.” He motioned toward both her and Jace.

“Yeah, this much I knew about already,” she said cautiously, understanding that more was to come. She felt like she was sitting in the lair of an evil mastermind who was describing his genius plans to destroy the heroes before giving them ample time to get away, although she wasn’t so sure that Jol’or was either evil or a mastermind. Granted, he could be both.

“Anyway, yes.” Jol’or tapped his fingers together in front of his face, his arms resting on his chair and his body positioned toward Katrijn. He hadn’t broken his line of sight on her since they sat down, which was disconcerting. “There is a plan in place—quite complicated actually—that sees some sort of deposed Andliosian princess making a claim to the throne with Cydonian backing. We are hoping for a bloodless coup, but…”

“Princess?” Katrijn looked over at Jace, who kept a stern face, avoiding making eye contact. “Wait, why are you telling me this? What if I tell somebody about this plan, what if…” Katrijn was beginning to panic, wondering if they knew who she was and Jace had delivered her to Cydonians for some sick plan. Jol’or raised his hand up, motioning for her to let him finish.

“Because you are here with Jace,” he pointed toward Jace, sitting uncomfortably in the chair next to her. “His hatred for the Freemans is well known, I doubt he’d be associating with anyone willing to work with them. Of course,” he looked back at her, tapping on his mask. “I could be wrong.”

“Who is this princess, then? I thought Freeman’s daughter was…”

“Dead?” He let out a laugh, something she hadn’t expected from a Cydonian, although he was full of surprises. Her heart was still racing, the word “dead” hanging in the air. “That is what Cronus is reporting, at least.”

“What do you mean by dead?” She felt a cold feeling wash over her at the idea of her being reported as dead. That meant she wasn’t the princess they were talking about. Who else could there be?

“Katrijn Freeman was being hounded by Cronus after she reportedly assassinated her father all those many years ago and apparently Cronus’s forces were able to close in and destroy the ship carrying her just a few days ago. Justice, he’s calling it,” he said. “If anything, this just makes our plan cleaner. There were a lot of supporters of Katrijn Freeman’s claim left on Andlios, which had always bothered Cronus.”

“Then who the hell do you have?” She felt so lost, confused, but oddly free.

“My dear,” he said. “A man in my position needs to have some secrets, does he not?”

Jace

Jace had noted that Kat was quiet for the rest of the meeting, looking confused and utterly lost throughout. That was fine, though, because it let Jace finish up the work he was there to handle. Something felt off, though. She had been charming and personable up until there was talk about Andliosian princesses, which set off an alarm in his head. He ran a quick, discreet search on his holoscanner on princesses from Andlios; Alva Hedlund and Katrijn Freeman were all that came up. Alva Hedlund was long-deceased, so he swiped her file away, but Katrijn Freeman. Something felt off. The photograph on file might have been a bit old, but it struck him like a brick to the head; he was traveling with the daughter of Jonah Freeman. The weight of that conclusion felt crushing to him, like an unexpected high-g burn out of an atmosphere, but he tried not to let it show. Jol’or and he had shaken hands, the credits were transferred into his account and the whole affair passed like an out-of-body experience until Jace found himself on a tram with Kat, who was oddly silent, staring down at her hands.

“I can’t believe I didn’t know,” he finally broke the silence. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“What?” She didn’t look up at him.

“Katrijn,” he said, raising his eyebrows at her while she looked up at him. “How didn’t I notice?”

“Oh,” she looked back down at her hands and slightly nodded. “Yeah, that.”

“I don’t know if I should feel mad or just like a fool.” The anger was beginning to well up in him, but he quickly suppressed it. “I should have known, I mean, you didn’t even try to change your name. Who goes on the lam and uses a shortened version of their name? That’s just insanity.”

“I know,” she said, tears starting to well up in her eyes. “Uncle Peter kept telling me that I was letting my pride get in my way, that I’d be caught. I just didn’t want to give up who I was.”

“How did nobody find out?”

“Oh,” she said, laughing through the tears that were streaming down her cheeks. “They found out. How do you think I ended up in a life pod floating out in the expanse of the fringes alone?”

“Ah,” he said, trying to collect his thoughts. “What now?”

“What do you mean?”

“Where do we go from here?” He felt very unsure of himself, quickly correcting himself. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know,” she said staring out the window. “I just don’t know. I was supposed to make a rendezvous with one of Uncle Peter’s men out here, but that was weeks ago, so I’ve long since missed that window.”

“Okay.” He stood up, leaning up against the window and watching the subterranean city whiz by. “So who is this Uncle Peter and how can we get into contact with him?”

“He was my father’s right-hand man, Peter O’Neil, the captain of the Omega Destiny and—”

“The Old Man?” he said with scorn, an unsettling revelation.

“He hates that name.”

“The Shadow Emperor, then?” The pent up rage inside of him was beginning to surface, his willpower starting to fade. “That’s who your Uncle Peter is? My Gods.”

“Oh please,” she let out what sounded like a legitimate laugh. “That’s all talk, he’s just old and has been around. My father trusted him with his life and I’ve known him for the entirety of mine. My father was a good, idealistic man, but it was Uncle Peter who helped ground him and push him in the right direction when he needed it. When Cronus murdered my father he helped me escape.”

“So you really think he did it, then? That Cronus killed your father?”

“Yes,” she said, wiping away the last few tears with the edge of her shirt. “My father, like I said, was an undying idealist. In a way, he was a fool. My uncle is a fool as well, but a different kind of fool. Together they were almost the perfect fool, which meant that they saw trouble ahead. My father saw the evil inside my brother, he saw what he was capable of.

“In a perfect world…” She was beginning to calm down a bit, her shoulders relaxing. She didn’t make eye contact while she spoke, but he let her continue, intent on listening. “My father wanted a perfect world, which is funny, but in a perfect world he thought he could help Cronus grow to become a better man, a better leader, but he still understood that Cronus was full of rage and anger. He left me a message just in case something happened. From what I understand, the thought that I’d never had to see it and that things could progress the way that he wanted them to, but…”

“There’s always a but, isn’t there?”

“Oh yeah, and this is a big one,” she said. “He knew that the Republic couldn’t continue on without him. He didn’t even want to be emperor, but they weighed the situation and knew that people needed a strong leader. My father had dreamed of humanity living free, picking their own leaders and for the people to have a voice. His last request of me was that I would be left the Andlios Republic as the empress, then I would dissolve my own position and hold open elections.”

“Wow,” he couldn’t help but feel taken aback. “Are you serious? Open elections, like a democracy?”

“Right,” she said, biting her bottom lip. “That’s what he wanted from me, but I couldn’t do it.” She was back to fighting back the tears. “I tried, but I had to run. I had to. Cronus framed me for Dad’s murder and…Oh gods…”

“Hey, hey.” Jace sat down next to her, wanting to console her but feeling awkward about it. He started to put his arm around her back but pulled back before finally resting his hands at his side. He wanted to be angry with her, but he felt more angry with himself for not noticing, plus she was clearly not in a good way, and one more person upset at her wouldn’t make this situation any easier for either of them. “I know that this situation is awful and all, but if you look on the bright side…”

“The bright side?” She looked up at him. “What bright side?”

“They all think you are dead now!”

“How does that help me?”

“I don’t know what you’ve been planning,” he started, patting her gently on the back. “But whatever it was, it will be a whole lot easier now that they think that you are dead.”

“Well thank Freyja for that, right?” she said. “At least they all think I’m dead.”

“Hey, I’m serious.” He stood back up, pacing around the small car. “He probably had death squads out looking for you, but now? He thinks you are dead. This all got a lot easier. We’ve gotta get out of here, first.”

“Okay,” she said. “But what do we do about the rendezvous I missed? I don’t have a direct line to Uncle Peter anymore and I’ve never missed a rendezvous before. We have to try to find his agent so we can get through to him. He’ll know what to do.”

“I’m on board with you getting into contact with the Old Man, for sure. But if you think for one second that Jol’or didn’t recognize who you were in there, you are mistaken. In fact, we need to get off of this rock as fast as we can. That rendezvous has long since passed and if you were to do it now, well, it would probably be a trap.”

“What? Why?”

“Didn’t you hear him back there? They have a princess—one that isn’t you—who they are planning to use to try to take over the goddamned system. Imagine if they had TWO princesses with claims to the throne? My gods.”

“So we are in trouble, then?”

“Fuck. We are in a lot of trouble. He probably scanned you or something, I mean, I looked up your picture. He can do a lot worse with his connections.”

“I thought he wasn’t a part of their government?”

“That’s part of the problem.” He pulled his pistol from the holster and checked the charge on it. The charge read full, which was good, but he sure wished he had something else with him at that moment. “He’s a dangerous man who knows dangerous people. You don’t have a weapon, do you?”

“I have these.” She hefted a knife out of her boot; it was long and slender with an ornate handle, clearly something that had been a gift from someone with money.

“Dammit,” he said. “Talk about bringing a knife to a gunfight.”

“I have two knives and a gun,” she said. “But a gunfight? If things go bad we end this quickly and quietly, we avoid blasting our way out of this, are we clear?”

“Sure, but just in case, we have to be ready for anything.” He couldn’t help but feel the pressure now. Somehow he found himself having to protect a princess from the clutches of evil men; it felt like something out of a bad book he had once read. “But just stay behind me.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“With knives and handguns?” he asked. “I appreciate the vigor and all, but that’s not how this works, Princess.”

“Don’t call me that,” she said. “I’m probably better trained than you are, anyway.”

“I’m not calling you Kat anymore, that’s for sure.” He was looking ahead to their stop; there wasn’t anyone visible, which was a good sign. “We need to find you a new name and some documents. I know a few guys who can help, but it’ll cost us.”

“Fine,” she said. “We can work all of that out later, but for now I get the impression that we need to get the hell out of here.”

“I can agree to that.” He stood near the door to the car as it came to a stop with his pistol at the ready. “Just stay behind me, alright? Fuck, I hate this.”

“Okay, Mr. Hero.” She rolled her eyes, which forced him to swallow his anger. She was a princess, after all; he couldn’t expect her to understand the gravity of this situation. He simply continued toward the hangar, gun at the ready.

Jace stood with his back to the wall right next to the door, Kat standing next to him, her knife gripped with the blade facing down. He did his best to ignore what she was doing, as long as she was out of the way. He pushed the controls to open the door and quickly rounded the corner with his gun pointed straight in front of him. The hallway was clear. He quickly made his way down the hall toward the bay doors to where the Pequod was being kept, took a deep breath and opened the doors only to find himself staring down the barrel of a gun. There was Jol’or standing with a handful of armed and armored men, all pointing rifles at them.

“Mr. Krios,” Jol’or sounded as warm and inviting as ever. “I was quite surprised to find you traveling with a dead woman, and at that, a dead princess. Quite the company you are keeping lately.”

“Go figure,” he grunted, keeping his pistol trained on Jol’or.

“We can’t let you leave with her.” He twirled his finger around in the air. “But I’m sure that you know that already.”

“All that I know is that you are in our way, Jol’or,” he gritted his teeth. This was going to get ugly, he thought to himself.

“Your problem is with me,” Katrijn’s voice rang throughout the bay. “So why aren’t you talking to me?”

008. The Fallen Empress

Kara

Now tell me.” O’Neil was leading Kara through his hallway. “What has he done now?”

“Describing my son’s madness is never easy, Peter.” She trailed closely behind, but still felt jittery after the night she had been having. “But I think he’s finally lost it, just completely lost it.”

“You can speak freely here, Kara.” He led her back into his office, and she carefully scanned the area just in case.

“I know, but can we not be stuffed up in your office like before, though?” She was feeling like the walls of the palace were closing in around her and needed to feel the cool night air.

“Sure.” He motioned for her to follow him out into the garden. “I was out here anyway when you called.”

“At this hour? Oh gods.” She dusted off a bench with her hand absentmindedly before just sitting down anyway, operating on reflex. “So you’ve heard?”

“Heard what?” He sat down next to her. “I really haven’t heard anything, I was just decompressing and checking up on a few of my agents out in the field.”

“He murdered Senator Pelan.” The words escaped her mouth like it was a natural phrase to utter, but her verbalizing it brought back the image into her mind of her son, ax in hand, driving it into the senator’s head in a blind rage. Pelan’s still, lifeless eyes pierced through her while he lay on the marble floor, blood pooled around his body like an amorphous outline. His once-white head of hair had been stained pink and his wrinkled face looked as if it had begun melting in horror.

“Wait, what? In cold blood?”

“Yes,” she said, holding herself together, still in shock. “Pelan was arguing with Cronus late into the night. Cronus was talking about just dissolving the Senate altogether and Pelan was pleading with him. I mean, you know how he is, he hasn’t taken their advice throughout his whole reign. It’s just been you and I trying to keep things together, but, oh gods…”

“So he just…murdered him right then and there? In cold blood? In front of witnesses?”

“Witnesses? Ha!” She let out a laugh; the idea of anyone speaking up against her mad son was truly funny to her. “Who will oppose him? He’s surrounded by yes-men and everyone is so afraid of him. It’s like the news of the death of his sister has removed any sense of logic or any of the restraints that were on him.”

“This is not good.” O’Neil got up and stood out overlooking the garden while Kara sat there, feeling a cool breeze run by. A part of her felt guilty for bringing such a monster into the world, that maybe she had done something wrong along the way, but it was too late to fix it.

“Of course it’s not,” she said. “Peter, we need to stop him. We need to find a way to get him out of power. He’s not well; his father believed that he could still be saved, you know this, but it’s gone far beyond that. We need to do something.”

“I know,” he said, just staring off into the distance. “We really do.”

“He won’t listen to me anymore, I know that much, and I’m not sure he really listens to you, either. In fact…” She picked herself up and walked up next to him, staring out over his little kingdom with him. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he was actively looking for a way to dispose of both of us at this moment. That Giger is in his ear and we are nothing but liabilities at this point since we oppose him at every step.”

“That we do,” he said. “I wish Jonah was still here, he was always good to talk this stuff through with, believe it or not. He wasn’t as out there as everyone believed, but you know that. I mean, hell, you shot him and he still loved you and felt he had to make things right by you.”

“I know, trust me.” She felt the emptiness inside her. “I miss him every day. Even if he was a fool, he was my fool. I wasn’t always great to him, he wasn’t always great to me, but at the end of the day, it’s hard to believe that we both created that monster in there.”

“Well, for every monster you created, you created one good one, at least.”

“What do you mean?”

“Katrijn,” he took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. “That girl was Jonah’s hope for the Republic. Hell, she was my hope for the Republic. I had to let her go, Kara, you know that, right?”

“I know.” She fought back the tears, refusing to look weak in front of Peter. “If only we knew what happened to her. You haven’t heard anything still?”

“No, nothing yet,” he said. “My agent on Cyngen is supposed to make contact in the morning. They were supposed to rendezvous a few days back, but as you know, the whole thing with the exploding ship and all. Cyngen was still the closest planet and there was one life pod that wasn’t accounted for. She’s a smart, resourceful person, Kara. You raised one hell of a girl.”

“I didn’t really raise her,” she said, feeling regret over the things she’d missed from Katrijn’s childhood. “I wish I had, I wish I wasn’t so blind to how much she needed me. I just saw Cronus and wanted to fix him; Katrijn was always a good girl, she just, well, she didn’t need much from me. You and Jonah raised her more than I ever did.”

“The past is the past, Kara.” He placed both hands on the small of his back and stretched. “If she’s still out there, we have to find her, but until then, we have to keep the beast at bay.”

“I’ve been doing that his whole life. Clearly, I’ve failed in that regard. I’m not sure how much longer I can placate him before his rage turns to me.”

“Then we have to pretend.”

“I guess so. It won’t be easy, but until we have a better plan, I’m willing to do what it takes.”

They both sat in silence for a while, Kara’s mind floating back to Cronus’s childhood when he was just a little innocent prince. There was no malice in his heart yet, just a little boy who would grow up to live under a microscope and feel the pressure the whole time. He was such a sweet boy, always by her side and cried for her when she had to leave him with one of his nannies. It was a far cry from the man who had murdered another man in cold blood for simply implying that he was wrong.

Peter was lost in thought when they said their goodbyes; she composed herself and headed out toward her own chambers. She realized she was a panic-stricken mess before, but it was late so there weren’t many around to witness it, just a few guards who she had known for years and trusted with her life. She knew deep down that if Cronus ever turned against her that there would be someone to protect her—at least that was her hope. Even at his maddest he wouldn’t dare hurt her—would he? She wasn’t so sure about Peter, but he knew how to take care of himself.

It felt impossible to shake the image of her son burying an ax into Senator Pelan’s skull, nor would the sight of the guards who stood by and did nothing. The guards were just as sick as he was, a few laughing while Pelan had pleaded for his life, none looking away when the ax was driven into his skull and he let out a whimper. They were his personal guards, which meant they were used to his outbursts, but the cold efficiency in which they dragged the body off while it was still warm chilled her to the bone. She cursed Jonah for leaving Cronus as her responsibility.

Jonah had never had much of a connection with Cronus, which led to the boy growing up full of resentment and anger. He had never felt as wanted as Katrijn was, knowing that his sister was being groomed to rule, leaving Cronus as the clear number two. In a family that was ruling over a Republic, the idea of one child being excluded could—and did—turn out to be a lethal mistake. She felt naked once the secure doors to Peter’s wing of the palace sealed shut behind her, leaving her just wandering the hallway on a rather auspicious night.

“Mother!” Cronus appeared coming from his own wing of the palace, flanked by two of his elite guards wearing their ceremonial Krigan armor, Cronus’s crest emblazoned on their chests.

“I’m here, Cronus,” she offered a faint smile toward her son. “What are you still doing up so late?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said. “I’ve dissolved the Senate.”

“I see,” she said, trying to hide her horror at what that had entailed. “A…wise move, my son.”

“Yes,” he said. “You saw that sniveling coward Pelan pleading with me before. He had proven to me that the Senate was simply dragging my Republic down. It was an attempt to shackle my power, to question my authority.”

“Your father found the Senate useful for a time.” She made sure to tread lightly around the topic. “But I trust your judgement in this matter.”

“Good!” He clenched his fist and his mouth formed a deranged smile. “I’m sure Father needed the help, but my Republic is nothing like his, it is larger, more complicated. It is precisely that reason why there need to be fewer voices in play; I’m sure you understand. To rule such an expansive Republic as the Andlios Republic, there need to be no questions, no doubts. The Senate was a group of old men who second-guessed their own every move. Now is a time for action, to solidify my name in the stars.”

“The people should consider themselves lucky to have my son as their emperor,” she said, forcing out a yawn. “Dear, while I am excited to talk about what comes next, I truly am exhausted. I got up just to go to the kitchen to have some tea, and now I really need to get some rest.”

“Yes, of course,” he waved his hand to dismiss her, Kara quickly nodding and heading toward her own quarters, feeling the panic welling up inside her. How many were dead? She had known those senators for over twenty cycles, many were even personal friends. She knew all their families, their spouses and children. The horror washed over her while she walked into her quarters and locked the door behind her. She knew it was a silly gesture, but it made her feel just a bit safer for the time being.

O’Neil

“Local chatter’s going haywire over here, Old Man.” Loren’s smiling face was projecting out from O’Neil’s holoscanner while he sat at his desk. “There’s something interesting going down with one of the local magistrates. Cat by the name of Jol’or, calls himself the Collector. He’s plugged in but still pretty behind-the-scenes if you know what I mean. He called in a team to accompany him on some mission, tried to encode the call but you know I have my ways.”

“That’s why you work for me, Loren,” O’Neil said, relieved that he had capable field agents. “Although we have to assume that Cronus has someone planetside there capable of doing the same.”

“Already thought about that,” he said. “I’m a local to here, I know people, I know for a fact that none of the other capable locals are working for the Republic. There are a few of his agents here and there, but they aren’t that connected, that’s for sure.”

“Okay, okay,” he said. “I get it, Loren, you are good at what you do and I’m thankful to have you. But what is this chatter you are hearing all about?”

“This Jace Krios guy, he’s a runner and does some odd jobs here and there, usually a loner. He shows up to a meeting with Jol’or with some woman, which is odd for him.”

“A woman?” His interest was piqued. “Is there a description of her at all?”

“Blonde, late 20’s, I mean look,” he said, “it’s pretty close to what you told me about her, but it’s not like there is a lack of leggy blondes out there in the universe.”

“There’s a lack of them being pursued by important Cydonians, I’d say.”

“Well sure, that’s kind of the thing, right?”

“Why haven’t you pulled up security footage of them?” He leaned back in his chair, resting his hands on his stomach. “I’m sure someone with your skills…”

“Stop right there,” he tsked. “I know what you are thinking, you are thinking that ol’ Loren didn’t cover all of his bases, right? But no, I tried, it’s being blacked out. Only a few people would have access to pull something like that. Someone high up, if you know what I mean.”

“So you assume it was this Jol’or person?”

“Oh yeah, definitely.”

“So if he’s blocking security feeds and using his own private security, you think he’s making a play to grab her?”

“If you were to have me make a guess, that is what it would be, yeah. This girl must be something else to go through this much trouble…”

“This is not good.” He found himself hunched over his desk, his mind racing. “I need to know what is happening down there, Loren. I need to find out if it is her and if it is, I need a direct line to her. Things are decaying here quicker than expected; Cronus has lost his goddamn mind, or whatever there was left of it.”

“I’ll do my best, but I can’t exactly go down there and start shooting at Jol’or’s security forces.”

“I trust you’ll find a way,” he said. “Also, send me any information you have about Krios, I need to know what we are dealing with here if he has Katrijn.”

“Alright, sending you what I’ve got on him now. I guess I’ll suit up and head down there, see what I can find out.” O’Neil saw him pick up a handgun. “Wait, did you say Katrijn?”

“Gods dammit,” O’Neil muttered under his breath. He was trying to keep her identity a secret, but with Loren it wouldn’t have mattered for long anyway. “Yes, look, I was trying to keep this under wraps here.”

“So I’m looking for a princess then?” Loren let out a whistle. “So this op just got pretty serious; I thought this was just some spurned lover shit here. This makes it all different.”

“Just…don’t start shooting unless you need to, either, Loren. Be careful.”

“I’ll do my best, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Loren out.”

The display faded from view, disappearing back into the tiny box on his desk like a vacuum had sucked it up. How had things gotten so out of control in such a hurry? he wondered. Maybe he was slipping. The thought alone gave him a migraine.

009. The Gods Among Us

Trella

Trella walked slowly to her quarters with her head swimming from the night she had just had with Alva. Her whole life, there had been barriers up, and those barriers were a part of Cydonian culture. She was born on Cyngen and it was all she knew, but she was told constantly how Andlios—Cydonia in particular—was their true home and that her calling was to help to return her people to their home. Her work with Alva was supposed to be just that: work. Instead, she found herself feeling attached to Alva and wanting to not only see her succeed but also to be with her when she did succeed.

Serving Alva was a part of her programming and was her job, but somewhere along the way, things became personal. When connected to the CyNet, Trella did her best to suppress her emotions and not broadcast them, but the more Alva progressed in her training, the emptier Trella felt knowing that Alva would be leaving shortly. Before long she would be sent to Andlios for the sole purpose of disposing of the emperor on her own. It made her stomach turn to know that Alva’s destiny lay elsewhere and without Trella by her side. Those feelings were compounded by the pressure among Cydonians to suppress emotions and to move beyond the constraints of them. She felt like a failure on just about every front.

True privacy was uncommon for Cydonians, but she found herself switching off her networking while she quietly entered her quarters and sat back into a chair. She was growing feelings that she had been conditioned to be able to push out and to pretend that they simply hadn’t existed. Instead, Trella found these thoughts welcoming and warm, refusing to turn from them, but instead embrace them. Those feelings had to be hidden—at least from anyone who could sense them—meaning that while sifting through these she had to disconnect from the CyNet. The CyNet connected the Cydonians together, networking them across the entire Republic and remaining off limits to anyone outside of Cydonian culture. That meant that while she was connected, anyone could detect these feelings and at the moment she needed to work through these emotions, which meant disconnecting. She had been serving Alva since she awoke and since then had bonded to her in ways she could have never predicted.

A few months prior, they had gently suggested a new assignment for Trella, for her to move on to another project, only for Trella to decline and claim that she felt her work with Alva was not complete yet. There was some pushback, but the idea of emotional bonding never came into the equation, only an understanding of wanting to be thorough, so she stayed on. When Trallex decided that Alva’s training was complete, it would be time for Alva to return to Andlios. Once on Andlios, the plan would be in motion and she would look to find a way to gain power and hopefully change the balance of power in the Republic. Those plans didn’t include Trella.

She was taken off guard by the sound of the door whizzing open behind her. Due to the Cydonians always being connected, they felt very little need to communicate in person, making doorbells low on the priority list for a dwelling. She wasn’t connected and thus had no clue that anyone was coming, making Trallex standing in her room that much more disconcerting. Things were about to get complicated, she realized.

“Greetings, Trallex,” she said to him, motioning for him to enter.

“Your network has been shut off.” He strode in, hands clenched behind his back. “There is not an error, is there? If so, you should be hooked into a diagnostic immediately to correct it.”

“No,” she said, feeling a strange well of anxiety from inside of her. “I simply needed some time to myself is all.”

“I see.” He walked in, staring at the wall where two photographs of Trella and Alva were framed side-by-side. “I fear that you are getting too close to Princess Alva, Trella.”

“I understand,” she said. “I believe that I am just being thorough.”

“While that is understandable, my belief is that this is simply not the case.”

“I don’t…”

“We are still human.” He held his hand up, stopping her cold. “As much as we would like to believe that we have evolved into something new, we are but the first step in an evolutionary process. We are more capable than our limited counterparts and to a degree, they fear us, but we are still like them, only augmented with technology. This means that those weaknesses that we act like we’ve left behind are still very real.”

“Yes,” she said, intent on listening and hoping he wouldn’t remove her from working with Alva completely.

“In my over 1,000 cycles I have seen many things, chief among them has been the sterility that washed over our people after cycles of opting to clone instead of traditionally reproducing. This has allowed us to create a race of people tailored to perfection, augmented with the greatest in technology and given every chance to not only succeed but also to help push humanity into the future. Right now we face a struggle.” He paused briefly, looking down at the ground. “That struggle presents itself by the way of the Andlios Republic.

“The Andlios Republic through Jonah Freeman allowed for us to be free, to operate within the system and to avoid many of the problems we face today under the reign of his son. Sadly, we are no longer able to work with the Freemans or the Andlios Republic. We have lost our home and been forced to take Cyngen—which was just a Cydonian settlement—and treat it like our new home. You need to understand how vital Princess Alva is to us, Trella. Do you understand?”

“Yes, of course.”

“You have been tending to her since the beginning, but many have feared that you have grown too close to her, that you have lost your objectivity and lost sight of the objective at hand.”

“I…” She paused, unsure of how to react. The fear crept up inside her, the idea of never seeing Alva again and being purged from her life. “I do not believe that to be the case, Trallex. I have merely done my duty and—”

“Exhibited erratic behavior,” he said. “You spend time with her beyond your duty, you disconnect yourself from the CyNet during some of these times, and sometimes when you return home. You have clearly bonded with her.” He motioned toward the photos on the wall. “Much beyond what would be healthy for someone in your position to do.”

“What does this mean?” She cut straight to the chase, wanting to know how this would impact her.

“I am pulling you from the project,” he said, matter-of-factly, as if it were cut and dry.

“I understand.” She kept an even tone, although she felt like her insides were being torn to shreds. Tears began to well up in her eyes, her automated system quickly responding by drying them out before they could drip down her cheek. “I’ve only done what I thought was right, Trallex. She is lonely and scared, I only did what I thought was best.”

“I am not saying that this is the end of your involvement with Princess Alva,” he added while turning toward the door. “But we need to do further investigation into this. Maybe if we’ve deemed it safe for you to continue, we will in the future.”

“Thank you,” she said, wanting to just collapse on the spot.

Alva

“Good,” Trallex nodded toward an exhausted Alva, who sat slumped over and breathing heavily in the chair she had just struggled to move moments before.

“See, now that’s what I’m capable of,” she said, wiping her eyes of the stinging sweat that was dripping into them. “I told you I’d get it quickly.”

“Yes.” He stared at her, his voice droning. “Well ahead of schedule. Tomorrow we can work on honing some of your other skills, but I believe you’ve gotten as good as you will get for now with moving objects.”

“I can’t wait to tell Trella about this.” She stood up, straightening out her spine and feeling a few pops. She strode past Trallex and pulled a towel from the wall, wiping off her face. “She told me that not everyone even had a chance to do this, is that right?”

“Yes,” he said, his hands gripping onto his belt. “These abilities are special, not all Cydonians are given the opportunity to train in them, although all could be capable of mastering them much as you have. Consider it a privilege to have access to these facilities and to learn these skills, Princess Alva.”

“I am very thankful.” She felt his demeanor was somehow colder than usual, although she could have just been imagining it. “Although I’m still a bit leery about what your plans for me are. I feel like I’ve done enough to earn that sort of trust, haven’t I?”

“I suppose so,” he said. “You see, your father made an impassioned plea to me. That plea was that you were his little girl and he had done so much for his people and sacrificed so much—even going as far as to hand his planet over to Ingen—but that he could not bear to lose his daughter. His people are…” He paused, his tone changing to slightly disdainful. “…Ignorant to our ways, if not prejudiced. But he was willing to look the other way for a chance for you to live a life without war.”

“So this was father’s idea?” She motioned toward her implants, doing her best to keep her mind clear, but she was starting to feel light-headed, which she was sure Trallex had noticed.

“Yes.” He strode toward her and presented her with a bottle of water, which she smiled and took from him before he stepped back. “It was not easy for him, but he made me promise him that I would keep you safe and free from scorn. So it was decided that I would take you to Cyngen and oversee things personally. Although, things may have changed since then…”

“What do you mean?”

“Cronus Freeman aims to destroy everything your father fought and bled for.” Trallex looked up at the ceiling, away from her while she drank. “Not many men had the courage your father had, Princess Alva. I am not sure I’ve ever been fond of a Krigan before, but your father went outside his comfort zone to make peace with the Cydonian people and did what he thought was best for everyone. We all did. We gave our trust to helping to build an image in Jonah Freeman.”

The sound of his full name made a chill run down her spine. “Ingen was a good man, Trallex. He was good to me.”

“He was a flawed man,” he pressed. “One of virtue, indeed, but he was full of passion and many were willing to follow him. Captain O’Neil, your father, Dyvel and myself worked behind-the-scenes to help mold and create the image of Emperor Freeman. Freeman understood his fallibility and never made a move without our advice, but slowly things fell apart. Your father’s illness weighed heavily on him.”

“Oh.” She felt an emptiness wash over her. No one ever felt the need to talk much about Tyr to her. She knew he took to drinking heavily until his liver failed and that he had refused Cydonian implants, but no one ever spoke beyond that.

“I know that you feel guilt for your father’s death,” he rasped. “But there was a choice. He felt he had abandoned you by letting everyone believe you were dead, but he truly believed you would live a better life for it.”

“I know,” she said, tears filling her eyes. “He was always such a fool. What did it matter? I could have been with him, I could have…”

“Anyway,” he cut through—Cydonians had never been known for being able to handle emotional situations with much care. “We foresaw many problems with Cronus Freeman, but Jonah refused to take action. Much like your father felt about you, Freeman felt toward his children. I hold no grudge for him loving his children, but the succession plan should have been publicly set in stone, Katrijn should have been next in line, although we were sure Cronus would attempt to murder his sister. We recommended severe action to prevent Cronus from gaining more power, but Jonah felt that he could be saved, that Cronus could still become a better person. Now we are living in the wake of his idealism.”

“Okay,” she said, trying to forget just how alone she was without her father or Ingen. “So how do I fit into all of this?”

“We need to retake the throne, Princess Alva.” His words were deliberate, rehearsed even. “We need you to return to Andlios and take the throne. By any means necessary.”

Almost in an instant, all of her training made perfect sense to her and she felt sick to her stomach, but she smiled, nodded and looked back at him. “How?”

“Gain favor.” His words were once again very carefully chosen. “The people remember Tyr, they celebrate him and worship him. You were a martyr to their people. You return to Andlios—of course without revealing too much about how much we’ve modified you—then you take the throne from Cronus.”

“That won’t be easy, will it?” Her mind was turning over and over again, trying to process all of it.

“No,” he shook his head. “You will need to eliminate him.”

“Okay,” she said. Just like she feared—they expected her to kill Ingen’s son for their plan. She let out a sigh.

010. The Blade Dancer

Katrijn

Oh no,” Jol’or assured Katrijn in a patronizing tone. “We have no problem with you, Princess Katrijn. In fact, we are here for your own protection from this…space debris.” The last word was hissed out with clear disgust.

“Oh fuck off.” Jace’s grip tightened on the gun. “You just want to use her for your own bullshit.”

“Jace.” She turned to him, hoping that he was a steady hand with a gun or else things would get a lot worse before they got better. She had to make sure he didn’t do anything rash. While she wanted to trust him with the weapon, she was certain that any training he had was inadequate compared to her own. “Stay calm.”

“Yes, Jaaaaaaace,” Jol’or said. “We don’t want any blood to be spilled here, now do we? I mean, it would be your blood, considering you are far outnumbered.”

“I see four guards behind you.” Jace’s eyes scanned the hangar. “Four, yeah. I could have them cleaning the inside of that helmet of yours before they could react in time, and then what happens to the eccentric magistrate when his brains are decorations on that wall over here?”

“Oh my,” Jol’or said. “Truly a visceral scene, wouldn’t that be?”

The posturing between the two came across as fairly ludicrous to her. Make no mistake, the issue here was that Katrijn was there and valuable to Jol’or, but it was unclear what Jace was doing outside of trying to be a hero. She quickly surveyed her options and the decision was simple—to stick by Jace. He was a goofball but he clearly didn’t have any intention of using her for his own gains. Plus, she knew she could take him in a fight if she needed to.

“It doesn’t need to be, Jol’or.” Jace was sweating. “I liked our business relationship the way it was, didn’t you? Now I’ll have to go to your competition, hell, might even put you out of business.”

“Oh, of course.” His laughter rang throughout the hangar. “I’m afraid of our business arrangement falling apart. Our relationship was always such a fond one, wasn’t it?”

At this rate she wondered if they’d simply talk themselves to death. Jol’or had still not ordered his goons to attack and Jace had probably never shot anyone in his life, both showing hesitation, maybe even remorse over this encounter. While she saw that Jace’s bark was fine, she had doubted if there was any bite to him at all. No doubt he had spent time practicing at a range or in his cargo bay, but shooting a live person was a lot different than shooting at crates. Katrijn flashed back to the first time she had to pull the trigger at another person and cringed, slowly walking around to Jace’s side, her hand on the hilt of her blade, ensuring that her movements were obscured.

Her heartbeat was starting to pick up and the situation was sharply coming into focus, the details converging into a whole. The distance between her and the nearest guard was small enough to allow her to attack him before anyone could react and from there, she had a clear path to the rest of them. She couldn’t reach her gun, but the guard closest to her only had a loose grip on his gun and his stance told her he was nervous. He was so focused on Jace that he didn’t notice her shuffling toward him. They wore full armor but weren’t Cydonian, meaning they didn’t have any enhancements to worry about. Cydonians generally didn’t want to give anyone else any sort of advantage unless they had to, even most of their own people didn’t have all of the available augmentations.

Katrijn took one final breath before her body sprung into action, a well-oiled machine acting on muscle memory from years of training, swiftly spinning out from behind the guard closest to her, holding the blade of her knife across his throat from behind and using his body as a shield. Her mind slowed, everything moving in slow motion like the tactical view on a display. The guard struggled, her grip on his neck and around his chest firm while the three other guards turned toward her, guns pointed at her.

“What the…” she heard Jace mumble.

A shot rang out, the heat of the shot nearly burning her face as it narrowly burned by. So much for negotiations. One of the guards was rushing at her, her eyes briefly closing while the blade of her knife slid effortlessly over the throat of the guard in her hands, cutting through the thin layer of his jumpsuit like a warm knife through butter. His body violently twitched in her arms, forcing her to drop him to the ground in a bloody heap. She took the gun from his hand and pushed him into the oncoming guard, knocking him slightly back. Katrijn spun toward the guard, burying the knife into the shoulder joint. That was a weak point in their armor, where the chest plate connected to the shoulder pad, and her blade struck in between the plates and didn’t stop until it hit bone.

The man screamed out, dropping his gun while Katrijn pulled the knife out, spun back the other way and felt her knife glide over his throat while the other two were taking up defensive positions. Jol’or was standing there in disbelief while Jace ducked behind the eave of the door. She squeezed the trigger twice in quick succession, the first missing, the second one catching a guard on the shoulder, his body slamming back against the wall. The last was on a collision course for her when she saw him freeze and drop, smoke emanating from his back.

Jace was standing in the doorway, a look on his face like he had gone into shock. “Get back into cover, you idiot!” she shouted, and he scurried back behind the door only to realize that Jol’or was the last one left standing. Katrijn slowly walked toward him, knife in her left hand and gun in the right. “Now I’m going to get aboard that ship with Jace here and we are going to take off. No problems, no knife shredding up the eccentric, you got it?”

“Oh, this truly is quite the…”

“Fuck off, Jol’or.” Jace was standing in the doorway, menacingly pointing the smoking gun at Jol’or’s face.

“You’ve done quite a number on these guards here, I’m sure we can chalk this all up to a misunderstanding.” His hands were in the air, signifying his surrender. “We can go back to my compound and talk about where we all go from here, because this scene is not going to clean itself up and…”

“God damnit, Jol’or!” Jace shouted, firing off a shot at his feet, causing the Cydonian to jump in fear. “Shut up!”

“Okay, okay,” Katrijn could see the tension in Jace’s face. “Let’s just get out of here.”

“Not the best idea I’ve ever heard.” Jol’or shook his head, outstretching his hand slowly toward them only to quickly jerk it back and cry out in pain. Jace was shaking his head, gun smoking yet again.

“I told you to shut up.” He moved in closer, gun still trained on the Cydonian, who had crumbled to his knees, grasping his hand in pain.

“Was that really necessary?” She rolled her eyes at the macho display.

“He’s a Cydonian—a high-ranker at that—he was gonna try one of his tricks out,” Jace shrugged. “Plus, I wanted to shoot him.”

“Whatever.” She shook it off, making a mental note that he was able to act quickly when he had to. “What do we need to get out of here?”

“Just need to make sure that the docking clamps aren’t locked down.” He cocked his head toward the control panel in the corner and drove his elbow into the neck of Jol’or, his body crumpling to the ground in an ornate heap. “If you can take care of that, I’ll get her up and running. We can be out of here in no time as long as nobody else crashes this party.”

“Alright, good.” She ran over to the panel, her fingers gliding over the controls, pulling up the lock commands.

“Where’d you learn how to…”

“Go!” she shouted, the respect starting to wear thin.

Jace

The pressure was mounting and they had to get out of there fast, Jace realized, his fingers fumbling over the Pequod’s ignition sequence. They would have to get out of there in a hurry, which could possibly be a problem. The Pequod had the ability to cold burn, but the automated defenses on Cyngen were that of legend, which could cause a problem. He cringed when he thought back to the maintenance schedule and the stuff he had neglected. If there was ever a time for the Pequod to be in tip-top shape, it was now. The very thought of the ship stalling out while trying to escape made him cringe. That was the worst case scenario, he reminded himself, brushing the hair out of his eyes while he worked.

“Why aren’t we gone yet?” Katrijn ran up to the cockpit, strapping herself into the co-pilot's chair and locking it down into position, preparing for a heavy-g burn.

“It doesn’t work like in the vids,” he said, cycling through the systems that he needed at full power. “Just a few more seconds…”

“We need to go!” she shouted. “We—you—just shot Jol’or and I get the impression he’s not too happy about that.”

“Strap in,” Jace yelled, his voice carrying over the alarms blaring in the cockpit and punched the ship forward; it lurched through the hangar toward the doors.

“Why aren’t those doors open?” She turned to Jace, who could feel her eyes burning into him. “Why aren’t they open?”

“I don’t know.” He was panicking himself, sending through the command to override the doors. “It’s not opening!”

“We are about to hit it, do you have any firepower aboard this hunk of…”

“Not really!” he shouted, the doors rapidly approaching. Jace had been on Cyngen so many times and had a cache of override codes just in case he found himself in a situation like this, but they were a few cycles old by now. He continued to punch in number sequences, his fingers dancing over the numbers like their lives depended on it. One after the other, each sequence led to nothing but silence. “Shit shit shit!” he said, punching in one last number; with the door just meters away, a groan came from the doors and they miraculously parted with just centimeters to spare before the nose of the ship was about to make contact.

“Oh my gods,” Katrijn let out a deep breath and relaxed back into the chair next to him. “Is it always like this with you?”

“You mean magical?” He couldn’t help but feel the wave of relief and was grinning wide. “I guess so. Now we just gotta get out of orbit and hope to hell that he didn’t send any ships after us.”

They both sat silent while Jace maneuvered out of the underground caverns and they emerged toward the surface, the light from the sun almost blinding him. “Easy enough.” Jace let himself take a breath, keeping his eyes on all his displays. A klaxon blared loudly throughout the cockpit. “Now we just have to hope that…fuck!”

“What?” Katrijn looked over at him, helpless, being pressed into the chair by the increasing gravity.

“Automated defense cannons,” he said, seeing them move, pointing toward the ship. “Gods damnit!” He tried to send through overrides without much hope of finding the right one in time. Their luck might have run out. “Things are going to get a little bumpy!”

“Ugh,” she said, but he didn’t have time to placate her.

The cannons were within range and the automated klaxons on the Pequod were blazing warnings of imminent destruction. Jace was doing everything in his power to try to disable the defenses, but it was clear that it was a fruitless endeavor. Now was the time for drastic action—those cannons were going to fire no matter what and they had to not be in the line of fire. The ADCs were attracted to heat signatures, usually, as long as no one was manning the guns.

“Can you push a button when I tell you?” Jace turned to Katrijn. “I have to know right now! Right now.” He unbuckled his straps and started pulling himself out of the chair, feeling gravity tugging him violently back toward the chair. “We’ve got forty seconds before those things fire.”

“Okay,” she said.

“When I tell you.” He pointed down at a large red switch while struggling to stay on his feet. “You kill the engines. Just flip this. It’s the dead switch, everything goes off at that precise moment, then, when I tell you, you’ve gotta flip it back, alright?”

“I guess, but won’t we fall into—”

“We’ll have some momentum, it should be fine,” he swallowed hard, stumbling to the doorway, almost tripping over his unsecured books all over the floor. “I hope.”

He sprinted down the hallway, the floor shifting under his feet and trying to throw him into the walls. The ship was ultimately pulling him down toward the cargo bay while it climbed through Cyngen’s skies, which is where he wanted to go, but it felt like the ship was trying to pull him into its maw like he was being swallowed by a whale. He stopped fighting, allowing gravity to guide him to the cargo hold. Every time the ship buckled, it hurt, sending him flying into the cold steel walls, the bumps, and bruises accumulating on his skin. Things would be a lot worse if he didn’t get to this in time.

Jace finally fell into the cargo hold, clawing his way to Katrijn’s lifepod. The pod was a lot bigger than the usual one and had its own HyperMass reactor aboard it, meaning that it would give off the heat signature of a small ship. He slapped his hand onto the cargo bay door release, setting off the the alarms while the suction of air coming from the door opening started to tug at his clothing. The cargo bay was empty after offloading Jol’or’s shipment, leaving just a few of his personal crates and her lifepod.

The pod was roomy on the inside, but he didn’t want to get caught inside it. There would be time to rest if this plan worked and he could somehow force the pod to activate and jettison it from the bay at just the right moment. Jace powered up the pod, getting its reactor up quickly and tapped the holoscanner on his hip. “Punch it, now!”

“Got it,” she squawked over the line, and he felt the sudden drop in gravity while he braced against the doorway of the pod. Jace pulled up the controls and set for the engines to burn it right out of the hold in five seconds. He took a deep breath and dove out of the pod, fighting through the shifting gravity while the ship was quickly losing altitude. With a flip of a switch the magnets in his boots activated, his feet clamping onto the floor while the rest of his body was heading toward the bay door. There was a crate secured to the floor in front of him and he had to get around it, only moments away from those engines burning in the cargo bay. Jace deactivated the magnets and leapt for the crate, quickly activating them again and his feet clomping down once again, his back slamming hard against the crate. A sudden burst of heat filled the bay and the sound of metal scraping on metal was deafening before he felt a suck of air and the pod was clear.

“We’ve got a problem!”

“Hold on!”

“We have 30 seconds until impact! We’re gonna crash!”

“Just hold on!” he shouted back, knowing that it was going to be close. He peered around the crate out of the hold, feeling the heat and the pull of the air, glad that he remembered to wear his boots with the magnet attachments. The pod raced off toward the surface only to explode into a ball of vapor and fire. “Punch it now!” he shouted. “And for fuck’s sake remember to take the stick and pull up!”

“Okay!” she shouted back, and he heard his ship’s engines sputter back to life. They were already warmed up and hopefully the cooldown for the ADCs were long enough for them to break into orbit without being shot up. The ship quickly lurched and he felt the gravity pulling him back toward the crate. The new problem confronting him was that he had to get those doors shut or he’d burn up before they ever got off the planet.

“Just keep pulling up,” he shouted, unable to hear his own voice. “The course is already set in so the ship should handle the tough stuff!” He awkwardly stomped his way toward the control panel for the door, the unbearable waves of heat from the engines and the atmosphere assaulting him from all angles. “Just get us the fuck out of here!”

His hand reached out and grasped onto the base of the panel. He pulled himself up until his hand was within distance of the panel when a violent shake came over the ship and he was thrown off. “Fucking hell!” he shouted, pulling himself back to the panel and finally slapping his palm down on the controls, the doors slowly whirring shut. “Oh my gods,” he leaned back, catching his breath, still feeling the gravity threatening to crush him.

“Are you okay down there?” her voice cut through.

“I’m fine.” He was panting, trying to crawl back to the crate. There wasn’t a crash chair or couch down in the cargo bay, so he’d have to hold up against the crate while they burned out of the planet. “Just keep going before those guns come back on line, alright? Don’t stop.”

“Aren’t you coming up here? I can’t drive this thing on my own!”

“You’ll be fine,” he reassured her, not entirely believing that himself. “Just make sure you don’t drive it back toward the planet or into another ship or something. The pull is too much, I’ll be smashed into a wall if I come back up, I’ll have to weather the storm down here.”

The line stayed silent, which was for the best while he pressed his back up against the crate, feeling the acceleration pressing him hard into the crate like he was going to break through it. He’d always had a chair or a crash couch behind him while handling this amount of g-force, and the wooden crate felt like he was being mashed up against an ancient torture device. He gritted his teeth, reminding himself that the burn wouldn’t last much longer, or if they were too slow to breach the atmosphere, they’d be blown to pieces by the ADCs.

Just when it felt like he couldn’t take anymore, the pressure stopped and Jace found himself able to breathe again, the air filling his lungs back up. The sudden lack of pressure only accentuated how bad he was hurting, his back and ribs feeling like they had just been crushed. They most likely were. “We good or is this the afterlife?”

“We’re out,” she confirmed. “You coming up here or what?”

Jace took a deep breath, feeling a few pangs of pain in his side but it didn’t feel like anything was broken. “Yeah.” He was trying to catch his breath. “I’m just gonna stop in the med bay first and, uh…” He pulled himself over to the control panel in the cargo bay, cycling through controls before he found the one for the gravity generator, switching it off and feeling the sensation of weightlessness overcome him. “I’m turning the gravity off for a bit, that was a rough one. Just make sure nobody takes us by surprise for the next few minutes, alright?”

“Where are we going, anyway?”

“The ship is programmed to head to Helgun.” He turned off the gravity controls in his boots and felt himself starting to drift up, the pain subsiding a bit. “It’ll take about five days to get there once we jump, but I gotta patch myself up first.”

“Alright,” she said. “I’ll just keep watching this nothing.”

“Good.” He felt the relief wash over him. “Nothing is very, very good.”

011. The Chase

O'Neil

Report,” O’Neil felt the familiarity of his tone take him by surprise. Those years aboard the Omega Destiny as the captain only seemed like a distant hazy memory to him. Instead, his life on Andlios was all-consuming. Loren’s image appeared before him from the cockpit of a ship, his face illuminated by the displays.

“Things got pretty crazy down there, Old Man.” Loren was wearing a sly smile. “I had to do a bit of cleanup to make sure your girl didn’t find too much trouble, but damn did she leave a mess.”

“What do you mean?” O’Neil leaned back in his chair, feeling his stomach turning in knots. It was good to know she was alive, but they needed her back on Andlios sooner rather than later.

“Her and her new boyfriend shot up some of the local guards. Well, I say shot up, but really,” O’Neil saw him cringe. “I could almost say carved up—two of them had some pretty gnarly gash wounds and had bled out. That guy she is mixed up with is a real butcher, you know…”

“No,” he said. “That was Katrijn.”

“Wow,” he let out a whistle. “This girl is something else then, let me tell you. Precise, major arteries, pretty brutal stuff. This is why I never let my girls near any damned blades, they’d probably cut me up at their mother’s request.”

“Well, she was trained by the best around.” He remembered back to her choosing to train in knife fighting over training with the pulseaxe, which her father had insisted upon. He let her play with knives, but no one ever thought it would be useful in a world of heavy axes and energy guns. They were all wrong, it seemed. “Where is she now?”

“They escaped on his ship and were able to avoid the automated defense cannons, which is really quite impressive.” Loren fiddled with the controls before looking back up toward O’Neil. “They jettisoned her life pod and killed their own engines to distract the ADCs, then while the cannons were cooling down they kicked the engines back on and broke into orbit. Really risky move—they almost smashed into the planet—but I gotta say, it worked.”

“Jesus.” O’Neil lifted up his glasses with his fingers and rubbed his temples before letting them slide back down onto his nose. “Do you have any idea where they are headed?”

“Looks like the nearest rock, Helgun.”

“Helgun?” Frustration washed over him. “Why Helgun?”

“My guess is because it’s close. It also has a pretty low population of Cydonians and is relatively out of our reach.”

“But not entirely out of our reach, correct?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m looking at the report now and we’ve got a few operatives on the planet. If you want I can call ahead and…”

“No. Loren, this is all on you right now. I don’t want to bring anyone else into this unless we really have to.”

“Alright, so what do I do when I find them, Old Man?”

“I guess that’s up to you, but tell Katrijn that we need her back home, that things have gotten out of hand.”

“I get that,” he said, shaking his head. “But I mean, why should they trust me?”

“Well, you have a direct line to me, which is something most don’t. When you find her just call me and we’ll sort it out, alright?”

“Roger that.” Loren’s image faded from view, and O’Neil took a deep breath. Things could never be easy, but they had to just be a little bit more patient. Having Katrijn back would cause some real problems, but it would be the quickest and easiest way to deal with Cronus.

He picked himself up out of the chair and straightened out his shirt, tugging on it and dusting it off, even if it wasn’t dirty. His old habits died hard, but he clung to them for dear life while a good portion of his body felt so cold and foreign to him. He knew they would be expecting him in the Great Hall for the meeting Cronus had called. This would be the first meeting since Cronus’s brutal dissolution of the Senate, which meant that it could get ugly in a hurry.

His walk through the halls were quiet and eerie, with the guards standing still and silent, a departure from their usual chatter. If the palace had a mood associated with it the only word that came to mind was “somber.” The feeling in the air was like an empire on the brink of crumbling to pieces, giving way to chaos and disorder. O’Neil’s job was ensuring that didn’t happen, but it became more and more difficult with every move Cronus made on his own. Without a doubt, there were forces pulling him in different directions, certain people of influence in his ear, but so many treated Cronus like a god that it was difficult to discern who had what kind of power over him. Hopefully that would be sorted out at this meeting.

The guards stood at attention in front of the Great Hall, unflinching when he approached, grabbing the handles to the towering doors and opening them with a creak. The mood was tense inside, Cronus sitting at the head of the table with a plate for fruit laid out in front him, tossing a grape from palm to palm while everyone at the table sat quiet, waiting for him to break the silence.

“Nice of you to finally join us, Old Man.” The words cut right through him, but he simply nodded and walked to his seat next to Cronus, across the table from Kara, who sat silently. “Oh, no,” Cronus said. “That seat isn’t for you, Old Man, you’ll have to find somewhere else to sit.”

“That’s no problem.” O’Neil bit his tongue, understanding the tightrope he was walking on. He walked over to the wall with his head high and sat down on one of the chairs that were lining the wall. Placing O’Neil outside of his inner circle was a symbolic gesture, intended to either humble or humiliate him. Which one wasn’t clear yet, but O’Neil had no problem with his seat moving in light of what he had done to Senator Pelan. He was losing his grasp, which he had to ensure didn’t happen, at least until he could sneak Katrijn back onto the planet and come up with a plan.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” a voice boomed from the doorway, and O’Neil turned to see Alistair Giger enter the hall. He wore clothes spun of silk and lined with gold and gems, his dark hair neatly pulled back into a small braid. Giger was the son of one of the elite from the Omega Destiny, who had even more power on Andlios than aboard the ship.

“Alistair.” A smile crossed Cronus’s face. “Please come, sit,” he motioned for the chair that was previously O’Neil’s. The statement was made, loud and clear. Giger took his place next to the emperor and looked pleased with himself. O’Neil knew it was just a parade of fools making promises to Cronus that they could never keep. They were the parasites that made up what was left of the Andlios Republic and it made O’Neil sick to see what it had become.

“Your Majesty,” O’Neil’s voice broke through the smug silence like a knife. “I’d like to know what you plan to do now that—”

“Did I tell you to speak?” Cronus snarled, slamming his fist onto the table, the fruit dancing in the tray before him. “No, I did not. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks, can you?” He turned to the table, where there were a few uneasy laughs. “Anyway, as you all may have heard, late last night the decision was made to dissolve the Senate. I’ve found that their guidance may have been useful to my father,” the disdain for the word stung, “but I am not my father.

“That was the old Andlios Republic, it was the weak Andlios Republic. We all know that my father was a man of ideals and beliefs, but many—in private—considered him to be a fool. The Republic is vast now, no longer just a planet or two, but a collection of planets that stretches out deep into our galaxy. The Republic governs a collection of twenty-one inhabited planets and moons, including Andlios. Each planet having a seat in the Senate and bickering for their own personal gains led to many wastes of all our time.

“My plan,” he continued, growing more and more excited. “Is instead to assign my personal stewards to each inhabited land. I will be hand-picking these representatives, who will have absolute power over their domain, only answering to myself, the emperor of Andlios.”

A round of applause washed through the room, as O’Neil felt the color escaping his face but did his best to clap along from his chair at the side of the room. This was a lot worse than he had ever imagined it could be. He scanned the table to look at the reactions, most looking genuine, as most would be angling for positions of power and a stewardship. Kara’s face wore the same expression that his did at that moment: scared, but trying to pretend. She was failing and he suspected that he was as well.

Kara

“What do we do?” Kara stood in her quarters with a link to O’Neil up. He sat in his office looking haggard. She understood how he must feel after all they’d been through. They were finally on the same side and the feeling hanging in the air was that Cronus was going to send one—or both—of them away to steward some far off fringe planet.

“I’m not really sure,” he said.

“I knew Giger had influence over him, but not this kind of influence.” She found herself pacing back and forth, her dark red dress ebbing and flowing with her movements, dancing on its own while she felt her chest tighten with anxiety. “You know Jonah suffered from anxiety, right?”

“He made some vague mentions of it, yeah.”

“Well, he did, although he never liked to admit to it,” she stopped, taking a deep breath, feeling her pulse quickening. She remembered what he had told her, how he had to slow himself down, clear his mind and take deep, measured breaths. “But I’m starting to understand what it felt like. I never understood it when he’d have one of his attacks. It always struck me as odd that the emperor of a Republic like this could still suffer from something so mundane. You know that I used to really get on him about it back on the Omega Destiny?” she asked, not looking for a response. “I used to tell him I should be good enough for him, because I thought there was a solution to everything. I’m quickly learning that there isn’t, though, and it only took me how many years?”

“He hasn’t handed down the assignments yet, Kara.” He was trying to sound reassuring—actually, maybe he was right—she needed to calm down.

“I guess you are right. I wish there was some good news, though.”

“I might have some,” he paused. “But I’m not sure if I should say anything just yet, things aren’t really 100% yet or…”

“Oh for Freyja’s sake, Peter!”

“There are extenuating circumstances,” he sounded tired. “So it’s about Katrijn.”

She felt her heart stop for a beat, and she reached behind her and felt around for the chair she knew was there but it felt like it was across the room. She fumbled around with it before she was able to pull it forward and sit down, the projection still in view. “What about her?”

“She was on Cyngen.” She let her breath out. That meant that she was alive. “A local smuggler found her lifepod and rescued her, apparently some things went south on the planet and they both escaped.”

“She was kidnapped?”

“Not exactly, no, you see,” he paused and ran his fingers over his eyes underneath his glasses. “My operative believes that she is working with him right now. She’s a smart girl, I’m sure she’s using the resources that are available to her. She missed her rendezvous so she knew better than to try to make it late.”

“So where is she headed now? Is she alright?”

“We believe that she’s alright and that she’s headed to Helgun.”

“Oh gods.” She felt a migraine coming on. “Not the Helgean fringe planet?”

“That’s the one.”

“She hopped from the Cydonian underground bunker of a planet to a planet of monks.”

“Not entirely, no.” He shook his head. “Most of the local government is Helgean but there is a good mix out there, it’s a planet with some good resources, but still a bit far off for Cronus to really care much about it.”

“How do we contact her then? Peter, we need to get her back before things get worse here.”

“I agree. I have my operative following them right now and he should be making contact with them by the time they land.”

“Which is?”

“I’d say within three to four days, but really, it depends on if they took the direct route or not.”

“It’s space, Peter.”

“Of course it is,” he laughed. “But there are shipping lanes that we have probes lining to assist travelers. They just escaped from the grips of a few Cydonians, I’m sure  they’ll want to keep a low profile. But, for now things are…Shit!” he swore, something that was out of character for him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Giger is calling me.”

“Giger? What does that snake want?”

“I’m not sure, let me take it and I’ll get back to you.”

“Okay, just be careful.”

“Of course,” he nodded, about to switch off, but paused. “Kara, look out for yourself, okay?”

“I will, you as well, Peter.” His image disappeared and she found herself sitting in silence. The murder of a senator, dissolution of the Senate and now appointing stewards. Things were spiraling out of control at a breakneck pace and Kara found herself wishing that Jonah were there. He would know what do or try to find a way to talk to Cronus. It was the one weakness Cronus had: he wanted to impress his father, even if he resented him and did murder him. His father’s approval was the one thing he was missing.

The chirping of her holoscanner caught her off guard, and she looked down and saw that it was Giger. “Oh no,” she muttered, collecting herself before accepting the call. “Mr. Giger,” she smiled warmly at him.

“That’s Prime Minister Giger now.” He smiled like she imagined a serpent from old Earth stories would.

“Well congratulations, Prime Minister Giger, what can I do for you?” That was a terrible sign; Cronus had already given him a title—the title that Peter had held.

“Emperor Cronus has requested your presence in the audience chamber immediately.”

“Alright, just give me a few moments…”

“I have a guard detail outside your door right now, Your Majesty.” His grin was nothing short of sinister. “There’s no need for delay.”

“Oh, of course,” she said. Kara gathered herself up, took a deep breath and opened up the door to see the guard detail standing silently.

They walked through the palace without a word. She wasn’t under the impression that she was being detained, but these were also Cronus’s personal guards. There was no doubt that Cronus knew that he was making some big waves on this day and that he needed to protect himself, but to send his own guard detail for his mother seemed excessive.

The great doors to Cronus’s audience chamber creaked open to see Cronus on his throne, Giger standing next to him wearing a huge grin and O’Neil standing solemnly in front of them, his hands crossed behind his back. He turned to Kara while she entered and gave her a brief bow, and she returned it before bowing deeply to her son.

“It took you long enough,” Cronus sneered.

“I’m sorry, my son,” she said. “I didn’t think you’d need me for the rest of the day after your announcement earlier.”

“Minister Giger and myself have been moving swiftly,” he said. “We want to avoid any undue resistance to my decree. I understand that change is difficult.”

“It is very wise of you to do so. There will undoubtedly be resistance to this, but I’m sure that you have the full support of both myself and Prime Minister O’Neil.”

“That’s why you are both here,” Giger said. “You were both instrumental in the formation of the Andlios Republic. Without both of you who knows how things would have turned out. We’ve already discussed matters with Steward O’Neil before you arrived,” he motioned a hand toward O’Neil. “But much like the Senate, we fear that your time as key decision-makers has come to an end.”

“I understand,” she said, not shocked, but more afraid of what would become of both of them now that they were being removed from any real power. “If I might ask, what exactly will our roles be?”

“You are both very valuable symbols of hope to many,” Giger said, still wearing his insincere grin. “Emperor Cronus has decided to bestow stewardships on both of you. They are most generous appointments and will be beneficial to the entire Republic.”

“Where will we be going?” she asked, not wanting to know the answer.

“I’m glad you asked,” he said. “We’ve been thinking long and hard about this and we believe that such strong, important figures in the Andlios Republic belong somewhere that feels marginalized, somewhere that felt that it wasn’t getting the respect it deserved from us. So we’ve decided that—”

“They’re shipping us out to the fringes,” O’Neil interrupted.

“Well, yes,” Giger said, keeping his composure. “We are assigning Prime Minister O’Neil to Helgun and for our empress, we’ve decided to keep her closer to home a bit, not quite the fringes like our dear prime minister here. The empress will be heading to Andal-3.”

“When will these assignments begin?” she asked, less upset about her having to travel to Andal-3 than the idea of O’Neil at Helgun, although he did mention that Katrijn was possibly headed in that direction.

“Immediately.”

012. The Long Journey

Alva

Alva found herself sulking around more often after the whole plan was described to her. Returning home to Andlios was always a dream of hers, but she was always told that she wasn’t ready yet, not in good enough condition both mentally and physically. Then later when she was healthy, they told her there were people who would see her as a threat and try to kill her, to erase her from existence. She had always believed Trallex and Trella, but things felt clouded now as she trained for her return home.

She wondered who was left that she’d remember—or that would even remember her. Trallex had shown her a vid of her own funeral, which was a surreal experience. She kept the file handy just in case but could never bring herself to watch it again. The video simply served as a reminder of what had happened and helped push her to work harder. The visual of her always-strong father in tears, while her empty casket floated down the river on fire, would never leave her. The whole scene felt so distant to her, but now she would be heading back there, might even stand at the shores of that river again—alive, changed, but still the same girl.

Alva had fallen into a focused repetition over the past few days. She was aware of what would be expected of her and why all of her training and augmentations mattered. Trallex had shown her what she was capable of when she was jacked in, almost a part of what she could only describe as a collective consciousness. There were still individuals, but information was readily shared without many boundaries. She was very careful about it, but Trallex told her that with time it would pass.

Za’ra quietly moved through Alva’s quarters, her blue shawl wrapped over her head. That shawl was one of the few decorative pieces Alva had seen on any Cydonian in all her time on Cyngen. She had explained it to her when they first met when Alva was trying to break the ice with her. The head wrap was a custom of her family dating back to their nomadic Zarr’nid roots out in the desert, and she chose to wear it to respect her ancestors, not out of familial obligations. Of course, Trella had her own subtle, personal decorations, but the thought of Trella still stung a bit. Za'ra was suitable, but it felt like it was all business and little conversation. She missed those conversations she had had with Trella and still hadn’t gotten an explanation as to why Trella stopped coming by or answering her calls.

“Preparations for your journey are coming along, Princess Alva,” Za’ra said. Alva didn’t bother correcting her to just call her Alva. It felt like it didn’t matter.

“Thanks, Za’ra,” she said. “I appreciate all of your help over the past few weeks.”

“Of course, Princess Alva.”

“I guess I won’t be coming back here, will I?” she asked, not expecting a real answer.

“I do not think so, no,” Za’ra said, the hiss of her voice through her mask sounding almost serene.

“Well, I can’t say I’ll really miss being cooped up on Cyngen,” she said, looking around the room. “But there are some things about here I will miss.”

“Oh?” she asked. “I thought you would be pleased to go home.”

“I’m not sure where home really is anymore if I’m honest with you,” she said. “Honestly, I wasn’t sure you’d even reply to me. You haven’t exactly been much of a talker since we’ve met, Za’ra.”

“I do apologize,” she bowed slightly. “I was under strict instructions from Trallex to avoid becoming too friendly like Trella did and…oh, I should not have—”

“Shouldn’t have what?” Alva felt a sudden swell of emotion inside of her. “Brought up Trella? It’s okay, it’s like everything else on this planet: a giant mystery. Introduce someone into my life, let them gain my trust and then yank them away. I’m sure it’s all a part of some master plan by Trallex to show me the error in my human, emotional ways.”

“I really am not sure,” Za’ra said in an even voice.

“That doesn’t shock me at all.” Alva sunk back into a chair, watching while Za’ra continued to pack up all of Alva’s room. “Nobody is going to tell me what happened to Trella, huh?”

“I wish that I had an answer for you, Princess Alva.” She kept her focus on packing up some of Alva’s clothing into a case. “But I have been told very little, just to assist you.”

“It’s fine, I’m just frustrated is all, I’m sorry.” She let herself relax before she began probing into the network. There had to be some information about Trella available to her somewhere, but most of the nodes were dead ends. Either she was unable to access them or they didn’t exist. She continued to scan before turning her attention to Trallex, pinging him and demanding his presence. There was a slight nod of response, more of a feeling than an actual reply, that told her that he’d be coming. “You’d better hurry up, I just called Trallex here and I don’t think he’s happy.”

“I understand,” Za’ra said, continuing to pack, pausing briefly at the pulseaxe hanging on the wall.

“I’ll be taking that with me, no need to pack it up.”

Za’ra simply nodded to her and continued while Alva sat staring at the door. She wasn’t quite sure what she’d say when Trallex entered the room, but things had been tense between them over the past few weeks. She understood her mission and wasn’t about to fight it, but being separated from the only person she had been able to call her friend on this rock of a planet felt like a step too far.

The door slid open and Trallex stood, looking as regal as ever. He strode into the room, surveying the scene before turning to Alva. “I believe you have some questions you want to ask me.”

“I have a lot of fucking questions, Trallex.”

“That is what I had assumed,” he said, motioning his head toward Za’ra, who scurried out the door. “You want to know about your handmaiden, correct?”

“I’ve been good, haven’t I?” Alva asked, trying to suppress her emotions. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me and am even gearing up for this asinine plot of yours that I never actually volunteered for. I haven’t complained once, but the one person on this rock who I kind of liked being around and you took her away?”

“You are emotional.” He walked around the room, inspecting the walls. “This is one thing that is not tolerated at a certain level for high-ranking Cydonians. It is also what sets you apart from the rest of us and why we strongly believe you’ll appeal to the citizens of Andlios. You are what we are not: emotional. You bonded with your handmaiden, there was a connection there, then we took her away and you are furious. Even right now you are suppressing this rage, but it is there.”

“I thought you wouldn’t notice,” she mocked.

“While we have noticed emotional reactions on a regular basis with you, we needed to know for sure that you were not…different.”

“Different?” She held out her right arm, pulling the sleeve of her shirt back to expose the augmentations. “I’m pretty different, I’d say.”

“We need you to be an emotional person, Princess Alva. If we send you back to your home altered and emotionless then the court of public opinion will not be swayed. We will still be seen as different, as evil, uncaring and everything that they fear. You need to be one of them as much as you are one of us.”

“I’m not sure who I really am anymore.” She was being honest. “I grew up a Krigan, but now? I’m different.”

“You have evolved, Princess Alva.”

“That wasn’t the word I was thinking of,” she said. “So when does Trella come back, then? You’ve done your experiment already.”

“Princess, I’m not sure you understand.”

“Understand what?”

“That you are leaving within a matter of hours on your journey—there is no time for,” he paused, “such trivial matters.”

She let it roll off her but could feel her blood boiling. She knew that he would be able to detect the changes in her mood, but Alva didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of verbalizing it. There was an awkward silence for a brief while before Alva picked herself up and continued packing on her own.

“I can summon Za’ra to finish that,” Trallex said.

“Why bother? I can just finish this on my own. You wouldn’t want me getting too attached now, would you?”

“I see,” he said. She continued to pack while he stood there in the doorway.

“Can you at least tell me,” she kept packing, refusing to look back at him while the tears welled up in her eyes. “Is she going to be alright?”

“Ah yes,” he said. “I did not think about that. Yes, Princess Alva, Trella will be well taken care of. I am very sorry I didn’t think to explain that to you. We do not exactly value these kinds of feelings.”

She didn’t know if she believed it or not, but it did set her at ease. Alva’s skin crawled knowing that Trallex probably noticed how it affected her.

Trella

Trella stood on a balcony overlooking the section of Cyngen that had been dubbed the “Human District.” It sounded inane to her, considering that Cydonians were still human at their core. That very idea made her ache. She was human, she knew it, Alva knew it and most importantly, Trallex knew it. That was why she found herself reassigned, her entries on their codex altered to show no trace of her.

Princess Alva was aware now, she had access to the network and Trella had simply been selected for the role due to the “impurities” they had detected in her earlier. Those impurities were showing signs of emotion. Subtle, at first, but the bond she grew with Princess Alva made those imperfections show more and more. Trallex had given her another chance, explained that they would hide her indiscretions.

Trella knew that Princess Alva would be departing soon, heading to Andlios after her years of training. It was what they had been working toward for so long. Of course, they had never informed Trella of their intentions, she had been just as in the dark as Princess Alva had been. The reasoning was sound to her—it helped keep the experience authentic, but she couldn’t help but feel (as odd as that sounded to her) that she had been used. It felt disgusting.

She had always felt comfortable within the confines of the Cydonian lifestyle, but seeing how an emotional human reacted to everything had opened up a new world of emotion to her. While Trella was careful to outright dismiss the Cydonian way, it felt wrong to force everyone into an emotionless life. The world was abuzz beneath her feet, humans of different backgrounds, races and religions working together unloading ships and going about their daily lives.

There was probably a reason why they moved her quarters close to the Human District—it was either to hide her from the prying Cydonian eyes that would look down on her or to reprogram her. Instead, all it did was make her feel a deep longing for Alva. Alva’s flight would be leaving soon, she knew that, but had no way of finding out exactly which flight or to make contact with her before she left. It felt her feeling strange, like a weight was hung around her neck.

They had discussed her flight plan before she was reassigned, so she knew that Helgun was the first stop in what would be many. Trella pulled up the flight plans for all the ships departing shortly for Helgun only to find that there were twenty-seven such flights with none listing an Alva as a passenger. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy. One flight was leaving in thirty minutes and she noticed there were a few vacancies. She wasn’t sure that she could find the exact flight Alva was on, but she could go to Helgun and attempt to find her there.

The very thought of leaving unannounced and unauthorized made her stomach churn. She added it to the list in her head of unexpected feelings that had arisen in her over the past few months but continued rationalizing her next few moves. Trallex would never let her off the planet, but it wouldn’t hurt to inquire at the last moment, she figured.

The ship was a human vessel—Helgean to be precise. There weren’t many Helgeans on Cyngen, but there were always a few that moved back and forth. They were concerned with the spiritual health of the non-Cydonians living on Cyngen, although most humans on Cyngen were mostly there to avoid the complications that came with living inside the core. That was what the fringes were for: avoiding complications.

She quietly walked through her room then out the door, heading toward the docks. Along the way, she booked herself onto the ship under the name “Freyja.” There would be some questions as to why someone in a full Cydonian suit would have such a common human name, but she was hoping to simply deter Trallex and his agents from catching on too quickly.

The walk through the terminal was quiet, although it felt like the eyes of everyone was on the lone Cydonian boarding the ship, but Trella imagined that it was just her nerves, that she just was feeling what Alva had explained as anxiety to her. She still wasn’t sure exactly what her plan was, but the idea of staying on Cyngen without Alva made her overwhelmed with emotions. This, at least, made her feel like she was doing something.

013. The Monastery

Jace

Everything that could hurt on Jace felt like it was screaming out to him while he sat hunched over in the back of the dark mess hall. They had arrived quietly enough on Helgun, docked the Pequod and met with one of the monks that Jace regularly dealt with on Helgun. The dark sky didn’t bother him anymore but Katrijn seemed taken aback by it, a sharp contrast to the Andliosian days, that was for sure. They were holed up inside one of the large log cabins that served as a part of the monastery in the small city of Ongut on Helgun. The room was dark, like everything else on this planet, which suited him just fine for the time being while they were essentially on the run. His back was pressed up against the wall behind him, his entire torso wrapped up in tape thanks to the three cracked ribs he had suffered during their harrowing escape from Cyngen. The bowl of piping hot noodle soup in front of him was calling to him but he still felt like he was in a daze from all that had happened over the past week. Katrijn Freeman sat across from him eating without either exchanging a word for a long silence.

“So where to next?” she asked, keeping her voice down even though they were the only two inside the building.

“I really don’t know,” he said. “There’s a good chance that someone will be trying to track us. We’ll need to lay low for a bit, I think. I’m just not sure for how long. I’m going to try to get a new contract so we can get out of here, but I gotta feel things out first.”

“We can let you heal up, at least.” She took a slurp from her spoon after blowing on it.

“At least,” he said. “I’ve already spoken with one of my contacts about getting you some new credentials, and we’ve gotta talk about some changes…”

“Changes?” she asked, putting her spoon down in the bowl. “Like what?”

“Your name for one.” He turned toward her. “Then maybe something like cut and dye your hair? I’m not saying plastic surgery or anything major like that, just enough. If you are going to keep flying with me—”

“You know I got by for quite a while without doing any of those things,” she said. “Also, who said I’d keep flying with you?”

“I was just operating under the idea that I was kinda stuck with you.” He shrugged only to feel a sharp pain run through his body, making him cringe in pain. “No offense.”

“I don’t really know where to go from here if I’m honest with myself,” she said, taking another slurp of soup. “There doesn’t seem to be any perceivable way I’ll meet that contact on Cyngen unless I go back.”

“I’m not going back to Cyngen,” he said. “At least not for a while, nor should you. Look, Princess,” the word came out harsher than he had wanted it to, “you have nowhere to go and I’m pretty sure my career just burned up in the atmosphere of Cyngen for the time being. It isn’t ideal, but I can drop you off somewhere after I get my next contract; it just doesn’t seem smart to go back to Cyngen, alright? Isn’t there any other way to reach out to your uncle?”

“I don’t know.” She looked crestfallen staring down into her bowl of soup. “I mean, I don’t even know anymore. I’ve been running for so long, can I really keep running?”

“That’s up to you, I guess. Maybe we can just blast our way into Krigar and take over the whole Republic that way.”

“Well…”

“I was joking,” he looked over at her. “That’s not a good idea.”

“I know,” she said. “I’m just tired of running.”

“For now it seems like the only way.” He picked up his spoon and gestured with it toward her. “At least until we can get you back with your uncle and I can go off on my own again.”

“Well, I appreciate the gesture,” she said. “Not sure I should really worry about changing anything right now, though. I’ve gotten by just fine, I’d say.”

“Look where it ended up, though,” he said. “I’m not saying you weren’t smart, but smart only gets you so far. Your brother isn’t an idiot, as much as I’d like to write him off as such. Even if he is an idiot, he has some smart people working for him, which includes the Old Man.”

“Don’t call him that.”

“Sorry.” He half meant it, but old habits were hard to break. “That’s just what I’ve known him as, it’s not like I’ve ever interacted with someone who considers him family before, right?”

“No, I guess not.” She picked up her spoon and took another mouthful of soup. “So what are you suggesting I do?”

“Shorter hair, maybe a bit darker and…” he said. “Maybe some makeup now and then?”

“Oh great.” She rolled her eyes at him. “Make me into a beauty queen, why don’t you.”

“That reaction is exactly why you doing those things will make you more inconspicuous.”

“You do have a point.” She let her spoon drop into her bowl. “I’m trusting you here.”

“Jol’or would have given me good money to hand you over,” he said, feeling a slight pang of regret. “I know that you know that, but I just wanted to say it out loud so it’s out in the open. I think I’ve earned your trust by now.”

“You were really a hero back there, that’s for sure,” she said. “After I took out three of them while you hid.”

“That’s not funny,” he raised his voice, feeling the pain in his ribs that made him double over. “I played my part just as much as you did. Not everyone was trained by the emperor’s best men in combat. But then again, I guess you weren’t trained in critical thinking while aboard a renegade ship escaping from ADCs.”

“We both have our strengths, then.”

“It’s like we were just born to be partners, huh?”

“Partners in what? I’m not even sure what we are doing, what our play is?”

“There isn’t really a 'we' here, is there?” He stared down into the abyss that was his soup, ripples running through it. “I’m the pilot of a hauler out on the fringes and you are a princess looking to retake a throne.”

“I guess you are right.”

“I’ve gotta make a few calls, but I’ve heard that there’s some big construction stuff going on out on the other side of the system over by Gimle and the Andals.”

“Oh?” She looked up at him.

“Yeah, this might just be talk, but I’ve heard that there is something huge going on over there, tons of contracts flowing freely,” he nodded absently. “I doubt that Jol’or has much influence that far out, so that might be the place to go.”

“You could take me to Andal-3, then,” she said. “One of my uncle’s good friends is out there, he’d be able to help me, I think.”

“I think I have enough money to get us to there without picking up any contracts on the way there, you know, keep things quiet?”

“Good,” she said. “Although, what if Jol’or has reported us to someone? There is a hefty reward out on my head right now and you might be linked to that.”

“I know,” he gulped down a spoonful of soup; it had grown a bit cold during the course of their conversation. “I’ll just have to hope that isn’t the case.”

“I hope I haven’t gotten you into too much trouble,” she said, looking defeated.

“They think you are dead, Kat.” He was beginning to get frustrated with her. “We just have to hope that our eccentric friend is embarrassed enough about letting you slip from his grasp to not want it to get out, otherwise you aren’t dead anymore and I’m a dead man flying.”

“Do you even have a plan in case he did talk?”

“Not yet, no.” He shifted slightly on the bench, trying not to bump his ribs. “For now, I’m searching for a new contract and we are laying low until then.”

“You know, I haven’t really had much downtime in one place over the past, well, most of my life, actually. I’ve always been moving, so I’m not sure I’ll know how to sit still in one place for more than a few days.”

“I guess we should go looking for something to dye your hair with and something to pretty you up then.” He picked himself up slowly, making sure to not agitate his injuries. “You know, keep you busy?”

“Pretty me up?” She looked up at him, and Jace turned red almost instantly.

“Damnit,” he said. “You know what I meant.”

“Maybe along the way we’ll teach you how to interact with other human beings as well.”

Katrijn

Katrijn stood staring at herself in the mirror, seeing what looked like an entirely different person staring back at her. Jet black hair cut at shoulder length and pulled back into a Krigan warbraid, dark eyeshadow and lipstick making her usually soft features strikingly sharp. The girl looking back at her from the mirror was still her, but it felt strange to see what looked like Katrijn from an alternate reality staring back at her. This was the woman who could live a happy life without worrying about intergalactic politics or legacies. This was a new woman and she was happy being nobody. The thought of not being Katrijn Freeman anymore hurt, even if it was just for show.

She let out a sigh and accepted that this was her life now, that she was on the run and the only way to fix things was to put her pride aside for a brief amount of time. “Alright,” she said, walking out of the bathroom to see Jace scrolling through a news feed on his holoscanner, only to look up and start laughing. “Oh, fuck you.”

“No, no,” he stopped laughing, clutching at his side. “You just look so miserable. But yeah, that’ll do.”

“Why would I ever be miserable about having to cut all of my hair off, dye it black and to have this much crap on my face?”

“Well, you look totally different, and that is all that matters,” he said. “Now, have you come up with a name for yourself?”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” she paused, trying to find the right way to phrase it. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed or not, but this whole look is kind of, well, similar to that photo of your wife.”

“Oh,” he went silent.

“I’m sorry to bring it up, but you gotta admit that this might be a little bit close to your ‘type’ of woman, right?”

“Yeah,” he said, his face flush. “I guess you’ve got a point there.”

“So, this is your ship and your show for right now, and we might be running into a lot of your people for now,” she said, trying to tread carefully. “I was thinking I could pose as your new wife just, you know…” She felt herself starting to feel self-conscious. “For now, you know?”

“That’s actually a great idea,” Jace said, obviously trying to not sound too excited by the prospect of Katrijn being married to him. “It gives us a reason to be looking to procure you some new documents, too, not that my guys would really care much for the reasoning. So, anyway, Krios as your last name, what about a first? I don’t think that we can keep using ‘Kat’ for any real reason.”

“No, we can’t,” she agreed. “I was thinking of something simple like Eja.”

“Perfect,” he said. “So Eja Krios it is, then.”

“I guess so.” She forced a smile, still feeling uneasy about the whole thing. “So we should probably get the documentation taken care of, then?”

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea, let me just gather myself up,” he said.

Helgun was a strange planet, at least in contrast to the ones Katrijn had been on. The planet was simple, almost to a fault. Andlios was still rooted in tradition, but that tradition was that of many people and beliefs, meaning that there was diversity that led to a bit of a blend of all the cultures into one dominant culture. There was a lot of Krigan, sure, but Cydonian, Omegan and Helgean culture were all mixed in just as much. There were even cultures and people that had tapered off but still served as tributaries to the giant river that was Andliosian culture.

If Cyngen was New Cydonia then Helgun was the New Helgea. The Helgean faith was everywhere, as was the simple life the monks had vowed to live, spitting in the face of advanced technology. Wooden cabins with a hearth at the center and benches lining the walls. Everyone was so quiet and while there were small outcroppings of non-Helgeans, they felt just as isolated as the non-Cydonian settlements felt on Cyngen. If Andlios was the melting pot, then the fringes were the places where there was a pot, but it was mostly full of tradition with the occasional outside ingredient tossed into the mix.

Even the port they landed on was primitive in comparison to the ones she had remembered back on Andlios and looked especially threadbare after coming from Cyngen. The Helgean religion was really everywhere, which was a shock considering how little of it there was elsewhere in the Republic, even on Andlios. The monks all had their own jobs and roles to keep the planet in working order, but there were prayers done three times a day—morning, afternoon and evening—when most of the planet was eerily quiet. Now was one of those times, it being mid-afternoon and most of the monks were either at their churches or were home with their families praying. She wasn’t even sure how they figured out what time of day it was without constantly checking their holoscanners due to how dim the sunlight was on the planet.

There were mostly off-worlders mulling around while they walked through the very quiet, quaint city square. They would have stuck out anyway for not wearing full robes like most of the Helgeans did. Gender seemed almost immaterial on Helgun considering that buried in the heavy robes and cowls everyone looked so similar. It always fascinated her that both the Helgeans and Cydonians favored this sort of gender neutrality in everything they did, although the Cydonians were different in many, many different ways from the Helgeans.

Still, it was very obvious to her that there was a man following them at a safe distance trying to look inconspicuous, but at this time of day, his intentions of trailing them were painfully clear. “So, don’t look back,” she whispered over to Jace. “But we’ve got a tail, I think.”

“Oh, shit,” Jace, of course, looked behind him before Katrijn could slam her elbow into his ribs, forcing him to cry out and quickly turn back around.

“What did I say about not turning around?” She was gritting her teeth. Jace seemed like an alright guy but she was surprised he hadn’t been swallowed into a black hole or calculated a jump into a planet already.

“Right, sorry,” he said. “So what do we do?”

“Just follow my lead and have your gun ready.”

“Can do.”

They continued through the main street while only a few scattered people were walking by before Katrijn motioned for them to turn behind one particularly large log building. She sprinted off toward the back of the building while dragging Jace behind her, hearing him groan in pain. Katrijn pulled him back behind the wall behind the building while the sound of pursuing footsteps intensified. Jace sidled up along the wall and pulled his gun out, checking the charge while she stood near the end, knife ready in one hand.

A man in heavy armor, much like the mercs on Cyngen, rounded the corner, and Katrijn swept out her leg, sending him crashing to the ground. She quickly pounced on top of him while he rolled onto his back, holding her knife to his throat while her knees pinned down his arms. Her breathing had intensified, but she was in firm control. “You’ve got ten seconds to answer before this ends badly for you,” she said.

“For me?” The man laughed through his helmet. “I’m not the one who’s surrounded.”

“What?”

She glanced back at Jace and saw him with his hands raised, two guards flanking him with their guns pointed at him. She looked back down at the merc she had pinned down and heard a low, guttural laugh coming from him. “Surrender.”

“I’ve still got my knife to your throat,” she said. “I’m not so sure I’ve lost yet.”

“We’ve got your friend here,” one of the guards behind her said. “We’ll not hesitate to blow his brains out.”

“Who says he’s my friend?”

“The fact that you haven’t killed me yet,” the man on the ground said. “Don’t test me.”

“Eja,” Jace said, “don’t listen to them, Eja, you can still get outta here.”

“Who the fuck is Eja?” The man on the ground laughed. “You can dye your hair all you want, you are Katrijn Freeman and Jol’or is looking for you.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” she said. “What I do know is that I could slit your throat and kill your two friends back there before you knew what was happening.”

“Go ahead,” the man on the ground chortled. “Make my day.”

“Boss,” one of the men next to Jace said. “Should I smoke him?”

“Hold on,” he said. “Let her soak it in. She’s fucked.”

Katrijn scanned around, realizing they were in a world of trouble. The only way out was to save herself, not knowing what these goons would do to Jace. Even if she was on the run, essentially in exile and believed to be dead, she was still Katrijn Freeman and had a responsibility to the people of Andlios. Jace had gone above and beyond to help her, and cutting him loose now would be wrong, something she wouldn’t be able to live with, even if he was kind of a dork. She relented her hold on the captain on the ground slowly, dropping her knife beside him and conceding defeat.

“Alright, don’t shoot,” she said.

“There,” the captain said, “I knew you’d see it our way.”

“Jol’or will be pleased we were able to—”

The merc on the right of Jace stopped cold mid-sentence, a gurgling coming from his throat before his body tumbled to the ground like a sack of old meat. Before the other merc could mutter a word, Jace was on top of him, raining down blows with his fists and elbows. Katrijn turned back toward the man she had pinned down, but he had her knife now and it was rushing up toward her throat. She caught it with her hand but the force of it sent her crashing to the canvas. Another shot cracked through the sky, missing the intended target but distracting him long enough for Katrijn to pull her other knife free and drive it into the merc captain’s throat, his body convulsing underneath her.

“What the hell?” Jace asked.

“I have no idea,” she said.

A man of dark complexion and a rifle slung over his shoulder rounded the corner, and Katrijn grabbed her other knife and held them both at the ready. The man paused, looked down at the fallen merc who had been shot from afar and smiled. “Damn, that was a good shot, huh?”

“You’ve got ten seconds to answer before this ends badly for you,” she said.

“It doesn’t have to,” the man said, noting that both Jace and Katrijn had weapons pointed at him. “Too bad that second shot missed, though, huh? I’m a bit rusty from that distance, I guess.”

“Ten…nine…eight…seven…” she was counting.

“Okay, okay, stop,” he held his hands out.

“Answers, then,” she said. “Now.”

“I’m here to help you, obviously. Otherwise I coulda blown your head off with ease.”

“I’m worth more alive than dead to some.”

“So you are, but I’m here to protect you, not kill you.”

“So you aren’t just some local goon then,” she said. “You’ve got five…four…”

“The Old Man sent me, alright?” he said.

“No, he didn’t.” She tightened her grip on her knives. “He hates being called that, plus, your time is up.”

“Whoa whoa whoa!” he said.

“Hey, Eja,” Jace said, and Katrijn almost forgot that it was supposed to be her name now. “Why don’t we at least listen to the man.”

“Krios there is right, you know, uh,” he paused briefly, “Eja?”

“Yeah, I am,” he kept focused on the man. “Although knowing my name doesn’t seem like a good sign. Did Jol’or send you?”

“No,” he said. “You are lucky he didn’t send me because you two sure made a mess back there. Who do you think had to clean that shit up?”

“Enough of this funny guy stuff already,” Kat said.

“Alright, calm down,” he said. “I may have gone about this the wrong way, but after missing that rendezvous with you a while back, the Old Man kept me on the case, and told me to follow you here and track you down.”

“How do I know that you don’t work for Cronus?”

“Because I work for your uncle, Kat,” he said. “If you let me reach into my pocket I can pull up a direct connection to him and confirm it, alright?”

“Fine.” She pulled her knife back and tugged him up by his shirt, pressing him up against the wall. “Jace, keep him in your sights.”

“Thanks,” he said, looking relieved. “Although I’m not sure he needs to be pointing that thing at me; I’ve seen your shot, man, it ain’t great. A warning shot from you will probably melt my face off.”

“No shit,” Jace said. “But until she says otherwise, this gun is pointed at you.”

“Fair enough, I guess.” He pulled a holoscanner out from his pocket, presenting it to Kat. “See, just a holoscanner, no tricks.”

“No tricks,” she nodded.

“Alright, let me just pull this up and…” He paused, cursing under his breath. “No no, just give me a second, maybe something is just—damnit!”

“What’s wrong?” Jace asked, taking one step in.

“Connection to O’Neil’s private terminal is being denied.” He was beginning to sweat. “Not just the usual, but something is wrong.”

“There’s a lot wrong,” she said. “From my brother dissolving the Senate to you following us.”

“You gotta believe me.” He was starting to look panicked. “The Old Man sent me, just, I can’t reach him. He told me he’d call, though, in a few days.”

“Sounds like stalling to me.” She moved the knife toward his neck.

“No, you gotta believe me,” he flinched. “I’ve seen what you can do with that thing, be careful with it.”

“Ha, fat chance,” Jace said. “Getting her to listen to an order?”

“Look, I know you’ve been through a lot, but you gotta believe me.” The man kept his eye on Katrijn’s blade. “The fact that I can’t get through to him right now is just as bad for you as it is for me. I gotta assume that you two wanna talk to the Old Man, I know you aren’t going back to Cyngen with Jol’or on the hunt for you, plus that stunt you played with their defense grid probably pissed off a lot more than just him.”

“Yeah, that was a pretty great move,” Jace boasted, still favoring his side. “Wasn’t it?”

“So that was you, then?” he said. “I dug it, man. It’s the kind of crazy that those Cymages don’t think about.”

“Well thank you.” Jace turned to Kat, grinning wide. “At least someone respects my genius.”

“Whatever,” she said, “I still don’t trust this guy.”

“It’s Loren, by the way,” he said. “Nobody ever asked or anything, but it’s Loren, Loren Jones.”

“Well, Loren,” she emphasized his name. “I still don’t see a reason to trust you.”

“Look,” he said, “the Old Man said he’d call and he’ll call, just give it time. Shit is fucked up back home, you know that as well as I do. They all think you are dead and your brother has gone even more nuts, if that is even possible. He’ll call.”

“I’m not sure I trust him either,” Jace interrupted. “But by the look of things afternoon prayer is letting out and having a gun and knife on Loren in broad daylight isn’t the best idea.”

“This is broad daylight?” Loren looked up, still careful with Kat’s knife resting against his neck. “This is pretty dim if you ask me.”

“It’s a dim planet,” she sighed, pulling her knife off of his neck and sliding it into the hilt by her back. “But he’s right, we should get off the streets and back to our room.”

014. The Cold Night

O’Neil

Out of everything on Andlios, his personal garden that he had tended to since he took up residence inside the palace was what O’Neil would miss the most. His original garden on the Omega Destiny was difficult to leave, but the idea of his own garden planted in actual soil had excited him too much to be overly upset about leaving it behind. Initially, he had a garden in the cobbled together shantytown of Speera, the first settlement created for a select few from the Omega Destiny, but everything about Speera felt like a fever dream at this point. Even though Speera itself still stood in the same place, it had become much more than old parts of the Omega Destiny bulkhead with tarps hastily thrown over them for walls. Now it was a living, breathing city and that garden, much like his tiny one on the ship, was long since gone. The garden in the palace had become his passion, though, the only remnant of his past life that remained for him. There were no children to worry about, his ex-wife Jeanette had returned to Earth with the Fourth Fleet and he never found the right way to talk to Dr. Susan Brandis. Perhaps that was still the greatest regret of his life.

He had been keeping tabs on Sue from afar and was proud to see that she was having as much success in her fieldwork as she had always dreamed of. He couldn’t help but feel guilty for the way he had treated her. Much like him, she had never married, but unlike him, she seemed to have a support system and had moved on with her life. There were a few times he had reached out to her only to get no reply, but he felt compelled to try again, considering it was his last night on Andlios, perhaps ever. That reality had yet to really sink in yet, but he knew that the only way he was coming back was going to be if Katrijn returned. Otherwise, there wasn’t much left for him on Andlios—just pain and regret.

It was later in the evening, but still not late in Krigar. Without thinking, he ran a query on Dr. Brandis to make sure she was stationed nearby. For years O’Neil had kept tabs on her occasionally, but life had worn on and he had let that lapse. The readout said that she was working at the Levine Observatory in downtown Krigar, which meant that she was actually nearby. An observatory seemed like a tame job for someone who was as adventurous as Sue. She had initially been so excited to explore Andlios when they had first arrived and now she was in charge of an observatory in the capital, go figure. O’Neil straightened out his spine, fixed his shirt and adjusted his glasses before finally working up the courage to do more than just sit and stare at her name. This was an exercise that he had done countless times before, but it had been cycles since the last time he had dialed her only to hang up. This time would be like any other, he figured; he’d get no answer, leave no message. O’Neil took a deep breath and pressed the “CALL” button.

“Hello?” An unmistakable-yet-aged face appeared on the screen, short hair that was now mostly grey but that he had remembered as chestnut brown framing her face—Sue’s face. It felt like there was a frog in his throat. “Oh my,” she gasped.

“Uh, yeah.” He scratched behind his neck. “Hi Sue, it’s Peter.”

“Peter O’Neil,” she smiled, which melted his heart just as it had all those cycles prior. “Or should I say Prime Minister O’Neil? I was never good with keeping formality with you.”

“Just Peter is fine, really,” he said. “In fact, I’m no longer prime minister, so no more stuffy titles for me.”

“Oh, well that’s a shame.” She was still smiling, which made his mechanical heart feel jumpy. Even if it was a new heart, it still burned just the same as his old one did when he spoke with her. “You accomplished a lot, though. Everyone knows who you are and respects you.”

“Not the emperor,” he said. “But I guess I am an old man now, right?”

“We’re both older now, that’s for sure.”

“Anyway, I just…” He paused, unable to find the right words. “I appreciate you taking this call, Sue. The last time we spoke—”

“It was a very long time ago, Peter,” she said. “I’m sorry that was the last time we spoke, but you had hurt me, and I didn’t know what else to do.”

“It was a long time ago,” he said, keeping his composure, although the memory was playing back in his mind of her upset with him, telling him never to call her again. “I just couldn’t bear the thought of that being the last communication between us. I was a fool for how I treated you and I don’t expect forgiveness or anything like that, I just wanted you to know that.”

“It’s been so long, Peter, there’s nothing to be sorry about.”

“So I’ve been feeling this weight on me for years for nothing then?” A joke felt like the only way for him to hold it together.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I thought you would have moved on by now, I was just upset with you back then. I felt rejected and, well, I was so wrapped up in my work for so long. I never meant for you to carry that burden like that.”

“I never quite moved on, no. This job consumed me, as did a lot of guilt. I’ve done my best for the Andlios Republic, but sadly, I feel that it hasn’t been enough.”

“You are one man, you always have been and always will be. You were always so concerned about everyone else aboard that ship as well. I’m sure you got your garden out there, but not your cabin in the middle of nowhere. But then again, we didn’t exactly get what we had wished for, did we?”

“No, nowhere close to that. Just my garden.” He peered back through his window, taking a long hard look at the garden that in the morning would no longer be his.

“Well, it is getting late, Peter. We should meet for lunch sometime, I would like that very much.”

“I would as well,” he said. “But sadly I’m leaving in the morning for a while, so I guess I’ll have to catch you the next time I’m back planetside.”

“Oh. Where are you headed?”

“I have a new assignment as the steward of Helgun. It wasn’t exactly my choice, but it was assigned tonight and I’m to leave in the morning.”

“That’s awful.”

“It is, but this is my duty and my life, I suppose.”

“Helgun is so far away, out in the fringes, even. But I guess you’ll get your cabin in the middle of nowhere.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll have to start my garden all over again, but I guess a forced retirement was in order. I wasn’t about to go anywhere.”

“No, that doesn’t sound like you at all.”

“Well, Sue,” he said. “I’m glad we got to catch up, but I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner.”

“Don’t forget you owe me lunch, Peter.”

“Of course,” he said. “Take care of yourself, Sue.”

He flipped the feed off, letting out a sigh. He sat in silence for a while, staring off into the distance at nothing in particular. If there was one thing he wasn’t, it was a fool, but right now he sure felt like one for waiting so long to talk to her. There was a faint glimmer of hope that maybe if and when he got back he could try to at least see her again, but something about this trip felt very final. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was heading to his impending doom.

There was a knock at his door, which after a day like he was having could actually be his doom, but he took a deep breath and picked himself up, tugging down his shirt and strode over to the door. The door opened with a creak to find Kara on the other side, looking more composed than he expected her to be at this hour, at least more composed than he was.

“Kara,” he motioned for her to come in, closing the door behind her.

“I guess this will be the last time we meet in here, huh?”

“That’s what it’s looking like,” he said. “Would you care for some tea? I just made a pot for myself, and I always have plenty to spare.”

“Why not?” She smiled up at him and held her hand out, accepting the warm mug in her hands. “I’ve never had your homegrown tea in all these years, can you believe it?”

“We haven’t always been this…” He paused, searching for the right words, “friendly, I guess, have we?”

“No, we haven’t.” She took a careful sip. “I was a bit blinded, I’ll admit.”

“I was a bit biased as well, Kara,” he said. “I saw you as a hindrance to what Jonah and I were attempting to build. After that stuff with your father and you shooting him and all, well, you can’t blame me if I thought you had ulterior motives.”

“I loved him, Peter,” she said. “I still do, I still miss him to this day. We were foolish before, yes, we had hurt each other and he did some reckless things, but at the end of the day, we were able to work through it.”

“Well, then there was the fact that you were closer to Cronus than Katrijn.”

“True,” she said. “I just saw how hurt he was by how much Jonah loved Katrijn and how he so badly wanted to be loved. It didn’t seem to work, though, did it? He’s shipping me off to Andal-3 and you to Helgun.”

“You’ll be okay, Kara,” he assured her. “I’ve sent a message to one of my good friends out there, Jack Dumas and his husband, Hideo. Jack was my first officer on the Omega Destiny and now he’s one of the planet’s community leaders, and his husband Hideo is in charge of communications there. They’ll look after you and help you in any way they can; it’ll also be how we keep in contact, through them.”

“I appreciate that, Peter,” she said. “I’ve met them both a handful of times and I know how important they are to you.”

“They are.”

“What are you going to do on Helgun?”

“I had an operative on Cyngen who was heading for Helgun last time we spoke. In fact, he was pursuing the ship he was sure Katrijn was on. Cronus assumed that this would cut the legs out from underneath me, but if Loren can track down Katrijn and get her to stay put before I get there this might work out in our favor.”

“There’s no rest for you, is there?”

“There can’t be,” he said. “As long as the society I helped create is such a mess, I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep.”

Kara

Kara stood at the spaceport, surprised at the amount of pomp and fanfare there was for her departure. There were media and onlookers lining the spaceport and fresh flower petals strewn about the lush red carpet. She had always felt invisible compared to her husband and her son, but the people of the Andlios Republic did have some affection left for her, it seemed. O’Neil had explained to her that there was a group of citizens that had been pressing for her to take power afterJonah’s death, but Cronus had played his hand expertly and immediately took the throne, extinguishing those hopes of ever seeing Kara rise to power.

Power was something Kara had never really desired, either. She had always wanted to be a journalist, but instead, life threw her a curveball and made her the empress of humanity’s largest empire. In a way, she still didn’t have power, that much was clear by the fact that she was being shipped off to Andal-3 to be out of the way. That, however, did provide her with some comfort. Cronus and Giger had seen her as a threat to their power, which didn’t console her for having to leave her home, but it at least assured her that she was doing the right thing by working with Peter of late.

Her personal staff was coming with her, but there had been significant turnover since Cronus took power. Working in the palace was a difficult job, only made more difficult by how Cronus ran things with an iron fist. Some of her staff simply disappeared, which she didn’t think much of at first, but as time passed, the knowing smiles from Cronus made chills run down her spine and let her imagination run wild. There were some things about her son that she simply didn’t want to know about, although she figured it might come out eventually anyway no matter what she wanted to ignore. She had been living in the dark for so long and it felt like she was finally seeing her surroundings for what they were and it was maddening.

Since arriving on Andlios, she had only been off-world only a number of times and was always a bit nervous about the initial takeoff. The gravitational forces involved with taking off were very strong, regardless of the technological wizardry that had happened since their arrival on Andlios in a large, lumbering beast of a ship. She braced herself into her specialized chair that was decorated like a throne, letting herself settle into it and feel it wrap itself around her. This was her personal ship, after all, even if she seldom used it, so surely it would have a personalized throne. The countdown sounded off throughout the ship while she gripped the armrests of her chair tightly, her palms sweating. The word sabotage crept through her mind, the thought of her ship exploding on the pad, written off as a great tragedy and a way for him to be rid of her forever.

Cronus wouldn’t have her killed, especially not with this kind of fanfare and attention surrounding her departure. Then again, if it looked like an accident, he could wash his hands of it, just like he was able to wash his hands of Jonah’s death. A cold chill ran down her spine, followed by a feeling of crushing anxiety. The air was increasingly difficult to breathe and her chest was hurting. The ship had yet to take off, which meant it would only become more and more difficult for her to breathe.

“Stop,” she whispered. “Stop!” Louder this time, but it was too late, the ship took off, the force pressing her firmly against her chair and making it even more difficult for her to catch her breath, never mind shout. It continued for what felt like an eternity, her struggling to breathe in and out, to calm herself down, but she was waiting for something to go wrong.

The sudden halt of the crushing pressure felt like a welcome relief and much to her surprise, they were simply on their way, and nothing sinister had happened. Apparently, Giger was a bit more level-headed than her son was and saw no value in killing her off just yet. Kara knew Peter had gotten off-planet just fine, but he had his own operatives everywhere that reported only to him, not to the emperor, meaning that he had his own private police force of sorts to protect him. She felt foolish for not having something similar, but knowing that two of his friends were waiting for her on Andal-3 did make things easier.

The pain in her chest was starting to alleviate and her breaths were coming easier, but she still felt sick. This wasn’t the first time the crushing fear had taken hold of her, but admitting it to herself was always difficult. Jonah, her strong emperor, had complained about having anxiety problems throughout his adult life but she had never believed it. For a man who had done the things he had done, the idea of him suffering from similar attacks seemed almost comical. How could someone become an emperor and take charge of humanity’s future like he did while feeling like this?

He had always told her that he had a public face and a private one, which she foolishly scolded him for. “I mean it,” he had explained to her a few weeks before the hunting expedition that would be his last. “They still happen from time to time, you know that.”

“Jonah, that’s bullshit and you know it,” a younger Kara had said.

“You know you hurt me all of those years ago when you told me I shouldn’t have problems anymore because of you. I have always appreciated you, but these aren’t about you, darling.”

“I may have been insensitive,” she conceded. “But really, you are telling me that you could put an ax through two guards, get shot by me and go and deliver one of the most historic speeches in mankind’s history and it never bothered you, but for stupid, little things like having to make public addresses you have to calm yourself down before? I don’t get it.”

“I’m not sure I do, either,” he had laughed. He had aged by that point, obviously, but the man she fell in love with still shone through all of those cycles later. “I guess I can just shut down my mind and handle things when I’m not prepared for it, or when I’m in a do-or-die situation. But the mundane I have scheduled out? I’m a mess.”

Her lack of faith or understanding all of those cycles prior made her feel awful in retrospect, but knowing what he felt did provide her with some solace, at least. He wasn’t crazy, just a bit strange at times. That was why she loved him. She settled back into her chair and reminded herself that she lived in a ship for most of her life, and the rest of the journey would be an easy one. What were a few days in the grand scheme of things?

015. The Return

Alva

Wait,” Alva stood in the cockpit of the ship, tightly gripping a handle overhead. The ship was a smaller freighter, just a cargo ship that had been making regular runs between the fringes and the core without much luxury aboard. The all-Cydonian crew and the presence of Trallex only helped to amplify how important this mission was to the Cydonians. Trallex hadn’t left Cyngen since the death of Ingen, which meant it was not only a vital mission but perhaps the most vital mission for the Cydonian people. She could feel and read her stress levels rising, a still-uncomfortable reality of her new abilities. “So we are going straight to Andlios?”

“Yes, Princess Alva.” Trallex was standing with his arms crossed overlooking the small three-Cydonian crew in the cockpit. He didn’t bother looking back at her. “Surprise is key in an operation like this. The less interaction that is forced the better chance we have of remaining undetected.”

“I’m sure the leader of the Cydonians and a deceased Krigan princess might raise a few eyebrows, huh?”

“You know that the Cydonians have no true leader,” he said. She imagined him being irritated if he was capable of it. “I am merely a conduit. You are a symbol. These are our roles and we should embody them.”

“I’m more than a symbol,” she said. “I’m a person, a person of importance, apparently. You need me for this mission.”

“Where you are to serve as a symbol.”

“You’ve taught me well, Trallex. But you have to allow me to be myself, that is the only way this works. That’s not me saying that, either, that came from you.”

“So it did.”

“You should have let Trella come with us.” She knew he didn’t want to hear about it again, but she remained steadfast on it.

“You have made yourself clear on that,” he said. “The decision was made and actions were taken. She is doing just fine back on Cyngen and Za’ra is here with you now.”

“No offense to Za’ra,” she said, “but I don’t have an emotional bond to her. If I’m to do this my way—a blend of Krigan and Cydonian—then I need to follow my heart. I miss her, Trallex, and I think she misses me.”

“I am sure she does,” he said.

“You think that is shameful, don’t you? A Cydonian having an emotional bond to another person like that? That’s what gives me power, though—my ability to feel and be rational like a Cydonian. That is what makes me different. You know that I’m going to do everything in my power to find her, don’t you?”

“We would prefer you focus on the mission at hand first,” he sounded as cold as ever. “If things progress in a favorable manner, there might be a chance of bringing her to Andlios. For now, I have heard your argument and Za’ra will not be necessary planetside.”

“Don’t give me false hopes.” Even without inflection or emotion she could tell when Trallex was lying. “You think Trella’s a distraction to me and a disgrace to her people.”

“Perhaps.” He unfolded his arms and turned to her. “We do not pretend to be all-knowing. There is sadly still a margin of error in our calculations and she might prove to be vital in the future for you.”

“That sure makes me feel better.” She let go of the handhold and sat back into the chair behind her. She couldn’t shake the feeling of being uncomfortable being this far out in space. As a girl, she never left Andlios and since she was revived she had never left Cyngen; this was her first time in space and while she was sure Trallex saw the readings of stress, she refused to show any signs outwardly. “So how much longer will this take?”

“There are still seventeen days left, Princess Alva,” Trallex replied coldly. “You could easily pull up the navigational data yourself if you want further information.”

“This is going to be a long journey with you acting like this,” she said. “I guess continue briefing me on the situation down there?”

“Agreed.”

She headed down to the common room they had been using to discuss their plans, gripping tightly onto the rail all throughout. Space travel was oddly calm compared to how she had imagined it, but there was still the irrational fear of something going wrong that she couldn’t shake. It was an unfounded fear, something that Trallex clearly saw as foolish, but as hard as she tried, she was showing weakness by grabbing the rails. That was one thing she wasn’t willing to bend on, though.

“So things have really gotten out of control there, haven’t they?” she asked, settling down into her usual chair closest to the wall.

“Yes, thankfully,” he sat across from her, crossing his legs.

“So the Senate has been dissolved, what else?”

“They have sent key opposition figures away to other planets.” He pulled up a projection showing headshots of a few Andlios Republic figures, mostly senators, but also included the empress and Prime Minister O’Neil. “The empress will be stationed on Andal-3 and the now former Prime Minister O’Neil will be sent to Helgun.”

“From what I’ve seen it seems like the people tend to love Ingen’s wife.”

“Yes,” he said, enhancing her profile. “The empress had gained favor early on after Emperor Freeman’s death as his successor, but Cronus was of age and Katrijn had fled. There was chaos and Cronus took advantage of the situation.”

“What about now? I figure people will be pretty upset about all of these decisions.”

“They are.” He zoomed back out, pulling up some feeds from the planet of riots and protests. “Things have worked out in our favor, which is why we must move quickly. There is unrest. They are using their military force to attempt to quell the discontent, but it is spreading. The people are looking for a leader, which is where you will come in.”

“I’m not really sure I’m much of a leader, though.”

“You will be,” he said. “We shall make sure of it.”

Trella

Space flight had never been a part of her duty when it came to looking after Alva, but she had still been off-world a number of times in her life. It didn’t make the flight any more bearable considering she was the only Cydonian heading to a planet that was the antithesis of Cydonian culture and ways. She stuck out about as much as someone in a fully-mechanized and pressurized suit could among tourists and Helgeans in their robes. She stopped noticing the stares after the first day, but it didn’t make the flight any easier.

Attempting to remain inconspicuous as the sole Cydonian on the flight was nearly impossible, with her actually being one of the main attractions for those aboard the ship. She didn’t mind the gawking, the whispers or the stares as long as no one reported her. No one would know that she had essentially escaped Cyngen without authorization, but by now they would have noticed that she was missing from her quarters and would most likely reach out to the ship’s captain. That concerned her deeply.

At this juncture it would behoove her to seek out the captain and explain her dilemma to him, appeal to his humanity and hope that he wasn’t looking to cash in on any possible reward that was out for her. This was, of course, a risky move in even attempting to broach the topic with anyone, but it felt like her only move. There was still a good chance he wasn’t aware that she was a fugitive and potentially worth a lot of credits. Usually, decisions such as this would be weighed in on via the CyNet, a consensus being reached by multiple Cydonians on where to move forward, but she was disconnected and while it was oddly freeing, it was also lonely. She was left to her baser instincts on decisions such as this and the fear creeped up in the back of her mind as to what could happen if she was wrong. With her mind swimming, she opened the door to her closet-sized quarters to stretch out and attempt to clear her mind. The common areas felt less and less inviting with each passing day, but she needed to get her mind off of Alva.

She walked quietly through the larger common area, outfitted with crash couches, a table and a linkup for holoscanners to project onto a larger screen. A little girl with curly brown hair sat with her mother, quietly playing a game on her holoscanner. There were a few other passengers seated in the same area, each lost in their own holoscanners. She, of course, did not need one because of her suit, but she still wore one on her hip so she wouldn’t seem as out of place as she actually was. The girl’s mother sat next to her with her arm wrapped around her, sporting shorter, straight brown hair and a concerned expression on her face.

“Mama.” The little girl looked up at her mother. “Is that the Cymage everyone is talking about?”

“Shhh,” the mother quickly shushed her daughter. “Yes, but you don’t call them that when they are around, okay?”

“It’s fine, really,” Trella looked over at them, the mother’s face losing its color. “I’ve heard worse before.”

“I’m so sorry, I just…”

“It’s fine,” she said.

“No, I’m very sorry,” the mother seemed flustered. “You are sorry, aren’t you, Saraya?”

“Yes,” the little girl pouted, staring down at her pink and white saddle shoes that just barely reached over the edge of the couch.

“Tell her you are sorry, then, Saraya.”

“I’m sowwy,” the girl said.

“It’s okay.” Trella bent down to look at the little girl. “You are still young, Saraya, I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I’m really sowwy,” the girl reiterated.

“She’s just scared,” the mother said. “She’s never met a Cydonian before.”

“Didn’t this flight come from Cyngen?”

“Well yes,” she said. “But not many Cydonians were around. We were just visiting her uncle out there. She saw a few Cydonians, but at a distance, not up close like this.”

“Well, Saraya.” Trella looked back at the girl, who was fidgeting with the holoscanner in her hands, trying not to look up. “We aren’t that different, you and I, see?” Trella reached up and loosened the hood over her head, pulling it back and letting her hair fall out.

“Oooh,” the girl said, looking up at her then back to her mom. “Mommy, she has hair like I do.”

“She does,” the mom laughed.

“See? Not scary at all,” Trella said.

“I like you,” Saraya said. “You have hair like I do!”

“I like you as well, Saraya,” Trella said. She was smiling underneath her mask but knew that nobody else could see it. It was perhaps the best she had felt since she was with Alva.

“Mom,” Saraya turned to her mother. “Can she help me color?”

“That’s up to…” She looked up at Trella. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure I caught your name?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Trella said. “My name is Trella.”

“Trella,” she said. “That is up to Trella here.”

“I was just going for a walk,” she said. “So yes, I’d love to help you color, Saraya.”

Trella sat down on the couch next to Saraya and her mother, Saraya projecting out the picture she was coloring in front of her. It was a photo of a wild horse with a great flowing mane prancing through a meadow with a great big sun hanging in the sky. The girl had already begun coloring in the horse as brown with white hair. She tapped her chin before looking up at Trella. “You can start on the grass if you want,” she said. “You can pick the color. I think it’s gween, buuut you pick.”

“Okay I will,” Trella said, tapping a lighter green with a blue tinge before she started tracing her finger along with the image and filling in the grass sections.

Sitting there and coloring with the little girl was oddly calming. The girl was rather reckless in how she was painting the horse, with the program compensating for anything that went beyond the lines. Trella on the other hand, carefully traced her finger within the confines of the lines for the grass, making sure not to get any color outside of the lines, even if the computer would quickly erase anything that erred beyond the lines designated for the grass.

“You two look like you are enjoying this,” the mother smiled. “But we should go get something to eat before bed. C’mon, Saraya, say goodbye to Trella for now.”

“Mommmmm, do we have to?”

“Yes.” The woman stood up, turning to Trella. “Thank you so much for being so understanding, Trella. Safe travels.”

“You two as well,” she said, watching as Saraya picked herself up and pouted at her mother, who pushed her along toward the mess hall. The day was growing later, even if it was impossible to tell while aboard the ship in space, but she understood that sleep patterns and comfort relied heavily on the idea of the day/night cycle that humans had evolved along with. Both Earth and Andlios provided these cycles and humans were very fond of keeping their schedules.

The idea of presenting herself to the captain arose again. It felt like both a good idea and a bad idea, one that she couldn’t know the outcome of until she tried. The favorable outcome would be that the captain would hear her out and decide to ignore anything he may or may not hear about her. The other outcome was that she made his job easier for him in turning her over for a reward if Trallex had posted one. She was able to board the ship, which meant they hadn’t known she had left yet, but after days aboard the ship and her not connecting to the CyNet, there were bound to be red flags raised.

The decision to act was an excruciating one but knowing what she might face felt better than doing nothing at all, so she picked herself up and walked to the front of the ship toward the cockpit. The door to the cockpit was open, with seemingly no security concerns aboard the ship, which meant they weren’t concerned about her, at least. Most passengers would simply stay clear of the cockpit, Trella had guessed, but the three men in the cockpit seemed a bit taken off guard when they turned and saw her.

“Can we help you?” The man in the front left chair turned around to face her while the other two stayed quiet.

“Hello,” she said. “I just wanted to come up and introduce myself.”

“I’m Captain Rush,” he said. “Passengers aren’t allowed in this area.”

“I do apologize. My name is Trella and I just had a few questions for you.”

“So, what can we do for you?” He sat back, folding his arms. “As I said, this area is off-limits to passengers.”

“Well the door was open, so I didn’t think it would be a hassle to introduce myself.”

“Which you’ve done,” he was being difficult. “Now if you don’t mind—”

“I just wanted to assure you that I will be no trouble and that I’m simply a passenger aboard this ship.”

“Oh?” He leaned forward. “Now I’m curious.”

“It’s nothing, really.” She found herself stumbling over her words a bit. “I just… Well, you’ve been to Cyngen. I no longer wish to be there, which is not something a Cydonian would usually ever decide.”

“No, it’s not.” He let out a sigh and scratched at his chin. “I’ve been going back between Helgun and Cyngen for almost twenty cycles now, and have never had a Cydonian passenger. You’re the first, I’ll give you that.”

“There is a first time for everything, then.”

“Looks like it,” he said. “Might I inquire as to why you are leaving Cyngen and implying that you won’t be any trouble? None of the other passengers have come up to us to inform us that they won’t be any trouble.”

“You are clearly a very smart man, Captain Rush.” She was still not good at reading emotions and it was unclear if he was ready to turn her in or if he had other plans for her. “My friend was taken off-planet by a few Cydonians on the same day we departed, with a destination of Andlios. It was possibly against her will and I’m looking for her.”

“That sounds pretty serious.” He scratched his chin, swirling back around to face his panel. “Nobody aboard this tub has been taken against their will, though, I’m afraid. You’ll need to look elsewhere.”

“Oh, I am well aware she is not aboard this ship, I was just—”

“Then I’m not sure why you are bothering us.” He kept facing forward. “Now if you wouldn’t mind, this area is off-limits to passengers.”

“I understand, Captain Rush.” She was unsure of how to take the rejection. “I will leave you to your work, then.”

She turned away and was walking out of the cockpit when she heard one of them mutter under their breath, “Fucking Cymages, huh?” The anger began boiling up inside her, alarms were going off inside of her suit and it took all her willpower to not turn around and do something rash. Somehow she was worse off by going in there than she was just staying in the dark. All she knew now was that they knew she was aboard and that she was acting strange. She also knew that they didn’t seem too fond of Cydonians, which played against her.

The rest of the trip was uneventful, at best. After the awkward run-in with the captain and his crew, everyone had kept their distance from Trella whenever she surfaced from her quarters. She had sat in the common area a few times only for it to clear out. She had never felt more alone in her entire life, something that wouldn’t have bothered her cycles before, but since Alva, things had changed drastically for her. A part of her held out hope to see Saraya and her mother again, but for the remaining two days she did not see them, and she felt contagious to the rest of the ship, like she was carrying a deadly virus.

The announcement had just come over the ship to prepare for entry, which meant being strapped into the crash couches in their personal quarters. Trella had spent good money on this flight, which meant that each individual room had its own crash couch. Most passenger flights had a group of such in a common area, which this one did just in case, but it was all about safety. She figured she’d want the alone time, even if it was during such a tense moment.

Trella slipped into her own quarters from the quiet common area, sat back into her couch and pulled the straps over her shoulders and snapped them into place. She needed a plan to get to Andlios as quickly as possible without drawing attention, but she was going to be a stranger in a strange land, possibly one of the few Cydonians on the entire planet of Helgun.

She took a deep breath and felt the pressure of the crushing gravity pressing her to the couch. Her mind shifted to Alva, dripping with water and toweling herself off after a shower like she did daily and she felt her heart skip a beat. Trella knew that she would do whatever she could just to be with Alva again; it was the only thought that was keeping her going.

016. Security Breach

Jace

Jace was pacing outside the door to his room in the Helgean bunkhouse, knowing that Loren was in there trying to get into contact with O’Neil, but getting nowhere. Katrijn—well, Eja now—didn’t trust Loren. Jace had no real reason to trust this Loren, but he also didn’t have a reason to distrust him, either. That was why Loren was sitting the next room over with his comm gear trying to open a comm link with O’Neil back on Andlios. If Loren was being honest, he was a trained killer and neither one of them would be alive if he wanted them dead, but yet Eja didn’t trust him at all. Jace figured it had to do with all of the running around she did. He couldn’t even imagine what she’d been through since she was forced out of her home.

“He’s lying, you know that.” She sat on the aged wooden bench along the wall with her arms crossed.

“Look, Ka—err Eja.” It was still odd for him to call her that, but he was forcing himself to try to grow comfortable with it. “I know you’ve been hurt by a lot of people, but I don’t think he’s lying. If he was sent to kill you he would’ve killed you already. He’s a capable guy and he saved our lives back there.”

“He was caught by us,” she said.

“Okay, maybe he’s a pretty capable guy then,” he shrugged. “Let’s be honest, though, I think he kind of let us capture him.”

“Why, because I was the one who stopped him?”

“No,” he said, feeling weary from how much she was resisting. “Because he could have killed us from a distance. This town is inside a valley, surrounded by hills, everything is wide open and we haven’t exactly been discreet. He was perched up on one of those hills with a rifle and picked that merc off with ease. Who says he couldn’t have just picked the both of us off?”

“Whatever,” she stood up and kicked on the door gently. “This isn’t the first person I’ve known who has claimed to know my uncle.”

“I’m sure,” he said, “but this guy seems alright, Eja.”

The door creaked open and Loren stood there with his holoscanner in hand, wearing a loopy smile. “So it isn’t your uncle,” he said.

“Then it isn’t good enough,” she said.

“I get that,” he pulled up the projection, “but will Jack Dumas do?”

“What?” she looked back at him, then at the projection of O’Neil’s best friend, Jack Dumas. “Uncle Jack?”

“Yeah, let me just play this back for you.” He set the holoscanner down and played the message.

“Kat,” Jack’s image started with a smile. “These are truly troubling, extraordinary times. Your Uncle Peter has been removed from his position of prime minister by Cronus. There is bad news and good news associated with this. The bad news is that Cronus has dissolved the Senate, removed your uncle and mother from power and sent them away. The good news is that your mother is currently en route to Andal-3 where Hideo and myself are and your uncle is on his way to Helgun. Loren has been working for your uncle for a very long time, you can trust him, although he might be obnoxious…”

“What a prick,” Loren laughed.

“But you can trust him, at least until your uncle arrives on Helgun. Try to stay safe and keep a low profile. Just lay low,” he said before the image dissipated, and Loren snatched up the holoscanner and pocketed it.

“Trust me now?”

“I guess I don’t have a choice,” she said.

“Now it’s all sunshine and sweets, isn’t it?” Loren looked back at Jace, shaking his head, before taking her hand and shaking it. “I’m pleased to meet you, Princess Ka—”

“It’s Eja,” she corrected him.

“Pleased to meet you, Eja,” he said, then turned to Jace. “You are still Jace Krios, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Jace said. “I’m still me, no need for me to change much.”

“Well, it was you I was tracking, so I don’t know,” Loren said. “I didn’t recognize her with all of this,” he motioned with his hand toward her. “But I recognized you.”

“The only person looking for me right now would probably be Jol’or,” Jace said. “I don’t see him wanting to admit that Jace Krios got the slip on him and made him look like a fool, do you?”

“Those were his men I just killed, right?” Loren said. “I dunno if that was it for him or what. Your friend here is pretty valuable, especially for a guy like Jol’or. I’ve been on Cyngen for a few cycles now, and that guy has ambitions far beyond just being the neighborhood creep on Cyngen.”

“Those mercs meant business, didn’t they?”

“You, my friend, are lucky to be alive. They need her, not you.”

“Good point.”

“So we better watch our backs, at least for the time being. Especially you.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time someone came after me.” Jace took a deep breath. “So we are all friends now, right? Shouldn’t we come up with some sort of plan?”

“See, now I like this guy,” Loren said. “Although I don’t know how secure this place is for us to be scheming the fall of an empire.”

“It was good enough for you to play that message out here in the common room,” Eja frowned. “Jace says this place is secure, and he’s the one with friends here so I think we should be listening to him.”

“I trust the monks,” Jace said. “I’ve laid low here for cycles now, whenever I get myself into trouble.”

“Which I can only assume is all the time,” Eja said.

“Very funny. I’m usually not carting around wise-ass royalty. This isn’t just my problem, Princess. I’m here, hell,” he motioned back toward Loren, “we’re here for you.”

“Alright, alright,” she said. “I get it. Loren, how do you know Dumas, anyway?”

“I’ve got family on Andal-3,” he said.

“Isn’t that nice,” she said. “Still doesn’t explain how you know him.”

“Alright, alright. Some might call you annoying, you know that? If the Old Man wasn’t so worried about you, I’d just take off right now.”

“Luckily he is,” she said.

“He is,” he confirmed, sitting back onto a bench. “Alright, so, my ex-wife is out there with my two girls. I served in the military for a while, special ops and, well, things went pretty shitty at one point. Shitty enough to where I was worried about them, or someone trying to use them to get to me.”

“You musta done something pretty awful,” Jace raised his eyebrows.

“Hey man, I had to make a split second decision, you know? Lives on the line, mission on the line and I chose to save my friend, which is when shit went south and, well…needless to say, I was no longer in the military.”

“So you ran?” Eja asked.

“I had no choice, really,” he said. “Started taking jobs wherever I could find them, espionage, deepnet kinda stuff until I ran into your uncle. Hell, he knew all about me. At this point Sera had left me and took the girls with her, told me I had a drinking problem—but I’ll have you know, I haven’t had a drop in over four cycles now, alright? Anyway, yeah, the Old Man found me and let’s just say he persuaded me to work for him. Part of the deal was that he’d find a way to keep Sera, Lorraine, and Patricia safe, so they are on Andal-3 with Jack.”

“That’s quite a story,” Eja said.

“Yeah, it is. Anyway, we are in an unsecured location and I’m still the professional here.” Loren stretched out. “So I’ve gotta check our perimeter and make sure I’ve got some surveillance in place. You know, just in case.”

“Sure,” Jace said. “Do what you’ve gotta do to feel comfortable here, but I’m gonna take a nap.”

Jace retreated back into his quarters and pulled the blinds shut on the window. Loren seemed like an alright guy, he at least told them his story, which set him more at ease and hopefully let Eja calm down a bit. Everything on Helgun was archaic by most Andlios Republic standards, but he kind of liked feeling like he was living in the past, living in simpler times. That immersion was hard to keep with a holoscanner attached to his belt, a pistol in its holster and most of the tech he had laying around broke that illusion, but the little things were still nice.

He had sure gotten himself wrapped up in something strange—something big. He had spent the past few cycles on his own, just a man, his ship and his cargo. That life was pretty simple and kept him from getting tangled up with other people. There were still the contacts he made on each of his routes. Everyone was friendly enough and there were favor exchanges here and there to keep the commerce flowing, but none were really his friends.

In a way that was how he wanted to live his life: simple, and without the complications other people brought into it. The best example could be saving Katrijn. It was a simple act of kindness, one that didn’t even require him to think twice, but now he was on a mission to return her to her home to restore her to the throne of the Andlios Republic so she could dissolve her own role and change the way the Republic worked at its very core. Pretty simple, right? Never mind the fact that her brother had gone completely mad with power and anyone who could have helped them had been basically exiled. This was all a bit too much for him, and he had already reached out to some contacts out toward Gimle to see if he could scoop up any contracts. As soon as he heard back he’d be out of here and let them go and save the universe or whatever they needed to do. They clearly didn’t need his help.

Just as he was beginning to drift off into sleep, his holoscanner chimed. He grumbled while he rolled over and flipped it on, Loren appearing before him. “We got trouble, man.”

“For Freyja’s sake,” he cursed. “What now?”

“Apparently we’ve got a Cydonian planetside, asking after an Andliosian princess.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Loren said. “Collect our princess and meet me by the tavern. I’ve got eyes on the Cydonian now, but make it quick.”

Eja

“I knew this was a terrible idea.” Eja strapped her belt around her waist, ignoring Jace’s attempts to calm her down. “I knew that going with you would just make things worse.”

“You are very welcome,” Jace said. “Next time I find a life pod floating in the middle of nowhere I’ll just leave it.”

“My life would have been infinitely easier, I think.”

“Your life would have been infinitely shorter in that pod. Either by starvation, running out of air or from your brother’s patrols that ran through the area to confirm that you were dead.”

“I could take them,” she said. “What I can’t take is your incessant idiocy! Thanks to your buddy Jol’or I’m worse off than—”

“You didn’t have to come with me!” he said. “I didn’t ask you to come with me to Jol’or’s, you asked! You wanted to come along because you missed your rendezvous and had nothing else to do. Without me you’d just be on Cyngen, probably rotting in a jail cell because you would have carved up Loren when he inevitably found you and wasn’t able to get your uncle to confirm his identity.”

“Whatever.” She pulled her jacket on and zipped it up. “Let’s just go, alright?”

“After you, your highness.” He mock-bowed to her, Eja scoffing and huffing past him and out the door. Jace’s nonchalant attitude was beginning to wear thin on her, that along with the fact that he didn’t seem interested in anything beyond where his next contract came from.

“Which way to the damned tavern? I don’t know where I’m going,” she said.

“You mean your combat training in the palace didn’t cover that?”

“No, it didn’t.” She caught herself starting to sound like her mother when she was on the warpath and felt flush. “I…look, let’s just see what else has gone wrong, okay?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Let’s just go and see what’s up. We might be able to nip this in the bud before it becomes a problem. Plus, you aren’t exactly easy to recognize now and this Cydonian wasn’t asking after me, just you.”

“Okay,” she said. “Really, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“Same here.”

Their walk to the tavern was quiet and tense. Eja felt terrible about her outpouring before, but she was trying not to be too hard on herself. She had never gotten along with her mother that well, seeing as though her mother tended to gravitate toward Cronus. It was difficult not to resent the fact that her family had always been so divided. Those little quirks from her mother that had always made her cringe as a child were becoming increasingly frequent. Here she was in a life-or-death situation and she found herself blowing up at Jace just like her mother had blown up at her father all the time growing up. She never felt particularly linked with her mother, but it was hard to ignore these things she had picked up from her.

Loren was standing outside the tavern with a grim look on his face. “Took you long enough,” he said.

“Sorry, we had to hash some things out,” Jace said.

“Oh yeah?” He looked up at Eja and winked. “Everything good between you two lovers?”

“It’s fine,” she frowned, not having the energy to correct him. “So what’s going on?”

“One Cydonian,” he held up one finger. “Inside the tavern walking around asking if anyone has seen a Krigan princess that was heading toward Andlios and had come from Cyngen.”

“Maybe there is another princess?” Jace joked.

“Jol’or did say something about another princess, remember?” she asked.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Jace said.

“I don’t know any other princess and I’m not about to risk it. Alright, remember how you two cornered me?” Loren looked at both of them. “I don’t know this place for shit, so we’ll have to do the same play you guys tried to use on those goons earlier, you cool with that?”

“I guess so,” she said. “You mean we lead her down an alley and corner her?”

“Pretty much.”

“I thought you were a professional,” Jace said.

“I’ve never been on this shithole before,” Loren shook his head. “Just work with me, alright?”

“We got it,” Jace said. “We’ll be across the street over there,” he pointed to the cabin across from the tavern.

“Good,” Loren headed back into the tavern while Jace and Eja ran across the dirt street and hid behind the cabin.

“I thought this guy was supposed to be well-trained,” Jace joked.

“Give him a break,” she said. “If my uncles trust him then he’s good. He’s just a bit unorthodox is all.”

“Sure,” Jace said, “and I’m the amateur here. Didn’t he just tell us about how he got people killed and botched a mission? I’m not so sure about this. Plus, I thought you didn’t trust him.”

“You were the one who trusted him in the first place,” she grunted. “Show some consistency.”

They waited, Eja’s hand on the hilt of her knife ready to spring into action while Jace kept his hand on his gun, the clip on the holster undone. She thought back to her combat training in the palace; her instructor was an eccentric who had mastered the Zarr’nid knives and was in service to the palace with bright blue eyes and short cropped, wavy black hair. He had trained her to always keep her heart rate under control in situations like this, to control her breathing and to not give off signs of where she was. Going into combat with the Zarr’nid knives against what was most likely a more heavily armed opponent meant that the element of surprise was crucial. Both were ready when they heard voices coming from the alley, one was Loren and the other was distinctly Cydonian—robotic, fuzzy, but oddly saccharine.

“I tracked the princess to this building here,” Loren’s voice rang through the alley. “There’s a door in the back here that we can get in there unnoticed. We’re gonna have to confirm payment on this again, because look, I’ve got mouths to feed.”

“Are you sure about it?” the woman asked. “I already told you I’d pay you as soon as—”

“Stop right there,” Eja jumped out, knife in hand, pinning the Cydonian to the wall.

“What the…” the Cydonian squawked out.

“I’m sorry, doll,” Loren said wistfully.

“Not really,” said Jace, his gun in hand.

“Who sent you?” Eja held the knife up to her throat. “Was it Jol’or or Cronus?”

“Who is Jol’or?” the Cydonian asked, puzzled. “And do you mean Cronus Freeman?”

“Of course I mean Cronus Freeman!”

“No, no,” she said. “Princess Alva is going to take the throne back from him, not work for him.”

“Princess Alva?” Jace scratched his head. “Who?”

“Yeah, who?” Eja lightened her grip. “You weren’t looking for me?”

“I don’t know who you are,” the Cydonian said. “No offense.”

“None taken, I guess,” she relented her grip, sheathing her knife. “Alva?”

“So who sent you, then?” Loren asked, still standing on the other side to ensure that she couldn’t escape.

“Nobody sent me,” the Cydonian buzzed. “I escaped from Cyngen to search for Princess Alva. Trallex was taking her to Andlios and, well…”

“Escaped?” Jace slipped his gun back into his holster, feeling less threatened. “From who?”

“I’d rather not discuss that out in the open like this,” she said.

“Alright, I get it,” Jace said. “So who are you, anyway?”

“I’m Trella,” she said. “I’m just looking for my friend.”

“Since when do Cydonians have friends?”

“That was a part of the problem,” Trella said. “I got too close to her.”

“Here I was thinking that Jol’or was the only weird Cydonian,” Jace said. “Oh, how wrong I was.”

“Who is this other princess, then?” Eja was still trying to process everything.

“Other princess?” Trella asked.

“I mean, who is she?”

“Alva Hedlund,” Trella said. “The daughter of Tyr Hedlund.”

“But she’s dead,” Eja said.

“Not anymore.”

017. Leaving Hope

O’Neil

The journey to Helgun was nothing short of a giant, humiliating pain in the ass. The once-powerful Peter O’Neil was stowed aboard a cargo vessel without any fanfare—not that he wanted it. Everything about the journey reeked of attempting to humble and shame O’Neil, and there were moments where he was beginning to wonder if he should simply resign. There were two stops on smaller moons for refueling and resupplying, most likely a part of Cronus and Giger’s attempt to embarrass O’Neil. While he kept to himself throughout the journey and studied plant life on his new home of Helgun, he vowed to make this the last insult he’d suffer from Cronus. O’Neil no longer cared who Cronus’s father was or protecting the familial line; he had done his duty for many cycles and this was his repayment.

The insults continued when they finally arrived on Cyngen. O’Neil hadn’t expected any sort of grand ceremony or special greeting when he arrived, but he wasn’t expecting for there to be nothing, either. Not a single person, not a single reporter or a single sign was left to signify that someone of his stature was arriving. His itinerary from the palace had claimed he would receive his assignment upon arrival, including where he’d stay and work, but instead, he was standing out in the open air all alone. Helgun was just a dire dustbowl of a planet and he was cut loose without a further word. That meant he’d need to find himself a place to stay and an office on his own. That didn’t really bother him—he still had credits to play around with—but he could just imagine Cronus and Giger laughing like children at how they had made one of the most powerful men in the galaxy feel worthless.

O’Neil took in a deep breath, taking in the crisp air. He did have to admit that it felt nice to be on a relatively undisturbed planet like Helgun. Andlios was beautiful in its own right, but it was wartorn by the time they had arrived and while they had done their best with it, the planet was still a mess. They had missed most of the dark days on Andlios, but the planet was still worse for wear. He was grateful that they hadn’t arrived right after their war, when the sky was black from all of the debris that covered the planet and blocked out the sun. Finding a place to grow his garden in the palace felt miraculous all things considered. According to reports he had read by Sue, Krigar was one of the few cities in that region that possessed fertile soil.

His holoscanner was picking up a signal from the planet’s comm array and he checked it for new messages. There was one from Jack that quickly perked him up: “Loren. Helgun.” Last he had heard from Loren he was indeed heading to Helgun, but the fact that Loren reached out to Jack was peculiar—maybe there was trouble, he wasn’t sure. He sent off a quick reply; “Landed. Will contact.”

Now it was just a matter of tracking down Loren. O’Neil pulled out his holoscanner and sent a quick message off to Loren. “At the port.” He hoped Loren would show up soon, but there was something peaceful about Helgun and the lack of activity that he hadn’t experienced in quite a while. There was a bench out near the front made of what looked like aged oak. O’Neil dusted off the surface and sat back onto it, letting out a deep sigh while staring off into nothing. He was just a man and his thoughts and it hadn’t been that way in quite a while. O’Neil reveled in the simplicity of sitting out on a bench in the open air without worrying about matters of state, life, death or calculating his next move. He knew things wouldn’t stay this simple for long, but for now they were just that: simple.

A light breeze whipped by, reminding him of the now distant hopes and dreams that he had held while floating to Andlios. Andlios was the promise of a new beginning for humanity, it was going to be the place where he settled down in a cabin and got to live a simple life when the reality was just the opposite. Helgun felt closer to that reality than he had imagined, oddly enough. No, Helgun clearly wasn’t the hope for humanity, it was actually a rather barren planet that didn’t offer much in the way of resources. For the Helgeans, though, they seemed happy to just have a place they could call their own, even if most of their precious resources were imported. O’Neil couldn’t help but marvel in how the Helgeans were able to extricate themselves from the political turmoil on Andlios and find themselves this safe haven in the stars. Maybe life on Helgun wouldn’t be as bad as he had imagined—maybe it was time to retire and let the kids play their wargames.

“Well if it isn’t the Old Man,” a voice stirred him from his sea of thoughts. O’Neil turned to see Loren striding toward him. It had been cycles since he had actually seen him in person, but he looked exactly as he had remembered him.

“Loren,” O’Neil stood up, adjusting his shirt and offering his hand.

“Sir.” Loren gave him a firm shake, clasping his other hand over theirs.

“Jack Dumas told me you were here,” he said. “I’m not quite sure why Jack would know that information.”

“Oh, have you walked into quite a party, sir.” Loren wore a broad smile.

“Is she okay?”

“Who? You mean Katrijn?”

“Yes, I want to see her immediately.” He was beginning to feel anxious.

“Oh, she’s better than okay, sir,” Loren said, looking around. “Let’s get back to the monastery and we can all have a nice long talk.”

“Monastery?” He scratched his chin. “I’ll need to set up an official office at some point; their last laugh was not arranging anything for me.”

“For now we are set up in a monastery bunkhouse,” Loren said. “It’s safe; we’ll get you some place of your own soon enough, but we’d better get back there as soon as possible. This planet is so goddamned dark and only gets darker.”

Loren was right, the planet was rather dim; a bit of a strange orange hue hung over the air, making it feel like it was perennially dusk. Andlios had its share of problems, but from the vids and images he had seen, it was closer to Earth than any of the other planets and moons that comprised the Andlios Republic. They walked in silence through what looked like a small town made up entirely of cabins and other wooden structures. The spaceport seemed to be the most modern structure in the entire city. Modern composite materials would have made a lot more sense for a planet with such sparse resources, but the Helgeans had insisted on having full logs imported to Helgun to keep with their traditions. It was important to their culture for the monks to build their own homes and for them as a community to build communal structures. They walked up to one of the larger cabins, Loren dusting his hands off on his pants and clearing his throat. “So this is home.” He rapped on the door three times before it creaked open a crack. “It’s Loren and I’ve got a special guest.”

“Uncle!” A voice came from inside before the door flew open and a girl darted out and quickly affixed herself to him in an embrace. “Uncle, my gods!”

“Whoa there.” O’Neil had to catch himself from falling over before he wrapped his arms back around her, then pulled her back to look at her. “Katrijn? What happened to you?”

“Oh, yeah,” she smiled, a glimpse of the girl he remembered from her youth shone through. She ran her fingers through her hair. “Jace suggested I make some changes, so we did.”

“Those are some changes,” he said. “Gods it’s good to see you.”

“Folks,” Loren’s voice cut through. “It might be best to get inside.”

“Yes, of course,” O’Neil nodded to him, Katrijn taking his hand and leading him into the cabin. The cabin was larger on the inside than he expected, a hearth in the middle and benches lining either side of the walls, only broken up by doors. It was a bunkhouse of some sort. Seated at one of the benches was a Cydonian woman, hands in her lap and a taller, bulkier man was standing with his back against the wall, his foot resting upon the bench next to the Cydonian, trying to look as effortless as possible with his overgrown beard and hair, but O’Neil knew better and knew the type. “There are some new faces in here, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, right,” Katrijn led him toward the bench with the Cydonian and the brute. “You already know Loren, but this is Jace.” She pointed at the man standing by the bench, who nodded to him and jutted his hand out.

“Jace Krios, sir.” His grip was firm—almost too firm.

“Nice to meet you, finally.” O’Neil did his best to return the grip. “I’ve heard a lot about you and I can’t thank you enough for helping Katrijn out like you have, young man.”

“I didn’t really have much of a choice.” Jace scratched behind his ear. “But then again, she helped me out of a few jams as well.”

“That’s how she is,” he said. O’Neil had read the file Loren had sent him on Jace and it seemed mostly accurate, only he was expecting to immediately hate him. Maybe what he had done for Kat had endeared the man to O’Neil already and he just hadn’t realized it.

“This over here is Trella.” She motioned toward the Cydonian, who was sitting by herself.

“Greetings, Prime Minister O’Neil.” She stood up and offered her hand in one fluid motion.

“Thank you.” He took her hand, feeling a pang of regret. “I’m no longer prime minister, though. I guess I’m Steward O’Neil now. You can just call me Peter if you like.” he turned to Loren, who was standing behind him and whispered to him. “Who is this?”

“Uncle,” Katrijn broke in. “Trella has run away from Cyngen and Trallex.”

“It’s always Trallex, isn’t it?” he said. “What did he do now?”

“She’s here looking for her friend, Alva, who Trallex whisked away to Andlios.”

“Alva, eh?” He scratched his chin, thinking back to Tyr Hedlund’s girl who had died right before they were able to send the Fourth Fleet away. “You know, I once knew a girl named Alva a long time ago, she was friends with your father. She stayed in my quarters once, she was a brave girl.”

“We are talking about the same girl,” Trella said.

“No,” he said. “We really aren’t. Alva died years ago. I always felt partially responsible for it—it’s not the kind of weight that ever leaves you, either.”

“I’m sorry to correct you, sir,” Trella said. “But we are speaking of the same person. Trallex brought her body to Cyngen many cycles ago after that incident and she was repaired and revived.”

“No,” he said. “That can’t be. Tyr had mentioned possibly doing that, but he assured us he wouldn’t.”

“I’m not really sure how the decision-making process happened, sir,” Trella said. “But I do know that she was kept there in secret.”

“I want to trust Trallex,” O’Neil was beginning to feel flustered, “but it’s bullshit like this that always comes up with him. There is always a scheme. Gods damnit, Alva is alive and heading back to Andlios. Why?”

“From what we’ve gathered from Trella, nothing good.” Loren sounded defeated. “They are looking to claim the throne from Cronus with Alva.”

“So that is Trallex’s play.” O’Neil felt frustrated that he had given Trallex so much space to operate without oversight. “Loren, you were on Cyngen, how did we not pick up on this?”

“Their security is airtight,” Loren said. “This shit was top secret.”

“So what is our plan here?” He looked around at the group. “There is a play, isn’t there?”

“We were waiting for you,” Jace said. “Katrijn was waiting for you and I was just thinking about taking up a contract out by Gimle or something; I know I can’t stay here.”

“Well.” He pulled his glasses off and rubbed his temples. “It looks like we’ve got some work to do, then.”

Kara

Space travel had left Kara exhausted, to the point where her anxiety had given way to sheer exhaustion. She had met with Jack and Hideo, both of whom were as nice as she had remembered, but she was in no mood to be overly friendly or accommodating. Instead, she headed right for the new quarters that had been prepared for her and fell into the soft bed after clearing the pillows from it. This was not how she imagined her life at this point—Jonah dead, Katrijn off as an outlaw, O’Neil and herself exiled and her son the raving lunatic behind all of it. Yet, that was the reality she found herself in and she felt responsible to clean up the mess.

She felt at ease knowing that O’Neil’s trusted friends were looking over her, but couldn’t help but feel completely out of the loop. She was now the steward to Andal-3, which she wasn’t quite sure what to do with. The title felt merely ornamental and that she was just there to send the occasional report back to Cronus or convey some royal decrees to the locals. Andal-3 was a rather lush, forested moon of the gas giant Andal that they had never gotten around to hashing out an interesting name for and which held very little significance within the Andlios Republic. There were some good resources on the planet, but many found the day/night cycle to be disruptive, never mind the constant threat of torrential storms and the beasts that lived and stalked through the forests. Thus, it was rather forgotten, never even getting a proper name. The name of “Andal-3” just stuck and everyone had agreed that it was too late to worry about a new name at this point. It was close to Andlios’s star, Sowilō, which meant that the days were bright, warm and long, but not uncomfortable. Andal was still within the theoretical “Goldilocks Zone,” meaning not too cold or hot.

When she awoke, the automated blinds on her windows were still up and the room was pitch black. Kara fumbled around for her holoscanner, finding an unusual lack of messages. The steward of Andal-3 wasn’t exactly much of a hands on position, even if she was still technically the empress regent. That was one thing Cronus and that sniveling rodent Giger couldn’t take away from her. She scrolled through and pulled up Jack’s information, quickly calling him. His face appeared on the screen.

“Good afternoon, empress,” he smiled warmly.

“We’re out in the middle of nowhere, Jack,” she said, letting out a yawn while she picked herself up and flicked the controls for the blinds, the light pouring into the room. “Just call me Kara. Has there been any word from Helgun yet?”

“Peter sent a message through,” he said. “It was encrypted pretty heavily and took Hideo a while to crack, but we did. There’s some good news, though: Katrijn is fine.”

“Thank Freyja,” she said. “Anything else from her?”

“There is a lot going on right now with them,” he said. “Let’s meet for dinner here at our place where we can discuss this.”

“Sure.” She stretched out. “I’ll just get myself together and be over soon, then.”

Jack and Hideo’s home was nice by any standards. Like most of the homes on Andal-3, it was built above the treeline to avoid some of the more dangerous local fauna and the wildly unpredictable flash floods that were common on the moon. Their home overlooked one of the larger bodies of water on the moon and was a little ways outside one of the major hubs where Kara was stationed. She felt more comfortable being around people, but if she ever decided she needed to be alone, a home like Jack and Hideo’s would be perfect. Of course, getting herself a home like theirs would be admitting that it was more than a temporary assignment on Andal-3 and that she would most likely live out the rest of her years on this rain-soaked moon.

Her personal transport zipped her over in the late afternoon. Due to Andal-3 being smaller and its rotation, the day and night cycle on the planet was about twice what it was on Andlios. For simplicity’s sake, they treated two days on Andal-3 as one day, so this was the second afternoon of the day. She exited the transport and thanked her attendant, stepping out into the thick, warm air of Andal-3. The air smelled like freshly-fallen rain and condensation seemed to be everywhere, from the deck of their home to the leaves of the surrounding trees. In comparison to the rather uniformity of Krigar and life inside the palace, this felt freeing in many ways.

“Kara!” Jack walked through the glass door with his arms outstretched wearing a pair of jeans and a sweater. It was odd for Kara to see Jack in casual clothing as opposed to the rigid uniforms she had grown accustomed to him wearing.

“Jack,” she smiled at him, taking his embrace. “How nice to see you again! Where is Hideo?”

“Oh, he’s inside. Everyone thinks Hideo is this quiet, well-mannered guy but when he’s cooking dinner he can be kind of a tyrant,” Jack smiled at her, motioning for her to follow him in. “Sorry, wrong choice of words there.”

“Oh please,” she said. “I’d never have known that about him, though.”

“Are you kidding me?” Jack shook his head. “Everyone thought I was the one who pursued a relationship with him, but it was Hideo who did most of the pushing; I was just along for the ride.”

“See, you learn something new every day.”

“That you do, let’s go inside, though,” he said. “It’s nice out now, but there was just a downpour about twenty minutes ago. We love the view here, but sadly the rain is always so unpredictable.”

“Or you just aren’t paying close enough attention to the weather,” she jested.

“Or that, yeah,” he smiled warmly at her as they walked into the neatly decorated home. “It’s a lot of hard work out here on Andal-3, in fact, we are very glad you will be here to assist us, although we wish it was under better circumstances.”

“Me as well.” She took in the surroundings and the almost cold precision of the decor before she saw Hideo emerge from the kitchen, rubbing his hands on a towel before slinging it over his shoulder. “Well, if it isn’t Hideo himself.”

“Kara.” He walked over and squeezed her tightly. “How nice to see you.”

“Gods, Hideo,” she laughed after he let go. “You look like you haven’t aged at all.”

“Look at you, though,” he shook his head. “I don’t want to hear this coming from you.”

“We were actually just talking about you,” she said.

“Oh?” He turned to Jack. “I hope it was all good.”

“I was just telling her about how you chased me and wore me down until I’d go out with you,” Jack said.

“Everyone was so afraid of you, you didn’t even know how to handle someone being so direct with you,” Hideo added.

“So Hideo,” Kara took a whiff of the air. “What’s for dinner, it smells fantastic.”

“Hideo is cooking up some exotic local birds,” Jack said, opening up their liquor cabinet. “Would you like some wine?”

“Of course, it all sounds wonderful,” she smiled and sat down on a white leather couch. “A white wine would be excellent.”

“Sure, I’ve got just the thing,” he said.

“Anyway, excuse me for being forward, but I’m getting a bit anxious about why you wanted me here…”

“Right to business,” Hideo shook his head. “It’s not every day I get to cook for royalty, but anyway, Jack, tell her.”

“I already told her that Katrijn was fine, Hideo.”

“No,” he shook his head. “The rest.”

“The rest?” Her interest was piqued immediately. “Do tell.”

“Oh, that,” Jack shook his head. “You aren’t going to believe this. They are planning on heading back to Andlios.”

“Why?” She couldn’t help but laugh.

“To take the throne back.”

018. Home Again

Alva

They had landed in a small private spaceport just on the outskirts of Krigar—at least that was what Trallex told her. This didn’t look like the Krigar she knew. The facility was clean, barren and manned entirely by Cydonians, which was not how she remembered Krigar at all. To Alva it felt like she had never left Cyngen, just boarded a plane and hurtled through the expanse of space only to find herself back in the same place again. Trallex was immersed in thought while the cargo was unloaded and Alva made her way for the small white impression on the wall that she knew served as a door. There were no controls, which made her sigh deeply, close her eyes and turn on her CyNet implants.

A jolt of electricity ran through her body, the displays filling her vision and the sound of millions of voices raced through her mind. She remembered her training, remembered what Trallex had told her and took a series of deep breaths, the cool, filtered air moving in and out of her lungs. The information began to filter, and she was able to block out anything beyond the room with great concentration. The voices trailed off and soon it was just Alva, feeling like she was trapped inside a hermetically sealed box with just her own mind. Her eyes illuminated the door in front of her, triggering it to slide open for her without her having to raise her hand or do much more than imagine the door opening. She stepped out into the sticky Krigan afternoon, leaning up against a composite railing that overlooked a small garden. The gardenias were in bloom, bringing her back to her youth when she’d traipse through the gardens in the palace without a care in the world. Now she was staring at the gardenias and the display in her head told her the genus, diameter, and history of the plant. Andlios felt less magical and more overwhelming and alien than it ever did before.

I see that you turned on your CyNet, Trallex’s voice came through her mind.

Yeah, she said, lips still moving, much to her embarrassment.

You are home, Princess Alva. What you do with it is up to you.

What do you mean? She felt a wave of anxiety run through her.

I know that it makes you feel uneasy, but my job was to teach you the ways, to understand that while we are different, we all want the same thing. You are a bridge, Princess Alva, and I cannot influence what you do from here.

Can you at least point me in the right direction? she asked. Alva was aware that they were able to detect each other’s emotional state while connected. Trallex’s state was jumbled, though, incoherent to her.

There is an unmarked transport sitting out in front. It is biolinked to you. I have also reserved a room for you to stay in, which I have transmitted the details to you as well. What you do now is up to you.

I’m not ready for this.

No one is ever ready, Princess Alva.

Where do I go?

That is not up to me. I recommend somewhere that attracts your people, to start.

I haven’t been back here since I was a child, Trallex. You know that, what do I know about my people?

That is for you to work out.

There was never a goodbye with Trallex, never anything above and beyond what was necessary for a conversation. Just like that she was on her own on a planet that should have felt like home to her, but was instead full of complicated, difficult memories of a time long past. She took in one last deep breath of the fresh flowers and pushed herself off the railing and moved toward the front of the building. From the outside it was indiscreet, just another large, ominous, unmarked warehouse in what looked to be a small sea of them out on the edge of town. This one, unlike most of the rest, was in good condition. A small white transport sat waiting for her out in front. There was little in the way of decoration on it, it was just a ground car without much in the way of frills to it. Her display locked onto the door, and it glided gently open for her while the black leather seat invited her in.

Alva settled into the seat of the car, letting it envelop her while the door slid shut, leaving her on her own in Krigar. Krigar was a huge bustling city and she had no clue where to start. She quietly studied a map of Krigar and was looking for anything to give her a sign of where to go. There had to be a clue somewhere as to where she could look. Trying to narrow down Krigan spots in Krigar didn’t do her much good, which led her to check through news displays of the past few months, looking for anything. Cronus’s birthday was approaching and seemed to be one of the bigger topics, as was talk of the dissolution of the Senate and installing a stewardship system for each planet. Trallex had mentioned in passing that he was now the steward of Cyngen, but that his role hadn't changed much, nor would they pay too close of attention to what was happening on Cyngen.

Events on Krigar over the past few months were confusing in a number of ways. There was the chatter of organized uprising movements—labeled terrorist cells—throughout the city, which quickly caught her attention. News clippings and vids were sparse on these events, but eventually, she was able to narrow down to one of the purported leaders of said movement. She enhanced the video, which filled her field of vision and began playing, showing a group of Krigan men and women smashing up a building, flames engulfing it before a strong brute of a man emerged, arms outstretched and a pulseaxe in his strong hands shouting out “Down with Cronus!” Her heart skipped a beat, quickly pausing it on that image. The man was older but strong looking, and gray streaks littered his otherwise red hair and beard, and a scar ran along the side of his face to show his eye was sewn shut.

“Oystein,” she muttered under her breath. It had been many cycles since she had seen her father’s friend and protector, but his face was unmistakable to her. That was Oystein and he was right at the heart of the Krigan uprising. Now all she needed to do was to find Oystein. The only thought that crossed her mind was to find a place where Krigans were congregating. Much had changed since her time on Andlios, but she doubted that Krigan bars had become any less of a breeding ground for proud Krigans to beat their chests and drunkenly brawl with each other to prove their honor.

Her first destination was clear to her in an instant. She would head for the Quorthon, the old Krigan bar in a run-down district of the city that was nearby. The Quorthon was the kind of place of legend, named after the old Jarl of Krigar during the initial Cydonian uprising. That bar symbolized everything about stubborn Krigan ways and would be a place where she could at least find some information on where to look further. The transport had already begun moving in the direction of the Quorton, and Alva forgot that she still had her CyNet activated and that her car was linked in with her. The streets were growing more and more populated as she moved deeper into the heart of the city. The bar was still on the outskirts of town but there were at least people there as opposed to in that old industrial district where the Cydonian landing pad was located. This was her city, she reminded herself, this was the heart of her people.

The transport began slowing down as the traffic and density of pedestrians amplified the closer she got to the bar. The Quorthon was teeming with life, Krigans coming and going like it was a busy anthill. Alva parked across the street in a nearby empty spot while a band of younger Krigans walked by shouting obscenities at her. She did her best to ignore them while she reached for her pulseaxe and strapped it to her back and checked the charge on the gun holstered on her hip. The last thing she wanted was to walk into a place like this without being prepared.

Alva crossed her arms and strode forward toward the warm glow of the neon light for the bar, grabbing onto the cold metal handle and pulling the door open. The smell of stale beer and sweat rushed out from the door along with the sound of traditional Krigan music and chatter. It was exactly what she would have expected a Krigan bar to be like: dark, dingy, and full of brutes shouting and posturing over each other. There was a lot of hair, sweat, and testosterone in the air of the Quorthon—it was the perfect place for a revolution to brew. Most would feel uncomfortable there, but to her, it reminded her of home, it reminded her of the time she spent in the stronghold with her father, his warband and Ingen.

“Well, mercy be to Freyja,” the barkeep barked at her. “If I haven’t died and gone to Valhalla, I’ve seen an angel.”

“I’m sure you have.” She sat down on a stool, leaving her pulseaxe strapped to her back. “That’d make two of us.”

“Ha!” He let out a mighty roar that broke through the music and the chatter. “So what’ll it be?”

“Just a beer.” She rapped her fingers nervously on the bar. “You choose, I haven’t been on Andlios in a while.”

“Of course, smart woman,” he said, grabbing a glass and pouring a beer from the tap, swiping off the foam with a stick before slapping the mug down onto the bar. “Off-planet, eh?”

“Just around.” She took the mug in her hand and took a big gulp. It was bitter but sweet, accentuated by the distinct taste of honey—like home. “Came back to find my home quite a mess, actually. Can’t believe what they’ve done to it.”

“Aye,” he said, picking up a mug and wiping it with a towel. “You wouldn’t be the first, my dear. You’ve come to the right place here. A place of like-minded individuals, you might say. Talk like that in the street will see you hung.”

“Hung?” She almost choked, letting out a cough to clear her throat. “Are you fucking kidding me? They have stooped that low?”

“Stooped? Ha,” he said.

“Why isn’t anyone doing anything about it?”

“Who’s to say they aren’t?”

“Well, I’d like to meet someone who is doing something,” she said.

“You aren’t the only one who’s come in here asking questions, girlio.” He pretended to be preoccupied with cleaning a mug. “I’m not sure I can help you with that.”

“What if I told you I was looking for someone?” There was a readout on the bartender telling her that he was growing nervous. She didn’t need the CyNet readout to tell her that, though, he was wearing it plainly on his face. “This seems like the place to go to get involved, I’d say.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“I think you do.” She traced her finger along the rim of the mug. “I’m looking for Oystein.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that.” He glanced nervously toward the back of the bar where there were two armed guards in front of a door. “I don’t know any Oystein, lady, I’m sorry.”

“Wait,” she called after him but he scurried away from her toward other patrons. She looked back toward the door he had glanced at and did a quick scan. It was probably about time she took full advantage of all of the modifications that had been done to her, anyway, and being able to look for heat signatures was valuable. There were the two guards, obviously, but there was a larger signature coming from the other side of the door.

Alva picked herself up and strode toward the door, working her way past the drunken Krigans at the bar who were staring at her or making lewd gestures. There would be time for them later, she told herself. She was alone in a strange place and as much as she didn’t want to admit it, she was scared. If there was something she could do to take control she had to do it and now seemed like as good of a time as ever. The barkeep looked up and saw her heading toward the door. “Hey, where you are going?”

“Just checking something out,” she muttered.

“You can’t go back there!” he shouted, looking at the guards. “Johnny, Blake, she’s heading back there, you gotta stop her!”

Both had their pulseaxes at the ready, and Alva began to unhitch hers from her back before stopping herself. Bashing both of their skulls in felt like the right move, but it would not be a great way to start off a relationship with the Krigan resistance movement. “I need to see him,” she said.

“See who?” the one on the right asked.

“You know who I’m talking about. He’ll want to see me.”

“Of course he will,” the one on the left said. “But you aren’t his usual piece of tail.”

“I’m not his piece of tail, you moron,” she said.

“Then why should we let you in?”

“Because I’m Alva Hedlund and I’m back from the dead.”

“That’s rich,” the right one said, laughing to the other one.

“Yeah, it’s like—”

Alva had seen enough, and she reared back with her right arm, delivering a swift punch to the jaw of the one on her right, which sent him reeling, his pulseaxe falling to the ground while the left one quickly covered up. She moved quickly, gripping on to the top of his head and driving her knee up toward his face, and he collapsed in a heap on the ground. There was commotion all around her now, and she could hear the barkeep shouting at her to stop but she was focused on the door. She pulled her boot up and drove it into a weak point on the door near the knob, and the door burst open as an older brute of a man sat behind a desk looking alarmed.

“Who the fuck thinks they can disturb me like this?” he called out.

“I did,” Alva stood in the doorway, looking down at him.

“And who the fuck are you, sweetheart?”

“I’m your niece and I’m back from the dead.”

“Gods,” he muttered. “Alva?”

Trella

There had been stories about the Old Man all throughout the Andlios Republic, but mostly he was a figure of legend. Trallex served a similar role for the Cydonians, but she had spent most of her life around Trallex, making his presence that less special and fearsome. Even though he was Cydonian, he was still at his core human with his own quirks. Peter O’Neil, though, was a mystery. There were vids made about him and his heroics, and his romantic dealings with an Earther scientist were publicized and over-dramatized in all of these vids. O’Neil was a bonafide celebrity on top of being a historic figure, which made him seem out of place within this context.

Awe wasn’t the correct term for how she felt to be in his presence, but instead, it felt closer to respect. He had been the most powerful man aboard the Omega Destiny and was happy to throw it away and move into the shadows, to let Jonah Freeman be the emperor, even if O’Neil had the better credentials. Even in his advanced age, there was something about the man that she found difficult to explain.

The younger man, Jace, had kept a close eye on her. She wasn’t sure if it was out of distrust or simply concern. From what she understood, he had experience dealing with Cydonians before and he possibly saw some differences between her and the rest. That made her feel exposed and slightly bashful around him, because he knew something was going on with her beyond what she had let on. He sat down next to her while Katrijn Freeman sat with her uncle and uncle’s agent and drummed his hands on the bench in front of him.

“They are kind of cute together, aren’t they?” Jace said.

“I guess so,” she said, unsure of how to react. “From what I understand they have always been close and she was reported to be deceased.”

“She would have been,” he said, “if I hadn’t found her lifepod before Cronus’s goons did.”

“It is a good thing you did, then.”

“Yeah,” he was clearly distracted. “So what about you, huh? I’ve known my share of Cydonians and while you are no Jol’or or anything, breaking protocol as you did is pretty nuts. I thought you were all connected via some net and knew every passing thought.”

“I did what I had to do,” she said. “I’m concerned about Alva.”

“That is what gets me. As I said, I’ve known Cydonians most of my life and their concern with human life—or even each other—doesn’t seem to be that great. You guys live for a damned long time due to the augmentations or whatever, so life and death don’t seem to be your concern, but here you are, concerned about Alva Hedlund. I just never got much of an impression that the individual mattered much.”

“I suppose it is a bit strange,” she acknowledged. “I cared from her from the moment we revived her until days before she left the planet. Nobody knows Princess Alva like I do.”

“But that information, all of that stuff you learned about her, that was probably passed onto whomever they stuck with her back on Andlios, right?”

“That is correct.”

“Then why do you care?”

“I…” Trella paused, legitimately unsure of how to answer the question. “I don’t know.”

“What?” He shook his head. “That is not something that I ever, ever imagined I’d hear a Cymage say when it came to relating to another person. Bullshit, I call bullshit on this.”

“Excuse me?” She was finding herself tripping over her thoughts.

“It’s bullshit.” He was tapping his fingers on the table next to them in a broken rhythm. “There’s something weird here. We both know it, that’s what brought you out here; something is broken, at least in a Cymage kind of way.”

“Mr. Krios,” she said. “I would prefer it if you didn’t use that term.”

“I know you guys hate that,” he said. “I’m just trying to get a rise out of you, which I am. You have feelings for her, don’t you?”

“I’m not sure what you are implying, Mr. Krios.”

“You know,” he gestured toward her. “Like love?”

“Love?” The word sent a tingle running through her body.

“See, I saw something there,” he slapped his hand down on the bench and sprung up. “That pause, the intonation of your voice. You were just a little bit different. You have feelings for this Alva, that is why you are out here—on your own—looking for her. You don’t belong out here, hell, I doubt you’ve ever been far from Cyngen. You’d never break from Cydonians like this unless she meant something to you. They didn’t want you by her anymore, but you couldn’t handle it.”

“Mr. Krios, I’m not sure what you are talking about.”

“You can feel it.” He held his hand toward his chest. “It’s burning inside you, but it goes against your programming. You aren’t a robot, none of you are, you just want to act as you’ve evolved past all of this bullshit, but you haven’t. You are just as human as the rest of us. They saw that as a weakness, didn’t they?”

“I’m not…”

“Didn’t they?”

“Yes,” she said. “They saw it as a weakness and wanted me to be rehabilitated away from her. That is fine, I’m not concerned with what happens to me. They can wipe my memories if they see fit, recondition me or even terminate me, but my lone concern is what happens to Alva.”

“My gods,” he muttered. “That’s beautiful.”

“I just want her to be alright, Mr. Krios.”

“Look.” He sat back down and lowered his voice. “Apparently I have to drop this lot off on Andlios on my way out to Gimle. I’m not sure I have much of a role to play in their little conspiracy they are concocting right now. I have my own unfinished business back on Andlios, but it’s with Katrjin’s brother. I kind of feel like everyone else does as well, so I’m probably at the back of the line since I’m not trying to dethrone him or take over the known universe. Seeing how you feel about this Alva has kinda hit me, though. So, I’ll do what I can to help you find this Alva again when we are there. I lost someone important to me a few cycles ago and I know how it feels. I can’t get her back, but if I can help you get your Alva back, well, I’ll feel a little bit better about this fucked up galaxy of ours. After that, I can go on my way. But regardless of what any of them have to say, you are coming with us.”

“Mr. Krios, I’m not sure what to say, I just—”

“It’s Jace, alright?”

“Yes, Jace,” she said, making a mental note to try her best to call him by his first name, not family name. “Thank you.”

019. Homeward Bound

Jace

Ever since the death of Ro and Jace’s subsequent departure from Andlios he had spent the entirety of his life avoiding everything and anything related to the Andlios Republic. When the plan to return Katrijn and the Old Man back to the planet was being concocted, Jace had done his best to stay disconnected from the conversation until their desire to use the Pequod complicated things for him. There was a good chance that Jace was playing a vital role in the disposing of Cronus Freeman from his throne, which he was conflicted about. Playing a part like that in something that would go down in history felt huge to him; it should have felt cathartic, but instead all he could think of was his vow to never go back home again. He never wanted to return to Andlios and had agreed to drop them off there, but not to hang around on the planet. That was the compromise he made in his head, at least.

The monastery had begun to feel less than adequate for planning the deposing of Cronus Freeman after the addition of Trella and O’Neil to their ranks. It was an eclectic mix by any standards and it felt especially crowded after spending so many cycles aboard the Pequod on his own making runs between planets, moons and stations on the fringes. The monastery was mostly empty; it was one of the newer buildings on Helgun, which meant there were open rooms and that the extra guests weren’t a huge deal, but Jace couldn’t help but feel he was overstaying his welcome.

This was one of the few places he had used to hide out in on Helgun whenever he had trouble, but it was beginning to feel like the last time he’d be able to hide out there. Jol’or’s mercs were able to track him there and while he was able to thwart Jol’or twice now, there was still that lingering fear that he’d keep coming. Everything about this situation was more severe than the jams he had gotten himself into before. Laying low for a week on Helgun might’ve worked when a shipping magistrate got upset at a delay or Republic security came close to catching him avoiding a checkpoint, but harboring insurrectionists? That was new, even for Jace. He still appreciated the gesture, obviously, but was starting to feel regret for getting himself into the situation he was in. It was late into one of the long Helgun days, the already dim sunlight growing dimmer when he went outside and sat down on a bench, staring up at the stars.

“Hey,” he heard Katrijn’s voice behind him, the door to the cabin swinging shut behind her.

“Hey,” he said without turning around.

“Nice night, huh?” she said quietly.

“Sure is.”

“Can I join you?”

“Yeah, why not?” He turned to see her in just a pair of shorts and a tank top, looking at ease for once. Jace tried to ignore how beautiful she looked while he motioned for her to sit down. Jace had done his best to stay out of the way over the past few days, which had in fact helped him bond with the Cymage, Trella, but it had left him feeling a bit unwelcome. He had only known Katrijn for a brief period of time, but they had built up a rapport together that at least made Jace feel like they had bonded somewhat. As soon as the Old Man came into town, though, most of that melted away into cold indifference. He had to admit that it stung.

“Thanks.” She sat down and pulled her knees in tight, her bare feet resting on the bench. “It’s really been pretty crazy since my uncle showed up recently.”

“It sure has,” Jace said, leaning back against the cabin, feeling the logs dig into his back and his aching ribs. “But he seems like an alright guy, nothing like the stories I’ve heard at least.”

“He really does have a reputation, doesn’t he?” she laughed.

“You don’t get to be one of the most powerful men in the known universe without some people fearing and hating you, I’d say. He’s probably one of the most—if not the most—powerful men there is.”

“That’s not entirely true,” she corrected him. “If he was then he’d still be on Andlios doing whatever he did behind the scenes. Instead he’s here.”

“I guess I hadn’t thought of it that way,” he said. “I’m still shocked that nobody has checked up on him yet, you know, tried to make things look official and not like he was being exiled.”

“They didn’t even find an office for him. He’s trying to hide it, but it has really been bothering him. My brother isn’t exactly subtle, you know. Cronus wasn’t even his real name, he changed it. His name is Kir.”

“I’m well aware,” he gritted his teeth at the thought of his wife and her fate at Cronus’s hands.

“Oh, right,” Katrijn bit her bottom lip. “I’m sorry, Jace. You know that I—”

“It’s fine,” he said, “let’s just drop it, okay?”

“Yeah, I can do that.”

“Thanks.” He fidgeted with his hands, running his left index finger along his palm nervously.

“I should be thanking you, actually.”

“Oh?”

“We’ve intruded on you quite a bit now. In fact, I’ve intruded the most, I’d say. I appreciate it, though.”

“It’s no big deal, really.”

“But it is.” She reached out and grabbed ahold of his hand, and an immediate jolt of lightning ran through his body. “Look, I know this isn’t all easy, but my life pod was out there and you chose to pick me up. You could have just dumped me at Cyngen or worse, you could have turned me in for a reward that would keep you happy for the rest of your life. Instead, you chose to keep helping me.”

“I wasn’t looking for a reward,” he said. “You should know that by now. After Ro died, I was paid off, and didn’t really know what else to do so I took the money and I haven’t been able to live with myself ever since. I’m just happy to be able to stick it to your brother, even if it is just something small.”

“You’ve done a lot more than something small, I’d say.”

“Probably.”

“You are a good friend, Jace,” she was looking at him, but he was just staring down at her hand clutching onto his, trying not to make eye contact and show the tears that were welling up in his eyes. “I’ll never forget that, nor will my uncle or anyone else. I know it’s been kind of weird since my uncle showed up, that we’ve been kind of secretive and I’m sorry about that, it’s just what we are used to is all, we aren’t trying to exclude anyone. Especially you.”

“No, I get it, I really do,” he said. “We’re from different worlds and all, I don’t really have experience with matters of such gravity. I’m just a guy who makes delivery runs on the fringes, after all.”

“We all have our role to play in this, Jace, and yours is pretty important.”

“Hey, you know,” he said, still not making eye contact, “I’m sure it is.”

“It is. Really.”

“Yep.” He was starting to feel irritated at her trying to placate him this much.

“Are you going to be alright with going back to Andlios? I know you haven’t exactly been back there since Ro and all…”

“It’ll be fine,” he lied, doing his best to keep his composure. “I haven’t been back since, but you need a way to get back there and I’m here, so I’m willing to help. I don’t think there is any other way available right now.”

“Not that we’ve seen, no,” she said. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but we really do need you to take us in the Pequod. We can get a contract in place and we’ll have to make sure that your registration papers are in order and everything, but really, you don’t have much of a profile in the core and we need that.”

“I’m glad I can be of use, then,” he quipped, starting to feel agitated.

“Jace,” she tightly gripped his hand, “it’s not like that.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it’s not.” He picked himself up and stretched out, letting her hand fall out of his. “But really, I think I need some rest before we head out. Is the Old Man having the ship fueled up right now?”

“You know he hates that name,” she said, “but yes, it should be all ready to go for our departure tomorrow morning.”

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll have enough to get me to Gimle after, right?”

“I suppose so,” she said. “If not, I can make sure that uncle leaves you enough credits to get there.”

“Yeah,” he nodded absently. “Thanks.”

“Although, look, you don’t have to go right away.”

“We’ll see, alright?”

“Sure.”

“It’ll actually be pretty weird,” he said, staring off at the setting sun.

“What will?”

“I’ve never had more than two people aboard the Pequod before.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Pretty funny, right? It’s not a huge ship, but it can easily house ten people with everyone getting their own quarters and not bumping into each other.”

“You are a strange man, you know that?”

“I guess so, yeah,” he gave her a nod and walked back into the cabin, heading for his bunk so he could be alone.

Katrijn

When alone with her thoughts it was difficult for Katrijn not to admit to herself that she wasn’t ready. She wasn’t ready to return to Andlios after cycles of exile, she wasn’t ready to walk through the palace she grew up in, or to face her brother who had murdered their father and left the entire Republic in shambles. Katrijn just wasn’t ready. The thought pained her to admit it, especially after seeing how unready Jace was to return home also, and how she had to convince him to go. He was being difficult and insisting that he leave almost immediately, which she wasn’t sure was his fight-or-flight instincts or simply not feeling comfortable being a part of their group.

She couldn’t help feeling like a liar for projecting a confident image to him while she herself felt her stomach being tied up in knots. It was what she had to do, she told herself. They knew they could trust Jace, that he understood and sympathized with their cause. That made him valuable. They weren’t going to find another pilot on short notice who they would be able to trust to the same extent that they could trust Jace, so it was him or nothing. Loren and her uncle were making the final preparations while Katrijn found herself sitting in the cockpit of the Pequod, sitting on the floor, sifting through Jace’s old book collection and placing them on the shelf against the wall in alphabetic order by author’s last name. It was more a task to keep herself busy than anything else, seeing as though the bulk of her work would need to be done when they landed in Krigar.

For a man without a ton of money, he had sure amassed quite a collection of books, she thought to herself, remembering back to her father and his own library. While he had grown up well beyond the age of the printed book, he still chose to gather as many as he could, and he explained to her how valuable they were throughout his lifetime on the Omega Destiny. He’d spend hours explaining the history of certain books, of the authors and sometimes even read from them before returning them to the shelves and instructing her not to touch them. She had snuck into his library many times and thumbed through the old—sometimes ancient—books, not able to feel the magic that her father told her resided inside of them, which had always disappointed her. She understood now, though. They meant something to him, much like these books meant something to Jace and all of those old artifacts meant something to Jol’or back on Cyngen.

“What are you doing with my stuff?” Jace strode into the cockpit, still wearing his boots, which seemed odd considering how he preferred to walk around the ship barefoot usually.

“Just making myself useful, I guess,” she shrugged.

“You’re a princess,” he said. “You don’t have to be useful.”

“So they say.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just not comfortable with people touching my stuff is all, or just not used to it.”

“Sorry. I can stop.”

“I’ll get over it,” he said, settling in behind the control panel, fiddling with the controls. “Ro used to straighten up my stuff, it’s just weird seeing someone else doing it. Plus, with your hair and all of that now, well, you know…”

“Oh, right.” She reached up and felt her hair; it still felt alien to her for it to be as short as it was. “It was your idea.”

“I’m a very stupid man, Katrijn,” he said. “You’ve been with me for long enough to understand that by now, I think.”

“How many stops are we looking at?” She picked herself up off of the floor and slid into the co-pilot’s chair.

“None,” he looked at her and raised his eyebrows, feigning shock.

“That won’t raise any red flags?”

“It was your uncle’s idea, so no.”

“So it’ll just be a straight shot, then?”

“Helgun to Andlios,” he said. “Enough fuel to make it and more to spare, and it’s back to a place I swore I’d never set foot on again. The contract he drew up is legitimate, so there shouldn’t be any questions.”

“I know you aren’t feeling great about it.” She pulled her left knee up toward her and hugged it to her chest. “But you should know I’m not feeling that great about it, either.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” She tucked her hair behind her right ear. “A lot of memories down there, you know? You weren’t the only one who lost someone on Andlios. This isn’t going to be easy for either of us, but we’ve worked well together thus far, and I don’t see this being any different.”

“Yeah, I guess we have.”

“You picked me up,” she said, “now you are stuck with me, like it or not.”

“I’m not complaining,” he said. “In fact, I kind of welcome it. I’d been flying solo for too long and had kind of shut everything else out for a while. I was just…hurt, you know? I was angry and didn’t know what else to do. It’s a hard lesson to learn, but you can’t bring anyone back from the dead, especially those you love.”

“That doesn’t seem entirely true, though.” She tried to imagine what Alva Hedlund looked like, what the girl her father had felt so strongly about was like, but was drawing a blank. “Just like I’m not the only disposed princess, apparently.”

“Good point. I don’t even know if I want to touch that one. I have no problems with the Cymages, I deal with ‘em all the time and they are by and large decent folk, but this matter of bringing someone back to life? I guess I knew they had the ability, but never knew they actually did it.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

They both fell silent for a while, Jace burying himself into the controls and flight calculations, which Katrijn was sure he didn’t need to be that engrossed in, but was just trying to drop the whole subject. A part of her had always wanted to meet Alva Hedlund, whom her father had always referred to as his little sister. Growing up, it felt like she was partially in the shadow of the dead girl, even if her father had done his best to mask the sorrow he felt over her loss. He had told Katrijn that she reminded him of Alva, having that same free spirit and toughness to her that most girls in their position wouldn’t. That led to her feeling like Alva was a kindred spirit of sorts, but it was also easier to reconcile with Alva being “that dead girl” as opposed to the reanimated corpse trying to kill her brother before she could get to him herself.

“So if you could, would you?” She let the question hang in the air, knowing that it came out vague, but she was almost afraid of asking the question directly.

“What?” He wasn’t going to let her off that easily.

“If you could bring her back…”

“Oh.” He paused, no longer paying attention to the console and instead found himself staring off into the display, lost in thought. “I really don’t know. I mean, she died and that has been difficult enough to deal with, but the idea of being able to bring her back after she died? What if she had to live the rest of her life with those crazy Cymage augmentations, with machines keeping her alive, all the while remembering her final moments? She wasn’t anybody special, you know? She wasn’t a head of state, she wasn’t rich, she wasn’t a princess or anything, but she was the only woman I ever loved. She put up with me, she helped to make me better; I don’t know. Fuck. She deserved better than the hand she was dealt, but I’m not sure it would be much of a life at all.”

“Yeah.”

“What about you?”

“What?”

“If you could bring your father back, would you?”

“I’m not sure he would have wanted it that way at all. He wasn’t against the technology of the Cydonians or anything, but he was fascinated with the lower tech end of life more than he was the glitz and glamour that came with the latest and greatest. He never even flew in a ship with a HyperMass drive, believe it or not.”

“Really?” Jace laughed. “Shit, he was the emperor!”

“I know, but he was just old fashioned. But as to if I’d bring him back? I don’t think he’d want that; in fact, in a way I think he wanted to die if that makes any sense.”

“Not really, no.”

“He never wanted the Andlios Republic, he never wanted to be an emperor, it was just a calculation they all made and he was the one who they thought could rally people behind him. Maybe he’d want to be brought back, only not as Emperor Jonah Freeman but just Ingen and live out his life as a regular father and husband. That being said, I’m scared to death about all of this, about my responsibility and what I have to do when we get back to Andlios and I sure would love for him to be back to handle it instead of me. I know that might sound selfish, but it’s the truth.”

020. Calculated Risks

O’Neil

The Pequod was nothing like the ships O’Neil was used to—it was small, cramped, old and not very comfortable. In a way, though, that is what made the whole thing more likely to work. No one would be looking for O’Neil and Katrijn aboard a ship like the Pequod. He was, at one time, the prime minister and both revered and reviled as one of the most powerful men in the known universe. When Peter O’Neil went somewhere, it was subtle but still a show of force to merit his position and power, which was in part why he employed so many covert agents. Loren was at one time one of these covert agents, but now he sat across from O’Neil in the common room of the Pequod dealing a deck of cards.

“C’mon, Old Man,” Loren shot him a mischievous smile. “You may be one of the most powerful men in the ‘verse, but I bet you can’t beat me at poker.”

“Of all the stupid things that have endured throughout humanity,” O’Neil hefted out a sigh while he leaned over and picked up his cards, ”somehow poker has endured.”

“That’s a defeatist attitude if I’ve ever heard one,” Loren turned to Trella who was sitting quietly staring at her hand. “How about you, Cystrange, we good with the rules?”

“Yes, Mr. Jones.” She kept studying her cards. O’Neil could only imagine what kind of data she had buzzing through her, which would make this game just meant to pass the time turn into one big headache.

“Alright, alright,” he held his hands up as if he was being accused of something. “I’m just lookin’ out, I know they don’t exactly play games on Cyngen or anything.”

“We have an extensive knowledge of human history, Mr. Jones, including games such as these.”

“You know,” Loren shook his head, “O’Neil and I aren’t jacked into any computers here, is this gonna be a fair fight or are you just going to make fools of us?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” she said in her same flat tone, although O’Neil swore he could hear some snark bleeding through.

“Well damn,” Loren slapped her knee, “this Cystrange has some spirit in ‘er!”

“She sure does,” O’Neil said.

Since he had arrived on Helgun, O’Neil had done his best to warm up to the Cydonian, especially considering her claim that Alva had not only been brought back to life, but was also involved in some sort of plot that Trallex had concocted to depose Cronus. They would be short on allies when they landed on Andlios and if Alva and Trallex were potential allies for them, they had to keep that in mind. Trella seemed innocent enough and like her intentions were pure, but Loren and O’Neil were keeping a close enough eye on her just in case.

Their journey was uneventful, if not relaxed. Taking time to play games might have seemed trivial, but it helped to keep their minds off what would happen when they finally arrived. The closer they got to Andlios, the more tense things got aboard, though. Jace was mostly laid back and joking, but the closer they moved into the core, the more anxious he was, even if he was trying to hide it. Katrijn was spending more and more time in the cockpit with Jace just talking while O’Neil and Loren faced the hard facts of their mission and kept an eye on Trella. In all that time, though, O’Neil never found himself alone with her for too long.

“Prime Minister O’Neil.” He looked up from the projections he was looking through to see Trella standing at the portal to his room.

“Yes?” He looked up, taking his glasses off and rubbing his temples before placing them back on his face. “Trella, what can I do for you?”

“I get the distinct impression that you do not trust me, Prime Minister O’Neil.” It had taken him a while to get used to the formality of how she addressed him; even if he was no longer prime minister and if everyone else was calling him whatever the hell they felt like, she stuck to formalities.

“Oh.” He swallowed hard, motioning for her to enter his room. “Come in, have a seat, please.”

“Thank you.” She entered the room and sat down on a small metal stool by the wall.

“I’d offer you some tea, but my provisions are running pretty low at the moment and without stopping to refuel anywhere, I’m afraid I’m just about out,” he said. “I guess that makes me a bad host, unfortunately, but I don’t think you are interested in tea anyway, are you?”

“With all due respect, prime—”

He held his hand up to her, stopping her mid-sentence. “I’m not prime minister anymore. I might be again if all of this goes according to plan, but for right now I’m just Peter O’Neil.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. O’Neil,” it sounded forced, even through her even tone.

“Anyway, what makes you think I don’t trust you, Trella?”

“The fact that throughout this entire journey both Mr. Jones and yourself have taken a keen interest in me but have not probed much further into my life is a good place to start,” she said. “Also, not talking about anything of value around me.”

“We are nervous, Trella.” He was telling the truth, albeit leaving a few details out on purpose. “We are heading back to Andlios with Katrijn and there is nothing Cronus wants more than his sister and myself wiped out of existence. I can trust Loren, I know that, but Jace is new and so are you. Katrijn seems to trust Jace just fine, but we just don’t know you that well. You seem fine, but, well, you understand.”

“I do understand, Mr. O’Neil.”

“Please, just Peter,” he said.

“Okay, Peter, but there is something else…”

“Oh?”

“That is ignoring the elephant in the room here,” she said. Neither of them spoke for a while, O’Neil clearing his throat but letting her continue. “Alva is alive and is on Andlios right now.”

“That is what you’ve told us, yes.”

“This causes a significant problem for you if she succeeds, Peter.”

“I don’t follow.”

“I believe you do because you are heading back with the intent of returning Katrijn to the throne, while Alva is already there on Andlios with Trallex’s plan in motion. I believe that I’m collateral in this to ensure that doesn’t happen.”

“In a way, you aren’t wrong,” he said. “Your relationship with her is clearly strong or else you wouldn’t be here. I never thought Cydonians would even be capable of love, never mind almost openly admitting it…”

“I do not believe I’ve ever expressed that—”

“Regardless,” he interrupted her, “you are with us, she is there and you clearly care about her very much. She probably cares about you just as much and from what I remember of her, she has always been fiercely loyal.”

“I had forgotten that you met her, Peter.”

“Yeah.” He remembered that headstrong girl, who was dead set on navigating the war torn planet on her own. “The night before she was killed she stayed with me. I’ve always blamed myself for not forcing her to take a transport instead of moving on her own.”

“You and I both know she is too stubborn to ever do anything like that.”

“Yeah, I suppose so. That’s why she’s heading back to Andlios on some fool mission like she is. This isn’t about Katrijn and the Freeman name, this is about ensuring the health and safety of the Andlios Republic. It’s about what’s best for everyone, not just for a dynasty. It doesn’t matter one way or the other if it is Alva or Katrijn who gets it done, but as long as we get Cronus off of the throne, things can move on.”

“What if you don’t agree with Trallex and his plans for the Republic?”

The question hung in the air, forcing O’Neil to reflect on his uncomfortable thoughts of Trallex. He had known Trallex for many cycles now but had to admit that he found it difficult to trust him. “I’ll have to deal with that when it comes up,” he said. “One problem at a time, you know?”

Kara

Andal-3 was perhaps the oddest place Kara had ever lived, which was saying a lot after spending the first third of her life aboard a giant spaceship. The day/night cycles were difficult for her to adjust to and sleep very rarely ever lasted beyond a few hours. Hideo had offered her a few tips and suggested that she keep her blinds locked throughout the night, but the planet was so new and fascinating to her that she found it difficult not to want to stare out over the vast, lush forests. On top of that, her mind was occupied with all that was unfolding back on Andlios and what she could do to help.

Jack had given her a few updates on Peter and Katrijn and she knew they were headed back to Andlios, which set her gears in motion. Cronus’s birthday celebration was a matter of weeks away and there was a huge event planned in Krigar to honor the emperor of the Andlios Republic, which of course Kara was invited to be in attendance at. The invitation felt more like a demand than a request, but she ignored that knowing that she might be able to assist Peter and Katrijn better from Andlios than on Andal-3.

“Are you all ready for the celebration of our beloved emperor?” Jack’s voice broke her from her reverie. She turned to see him stepping out of his transport, which was dotted with condensation.

“Gods, Jack,” Kara laughed, placing her hand on her chest, “I didn’t hear you pull up.”

“How could you not?” He slammed the door to the transport shut behind him.

“I was just thinking, is all,” she said. “He’s still my son, you know.”

“I know,” Jack said. “I forget that sometimes. I even forget that he’s human.”

“So do I.” She grasped onto the rail she was leaning on with both hands and pushed herself back. “But there are still those memories from his childhood, when he was just so innocent and full of promise. I swear if I had known…”

“How could you? We do the best we can in everything and sometimes the opposite happens. It’s not your fault, it was just the power that drove him mad.”

“That’s one way of looking at it.”

“Hideo and myself have always wanted kids, but,” he said, “science doesn’t exactly work out like that.”

“Oh please. There are plenty of ways for two men to have a biological child. Science has come a long way and while there are still some who frown upon it, the Cydonians have taught us a lot about biological engineering and creating life outside a womb in a woman’s body, Jack.”

“I know, I know,” he let out a sigh and leaned over the rail next to her, overlooking the rainforest. “It just never felt right, plus it was a good excuse for both of us, considering that we’ve both been so damned busy and neither of us can stop working.”

“You have money, you have power, you could easily have someone look after the child for you.”

“We thought of that,” he said. “It just didn’t feel right.”

“It didn’t exactly work out well for us, either,” she scowled, thinking to her own shortcomings as a parent. They had both been there to help raise their children, but they did rely on their servants to help raise both Katrijn and Cronus.

“Anyway,” Jack seemed embarrassed and quick to change the subject, “are you sure this is the right move?”

“Peter is stubborn, we both know that, and he thinks that he can do everything on his own and chances are he has Katrijn believing the same thing.”

“That sounds like Peter,” Jack said.

“Jonah and he were so alike in many ways, but Peter was always the more level-headed of the two. If my Jonah had come up with this plan, I might be concerned, but knowing Peter, this will at least be partially thought through.”

“We hope.”

“We hope,” she said.

“I know that you seem intent on this and all, Kara.” Jack leaned his elbows against the rail and turned back toward her. “But we can’t protect you if you aren’t on Andal-3. We can’t even do much for you here, but we’ve been able to keep you safe, at least. I know you want to help, but we can’t all get our hands dirty. Hideo and I do what we can from here, sometimes it doesn’t feel like enough, but getting caught won’t help anymore. I don’t know, Kara. I don’t trust Cronus and I don’t trust Giger here, they could have you killed if you crossed them.”

“He’s my son,” she said, trying to convince herself that there was still a connection between her and Cronus. “If he wants me dead, he’ll have full access to me, but my appearance at his birthday celebration is a public image move. If I’m not there it’ll only make things worse. We need to take advantage of this opportunity, no matter the cost.”

“Alright,” Jack said. “I’ll have your transport arranged to the spaceport and you’ll be back on your way to Andlios in the morning.”

“Which morning?”

“Sorry, I forgot that it still takes a while for newcomers to adjust; the second, full morning.”

“I’m starting to like it here, actually.”

“Oh?”

“It’s a strange place, that much is correct, but it still has that air of mystery to it, the same air of mystery that Andlios had when we first landed. That quickly faded, though, but Andal-3? If everything goes according to plan, I might just have to come back here sometime.”

“We’ve become pretty comfortable here ourselves.”

“I really can’t thank you and Hideo enough, Jack.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. We might not have known you as well as we’d like, but it’s easy to see that Katrijn wasn’t just the product of Jonah, but that she has a lot of her mother in her as well. That’s good because Jonah was a damned fool sometimes.”

“Most of the time, actually.”

021. Old Friends

Alva

I’m not sure I understand how you are back,” Oystein grunted, settling his large frame onto one of the bar stools. It was well after closing and the barkeep and a few of Oystein’s guards were the only ones left inside. The barkeep was cleaning up while the guards tended to the two who Alva had made a statement on. “I want to believe and I want to be happy, but dear Freyja.”

“I know it’s tough to comprehend,” she said. “I’m still not entirely sure how it all happened, but I’m back here and I want to help.”

“Was it the Cymages?”

“Was what?”

“Were they the ones that…” He paused for a moment, staring down into his half-empty mug. “…That brought you back?”

“I guess,” she said. “I’m not sure how it happened or if I was ever really dead.”

“You were dead, my girl, I saw it meself.”

“Well, whatever.” She took a gulp of her own beer that was starting to grow warm. “I’m here and I want to help. I saw what you’ve been doing.”

“I’m not going to say I don’t need the help, princess, but how do I explain that you are here? Your funeral was very public, lots of tears were shed.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Divine intervention? A gift from the gods?”

“Aye,” he said. “That’d probably do with this lot. How do I know that you aren’t one of ‘em, though? Maybe there is some secret kill switch inside of ya that is secretly working some Cymage agenda?”

“That’s not gonna happen, Oystein. I’m me, just 100% Alva. Nothing is different.”

“You say that now…” he trailed off.

“I say that and mean it. I want to do what I can to help the movement.”

“I’m not gonna lie, then.” Oystein picked himself up, still as muscular as she remembered him from when she was younger, if not a bit older and perhaps grumpier. “It’d be nice to put you front and center out there instead of me. I’m an old warhorse now, princess, but you’d do a lot to help.”

“So what can I do?”

“Me an’ the boys here were preparing to go on a bit of a midnight raid tonight, hitting one of Boy Freeman’s sentry posts a few blocks down; I’m sure we could find something for ya to do there.”

Oystein quickly put her to work helping load up a commercial transport out behind the bar. The Krigans were mostly younger men, not even old enough to grow full warbeards yet and all of them kept a safe distance from her. She could tell they were talking about her—her augmentations were able to amplify what they were saying. Oystein had told them she had risen and was chosen to come back and help them, which Alva thought was pretty funny, but the look on their faces told a different story. They were taking it seriously.

“Hey,” she said. “Could you give me a hand with this?”

“Oh, uh,” one of them stuttered nervously. “Sure, uh, Princess Alva, whatever you wish.”

“Okay…” She was annoyed. The boy scurried over, helping her pick up the large roll of canvas and load it into the back of the truck. She slammed the door shut and the boy scurried off quickly, bowing to her while he left. “Gee, thanks.”

“Everything goin’ well?” Oystein’s voice boomed throughout the dark alleyway.

“Y-yes, sir,” another boy said.

“Good, good.” Oystein plodded over to Alva, who was watching as they gathered up their weapons.

“They are just boys, Oystein,” she said. “Are you sure they should be doing stuff like this?”

“I’ve led boys into battle my whole life,” he snorted. “I’m not about to stop now. Plus, we have the risen embodiment of Freyja herself on our side.”

“Are you kidding me?” she asked. “That’s what you’ve been telling them? No wonder they are so afraid of me.”

“Tyr is a god to them, you are a goddess and here you are, risen from the dead. No longer folklore but reality, Princess Alva. Just let them be boys.”

“Whatever,” she said. “Are we gonna do this or what?”

“Aye. C’mon boys, let’s ride.”

They all piled into the old transport, Alva sitting in the back on top of the giant rolled up canvas while the group of four boys sat across from her. The four were doing everything they could to avoid eye contact with her while the transport glided along the empty streets toward their location. Alva had turned her CyNet connection off, not feeling like she’d need it and that she could use a break from the deluge of data that was constantly streaming through her mind. If Alva was going to be a part of Oystein’s movement and help guide it in the right direction, it somehow felt wrong to be using Cydonian technology to help make that happen.

The transport slowed down and everyone grew quiet, Oystein peering from the front seat toward the back. “Alright,” he said. “We do this like we always do it. We go in quiet, burn the fucker to the ground and leave the banner. Got it?”

“Aye,” the four said in unison.

“Is it manned?”

“Dunno yet,” Oystein said. “C’mon, let’s get rolling.”

They piled out of the transport, Oystein reminding them a few times to keep it quiet. The six of them slowly approached the sentry post, keeping to the shadows and crouching down underneath the windows at the sentry post. It was a small building with a guard tower branching off of it, one of many that Cronus had set up around Krigar to help “keep the peace.” They had driven a few kilometers into the city and this district of town was a bit more upscale than where the Quorthon was. Oystein had explained to her that they had driven his men out from their part of town and were now going to be striking deep in the heart of where he felt the safest. Oystein stopped at the corner of the building, pointing toward the two guards who stood near the front. He motioned for the four to head out while he kept his arm in front of Alva.

“Let them handle this,” he whispered.

“They aren’t going to—” It was too late, though, just as she was going to verbalize it, her fear came true when she saw their pulseaxes buried deep into the guards, sending them crashing to the ground. Screams rang out and a few shots escaped their rifles before they were nothing more than unmoving corpses on the ground. A sudden flood of light overcame Alva and Oystein.

“Shit!” Oystein exclaimed. “Kill them all!”

“What?” Alva looked up to see Oystein charging toward the guard tower, the four chopping down the door to the building and rushing in. Alva stood outside, unsure of what to do. She had told Oystein that she wanted to do everything as bloodless as possible, and Oystein agreed with her at the time. She came out from her cover and ran toward the front of the building, finding the two dead guards in bloody heaps, deep cuts in their necks and chests before she heard a splat from her left. She turned and saw another guard splayed out on the ground, blood pooling around him. Oystein stood at the top of the guard tower, a menacing figure in the night.

“Go check on them boys,” he shouted down to her. “I’ve got everything under control up here. Tell them I see a perfect spot for the banner, too.”

“Fine,” she reacted quickly, pushing into the building only to find the four of them standing around, a few scattered guards laid out. “Gods dammit,” she muttered. “Is anyone left alive?”

“No, ma'am,” one with a squirt of blood lining his face said to her. “Did you bring the gasoline?”

“What?”

“Nevermind,” he said, looking to the boy next to him. “James, go grab it, will ya?”

“Alright, fine,” he said, rushing past her.

“What have you done?”

“We sent a message, Princess Alva.” He looked proud, wiping some of the blood off his face, but mostly smearing it. “Like we always do. We better get outta here, though.”

“Why?”

“This place is gonna burn.”

“Oystein said something about a banner?”

“Oh right, let’s go put it up.” The remaining three rushed past her, Alva taking her time to walk from the building, looking up at Oystein, who stood in the tower directing the boys while shining the spotlight across the street on an apartment building.

“Right where I’m shining,” he shouted. “Hang ‘er up right there, there’s no way they’ll miss it.”

They went to work, scurrying around, Alva feeling the heat coming from the building while one of the boys ran out of the door almost out of breath. The other three had climbed up the ladder on the side of the building carrying the giant canvas, standing now at the top securing it before unfurling it in a grand sweeping gesture. The canvas unfolded, with “ALVA HAS RETURNED” scrawled crudely across a banner of Cronus’s face in deep red paint, the light shining on it.

“What the…?” She stared up at it, mouth agape.

“Like it?” Oystein boasted. “Thought of it meself.”

“I don’t even know what to say,” she said.

“Save it. We have to get outta here, you hear those sirens?”

“Yeah,” she said, hearing them faintly in the distance, having grown accustomed to her enhanced hearing and having to adjust again to straining. They piled back into the transport and Oystein quickly zipped out of sight, making sure to take back roads to avoid detection. The ride was a quiet, tense one and Alva couldn’t help but stew in her thoughts. She logged herself back into the CyNet, starting to feel uncomfortable being disconnected after finally being able to connect again while back planetside.

Everything was happening quickly and their stunt had received immediate media attention—all of the news vids were starting to come out while they pulled back into the alley behind the Quorthon. The Krigans jumped out, visibly relieved and excited while Oystein lumbered out from the driver’s seat and walked over to congratulate them. The image of the banner was plastered all over the news vids, her name front and center of the attack, with speculation as to if it really was Alva Hedlund or just a pretender. Alva continued to cycle through the vids before she froze, seeing an image of her from inside the outpost talking with the Krigans while they stood over the dead guards. There was no audio, but there didn’t need to be.

How could she know there were security cameras in there? Wouldn’t Oystein know that already, and if he did know, why didn’t he warn her? She transferred the vid file to her holoscanner and climbed out from the transport, walking through the rusted metal door into the back office where Oystein sat pouring himself a drink. “Aye, Princess Alva, want a drink?” he asked, slapping two shot glasses down on the table.

“No,” she said coldly. “I want you to watch something, Oystein.”

“Aye, it’s made the news already, hasn’t it?”

“It has.”

“That’s good, that’s good,” he said, pouring out two shots and gulping one down quickly. “Isn’t it?”

“You didn’t tell me that there were cameras in there, Oystein.” She projected the image in front of both of them.

“How else would they believe you are back, princess?”

“I hadn’t even gotten to that banner yet, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it had to happen.” He picked himself up, slamming the other shot down and walking back into the bar where there was a small congregation of his Krigan warriors, including the few who went with them on the run. “You told me you wanted to help, so you helped.”

“I didn’t think it meant being used and lied to,” she said.

“Nobody lied to you, lassie,” he said. “I just did what needed to happen. You are the new face of the revolution, someone the people can rally behind.”

“So you are using me, then?”

“It’s for the movement, yer da would understand,” he said. “Now c’mon, celebrate with us.”

“What am I celebrating?” The panic was welling up inside her. Everything was spinning out of her control and not only was she a pawn for whatever Trallex’s plan was, now she was just a symbol for Oystein. “Someone else choosing to use me for their own personal gain?”

“Now lassie, that isn’t at all—”

“Yes it is,” she shouted, a hush rippling through the room. “You know I wanted to handle this without blood, but instead you made a bloody display with my name and face plastered all over it. This isn’t what I had envisioned doing. Freyja,” she sighed. “I’ve been back for less than a day.”

“But we’ve started something more, don’t you see that?” He reached out toward her only for Alva to jerk her arm away. “Your face is out there lass, your name is on it. I’m sorry you find me treacherous, but it was the only way.”

“I’m not doing any more for you, Oystein. This is not what my father would’ve wanted.”

“Fine,” he spat on the ground. “Your face is out there, we’ve got dozens of lasses we can take with us on our raids and dress ‘er up like you. The damage has been done.”

“How could you?” She stood toe-to-toe with the hulk of a man, locking eyes. “I thought I knew you better.”

“This isn’t about you or me, Princess Alva,” he said. “It’s about—”

“Stop!” she shouted, feeling a surge of power run through her, her eyes clenched tightly together. When she opened her eyes, it dawned on her just what had happened and found herself right in the middle of the bar, with everyone and everything else pushed back up against the walls.

“What the…” Oystein grumbled, pulling himself up to his feet. “What was that?”

“I…” she stammered in horror.

“Those damned Cymages,” Oystein said. “What’ve they done to you?”

“Nothing…I, oh gods,” she gasped.

“You are one of them now, aren’t you?” he said, tugging on the sleeve of her shirt, forcing her to jerk away. “You aren’t Krigan at all anymore, you aren’t even human!”

Trella

The physical universe had never quite interested Trella until recently, but she found herself sitting in the co-pilot’s chair of the Pequod watching the cosmos that surrounded them while they throttled across the expanse toward Andlios. Toward Alva. The very thought made her heart skip a beat and her pulse quicken. Everything felt fresh, new and exciting in a way that it had never felt before in her life. There was a cold shell that had surrounded her before, but now it had melted away and given way to a warm trove of sensations that were both overwhelming and welcome.

One of the comm buoys sat off in the distance, an ominous reminder that while the universe was a beautiful and wondrous place, humanity had expanded as far as they could reach and left their footprint wherever possible. Their footprints were not as beautiful as the undisturbed universe, that much was clear to her. She looked down at her body, grown in a lab and augmented with mechanisms to not only make her life easier but also to help her live for many cycles. It had never occurred to her before that it was unnatural—it was simply the Cydonian way.

“What are you doing up here?” Jace’s voice broke her from her daydream, sounding upset but not angry.

“Oh.” She turned to see him standing there, sans boots, as she had learned was usual while aboard the Pequod. “I am sorry, Jace, I simply wanted to look out and spend some time alone.” Her greeting was still mechanical, but she had been working to smooth over some of her interactions with the rest of the crew and to somehow act more natural, whatever that meant.

“It’s fine, I guess.” He sat down into his chair and spun around to face the console. “This is just usually where I come to be alone is all.”

“I am very sorry, if you would like me to leave I can always—”

“No, no,” he held his hand up at her. “It’s fine, you are okay, Trella. So tell me, what is it that has you deep in thought, so deep in thought, in fact, that you didn’t hear me coming?”

“Nothing in particular, I suppose.”

“That doesn’t sound very Cydonian,” he chuckled.

“No, probably not.”

“You weren’t thinking about Princess Alva, then?”

“Among other things, yes, that is correct. You don’t sound surprised.”

“You’ve traveled all the way across the galaxy, away from everything you knew just to find her.” He pulled up a star chart and studied it. “You must really love her.”

“There is that word again.”

“What, love?” He turned to her, confused.

“Yes. It is not particularly a word that is used much by my people, Mr. Krios.”

“If doing what you are doing isn’t love, then I don’t know what is.”

“As you are well aware, love is something Cydonians thought to be a weakness and it was systematically removed throughout years of—”

“You can’t remove human nature from a human, you just can’t.”

“I’m not sure my people would agree with that, Mr. Krios.” She absently tapped her fingers on her knee.

“Then how do they explain you?” The question was inevitable, she knew that, but it still stung.

“An anomaly,” she answered, unsure of herself.

“Why not evolution? Your people have been trying to evolve mankind for how long now? Why aren’t you the pinnacle of Cydonian culture?”

“Because I am not, Mr. Krios.” She fidgeted with her hands before folding them in her lap. “I’m not sure I’d use the word love, either, but I’ve spoken with you about this before and—”

“Just because you aren’t comfortable with it doesn’t make it any less true, you know? You are going back because of love.”

“Then why are you going back?”

“For love,” he said, pausing and nodding. “For love, yeah. Sounds a lot better than revenge, doesn't it?”

“So you are doing it for Katrijn, then?”

“Hey, no, wait, hold on a minute!” He raised his voice, his face turning red. “I never said that…”

“See how it feels?”

“Katrijn is a nice girl and all,” he turned to face Trella, “but I’m doing this for my wife and…What am I doing, anyway? I’m just dropping everyone off on Andlios and then getting the hell out. Alright?”

“I didn’t know that you were married.”

“Well, in a way,” he flashed his left hand at her, showing off his ring. “My wife, Ro, you see, she died a few cycles back.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah, me too. It was Katrijn’s brother who did it—well, or one of his goons, who can really know, right? He’s not exactly fond of activists, especially ones who publicly defy him. It was a public execution for the whole world to see.”

“Oh, my, that is just…”

“I know,” he turned back to the controls. “Trust me, I know.”

“I didn’t know.”

“I don’t talk about myself much, so that’s alright,” he said. “Katrijn is great, really, but she’s a princess, I know you understand that. I’m also not really sure how I feel about anything right now. All I know is that we are heading back to Andlios and the last time I was there I had just bought this ship and vowed to never return until Cronus Freeman’s head was on a pike. It isn’t—yet—and one of our princesses can make that a reality. Until then? Andlios isn’t my home anymore, even if I wish it was. Gods, even if one of them does succeed, I’m not sure there is anything left there for me.”

“I just want to see Alva again.” Saying it out loud sent a chill throughout her body.

“There, see? That wasn’t too hard to say out loud, was it?”

“No, I suppose not.”

“Good, we are making some progress then.”

“How long until we are there?”

“See that dot out there?” He pointed out the window toward a small glowing dot off in the distance. It was larger than the stars surrounding it, but still small.

“Yes.”

“That’s it, so I think we’ve got about three days or so, give or take.”

“Are you nervous?” she asked, her stomach tying itself into a knot.

“Are you kidding? I’m scared to death.”

022. Arrival

Jace

The landing had gone smoothly enough, the authorization codes that Loren had provided worked like a charm, but Jace was still sweating bullets waiting for the inspector to sign off on the crates. They were medical supplies, sterile plastic instruments in plastic bags that were being delivered to a hospital in the capital. At least they were on the manifest; inside the two big crates were Loren, O’Neil, Katrijn and Trella; Loren and O’Neil in one and Katrijn and Trella in the other, surrounded by bags of supplies. It was a relief that he could be at least partially honest about what was in the crates—there actually were syringes, although they weren’t being sent anywhere in reality. Jace had thought it was silly at the time to get actual crates of syringes but Loren assured him that it was better to be safe than sorry if the inspector actually opened one of the crates.

The inspector was late, of course, which left Jace nervously pacing back and forth on the dock. It was Andlios, he reminded himself, things weren’t as smooth on the central planet as they were on the fringes. To make matters worse, he knew that inside these crates were his friends and if he was anxious on the outside, he could only imagine how it was inside those crates, where it had to be at least twenty degrees warmer. At least. He did get a chuckle out of himself imagining O’Neil being stuffed up inside along with Loren, who was probably irritating him in such close quarters.

Acting inconspicuous was a lot more difficult than he ever thought it would be and he always felt transparent, even though he’d only really been exposed twice in his career transporting stuff from planet to planet. Through all of the years, he had made some stressful runs before, but everything he did had a contract and was at least somewhat legal. There was a lot of gray area in the fringes, but everything he did could have been justified—at least in his mind—as a legitimate enterprise. There were always offers for him to smuggle goods and the money was good, but he felt that a man was only as good as his word out in the fringes, so he adopted a code and stuck to it. Smuggling live fugitives into Andlios was madness and definitely didn’t fit into his code.

This was smuggling, no doubt about it. There was no way around it, but when Jace broke it down, it was for a good cause, at least. He had been trying to convince himself the whole trip that everything they were doing was justified. The thought of having revenge on Cronus Freeman was what was driving him, even if he wished it wasn’t. He was happy to help Katrijn out, though. She was a nice girl and felt like just another victim of the Cronus Freeman Republic instead of a princess who led a pampered life. Katrijn was a good person and she believed in what she was doing, which is what he reminded himself. He saved her and became a part of the story and he would play out his role until the end. Revenge wasn’t a bad reason, though, he thought, but this was for the greater good.

“License 57379,” a voice came from the hangar door, and Jace looked up to see a stout man, red-faced with a bald head and a long red mustache examining a projection. “The Pequod, operator Jace Krios.”

“That’s me,” Jace uncrossed his arms and held a hand up, the inspector not looking up from his forms.

“Of course it is,” he said, still not breaking his gaze. “Two crates of medical equipment.”

“Yeah, right here.” Jace patted the crate behind him gently, trying to act natural. “I have the manifest right here with the breakdown of the shipment.”

“Uh huh.”

“If you want I can open this up and—”

The inspector simply held his hand out, Jace feeling every beat of his heart in his chest and knew that sweat was beading up on his forehead. His gun was on his hip, but he knew that if things came to that it was already too late, there would be no way they’d get the Pequod out like they did on Cyngen. No tricks would get them past Andliosian security—especially not in Krigar.

“Okay,” the inspector nodded to him, turning around and walking off. “Everything here is fine.”

“Thank you,” Jace let out an audible sigh. “You have a good day now.”

The man walked off without looking back, which usually would have irritated Jace, but this time it felt like a gift from on high. Jace picked up the pry bar from on top of the first crate and jammed it into the crack, heaving with his weight down and hearing the nails slip through the wood. With one last heft the lid popped off and Jace tossed it aside. He pulled the top bag of syringes wrapped in plastic up and dropped it next to him, repeating it a few times until O’Neil and Loren popped their heads out. They straightened themselves out without a word while Jace moved on to the next one, repeating the process for Katrijn and Trella.

“Well, that was awful,” Katrijn murmured, pulling herself out of the crate.

“That your first time being smuggled in somewhere?” Loren shot a sly smile at her. “Shit, princess, you got it easy.”

“Thanks for reminding me.” She offered a hand to Trella, who accepted it but clearly didn’t need to, hopping out and landing on her feet in one smooth motion.

“Alright, alright,” O’Neil looked worn, tired. Jace had always known him as the man who controlled things from the shadows, but their trip to Andlios had shown the human side to him and right at this moment he looked his age. O’Neil was just an old man inside a crate struggling to get out. In fact, it was kind of a funny sight, although Jace didn’t dare laugh while he grunted his way out. Hiding in a crate will do that to a man, Jace guessed. “We need to get out of here and I’m not spending any more time in a fucking crate.”

“I got you, I got you,” Loren helped O’Neil out of the crate before hopping out himself. “I’ve got the security layouts and everything all planned out. We just gotta keep our heads low while we stroll out of here. Nobody will be on the lookout for you, Old Man. Never mind the fact that you weren’t exactly the most public of figures. Most of the photos of you are pretty damned old, in fact.”

“I’m pretty damned old,” O’Neil said.

“Fair enough,” he said. “We all good here?”

“Just gotta stow these crates and lock up the ship and we can be on our way,” Jace said, worried about the Pequod first and foremost, everything else after. It was all he had left, after all.

The familiarity of being back in Krigar felt surreal to Jace, the streets alien to him but felt like something from a fever dream or a past life. Things hadn’t changed much in the last few cycles since Jace had been on Andlios, but there was an ominous feeling in the air that he couldn’t quite place his finger on. Jace wasn’t sure if it was just in his head or if the people looked more miserable or more afraid, but it was clear that something was different. Giant banners of Cronus Freeman hung from the buildings, him looking smug and regal, the signs proclaiming the celebration of Emperor Cronus Freeman’s birthday. He had forgotten what it was like to be on one of the core planets and how there was always a mass of humanity leading their lives in Krigar, the largest city on Andlios. The miserable look on their faces was offset by the banners strung up on the street lights celebrating Cronus Freeman’s birthday.

Celebrating the emperor’s birthday like this while he was still alive with a weeklong celebration felt odd and excessive, even for Cronus’s standards. After the death of Jonah Freeman, they only had a day of remembrance, not a full week. These people cared more about Jonah Freeman than they ever did Cronus Freeman, but that didn’t matter when Cronus and his goons were forcing everyone to celebrate him. It felt like an elaborate joke, like a waking nightmare.

“This feels all wrong,” Jace said aloud.

“You haven’t been here for a while, have you?” O’Neil turned to him, looking strange without his signature glasses on his face.

“No,” he shook his head in disbelief. “No, I haven’t. It was bad before, but this? This just feels all wrong.”

“I can't believe this, either,” Katrijn said, lagging behind the group, trying to take it all in. “I called this place home once before.”

“You’ll call it home again before we are through,” O’Neil added.

“At least we hope,” Loren said, an oddly grave tone in his voice.

Katrijn

Krigar was her home for most of her life, right up until she found herself faced with the hard decision of staying and possibly being killed by her brother or fleeing. Her uncle had told her that he’d support whichever decision she made, but once his suspicions about Cronus were mostly confirmed, he had pushed for her to leave. It all happened so quickly and her father, her family, her planet and the life she knew was stolen from her all in a matter of days.

The city had changed since then—it had changed a lot. That much was expected after being gone for so long, but she had never imagined that Krigar, her city, would feel so strange and unfamiliar to her. It wasn’t her city anymore, she had to remind herself. If their plan worked out that might change, but for now, this was just another new city for her to do her best to avoid capture. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be there, feeling a pit in her stomach at the memories she had of Krigar, of her father and her mother—even of Cronus as a child—before he was a full-blown monster like he was now. It couldn’t help but feel like suicide to be not only on Andlios but in Krigar, the heart of the Andlios Republic. This was the only way they could be close enough to Cronus and the palace to be able to come up with a surefire plan, though, plus she trusted her uncle to do the right thing when it came to her, he always had.

Loren was leading them through the streets to the place where they’d be staying. Their new hideout was in one of the more industrial areas of Krigar, near the outskirts, but he assured them it would suit their needs for the time being. Loren’s contact was late picking them up, and it felt like an ill omen for Katrijn but nobody else seemed to be too upset about it. The man who picked them up in a ground transport was an older man, thin and lean, wearing plain clothing and his face showing a lifetime of wear. Loren and the driver had a brief discussion before they all silently loaded into the small transport.

They quietly drove through Krigar, paying mind to the checkpoints and staying near the back streets that were out of the way. She still couldn’t help but feel exposed sitting in the back of just a normal, everyday transport. For some reason, she had expected something more covert, maybe even with tinted windows, not just a standard transport. The city itself was alarming to her as well. While the main streets were immaculate, the back roads were a different story, in disrepair and lacking the opulence of Cronus’s celebration. Katrijn had seen a red symbol throughout the city, mostly on the poorer streets; it was a red A with a pulseaxe serving as the cross for it.

“What is that symbol?” she asked aloud, not remembering their driver’s name so intentionally not using any sort of greeting.

“Which?” He looked out the side of the old transport, much like the ones her father had used with the Krigans; with wheels for when it was needed, but was usually flown a few meters off the ground. There were windows lining the side with a tint to ensure that nobody could see inside and a few beaten up chairs that they had all occupied, Loren up in the front with the driver.

“That A with the ax through it.”

“Ahh, that’s Alva’s sign,” he boasted. “She’s really something, you know.”

“Alva?” Trella perked up.

“Oh yeah,” he said. “She’s special, let me tell you. I even met her once down at the old Quorthon Hall.”

“What is Quorthon Hall?” Katrijn asked.

“An old Krigan bar,” Jace interjected. “Do you really not know that? I thought this was your city?”

“I didn’t exactly get to go to old Krigan bars as a child, no,” she said sharply.

“Is she alright?” Trella asked.

“Is who alright?” The drive scratched his head.

“Alva.”

“Oh she’s better than alright, she’s been raising hell all over Krigar over the past few weeks. She’s the only one who really seems to be looking out for us folk, not like that Cronus and his goons.”

“She’s been busy,” O’Neil said.

“So she has,” Loren said.

The rest of the trip was a quiet one, them pulling into a gated off area with a small dilapidated building standing in the middle, a few dim lights on in the front. It didn’t exactly instill a lot of confidence in her. “Is this where we are staying?”

“Doesn’t look like much,” Jace agreed with her while they filed out of the transport.

“Just follow me.” Their driver led them in through the front door into what looked like a mostly abandoned warehouse. A few dim lights flickered overhead.

“This is some kind of storage facility?” Jace asked. “I guess we are really pushing that whole medical supplies thing, huh?”

“This isn’t where we are staying,” Loren shook his head, following the driver to a door near the back. He pulled it open, revealing a dark staircase. “This is where we are staying.”

They walked down the stairs, the air humid and heavy, and growing heavier the deeper they went. The walls gradually changed from concrete to rock, and they moved past anything manmade and deeper into what looked like a cave. O’Neil looked apprehensive and Trella was keeping to herself, but Katrijn could read the expression on Jace’s face and his disbelief.

“I was thinking we’d get something a little bit more posh than this, you being a princess and all, Katrijn.”

“I wasn’t expecting posh, but inhabitable,” she said.

“You both, I don’t even know what to say,” Loren shook his head. “This is leading to one of the famous Krigan strongholds at the edge of the city. Your brother had them all sealed off, but this one slipped past ‘em. Your father had this one built on top already, keeping it hidden just in case something went wrong. Something did go wrong, but he wasn’t able to use it. Now we are.”

“Are you kidding me?” Katrijn felt a sense of awe wash over her. “This is a stronghold?”

No one said anything else after the driver pushed open a metal blast door to unveil the interior of the cave; the ceiling carved out about 20 meters high and the main room had two large, wooden tables on either side. The cave branched off in four different directions that she could see with panels sticking out of the rock by each.

“Okay,” Jace broke the silence, his voice slightly echoing off of the rocks. “This is pretty incredible.”

“It really is,” Katrijn smiled, taking the whole scene in. “I can’t believe my father lived in one of these for two whole cycles.”

“So this is our home base for now,” Loren clapped his hands together, the sound bouncing off of the walls. “We better get set up.”

“I can live with this,” Jace said, turning to Katrijn with a smile on his face. “I mean, this is cool, right?”

“It’s pretty incredible,” she said.

“Alva told me all about living in one of these,” Trella was surveying the room herself. “It sounded fascinating at the time, I’m happy to be able to see one in person.”

“Aren’t we all,” O’Neil said.

Katrijn decided to wander off and check out the rest of the stronghold, marveling at what was left of the decorations and the history. These strongholds existed for hundreds of cycles, long before the Omega Destiny had ever been a flicker in someone’s imagination on Earth. It was funny to her that Earth should have technically felt like something important to her, like a part of her history, but most of the time she forgot that it was even a part of humanity’s history. This history was her roots, and Andlios was her home.

There was a commotion coming from the other room, raised voices and a feeling of panic washed over her. Katrijn jogged through the caves back into the main room only to find her uncle with his hands on his temples and Loren frantically looking through a projection on his holoscanner. “What’s going on?”

“Look, Old Man, we need to get you out of here, right now,” Loren was visibly upset.

“What’s going on?” She turned to Jace, who stood at the periphery of the room, arms folded and leaning against the wall.

“There is a bulletin out on O’Neil,” he said bluntly.

“What?” Katrijn turned to Loren and her uncle.

“Yeah,” Loren turned back to her and flashed her a fake smile. “Someone spotted him. The good news is you weren’t spotted, so none of us are in trouble, but the Old Man here? He’s got trouble.”

“I can’t stay here,” O’Neil stood up, straightening out his shirt.

“What are you talking about? I don’t even know why they’d be looking for you. You are the steward to Helgun! The former prime minister! You can travel at will, Uncle!”

“I guess this is just further proof that it was an exile, huh?” Jace said.

“Looks like it,” Loren muttered, trying his best to sift through the reports.

“I can’t stay here,” O’Neil said grimly, walking toward the door leading to the warehouse upstairs. “I can’t put this mission in danger.”

“What?” Katrijn felt her stomach drop. “No, Uncle, you can’t.”

“I’m agreeing with Katgirl on this one, Old Man,” Loren said. “We’ve got agents here, we have resources we can tap into.”

“I was spotted,” he said. “They’ll be looking for me and knowing Cronus, he’ll not rest until I’m found. He didn’t trust me when I was prime minister and had me sent away; I’m sure that me showing up uninvited and hiding out will drive him nuts. If I stay here, he’ll look until he finds me—until he finds us. If I’m on my own I’m not jeopardizing anything here.”

“Gods dammit,” Loren cursed.

“I have to,” he said. “Loren, can you arrange to have me dropped off somewhere innocuous?”

“Yeah,” there was a hint of disappointment and resignation in Loren’s voice. “They won’t know where you were or be able to trace you back here, at least.”

“Good, that’s all we need.”

“You can’t, Uncle.” Katrijn found herself feeling overwhelmed. “What about the plan?”

“I trust everyone in this room right now, Kat.” He placed his hand on her cheek. “More than that, I have faith in you. You can do this. You don’t need me, I’ll just slow you down. I’m just an old man, after all, right?”

“Don’t worry, Old Man,” Jace had a smile on his face. “We’ll find a way.”

“You take care of her, alright?” O’Neil turned to Jace, who simply gave him a nod. “All of you, take care of each other. Hopefully, this won’t be long. I’ll contact Loren when I can.”

Without further discussion, he left the room and Katrijn felt her world starting to fall apart. It had taken her cycles to find her uncle, to get to be with someone who remembered who she was and cared about her and now he was walking out the door. It was another loss to Cronus and one that she vowed not to let slide.

023. The Regret of Detainment

O’Neil

After only about fifteen minutes of O’Neil sitting on the patio of a tea shop in one of the more affluent districts of Krigar, Cronus’s elite guards descended upon the shop with their guns drawn and pointed at him. He greeted them with a chuckle and finished his tea while the captain of the guard informed him that the emperor would like to meet with him. Of course, it wasn’t a request as much as it was a demand, but he went along with it anyway. O’Neil knew that fighting would be a mistake, as would trying to hide anywhere else. He wanted them to have no reason to dig or search, to unearth his network of agents or any of his other secrets.

He was tossed into a dingy cell down in the bowels of the palace, where usually the worst of the worst were kept. O’Neil knew exactly where he stood at this moment and it was grim. There was a stone bench that doubled as a bed affixed to the wall, a bucket and some hay tossed in a pile against the back corner. In a world full of modern, humane jails, they chose the dungeon for him, sending him a strong message. O’Neil simply sat in the cell, reflecting, until he heard the sound of the door being unlocked, light flooding into the otherwise dark cell.

“You think of me as a monster,” Cronus stood in the cell, his red cape with gold fringe hung elegantly over his white tunic.

“I never said that.” O’Neil stayed seated, not bothering making eye contact with the emperor.

“But you think it, don’t you?”

“What I think is immaterial to this discussion, Cronus.” He folded his arms and sat back, looking up at the emperor, noting that he looked older than the last time they had met. “I do not agree with the decisions you’ve made, if that is what you are asking.”

“Of course you disagree! You are the great Prime Minister Peter O’Neil, the captain of the Omega Destiny, one of the founding fathers of the Andlios Republic! You know best, always, dearest uncle,” he sneered, clearly agitated by O’Neil’s presence. “I sent you to Helgun for a reason—to rid this world of your meddling. Yet here you are.”

“Here I am,” O’Neil said. “Just in time for your big birthday celebration.”

“Isn’t that kind of you.”

“I haven’t had time to get you a present, though,” he held his hands out.

“Do not mock me, Uncle,” Cronus turned away, arms akimbo. “It is by my good graces that you weren’t shot on sight.”

“For what? Returning home?”

“You were sent away to perform a duty,” he explained, his back still to his uncle. “That duty was to be the steward of Helgun, not to return to Andlios in a matter of weeks without a direct order. This is treason.”

“Treason,” he repeated aloud. “Are you sure about that?”

“Yes, treason.”

“On the Omega Destiny, I had to levy a similar claim against your father. It was my leniency that not only spared his life but helped to lead us to where we are today. We shared a vision and working together, we were able to achieve more than if I had just executed him then and there.”

“What you consider leniency I consider weakness.”

“So you wish that you were never born, then?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” he shouted over O’Neil, turning to show how red his face had grown.

“Well then enlighten me, dearest nephew.”

“You are impossible.” He knocked on the steel door three times, the guard outside swinging it open and Cronus stepped out and disappeared into the blinding light. “I’m giving you time to think about this, to admit whatever scheme you are up to. Don’t take me not executing you in public as a sign of weakness, Uncle, because I will not hesitate to do so in the blink of an eye. I simply wish to know why you are here.”

“Can’t a guy come to his dictator nephew’s birthday without being tortured?”

“Very funny,” Cronus said, motioning to slam the door while looking back only for O’Neil to raise his hand up.

“Let’s say I have someone on the outside waiting for me, and if I don’t check in something bad might happen.” He kept a stone face while Cronus stared down at him in disbelief. They both knew the play, as it had become legendary as a part of the Andlios Republic lore—it was the Jonah Freeman play.

“You wouldn’t,” Cronus said. “Do you truly think I’ll fall for that?”

“Your father wasn’t an idiot, Cronus,” he sucked at his teeth. “It worked for him, it’ll work for me. Or maybe you want to have your celebration ruined? Maybe it’s worse than that, maybe I’ve been talking to Alva—”

“Gods damn you.” The name Alva clearly upset Cronus. He turned and stomped away while O’Neil chuckled to himself, hoping that he hadn’t just sealed his death warrant by prodding him too much.

Shortly after, a set of guards came and the door swung open again, pulling him from the dingy cell and walking him through the dark corridors toward the palace proper. They walked quietly through the palace, letting him walk out in front of them with his hands bound, through one of the guest wings of the palace before stopping at a door and guiding him into it. They weren’t his old quarters—that much was clear—but he was inside the palace, which meant he’d had some level of access to communications devices. O’Neil had called his nephew’s bluff and thankfully there was historical precedence to plant the fear of an upheaval done in the manner that Jonah had used all those cycles before, but O’Neil still wasn’t in the clear just yet.

The rest of the day passed without incident, O’Neil running a few self-diagnostics on his augmentations to pass the time. He didn’t have any of his usual gear, but most of his robotic innards were meant to hold up for months without breaking down or have any real need for maintenance; it was something to do and he could do it discreetly. Checking his augmentations had been a nightly ritual for him, so it felt natural to simply zone out and make sure everything was running smoothly, not that it really mattered. It was best to conserve his strength considering that Cronus was unpredictable and could at any time throw him into a cell and start torturing him—or worse.

The sound of footsteps outside and the lock being removed from the door jarred O’Neil away from his diagnostics, quickly closing the panel on his chest and buttoning up his shirt. The door creaked open and Alistair Giger stood in the doorway, a smug look upon his face and a ridiculously posh tunic, cape and hat adorning his increasingly pudgy frame.

“Well, if it isn’t my predecessor,” he feigned a smile, slightly bowing to O’Neil, who picked himself up from the chair and nodded to him. “What a pleasant surprise.”

“I’m sure, Prime Minister Giger.”

“Ah yes, always good with the titles,” he wagged his finger at O’Neil. “Quite the proper old man, aren’t you?”

“I am the steward of Helgun, you know.”

“Of course, the honorable steward of Helgun, Mr. Peter O’Neil.” Giger sat in a chair behind the desk in the center of the otherwise mostly empty room. “So why are you here, Mr. Steward?”

“From what I understood, I was a free man,” he smiled at Giger. “In fact, I am one of modest power. I didn’t know that it would be such a problem for me to return home for my nephew’s birthday celebration.”

“Of course you are a free man, Mr. Steward,” Giger folded his hands and rested his chin on them. “No one is claiming you aren’t. There are just…expectations…for Emperor Freeman’s trusted advisors, is all. In the future, we would like some sort of communication to alert us to be prepared for your arrival. We simply felt a bit foolish to find out through back channels that a man of such influence was in Krigar unannounced.”

“So that is why I was scooped up in public by a platoon of elite guards and tossed into a cell?”

“A simple miscommunication is all. Emperor Freeman informed his guards that you were to be brought to an audience with him immediately and they are not exactly well-versed in handling delicate matters, as you’ve seen.”

“Sending elite guards to pick up a politician seems a bit heavy-handed.”

“These are troubling times, Mr. O’Neil, we both know that.”

“Troubling times, eh?” He raised an eyebrow. “Having some difficulties with the locals?”

“Nothing we can’t handle,” he said. “You know how it is. Being a ruler is tiring work and not everyone will agree with the decisions. There are bound to be a few rabble-rousers.”

“Especially those who were brought back from the dead.”

“Yes,” he shifted uncomfortably in the chair. “Or so they say. Contrary to your belief, Mr. O’Neil, you are not being detained against your will.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Correct, this is actually for your own safety. You are quite…” Giger spun his finger around in the air. “…I guess the word is notorious? Your scalp would be quite valuable and they would do anything to undermine what we’ve all worked so hard to build.”

O’Neil made a mental note of Giger taking credit for helping to build the Andlios Republic after playing a small, menial role over the past few months. He simply nodded at Giger and kept quiet while the man fidgeted in the chair, standing up regally and pacing back and forth. Giger had come from money but his family held very little power in Krigar, which made his ascent to prime minister all the more confusing. O’Neil hadn’t seen it, which was what troubled him the most. One day he was just there and O’Neil was sent to the fringes.

“A thank you is in order then,” O’Neil stood up and offered his hand toward Giger, who simply stood, hands clenched behind his back and stared down at his hand for a long moment.

“Well of course, Mr. O’Neil.” He offered a gloved hand and O’Neil gave it a solid squeeze, noting Giger’s soft touch and the pained expression he made. “Everything we do is for the good of the Andlios Republic. I’m sure you understand that.”

“It isn’t easy,” he said.

“I’m glad we agree,” Giger strode to the door before pausing and turning back at him. “Oh, one last thing.”

“Yes?”

“Our agents spotted you with a rather motley crew of people, would you be as kind as to let us know who else knows you are in the capitol? Just for peace of mind, you know.”

Kara

Perhaps it was naive of Kara to assume that the return of the empress of Andlios would elicit a formal greeting, that there would be fanfare, a royal greeting party and something more than a few of Cronus’s elite guards to escort her back to the palace. Yet her arrival was almost low key in comparison to her departure, which was mildly unsettling after her second flight through space since the Omega Destiny arrived on Andlios decades prior. Krigar hadn’t changed much since she left outside of the giant banners of Cronus hanging up all over the city, but it was nice to ride through the city and for her to look at the city that she had inhabited for many cycles but rarely ever got to see in person. Most of her adult life as empress was spent inside the palace, not quite a prisoner, but maybe a prisoner to her own devices.

The guards were mostly quiet, although courteous to her, but after the short flight from Andal-3, she was just happy to be back planetside again. Space travel still did not feel natural to her, even after all of those cycles on the Omega Destiny. There was a huge difference between a ship traveling within the confines of physics just under the speed of light and bending time and space with a HyperMass drive—the latter leaving her feeling sick to her stomach whenever she returned to normal space. The city was mostly quiet, which seemed unsettling to her, with the banners of Cronus adorning the walls of most buildings. What surprised her the most was seeing the few that were defaced. Red “A’s” written over his face with what looked like an old pulseaxe serving as the cross.

“It seems like not everyone loves my son,” she commented, not expecting a reply.

“Fucking rebel scum,” one of the guards snarled.

“Rebels?” She was surprised to hear that an actual movement existed, never mind in the capitol. There had been attempts at uprisings in the past but Cronus was quick to squash them with public brutality and precision.

“Yes, Your Highness,” he looked embarrassed at cursing in front of her. “I’m sorry for that outburst.”

“It’s fine, tell me more about these rebels.”

“We don’t know much about them, ma'am,” he said. “Just that it’s a few old Krigans led by some red-haired girl who claims to be a descendent of Tyr.”

“Tyr?” Her ears perked up at the sound of his name. “What’s this rebel’s name?”

“She claims to be Alva Hedlund, Your Highness,” he said. “But we all know that Alva died before the formation of the Republic.”

“So she did,” Kara said, smiling warmly at the guard before losing herself in thought. “Her name evokes strong feelings, though, doesn’t it?”

Her question hung in the air awkwardly, all of them knowing that Tyr Hedlund was just as important to the Andlios Republic as Jonah and O’Neil were. There had been whispers of Trallex and Tyr coming to an agreement but it was written off as hearsay considering the grand public ceremony that was held to honor Alva’s passing. Jonah was dear to Alva and if she was alive there would be little chance of keeping them from each other, with Jonah considering her his little sister and all. Jonah and O’Neil had enough covert agents around the Republic to where such a tremendous secret could not be kept. There was just no way.

The very idea of Alva not only being alive but leading a rebellion with what was left of Tyr’s supporters seemed absurd to Kara. Collective imaginations had run wild in the wake of Cronus’s rule, with the people hoping for Alva to be back from the dead on a path of bloody vengeance. Well, some people. The rest were living in fear of that bloody vengeance. Then again, this was a world in which her son had murdered her husband, chased his sister into exile and either murdered or dissolved what was left of the Senate. Nothing would surprise her anymore, especially the Cydonians being able to either keep Alva alive or bring her back to life and use her for their own political machinations.

A part of her wanted to warn her son about the dangers at hand, but the other part wanted to see his cruel reign come to an end, even if that meant him losing his life. The time for a peaceful resolution had come and gone, she knew that even if it pained her. She would see her son again, but she wasn’t sure if it would be one of the last times she did and if she would be a part of his demise. The thought turned her stomach. He had decided his own fate when he poisoned Jonah and framed Katrijn for it. Everything else since then was only further proof that his quest for power had driven him mad. If anything, him being stopped would be a kindness to not only everyone living under his rule, but also to the sweet boy that was alive somewhere inside of him crying out in pain.

When she arrived at the palace, there was no fanfare, just like at the hangar, just Giger standing there looking like a smug fool with a few guards at his side. “My empress,” he gave her a slight bow. “I hope your travel was without incident.”

“It was fine, yes, Mr. Prime Minister Giger,” she gave him a warm smile.

“Emperor Freeman is currently attending to official business at the moment, but I have told him that you had arrived and he wished to see you at once in his audience chamber.”

“Well, I am a bit tired, but I don’t want to leave the emperor waiting.”

Giger led her through the palace, the guards flanking them, which felt like overkill in what had to be one of the safest places in the entire Republic, but there was a lot less activity in the palace than she had ever remembered. It felt like she was walking through a dream, like the great palace that was once abuzz with activity was now nothing more than a memorial to what once was. The palace was a veritable tomb; the only noise came from the shuffling of the armor on the guards and the clanging of Giger’s saber against the chain on the side of his cape.

The audience chamber was as she had left it—Cronus sitting upon his throne looking tired, a few guards scattered around at the entrances and the curtains drawn shut. The room was dark and foreboding, which is what she had always assumed Cronus was going for. Projected images lined the curtains of live feeds from around the city and on distant parts of the Republic. The image in the middle was of one of his banners hung up in Krigar with the crude red “A” over his face. His eyes were fixed on that image while a Cydonian stood by his side speaking softly to him. Not just any Cydonian, but the chosen representative of the Cydonian people, Trallex.

“Excuse me,” Cronus held his hand up toward Trallex, who simply stopped talking, and Cronus turned toward the door. “Mother. Giger informed me that you had arrived.”

“Yes,” she bowed to him, and Cronus waved his hand at her.

“Yes yes, dispose of the pleasantries,” he said, sounding flustered. “I’m sure you remember Trallex.”

“Of course,” she gave a nod to the Cydonian, who returned it. “How nice to see you again.”

“You as well, my empress.” His voice was still unsettling to her after all these cycles, but she did a better job of hiding how much it bothered her now.

“I must admit that I’m surprised to see you here.”

“There is a matter of concern that I am attending to,” he said, deftly avoiding giving any actual information.

“Oh?” Her curiosity was piqued.

“Oh just tell her,” Cronus crossed his arms and pouted. “Everything is all fucked right now, anyway.”

“There are reports of a mechanical device appearing in the space by Gimle.”

“The gas giant Gimle?” She looked at him, puzzled. “The one out on the fringes past the Andal system?”

“Yes,” he hissed.

“What kind of device, exactly?”

“A giant fucking ring,” Cronus interrupted, pounding his fist on the arm of his throne. “A giant fucking ring that is unlike anything we’ve ever seen before and that no one informed me about until days ago!”

“Well sir,” Giger said, sounding nervous. “We believed it was—”

“That does not matter right now,” he cut off the prime minister. “Trallex’s people have been scanning it and he claims that while it is not theirs, it includes some Cydonian designs.”

“Does it have anything to do with those defaced banners I saw on the way here?” she asked.

“Blast if I know,” Cronus growled, clearly overwhelmed and still staring at the defaced banner.

“Perhaps we should be talking about this some other time,” Giger gave a slight nod toward Kara.

“Oh fuck off, Giger,” Cronus snarled. “It’s my mother, I should have never sent her away in the first place. Everything is all fucked up right now thanks to you.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Giger bowed to him. “I have matters to attend to if you’ll excuse me.”

Giger slithered out of the room while Cronus watched him with his lip curled. There was clearly trouble in paradise for the two of them, although Kara was unsure if it was good or bad for Andlios. She wasn’t sure if she should say anything about Giger, or if it really mattered. Everyone other than Cronus thought very poorly of Giger. There was a slight glimmer of hope for her son yet if he was seeing through Giger. Trallex’s involvement was troubling, though, she had never been able to trust him quite as much as Jonah and Peter were able to. If he was here and concerned about something then it was something to be deeply, deeply worried about.

“Is everything alright, Cronus?” she asked, stepping up onto the platform and sitting down in her old chair next to the throne, grasping onto his hand. Maternal instincts were difficult to suppress; even if her son had grown into a troubled man, he was still her son.

“No,” he said. “I don’t think it is.”

024. The Wild Ones

Alva

After all that preparation, all those cycles of honing her skills and abilities, of mentally preparing for whatever Trallex was going to throw at her, it was difficult for Alva to not feel like she had failed. There she sat, inside a comfortable fully furnished apartment provided to her by Trallex after Oystein and his band of Krigans had rejected her. In fact, it was Oystein’s rejection on top of his deception that hurt the most. She was angry with what Oystein had done, but couldn’t help but feel great shame at his reaction to what she had become, to what she was. He reminded her that she was not simply Alva Hedlund anymore—instead she was something much different, she was the amalgamation of Krigan and Cydonian culture as engineered by Trallex. She was Trallex’s personalized evolution for the human race and it made her feel like a filthy traitor to her father’s people—her people.

Her failure weighed heavily on her, knowing that not only had she failed herself, but she had failed her father, Oystein and even, in a strange way, failed Trallex. While there was nothing like an emotional bond with Trallex, there was a grudging respect for the man who had helped to bring her back and give her the opportunity to restore the honor of the Krigan people. Of course, her people really didn’t see her as one of them anymore; instead, she was just another Cymage in disguise looking to send their people further into ruin and dishonor. Winning back the Krigans was a tall order—possibly too difficult for her to handle on her own. She didn’t need to just win their approval, she needed to prove to them that she could be more than a figurehead to their movement, that she was a true leader. All Krigans knew were force and honor, the rest were details that some respected, but most didn’t care about.

Alva was all alone in a place that should have felt like her home but instead felt like a giant, oppressive machine that had systematically destroyed everything she knew and loved. Somehow she was supposed to change all of that and now, without the help of Oystein and his warriors, she had to do it on her own. Even if his band of Krigans was not the most experienced, they were Krigans and nothing struck heart into the fear of an opposing force than a Krigan charging full force at them with pulseaxes in the air. She was so close to being able to do that on her own, to charge forward with her own warband with hopes of changing Andlios for good, but now that was lost.

She slumped back into the comfortable couch, feeling the cushion embrace her and help assuage at least some of her fears about the future. The Krigan way was flawed, she had to remember, and the only way the Krigans had held off the Fourth Fleet was with the assistance of Ingen. The Krigans all wanted to charge headfirst into battle, to simply throw bodies at the Fourth Fleet and hope they would back down, while Ingen had instead utilized old Earth military tactics and taught them the value of patience. Oystein had rallied against such actions then and chances were he wouldn’t take kindly to being reminded of that. Alva couldn’t simply march up to him and explain that she was simply a weapon at their disposal, something they wouldn’t expect.

The answer was simple to her, although she wasn’t sure there were any means available to her to accomplish that—she needed an army. Her army was back at the Quorthon and wasn’t exactly pleased with the revelation that she had been augmented by the Cydonians; that made her an army of one, which wasn’t going to cut it against Cronus’s elite guards. She had heard stories of other forces making raids on cities on Andlios, but they felt like tall tales more than anything else. There was a group of raiders out by the deserts of Zahira, just beyond Cydonia in the northeast, who had been defying Cronus and attempting to take Cydonia by force. They were called the Wild Ones and there wasn’t much out there about them. Alva scrolled through whatever news stories she could find about them and remembered hearing Trella mention them in passing; they were what was left of the nomadic Zarr’nid people who didn’t fold into Cydonian culture; they were the outcasts who had rallied against the rise of the Cydonian people, but ultimately were left behind.

What little video there was of the Wild Ones both disgusted and intrigued her. They were insane, that much could be said for them. They rode derelict transports that were modified to their own liking, usually with more weapons—both projectile and stationary—than she had ever seen strapped onto one of those old transports before. They wore traditional Zarr’nid desert gear, meaning long robes and head wraps that obscured them, although they had decorated everything with either blood or red paint, it wasn’t clear to her which. Of late they had been focusing on raiding into Cydonia, destroying convoys from Krigar that were carrying weapons and other supplies for the military.

Still entranced by the video of the raiders hitting a supply line that was caught on vid, she toyed with the idea of reaching out to Trallex for guidance and even for him to assure her that she was on the right path, but she paused instead, choosing to map out her route to the Zahira desert and hatching a plan to catch their attention. This mission was vital to her—not just to her, but to her entire mission. She would not fail this time, nor would she be taken advantage of again.

Traversing the wastes of Andlios felt like she was home again more than being in Krigar had ever felt to her. Time had elapsed since she was last there, but everything was there just like it was before she left it. Ruins of once-great cities stood untouched by man, overgrown from vines and other plants. Most would be appalled to be driving through a flat, barren area like this, but for Alva, it was quite natural. The stronghold she had spent most of her formative years in was about fifty klicks to the south, right near Speera, the city that was first founded by the Earthers and had since sprawled out to become one of the major cities on Andlios. She had only heard stories of it since she had visited it while O’Neil was still there, but apparently, it had grown quite unwieldy since then.

She took care to avoid most of the major throughways that led to Cydonia. Cydonia was not her final destination, although the road to Cydonia was clearer in parts than riding through the wastes of Andlios. There were stories about how these wastes were rich forests teeming with life before the great wars, but all she had ever known of the area was the great wastes, a place where if you walked through, you’d need anti-radiation medication and to keep a close eye on your rad levels, or else your life would be uncomfortable for whatever was left of it.

The Andliosian sun was setting over the horizon and she knew she was running short on time. Alva had just continued heading East, diverging from the road to Cydonia and toward the Zahira desert in hopes of running into the Wild Ones, or at least one of their scouts. They had to be around somewhere and a pristine transport alone and unarmed heading out into their desert was just the right bait to lure them into attacking her. The transport was zipping along, heading into a narrow pass that fed out into the mouth of the desert when she saw a figure ahead, standing in front of a broken down transport, waving wildly at her.

It was clearly a decoy, but she had no choice but to play coy, pulling up alongside the other transport and hopping out. “Hello there,” she said, gripping the pulseaxe in her right hand and slinging it over her shoulder. “What kind of trouble do you got here?”

“Damned engine got overheated again,” the figure said, clearly an older male.

“Do you need a lift?” she asked, nodding toward her own transport.

“Wow,” he said, admiring it. “That looks brand new, what brings you out here?”

“Looking for some friends,” she said.

“Friends are hard to come by out in Zahira,” he said, his voice sounding tentative.

“I’m just hopeful, I guess.”

“Out here that is more dangerous than you might think,” he said.

“Oh?” She could feel the presence of more people around them, crawling out from behind rocks and staying out of sight. “From what I can tell you’ve got a few friends of your own here.”

She saw his eyes widen and heard a few voices cry out; the sound of rocks underfoot were coming from all angles and before she knew it, she was surrounded by figures dressed similarly to the first man, only with deep red stains lining their off-white robes. They stood with spears and a few with blasters pointed at her, one with a more ornate scarf stepping forward with an air of confidence radiating around him.

“There are no friends out here for you, red-haired one,” he said. “We are the Wild Ones and if you value your life you’ll hand over that transport. We’ll provide you with food and water and point you toward Cydonia.”

“You can have it,” she said, holding her empty hands up. “I brought it with me as a gift.”

“A gift?” he laughed. “We would claim it, gift or not. We are not looking for more friends.”

“What about a friend who could promise you Cronus Freeman’s head on a pike?”

“A truly benevolent gesture,” he said. “Although one would think that a girl such as yourself, coming to us with gifts such as this would be able to somehow prove that she could deliver on such a…bold promise.”

“Didn’t you hear? I’ve come back from the dead.”

“I…Interesting. Who is this dead girl who stands before us?”

“I’m Alva Hedlund,” she said. “Daughter of Tyr Hedlund and I’m building an army to take Andlios back.”

“So you are not only deceased but a fool as well.”

“The Andlios Republic was founded by fools, was it not?”

“This much is true. That makes you one as well.”

“In a way.”

“Very interesting. There is a sandstorm brewing on the horizon, and not taking shelter would be foolish now. Come with me,” he motioned for her to follow him toward a small cave.

Trella

The mood in the bunker was what Trella could only imagine as being tense, maybe even hopeless. Prime Minister O’Neil had left a few hours before and there was a silence that ruled over the underground cavern that had made Trella snap her fingers a few times to ensure that her sensors were not malfunctioning. Not only was no one speaking, but no one was really moving or even fiddling with a holoscanner. It was just silence laced with despair. At least what she had decided was despair. They all knew that he understood his chances of evading capture on the surface, yet he went anyway, not wanting to sacrifice their mission. He was as bold of a man as all the vids had said he was.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Trella finally broke the silence.

Katrijn sprung up from her seat and kicked the wooden chair back, stomping out of the large gathering room into one of the bunk rooms off to the side. Jace simply sat where he was on top of the table, his feet hanging off onto a chair and shook his head. Loren let out a sigh and picked himself up, stretching out his arms. “I’ll go check on her,” he said, heading after her.

“Did I say something wrong?” she asked, still unsure.

“Not really,” Jace said. “He’s a crafty guy, we’re all sure he’ll be fine, but it’s the rest of us we are worried about, Trella.”

“Oh,” she said. “Why?”

“That’s not really easy to explain,” he said. “He was in charge, he had the plans and the connections down here and now we are kind of just trapped in this underground bunker without anyone to really tell us what we should be doing.”

“So things are without hope, then?”

“Yeah, well.” Jace scratched behind his ear. “I wouldn’t go that far, but more or less.”

“Then why are we still here?”

“That’s, uh,” he paused. “That’s a very good question, one I don’t have an answer to just yet. We gotta give Kat some time to process all of this. You can’t just become a leader in a day, you know? As for me, I don’t know, I might try to hightail it out of here sooner rather than later, but suddenly it feels like a bad idea to just leave like this.”

“Then what was the plan in the first place?”

“O’Neil was integral to that, I guess,” he said. “O’Neil helped her father lead before and apparently made attempts at guiding Cronus. The plan was for him to help Katrijn out, from what I’ve gathered. I don’t know, they don’t really tell me much about plans or tactics or whatever.”

“Oh,” she said, unsure of where their conversation should go next. “Shouldn’t we come up with a plan now?”

“I’m sure Loren will help with that,” he said. “He seems pretty good at that kind of stuff. Until then, I guess we wait.”

“This doesn’t seem like a good plan to me,” she said.

“It’s what we’ve got,” he said. “What about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you going to stick with us or what? From what we’ve heard, Alva is here and leading her own movement of some sort. That’s why you came here, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” she said, feeling a burning in her stomach at the mention of Alva’s name. “I just didn’t want to leave you all in such a bad position.”

“Things aren’t looking great, are they?” he said. “But it is nice to have a friend around.”

“Friend?” It was a word she had heard Alva use and she knew the meaning but had never heard it used around her. “I’ve never been called a friend before.”

“Well, you are a friend of mine,” he said. “I’d say you are a friend of all of ours now, even. We’re all in this together right now. You did come here to find Alva, though.”

“I do want to find Alva.”

“Well, what was the place the driver said that they operated out of? Some bar or something?”

“The Quorthon,” she said; the name hadn’t left her since she heard it.

“Right, Quorthon. An old Jarl or something, right?”

“Yes,” she said. “He had a hand in the birth of our people, even. He was also the first one to shun us.”

“Oh, right,” he said. “That old story. I had kinda forgotten about it.”

“No Cydonian has been able to forget it, as I’m sure no Krigan has forgotten it, either.”

They sat in silence for a moment before Loren strode back into the room, his customary smile on his face. “The good news is that she’s gonna be fine,” he clapped his hands together.

“Is there bad news?” Jace asked, not looking over.

“Other than the Old Man walking out into the abyss and us without a plan? Naw,” he said. “It’s all fine. We just gotta come up with a plan.”

“Great,” Jace said. “Maybe a fleet of starships will just come out of nowhere and blow Cronus and his goons up for us, then just hand everything over to us and leave.”

“That’d be nice,” Loren said. “I mean, we can’t rule that out just yet.”

“Gods, you are impossible sometimes,” Jace sighed.

“We just gotta keep our cool, alright? I’ve got contacts all around the city that I’ve been talking to and we’ll come up with something.”

“Alright, alright,” he said.

“I think I can help,” Trella said.

“Help how?” Loren turned to her.

“I’m going to head to the Quorthon and find Alva,” she said. “I will tell her about you, about Katrijn and I’m sure she’ll listen to me.”

“Okay,” Loren squinted at her. “Are you serious? Is she serious?” He turned to Jace. “I can’t tell with Cymages, they don’t inflect at all, it’s all this monotone nonsense.”

“I think so,” Jace said.

“Can you do that?” Loren asked.

“I can try,” she said.

Loren met her with a silent nod and she began her preparations. The mood within the bunker was still somber and it felt freeing to remove herself from that situation. Trella had been just a passenger with them for a while, just another body along for the ride and it felt good to her to finally be contributing. Her stomach felt weird, her blood pressure had risen over ten points and her pulse had quickened at the thought of seeing Alva again. It had only been a matter of a few weeks now, but she had resigned herself to never seeing Alva again after Trallex had removed her from the situation right before Alva was to depart.

There was a feeling that snuck into the back of her mind while she was on this journey that maybe Alva was a part of the decision to leave Trella behind. It didn’t make sense in the context of their last meeting, especially with how tender Alva was toward her, but it was what she had presumed was a fear. The fear that Alva didn’t want her around anymore and would turn her away as soon as she showed up. Maybe Alva needed distance from Trella to get her task done; she might be a hindrance if she were around or even kept Alva from wanting to be a part of it in any way. None of that mattered now, though, things were looking grim and she knew she needed to find Alva, if not for her, then for everyone else. They had all been so nice to her, Jace especially, and she didn’t want to let them down.

While she walked down the street, having point-by-point guidance in her display, she noted just how odd Krigar felt compared to Cyngen. Cyngen was more like the bunker they were laying low in, just a system of caves, only of course much larger in scope. But everything on Krigar was open, the buildings were filled with windows and people walked the streets without a care in the world. Back on Cyngen, the only people on the streets were the non-Cydonians and they were mostly busy with their work at the time. Everyone seemed to live a very different kind of lifestyle in Krigar and she wondered what the rest of Andlios looked like now. She had always been keen on seeing Cydonia, but if the reports were true and it had been reappropriated to be more like Krigar, then there wouldn’t be much of a point—it would be nearly identical to Krigar. After a while, Krigar began to transform, the buildings growing older and in disrepair, the sea of citizens thinning out to just a few scattered people, mostly keeping to themselves and glaring at her while she walked by.

Throughout most of the city there was a diverse population, a mix of people, but the closer she got to the Quorthon, the more it was simply Krigans. That meant more and more of them were glaring at her or even snickering at her. They still seemed to not be very welcoming to Cydonians, which only made the knot in her stomach grow in intensity. She finally rounded the corner to the street where the Quorthon was, noting it was the only building where there was any activity among what looked like dilapidated or abandoned buildings. Outside of it stood a few young Krigans, pulseaxes either in hand or strapped onto their backs, joking and drinking in the middle of the street as if they were untouchable.

“What are you doing out this way, Cymage?” One of the younger ones walked out toward her, pulseaxe in hand. He still had a smooth face, unlike the rest, who had beards proudly on display. Trella simply kept walking toward them. “Hey,” he said. “Didn’t you hear me?” He raised his pulseaxe.

“I’d recommend you don’t do that,” she said.

“Did you hear that?” the boy laughed, turning back to the group of Krigans. “This lost little Cymage is ordering me around.”

“It was merely a suggestion,” she said. “I’m simply looking for someone.”

“You won’t find anyone welcoming of you here,” an older one who was sitting down by the door said.

“Yeah,” the young one was getting excited. “The Quorthon isn’t for Cymages.”

“I’m here to see Alva,” she said.

“Of course you are,” the older one said. “She’s not here anymore, though.”

“She’s gone, man,” the baby faced one laughed. “She betrayed us. She’s just like one of you, now.”

“Oh,” Trella paused, unable to move or to figure out her next move. “Do you know where she went?”

“Probably back to her Cymage masters,” he spat.

She simply turned around, ignoring the shouts from the Krigans while her head swam with the new information. There was only one place she could have gone and that would be to see Trallex. That was where she had to go—she had to find Trallex. If the Krigans had shunned her and found out about her augmentations, he was the only one she could turn to. This posed a major problem for Trella, but she resigned herself to it. This was not just for her, but for everyone.

025. Lost Time

Jace

Things in the stronghold were awkward after the departure of O’Neil and Trella, to say the least. Katrijn went quiet and Loren became engrossed in his work trying to save the whole damned world. For Jace, it was all about killing time. He was the pilot after all, not a political or war strategist. He was just there for moral support and one-liners, even though there wasn’t much to support or quip about anymore. It was just a lot of silence. His plan to depart slowly drifted off and became more of a dream than a reality. Leaving them while in such low spirits might just break them, even if he wanted out of there as quickly as he could.

He lay in his bunk, arms folded behind his head staring up at the cave ceiling. The stronghold was carved into a cave system and was accented by blast lines where they had to expand out a room. The room Jace had claimed as his own was one of those rooms that was part natural and part man made. After they had arrived in Krigar, all he had seen of the city—or even the planet for that matter—was the hangar, a few streets and now the inside of this cave. His thoughts were scattered, some of the time focusing on his deceased wife, the rest on how fucked they all were. Maybe he could convince Loren and Katrijn to leave with him, to just get the hell out and not look back. Not likely, but it still might be worth a shot.

It had been a few days since Trella had left them and while he had no hope for O’Neil coming back any time soon, there was at least some hope for her. But as the days dragged on without any sighting of her, it became clear that she wasn’t coming back and while no one was talking about it, it was very troubling. Had she turned on them? Was she hurt? Was she captive? Nothing was clear and everything was silent. That silence was deafening. Cutting and running felt like the best option now, and although neither Katrijn nor Loren would verbalize it, he could see the defeat in their eyes and movements.

Jace picked himself up, struggling to get out of the old bed in a sea of cots. It wasn’t anywhere near as posh as his quarters inside the Pequod, which wasn’t saying much, but at least he got a bed and didn’t have to sleep in one of those rough canvas cots. He scanned around for his boots and quickly pulled them on, still unable to break his habit of kicking them off as soon as he knew he didn’t need to be around anyone, even if inside of a cave it was a bit less inviting than on the carpet in the Pequod’s cockpit. The boots slid right on, and he quickly laced them up before picking himself up, standing up straight and walking out toward the common room where he found Katrijn sitting on a bench sharpening her knives and Loren scanning through a projection of data.

“So,” Jace said, breaking the silence. “What’s going on with you guys?”

“Oh, you know,” Loren said, not looking up from his readout. “Saving the world, that kind of thing.”

“I guess so,” Jace said, noting that Katrijn wasn’t talking. “Anything on Trella yet?”

“Look, Jace,” Loren finally looked away, locking eyes with him. “I’ll tell you if I find anything, but for right now, it’s nothing. Chances are she’s off with Alva right now and they are having a happy reunion.”

“Or she’s sitting in a cell in the palace being interrogated,” Katrijn said, focused on her knives.

“Naw,” Loren said. “I mean, maybe, but I’ve been monitoring the local chatter and I haven’t picked up anything yet.”

“And there hasn’t been anything from O’Neil at all?” Jace questioned.

“Other than us having to go it alone? Nope,” Loren replied.

“Then what the hell are we doing here, guys?” Jace was starting to feel frustrated with the whole situation. “We’ve gotta do something. I mean, we can’t just sit around here all day, can we?”

“Who says we are?” Katrijn said. “Loren and I have been combing through data, training and trying to come up with a plan of attack here…”

“Okay, but I’m just worthless, then?”

“No, of course not,” Loren said in a hushed voice. “I mean…”

“What am I even doing here? I’m a pilot and I haven’t heard either of you mention the need for some sort of heroic gesture involving me driving the Pequod into the palace or anything.”

“We’ll keep that one on the back burner, alright?” Katrijn said sarcastically.

“I’m not saying that, I just…”

“You don’t have to be here, alright?” She was clearly agitated. “Is that what you want to hear? Jace, we have a lot of things to do right now and stroking your ego isn’t one of them. You made it clear before that you planned to zip off toward Gimle and look for work, so this whole heroic gesture of sticking around isn’t doing anything for any of us.”

“I get it, I get it,” he said, feeling defeated. “I know where I’m not wanted.”

“Jace, gods dammit,” she shouted. “I don’t have time to babysit you right now. If we didn’t want you here you’d know it, just…do something, I don’t know.”

“Fine,” he said, feeling his emotions bubble up. “I’m going for a walk.”

“Where?” Loren asked, eyebrow raised.

“Outside.” Jace headed for the heavy blast door that led up the stairs into the abandoned warehouse.

“I wouldn’t advise that,” Loren said. “Everyone who has gone out that door hasn’t come back.”

“I guess so,” Jace said, pulling on the handle and feeling the light flow through the doorway. “I just need some air.”

The sound of the door slamming shut behind him was ominous, knowing that every time that door had clanged shut it was the last time they had seen whomever went out it. Their driver, O’Neil and then Trella were all gone and hadn’t bothered coming back, each for their own reasons. Now he was on the other side of that door and the feeling in his gut was telling him not to look back. There was guilt at leaving Loren and Katrijn in a lurch like this, but they weren’t exactly including him and had made it clear that this wasn’t his war to fight. He could very easily hop into the Pequod, fire up the engines, set a flight plan and not look back. The thought made his spine tingle.

The feeling of the warm Andliosian sun beating down through the old broken windows of the warehouse filled him with a new sense of life after spending so long down in that dank stronghold. He had a video feed of just about anywhere he wanted while down there, but seeing it and feeling it in person was just an entirely different experience. Krigar was his home, after all, even after all those cycles off on the fringes trying to run away.

He wasn’t overly familiar with this part of town, but had watched enough of the video feeds to know where he was and where he was going. Krigar was his home for most of his life, before Ro was taken and before he had the Pequod. There had been a good deal of people who cared about Jace before he just up and left and chances were good that they were still around, but the truth was that he couldn’t face them now just like he couldn’t face them then. There were things he needed to do, though—for himself and for closure’s sake.

There was a knot in his stomach that was only growing tighter and tighter while he stepped out from the old warehouse and into the fresh air. Jace sunk his hands into his pockets and walked through the old lot and out onto the street, taking a deep breath as he walked and walked off toward the old apartment he had shared with Ro. The building was still there, the monitors had told him that much, even the room was probably the same considering he had paid it off after he got that huge cash settlement, he just never thought he’d see it again. It was either go there or to the bay holding the Pequod and at least for now this didn’t feel like he was walking away from Katrijn and Loren just yet.

Katrijn

“Are we just going to let him go like that?” she asked, gripping her knife and sharpening stone tightly in her hands, feeling responsible. “He’s going to come back, isn’t he?”

“I don’t know,” Loren gave her a smile that felt less than sincere. “I just know he needs to do what he needs to do.”

“I get that,” she said. “But we are just going to let him walk out like that? Freyja,” she cursed. “First Uncle, then Trella and now Jace? Soon it’s just going to be me all alone down here and then what?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said. “I’ve got pretty strict orders from the Old Man to watch after you. So unless you decide to take off from here, I’m here as well.”

“While that is comforting,” she let out an exasperated sigh, “I shouldn’t have been so harsh on him. I should have begged him to stay, even…”

“He was getting a bit stir crazy,” Loren said. “He’ll be back, I mean, at least he should be back.”

“I’m not sure about that,” she said. “He was talking about hopping in his ship and taking off there for a while.”

“That’s up to him, Kat,” Loren said. “If that’s what he thinks is best for him then that’s what’s best for him, you know?”

“Now we’re down to two, though,” she said.

“It’s not like we were ever going to raise an army or anything,” he said.

“I guess that’s true,” she said.

“Anyway, try not to let it bother you, alright?”

She simply nodded at him and picked up the sharpening stone and her knife, the stone cold on her palm. The stronghold felt immense and lonely considering it was built for hundreds, even thousands of Krigan warriors to help defend the city of Krigar yet they were but two people sitting inside its great hall all alone, their every little movement lost in the endless echoes. Everything felt like an elaborate joke to her, a bastardization of the intent of such a stronghold to be filled with two people with big hopes and dreams. Then again, maybe it was a perfect allegory for their situation, she couldn’t tell. Her hopes and dreams alone could have filled that hall with dreams to spare.

One thing Katrijn knew was that she was here on Andlios to assume a position of power, to fulfill her destiny and her duty to her family and people by taking the throne from Cronus. Her father’s dying wish was for her to correct the wrongs and to help build a better future for the Andlios Republic, one that her father and uncle felt people simply weren’t ready for yet. In a way, he had passed on the most difficult task to her and she had ran. She had always convinced herself that it wasn’t her fault, that she had to run from Cronus or else she wouldn’t survive. Now that she was back in Krigar, she wasn’t so sure anymore, instead it felt like she had abandoned all of these people.

Even worse was the idea that Katrijn was supposed to instill confidence in these people. Why would they trust yet another Freeman after Cronus had been in charge for so long and done so much wrong? She couldn’t even help her friends out, as evidenced by the fact that it was simply Loren and herself tucked away in hiding just outside the city limits. Her uncle was gone, Trella was gone and now Jace had stormed off because she simply figured he’d be fine waiting for when she was ready.

That was what had initially driven her away from Andlios: not feeling ready to take the responsibility and stand up to Cronus. Things were about to change, she realized that, and it might come at a great cost, but she was going to make things right. At least she hoped she would. Her father’s anxiety had always struck her as odd, even though she had never really seen him suffer from it and he had always appeared strong and in control to her. Suddenly she was understanding what he went through, how the responsibility stacked up until it reached a critical mass while the eyes of the Republic were on him for answers.

The very idea of being a leader, even if it was just to push everyone in the right direction, felt overwhelming to her. Katrijn felt her mind wandering, the thought of failure looming heavily over her head like a sword of Damocles just hanging on by a thread, ready to bite her if she failed. Failure seemed imminent. Even Jace, a guy who had done everything he could for Katrijn and the rest, had been failed by her and was instead off in the streets, probably stewing over if he should just fire up the Pequod and burn away from the core and everything he was trying to leave behind on Andlios in the first place. In retrospect, it was kind of her fault he had to go through all of this. He deserved better.

“I have to go after him,” she broke the silence.

“Yeah, sure you do,” Loren laughed, still immersed in his screen. “While you are at it you should just be freely walking around the streets where everyone thinks you are dead. Pick me up a coffee while you are at it.”

“They think I’m dead, Loren,” she said. “They don’t know what I look like, do they?”

“Well, no…” he started. “Look, there are composites and—”

“Loren, I’m supposed to be a leader, am I not?”

“Of course, but look—”

“Then how can I be a leader if I can’t even keep my friends nearby without them storming off? What if he never comes back? Then what?”

“This is a small thing, Katrijn,” Loren began explaining. “If you are to lead, even if it is temporary and just to steer everything into the right direction, it’s going to take time and patience. It is about thinking about the bigger picture, this is small…I mean, I’m not saying that Jace isn’t important, but in the grand scheme of things, I just don’t know that this is important. He’ll come back if he wants to.”

“I’m sorry, Loren,” she said, placing the sharpening stone down next to her and hilting her knife. “But I need to do this.”

“Alright, alright,” he said. “I’ll get ready.”

“No,” she said. “I need to do this alone.”

“That’s not a good idea,” he warned. “Plus, I promised your uncle I’d keep an eye on you.”

“Then you can help me,” she said. “You have access to all these cameras and security systems. Help me track him down and make sure I’m not caught. The first place I should check is the Pequod, I think. I’m not sure where else he’d go.”

“I still have access to the grid,” he said. “I can pull it up and tell you where he’s headed, but we can both just keep an eye on him from down here, anyway. We can contact him if we want. There are ways that don’t involve you risking this whole operation and getting all emotional about it.”

“I’m going,” she said. “That’s the final word on this, Loren.”

“You aren’t going anywhere, Kat,” he said.

“Fine.”

Loren was by the books, if anything. There was no way he’d let her out of his sight, especially not up on the surface. Sure, her uncle was spotted almost immediately upon landing in Krigar, but she was different. To the best of everyone’s knowledge, she was dead anyway, but thanks to Alva, people weren’t exactly averse to seeing dead princesses these days. She had changed her appearance, though, she had done everything in her power to be different. Nobody would be looking for her on the planet, would they?

She returned to sharpening her knives, but was simply biding her time for Loren to go to sleep. He considered her a rational human being, especially after all this time being trapped together underground. His respect had been earned by her commitment to the plan and her ability to wait as opposed to rushing out into things. While she suspected he’d catch onto her, she still knew that losing Jace was too big of a hit, that the risk was just going to be one she’d need to take. She had to find him, to bring him back. If not for him, then for her.

026. The Ruler’s Folly

O’Neil

The new quarters O’Neil was tossed into was normal enough, much more posh than his previous accommodations but still a prison nonetheless. There wasn’t much he could do inside the quarters and they were still denying him access to any sort of communication equipment, which hammered home the point that he was a prisoner and not simply being held for his own safety. He knew better than to assume they were holding him for any reason other than to try to break him down and disrupt whatever he was doing. Cronus might’ve been cruel, but he was not a fool and knew if O’Neil had returned without warning then something was wrong.

O’Neil couldn’t help but feel defeated while he sat looking out the window overlooking what had previously been his garden. They had strategically placed him in a room that was in the wing adjacent to his old wing that overlooked the garden. It was no longer his garden, instead it had been torn up and replanted to look like the rest of the palace’s gardens. They were handled with care by the gardeners and contained some of their world’s most beautiful assortments of flowers and shrubbery. Even a few old Earth species had made it into these gardens, carefully curated and raised in special greenhouses after the Omega Destiny arrived. The gesture of placing him in a room overlooking the old garden was clearly an insult, meant to sting O’Neil. Cronus most likely felt it was clever to stuff O’Neil into this room, to show him that he had truly no power left in the Republic.

It still struck him as humorous that twice now he had to give up his prized garden that he had cultivated and cared for. Outside of his connection with the Freeman family there really wasn’t much out there left for him. The Andlios Republic was a product of his hard work, but Cronus had done more in his few cycles in power to destroy it than they had been able to do to build it up over Jonah’s lifetime. There was always a distant pang of regret deep in his subconscious that maybe he should have taken more credit for the building of the Andlios Republic, even if he preferred sticking to the shadows. Jonah was the figurehead who gave the speeches, but without O’Neil’s assistance, it all would have fallen apart in a hurry.

Night was falling and the watch was starting to let up in his room. They hadn’t provided him with any communications equipment, but they also hadn’t done a very thorough search of his person, either. They had taken whatever he had on him, but his augmentations went noted but untouched. The truth was they still didn’t truly understand much about Cydonian augmentation in the capital. Since it was looked down upon, there was a belief that it would be avoided, especially by high ranking officials such as O’Neil. The look on their faces when they saw the augmentations was one of shock, that was for sure. Without a doubt that would be reported up the chain of command and would become an issue for O’Neil, another thing to be suspicious of.

Since their knowledge of Cydonian augmentations was lacking, to say the least, they simply let him be. There was a built-in comm unit in his left arm, unbeknownst to them. That arm was custom built for him and had external sensors installed in it, the kind that Cydonians didn’t need because of their helmets that contained the cameras, microphones and technology to broadcast everything. What was built into O’Neil’s arm was lower tech, but still functioned just as well, at least for his own needs. The thought had crossed his mind at some point to take the augmentations further so that he could communicate without having to speak aloud, but there were some lines he didn’t feel comfortable crossing.

The problem, of course, was that standing next to the large wooden doors, dressed entirely in black, were two of Cronus’s guards. They were there to not only make him feel uncomfortable, but to ensure he didn’t do anything he wasn’t supposed to. “Hey fellas,” he turned to them, doing his best to look exhausted. “I’m gonna have to turn in here, would you mind giving me some privacy?”

“Prime Minister Giger told us to protect you, sir, that—”

“This is the Imperial Palace, nobody is getting in here,” he said, forcing out a yawn. “Look, you guys are guarding me, I’m not going to get in the way of that, I just need some shut-eye and it’s tough when there’s someone around.”

“Sir, it’s just that...” the guard started, but O’Neil raised his hand.

“Don’t you respect me? You know who I am, don’t you?”

“Y-yes, sir, we do, it’s just—”

“Then please, let an old man sleep.”

Without another word the door swung open and both men marched out, one pausing at the door. “Sir, if you need us,” he said, “we’ll just be on the other side.”

“Thank you,” he said, the door slamming shut behind them.

Getting the guards out of sight was only a small solution to a bigger problem, but he at least had some privacy to work with. There was a good chance that if he made a communication from inside the palace it would be traced or at least monitored, so calling Loren was out of the question. He did have operatives around Krigar and Andlios, though, ones he had worked with for many cycles. His comm unit was capable of making encrypted calls, but he knew how paranoid Cronus was and only imagined Giger to be just as, if not more, insane.

O’Neil peeled back a panel on his forearm, tapping in a few instructions. Sending a voice message, even with a higher level of encryption, would still not be secure, so he opted instead for sending text. Even if decrypted, they would have a hard time locating the source for it. In the coup, he typed. Inform Zeta to move forward without. His network of agents was able to work autonomously, so he had no fear of the message reaching Loren and Katrijn, the fear was what they would do when he wasn’t there to guide them. The message was sent to a small cluster of his operatives. There was some solace in the fact that if he wanted to be immediately sprung from his imprisonment all he would need to do was send a message, but the chances of that jeopardizing everything they had worked toward with Katrijn was simply too great, so he had to bide his time.

He trusted both of them with his life, no doubt, but he knew they were both dealing with enough at the moment to worry about him. Their backs were against the wall without him and they were trapped in an underground bunker without any semblance of a plan. Perhaps he should have waited a bit and helped them prepare more, but if he had, there was a better chance of him being tracked to the stronghold and the whole thing falling apart. He just had to have faith and wait. The harsh reality was that maybe he never really had much faith in Jonah operating on his own, then seeing Cronus in action only cemented how fragile the Freeman dynasty was. As much as he respected Katrijn, his faith in her was built upon a foundation of Jonah’s foolishness and Cronus’s madness, which all together worried him deeply.

Kara

Trallex had never been the closest friend of the family, nor was he someone Kara had ever truly felt comfortable around, yet in a situation like this he was invaluable. She sat in her own private quarters, the same quarters from when she still lived at the palace, with Trallex standing by the window gazing out of it. At least she assumed he was gazing out the window, his face was at least pointed toward the window that overlooked her own meticulously groomed botanical gardens.

“It’s beautiful this time of year,” she said to break the silence.

“What?” He turned toward her, the buzzing of his voice feeling more grating in the smaller room than it did inside the larger audience chamber. “Oh, right, the gardens.”

“Sorry, I assumed you were looking at them,” she said.

“No,” he said. “I was scanning the latest data from my people on that ring out by Gimle.”

“I didn’t know. I’ve always found it difficult to determine when it was appropriate to speak to a Cydonian that was deep in thought and when to leave them alone.”

“Odds are the latter is the better approach,” he said coldly. “Most of us communicate nonverbally, although when around humans we’ll be forced to verbalize.” The word “humans” sounded unnatural coming from him.

“I see,” she said, keeping her composure. “So what exactly can you tell me about this ring?”

“No offense, your highness, but I’m not sure my time is best spent discussing it with you.”

“As you said, I am the empress and I would like to know what is going on.”

“The truth is,” he said, “there isn’t much to tell yet. The technology is reminiscent of the technology that was used to beam Earth Ministry forces between two places.”

“I thought you said it was Cydonian in nature?”

“It is.”

“But we haven’t been able to mimic that technology yet and yet you are telling me that some Cydonian device out in the middle of space is utilizing a more advanced version of it?”

“More or less,” he said.

“But how?”

“We’ve posited that there is simply no way the Earth Ministry could have the technologies they have without Cydonian assistance.” The words “Cydonian assistance” hung in the air, setting off alarms in her mind.

“Cydonian assistance?” She was puzzled. “I thought you were the leader of the Cydonians.”

“Yes and no,” he said. “It’s not as simple as that. I am the voice of the Cydonians in many situations, but there are elements that work outside of our network; there are also those that were sent away…”

“Sent away? You mean like the Banished?”

“Yes,” he hissed. “The Banished, as you call them, are our prime suspects right now.”

“But how? That was over 1,000 cycles ago, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it was.”

“How, then?”

“We suspect they made contact at some point, although we are unclear of when or how. The records from the Omega Destiny confirmed that the Banished had at least headed toward Earth after they left here, although we don’t find any records of them being affiliated with Earth before the Omega Destiny’s departure.”

“Does that explain their advanced technology then?”

“Perhaps,” he said. “If Am’ranth or his other descendants are still alive, there is a chance they might be able to move things forward like this.”

“Am’ranth?” she laughed. “You mean from the old story about Am’ranth and Quorthon?”

“Correct.”

“That doesn’t seem possible,” she said. “That would make him over 2,000 cycles old; there’s simply no way he could still be alive.”

“Remember,” he turned to her. “That I am over 1,000 cycles old myself and it’s unclear when I’ll cease to be operational.”

“Don’t take offense to this or anything,” she said, looking to carefully tread the subject. “But how much of you is still human?”

“I am Cydonian,” he said. “My mind is still my mind, which means I am still Trallex, which is all that matters.”

“Okay.” She was trying to wrap her mind around the situation. “So what you are telling me is that a 2,000 year old Cydonian outcast, the guy known for building the bombs that turned this planet into shambles—”

“Do not forget also responsible for our early jump drives, the pulseaxe and is the father of Cydonian technology.”

“Of course, he has a complicated history,” she conceded. “But somehow he might still be alive and providing the Earth Ministry with technology. For what end?”

“To return home,” he said.

“How do you know, though?”

“Because when Am’ranth left he swore to me he’d come back, that he’d return Cydonia to its glory and have his revenge.”

“So you knew him, then?”

“Yes,” he said. “He was what you would call my father.”

“My gods,” her eyes widened. “I didn’t know that you could…”

“We do reproduce,” he said. “Not often, but not all Cydonians are clones. We do our best to reproduce as naturally as we can while we still can; most of the bioengineering happens through our DNA later on in our lives. I myself have ciphered a few offspring.”

“You?” She held back a laugh, smiling ear to ear. “You have children. I can’t quite imagine Daddy Trallex no matter how hard I try.”

“I am not sure what is so humorous about it,” he said. “It is perfectly natural.”

“Which is why it seems so against Cydonian way.”

“Then you still have a lot to learn about Cydonians, Your Majesty.”

“I guess so,” she said. “So what are we going to do about this, then?”

“Unclear,” he said. “But our predictions are that if it is indeed complete we could see activity at the ring any day now.”

“Does Cronus know this?”

“No, not yet. From what we’ve found it is better to relay information to Emperor Cronus when we are entirely certain, otherwise he is prone to rather…rash decisions.”

“True enough,” she couldn’t help but laugh. “I really wish I knew where I went wrong with him. You are a father, Trallex, tell me what I did wrong?”

“I…” He paused. “We do not raise children in the same way you do and I might not—”

“Oh, lighten up,” she said. “I was just joking. Oddly enough, some of that boy I helped raise showed through today. There might be hope yet.”

“Hope,” Trallex said, “from what I have found is usually misguided.”

“Hope is human,” she said. “Maybe you have evolved beyond being human—or maybe you are just a nihilist.”

“Either way,” he said. “If that will be all, Your Majesty, I have more data to sift through.”

“Of course, of course,” she said. “If there is anything else to report please come to me before Cronus, is that clear? I know you keep things from him, but you don’t keep things from me. Also, steer clear of Giger, I don’t trust him.”

“I’m not sure anyone should trust Prime Minister Giger, Your Majesty.” With that he exited the room, the door slamming shut behind him and leaving the feeling of a cold, empty void inside the room. What was clear to Kara was that things were piling up and she was less in control now than she ever was before.

027. Wild at Heart

Alva

Alva sat inside a cave, bringing back memories of her childhood living inside the stronghold with her father and his warband. This one wasn’t man made, though, it was a natural cave formation that still had stalactites hanging down from the ceiling and still had its dark corners that felt wild and untamed. Electric torches lined the walls, strung up along the sides and on the ceiling without much rhyme or reason. She was sitting on a purple-and-white striped pillow that leaned up against a wall, a fire pit filling up the central area of the cave while the man who appeared to be the leader of the group kneeled over it, stoking the fire with a stick.

“So,” she broke the silence. “Are you ever going to tell me your name?”

“It’s Zun’thir,” he said without turning back to her. “My name is Zun’thir and these are my Wild Ones,” he motioned with his head toward a few of the men and women who were curiously watching.

“I’ve heard about you,” she said. “From my father.”

“I’m sure you have,” one of the women laughed.

“That’s why you came here with a gift for us, then?” He turned back to her, sitting down with his legs folded in front of him. “Because your father told you about us? I’m not sure what you think that we do or who we serve…but we serve only the Zarr’nid people of the Zahira desert, not some false emperor sitting on a throne in Krigar, nor some Cymage that sullies our shared history.”

“My father was Tyr Hedlund,” she said defiantly, waiting to see the impact on his face.

“'Was’ is correct,” he said, scraping the stick in his hand across the dirt and forming a line between them. “Tyr Hedlund is dead, as for that matter, is Alva Hedlund.”

“I’m very much alive,” she said.

“I was at your funeral, then,” he turned the line in the dirt into an X. “I saw your father shoot a flaming arrow out into your coffin while it drifted on a canoe, hoping to send you to Valhalla.”

“Yet here I am.”

“Curious, isn’t it? How a girl can die yet show up at the mouth of my desert with a gift for me. How can this be?”

“Let me show you,” she said, rolling up her sleeve to show her partially-mechanical arm.

“Ahh, yes,” he said, unsurprised. “So you are one of Trallex’s great experiments then, aren’t you?”

“Experiments?” she asked, curious as to who else Trallex had invested so much time in.

“Yes, well,” he let out a sigh. “It was mostly just talk, we all thought, but the talk was that he was working on bringing back the dead. He was at it for cycles, making bold promises to some of our people. All he brought was pain, though. I’m not sure I can help you. We have no love for the Krigans nor the Cymages.”

“You have no love for Cronus Freeman, either, do you?” she said.

“Ahh, yes, now we get to the point now, don’t we?” He turned toward the rest that were listening. “Leave us now, we’ll need to talk in private for a few moments.” With the shift of his hand they dispersed, a few looking back at her in disbelief, but obeying his orders.

“They believe in you,” she said. “They’ll follow you to the ends of Andlios and back…”

“Because I stand for something, Ms. Hedlund,” he said. “I respected your father, you know that? The Krigans are and always have been foolish people. Conquerors, rewriting the history books to suit their own needs. They never took the desert, though, they preferred the serene coasts above all else. Did you know that over 50% of this planet is desert? The Zahira desert is expansive and these caves are not uncommon. This is where my people are now; we are few but these are our lands.”

“If you care so much about these lands then why the raids on everyone else?”

“We’ve been living off the land here for centuries now, but our numbers have thinned out. Promises and futures destroyed the once-mighty Zarr’nid people. The great wars happened and we watched, we waited, but then we waited too long, and now look at us. We’re a footnote. The Wild Ones are doing what we can for our people to survive and Cronus Freeman doesn’t miss the supplies we take.”

“The people in Cydonia and Speera might, though,” she said.

“Cydonia, ha,” he spat onto the X he had drawn in between them. “What once was a bridge between all of our people became a Cymage fortress and now it serves only to build an armada for our great ruler. Even now our people are leaving the deserts for the ‘security’ of a life in Cydonia building his warships.”

“Warships?” She looked at him puzzled. “Since when does Andlios have warships?”

“For the past few cycles they’ve been working on this project, recruiting our best and brightest, thinning out our ranks even more. That is why I formed the Wild Ones, not just to raid and provide for our people, but to remind them that we too are mighty and that we are free.”

“You are outlaws,” she said. “You are huddled in caves right now. Does anyone man the castle at Zunhar anymore?”

“It’s impossible,” he said. “Zunhar is in ruins, has been for many cycles now. We don’t have the manpower, supplies or tools to rebuild our great city, nor do we want to do so and simply wait for Freeman and the Cymages to come and force their laws and customs on us.”

“My point is, you were once mighty, one of the greatest empires in all of Andliosian history, don’t be a footnote. What I’m doing right now isn’t easy, but I’m looking to remove Cronus Freeman from power and to take back Andlios for the people.”

“That all sounds well and good,” he said, tossing the stick aside. “But it’ll just be the same old shit again. The Krigans rule the land and seas, the Cymages scheme and leverage their technology for power. The Helgeans have essentially abandoned this planet, have you noticed? Helgun is their home now, it’s easier that way for them.”

“So don’t let your people’s culture go to waste,” she said. “I’ve organized a resistance movement back in Krigar and yeah, it is mostly Krigans right now, but I don’t want it to just be about the Krigan people. This is about Andlios, this is about everyone.”

“Even your Cymage friends.” He pointed at her arm, which now felt naked, and she quickly covered it up. “Even for the puppet masters pulling the strings of this whole operation?”

“I promise you I’m not loyal to any one group of people, Zun’thir. If you help me, if you join up with us, it will show the people we are all serious, it will give them hope.”

“Hope from us, the scourge of the wastes and deserts fighting alongside their new fabled heroine?” He let out a chuckle and shook his head. “Why should my people die for this cause?”

“We can get you a new planet, a moon maybe, just like Cydonia has Cyngen and Helgea has Helgun. With time the Zarr’nid people can be powerful again.”

“No,” he said. “We don’t want another planet, we don’t want a moon nor do we care about your throne in Krigar. We want freedom.”

“Then help me and you’ll have your freedom.” She held out her hand toward him.

“This is all well and good.” He stared down at her hand as it hung in the air. “But I do not know if I can trust you, Alva Hedlund. You come here, alone, talking about the great army you are building to overthrow this regime, you come here alone, a dead girl brought back to life by one of the true villains of our time and offer your mechanical hand to me in partnership. I am sorry, but how can I trust you? We already have our freedom, anyway, out here in the deserts.”

“I brought a peace offering,” she said.

“Ah yes, the transport,” he nodded, unfurling his legs and standing up, dusting himself off while he stared back at the crackling fire. “A noble gesture, I suppose, but I’m sure Trallex funded that. If we need transports we simply take them, that is our way. Don’t get me wrong, we will make good use of it, but that is not much of a promise. That’s an expendable thing, a machine.”

“Then what would you have me do?” she asked. “If you consider raiding supply lines freedom then I’m not sure I have anything to offer.”

“Follow me,” he said, motioning for her with his hand.

“Alright.” She picked and dusted herself off, her legs feeling a bit numb from sitting on the ground and sitting in the transport for so long. He led her through a corridor, past a few offshoots—some lit, some unlit—without another word before coming upon another naturally-occurring offshoot with a blanket in a similar pattern to the pillow she was resting on hung over it for privacy.

Zun’thir pulled the blanket over just a small fraction before looking back at her. “Be quiet,” he said. “But look inside.”

“Okay,” she said, slowly pulling the curtain aside to see a small boy laying in a bed made of weathered wood and a beaten down mattress. He was young, looking no older than six or seven cycles with hair much like Zun’thir’s.

“That is my son,” he said in a hushed tone. “That is my son and he is dying.”

“Oh, I…” She paused, trying to compose herself. “I’m so sorry. What’s wrong with him?”

“The dreadlung,” he said.

“Isn’t that curable now?” she asked.

“Yes, it is,” he said. “The problem is that we are limited in resources out here. I’ve been doing my best on our raids to acquire the proper medication, but it has become more and more scarce or they shifted from land-based convoys to air ones, which we don’t have the means to raid. It’s more and more difficult to make it into either Cydonia or Speera, meaning that he has been getting worse and worse.”

“My gods,” she muttered under her breath. “There is just no need for this anymore. Why can’t you just take him into one of the cities for treatment?”

“We’ve tried,” he said. “I sent my wife with him but they refused to treat him.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s Zarr’nid.” The words hung thick in the air.

“That doesn’t seem right, it’s not like there aren’t Zarr’nids who live in Cydonia and—”

“They had all adapted, though. They integrated into society. My family went to them dressed as we do and were turned away.”

“So what can I do about that? I can’t fix this right now, this will take time, you and I both know that.”

“You have connections with the Cydonians,” he said. “If so, you can get help for Zum’il. If you can do that then yes, you’ll have the Wild Ones at your disposal. I’ll come personally with four transports and my best warriors and we’ll help you take the capital. You have a lot of promises to keep, though.”

“I understand,” she said. “I think I can probably make this happen.”

“Then you’ll have us at your side, Ms. Hedlund…”

“Thank you so much.” She was feeling overwhelmed.

“…But first, you must prove yourself trustworthy to us.”

Trella

Andlios was a strange place to Trella, something she had only known from a cold distance via projections and simulations. She knew what Andlios was like, knew population densities, radiation levels out in the wastes and even where there were small pockets of nomadic Zarr’nid people out in the deserts. Those were the people who linked back in the line of Cydonians, those were the people that Am’ranth had came from and were also the people that simply ceased to matter anymore. She was able to pull up a map of Krigar and guide herself away from the downtrodden area surrounding the Quorthon, but she still didn’t have a clue where she was going.

The answer was a simple one, considering how few people she actually knew on Andlios or even in Krigar—she had to reach out to Trallex. He had confined her to Cyngen and she knew she was probably considered a fugitive for departing the way she did, but he was the only one who would have answers. Trella could feel her body shaking ever so slightly and her readouts reported a spike in blood pressure and heart rate that forced her to have to dismiss the warning while she initiated a call to Trallex.

“Trella.” His image appeared on the periphery of her visor. He was sitting in what looked like a transport with an all-black interior. “Your locator seems to be malfunctioning, it is reading that you are on Andlios; in fact, it is reading that you are in Krigar just a few blocks away. Why are you not on network, why are you calling me through such archaic means?”

“There is no malfunction,” she said, finding it difficult to speak, her throat drying out. Her suit looked to quickly hydrate her to compensate, a flush of water bursting into her mouth. Trella swallowed hard before she continued. “I’m here, right now. I’m looking for Alva.”

“You were to have no further contact with Alva—I was explicit.”

“You were explicit,” she said. “I just did not agree.”

“There were no reports of you attempting to leave Cyngen, nor were there reports of your arrival. Why are we speaking like this?” he asked, his voice showing subtle signs of irritation. “Turn your network back on and contact me like a true Cydonian would.”

“I feel more comfortable being off the network for now. As for how I got here, I made some new friends,” she said, turning the corner and stepping over a man who was passed out on the sidewalk.

“So I’d assume,” he said. “I presume this is why all of these humans always complain about their offspring so often.”

“I thought my lineage was inconsequential,” she said, doing her best to ignore the rough looking men who were staring at her while she walked through the decaying part of town.

“I’m beginning to wonder that myself,” he said. “Impurities come from only cloning—we do need the occasional child born of flesh and blood alone. There are similarities I’m finding, though.”

“Oh?” She had never heard him speak like this before.

“I’m coming to find you,” he said. “In fact, I believe I see you now. Stay where you are.”

Trella turned around and saw a sleek-looking black transport barreling down the street, an eyesore amidst a street awash in decay. The vehicle came to a stop next to her and the door swung up and open, and Trella looked in and saw Trallex sitting on one side, and he motioned for her to enter the vehicle. “We need to talk,” he said.

She stepped into the transport, settling into the seat across from him while the door sealed shut behind her. “I need to find Alva,” she said.

“That is out of the question,” he said. “She is here on a mission and I believe you would compromise this mission.”

“Then you don’t understand,” she said.

“No, I don’t,” he replied. “Although maybe I am beginning to. For over a thousand cycles I’ve existed, I’m more machine than I ever was man, but you were the last offspring born of my seed. I had entrusted you with caring for Alva, for nurturing her because I saw in you the potential for empathy, although I thought you could control it better.”

“Emotions are not to be controlled,” she said. “I’ve learned that since I’ve known Alva, since I’ve watched her blossom into a woman.”

“So I’ve seen.”

“I know you know where she is, Father,” she said, understanding the weight of the word.

“I…” He paused, an uncharacteristic chink in the armor of the impenetrable Trallex. “I am sorry, Trella. I have failed you in many ways.”

“Then let me be with her!” The words escaped from her at terminal velocity. Trella quickly regained her wits and calmed herself, knowing that showing more emotion would only hurt her in Trallex’s eyes. “I’ve come so far and all I want to do is to assist her.”

“Every step is a step backwards for our people,” he said, turning away from her. “I am truly sorry for what I must do, but you cannot see her.”

They both sat in silence while the transport continued to traverse the city. Trella looked out the window and saw they were approaching the palace. Ornate banners hung from street lamps, the face of Cronus Freeman illuminated with a regal smile across his face. The streets were well lit as opposed to in the other part of the city, and the people were walking around freely, slowly and without care, their clothing immaculate and their demeanors calm. It was a contrast in every way.

“Where are we going?” she finally asked, the transport zipping through a gate toward the palace, through the gardens and into a door on the side of the palace.

“This is the palace,” he said.

No further explanation was needed while the transport moved into an open garage on the side of the palace. It was dark inside the garage but her mask quickly began making the proper adjustments just as the lights came on. The transport came to a halt and Trella saw a host of guards gathered around. “What is going on?” she asked, starting to feel a panic building inside of her.

“I am sorry, Trella,” he said. “I truly am.”

She acted swiftly, pushing the door open with a burst of strength, and it smacked the approaching guard across the jaw, sending him barreling into another guard and they both toppled over. Trella dove from the car, rolling forward onto her feet where she reached out and pushed another guard over from a distance, channeling what abilities she knew how to use of her augmentations, sending him tumbling into a table. Another was running at her with his pulseaxe poised, only for her to step aside and grab ahold of the hilt of the axe, and she guided him down to the ground with a clattering of his armor ringing through the garage.

“You do not harm her,” Trallex’s voice came from the transport, as he calmly stepped out.

“But sir—”

“You do not!” he said, and with a whoosh, the guard went flying back against the wall. Trella felt the axe being pulled from her hand and did her best to fight back, but she was no match against Trallex, who tugged the axe from her grip, sending her crashing to the ground.

A swarm of guards jumped on top of her, and she tried to scream out while she felt them securing her arms behind her back. She was being propped up on her knees, her hands bound while Trallex stood over her, appearing menacing with the pulseaxe in his grip. “Why?” she cried out.

“Because I cannot trust you,” he said. “Because you will ruin everything.”

028. Memory Lane

Jace

Some things had changed while others had stayed the same on the streets of Krigar. Walking these streets again felt different from up close and not via projection; the city was more personal and felt alive again. A part of him felt like he was suffering from a prolonged flashback, while the rest of him understood what he was forcing himself through. Returning to the home that he and his wife had lived in was probably not the smartest decision for a guy like Jace, but there wasn’t much else left for him to do after storming out of the stronghold.

Their old apartment hadn’t been his home in cycles, but after the settlement from Ro’s death, he was able to finally pay it off and not worry about payments anymore. The apartment was there, in perpetuity, a hermetically sealed time capsule full of memories and pain. Returning home shouldn’t be painful, either, it should be a happy time for him, but it hurt. He was going home, to a place full of great memories that he had shared with Ro, the place they called their home. Ro being dead didn’t mean those memories ceased to exist, it was just easier for Jace to deal with the pain from a safe distance, not from up close.

His intense feelings of anxiety and fear only led to him feeling worse about the whole situation. Everyone had told him to remember the good times, remember the good things about Ro and not to lament on how she died or suffered, yet it was impossible for him to shake those thoughts from his mind. She died for no good reason and both of their lives were ripped away from them in that instant. What followed for Jace was cycles and cycles of just shuffling through the fringes like he was already a dead man. Throughout all of it, he kept his name, he kept photos of Ro around and never really tried to start over or hide his past, he just ran from it.

The building stood in front of him, familiar yet alien, like a mirage or a distant memory he had tried to forget. It was warm outside, which helped the unfamiliar feeling, but it was their building he was standing in front of. The building was a few meters pushed back compared to the rest, a few bushes out in front and a set of glass double doors that swung open automatically when you stepped toward them. After what he saw while walking around the rest of Krigar all afternoon, he could only shake his head at the sight. A lot of people were living in poverty while he owned an apartment in a place like this and always felt that it wasn’t good enough for them.

The thought of simply walking by and not stopping passed through his mind; of just heading straight to the hangar, firing up the Pequod and not looking back. Still, curiosity and guilt got the better of him. Jace stepped forward, the doors parting before him and a rush of cold air escaping out into the heat of the day. Jace grimaced at the contrasting temperatures but embraced the coolness from inside. Everything was how he had left it, right down to the fountain in the lobby and the twin glass elevators in the front, adjacent to the front desk. He didn’t recognize the girl behind the front desk, but he didn’t expect to. She had a dark complexion and curly brown hair that fell over her eyes and only gave him a glance and a nod while he walked by. The glass elevator’s door on the right opened for him and he pressed the button for the third floor, and it accelerated gently and brought up him to his floor.

The smell in the hall brought memories rushing back to him; it was a mix of gardenias and ammonia from the wax they used to clean the floors and the flowers lining the lobby. Jace stepped onto the strip of carpeting that ran along the middle of the floor, away from the perfectly-waxed floors and walked through the hall, passing by each door until he reached the end of the hall, reading the numbers on the door quietly to himself. “325,” he said, pressing his hand against the lock, the door quietly unlatching and gently swinging open for him.

The ammonia and gardenia smell permeated thoroughly, the apartment smelling as such because of the weekly cleaning crew that was stopping by even in his absence. That meant that they hadn’t forgotten, it also meant that they kept the apartment in good condition, the same condition it was in before he left. A photo hung on the left wall right past the door of Jace and Ro on their wedding day, both of them standing in front of one of the Imperial Gardens with smiles illuminating their faces. It was the first thing that took his breath away, making this all feel like a nightmare he needed to wake from.

After taking a deep breath, Jace stepped one foot inside his apartment, his right boot crunching into the mat followed by the other. Memories were everywhere inside, the light blue walls they had painted together right after they moved in, the dark gray carpeting he had fought her on and won, right down to the burnt orange couch that sat in the middle of the main room. Everything was how he had left it and he wasn’t sure how to process all of it.

Life continued on without either of them and it was difficult to comprehend sometimes. The apartment was a time capsule for another person at this point. The man who had lived there was Jace Krios, the happily married man who worked as an Imperial Transport driver. That man lived with his beautiful teacher wife and were planning a bright future together, not Jace Krios the ghost of a delivery man who never touched the core planets. Now this Jace had to come to terms with the Jace of his past and was doing so by sinking into the couch and closing his eyes.

Jace rooted around in his pocket for his holoscanner and pulled it out, powering it back up and tossing it aside. He had done what he needed to do, now he needed to see if he had missed anything. The alarm on it made him jump, since he didn’t expect to hear from anyone. When he glanced down at it he saw a slew of messages from Katrijn, the last one standing out to him the most—I’m coming to find you. I’m sorry.

He couldn’t help but let out a sigh.

Katrijn

The air was thick with humidity and warm—much warmer than it was down inside the stronghold. It was almost indescribable for Katrijn to once again be standing out on the streets of Krigar after so many cycles on the run. This was her home, the place she was not only supposed to rule over, but also to nurture and help to grow into her father’s vision of the Andlios Republic. It was early summer so the trees and flowers were all in bloom, which was especially noticeable out near the tattered edges of the great city of Krigar. Loren had fallen asleep early, but Katrijn had waited a while before quietly sneaking out the door into the early evening.

The contrast between the broken down old factory and parking lot she found herself in and the great trees and bushes that had grown naturally out behind it was not lost on her. The farther out you went from the city, the more life both flourished and floundered. For a few kilometers there would be wildflowers, trees and animals everywhere until the sudden drop off where the wastes began. Then it was kilometers and kilometers of nothing but burnt soil and vast nothingness. Her father had described traversing those wastes when he had first arrived there with Alva, how they needed to take anti-radiation medications and to always be monitoring their radiation levels. That was still true now but fewer and fewer ever ventured out into those wastelands thanks to how vast the major cities had become, or if they did, it was via shielded transport.

Katrijn pulled out her holoscanner and tapped into the city’s map, with a marker from Loren’s tracking with the location of Jace’s holoscanner. The marker was deeper into the city, in fact, quite near the heart of the city in one of the nicer districts. Katrijn felt ashamed that she had forgotten the names of all of the districts in Krigar, something that she had been drilled on repeatedly by her father growing up, as he explained to her that it was important to know everything about their people. It later turned into knowing every sector of the Andlios Republic, down to the planets and moons they inhabited. She wracked her mind for the answer and remembered that it was called the Lynae District for the small blue flowers that grew natively there.

The Lynae District was a nice area, a shockingly nice area at that. She had never expected someone like Jace to live under such luxurious conditions considering how he had lived aboard the Pequod. The district was also a little over an hour and a half walk away, which she groaned at. Her first instinct was to call Loren and ask for him to find someone to drive her, but then remembered that she had snuck out in hopes of avoiding telling Loren about her flight from the stronghold. She hadn’t even remembered the name of the Lynae District, and that gnawed at her subconscious. She wanted to be a better ruler than Cronus was, not lazy and cutting corners already. The thought of walking throughout the city that she was forced to abandon and had forgotten lots about in her flight to freedom felt like a penance of sorts; apologizing to the people that she could have spared if she had just had the courage to stay.

All of this, of course, had to be kept away from Loren. There was enough on Loren’s plate and she was worried about him being able to handle the situation. There had been pressure on Loren before, that much was clear even through the playful demeanor, and with her uncle locked up, everything was resting on his shoulders now. It didn’t feel fair to Katrijn that everything was relying on one guy she had only met weeks prior, but situations like this were fluid and her uncle had done his best to account for everything.

Her walk through Krigar was illuminating, if not a bit scary. She had been concerned about running into security forces or even Cronus’s elite guards but found very little anywhere to be seen throughout more of the downtrodden areas of the city. What she saw instead were people, sick and tired looking people simply sitting around during midday looking destitute. While she knew that things were bad, never did she imagine that they would be this bad throughout the city. These people weren’t just sick and oppressed, they were abandoned completely. People within Krigar, the capital of the Andlios Republic, were forgotten about and left to starve and fend for themselves. The very thought made her stomach turn.

“Watch where you are going, girl’o,” an older man with a long grey beard and a sun-worn face said as Katrijn almost tripped over him.

“Oh, sorry,” she said.

“Sorry, huh?” He spat and picked himself up. He wasn’t a small man, by any means, but he didn’t look healthy, either. “Looks like you are lost bein’ ‘round here anyway if you ask me. What’s a sweet 'lil thing like you doin’ here? Does yer daddy know you’ve been slummin’ it?”

“No,” she said, the man immediately hitting a sore spot and her unable to hide her anger. “He’s dead.”

“Aww does that upset ye? In yer fancy clothes and flaxen hair, I’m sure this life has been cruel to you.”

“You don’t even know, old man.” She began walking away from him.

“Who said ye could leave? Can’t you see that I’m a poor man? I just need some help is all.”

“I can see that,” she said. “Just like I can see that you have no manners.”

“Manners?” he chortled, shifting to standing in front of her. “It’s folks like you that make me sick. I’m sure Cronus takes good care of you and yer own.”

“Fuck Cronus,” she snarled, pushing his hand away from her shoulder. “I’ve taken nothing from him and will see him fall.”

“I’m sure that ye will because ye all look out for folk like me, don’t ye?” He reached out and grabbed her shirt, pinning her against the wall. “This shirt could sell for a pretty penny, I suppose, don’t ye? I could feed meself for weeks off of it.”

“Or I could break your elbow and you’ll never be able to work again,” she said.

“Not like I can find any,” he said. “Matters ‘lil to us out here.” His grip tightened and she could feel eyes from all around on her, none coming to aid her.

“This isn’t going to end well,” she warned.

“Oh dearie,” he laughed. “Ain’t nothing ends well here.”

“I came here to help everyone, you know.” She took a grip of his wrist, not wanting to hurt him but seeing no other way. “I came here to help you.”

“I don’t want yer help!” he snarled. “I just want ye—AH!”

She tugged at his wrist, turning his arm over with a quick jerk before rotating in toward him, draping his arm over her shoulder. One quick motion later and she had pulled his arm down toward her chest, his elbow hyperextending over her shoulder before she heard the snap, pop and his bloodcurdling scream. She buried her other elbow into his stomach and sent him crashing to the pavement, crying out for help and clutching at his arm.

“Ye fuckin’ bitch!” he said, quickly recoiling while she approached. “No, no, don’t hurt me!”

“Fuck off,” she said before reaching into her pocket and tossing a few loose credits down at him. “Call yourself a doctor and don’t let that heal wrong or you’ll never be able to use it again.”

She had drawn enough attention to herself already and she quickly turned and picked up her pace heading toward the Lynae District where Jace was. Her head was now swimming and her heart was pounding. She knew that things were bad, but actually encountering one of the downtrodden painted everything in an entirely different picture. They weren’t simply going to rally around Katrijn Freeman because she wasn’t Cronus or because she promised to be good to them. These people were far more damaged than she had ever imagined they would be and it was going to take a lot more than promises and money to fix the cycles of abuse. How could she possibly help these people if she couldn’t even relate to them? Not only had she failed her friends, but she had no connection to her home and its people anymore, although she was starting to doubt that she ever did. At least she hadn’t lost a step, she reminded herself.

By the time she arrived at the building where Jace’s holoscanner was broadcasting from, she was dotted in sweat, her shirt sticking to her back and her knives chafing against the lower part of her back. The building took her by surprise; she had known that it was in the Lynae District, but didn’t expect it to be so nice. Every district had its own sub-districts and even the nicer ones had cheaper housing for those who worked within said district but only made a working wage. The thought dawned on her that she considered Jace her good friend now, so much so that she found herself chasing after him, but she didn’t know anything about him, like why he lived in such a district and how he got such a nice home. What had he done for work before he acquired the Pequod?

Katrijn walked toward the door, waiting for them to open up only for them to stay closed. She looked around and saw a panel on the wall. She reached out and activated it, and the face of a dark-skinned girl with long curly hair appeared on the screen.

“Can I help you, ma'am?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m here to see Jace Krios.”

“Krios?” the girl asked, looking down at her own panel. “He does not seem to be expecting any visitors or else he would have told us.”

“It’s okay,” she smiled, very self aware of how sweaty she looked at that moment. “I’m a friend, just tell him that Kat is here.”

“I’m sorry, ma'am,” the woman shook her head. “But from our records, Mr. Krios is not here and hasn’t been in a very long time.”

“No, he’s there,” she said. “I tracked him here and—”

“Ma’am,” the girl said. “He has no appointments; don’t make me call security.”

“If I could just talk to him really quick I’m sure that—”

“Ma’am!” The girl raised her voice, the feed cutting out and Katrijn feeling the rage boil up inside of her.

“Gods dammit!” she shouted, motioning like she was going to kick the glass door only to catch herself and slink away from the door. She sat down on the steps, catching her breath and realized that she was an hour and a half away from Loren. “Gods dammit,” she said again. “Today is not my day.”

“Miss,” a gruff voice came from behind her, the doors open and two guards standing there with their hands on their holsters. “You are going to need to come with us.”

“What?” She picked herself up and began to back away. “No, no, I didn’t do anything, I was just leaving and—”

“Miss!” The one on the right was advancing on her. “Patrice in there told us a few troubling things, we need to talk to you for a bit, but—”

Katrijn quickly reached for her knives, but was exhausted and knew that she was getting sloppy. She pushed forward, jamming her shoulder into the one on her right, only for the one on her left to unholster his weapon and for her to feel a quick pinch followed by a pulse of energy that knocked her down to the ground. The next thing she knew she felt her hands being held behind her back and cuffs being slapped onto her wrists.

029. Systematic Failure

O’Neil

After a lifetime of always being in demand, it felt truly unsettling for O’Neil to find himself simply sitting and waiting. He was beginning to feel obsolete, like his time had come and gone, and now he was just a feeble old man without a purpose. Aboard the Omega Destiny, he was Captain Peter O’Neil, the man who was to lead everyone to the promised land of Omega. Things didn’t quite work out as they had planned, but when they did get to their new home, he was just as vital to society as the prime minister as he was as the captain. On Andlios he was Prime Minister Peter O’Neil, the most-feared and respected man in the whole Republic, known to some as the “shadow emperor.”

The thought of him being some sort of evil maniac with secret machinations to rule the known universe had always been amusing to him. The opportunity was there for him, in fact it was in front of him numerous times throughout his life. All it would have taken for O’Neil to seize power would be a few calls and uttering a few phrases and it would have all been in his command. Jonah was, at the time, the better option, though. Not because he was a great leader or even a wise leader but instead because he was a believer. Nobody had such blind faith in humanity and committed to an ill-formed plan like Jonah, yet people followed him at every step thanks to his enthusiasm and that unyielding belief.

O’Neil was at times himself that naive and silly in his beliefs and convictions, but he was more of a realist. There was a part of him that wanted to be like Jonah Freeman and to simply believe, but the cynicism always snuck into the back of his mind and came with the doubt. That was why he left the job of the public figurehead to someone else, it just didn’t suit him. Never mind that if he had been the figurehead of the Andlios Republic he’d probably be dead already. The emperor of the Andlios Republic having Cydonian augmentations to keep his heart pumping and lungs pushing air throughout his body was not exactly something that was seen as acceptable behavior. The people of the Andlios Republic had a long way to go before they’d accept the Cydonians, even if Cydonian tech could, in moderation, help improve the quality of life for everyone.

O’Neil’s augmentations just made his own life in the shadows make that much more sense. By living longer than his body had planned to let him live, he was able to help guide the future of the Andlios Republic. Of course, somewhere along the way everything went wrong and he was now residing inside a room in the palace under armed guard awaiting whatever Cronus and Giger would decide to be his fate. It felt ironic in a way that he had spent so much time dedicated to ensuring that other people would be alright and to fail as miserably as he had. The people of the Andlios Republic were not happy, nor were they taken care of and while he had slept at night by telling himself that he had done everything in his power, it still didn’t feel like enough. Now Katrijn and Loren were sitting inside a stronghold trying to figure out a way to hatch a plan to take over and he was just waiting.

The sound of the door opening took him off guard, breaking him from his thoughts only to look up and see Giger striding into the room. There was an awkward silence between the two while Giger stood straight and tall, staring down at his predecessor with a smirk on his face. O’Neil would love for nothing better than to drive his fist into Giger’s temple just to see his facial expression, but he restrained himself. “Prime minister,” he nodded.

“Yes,” Giger said apprehensively.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” O’Neil asked, trying to hide the disdain in his voice.

“I was thinking about what to do with you, Mr. O’Neil,” he began pacing. “A part of me thinks that we should make an example of you.”

“Oh?”

“But truly that would paint you in an important light, wouldn’t it? I’m not sure that is the right move here, Mr. O’Neil.”

“I’m not sure I care anymore, Mr. Giger—”

“That’s Prime Minister Giger,” he corrected him. “You’ll remember that. I promise you.”

“Prime Minister Giger,” he said. “I’ve devoted my life to the Andlios Republic and while you’ve advised Cronus I’ve watched it all crumble. At this point, I’m not sure that I want to be associated with any of this anymore.”

“Because you are a proud man, aren’t you Mr. O’Neil? You are a proud, proud man who has achieved so much while the rest of us have just been floundering around like fools, correct?”

“That’s exactly what—”

“That’s exactly the kind of thing a proud man would believe, Mr. O’Neil,” he stepped closer, whispering into his ear. “You see, Mr. O’Neil, I know your secret.”

“Secret?” O’Neil jerked back, Giger’s hand on his shoulder keeping him in place.

“Yes, you see…”

There was a quick stabbing pain in his chest, a shock wave ran through his body and O’Neil felt very weak like he was about to pass out. He glanced down at his chest and saw Giger’s hand covered with blood, the hilt of a knife in his hand, the blade buried deep inside of him. “What…What did you…”

“Calm down, calm down,” he hushed O’Neil, sharp pains jolting through his body while he slid the knife out, letting O’Neil tumble over into a heap. “You see, this is a weapon that we developed to defend against the Cymages. It is a knife that emits an electromagnetic pulse that disrupts electronic systems, much like the ones inside you. Oh yes, Mr. O’Neil,” he kneeled down next to O’Neil, taking out a rag and wiping the knife clean on it. “I’ve been monitoring this room and I’ve seen what’s inside you. Wouldn’t everyone love to know that the honorable Peter O’Neil was full of marvelous Cydonian technology?”

“Gods dammit,” O’Neil grunted, struggling to breathe.

“Oh suck it up, O’Neil,” Giger stood over him, a menacing figure for once, the knife still in his hand. “You’ll be fine. How long do you think you can live on a damaged ticker and lungs? I’m eagerly awaiting the results of this little experiment.”

“I need…” O’Neil was trying to pick himself up, but his body was failing. “I need tools, I need a doctor.”

“Here,” Giger tapped a few times on his holoscanner. “I’ll have them bring you some diagnostic tools, that’ll do, won’t it?”

“I can’t….” He was starting to finally catch his breath, but it felt like at least one of the lungs was punctured, so he took shallow breaths. “Not on my own.”

“That’s how we all come into this world and leave it, Mr. O’Neil,” Giger strode toward the door with a newfound confidence, sheathing the knife.

O’Neil tried to pull himself up but felt his strength faltering. A sound of footsteps from the door made him crane his neck to look out, seeing two guards walking in with a case. One of them dropped it down next to him without a word before both turned and walked away. “I can’t believe it,” he overheard one say to the other. “The Old Man turned himself into a Cymage? I guess they were right, we can’t trust him.”

Kara

The longer Kara sat in the palace the more she got the impression that things had spun out of control and that there was no turning back for any of them. Cronus was becoming startlingly distant as the mounting tensions rose in the Republic, and the only silver lining she saw to that was that he was becoming more lucid and aware of what was really going on. It had been cycles since she had seen Cronus this aware of what things were really like outside of the protective bubble he lived inside of. She felt guilty for only adding to that bubble throughout most of his life, for keeping him away from the people of the Republic and what their lives were really like. Perhaps he would have been able to empathize and be more human if he had seen the people close up instead of through the many filters that life inside of the the palace had provided.

The difference between how her children were raised and how she was raised felt overwhelming, although upon reflection, she was more privileged than others were. Jonah had always talked about how life aboard the Omega Destiny was miserable, oppressive and how he’d fight for the rest of his life to ensure that those under his rule wouldn’t have to live a life like that. The Omega Destiny had never seemed that bad to her growing up—in fact she had everything she could have ever wanted. The thought had crossed her mind of how the way they were brought up influenced how they were as parents; Jonah was more attentive and tried to spend every last moment with Katrijn, while Kara was good and loving to Cronus, but focused on his wants and desires. Parenting like that was never their intention, it just broke down like that when they were left to their own devices.

Kara felt like a failure seeing how Cronus had turned out, but what was done was done. Parenting felt like the least of her concerns after she was briefed by Trallex on that strange gate out by the Gimle system. Everything was crumbling around them and Kara’s power had been stripped from her before she ever had a chance to use it. In a way it felt ironic that she held power for so many years but when she could have actually used it to accomplish something, it was no longer within her grasp, instead it was just out of reach. There were no implicit restrictions upon her, but she knew that returning to Andlios unannounced was a risky plan. If it meant that she could possibly fix something, though, it would be worth it. She hoped.

Her holoscanner blared behind her, Kara quickly turning to look at it to see that it was Jack requesting a link to her. She clicked accepted and saw a projection of Jack, who looked haggard. “Jack?”

“Kara,” he said, pausing slightly thanks to the lag between Andal-3 and Andlios. “Gods damned, there is always this lag that I forget about. I’m just going to talk then. It’s Peter, he’s been captured by Cronus. He’s in the palace right now and by the looks of it, you are there as well. I’m not sure if you are able to do much, but I think he’s in trouble.”

A pregnant pause filled the space, Kara understanding that it was her time to talk, but she didn’t quite know how to respond. “Okay,” she said. “I’m not sure what I can do, but I’ll try to see what is happening. So he’s here?” Kara’s heart began thumping in her chest. “Does that mean that Katrijn is here as well? Has she been captured?”

Another long pause filled the space between them, and it was very clear that there were light years between them. She could read Jack’s face while he listened to her message and began formulating a reply. “No word on Katrijn,” he said, and Kara felt a wave of relief. “But I’m worried about Peter, Kara. He’s…well, he’s been modified quite a bit and we both know how proud he is. If someone were looking to use something against him that’d be a good place to start. They won’t hurt him, I don’t think, they’ll look to make a fool out of him. This Giger has been behind a lot of these political shifts and as much of a jackass as he seems to be, he’s a dangerous guy. Be careful if you do do anything. Also, these walls have ears, Kara. This call was encrypted, but unless you can pull together an encrypted line of your own, stay off the comm channels.”

With that his image disappeared and Kara once again found herself alone inside the palace, knowing that after the years of comfort,  she’d once again need to gather up the courage to try to make a difference. The last time she had done so she was sent off to Andal-3 where she’d be out of the way and they had hoped out of their affairs. Her return wasn’t entirely unexpected considering the invitation extended to her, but it had been perhaps sent in bad faith, just ceremonial. This resulted in her being closely watched and kept at arm’s length.

Kara picked herself up and took a deep breath, knowing that she had to go directly to her son and attempt to get around Giger at all costs. She propelled herself forward, pushing open the two great doors and ignoring the two guards who were standing out in the hallway.  They began following her and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. “I know you are doing your job,” she said without looking back, “so I won’t take this personally, but I’m going where I’m going. You’ll need to lock me up to stop me.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” one said. “We are simply instructed to protect you.”

“Inside the Imperial Palace?” she asked. “Strange times, indeed.”

There was no reply while she strode down the hallways toward the audience chamber, knowing that Cronus would be there tending to whatever matters had arisen. Disposing of the Senate might have seemed like a brilliant idea at the time, but neither Giger nor Cronus had realized just how much was handled by the other branches of government. She was actually surprised they hadn’t delegated handling of certain responsibilities to her. She was in charge of Andal-3, but Andal-3 rarely ever had issues to deal with and Jack had been dealing with most of the moon’s issues for a long time before she was ever assigned there, so he’d continue to do so now.

The doors to the audience chamber were open already, Kara and her two guards simply striding in while the other guards looked on, assuming they belonged there. Inside Cronus was sitting on his throne, face in his hand and a look of frustration lining his face. There was no sign of Giger, which was a good thing, but a slew of projections sat on the opposite wall, voices coming from each toward Cronus while he watched. He turned and saw her, simply nodding toward the empty chair next to his. She stepped up onto the dais and sat down next to him, in the spot that had been reserved for her in the past.

She sat quietly, listening while shipping magnates bickered over trade routes and slowdowns in service, complaints starting to pile up about having to avoid doing business through the Gimle sector in particular. Things were escalating and it was becoming more and more difficult for Cronus to keep it all under wraps. At this rate, shipping companies would be taking shortcuts through the Gimle sector without clearance—if they weren’t already—and they’d see for themselves that things were going wrong there.

After Cronus dismissed them he took a deep breath and turned to her. “I assume you have a problem that I must attend to urgently as well, mother?”

“Am I really that easy to read?”

“No,” he said. “It’s just that it seems like no one talks to me unless they want something of me these days.”

“That’s what it’s like to be in charge,” she said softly. “Your father dealt with the same thing.”

“Well we all know that father was a saint, now don’t we.” He was agitated, as always, at the mention of his father.

“This isn’t what I’m here to talk about,” she said. “But we can’t hide what is happening by Gimle for much longer. They are going to find out sooner or later, then what? I feel this whole Gimle situation is spiraling out of control. What do we do if that is really a gate and Earth starts sending forces through?”

“I’m handling it,” he replied.

“I don’t think that you understand, what if—”

“I’m handling it!” he shouted. “My war fleet is being worked on right now, as we speak, Mother. Father never thought it was prudent to make such preparations, which left us woefully unprepared for a possible war like this.”

“Because he was careful, Son,” she said in a soft voice. “He knew not to poke the hornet’s nest.”

“It was a different time,” he said. “Now is a time of action.”

“We raised you better than this, Cronus,” she said, tears welling up in her eyes. “Or was it I who failed you?”

“I’m the emperor of the Andlios Republic and no, it is not as cut and dry as when Father ran things,” he looked away from her. “You should be proud, or maybe that is too difficult. Why are you here, anyway?”

“I’ve heard troubling news,” she said. “I’ve heard that your uncle is back and that you have…imprisoned him.”

“He is in the palace,” Cronus said. “We’ve detained him and suspect him of being part of a conspiracy to overthrow the government.”

“Cronus,” she said cautiously. “You know that is a mistake. He has always wanted to help you, you just never let him. You have to believe me, this situation is only going to get worse and your uncle could help.”

“I do not need his help, mother,” he turned to her and snarled. “Nor do I need your help, either. Guards,” he snapped his fingers at them. “Return the empress regent to her quarters and see to it that she rests.”

“Gods dammit, Cronus!” She sprung from her chair, turning to her son. “Can’t you see? Cronus!”

He simply waved at her and turned away, and she felt the guards tugging on her arms and pulling her from the dais.

030. Zahira Nights

Alva

The Zarr’nid kept a low profile, existing solely inside their intricate series of caves throughout the Zahira Desert. Sadly for Alva, the beds they were accustomed to were quite different from the beds that she was, especially the one in her apartment that Trallex had given to her. In a way, it felt like penance for Alva to be sleeping on a tough, flat cushion laid out on top of the ground inside a cave. She wasn’t sure who she was asking forgiveness from, but she had lost her way and let herself be used by those around her. Things felt different inside the Zarr’nid cave after seeing how they lived and struggled through their daily lives. They weren’t fighting back or trying to conquer anything, they were simply doing what they needed to do to survive.

“Hi,” a small voice came from the other side of the blanket that served as a partition to her sleeping area. Alva looked up and saw the boy Zun’thir had shown her the night before.

“Hi,” she smiled warmly up at him. “Zum’il, right?”

“Yeah,” he said bashfully. “My dad told me I should wake you up, he’s gonna go on another raid tonight.”

“Oh, thanks Zum’il,” she picked herself up and stretched. “Where is your dad, anyway?”

“He’s outside preparing that new transport, want to come see?”

“That’d be great.” Alva followed the boy as he strutted through the caves, saying hi to the various people they passed by in between coughing fits. Her heart dipped each time he coughed, imagining that without help he’d die from asphyxiation within a few cycles, possibly even sooner. What she hadn’t seen the previous night when she arrived was just how many elderly and children were around. The Wild Ones themselves seemed limited in numbers, but the people that came with them were in the hundreds at least. There could be thousands, even, scattered across the vast cave system in the Zahira.

Outside the sun had risen and it was already scorchingly hot and dry out beyond the cave. Zum’il paused at the mouth of the cave and pointed out toward his father. Alva thanked him and sent him back inside before trekking out into the morning sunlight toward the Wild Ones, who were working away on the new transport; a woman younger than Alva with short cropped black hair wearing a few pieces of leather armor stood in all of her bronzed glory atop the transport with a pulsesaw in hand, working away at the roof of the transport. Alva watched her as if she was in a trance before she heard someone behind her.

“We’ll make good use of that transport yet.” Zun’thir was standing there with a steaming mug in his hand.

“Is that coffee?” she asked.

“That it is, would you like some?”

“I would, but it’s already hot enough out here, and I’m not sure I can handle any more.”

“Oh, that,” he said. “You get used to the heat after a while. We’ll have that transport ready for tonight’s raid, at least.”

“Raid?” Her interest was piqued. “What will you be raiding.”

“We’ll be raiding a convoy headed into Cydonia for supplies.”

“We?” She noted his tone.

“Yes,” he said, motioning back toward the cave. “How else can we know if we can trust you or not, Princess Alva? You must become one of us.”

“I’ll do whatever it takes,” she said. “As long as this isn’t some trick where you intend to hang me out to dry. There’s been a lot of that lately.”

“That is not our way. If Zun’thir and his Wild Ones make a promise to you, that is a promise that will be kept. You will ride with me and tonight we will see what you are made of.”

“Just tell me what I have to do.” She swallowed hard. Alva knew it wouldn’t be as simple as making a big promise to the Wild Ones and have them ready to help her.  That being said, she hadn’t imagined helping them on a raid. This wasn’t an ideal situation, but if it was what she had to do, she would gladly help out on a raid.

Throughout the rest of the day, Alva was simply another cog in the machine that was the Wild Ones. She helped convert the transport she brought to them as a gift into a Wild Ones chariot, although she wasn’t clear if it would be christened on the raid that night or not. Seeing Zun’thir interact with his gang firsthand was quite an experience. Alva had been around leaders before—in fact, she had been around leaders for most of her life before her death and resurrection. Most girls in a position of power like her would have been kept at arm’s length, protected and groomed to be a proper lady. Her father felt that Alva would take the reins from him eventually, so he kept her very close to him, even when he chose to live in a stronghold with his most trusted men while at war with the Fourth Fleet.

Tyr’s style of ruling was that of awe and benevolence, but he was still very much the leader and tended to keep a fair distance from the rest of his warband. They loved him and were willing to do anything for him, but he still didn’t spend much time with them unless he had to. Instead, he chose a more secluded existence that helped to build up an aura of invincibility. Zun’thir on the other hand was just another of the Wild Ones, working with them side-by-side and in places simply assisting and letting others take charge of the conversion process. The Wild Ones still treated him with reverence and respect, but Zun’thir was unafraid to appear human with the men and women of the Wild Ones.

Alva just sat and watched him for a while before he approached her, wiping the sweat from his brow and taking a pull from his skin of water. “That transport will do nicely.” He tossed the skin down to her. “No matter what happens, we are grateful for the gift.”

“I’m glad you like it,” she said.

“You were pretty handy out there.” He stared back at his group loading up weapons and supplies onto the transports. “Maybe you don’t have to throw your life away to try to get out of your father’s shadow.”

“Maybe. It’s more than that now, though.”

“So it is.”

“I made a promise and I intend to keep it.”

“Truly a noble calling,” he said, kneeling down next to her. “But a ruler without an understanding of his or her own people is no ruler at all.”

“I noticed how you are with the Wild Ones,” she motioned toward them. “You weren’t afraid to let them take control in a few cases.”

“Why wouldn’t I? Jum’en is a far better mechanic than I, I feel honored to assist her in tuning up an engine. I’d be foolish to handle it myself and do only half as good of a job.”

“I get that, but that doesn’t mean you have to hand her tools. You could have anyone else do that.”

“But why?” He looked at her earnestly. “I was right there, everyone else was busy, so why would I not help Jum’en work her magic? There is no job I am too good for. True leadership, Princess Alva, is not simply about appearing above everyone else or inspiring them, it is being one of them and being reliable as well. There are many facets to being a leader.”

“I feel like I’m kind of learning on the job right now.”

“In a way you are,” he said.

“I’m not sure I feel ready, though. I went to what was left of my father’s men in Krigar and they were quick to bring me into their ranks, but they just wanted to use my name for their movement. They didn’t respect me.”

“Then you don’t need them.”

“I do, though,” she said. “They are the Krigan movement right now. I need to earn their respect to lead them or else I have nothing.”

“There will always be a place for you out here,” he said. “That is, as long as you prove yourself to be a woman of your word.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“That is all you have to do. Being a leader is not an easy task, but it’s also not something you can know everything about beforehand. I’m not a perfect leader, nor will I ever be, but I will learn until the day I die.”

“I have a lot to think about, don’t I?”

“You do.” He picked himself up and stretched his arms out. “Tonight we’ll see how you are in action, though—you’ll be driving the new transport.”

Trella

Her suit was intact but it was working overtime to assess and repair any damage that may have happened. The readout on Trella’s suit told her she was suffering from a mild concussion but that it shouldn’t interfere with any other operations. She looked around and had to force her suit to autofocus to compensate for her dark, grim surroundings. What she saw didn’t help much when her suit began to compensate—a small room, just big enough for one person and a cot. There was one door, made of heavy steel with a small barred window near the top. She didn’t have to scan around much to realize that she had been tossed into a cell and that she was most likely in the bowels of the palace they had just ridden into.

Trella’s first instinct was to call out, but she realized how futile it would be. The walls were thick, just about one meter thick by her scans and the door was barely letting in any light. The chances of anyone hearing her would be slim, outside of anyone monitoring the cells and she wasn’t interested in speaking with any of them just yet. There was a morbid curiosity that crept up in the back of her mind as to what exactly detaining her would do for Trallex. Did he consider her a threat to his master plan that Alva was presumably acting out at this very moment?

Since her awakening thanks to Alva, everything had felt different, she felt more aware of her surroundings and how and why people were reacting the way they were. Cydonians were so heavily modified to have technical information available to them at all times as a way of understanding their surroundings. Ever since she finally let go and embraced these latent emotions that had swelled inside her her whole life but she had suppressed, she finally felt she had a true understanding of human existence. The only drawbacks were after spending a lifetime void of these emotions, they came in such oppressive waves that she had to simply buckle down and weather out the storm. Right now was one of those moments.

While it was presumptuous to claim any sort of real paternal relationship with Trallex, he was biologically her father. He had even gone as far as to say it out loud, even if it was simply factual information he was relaying and not uttered with any form of sentiment attached to it. The only possible emotion that lay dormant inside him and was guiding his actions subconsciously was shame. He was ashamed that a Cydonian with his DNA had fallen so far from Cydonian norms and had fallen to her baser instincts of emotional attachment, discarding a life of cold, scientific detachment. His shame ran so deep that the very thought of her being a part of his grand master plan to restore honor to the Cydonian people to reclaim their home, possibly even the entire planet of Andlios felt impossible to her. It was a shame that that superseded working with their mortal enemies the Krigans, which is what made it hurt so badly.

Without any advanced augmentations or ability to open a comm link, Trella knew she was trapped and at the whim of her father and the emperor. A chill ran down her spine.

031. Bonds

Jace

The feeling of waking up inside their old apartment fogged his mind for a brief moment, and Jace had to remind himself what cycle it was and why he was there. There was a certain part of him that stirred, finding himself on the couch with a book on his lap, that wanted to stagger up to his feet and saunter off to bed, where he’d collapse into it and find his arm draped over Ro’s body. Instead, it was a very different time and place. He glanced quickly at the time and let out a sigh; he had only slept for about three hours, but he was still exhausted.

Jace picked himself up and stretched out his arms, rubbing his eyes while he stomped into the neatly-tiled and chrome-plated kitchen. He grabbed a glass from the cabinet and held it under the faucet while he let out a loud yawn. He had forgotten what the water in Krigar tasted like: slightly metallic and leaving a strange aftertaste. The water treatment within Krigar recycled a lot of their water and while they claimed it was perfectly fine to drink, it still tasted strange, especially when compared to the water he was used to from Cyngen and the other fringe planets.

Even down in the stronghold, they had a supply of water that came from Cyngen that they exhausted before they started using the internal well that it was built atop of. Those strongholds were actually kind of a marvel considering how old they were. The Krigans were bloodthirsty and took whatever land suited them, but they sure knew what to do with that land once they had seized it and those strongholds were proof of that. The only thing that wasn’t produced within the strongholds was food, which the few of them had brought enough rations to not have to worry about it.

It felt strange for Jace to be sitting inside his furnished, climate-controlled apartment and longing to be back underground in a cave with the people he barely knew but had considered his friends. The word friends stood out in his mind, especially after the scene he had just made back in the stronghold before he stomped off. He did consider them his friends and he had risked his neck for them traversing back into the Republic carrying what would be considered two fugitives and one Cyngen refugee that was linked to what felt like another conspiracy taking place behind the scenes.

He gulped down the rest of the water and left the glass on the counter while he leaned back and pulled out his holoscanner, turning it back on after he had only briefly checked it earlier. It hit him like a ton of bricks that Katrijn had claimed that she was coming by and that was hours prior, right before he had fallen asleep. In a panic he called down to the front desk, only choosing a verbal commlink.

“Yes, Mr. Krios?” a pleasant voice said.

“Did anyone come by for me? I need to know, this is urgent!” It was difficult to catch his breath, trying to imagine what had happened if Katrijn had chosen to walk the streets alone.

“There was a visitor before, Mr. Krios,” she said. “But we did not know that you were even here, our records indicate that you haven’t been here in quite a while, actually, welcome back…”

“Shit,” he said. “Shit shit shit. What happened to my visitor?”

“There was an altercation with the local police, actually,” she said, pausing. “I’m not sure, but I believe she was taken into custody by them after a struggle. If you want I can—”

Jace quickly switched the link off and began pacing around the kitchen. This was bad, it was really bad. He quickly pulled up a link to Loren, ignoring any of the security protocols Loren had briefed them on using while on the planet. Loren’s face appeared before him, looking uneasy.

“Yes, hi Mr. Krios,” he said, not his usual jovial self. “I’m not sure this is a secure connection and…”

“She didn’t show, Loren,” Jace said, breathless. “She didn’t show and got picked up.”

“What?” His face turned a shade paler. “But how…what do you mean, she didn’t…Fuck! She snuck out while I was sleeping. Gods dammit, where is she?”

“I don’t know,” Jace said. “The local police got her, I fell asleep, I just—”

“Gods dammit,” Loren said under his breath. “This is not good.”

Katrijn

Katrijn woke up groggy inside an old-looking, dusky cell with two walls made of iron bars, one side looking into another empty cell and the other overlooking a room with a few desks in it. She was sitting on a cot that was chained to the wall and her head was pounding. There didn’t seem to be anyone around and it appeared to be getting later into the evening, which meant Loren would be concerned about her and looking for her; even worse was that she was supposed to be dead.

“Hello?” she called out, her voice echoing throughout the office. “Is anyone there?”

“Oh, wow,” a younger man’s voice came from another room. He emerged showing a younger, slim, olive-skinned man in his early 20’s wearing a Krigar police uniform with a mug in his hand. His dark, curly hair hung down just above his eyes, and he had to brush it out of the way. “Those beat guys really zapped you pretty good, you’ve been out for a while.”

“I guess so,” she said, rubbing her temples. “I have one throbbing headache right now.”

“Oh, sorry,” he scurried over to a desk and rummaged through a drawer, pulling out a small bottle of pills that rattled as he walked. He grabbed some water from a faucet and came over, handing her the water and a few pills. “Take these, they should help out.”

She snatched them through the bars, tossing the pills into her mouth and gulping them down with the water. The water felt cool and soothing as it slid down her throat; she hadn’t even thought about the possibility of her being dehydrated after walking around Krigar with the sunset on her back. “Thanks,” she said, handing the empty cup back to him.

“You want some more?” He asked. “You seem thirsty.”

“Please,” she said.

“They told me you were a tough one,” he shook his head while he filled up the cup. “Found a pair of knives on you, too, pretty ornate ones.”

“Did they take them?” she asked.

“Nah,” he pointed with his head toward the desk. “We’ve still got ‘em, we’ll give ‘em back to you when we can get ahold of your husband.”

“My... husband?” She craned her neck.

“Yeah, Mrs. Krios,” he said, holding out the cup of water through the bars. “I’ve been trying to find Mr. Krios but we don’t have a number or address listed for either of you out here, was hoping that you could help with that.”

“Oh, right,” she said, forcing a smile. Loren must have pushed through the change to her records and linked her new name to her DNA. “Where I was picked up was actually our home, I just, well…We had an argument and…”

“No need to explain, Mrs. Krios, we see this all the time and—”

“Call me Eja, please,” she said, remembering the name she had chosen.

“Oh, of course, Eja,” he said. “Do you have a way we can contact Jace?”

“Yeah,” she said, taking the water and sitting back down. “I can give you the link information.”

“Great,” he smiled at her. “I’ll get into contact with him and we can get you out of here shortly, then.”

“Thanks…” She paused. “I didn’t catch your name?”

“Oh right,” he laughed, scratching the back of his head nervously. “Officer Lu’thin.”

“Lu’thin sounds like a Zarr’nid name to me,” she said.

“Yep,” he tapped his fingers on the bars. “That’d be me, the last in the line of some proud Zarr’nid warriors working as a desk jockey.”

“Well, Officer Lu’thin, I appreciate how kind you’ve been to me. This has been a rather long day…”

“Oh, right,” he shook his head. “I’ll go contact your husband and tell him you’re alright. Here,” he pressed his finger to the pad on the door, sliding it open. “You don’t have to stay in there any longer, it’s not like anyone is pressing any charges or anything. Have a seat over here,” he motioned toward the desk.

“Thanks,” she smiled, picking herself up from the cot and walking out of the cell.

It didn’t take long for Jace to show up, no longer than about 40 minutes. He strode into the small local precinct wearing a look of concern on his face that actually made him look sort of endearing in his own goofy way. Officer Lu’thin greeted him at the door and Jace played his part as the concerned husband off rather well, she thought, standing up and giving a small wave to him. Jace quickly ran over to her and almost bowled her over with an embrace.

“Dear gods,” he said. “I thought something horrible had happened to you, that this was all over.”

“I’m sorry, Jace,” she said, starting to feel overwhelmed. “I didn’t mean it before.”

“I didn’t either,” he said. “I was being an idiot.”

“What else is new?” she laughed, and he squeezed her a bit tighter.

“Folks,” Lu’thin’s voice broke into their touching moment. “Sorry to interrupt, just wanted to return the lady’s belongings.”

“Oh, right,” she turned a dull shade of red remembering that he was there. “Thanks,” she reached out and took the holoscanner and the two knives from him.

“Those knives,” he whistled.

“What about them?” She asked.

“I recognize them. They are old Zarr’nid in design, see,” he took one from her hand and pointed at the hilt. “Those carvings there were actually from my old tribe.”

“Oh, wow.”

“Yeah,” he smiled. “Sure are beauties. They must’ve cost a fortune.”

“Family heirlooms,” she said, tucking them into her belt. “Thanks for everything, Lu’thin.”

“Anytime,” he said. “You know, it’s very rare these days to actually have someone be nice to us these days. Feels like everything is bubbling up to the surface and all of late, lots of unrest. I just don’t know anymore.”

“Just hold out hope,” Jace said. “I’m sure it’ll get a bit more rough for a while, but it isn’t all bad out there.”

“You’re a good guy, Lu’thin,” Katrijn patted him on the shoulder. “We won’t forget that.”

They strode out from the precinct office, the door zipping shut behind them leaving them alone on the street staring out at the now-darkened night sky. Both were quiet for a moment, just staring up at the sky, some of the stars visible but the cloud cover obscuring most of the view. “Thanks for covering,” she finally said.

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “No problem.”

“I had told him that, you know, we had an argument and I was outside and…”

“Yeah,” he said. “I kinda figured. It worked out pretty well. I was a bit taken aback when I got a call that my wife was in lockup, but I had been trying to help Loren locate you anyway. I fell asleep and, well, here you are. Kinda felt bad about that one.”

“Fuck,” she said. “Loren has to be pissed, huh?”

“He’s not happy, that’s for sure. In fact, we should get back indoors soon, that was a close one.”

“Yeah,” she replied. “I fucked up pretty bad today.” It felt odd admitting it out loud to him, but she knew he needed to hear it. “I’m sorry. We need you,” she paused. “I need you and I’m not sure that I really expressed that before.”

“I guess I already knew that,” he said. “I just feel so worthless all the time. I’m just a pilot. I got us here and now there isn’t much else for me to do. Trella went off to try to get us some help from Alva and the Krigans, O’Neil got locked up, Loren is doing his thing, you are going to rule over all of this and me? I don’t even know. After this is all over I’ll be back out on the fringes flying minerals back and forth.”

“That’s not true,” she said. “Jace, look, I know you are a bit out of your league here. You have to remember that I am as well. This is all new to me. I spent my entire life running. I never thought I’d see Andlios again, never mind Krigar and be involved in some crackpot plan to depose my brother. I’m not ready for that, I’m not a ruler and I barely know this place at all anymore. You’re right, you don’t have contacts on the planet, you can’t fight like I can and you did just fly us here, but I need you here for support, Jace. When the times comes, you’ll probably have to fight alongside me and I’ll feel a lot better having you there. I need support, I’m still human, and nobody has been as supportive as you have been.”

“Well shit,” he looked away from her. “That makes me feel like an idiot even more.”

“I’ve found that isn’t that hard,” she said. “So, it’s probably too late to head back to the stronghold, huh?”

“Yeah,” he looked up at the sky. “It’s pretty late now, we can just crash at my apartment for tonight. You can take the bed, the couch is good enough for me. Alright?”

“Sounds good,” she said. “Then tomorrow it’s back to see what Loren has come up with. He probably has something by now, right?”

“I have no clue,” he said. “He’s Loren, though, so there’s always something.”

032. The Raid

Alva

There was a feeling of excitement brewing inside Alva that was exacerbated by the raw power of the finely tuned engine in the transport while she rode off with the Wild Ones toward their target. There was a small group on board with her—only three: Jum’en the mechanic, Sor’el the maniac and Kenta the quiet one. Sor’el manned the mounted guns on the top of the vehicle while the other two sat quietly inspecting their weapons. The job seemed simple enough to Alva: it was a simple smash and grab. Zun’thir had warned her that security had been heightened on whatever remaining ground transport convoys were left, which was why they were going in with five vehicles when they’d usually opt for three.

Telltale signs of their targets were off on the horizon in the dark, warm night. There was a trail of dust kicked up into the night sky, creating a thin haze that they were barreling toward. Alva could feel her heart beating in her chest, wondering what would be in store for them. Zun’thir had trusted her with his people—with his transport—and this was her chance to prove to not only them but also to herself that she was who she believed herself to be.

“Three minutes to contact,” one of the voices squawked over the comm.

“Prepare yourself,” Zun’thir said over the comm. “I’m going to need a vanguard for the V-formation.”

“We’re on it,” Alva quickly said before letting anyone else claim the position.

“Good,” he said.

Alva positioned her transport into the center of the formation and felt the thrumming of the engine while she charged ahead. There were a few “whoops” from the back passage, and Sor’el climbed up into position on the mounted gun without being prompted. She could feel the tension while they grew closer, the knot in her stomach growing tighter and their mission racing through her mind. The mission was simple, really, all they had to do was run the guard vehicles off the road and box the carrier transport into stopping, loot whatever they could and then be off as quickly as they had appeared. The only real problem was that plans were meant for undiscovered bumps to appear in the road and in a hurry this simple supply run could turn into a bloody battle.

The Wild Ones crested over a small hill, their targets in sight. There were two heavily armored transports flanking the cargo transport and they had accelerated at the sight of the rapidly approaching armored convoy. Dust was kicking up all over them, clouding the pursuit. Alva felt guilty about it, but quickly enabled her enhanced vision, able to sift through the dust and debris and focus on the small convoy. There was movement in the two armored escorts, and Alva noted that it looked like they were moving toward the mounted guns.

“Sor’el,” she shouted over the comm. “Right gunner.”

“I can’t get a good shot,” he said.

“Aim toward the guns.”

“I can, but I don’t see him, I can’t get the shot.”

“Just aim and take it, trust me on this.”

“Alright,” he sounded unsure but he aimed and squeezed the trigger, sending a rapid-fire barrage toward the gun. Alva did a quick zoom and saw a guard slumped over on top of the mounted gun.

“That’s a hit,” Alva called out.

“How can you see that?”

“I’ve got enhanced vision,” she said. “Line up a shot on the left one now.”

“Copy,” he said.

They continued in pursuit, closing the gap between them to just a few transport lengths. While the dust was still kicking up, they were close enough for them to start picking off shots at the transports, being careful to avoid the center one carrying the supplies. Sor’el rattled off a few shots at the other transport’s heavy gun but went wide each time while the other gunner returned fire. Alva had to think fast and dodge out of the way of a shot, almost sideswiping Zun’thir’s car. “Aim to the right a hair,” she called. He took another shot, just barely going wide. “Right more!”

“I’m trying, keep her still!” he called down, forgetting about his comm.

“You’ve got this,” she said. “Just concentrate.”

More shots came in, and Alva was forced to once again take evasive maneuvers. The transport bucked right, and it took all her power to correct it before the transport jolted, alarms buzzing all around her. “What’s wrong?” Jum’en asked.

“Took a hit to the left engine,”

“Alva, come in,” Zun’thir’s voice crackled over the comm.

“Yeah,” she said. “Things are a little hot over here.”

“I see smoke, are you hit?”

“Left engine is hit, Jum’en is seeing what she can do.”

“Change of plans,” he said. “We’ll swarm and force them to stop. You hold position, clear?”

“Clear,” she sighed. This wasn’t how she had envisioned this run going and it was important to her to be the tip of the spear for this attack, but without a left engine, they couldn’t keep up a high-speed pursuit. The rest of the Wild Ones followed Zun’thir’s lead, flowing like a flock of birds around the convoy from a V-formation into flanking around the three vehicles before finally enclosing them with Alva in the rear, Zun’thir in the front and two on each side keeping them boxed in. The back door to Zun’thir’s transport blew open and one of the Wild Ones stood with what looked like a giant launcher pointed at the transport in the middle, them quickly decelerating, Alva having to catch herself and make sure not to slam into them.

The entirety of the convoy and the flock of Wild Ones crawled to a stop, tension mounting along with the understanding that things could turn ugly in a hurry. Alva looked back at Jum’en still trying to fix the engine while Sor’el manned the mounted gun. “Kenta, Jum’en, gear up,” she said. “Sor’el, we need you up there watching our six.”

“Copy,” he said.

“Alva,” Zun’thir’s voice came through.

“Yeah?”

“Take the lead on this one.”

“Oh,” she said. “Yeah, I got it.” She switched her comm to the main band and swallowed hard. “Alright everyone, in pairs, drivers keep those engines warmed up and gunners keep a lookout. The rest approach but let me talk to them first. Got it?”

“Copy,” their voices filtered in almost in unison.

“Let’s move,” she said, grabbing her pulseaxe and kicking the door open, jumping down with Jum’en and Kenta following closely behind her. She carefully moved around her own transport before approaching the cargo transport in the middle, motioning for Jum’en and Kenta to flank on each side while she went with Jum’en along the left side. “Keep an eye on that left gun, Sor’el.”

“No movement,” he said.

“Approaching the door,” she said, pulling her pulseaxe over her shoulder and holding it at the ready. Alva banged on the side of the door with the blade of her ax; the windows were tinted and she couldn’t see inside but heard low voices. She banged again on the door, and this time it slowly creaked open, an older looking man in a pristine uniform stepping out with his hands out.

“I don’t want any trouble,” he said, stepping down slowly with his hands out. Jum’en grabbed at his uniform and pushed him up against the side of the transport, his head smacking against the aluminum side.

“Good, we don’t want any trouble, either,” Alva explained. “Now tell your men to stand down and this will all be over in a hurry.”

“Wait,” he said, a faint hint in his eye of familiarity. “I know you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do, I do,” he was smiling.

“Tell your men to stand down.”

“Oh right, right,” he said, nervously fumbling for his comm. “Stand down, stand down.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Now we can have a civilized conversation.”

“Civilized?” He let out a nervous laugh. “With a demon? I know who you are.”

“Do you? I’m interested to hear how.”

“You’ve been all over the news,” he said, nervously fumbling with his hands. “A part of the resistance. They say you were dead, they say the gods brought you back to seek vengeance on Cronus and—”

“They say a lot of things,” she cut him off.

“But you are here now.”

“So you think.” Alva was growing agitated with him. The Wild Ones were already in motion, unloading the contents of the cargo transport. The twinkle in the eyes of the driver was wearing thin on her patience. Oystein’s plan was working and her legend was growing even without her in Krigar carrying out whatever schemes he was hatching for the public eye. Like it or not, she was a visible figure in his revolution and she needed to take control of it.

“I thought you were leading the Krigans, though,” he mumbled. “Not the Wild Ones.”

“Consider them good friends of mine,” she said.

“My gods,” he said. “I can’t believe that I—”

Alva brought the barrel of the pulseaxe up and smashed him in the temple with it, his head snapping to the side and his body falling over into a heap. She let out a sigh and looked over to see Zun’thir standing there laughing at the scene. Alva turned flush and stomped off back toward the transport, motioning for Jum’en to follow her. “C’mon, we need that engine at least operational.”

“Copy,” Jum’en followed behind her.

033. Of Plans and Failures

Jace

There was an odd calm in the apartment when Jace woke up in the morning on the couch. It was early, just before dawn, but the sun was streaming through the blinds of the large glass door that led to a balcony. The balcony brought back memories, most of them happy memories of how he and Ro would spend time out there together when they first moved in. It didn’t matter if it was watching the sunset over the city or rise, they had the perfect view from the north-facing balcony; the sun rose in the west and set in the east.

Jace stood looking out the window when he felt his stomach grumble. He could go for some coffee and something to eat, but he realized he hadn’t lived in this apartment since Ro died, which meant that even though the housekeepers were keeping it neat and tidy, they surely weren’t keeping a fully-stocked fridge when there was no one there to eat any of the food. He thought about checking on Katrijn but knew better at this point than to wake her up and instead decided to try to scare up some food for when she woke up. They hadn’t really spoken much the night before, but things between them felt good, like there was a new level of understanding and appreciation.

It was difficult for him to ignore that there was a spark between them and that he was starting to develop strong feelings for her. Well, starting to feel like he was being dishonest with himself. He was usually a reasonably rational person and storming off as he did wasn’t exactly rational, it was an emotional decision. He had been trying to ignore it and it felt especially wrong that he was mulling over these feelings while inside the apartment he and Ro had lived in together. Even if she was gone it felt like she was still lingering around every corner and for a moment the night before, he had woken up on the couch and almost went and collapsed on the bed next to Katrijn. He caught himself at the door and stopped himself, but a part of him almost just gave in anyway.

He needed some time out of the apartment anyway to clear his mind. Jace brushed through the lobby smiling and nodding at the girl at the desk, the same one who was there the day before. “Hello Mr. Krios,” she said. “I’m sorry about the mixup last night, I didn’t know that you and Mrs. Krios had returned, we hadn’t seen you in quite a while.”

“Yeah,” he scratched the back of his head, pausing at the door. “We’ll be back here for a little bit. Not sure for how long. Sorry I didn’t let anyone know.”

“Oh, it’s no problem.” Her smile was large and unsettling to him. “We’re sorry about the confusion and any difficulties it may have caused, we just believe in keeping everything secure, especially with all that is going on in the city of late.”

“It’s been pretty crazy out there,” he said. “Speaking of the city, is there anywhere nearby where I can get some coffee and breakfast, maybe? We’ve been off-world for so long now that I’m not even sure what’s nearby.”

“Of course,” she beamed. “There’s a little cafe just ’round the corner. Head out and take a right, then take a right on the corner and you’ll see it. Their coffee is great,” she lifted up a cup to show him.

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” he nodded to her, walking out the door and feeling the balmy heat hit him like he had stepped into a furnace. He wished they had chosen a better time of year to execute whatever kind of half-cocked plan they were going to end up rolling with, because Krigan summers were not his favorite by any stretch. The cycles out on the fringes had left him accustomed to his climate-controlled Pequod, space docks and transports. Very rarely did he have to stand out in the sun and face the elements.

It was still early but the streets were bustling with life. Parents were walking with their children, seeing them off to school, transports were zipping by and city workers were tending to the sidewalks and streets, ensuring that everything was working smoothly. The contrast from the poorer district he had had to walk through was a stark one, but he tried to push it out of his mind while he rounded the corner and saw the cafe the girl was talking about, the Omega Cafe. Their sign was shaped in a model of the Omega Destiny and the inside was filled with various memorabilia from the ship that flew from Earth to Andlios. This definitely wasn’t there when he had lived in the area, that was for sure.

Jace ordered two large coffees and a sack full of Krigan pastries, hoping that Katrijn liked them. He didn’t have much of a taste for them but knew they were pretty popular. It probably wouldn’t matter, neither of them had eaten anything the night before, they simply came back to his apartment and both crashed after what was a rather stressful day. Jace had eaten a few rations and assumed that Katrijn had done the same, but he was out of rations now and chances were that she didn’t take many with her either. Back in the apartment, he set the coffees down on the counter and pulled a pastry out from the bag, taking a bite of it and feeling it melt in his mouth. He went for another bite when he heard Katrijn approaching.

“So that’s where you went to,” Katrijn’s voice came from behind him. Jace spun around, pastry still dangling from his mouth while she chuckled.

“Oh, sorry.” He pulled it out of his mouth. “Yeah, I got us some coffee and something to eat. I figured we’d both had enough ration packs for a while.”

“Who knew you were so thoughtful?” she said, walking over and snatching up the coffee on the counter as well as a pastry from the sack. “Lemon kransekake? How’d you know?”

“Know what?” he asked, taking a sip from the coffee and feeling it almost burn his tongue.

“These were always my favorite growing up here,” she said, taking a bite of one and washing it down with some coffee. “They remind me of summers here in Krigar.”

“I aim to please, I guess,” he said, taking another sip of the scalding hot coffee. “This isn’t too hot for you?”

“No,” she laughed and shook her head. “Why, is it for you?”

“Maybe,” he said, taking another pastry from the sack. “I think I burned my tongue on it.”

She replied only with a laugh and a head shake, which made him turn a little red. “Oh c’mon. we should get ready and head back soon, Loren’s going to be worried sick.”

“I messaged him last night after we got back,” Jace said.

“So did I, but still, you know how he worries about me being exposed like this.”

Katrijn

The walk back was uneventful, although oddly tense. Jace seemed to be on high alert, which she would have to guess was an order from Loren. The chances of her being found out were incredibly slim, she knew that and Loren most likely knew that as well, but it gave Jace something to focus on and feel included in, which was important after his display the day prior. She had to hold back the laughter a few times, but she had to admit that she appreciated how seriously he took defending her. Somehow he had forgotten that first fight they were involved in where she did most of the work with her knives while he sat back, although he did have his moments, she had to admit.

A lot of their hopes hinged on Loren being prepared for them—when they showed up—with some sort of plan. It had been only 24 hours or so, but Loren had proven himself to be quite adept at throwing things together and their numbers were not going to be growing, it appeared. She could be wrong about that and they could return to the stronghold to find Trella back with a host of Krigans, but she very much doubted that would happen. Instead, it would be Loren hopefully exhausting his and her uncle’s contacts to help ease things along for them.

The abandoned factory did its job and they had almost passed by it on their own. The whole area was run down and most of the buildings were in a similar state of decay and abandonment. There was only a faint marking right above the door of a Krigan pulseaxe that told them that they were in the right place. It felt strange walking back into the factory after seeing so much of Krigar for herself, knowing they’d just be back down inside the stronghold again, cut off from the people they were trying to liberate.

Loren was sitting at the great table surrounded by projections of scrolling text and video feeds, not at all surprised by Katrijn and Jace strutting into the stronghold. Without looking up he smiled and shook his head. “Took you two long enough.”

“It’s hot out there,” Jace said, tugging at his shirt collar.

“And I’m the princess here.” Katrijn sat down at a chair near Loren. “I didn’t know you meddled with my records, Loren.”

“Yep,” he said, still studying the projections. “Thought it would be a good idea to get Eja Krios finalized before we showed up here uninvited. You were lucky.” He looked up at her with the smile washed off his face. “You know that, right? If those beat cops had pressed charges and your mugshot showed up on the official ‘net, well, yeah…”

“I know,” she said. “It just kind of happened, alright?”

“You are so unbelievably lucky, Kat,” he reiterated. “Never pull something like that again, you got that?”

“I know, I know, look,” she quickly tried to change the subject. “What have you come up with? We have both been anticipating what kind of plan you’ll come up with.”

“Ah,” Loren said, clicking his holoscanner and the projections disappearing into thin air. “About that. I’ve really been pouring through everything and I think we need to wait.”

“To wait?” She looked at him in disbelief. “What about this whole Cronus festival and that Hedlund girl’s movement?”

“It would be prudent to act if we were with them,” he said. “The thing is, we sent Trella to test those waters and we haven’t heard from her since. For now, we have to consider that door closed to us. If they make a play in public we might be able to take advantage of it, but otherwise, it’s safer for us to just wait this out.”

“I don’t like this,” Jace said from across the room. “Just waiting? This place is private, but after yesterday I’m just a bit more concerned…”

“You were the one who ran outta here, man,” Loren said. “I’m not saying you were wrong or anything, but I’m just saying.”

“I know, I know,” Jace said.

Katrijn understood that it would be fruitless to argue with Loren over the plan, even if she didn’t like it. There was no play right now—that much was clear—but there was a feeling in the air out in the city that they were on the precipice of a massive change. The officer at the precinct even mentioned how uneasy it all was; the poor people were starting to feel empowered and it reminded her of how her father and uncle had helped to impassion the working class aboard the Omega Destiny to drive the Fourth Fleet out.

The rest of the day was spent in relative silence, a callback to before Jace walked out. She understood that Jace was sort of embarrassed, both for storming out like he did but also for the previous night. He stood for a long second in the doorway to the room, she could sense it, like he was considering climbing into bed with her. It was difficult to ignore the magnetism there was between them; even if it was faint at first, it was growing. Jace was a strange guy and a bit aloof, but he meant well and he never once doubted her, even when she was doubting herself.

Their future was all unclear, but she couldn’t help but see that Jace was in pain being back on Andlios, the same kind of pain she was feeling. This was supposed to be their home, but her family had such an impact on both of them that changed the course of not only their lives but everyone else in the area. Katrijn was doing her best to seem calm and collected, but she was feeling just as exposed and hurt as Jace was and a part of her just wanted to reach out to him and tell him it’d be okay as long as they kept sticking together.

Before she knew it she was alone in the great hall, sitting there alone with her thoughts and feeling vulnerable. The twisted face of the bum on the street who had tried to attack her sent a shiver down her spine. That was how out of touch she was with Andlios and Krigar, to where she didn’t even know people were living like him now, although they had probably always existed. They were just more brazen now and they didn’t care who she was, who her father was or what her goals were. She was a stranger to them, what would they care if there was another shift on the throne? In her mind she would be able to dispose of Cronus, though, well, she hadn’t quite figured out how she would get to that fateful showdown with him yet, but if her father was able to somehow become the ruler of most of the known galaxy she should be able to figure out how to sneak into a palace she knew like the back of her hand. But in her mind, she was sure that if she could just get him off that throne everything would fall into place.

Another shiver went down her spine while she picked herself up and walked toward the bunk quarters. They all had their own giant room to themselves since it was only the three of them being housed in a place that could hold at least 1,000 warriors at any given time. Katrijn began turning toward her own bunk and the idea of being alone felt overwhelming to her, so she turned back, looking at both doors that led to the other bunks. To the right was Loren’s and the left was Jace’s; each one would have dozens of beds, each one with a commander’s bed that was a full-sized bed and not just a cot. She cut to the left and stood at the doorway to Jace’s room, looking through the dim line of empty cots to the bed at the end where he lay on his stomach, arm draped over the side of the bed. He even looked goofy while he slept, which made her have to hold back a laugh.

She quietly walked through the hall of empty cots with her arms crossed, pausing momentarily at the edge of the bed, just watching him sleep peacefully. Katrijn slipped her shoes off and set them aside, shaking her head at herself. Finally, after a deep breath, she tugged gently at the blanket and slid inside the bed, scooting closer until she could feel the warmth of Jace’s body against hers. Her heart was aflutter for a brief second, but it felt peaceful and her mind stopped racing through what-ifs, her draping her arm over him.

“Wha?” He began to stir.

“It’s okay,” she whispered.

He turned to face Katrijn, his hair mussed up from laying on it. She reached out and stroked his cheek, his eyes sleepily opening and her lips moving toward his like they were being pulled toward an asteroid drifting in space before their lips met and she felt him return the kiss, a jolt of electricity coursing through her veins.

034. Promises

Alva

Zun’thir moved effortlessly through the celebrating Wild Ones like a proud Krigan father at his son’s first hunt, congratulating them all while he worked his way over to Alva who was sitting alone in the corner staring into a mug of honey wine. She gave him a slight nod and knew she wouldn’t be able to avoid a talk from him, not that she minded, she was just processing the night’s events. The run was successful but she couldn’t help but ask herself what could have gone differently and the idea of her being that well known already nagged at the back of her subconscious.

“So you are famous now,” Zun’thir smiled at her.

“I guess so.”

“You don’t seem happy about it.”

“I’m not.” She took a sip of the sweet wine and sighed. “I came back here to help people, not to be taken advantage of.”

“In a way, you being taken advantage of is helping people, though, I suppose.”

“Between my father and the Cydonians, I was bred to lead, not be a figurehead.”

Zun’thir broke out into laughter while Alva watched him unamused. “Oh Princess Alva, you’ll need to learn to accept that when you are in a position of power, in public people will see of you whatever they wish. I’ve been labeled a revolutionary, a guerrilla, a hero and a terrorist. I’m a little of each and not much of any. I have no control over that, I only have control over my own actions and how I treat my own people.”

“I suppose so…”

“No, there is no supposition, just fact. I take care of my Wild Ones and they, in turn, take care of me. I can’t control the world and what they’ll think of me, I just have to be true to myself. You,” he paused briefly. “You, Princess Alva, will learn this. What you demonstrated in the field tonight was impressive, though.”

“Oh?”

“You wanted to prove yourself, that much was clear, but you handled adversity rather well, knowing when to hand over the reins and when to take control.”

“My transport was toast, so we had to change the plan.”

“Leadership isn’t properly executing a plan as much as it is adapting the plan to the situation. I think my Wild Ones wouldn’t mind going into battle with you.”

“Are you serious?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said. “Although there is still one promise you made and have yet to keep.”

“That’s going to take some time, I fear.”

Trallex had given pause when she made her request. He was usually calm and collected, but at the mention of the Zarr’nid people, she could sense a mood change come over him. She knew he’d be unhappy with the plan, but she never expected his reaction being a flat out denial. She knew the Cydonians had roots within the Zarr’nid culture, but never knew how difficult it was for either side to deal with those roots until now.

I don’t understand, she said, still moving her lips while she communicated via her internal comms and not quite comfortable yet communicating without speaking out loud.

I do not expect you to. Cydonians will have nothing to do with those desert-dwellers.

You want a lot of things from me, Trallex. She was exhausted just thinking of all that he wanted from her. The…you took Trella away from me. She was all I had and you expect me to just get through this without the one person I had left in this life. You need to give me this.

You were given a task, he said. I expect you to complete it.

You also gave me full reign over it and this is what I think needs to happen. You might not like it, but I need the Wild Ones, I need the Zarr’nid to know they are appreciated or else I have nothing.

I believe that—

This is a child, Trallex. Communicating via CyNet still felt alien to her, never mind interrupting Trallex. All it takes is for you to pull up a link with one person and then this is taken care of and we can all move on. Give me this or just let me go.

After a long pause his response was curt and to the point. Fine, he said. Bring the child to Dovoth Hospital’s Children’s Ward in the morning, they will be waiting for him. And Alva, don’t make a move on the palace until you have conferred with me. Without any further ceremony, the link was broken and Alva found herself sitting alone inside the cave. She was still not entirely comfortable with all these augmentations, even after all these cycles and all the training, so she understood how dismaying it all seemed to outsiders. Her own discomfort probably showed through, which was the way she excused herself to make the link to him. His final line didn’t sit well with her; it was just another level of control he was attempting to exert over her. She emerged to see Zun’thir with his wife, Tral’de, having a hushed discussion outside the child’s room.

“Do you have good news, Ms. Hedlund?” Zun’thir asked.

“Yes,” she said. “Tral’de, take Zum’il with you in the morning to Davoth Children’s Hospital and they’ll be waiting for you. It should be all covered and taken care of.”

“I don’t believe this,” Tral’de was shaking her head. “What if something happens to him?”

“Take Brun’ta and Tilge with you, my dearest,” Zun’thir said, still in a quiet voice. “Tomorrow I will ride with Ms. Hedlund for Krigar with the rest and will hopefully return with a brighter future for all of us.”

Tral’de looked at Alva then back at Zun’thir. “I don’t trust her,” she said, and Alva couldn’t help but feel stung by it. “What if she is lying?”

“You’ll have Brun’ta and Tilge and if so, I’ll be with her.” His eyes locked with Alva’s. “If she betrays us she dies, as does her Krigan friends in Krigar.”

“I understand,” Alva said, doing her best to be respectful.

They left the next morning before dawn, Zun’thir kissing his wife and boy goodbye before mounting up with a dozen of his Wild Ones, taking four of their battle-worn transports. Alva sat inside the vanguard transport that Zun’thir drove, the outside of it lined with spikes and barbed wire, the inside threadbare at best with all of the amenities ripped out and only a few poorly-bolted on seats were left that gave full view out of the weapon slits where the windows used to be, the center one giving access to the gun turret that was haphazardly attached to the ceiling of the once-normal transport. Sor’el, Kenta and Jum’en rode with them, the four of them comfortable with each other after the raid a few days prior.

Alva had returned to Andlios with hopes of reuniting the Krigan people to help depose Cronus Freeman. Instead, she sat inside a derelict transport with a group of renowned desert raiders cracking jokes and felt more comfortable around them than with one of her father’s best friends, a man she had known as her uncle for all of her life. That was her past life, though, which was difficult for her to process still. She had been reborn and while in many ways she was the same, much had changed. Alva knew what she faced when they rolled into Krigar in a matter of hours; she was going to have to face Oystein and the rest of the Krigans. That meant that she was going to have to explain herself, to demonstrate that she was a powerful, worthy leader and that the Cydonians were not controlling her. The Wild Ones were the best shot she had, they were renowned for their fearlessness in the face of battle and known for their hatred of the Cydonians. If she could prove that she had won them over then the Krigans should accept her all over again.

Without the Krigan’s support, her whole mission was a bust and she’d have to return to Trallex with the report that she had failed. Time was of the essence for him, even if he hadn’t stressed that it was implied by how their conversations had gone and how much he had caved into her demands. When the caravan reached the city limits Alva felt a knot growing in her stomach, her clenching her pulseaxe until her knuckles turned ivory white. The rest of the crew aboard had grown quieter as well, knowing that they were in a hostile environment, even while they drove through the Old District where Cronus’s goons had less control.

The streets were becoming more and more familiar and she was seeing more and more Krigans lining the streets, patrolling with their pulseaxes and rifles out. It made her heart both soar and drop knowing that they were initially gathering to rally behind her; now they were most likely rallying around Oystein instead. Alva feared what would happen when she had to face him. The sight of the Quorthon only drove her stomach into further knots, the streets almost impossible to navigate because of how many Krigans had rallied to the bar. She had heard about the men and women who were coming, but she hadn’t believed there would be as many as there were.

Even worse, she knew she had to face all of them. Many had come to see her because they had heard of her return, only now to be told that she was a Cymage and was plotting against them. The transport came to a stop and she saw a commotion near the door to the Quorthon. The group of Krigans began to part when she saw Oystein step out from the bar with his pulseaxe in hand, a few of his closest men behind him. He eyed the transports carefully while Zun’thir and his crew stepped out.

“Wild Ones?” Oystein spat on the ground. “What’re ye doing out here? Thought ya didn’t ever leave your wastes behind. There’s nothing for you lot here.”

“We are here to help,” Zun’thir said calmly, a confident smile adorning his face and making his dark features look exotic.

“Help?” Oystein let out a laugh. “Never called for any, I don’t reckon—this is a Krigan matter, we’ll be fine.”

“We brought along a friend,” Zun’thir said, looking down into the transport at Alva. This was her cue, she knew that. She took a deep breath and threw the side door open, stepping out with her pulseaxe in hand while a hush came over the crowd. There were whispers, gasps and even a few shouting at her, calling her “Cymage.”

“A friend?” Oystein refused to make eye contact with her. “Ye know that ye be riding with a Cymage, right?”

“I’m no Cymage,” she said, cutting off Zun’thir, who was winding up to speak. “You know who I am, you know why I’m here. Yes, they did things to me, but I’m here and my intentions are true, Oystein. I was good enough for you to slap my face onto your movement.”

He still refused to make eye contact, instead turning to Zun’thir. “I thought ye Zarr’nids hated the Cymages.”

“She’s no Cymage,” he said. “I’m not sure how I’d categorize her, but you underestimate her. She helped me, helped my boy out. She even convinced us to head all the way down here to help out.”

“What’d she promise you? Bionic death beam eyes?” A few laughs rang out.

“No,” Zun’thir cut through them. “She promised a future. Not only for my people but for everyone. That’s more than we’ve got now, so I figure it’s worth a shot.”

“Oystein,” she approached the mountain of a man, a few of his guards quickly taking point only for him to stop them. “I’m your best hope, you know that. You know who I am and you know they’ll all follow me. I’m here because we all deserve better than this. This movement to you is all about the Krigans, but it’s not just about the Krigans. It’s about everyone, it’s about everyone living under a corrupt government’s iron fist. It’s about our voices no longer being heard and what we can do to change that.

“I’m not perfect,” she continued. “I know that. I should have told you right away what happened to me, just how far they had to go to bring me back, but I was afraid that you wouldn’t trust me. I made a mistake, my old friend, and I am here begging for your forgiveness and also hoping that we can all do this together.”

“The damage is done,” Oystein said, hanging his head. “These people don’t want a Cymage leading them into battle.”

“I am no Cymage.” She stepped forward toward Oystein, pulseaxe extended toward him.

“You back off,” he snarled.

“Oystein,” she called out. “In front of friends, the gods and all present, I challenge you to single combat. I challenge you to prove that I am capable of leading you and the rest to victory.”

“Don’t make me laugh,” he said.

“I saw you bested in single combat once before,” she reminded him, his face turning red.

“I was drunk! That boy didn’t know the rules and—”

“Ingen defeated you,” she stayed calm while the monster raged in front of her. “I was there, I saw it and you know what he turned into. This son of his is no Ingen and we owe it to him to remove him. Either fight with me or fight me right now, Oystein.”

“What would Tyr think if I crushed his sweet princess down?” Oystein said, clearly torn.

“You are afraid,” she goaded him. “Either you trust me or you don’t, but I am no coward, Oystein. I am here to reclaim the throne in Krigar for all of us and I will not let you stand in my way.”

“But your father…”

“My father is dead,” she said, still staring him in the eye. “Don’t make me bury you as well. Come with me and together we can regain his honor and the honor that Ingen lost.”

“Oh goddamnit,” he burst out, tossing his ax to the ground, lunging forward with a right hand. Alva was quick to react, ducking under the blow and driving her shoulder into his stomach. She felt the air escape from him, the giant stumbling back a step before catching himself. Oystein regained his composure before he feinted with another right only to throw a left hand that clipped Alva behind the ear, sending her crashing to the ground. Oystein’s large boot hovered over her, the long shadow looming overhead ominously. She thrust her right arm out, taking a firm grip with her mechanically-assisted grip and twisted, taking control of his body and sending him crashing to the concrete.

“Yield,” she said, standing over him with her fist hovering over his face. “Yield, Oystein.”

“Never,” he spat in her face, pushing her back to the concrete and climbing on top of her. “I yield to no Cymage,” he said, lifting his fists up and bringing them down toward her chest. Alva’s hand darted out, catching it in mid-air. It took all of her power to hold his hands back. The full brunt of his force was coming down toward her and she knew that she had no choice. Alva reached down into her reserves and concentrated, closing her eyes and letting out one big push. Oystein’s body flew off her, crashing into a group of Krigans and leaving Alva dusting herself off. She approached him while he looked up at her in horror.

“It’s okay, old friend,” she whispered into his ear. “Come with us, join us while we assault the palace.”

“Fine,” he spat, holding his hand up toward her. “Tyr would be proud that you turned into such a fierce bitch, you know.”

“I know.”

035. Things Falling Apart

Kara

Throughout everything they had been through Kara had always held out hope that Cronus would turn out alright, that for all his faults and madness, that somehow she’d be able to snap him back into reality. Instead, she was confined to her quarters after he had a meltdown at her trying to get involved in matters of state again. The problem was that he needed help now more than ever. Giger had complemented him with his own brand of madness, making them a toxic pair of madmen salivating over what their next play would be until it all started crumbling down around them.

The news of what they projected to be a gate being constructed by the Earth Ministry with the use of Cydonian technology unlike anyone—even Trallex—had seen before was distressing, to say the least. There was a secret peace agreement that was upheld between the Earth Ministry and the Andlios Republic that Jonah and Peter had worked tirelessly to not only honor but to keep a secret. If those in the Republic had known they were working with the Earth Ministry, there could have been major problems. In hindsight, keeping it a secret only led to more stress down the line, especially for someone like Cronus who so vehemently hated the Earth Ministry and all it stood for. By the time Cronus was of age, his mind was so clouded with hate for them that the very idea that his father had cooperated with them made any respect he may have had for him dissipate into the ether.

None of that really felt like it mattered anymore because the days of Cronus’s reign as the emperor of the Andlios Republic felt like it was coming to a tragic conclusion. The fact that Peter was here in the palace meant that Katrijn was not far behind and while Kara was flustered about seeing her daughter again after so many cycles and how she’d explain to her why she never spoke out against her brother, there were other troubles brewing as well. The natives were restless and there was more and more unrest in the streets, forces converging to undermine and overthrow Cronus while he simply laughed it off. There had been organizations before that looked to usurp him but he had no need to take them seriously; with everything going on, it felt like a critical error to push everyone who cared about him and the Republic away and to undermine them. Then, of course, the monolithic force that was the Earth Ministry was possibly waiting for them and it could mean all-out war.

The problem was that the Andlios Republic was not prepared for war. There were whispers about a secret armada being built in the mountains of Cydonia by Cronus, the whole plan masterminded by Giger, but it felt like the blind leading the blind. The Andlios Republic had never had much of a fleet to speak of, never mind the bodies to operate that fleet and to do it with the efficiency that the Earth Ministry had. Ship-to-ship battles had consumed human history since man went to the stars and somehow they felt that they didn’t need to worry about that in Andlios and even if they were preparing now, it felt like too little, too late.

The bigger problem, of course, was that there wasn’t much she could really do at this point. She had been held inside her room overnight and had simply gone through her normal morning routine to keep her mind occupied, but the sense of impending doom hung eerily over her head throughout her shower, getting dressed and eating breakfast. The guards were all quiet, tense like they knew something was coming. If dogs barked before an impending storm was rolling in then the sullen faces on the usually rigid guards were a beacon to everyone that things were about to get ugly.

Just when she was about to try to make herself comfortable there was a knock at the door. This meant it wasn’t Giger, which at least gave her a sense of momentary relief. Giger had it in his mind that he was just as—if not more—important than anyone else inside the palace. Barring Cronus himself, Giger saw his power as without equal and tended to come and go as he pleased. The last thing she wanted to deal with at this time of day after being “softly” detained would be Alistair Giger and his smug smile relishing in ordering the empress regent around. Instead, it was one of her guards.

“Yes?” She peered out the door.

“Uh, Your Majesty,” he said, stumbling over his words. “The emperor requests your presence at court today.”

“So I can leave, then?” she asked sweetly, trying not to sound agitated.

“Yes, of course, Your Majesty,” he guffawed. “We were only holding you for your own safety.”

“I’m sure of it,” she said. “You’ve done a splendid job, as you can see, I’m quite safe.”

“Good,” he said. “If you’ll just come with me, then.”

He gestured for her to follow him and seeing as though these weren’t her normal quarters, she didn’t feel too bad leaving everything else behind. They were simply things that were given to her during her stay, not her own, which were mostly now on Andal-3. “Why the need for the security, anyway?”

“Well, Your Highness,” he said. “There’s a lot of things going on right now. His Majesty the emperor insists on making a public declaration today, it being the day of his birth and all, and our security has picked up a lot of disturbing chatter.”

“Chatter?” she laughed. “As in?”

“Assassination attempts, organized riots, the works,” he said.

“This doesn’t sound too unusual, especially considering how things have been of late.”

“You are right,” he said. “The problem is that it’s hard to tell who is making idle threats and who is serious anymore. Prime Minister Giger has been keeping a lot of ‘em secret, but there have been more and more lunatics making runs at the palace.”

“Things feel off, don’t they?” she asked while they strode down the quiet, ornate hallway, their footsteps echoing on the marble floor.

“Feels like the bloody end of days, Your Majesty,” he said with no sense of irony while they stood at the door to the audience chamber. “Please, after you.”

036. Crash the Gates

Alva

After watching her father head into so many battles Alva knew what to expect and what to do—to a certain extent. Trallex and the Cydonians had turned her into a new breed of warrior, had given her new life and she was intent not to squander that but was willing to die for what she believed in. Everyone expected it of her and they were all willing to do that themselves, so there was no turning back for her now. She had done what would have been considered the impossible by banding together what scraps were left of the proud Krigan people with the desert-dwelling madmen known as the Wild Ones, the remnants of the Zarr’nid warriors from Zahira.

The bar looked more like a fortress than it did a place where anyone would go to get a drink. The windows were boarded up and reinforced, and guards were posted at every door wearing bright red armbands, pulseaxes in hand. Barbed wire lined the front of the building and the top to ensure that no one would attempt to get in from anywhere but the main doors. There were sharpshooters on the roof as well, but they had never fired a single shot. Outside sat a small fleet of four armored transports led by Zun’thir, as calm as ever and joking around. The Krigans had taken to them quickly when they realized having those armored cars for the assault on the palace would make their lives a whole lot easier.

None of it really mattered, seeing as though there were no major assaults on Quorthon Hall and it was only serving as a staging point now, for today was the day when Andlios would be freed or they would all die in the attempt. Alva did find it a bit unsettling that there was little resistance toward their movement over the previous few months. Either they weren’t taking the movement seriously or they were dealing with other matters, which left her feeling even more unsettled. That didn’t matter now, though—today was their judgment day. Their plan of attack was simple: an advanced team consisting of the Wild Ones with hordes of Krigans aboard were going to head in and disable as many of the defenses as they could and Alva would lead the charge right in the front.

It was bold, it was public and it was perhaps foolish, but it would be inspired. That was the main goal: inspiration. Cydonians weren’t great military tacticians, but they were sneaky. Alva’s mind went back to Trallex and how he had told her to wait and inform him before she moved. There were enough factors and interests tugging at her that his interests were no longer her main concerns. Alva had done everything he had ever asked from her and now was the time for her to act on her own. She assured herself that if everything went according to plan she could deal with him in due time, find out exactly what his angle was. For now, it was about freeing Andlios from Cronus Freeman’s oppressive rule.

“I’m ready.” Oystein emerged from the back room, slapping his pulseaxe down on the bar with a thud. He wore his old scarred battle armor that had seen many a battle in its day.

“Alright,” Alva turned to him, trying to brush aside her fears, partially hoping that he’d be the Oystein she remembered from her childhood. “I guess you and I finally go into battle together, then?”

“Looks like it,” he said.

“Sorry you have to compromise like this, you know, going into battle with a dirty Cymage and all.”

“Bah,” he scoffed, folding his arms. “I went to war many a time for your father and you, my girl, have become just as good of a warrior as your father. He would be proud if he were still with us. I was being an ass. This is the least I can do for penance.”

“Thank you, Oystein. I know that things have been…difficult for us.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” He reached behind and grabbed his pulseaxe, hefting it over his shoulder. “I’m still a fool, a mighty fool at that, but a fool. Thank me once we’ve destroyed this pipsqueak and put you on that throne.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“You aren’t sounding too sure of yourself, princess.”

“No, it’s nothing, really,” she furrowed her brow. “Just the closer it is to a reality, the less and less I see myself sitting on that throne.”

“You somehow pulled us here,” Zun’thir broke into the conversation.

“Aye,” Oystein nodded in agreement. “Who would’ve thought we’d see the Krigans and Zarr’nid banding together like this?”

“Just remain true to your heart, Princess,” Zun’thir said. “Nobody is ready to lead, it is simply a call that some of us answer and learn along the way.”

“Nobody is ready for it, they just deal with it. I was with your father when he became the Jarl of Krigar, then when he came to rule over all the Krigan people. He was never ready, it just happened and he dealt with it.”

“He always seemed to have everything together,” she said.

“Not after your passing, no,” Oystein frowned. “Tyr was never the same again, sadly. Good things happened, even great things happened, but there was a sickness inside him after you passed.”

“I don’t understand,” she took a deep breath. “If he made a deal with Trallex, why would he be so sad?”

“To be fair, none of us knew about that deal and I think that deep down inside he really didn’t believe you’d come back, or if you did that it wouldn’t be you. He was wrong, Alva. You are exactly the woman he had always hoped you’d be.”

“Thanks, Oystein. I guess that’s something, right?”

“Aye,” he shot her a rare, crooked smile. “That it is. Now you’ve got a rebellion to lead.”

“That I do.” She slapped him on the shoulder and took a deep breath, jumping up onto the bar that had served as a rallying point for their revolution over the past few months. “My friends!” The assembled crowd turned and faced her, faces with red paint streaked on them, an assembly of pulseaxes, rifles and plain axes. “Today we show Andlios what we are made of. Today we show this Republic the strength of the Krigan people, the strength of the Zarr’nid and most importantly, the strength of all the people of Andlios. No longer will we live under the oppressive rule of Cronus Freeman. Today we retake Krigar! Today, we retake our destiny!”

A roar rang out throughout the bar, Alva pumping her father’s pulseaxe into the air before springing down off the bar and the crowd parting, giving her a clear path to the door. She marched through the crowd, feeling her heart starting to beat faster and faster. Time had slowed down for her, she could feel the tension in the air around her and knew that if there ever was a time for a confident face that it was now. She kept her expression stony, but her palms were sweating while they gripped onto her father’s pulseaxe.

“The time for speeches has ended,” Zun’thir said to her while she stood in the doorway. “That was a fine one, but now we must ride.”

“Thank you, my friend.” She clasped his shoulder.

“We are united for a cause.” He took a deep breath. “The air smells right, I can smell the gardenias, Princess. We ride.”

They nodded to each other while Zun’thir leaped into action, slapping the side of his transport and jumping into the front, the rest of the Wild Ones boarding up and the uneasy Krigans gripping onto anything they could along the outside, making the already ominous derelict transports look even more fearsome with war-hungry Krigans ready to pounce. The fleet of transports crawled ahead of the rest of the Krigans, Alva and Oystein organizing their ranks. They marched through the streets, Alva out in front, a stern expression on her face and her father’s pulseaxe gripped tightly in hand. At first, there was just the occasional onlooker through windows, then the farther they marched, the more people were out. Some were just there to gawk while others were cheering them on. Street by street they marched, their supporters growing by the end of each block until they were in the Imperial District and it was a struggle to get through the large mass of bodies.

Oystein remained at her side, but she knew he was struggling with this. This wasn’t the kind of battle he had ever envisioned. Without a doubt, she would have preferred a straight, hand-to-hand battle, just Krigans—and their pride—but knew that public opinion was what mattered here. This wasn’t just about Alva or Oystein, this was about all the people and their freedom. There would be blood staining the blade of her ax on this day, but it wouldn’t be now. That didn’t make her any less anxious.

“Miss Hedlund!” A woman was breaking through the crowd, her hand held high with a holoscanner active. “Miss Hedlund!”

“What?” she said, not able to hear her own voice over the chaos of the crowd.

“I’m Florence White of the Krigar Times, what would you say that your plan is today? Is this just a demonstration?”

“She doesn’t have time for this bullshit,” Oystein swatted at her holoscanner, the reporter snatching it up and falling back into the sea of humanity.

A group of guards stood at the palace gates only for the roaring of the engines on the transports to drown out their cries for them to stop in the name of the emperor. Zun’thir revved the engine on his transport and chaos broke loose when he drove full force toward the gates, the guards jumping out of the way and the transport slamming into the gates. They were no match for the transport, quickly giving way while the guards scattered, shouting out orders. The Krigans on Zun’thir’s transport had already hopped off and were attacking the guards, proving to be a rather gruesome display. Alva grimaced at the sight.

“Not what you had expected?” Oystein asked.

“I wanted to give an impassioned speech for them to open the gates,” she said, feeling her stomach churn. “But I’m not going to complain about their methods since I was the one who brought them here.”

“Aye,” he said. “It’s something to behold.”

“Halt,” a guard shouted over the cries of the crowd and the revving of the engines. “In the name of Emperor Freeman and the Andlios Republic! This is an unlawful assembly and you will disperse and return to your homes at once!”

“This is my home,” Alva said with a smile on her face, raising her hands up and motioning for the fighting to cease. There were grumbles but Zun’thir got the message and ordered the Wild Ones to halt and everything seemed to freeze.

“This is the Imperial Palace,” the guard said, clearly with no sense of humor. He marched toward her, ignoring the legions of Krigans behind her or the transports in front of them. He was flanked by two guards who looked uneasy, looking around to see a few of their comrades already laying on the ground bleeding. “You will disperse and return to your homes at once or—”

“Or what?” Alva asked, the grip on her pulseaxe tightening. “Andlios is our home—Krigar is our home! None of us are safe as long as Cronus Freeman is sitting atop that throne. You will tell him to surrender at once and there will be no further bloodshed today.”

“No bloodshed?” The guard chuckled, turning to the guards behind him, who forced out nervous laughs as well. “Your group of barbarians here is very impressive, but Emperor Cronus Freeman fears no—”

“You all heard me warn him, I hope,” she said, quickly hefting the pulseaxe high into the air and bringing the blade down with a sickening thud. The blade cleaved through his ornamental helmet and dug deep into his skull, his knees buckling beneath his body, his ax dropping to the ground with a clang while a hush came over the crowd. Alva placed her foot on his shoulder and with a tug pulled her pulseaxe free from his skull, blood freely flowing from his head and staining her blade. She pushed him over with her boot, the body falling into the other guards. “NOW CHARGE!” she shouted, a roar coming from the crowd and the energy at her back.

Trella

There was a commotion coming from outside her cell—shouting and general confusion. Luckily, Freeman’s men knew very little about Cydonians and made no efforts to block or disable any of her augmentations. Sadly, it was believable, a lot more believable than Trella making the mistake of publicly searching for Alva like she was when she was apprehended. Trella was guided by emotion when she ventured out of the stronghold and the end result was finding herself locked up in the bowels of the palace.

She had never expected that Trallex would not only be in the palace but working for Cronus Freeman. The very idea flew in the face of his mission, but there had to be some pieces of this puzzle that were missing still. Trella focused and pulled up her comm interface, searching the local comms. It would take some degree of deception to gain access to the elite guards’ frequency, but she decided to ignore what she would usually see as off-limits, considering her circumstance.

It was only a matter of seconds before she was able to break into one of the comm channels for the palace guards, and what stood out to her was one name: Trallex. She found herself immersed in his activities and was trying to find the pattern, the key to what he was doing. It was illogical for him to invest so much time and effort into Alva’s training and resurrection if he was simply going to expose her, which meant that he was most likely pulling strings behind the scenes to set up for her coup or he expected her to fail and was working another angle on the side. It made sense to her but seemed more like he could be playing both sides of the game to put himself in a better position no matter the outcome.

Trella, of course, didn’t work into these plans, she was supposed to be locked away on Cyngen awash in the shame of her newfound emotions. She had known that Trallex was disappointed in her and she could only imagine his surprise to discover her on the planet and he knew exactly what she was doing. Trella was a fugitive from Cyngen, after all, so he always had that cover to ask for her detainment. Her heart sank and she felt a swelling of frustration rising up in her, forcing her to start skipping comms aimlessly.

Something was going on—the local police band was calling it a public disturbance—the elite guards were in a panic to secure the emperor and his mother, but it was all terse, coded and obscure. She switched over to a local broadcast only for her heart to skip a beat and her stomach felt like it had jumped into her throat. A still of Alva’s face, sprayed in blood, pulseaxe in hand in front of a giant crowd was in the top corner of the feed, a broadcaster describing a chaotic scene unfolding out in front of the palace. The roar of engines and the clatter of gunfire and weapons clashing filled the air, accented by blood-curdling screams.

Another scan pulled up another newscast of the scene, this one playing a prerecorded scene. This time it was Alva approaching a guard in front of the palace, ignoring the Krigan horde and what looked like a group of modified transports, the guard standing by her, defiant, until Trella saw the telltale sign that Alva was going to slash with an overhead—her hips squared, shoulders swiveled and right foot planted back behind her. It was a beautiful, arcing blow that cut right through his helmet and left him a bloody heap on the ground. They were calling it an act of terror on the broadcast, which made Trella laugh to herself.

This wasn’t terror, this was what Alva had trained her whole life to do. That ax blow to the guard’s head would be the defining moment in her life, a lone act of defiance that would become iconic in the Andlios Republic. It would play on holoscanners for cycles to come, adorn posters and be dramatized in vids. The swell of emotion in Trella was what she could only describe as pride, knowing that she had been so vital in the growth of Alva from a scared girl to this strong image of a woman defying Freeman’s government.

The sound of the latch on the door snapped her back to the cell, the images in her visor dissipating and a crack of light coming through the door growing by the second, which made her visor quickly adjust to the new environment. A man in a pristine white tunic with a red cape draped over his shoulders stood in the doorway, a smirk on his face.

“Who would have thought you were this valuable, little bird?” He shook his head and chuckled.

“Excuse me?” she asked, genuinely curious as to what he was talking about, quickly scanning her databanks to find a match for the face.

“I never trusted that Trallex,” he said. “One day he was just here and Cronus decided that he was more valuable than his prime minister. But this? Ah yes, this is valuable.”

“Prime Minister Giger, I presume?”

“In the flesh.” He outstretched his hands, his knuckle rapping against the steel door, causing him to quickly recoil and suck on his knuckle quickly. “Gods damn it,” he snarled. “Yes, and you, well, Trallex wanted you incarcerated on sight because you were a Cyngen fugitive. I did some more digging, though, and the name Trella has come up through our intel on Alva Hedlund. In fact, it has come up numerous times.”

“I don’t assume to be the only Trella in the Andlios Republic, Prime Minister Giger.”

“Of course not, no,” he said. “But you were the Trella asking after Alva Hedlund. I can put two-and-two together, little bird.”

“I’m not sure I follow,” she said, starting to feel fear washing over her. The last thing she wanted was to possibly get in the way of Alva’s big day, but it seemed like Giger had a plan.

“You will.” His smile was crooked and unsettled her. “Don’t you worry, little bird.”

037. Forced Hand

Jace

There was an odd calm that permeated Jace’s being while he strapped the holster of his gun to his leg and then around his waist. He had never been one for the pulseaxe, but still took one and slung it over his shoulder; even if he simply used it as a rifle at a distance, it would be useful and probably intimidating considering how Krigar was exploding with violence. The last piece was a bandolier with plasma charges hanging off it that he slung over his other shoulder.

He felt like he was a walking armament as he sat on the table in the stronghold’s long hall and glared across the room at the holoprojection of the violence that had broken out in the palace square. Alva Hedlund, the object of Trella’s newly discovered emotions, was at the forefront, leading a group of armed Krigans and crazed Zarr’nids while the whole Republic simply watched it all unfold. This was their time, he knew that. His stomach was doing somersaults and he wasn’t sure what to feel anymore. He had never had to gear up for a battle before, he’d always just stumbled into a battle and done what he needed to do to survive. This wasn’t his battle, he knew that, but somehow he felt like it was his responsibility to see it all through, to do his part to bring some form of justice to their universe.

“You are really serious about this?” Katrijn was standing there, arms folded.

“Look, Katrijn, it’s now or never.” He sprung up to his feet, feeling all his armaments shifting and slamming into him. “We had a plan, yes, but this plan is fucked! O’Neil got snagged on day fucking one! Day one! Then Trella went off to find Alva and try to meld us all together and she got snagged. We’ve run out of options, Kat. Our little band went from five to three in a hurry. What’s next? Loren gets shot or captured, then it’s just you and me.”

“I know that things haven’t been going according to plan, but we have to be patient and…”

“Patience isn’t a virtue—in this case, it just isn’t.” He was doing his best to not come across as angry because the reality was that he was scared. “What’s next, Kat? I’m serious here. Loren goes off on some fool mission and he’s gone, then it’s just you and I. I can’t keep you safe here on Andlios and I’m not even sure I can get the Pequod off this rock, either. They’ll find out about you—then what? It’ll just be me. Then it’ll just be me again, alone, no purpose. All of this is for nothing. We had all agreed that we’d act when the time was right. The time is now or it's never.”

“So you are going to throw your life away because you are afraid of being alone?” Her question cut deep into him. “I thought we had something here.”

“I’m not throwing anything away, Kat.” He looked up at her. “I’m doing what needs to be done. I’m doing this for us, I’m doing this because we’ve come so far.”

“He’s not entirely wrong,” Loren was leaning against the frame of the doorway, biting into an apple. “I’ve had a few brief communications with the Old Man and he’s stuck there, he can’t get out without us.”

“So you are saying that we should just hit the streets and find a way into the palace?” She looked at Loren in disbelief.

“Nobody will be looking for us, we’ll just be three more faces in the uprising of our lifetime,” he shrugged, taking another careful bite of the apple.

“So our plan went from a carefully laid out one where we were to bide our time to just rushing in because some Cydonian plan is in play?” Katrijn looked defeated. “Men.”

“We were biding our time, Princess,” Loren said, inspecting his apple carefully, rotating it before he took another bite. “Were is the key word, though. We aren’t anymore. This is as good of a time as any for us to go.”

“See? I’m not crazy, Katrijn.” Jace was pacing in front of her, adjusting to the extra weight of the weapons. “We wanted to do this covertly and sneaking in while everyone is distracted seems as good of a time as ever.”

“Sure, of course.” She threw her hands up in frustration. “Let’s go in while the palace guards are on full alert! Brilliant plan!”

“Oh, we can avoid ‘em,” Loren mused. “Or at least take ‘em out. I’m not worried about it.”

“So we are just going to march in and worm our way into the palace?”

“More or less,” Loren nodded, taking one last bite of his apple.

The streets were overflowing with chaos. Krigar police forces and Freeman’s elite guards were out in force, but the people of Krigar had flooded the streets, some with makeshift weapons, others with pulseaxes and more unarmed and simply watching it all unfold. It wasn’t difficult for the three of them to slip right into the chaos, descending into the sea of humanity that ebbed and flowed through the streets of Krigar. They were all tributaries feeding into the palace, so they rode the waves.

Jace could feel the energy of the crowd, the hostility and pent up frustration that was fueling their rebellion. He wasn’t alone in his loathing of Cronus Freeman, he understood that much. The people of the Andlios Republic had gone from Jonah Freeman’s best guess at how to rule while being as fair as possible to the exact opposite in his son, Cronus. Cronus was obsessed with power and abused it at every turn. These people, much like Jace, were victims of Cronus Freeman and were no longer going to sit idly by. They were hungry for blood and would not be satiated until he was removed from the throne.

“We’re approaching the palace,” Loren said over their comms. They were each wearing a comm unit due to the noise of the crowd and for when they were inside the palace, in case they were split up. “We break left and head toward the guard entrance. They’ll be too busy to notice and we should be able to slip right in.”

“Got it,” Jace felt his heart beating in his chest.

“Copy,” Katrijn’s voice crackled over the comm.

Jace kept his hand by the holster on his hip, his hand at the ready, prepared to pull his gun out and start blasting at any second. It felt like the crowd was a powder keg just waiting to explode and any little thing would push it over the edge and set it off. The closer they got, the more violence was surrounding them. His thumb hovered over the clip on the holster before he finally flicked the button that was securing it and took a grip of his gun. After a long time of feeling adrift and aimless, it felt like he had a direction, like he had a family of sorts. His mind was still swimming from the prior night with Katrijn, but there was a new resolve inside of him to do anything he could for her.

Loren had his own gun drawn and was holding it by his chest at the ready while Katrijn’s pulseaxe was still slung over her back, but he saw both of her knives in her hands, at the ready. Jace pulled his own gun out and held it close to him like Loren was. Even wearing all this gear and even getting in a few firefights, it still felt foreign to him to be fighting like this. In his mind he was still just the kind of awkward guy who kept his gun merely as a part of the decor, keeping it in plain sight to show that he meant business.

“Weapons free,” Loren’s voice crackled across the comm. “Just remember, we are clearing a path not racking up a body count.”

“Got it,” Jace said, not able to hear his own voice.

“Confirmed,” Katrijn said.

It was like a whirlwind when a shot from Loren’s gun cracked out, sending an unaware guard crashing down. Katrijn jumped into action, her blades swiftly dancing in her hands, the one in the right swinging up and catching a charging guard in the gap where his helmet met his armor, jabbing right into his neck, and the other slashed across his chest, sending him barreling back into the wave of guards behind him.

There was a large group of Krigans ahead of them, with pulseaxes firing and being swung with precision at the guards. Screams rose and fell like a cacophony of violence, blood staining the pristine limestone entrance to the palace. There were deranged looking transports surrounded by men and women in what looked like desert garb covered in blood screaming and slashing with their swords and firing off rounds from shotguns. Jace felt out of place in the middle of such a huge battle, but he did his best to stay alert. Katrijn’s knives kept gracefully moving from guard to guard while Loren moved with precision, only taking shots when he needed to.

Loren pulled Jace over toward him behind a makeshift barricade made from an overturned transport, and Katrijn crouched by them taking deep breaths, her knives dripping with blood. She wiped one of the blades on her boot, staying vigilant. Bodies continued to clash all around them, steel-on-steel and guns being fired with bad intentions.

“Well, this is going well,” Jace shouted, forgetting to use his comm.

“It’s a little hot, sure,” Loren kept calm but found himself shouting into the comm.

“How are we going to get past this? There are at least fifty of them between here and the guard entrance.” Katrijn wiped her other blade without relenting her grip.

“I…” Jace looked down, and it dawned on him that he had the perfect solution. “I think I’ve got it. Just stay down!”

“What?” Loren looked back at Jace while Jace reached down to his bandolier, snatching one of the plasma charges from it and pulling the safety pin out with his teeth. “Hey no, Jace! Wait!”

It was too late, Jace tossed it over the transport into a group of guards while Loren grabbed Katrijn’s head and pulled her down, Jace himself ducking. The boom still sent him reeling back, and it felt like all time had stopped for that brief moment. His ears began to buzz and ring while everyone around him had been sent back a few meters.

Katrijn

“What is wrong with you!” Katrijn was shouting, trying to counteract the buzzing in her ears.

“What?” Jace was clapping his hand over his ear.

“You fucking moron!” She pushed him.

“Hold up, hold up,” Loren was at the barricade, peaking around the side. “I think we’ve got a path, but we’ve gotta go now!”

“Let’s go then.” She picked herself up while Jace dusted himself off.

Loren lept from behind the transport and started running through the confused crowd, gun drawn but picking his shots. Katrijn looked at Jace, who was still getting his bearings. She had been near a plasma charge before and assumed that Loren had as well, and it was clear that Jace had no clue how much damage they could do. For a moment the whole scene melted away and she couldn’t help but laugh at how confused he looked.

“C’mon, dipshit,” she offered her hand to him. “We gotta go.”

“Yeah,” he said, embarrassed.

“Shit!” she shouted, seeing a guard charging for Jace. Katrijn lunged into action, pushing Jace over the transport and out of the way. The guard staggered from his downward swing with his pulseaxe, expecting to meet flesh but instead smashing into the ground. Katrijn flashed forward, her left fist coming up toward his throat in a feint only to deliver a blow with her right blade to his ribs. She felt him reel back in pain, but reach for his sidearm; her left hand swiped in front of his face to cause him to flinch and only to catch his throat on a backswing, a clean slice that went almost unnoticed at first, only for the guard to reach up to his neck seconds later.

Jace pulled himself up from behind the transport and in a flash took a shot that hit the guard in the shoulder and sent him to the ground. Katrijn was furious for a second, then saw the humor in it again. “You really are an idiot, Krios,” she shook her head.

“What?” he asked, incredulous. “I just saved you.”

“Will you two just get over here and help?” Loren’s voice came across their comms.

“Let’s go,” she nodded to Jace, hopping gracefully over the barricade.

The charge had done a lot of damage, there were many guards down and even some Krigans. Jace didn’t think before he threw it and he had probably hurt some they’d consider allies in this whole thing. It was a distraction though, she gave him that. The fighting continued, though, even with injuries and the downed guards. Jace was dodging between combatants while Katrijn held her knives out.

A body slammed into her, it was a Krigan warrior—a woman with fiery red hair and a huge pulseaxe in her hand. The woman turned and both of them stopped, time slowing down around them while they inspected each other curiously. Their eyes met and Katrijn felt the air jump from her lungs. It was Alva, she just knew it even without ever seeing her face before. The flow of time returned when a charging guard came into view, and Katrijn pushed Alva aside and lunged forward with her right blade, catching him with a slash across the chest that momentarily stopped his overhead blow, staggering him back.

In the blink of an eye, Katrijn saw Alva heft her ax over her head and in one fluid movement, her boot met his stomach, him dropping his own ax to the side and her blade came down on his neck. Katrijn felt the life escape from the guard while his body hit the ground. Alva gave her a slight nod, which Katrijn returned before Alva stepped on the man’s shoulder and dug her ax out from his neck.

“Katrijn,” Loren’s voice shook her back to reality. “Where the hell are you?”

“Fuck,” she muttered. “Hold on, I’m on my way.”

“Hurry,” he said. “There should be a clear path, they are distracted.”

The guards were trying to reform their lines but the Krigans and Zarr’nids were relentless in their assault. Katrijn heard a woman’s battle cry from behind, knowing that it was Alva. A part of her felt strange at finally encountering someone her father had held in such high regard and had mourned the loss of for so long. She clearly was alive and this whole day was about her and her bloody revenge.

Katrijn suppressed her instincts while running through what was left of the dazed, confused and injured crowd of guards. None of them were paying her much mind while she ran through along the sides, by the row of hedges that lined the grand entryway to the palace. The stairs were where most of the fighting was happening now and she was headed to the left, where she saw Jace and Loren standing by a door. She vaulted over a fallen guard who was grasping up at her and moved around the stairs to rejoin the both of them.

“Took you long enough,” Jace said.

“I just met Alva, I think.”

“Oh?” Loren’s eyes widened.

“I gotta hear about this.” Jace leaned against the wall, almost oblivious to the chaos around them.

“It can wait,” Loren lashed out, a rare crack in his calm visage.

Both of them quickly quieted down, Katrijn nodding to Loren, whose smile returned shortly after. He was a bit of a mystery to her, but it was interesting to see him looking concerned. She knew this mission was crazy; in fact, she was against it, but the gravity on Loren’s face told her that as soon as they went through that door there was no going back. Her uncle was in there and if nothing else, she needed to free him, but it loomed heavy on her that her brother was in there also and that talking sense into him was most likely beyond the grasp of anyone.

One of them would be walking out of the palace that day and it made her sad knowing that she was going to have to be the one that ended his reign. He had done a lot of truly terrible things, including killing their father, but he was still her brother. A part of her had envisioned their meeting many times; a few times she was able to talk sense into him, able to find the good in him, but more often than not, it ended with her blades carving him up. She wondered if it would make her like him to end his life with glee, or if she’d feel regret at doing it.

“Earth to Kat,” she felt Jace’s hand on her shoulder, shaking her. “C’mon, Kat, we gotta go.”

“I’m here,” she said, almost wondering if she was truly there. It felt surreal being back at the palace again, like a fever dream of her childhood, more like a nightmare thanks to the blood and gore littering the limestone.

She took in a deep breath and walked into the door, stepping foot into the palace for the first time in many cycles—for the first time since she had seen her father dead in his bed. The guard room was empty save for a few guards in the corner who had been injured and came in to escape the fray, who were either dead or passed out, she couldn’t tell and wasn’t about to check.

“I’m home,” she whispered.

038. The Bait and the Prey

O’Neil

O’Neil wanted to muse on how strange it was to be back in the audience chamber inside the palace, but every breath he took felt more difficult than the last, the diagnostics telling him that his artificial lung was acting at 15% and his heart at 20%. At least he wasn’t restrained, although they knew he wouldn’t go anywhere with all the guards in place. No one but Giger knew about the knife that had been driven into his chest, though—at least no one had mentioned anything. He was doing his best to keep his composure, but he was still doubled over in pain, every breath difficult. Cronus sat on his throne looking haggard while Giger stood next to him, whispering into his ear. The side door squeaked open and a few guards appeared, leading in a figure, and O’Neil looked away then quickly back, recognizing the face.

“Kara?” he asked, unsure of himself.

“Oh, Peter.” She pushed through the guards and ran up to him, meeting him with a warm embrace that almost threw him to the ground, and he had to reach to the chair behind him to stabilize himself. He didn’t want anyone to know what happened or even that he had augmentations. They had finally called him to see Cronus and he knew that things were reaching a head in Krigar.

“My gods, Peter, what have they done to you?”

“What a touching reunion,” Cronus jested. “Krigar falls apart at this very moment while you two are just happy to see each other. Some advisors. One secretly turned himself into a Cymage, the other betrayed her own son.”

“You sent me away, Cronus,” O’Neil turned to the emperor, doing his best to ignore the Cymage comment. He was feeling weak and was leaning against Kara’s shoulder, her doing so without as much as a request or even a nod, just simply doing so in a way that let him keep his dignity. “You sent your mother away as well.”

“So I did,” he said.

“Cronus,” Kara said, motioning toward him, but still helping to hold O’Neil up. “We always did the best we could for you.”

“I’m sure none of this would have happened if I had kept you two here on Andlios with me, correct?”

“More or less,” O’Neil said.

“You see, my lord, this is the kind of deception I told you about,” Giger said loud and clear. “This was why I recommended you send these two far away.”

“Yes, well,” Cronus motioned with his hand for Giger to move back. “Perhaps I put a bit too much weight on your advice, Giger. The Senate was a bother, but it was a hassle I could control, but now this,” he threw his hands out toward the projections lining the room of the chaos just outside of the walls. “This is where we are now.”

“Cronus,” Kara’s voice was soothing and calm, and she approached the throne and sat in her old chair. “I know this is hard for you, but you know the right thing to do here, don’t you?”

“Sire, if I may—”

“Giger.” Cronus was seething. “Unless you have a solution to this undead bitch and her men slaughtering all my elite guards for the whole Republic to see right now, I don’t want to hear it. Gods, even those desert crawlers are there with her—how could this happen without me being alerted?”

O’Neil knew Cronus well enough to see that Giger had quickly fallen out of favor with the fickle emperor of the Andlios Republic. Things were falling apart and the architect was going to take the brunt of the blame—not that O’Neil felt bad for Giger. The failing vital signs that his diagnostic read to him earlier assured that. This was Giger’s gamble, his attempt to rise to prominence and find himself in power. He was just the kind of person who could convince Cronus to do something rash—and he did—but he wasn’t the kind of man who thought beyond his own machinations and studied the world.

It was the years of working with the Freemans that helped give him perspective on just how their decision-making process went. While Jonah was different than Cronus, there was only a thin line separating the two men. One was the idealist who wished for everyone to get what they wanted, but understood that there would be unfortunate costs along the way. The other was a fatalist, believing that humanity just needed to be controlled and told what to do, that they were simply pawns in his game but that there would be a light at the end of the tunnel. As flawed as Cronus was, he still had a vision for the future that involved the people better off, it was just difficult to see through the mire that was his blind rage and greed.

“Bring her in,” the embarrassed Giger barked at the guards, the door flying open and another set of guards leading a figure into the room. For the second time that day O’Neil found himself taken aback at who walked through the door, this time bound at the hands and feet. “This,” Giger boasted. “Is a dear personal friend of Ms. Alva Hedlund.”

“It’s a Cymage,” Cronus chuckled. “What is your game, Giger?”

“What is she doing here?” Trallex, who had been quietly standing back along the wall with the guards, buzzed.

“She’s insurance against something like this,” Giger motioned toward the chaos unfolding on the feeds. “That’s what she is.”

“I’m not sure I follow.” Cronus folded his hands on his lap. “Is this another one of your ill-fated plans, Giger?”

“No, my lord.” Giger looked insulted, ready to break down. “I’ve always had your best interests at heart, my emperor. You see, there was something Trallex wasn’t telling you—”

“Tread lightly here,” Cronus said, Trallex perking up against the wall. “I won’t have you forget that blasted thing out in space that was brought to our attention? Trallex is working very hard to get to the bottom of that.”

“I’m sure he is,” Giger said. “But I have reason to believe that this one is valuable to our insurrectionist out there.”

“Go on.” Cronus perked up slightly.

“Our intel has shown that Alva Hedlund has mentioned the name Trella numerous times to her followers. Our men who we placed inside her organization have reported the name to us on multiple occasions. Then Trallex issues an order to have her picked up on sight and we pick her up trying to find Alva Hedlund?”

“I see,” Cronus said.

“Truly pathetic,” Trallex hissed, stepping forward with his hands clenched behind his back. “My lord Freeman, this is merely circumstantial evidence and hearsay from a man who has clearly fallen from favor and looks to get back into your good graces through any means possible. Trella 4967 is a fugitive from Cyngen, she was sent into isolation after she exhibited disturbing behavior—mostly for her own good—and escaped.”

“For all we know Alva Hedlund was on Cyngen, Cronus!” Giger was growing desperate.

“I’m in charge of governing Cyngen,” Trallex spun on his heel to face Giger. “Are you implying that I’ve somehow harbored a fugitive?”

“That isn’t—”

“Then what are you implying, Alistair?” Cronus sounded tired and like he was running out of patience.

“Sire, it’s that clearly Hedlund and Trella have some sort of relationship, that we could use her to stop—”

“I’ve heard enough,” Cronus interrupted him. “You’ve shown time and time again that you are rather rash with your decisions. For all we know, there is no connection and you are simply grasping at straws, Alistair. Guards, return her to her cell until Trallex is able to return her home.”

“But Cronus—”

“And Giger,” Cronus interrupted again. “Get out of my sight, I’ll have no more of you today. There is enough on my mind. Let the adults sort this out.”

“As you wish.” Giger turned red, but bowed deeply and stormed out of the room.

Not only was chaos on Cronus’s doorstep, but chaos was inside his court as well. O’Neil couldn’t help but notice that everything that could go wrong was going wrong. A part of him still wanted to help the boy, but it was beginning to feel like a futile endeavor to even bother, that he had so clearly lost his way and was in well over his head.

“Emperor,” O’Neil cleared his throat. “I’m curious as to this device you are talking about in deep space?”

“I’m not sure what there is to say, Uncle,” Cronus’s tone toward O’Neil was oddly softened considering that just a few months prior O’Neil was exiled to Helgun. “It’s out by Gimle and Trallex has sent out a few ships to survey it.”

“Reports have been inconclusive, to say the least.” Trallex was standing in the center of the room, and it became abundantly clear to O’Neil who was in charge of the room at that moment. “We are still running scans on it. It is definitely man-made, we know that much, and Cydonian technology is an integral part of it.”

“But this isn’t yours?” O’Neil asked, trying to stay calm and control his breathing.

“No, Mr. O’Neil.” Trallex remained still, ominous. “It is most definitely not ours. There is proof of activity out there, though.”

“By Gimle?” O’Neil asked, taken aback. That didn’t make sense—while Gimle was a resource-rich part of the Republic, they had yet to really reach that far out and colonize the area. There had been talks of maybe converting one of the moons into a station, but it would take many cycles of preparation and mining local resources to have the ability to build a station there. In fact, most of the Andlios Republic were settlements on inhabitable planets and moons, with Cyngen standing out the most because of it existing in a system of underground caverns. “There shouldn’t be any signs of activity by Gimle.”

“Yes, well.” Cronus looked uncomfortable. “We have more pressing issues to worry about right now.”

Kara

“Peter, we have trouble.” Kara had dragged Peter out of the audience chamber into the hallway, since Cronus was too distracted to really care what happened.

“That’s what I’ve gleaned from the situation, yeah,” he said, visibly looking pained. “Also, I’m glad you are doing well. Jack and Hideo took good care of you, I’m assuming?”

“Yes, of course,” she said. “They were a delight, but Peter, that’s not the problem.”

“You are telling me.” He was leaning against the wall and looking pale.

“What?” She looked up at him, concerned. She had known there was a plan in action, but it had escaped her mind after all that had happened since she returned to Krigar. “Are you alright? You don’t look okay, Peter.”

“I’ll explain later,” he let out a deep sigh. Something was very clearly wrong with him, though. “What’s wrong?”

“That device in the sky they have been talking about?”

“Yeah, what in the name of the gods is that all about?”

“It’s Earth, Peter, I just know it.”

“What?” The look on his face took a turn for the grave, and he rubbed his temples. “How? He didn’t, did he?”

“We’ve kept relations with Earth quiet since you and Jonah sent Navarro and the Fourth Fleet away, we’ve kept the illusion up that they’ve stayed away, but Cronus wasn’t equipped to handle this. You know how he is.”

“This is my fault,” he said. “I was always the one who handled Earth relations, I should have pushed harder when Cronus transferred that to one of his cronies.”

“He didn’t transfer it to anyone, Peter,” she said. “He handled it himself.”

Peter simply stood there, staring off into space for a moment, the silence growing awkward and uncomfortable and his skin looking more and more pallid. Kara could feel her palms sweating and wanted to know what was going through his head. “That’s the worst possible thing I’ve heard all day.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

“Is there somewhere we can go to talk?” He looked around at the guards lining the hallways. “I need to sit down, at least.”

“His guards haven’t left my side since I arrived, I doubt they will now. Peter, it’s time to put all our cards on the table.”

“I guess it is,” he let out a sigh.

“He brokered a deal with the Earth forces, one that he claimed would leave them satisfied for good. No more payments to them.”

“I’m guessing that it wasn’t the best decision?”

“No.” She let out a strained laugh at the absurdity of their situation. “Of course not, it’s Cronus. He offered them the resources of Gimle for them to not attempt to interfere with us again.”

“So he gave them a foothold into Republic space?”

“More or less, yes,” she said. “But Peter, it was working just fine.”

“Oh?” He looked surprised. “But ‘was.’ What happened for it to go south?”

“It’s Cronus,” she said bluntly, feeling the sadness well up inside of her that she had to think of her son in such a way. “After a matter of weeks, he changed his mind and was uncomfortable with having an Earth presence within our borders…”

“Don’t tell me he attacked them.”

“He did,” she said, fighting back the tears. “Of course he did.”

“So what is that structure out there in space, then?”

“We don’t know,” she said. “But Trallex believes it might be a gate of some sort.”

“A gate? How?”

“They aren’t sure, they aren’t even sure how it was constructed because there have been no Earth forces detected in the area for a while now. It was just there one day.”

“My gods.” O’Neil slumped back against the wall again, clutching at his chest. “What has he done? That fool.”

“Peter, if I had known you were here, if I had known they had picked you up, I would have pushed for Cronus to let you out, for us to figure this out together, but…”

“It’s fine, Kara.” He looked up at her, a pained look on his face. “What’s done is done.”

“So what was it that has you so concerned?”

“Katrijn,” he said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Katrijn was heading here right now or gods, if she was already here inside the palace.”

“Kat?” Her heart skipped a beat. “She’s here? I knew you were bringing her back here and that you had a plan, but what was this plan?”

“It’s in the wind now, I guess,” he said. “When they discovered me here on Andlios I quickly surrendered before they could figure out who was here with me. But the general idea of the plan was that we’d bide our time and find a way to break her into the palace and dispose of Cronus.”

“No.” She shook her head, feeling the horror wash over her. “No, this can’t be. Peter, if that truly is a gate and Earth is planning something, we need Cronus on the throne. We need Cronus to take responsibility. Now is not the time for a power play, there is more at stake than a legacy or a throne.”

“Don’t I know it,” he said, pushing himself off of the wall and struggling to keep himself upright. “I don’t have access to any comms anymore, so I can’t reach out to Loren or Katrijn, and they have Trella now…”

“You know her?”

“Yes,” he said. “She came here with us. She was one of our aces, actually. She helped raise Alva on Cyngen.”

“So Trallex was lying?”

“When isn’t he?” They both laughed at their distrust of the Cydonian leader. “Giger was somehow actually correct about something. In fact, I’m worried what he might do; that dressing down from Cronus was pretty brutal.”

“So she does know Alva, then?”

“Trallex had an agreement with Tyr to revive Alva and to keep her safe, but it looks like Trallex had another idea and she was his ticket to overthrowing Cronus and installing her in power as his puppet.”

“That plan has worked quite well, I must say.” She took a deep breath. “Since I’ve been back I’ve noticed more and more of her supporters. They are everywhere, I mean, look at what is going on out there right now.”

“It looks like today is the last day of Cronus’s rule,” he said. “This is what I’ve been actively working for now for many cycles, but I wanted it to be peaceful. You know that, don’t you, Kara?”

“Of course, remember when we first met about this? When you first started to trust me? That night in your garden?”

“Yes, I do.” A smile broke through his pained face toward her. “But I thought we might be able to do it peacefully—put him on trial, exile him or something. I never wanted there to be blood spilled. Jonah feared what Cronus might become, but he still loved Cronus very much and I’m sure even knowing that Cronus would murder him he would have wanted mercy for Cronus.”

“It looks like the time for mercy has passed,” she said, sullen. “He’s made a lot of enemies, it seems.”

“For right now we’ll deal with this one problem at a time, alright? If you can get me comm access I can try reaching out to some of my old Earth contacts to see how much of a threat that gate is. There might still be time. As for Alva and Katrijn, I can try to reach out to Katrijn but the only way I could possibly reach out to Alva is if you can get Trella freed.”

“That’s a tall order, Peter, you know that.” She crossed her arms. “That would mean explaining all of this to Cronus and you know he’s far from level-headed.”

“You are the empress, Kara.” He smiled at her. “You aren’t detained like I am, you can do whatever you damned well please.”

“That's…” She burst out laughing. “That’s a fine point, Peter. C’mon, we have work to do.”

039. The Palace

Alva

Alva’s chest heaved, her lungs fighting to regulate her air intake while she stood on the steps of the palace. Oystein flanked her while the rest of the Krigans and Wild Ones clashed with what was left of the guards and police. Her father’s pulseaxe was in her right hand, the blade scraping along the steps and leaving a trail of blood behind it. She knew it wouldn’t be easy, that it would be a bloody affair to storm the palace, but never in her wildest dreams did she imagine it being like this.

She surveyed the scene, a collection of severed limbs, injured men crying out in pain and lifeless corpses that would never take another breath thanks to Alva and her friends. This was how it had to be, she reminded herself. If there was a way to win back Andlios without blood she would have done it, but their culture was drenched in the blood of the elders, in the blood of the Krigans, Helgeans, Zarr’nid and Cydonians. All were complicit in Andlios’s gore-filled past and all would understand the display she left for them today. Battles from Andliosian history had always been brutal and bloody, always a focus on melee, hand-to-hand combat and as little use of firearms as possible.

“Quite a scene,” Oystein spat on the ground; Alva was unsure if the blood was already on the ground or from his mouth. Neither would have surprised her, with both of them sporting new wounds from the battle that raged on around them.

“We aren’t done yet,” she said.

“Aye, we aren’t,” he laughed, hefting his ax up onto his shoulder. “Tyr would have been proud, you know.”

“That’s what I was aiming for,” she said. “Now it’s time to do something that both Ingen and my father would be proud of.”

“That it is,” he smirked, stomping toward the grand wooden door to the palace. He shifted the ax off his shoulder, transitioning it into both hands before he lifted it over his head and brought it down with a mighty crash into the gap between the two towering doors. He swung again, this time the doors slightly giving way. Finally, he pulled his foot up and slammed his boot into the door, the doors jumping open, splinters flying everywhere. “We’re home, Princess Alva. After you,” he motioned for her to enter the palace.

“Why thank you, Oystein,” she smiled at him, feeling the end of their journey finally in view. “We are indeed home, aren’t we?”

“I wouldn’t celebrate so quickly,” a voice came from the balcony above the entryway. They both looked up to see a man dressed in white with a cape slung over his back, a saber hanging off of his right side, a sidearm on his left.

“Are you our tour guide?” Oystein joked.

“No, you fools,” he said. “I am Alistair Giger, the Prime Minister of the Andlios Republic and you are intruding.”

“Okay,” Alva looked over to Oystein and laughed. “Thank you for informing us of that, now if you’ll kindly show us to your master.”

“You think you are clever, don’t you?” He sneered at them, his gloved hands resting on the banister. “But you aren’t as clever as you believe you are, at least not more clever than I am. Emperor Freeman is too busy to deal with the likes of you.”

“I’m sure he’ll enjoy it when we deliver your head as a centerpiece for him,” Oystein joked, although Alva understood that Oystein was likely to deliver on that promise.

“Such brutes,” Giger said. “You think you’ll win the throne with such displays? This isn’t the Krigan warlord days anymore. The people are civilized now, they’ve learned under Cronus Freeman’s reign.”

“They’ve learned fear,” Alva retorted. “They’ve learned about brutality and injustice.”

“So you are here to change that, then?”

“Yes,” she said. “Frankly, we don’t have time for this, Prime Minister Giger.” She motioned for Oystein to climb the right set of stairs while she set for the left, effectively surrounding Giger at the top of the stairs.

“Aye, and you don’t seem to have any sort of backup, now do you?” Oystein was advancing on him, carefully clomping up the stairs in his massive boots, his pulseaxe gripped in both hands.

“That’s not entirely true,” he sighed, turning to the door behind him and opening it, pulling a bound woman with a sack over her head roughly behind him. “I have her.”

“And she is?” Alva asked, puzzled and amused.

“You know her quite well, I think.” He pulled the hood off, tossing it off the balcony. The sack fell gracefully to the polished marble floors, landing in one of the pools of blood left by Alva and Oystein while Alva’s jaw dropped.

“Trella?” She couldn’t believe her eyes. “Trella, is that you?”

“Go ahead,” Giger pushed her. “Speak.”

“Alva,” Trella’s voice sounded uneasy, with a cadence that Alva had never heard before. “It’s me.”

“My gods,” she muttered. “I…what are you doing here, are you alright? Have they hurt you? By Freyja if you hurt her I will carve you up—”

“She’s fine, Ms. Hedlund,” Giger was becoming more and more arrogant by the moment. “In fact, you three can walk out of here together, just lay down your arms.”

“You know this Cymage?” Oystein grunted over to her.

“Aye,” Alva said. “She was my only friend on Cyngen, she got me through some tough times.”

“So this is Trella, then?”

“That it is,” Alva said, keeping her eyes on Giger for any sudden movements.”Trella, my friend, we are going to get you out of this.”

“Don’t listen to him, Alva,” Trella said. “You’ve come too far to throw this all away for me. Forget about me.”

“What?” Alva looked on, incredulous. “Forget about you?”

“Don’t be a fool, Ms. Hedlund.” Giger tightened his grip on Alva. “Step back, throw down your weapons, send your people home and I’ll personally arrange to have you all transported to wherever you like. You can live happily ever after, don’t you see? Just walk away. Just walk away.”

“Trella, I’m so sorry,” Alva was fighting back tears. “If I had known, I would have come for you sooner, I…I…”

“It’s okay, Alva, I came here in search of you. Trallex locked me away, flagged me as a danger to myself and to Cydonians. I had to find you though, I had to try.”

“Oh sweet Trella,” Alva kept advancing, slowly, to not set Giger off. “I don’t know what to say, I don’t—”

“Stop right there!” Giger shouted, pulling his gun from its holster and pointing it at Oystein, then to Alva before resting it by Trella’s temple. “For fuck’s sake do you not hear what I’m saying? Am I invisible? I have the power here, not you!”

“Oh fuck off already,” a voice came from down the hall, and Giger quickly spun with his gun, only for a shot to ring out and hit him in the hand. He cried out in pain, dropping the gun and loosening his grasp on Trella only for a man to dash toward him and tackle him to the ground, sending Trella reeling back.

Alva rushed up the stairs, bounding up three steps at a time before she slid to cradle Trella’s head in her arms. Tears were flowing from her eyes freely now while she looked down at the masked face she had dreamt about every night since she left Cyngen. Trella pushed herself up to her elbows and looked over to the men struggling on the ground.

“Jace?” Trella asked.

“Who?” Alva asked her.

“That is Jace Krios, he helped bring me here.”

“In the flesh,” Jace was standing over Giger, looking back at Trella and Alva. “See, I’m not that bad of a shot, am I?”

“You’ve improved,” Trella said.

“This must be that Alva you’ve spoken about, huh?”

“It is,” Trella nodded.

“Well shit,” Jace scratched the back of his head with his gun. “Looks like it’s all converging now, isn’t it?”

“I guess so,” Trella said, Alva helping her to her feet.

“I’m just happy to be a part of the—shit!” Jace grasped at his side, looking down to see a chunk of his shirt missing and a gash in its place. Giger was on one knee, his saber in hand, seething with anger.

“You little shit!” Giger snarled. “I’ll bring your head to Cronus if it's the last thing I do.” Giger sliced at Jace again, who jumped back, clumsily pulling his pulseaxe off his back. He brought it up just in time to block a jab from Giger, moving in and kicking Giger in the stomach, pushing him back.

“Jace!” Trella shouted out.

“I’ll be fine!” he shouted, parrying another blow with the hilt of his ax. He looked outmatched to Alva—Giger looked like a skilled duelist, even with his right hand out of the equation. “You all just go do what you are going to do!”

“Let’s go, Alva,” Trella looked at her. “Jace can handle himself.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“He’ll be fine; we need to go.” She looked back at Jace, who was locked in close with Giger, headbutting him, who was completely unprepared for such an unseemly move. Trella couldn’t help but let out a giggle. “Jace!” she shouted over the clash and grunts. “Where’s Katrijn?”

“She’s headed to the audience chamber right now with Loren, just go!” he grunted. “I’ve got this, okay?”

“Let’s go,” Alva said, trusting Trella’s opinion, motioning for Oystein to follow.

“You will do no such thing!” Giger gritted his teeth, looking back at Alva for a brief second, giving Jace an opportunity to land an elbow to his jaw, sending him reeling back.

“Fuckin’ waste of flesh,” Oystein grunted, walking by the battle before pausing and taking a swing with his ax, it biting into the back of Giger’s knee. Giger shouted out in pain and dropped to his back, clutching at his knee with his right hand while desperately searching for his saber with his left.

“Thanks,” Jace was battling for his breath. “I didn’t need it, though.”

“I know,” Oystein shrugged. “I just don’t like this piece of shit.”

“Oystein,” Alva called, amused but reminding herself that they had a larger battle ahead of them, plus the thought of Katrijn Freeman being there had unsettled her a bit. “We’ve gotta go, I think he can handle this.”

“Aye, Princess,” Oystein grunted, spitting on Giger before turning and following in tow.

Trella

The clash of weapons between Jace and Giger filled the hall while her heart continued to flutter in her chest. She had finally found Alva, whose hand was tightly grasped in her own leading her down the hallway with a brute of a man next to them. It was Oystein, she knew that—she had heard tales of him many times, but it felt odd seeing him in the flesh like that. Everything was overloading her senses at the moment, to the point where she had to find a way to calm herself down.

“Alright,” Alva stopped, kneeling down before Trella and pulling a small knife from her boot. “Let’s get these restraints off you and regroup for a second here.”

“You knew that guy?” Oystein asked Trella while keeping his eyes scanning the hallway. There was a lack of guards due to the scene outside, but Trella had been in the throne room and knew how many guards were with Cronus.

“Yes,” she said, feeling the restraints fall away. “He’s Jace Krios, captain of the Pequod. He helped to smuggle me, Prime Minister O’Neil, Katrijn Freeman and one of O’Neil’s operatives onto Krigar.”

“You’ve been pretty busy, haven’t you?” Alva smiled at her, strands of her hair stained a deeper shade of red and sticking to the side of her face. “I always thought I’d have to blast back to Cyngen to get you.”

“You were really going to come to get me?” Trella asked.

“Of course I was.” She looked up at Trella, her eyes starting to mist over. “I thought about you every day, Trella, I—”

Trella, with her newly freed hands, quickly wrapped her arms around Alva, almost sending them both crashing to the pristine marble floor. She could feel the range of emotions inside her running the gambit, but mostly feeling overwhelmed with how comfortable she felt about herself after feeling unsure for so long. Her mask was starting to quickly combat the condensation accumulating on her face but she didn’t seem to notice or care, she just didn’t want that moment to end.

“I know,” Trella said.

They stood there in an embrace for what felt like just an instant, but Trella’s internal sensors told her that it was a solid minute before Oystein cleared his throat, “While I’m not one to break up a reunion or anything…”

“Right, sorry Oystein,” Alva pulled back, and Trella picked herself up and watched Alva lean on her pulseaxe to help her to her feet. “We have a mission, don’t we?”

“Aye, that we do,” he grunted. “We still don’t know what we’ll be facing ahead of us and it’s been a long day as it is.”

“I do,” Trella said.

“Do you?” Oystein looked at her with his one eye, his haggard face showing his age even if his body was in deceptively good shape for his age.

“Yes,” she said. “Giger had initially brought me to the audience chamber to present this plan of his to Cronus. I counted approximately 12 of Cronus’s elite guards. Four on him, two on each of the three doors and two in the hallway.”

“We can handle that, can’t we?” Oystein looked at Alva.

“Yeah, that is definitely something the three of us can handle,” she confirmed, looking back to Trella. “Although we need to get you a weapon.”

“Oh,” she reached to her hip and pulled out Giger’s gun. “I snatched this after Jace shot Giger’s hand.”

“Ha!” Oystein let out a deep laugh, slapping her on the back. “I like this one!”

“I do too, Oystein, I do too,” Alva smiled warmly at Trella.

“Now, which way is it again, anyway?” Oystein scratched his head. “I haven’t been in this blasted place in cycles.”

“Follow me,” Alva pointed down the hall.

They walked carefully down the hall, Alva taking up the center, Oystein on her right and Trella on her left, gun primed and her heart beating rapidly in her chest. She had augmentations that could control it, but something about it all made her feel so alive, so much more human than she had in her whole life. Oystein was about to round the corner at the end of the hall when Alva caught him, pulling him back against the wall. “If Trella is right, there should be two guards posted over there,” she whispered.

“Aye, I forgot how close we were,” Oystein tried to whisper, his voice remaining gruff and somewhat loud. “What do we do now? I vote we blast ‘em.”

“No,” Trella shook her head. She tucked the gun into her belt, her hood draped over it and covering it up. “Be ready on my signal.”

“What’s the signal?” Oystein asked.

“You’ll know,” Alva smiled.

Trella took a deep breath and tripped out from around the bend, catching herself against the wall and catching the guards’ attention. “My gods,” she muttered.

“You there!” the right guard shouted out.

“It’s that Cymage from before,” the left one said, raising his rifle.

“Yes, yes,” she said, breathless. “You must come quickly, they’ve attacked Prime Minister Giger, he was hurt and sent me to get help! You must come now.”

“Fuck,” the one on the right looked to his companion. “Let’s go.”

They dashed from their position, slipping slightly on the polished floor while they ran toward the corner. Trella focused and sent a low pulse around the corner, which she knew Alva would recognize. When the first one rounded the corner, she heard a yelp only for the second one to turn the corner and run right into Oystein. Oystein swung his ax in a brutish motion, it dancing in an arc and the blade slamming into the ribs of the guard, penetrating the armor and sending him spilling to the ground. Oystein quickly planted his boot on the guard’s jaw before pulling his ax out and slamming it down across his face, blood spraying out onto Oystein’s already stained face while he cackled. The other guard was hurt but was clawing his way around the corner, shouting out. Alva descended upon him with an overhead blow, bringing the ax down onto his shoulder that left him crying out. Trella quickly pulled the gun out and shot him in between the eyes.

“I had that,” Alva said, slumping back onto her knees.

“I know,” Trella said. “I just didn’t want anyone to hear him anymore.”

“See,” Oystein laughed, wiping his blade on the downed guard’s shirt. “I like this one.”

They gathered up in front of the doors, weapons at the ready, Alva and Oystein caked with blood—most of it from others, some of it their own. Alva was sporting a gash on her thigh that they had quickly bandaged up, and Oystein had a gash on his right arm and was favoring his ribs on his right side. Trella’s internal sensors told her she was relatively undamaged. She knew Alva had the ability to scan herself as well and wondered if she was doing so, but didn’t bother to say anything.

“It’s going to get hot in there.” Oystein stood at the door. “You two ready for this?”

They both nodded and he smirked, bringing his large boot up and smashing it into the door, and it burst open with a loud crack.

040. Meeting of the Minds

Jace

His side stung and he didn’t feel like budging off the wall he was leaning against. Jace gripped at his side, with the pulseaxe laid across his chest, his right hand still grasped onto it and afraid to let go of it. There were a lot of things in his life he had never done before and dueling someone was one of those things—until now—especially the part where he had to kill the man. He had only heard of Alistair Giger, but now he was intimately aware of many sides of Alistair Giger, including the look in his eyes as his life left his body.

Jace wasn’t particularly skilled with the pulseaxe and was, in fact, a bit embarrassed that after Oystein had given him an opening that put Giger on his back that he didn’t just finish the fight there. He felt a responsibility to let Giger die an honorable death and it was almost the end of Jace’s life instead. Giger pulled out a dagger while Jace waited for him to get up and got a solid slash in on his left forearm. It wasn’t deep, but it stung and gave Giger a chance to regain his composure.

The strike that came from Giger’s saber almost connected, but Jace reacted quickly enough to deflect the blow with the hilt of the ax but was knocked back. Giger continued with a flurry of right and left slashes that backed Jace into the wall. The color went back into Giger’s face as he believed he had the upper hand, but he wasn’t expecting Jace to swing his ax down near his legs and hit the back of his left knee—the one that the big guy hadn’t hit—which sent him down to the ground.

There was no remorse left in Jace at that point, only the will to survive and he brought the ax down with a thud onto Giger’s face. Jace had expected there to be more to killing a man than that—more drama, more last words and regret—instead, his body simply twitched violently while his eyes were wide open and in a heartbeat, he was gone. Alistair Giger was deceased and it was at the hands of Jace Krios. This was only a small piece of revenge but it felt disconcerting, not like he had helped to dispose of one of the heads of the snake.

Jace leaned forward, picking himself up with a grunt, favoring where Giger had slashed at his stomach and opened up a cut. He looked down at the lifeless body of Giger and noted how his once-pristine white suit was drenched in blood, dark crimson up by the collar and only a splattered pink near the bottom in some places. His job was done, though. When he saw Trella in danger, he urged Loren and Katrijn to run on ahead while he took care of Giger. There weren’t many times in his life where he got to be heroic and while it might still be questionable and bungling, he did ensure that Trella went free. The added bonus was seeing her reunited with Alva, even if he knew that there were going to be some complications with their plan knowing that Alva was not only in the palace but she was en route to the audience chamber and to claim Cronus Freeman’s head.

“You stay here.” Jace patted Giger’s chest only to recoil at how damp it was, wiping his hand on his pant leg. Trella, Alva and that big guy had gone down the hallway, which meant they had hopefully cleared a path to wherever they were heading. It seemed like they knew where they were going, as did Loren and Katrijn. The irony, of course, was that Jace had never even been near the palace, never mind inside it and had no clue where he was going. It seemed like everyone else did, though.

The hall was clear, which felt eerie considering that it was the palace and there was most likely thousands upon thousands of people wandering the halls at any given time. He saw two bodies up ahead and his heart skipped a beat, hoping that it wasn’t Trella or her friends. He quickened his pace only to see the distinctive uniforms of Cronus’s elite guards and felt a wave of relief come over him. They had both been brutalized, which made Jace feel a lot worse about his butcher-job on Giger just down the hall. He rounded the corner, only to hear the sound of raised voices. His senses were on full alert and it became clear to him that he was about to enter another tense situation. Before advancing, he doubled back around the corner, looking down at the guards and finding an elite guard rifle, slinging his pulseaxe over his back and picking up the rifle. It felt more his speed and depending on the situation, running into that room with his sidearm didn’t feel right.

He took a deeb breath in a feeble attempt to calm his nerves and rounded the corner, approaching the doors with his rifle at the ready. The doors had a split near where they met and looked like they had been bashed in. The closer he got, the louder the shouting got. Jace sidled up along the side of the door and peered in only to find his view partially obstructed by the other door. Gently he pushed at it with the muzzle of the rifle, hoping it wouldn’t creak or alert anyone to his presence.

“You’re all being fools,” O’Neil’s voice carried throughout the room.

“You’re the fool for stooging for this tyrant!” Jace recognized the voice as Alva’s, and peered around the door to see her with her pulseaxe around the throat of one of the guards. Trella and their brutish companion were being held by two guards.

“You don’t understand the larger implications here, Alva,” O’Neil sounded pained, tortured, but Jace couldn’t quite make out why he was standing up to Alva and not just helping her. It had always been a part of the plan that if they converged to try to work together.

“His head on a pike in the front of the palace is the only way this ends, Old Man,” she snarled. “For Ingen, for my father and for all of these people. You haven’t been here, listening to their stories, listening to how he ruined their lives.”

“That’s where you are wrong,” O’Neil said, his voice sounding calm, collected but sullen. “I served under him for years, I watched him develop into a monster, I did my best to guide him, as did Kara here, but he was beyond saving.”

“I’m right here you insolent cunts!” the voice that Jace had burned into his mind as Cronus Freeman’s scolded. “I am still the emperor and—

“You’ve made nothing but grave mistakes, son,” a new, female voice came out. Jace was starting to get an itchy trigger finger, but he didn’t see Katrijn or Loren anywhere. That either meant they had run into trouble or they were waiting. Jace fumbled for his holoscanner and went to send a voice message, but opted instead to send a text, not wanting to make any unwanted noise.

Where are you?

He fidgeted with the gun, wanting to just burst in firing, but it wasn’t clear who he should be firing on—if he should indeed be firing on anyone. “I don’t have to take this,” Cronus’s voice rose again. “What I did, even if it felt misguided or…monstrous as you all keep claiming—it was done for the people of the Andlios Republic.”

Jace could feel the rage boiling over inside him, remembering the call he received to inform him of his wife’s passing, the cold indifference they had toward her life or his grief and the quick settlement they reached with him in private. He had paid someone he knew down at the records office to see the official report on her death, it costing him a full month’s salary and the potential to be thrown into a cell, but he didn’t care. The images had broken his heart and sent him into a rage. The bite marks from where the dogs had sunk their teeth into her flesh, the bullet holes from where she was shot, the knife wounds from where she was cut, all horrific in their own way. That wasn’t the work of a troubled leader, it was the mark of a madman.

“You are a monster,” Alva said, calmly.

“You don’t understand what it means to rule! These people, they need me, they need—”

Jace had heard enough, so he kicked in the door and leveled his gun toward the guard holding onto the big guy, pulling the trigger and seeing the shot trace across the room and hit the guard right in between the eyes. It took him off guard how accurate the shot was. The whole room had turned to see what the commotion was long enough for the big guy to grab ahold of his pulseaxe and smash it over the head of the one holding onto Trella.

Alva quickly pulled her blade across the throat of the guard she had in her arms, letting his body fall to the floor and Jace burst into the room with his rifle out. “You don’t understand, you piece of shit!” Tears were clouding up his eyes, and he used his shoulder to wipe them off. “You don’t understand the harm you’ve done to these people, you don’t—”

“Jace, no,” O’Neil staggered toward him, his hand outstretched and looking worse for wear. “Please, son, you don’t understand.”

“He’s not getting away with all of this,” Jace was shaking and he knew it, but did his best to steady his fingers on the trigger. “I don’t care what kind of political games go down here, but he is a monster and he doesn’t deserve to breathe this air.”

“Jace,” Trella’s voice broke through the rage that was engulfing him. “Killing him won’t fix anything for you, it won’t bring Ro back.”

“What do you know?” He looked back at her briefly, seeing her standing with Alva. “You’ve found her, you get to be with her now. But for me? After all of this is done I’m alone again, I’m traveling through the mire of the fringes and dealing with scumbags all over again. He stole my life from me.”

Katrijn

“Look, I know we wanted to do this differently.” Katrijn felt her palms sweating, resting on the hilts of her knives, both her and Loren resting against the door to the audience chamber. “But you hear what I’m hearing. He’s not a killer, Loren. We can’t let him live with this.”

“I know,” he said. “We just don’t know what is in there right now.”

“We need to help him.”

“It doesn’t sound like we have much time, Kat.” Loren gave her a sullen smile. “But this isn’t a good idea.”

“Fine,” she grumbled. “Blame me if this goes wrong.”

“Noted,” he said.

“I hear you,” she said, pulling her knives out and gripping them tightly. Loren held up three fingers, then two, then one and they both pushed their shoulders into the door, the doors bursting open a bit easier than she thought they would and Katrijn almost barreling headfirst into the room, Loren catching her and helping to stabilize her.

“What the?” Cronus’s face turned pale.

“Aye, looks like we’ve got more coming to this party here,” a huge man that Katrijn recognized as one of her father’s old friends, Oystein, chuckled with his pulseaxe in his monstrous grip. In the hands of an average man, it would look large, but it looked almost like a toy in his.

“No,” Cronus was shaking his head. “You were, you are, you—”

“I’m alive, brother.” She surveyed the room, Jace still standing there with his gun pointed at Cronus. There were guards down on the ground, two still vigilant up near Cronus. Trella, Alva, Oystein, her uncle and—she paused—her mother was there. “Mother…”

“Oh, Katrijn,” her mother started to move forward, only for one of the guards to stop her. “I can’t even tell you how happy I am to see you.”

“Me too, Mom.” Her eyes turned back to Jace, who was sweating and not backing down. “Gods…Jace,” she said, slowly approaching him. “I know he’s cost you so much, but you aren’t a killer.”

“I thought I’d be able to stop myself, Kat,” he was fuming, but something was holding him back. “But now I’m here, looking him in the eye and he’s soulless, there’s nothing there, Kat. He deserves to die.”

“No one is doubting that,” she walked forward, sheathing her right knife and holding her hand out toward him. “But you don’t need that blood on your hands, Jace.”

“There’s already blood on my hands,” he said, and the closer she got the more she could see him shaking. “Down the hall a bit, his buddy Giger should be laying there. I split his skull with this stupid ax.”

“You’ve done enough, friend,” Loren spoke behind her. “Let us handle the rest, alright?”

“But, I…” Jace trailed off, tears streaming down his cheeks and his expression starting to crack.

“Don’t let him get the better of you, Jace, he’s just—”

“Just what?” Cronus bellowed. “Go on and do it already! You think this is all easy for me? You think I wake up every morning and feel good about myself? Put me out of my misery already.”

“Don’t you see, Jace?” She wrapped her arm around his shoulders, feeling how tense he was. “I didn’t know how I’d feel when I came face to face with him, either.” She looked up at her brother’s face, for a brief second getting a glimpse of the same pained expression she remembered from when he was just a boy. “He’s just a boy who never grew up playing a game he doesn’t understand.”

“That doesn’t excuse it!”

“I know it doesn’t,” she shook her head. “He has hurt all of us, all in our own way.”

“Then why?” He was starting to calm down, looking back at her. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” she looked him in the eye. “Just let us handle this, okay?”

“Okay…” Jace lowered his gun only for Loren to swoop in and pluck it from his hands with a smile. “I don’t even…”

“It’s alright,” she said, feeling the tension in his shoulders loosen up and his body fight to stay in place. “He’s not worth it, we both know that now. He’s just a sad—”

“I’m just what?” Cronus sprung off of the throne, unsheathing his saber from his hip. Katrijn turned to see her brother, red faced and dashing at her. He slashed wildly at her head, and she pushed Jace out of the way and barely ducked under the wild shot, pulling her other knife free and gripping tightly onto it. “Go on, finish what you had to say, dearest sister.” His right leg danced forward, his hand quickly flicking and the sword arcing toward her left arm. She brought her knife up to barely deflect the shot, feeling the force of the blow pushing her off balance.

“You are just a fool, Cronus.” She regained her footing, throwing a feint with her left knife that brought his sword up to deflect only for her to quickly rotate her right shoulder in, bringing the knife in toward his chest with a slashing motion. Katrijn could have easily connected and left a red gash across his chest, but instead, she pulled back, her shoulder driving into his chest instead, knocking him back onto the velour-carpeted dais.

“You are just a godsdamned fool, Cronus.” She looked down at him, laying on the ground and scrambling for his sword.

“You are beaten, Cronus,” O’Neil let out a sigh. “Don’t be a fool here, son.”

“You are not my father!” he screamed. “You aren’t even my uncle, we just call you that out of pity.” Cronus sprang back to his feet, wildly jabbing the sword toward Katrijn’s midsection, but she crossed the blades of her knives to catch it, redirecting the blade to her side and hearing it clang against the floor, leaving him disarmed.

“Oh, Cronus,” she heard her mother cry out. “Please, stop this now.”

Cronus reached for a smaller blade on his belt only for Katrijn to slash the left knife across his arm and brought the right one up to his throat. “Stop, please,” she found herself pleading. She wasn’t looking into the eyes of the madman who had murdered her father and had haunted her for years, it was just the scared little boy she had gone easy on when they practiced swordplay as children. “I don’t want to do this, brother.”

“You don’t understand,” he gurgled. “It’s over, we’ve lost.”

“I don’t…understand.” She kept her grip tight and the knife at his throat. “Uncle?”

“Katrijn,” he nodded solemnly. “Your brother has made a grave error, I’m not sure that—”

“The gate has been activated,” Trallex’s voice echoed throughout the chamber, causing everyone to freeze. Katrijn felt her blood run cold.

“Dear gods,” O’Neil muttered.

“What?” She loosened her grip on the knife, pushing Cronus back, him falling back into the throne, grasping at the large gash on his arm. “What’s happening?”

“No, it can’t be.” Her mother stood up, approaching the Cydonian. “Has anything come through yet?”

“One ship has thus far,” Trallex stated. “It looks like a flagship.”

“Fuck,” O’Neil let out.

“What?” Katrijn felt so helpless seeing her uncle, mother and Trallex so concerned while Cronus sat in defeat, giving up so easily. None of this had gone as planned, that much was for certain.

“It’s a flagship, that means that more are soon to follow.” He turned to Cronus. “How many ships have your men built?”

“I don’t know what you are—”

“How many ships? I don’t have time for your bullshit, Cronus!” O’Neil snapped at Cronus, who cowered.

“The fleet should be about 4,000 or so…”

“That’s it? You’ve built 4,000 ships and you knew that you crossed them,” he rubbed his temples. “Dear gods.”

“Someone tell me what is going on here.” Katrijn was beginning to feel upset, overlooked.

“Your brother made a deal with the Earth Ministry, handing the Gimle system over to them to strip-mine in exchange for leaving us alone.”

“Wait, are you telling me we’ve been dealing with the Earth Ministry this entire time in secret?” She felt outraged.

“Yes,” O’Neil sunk down into Kara’s throne, grasping at his side, his skin pallid.

“That is a royal thr…” Cronus started, only for O’Neil to pull a gun from his belt and point it at his head.

“Not now, junior.” He didn’t look, but the look on Cronus’s face was one of indignation, but showed no sign of retaliation. “Your father knew they’d come back for us, that they wouldn’t just let us go this easily. Even if they had so many new technologies, they were still hungry for resources,” he grunted in pain. “If they couldn’t displace the population to this system they needed some of its resources. There was a delicate balance in place and your father and then I kept things in line. But this,” he shook the gun at Cronus, “this genius wanted to be done with them forever.”

“I was only doing what I felt was right!” Cronus gnashed his teeth. “If I was to truly be the emperor why should I be paying someone just to leave us alone?”

“You fool,” Katrijn muttered in disbelief. “You petty fool.”

“While I’m not one to ever really give Cronus the benefit of the doubt,” O’Neil looked tired, “he did have our best interests at heart. I would have never advised for it, but he knew that. It was his errand boy Giger who came up with the plan to try to build a fleet to drive them out.”

“It worked!” Cronus exclaimed. “How can no one see that?”

“It worked for the time,” Katrijn’s mother spoke up. “Like Peter said, it wasn’t the worst plan. If Giger hadn’t pushed for his own foolish plan, everything might have worked out. Instead, he led an attack on them in hopes of sending them away.”

“But they are back,” Jace’s voice came from the side, and Katrijn turned to see him fully composed again, if not a bit shaken. “So now what?”

“We have 4,000 ships to what is probably tens of thousands of Earth Ministry ships that could come through that gate they built, so our defenses are lacking at best,” O’Neil’s hand was shaky while pointing the gun at Cronus, but he finally lowered it with a grimace. “You girls can work out who gets and who rules what later, but for now we need Cronus, even if it is just to hand him over to the Earthers in hopes that they back off for a while.”

Cronus sat silently, gripping his arm and staring down at his ornate boots.

“You were going to do that?” Alva stepped forward. “You, the monster of Krigar were going to give yourself up?”

“I never meant…” Tears were welling up in his eyes, and he kept staring down at his boots and not making eye contact. “Things got so out of control and I…I just, I don’t know. I just…”

“He’s a blubbering baby!” Oystein shouted. “Dear Odin, this is not our monster, this is our jester!”

“Regardless,” O’Neil holstered his gun and stood up slowly, favoring his midsection and struggling for breath. “I hope you see now why we need him alive. Trallex,” he turned toward the Cydonian, who was sifting through data. “Any idea who is in command of that ship?”

“Captain Peter O’Neil,” a familiar, snide voice echoed through the room, and everyone’s eyes turned toward the set of broken doors to see a thin, composed man standing stiffly in an Earth Ministry uniform. The uniform bore the mark of a high admiral, the man wearing a wry smile underneath the thin mustache.

“My gods,” O’Neil looked even paler. “Admiral Navarro?”

“That’s High Admiral Navarro,” he corrected him.

041. The Scourge of the Fourth Fleet

O’Neil

I forgot you can just beam yourself down here whenever you please.” O’Neil looked down from the dais to Navarro, not looking much older than when they had last met. He did his best to look composed, but he knew he was struggling to keep his blood circulating and the air pumping through his chest. Navarro was in charge of the Fourth Fleet—technically his superior when they arrived on Andlios and the man he had betrayed to help Freeman found the Andlios Republic.

“It’s not as simple as that, but I know you were never one for that particular technology,” Navarro’s voice felt like needles jabbing into his ears.

“No, never was,” he agreed. “I’m surprised to see you in such fine shape after all these cycles.”

“Yes, quite.” Navarro gripped his hands tightly behind his back. “Well, it turns out that our Cydonian friends have quite a fascinating outlook on technology and humanity’s future. My arm here was in quite a disarray after our…last meeting.” He held his right arm out for inspection before clasping his hands back behind his back. Jonah had done some serious damage to that arm during their final showdown, and he’d be proud to know just how deeply he had wounded Navarro if he were still alive. “You yourself are looking a bit worse for wear, I might add.”

“Cydonians?” Trallex turned toward the High Admiral. “No Cydonian has defected to the best of our knowledge.”

“No,” he smirked. “Of course not. I’ve gathered that your people have a name for this particular group—the uh, Banished, I gather?”

“You were all the damned Banished!” Oystein roared, Alva quickly elbowing him in the ribs to quiet him down.

“Oh, my.” Navarro walked the length of the room, his heels clicking against the marble floor while he looked the brute up and down. “These Krigans have never failed to impress me with their vigor. We were not your Banished as you believed, my dear man, it turns out that the Cydonians who departed this planet some years back had come to Earth and found it to be quite underdeveloped and decided instead of interfering much to instead head to a neighboring system. One of our Destiny ships discovered them and we were able to bond over our disdain for this damned planet and its inhabitants.”

“We did not condone their behavior,” Trallex said. “Nor do they represent Cydonians as a whole. Eliminating all life on Andlios other than our own does not benefit our vision of the future—”

“They were bloody murderers!” Oystein snarled, Alva again trying to rein him in. “No, hear me out, if these assholes are working with them then we need to end them now!” The mighty man had his pulseaxe in his hands, and Navarro’s eyes widened at the sight of the weapon.

“Stand down.” O’Neil climbed down from the throne platform, standing in between the two men. “Killing him will only bring hell to the Andlios Republic. We need to make things right, not worse.”

“Always the sensible one, weren’t you, O’Neil?” Navarro’s tone was bordering on playful, but O’Neil knew better than to be lulled into a sense of security. “Freeman really was the wildcard in this equation and now his son has paid us quite an insult.”

“I did what was best for—” Cronus broke in, only to quickly be shut down.

“Cronus,” O’Neil turned as quickly as his broken down body would let him and grumbled. “Let me handle this.”

“Ah, yes,” Navarro chuckled, turning on his heel to look up at Cronus on the throne, hand still on his arm. “Where would Andlios be without a Freeman on O’Neil’s leash? Some things never change.”

“I am on no one’s leash!” Cronus stood up, grimacing in pain, but doing his best to compose himself.

“Cronus…” O’Neil accosted him.

“No,” he said. “I am the emperor and it was my decision to send you and your pithy fleet packing before! You do not belong here and I will order that ship of yours shot down.”

“My, this one is dim, isn’t he?” Navarro turned his back to them, sounding disappointed.

“Why you—” Cronus went to charge at him only for Kara to grab ahold of his injured arm, which caused him to cry out and she guided him to sit back down.

“Truly marvelous,” Navarro let out a laugh that echoed throughout the room. “What a Republic you have built here, O’Neil.”

“It’s not just mine,” O’Neil said, knowing that he needed to tread carefully. “Everyone in this room has some stake in the Andlios Republic and you and I both know that Earth needs resources that we have out here. The logistics don’t work out, High Admiral, you know that’s true. You can’t bring everyone here and you can’t bring your entire armada here to strongarm these people. There has been a lot of work that has gone into this Republic and the people won’t just let it slip away from them.”

“Truly,” Navarrao turned to O’Neil and smirked. “It is impressive what has happened here in the years since we last met, but you haven’t seen what we’ve done back home. You’ve never even been back home, have you?” O’Neil shook his head while Navarro laughed. “Oh my friend, you’ll quite enjoy it there, although I’m not sure how much of it you’ll see while standing trial as a traitor…”

“You can’t!” Katrijn surged forward, Jace and Loren struggling to hold her back.

“It’s okay,” O’Neil held his hand out toward her, trying to calm her down. “This is what I expected.”

“Of course it is, you cannot simply betray your people and fail in your mission, be involved in the death of Earth Ministry forces and just live out your life here in your idyllic little wonderland while you fight your little battles amongst each other. You thought that you had something special here, didn’t you?” Navarro strode past them and stood in front of the projections that lined the front of the room, showing images of the violence outside. “But look at this, O’Neil. Look at what you built here, it is no different. You and Freeman failed, we’ve won. Right now the Fourth Fleet is coming through that gate by Gimle right now, they are heading here and boots will be on the ground in a matter of moments. There won’t be a battle this time, there won’t be a heroic speech and backroom deals. The Earth Ministry has come to claim what is rightfully ours.”

“This is my fault,” Cronus grumbled, a defeated man. O’Neil looked at him and he looked almost half a meter smaller than he had before when he had raised his sword to his sister.

“Don’t be so full of yourself, boy,” Navarro said, a sadistic smile lining his face. “This was all in motion long before you thought yourself a king. We’ll need you, though. So—”

“I didn’t fight for this, I didn’t go through this for nothing!” Alva’s brute friend Oystein raised his voice. “I didn’t go through all of this for the Banished to get the upper hand of us after all of these cycles!”

“Oystein…” Alva’s voice was trying to be soothing. “Please, don’t…”

“No, Princess Alva,” he stepped forward, brandishing his pulseaxe. “I won’t sit back and let this subhuman go through with this.”

“You?” Navarro turned from the screens to look back at Oystein, looking amused. “What are you going to attack me with your ax there? Go right ahead.” He motioned with his hand in a sweeping motion for Oystein to step forward to him. “But I don’t want your friends interfering, of course.” He snapped his fingers and Earth Ministry forces flooded in from the doors on either side of the room, previously unheard and unseen. He had been waiting for them to be transported, which O’Neil posited was the reason for the monologue.

“I’ll be more than pleased,” Oystein charged forward, ax held over his shoulder, swinging it toward the neck of Navarro only for Navarro to reach up with his right hand and for the ax to freeze in place, Oystein still moving forward but finding himself unable to budge his ax.

“You see,” Navarro paced in front of the grunting Oystein, “this is what you appear like to us—fools who resisted change.”

“But how!” Oystein barked, struggling to move but finding himself stuck.

“Your Banished have quite the secrets to share with us, in case you didn’t suspect.” He let out a sigh while his hand slipped to his sidearm, pulling the gun from the holster and raising it toward the frozen-in-place Oystein. “But, much like flies, you will all fall eventually while we let out a collective sigh.”

“No!” Alva charged forward, seeing Navarro’s gun pointed at Oystein. It was all a blur to O’Neil, but he saw Alva get pushed to the floor, Trella standing over her, in between Oystein and Navarro when the blast rang out. She fell over in a heap on top of Alva.

“Truly awe-inspiring,” Navarro laughed while his guards moved in. Alva looked pale, but O’Neil could see the anger rising up inside of her.

“That’s enough!” O’Neil shouted. “You came for Cronus and me, so you have us!” He glanced over at Alva and saw her holding onto the trembling Trella, her encounter suit trying to mend itself and tend to the wound in her midsection. He turned to Jace and whispered. “You get them out of here, I don’t care what you have to do.”

“Got it,” Jace started to pull away, only for O’Neil to tug on his shirt.

“Take Katrijn with you as well.”

“What?” He looked back at O’Neil in disbelief. “She won’t go, she just…”

“Tell her it’s an order. Loren will know what to do.”

“You…fucking…monster!” Alva’s voice rose, and O’Neil felt the energy emanating from where she sat with Trella in her arms. “This is my world!” her voice boomed, holding her hand out and Oystein’s pulseaxe jumping into her hand. She stood up, holding both his and her own pulseaxe, one giant ax in each hand. Navarro nodded and the soldiers started to close in on her. “No!” she boomed, sweeping both arms out and both lines of soldiers flew back off their feet.

“What the fuck?” O’Neil heard Jace exclaim over the sound of groans and screams in the room, Jace staring in disbelief before he noticed O’Neil glaring at him.

“Go,” O’Neil mouthed to him. He may have spoken it out loud but there was no chance of anyone, including himself, hearing it over the chaos.

“Oh, this is rich,” Navarro was laughing like a maniac while Alva was stalking closer to him. “Let’s see what the bitch has!”

“Alva!” Trella’s voice came out. “No, don’t!”

“What?” She turned to see Trella in Oystein’s arms. “But he…”

“You came for me,” O’Neil stepped forward while Alva quickly ran to Trella’s aid. He could see Trallex behind the throne dais, motioning for them to come to him. There was a trap door back there that only a few knew about and either Trallex had been told about it or he was able to pull off some Cydonian trick, but it didn’t matter, they’d get free. He had Navarro’s attention now, though.

“So I did,” Navarro ran his finger of his mustache. “So many distractions down here, it’s no wonder this Republic didn’t plunge into chaos sooner. I’ll deal with these mongrels soon enough, but I digress, what about the great Captain Peter O’Neil? As you can see,” he motioned to the projections behind him and to the soldiers all around them. “Boots are indeed on the ground now and I’m afraid I’ve had a change of heart.”

“Oh?” O’Neil asked, raising his eyebrow, standing toe-to-toe with Navarro.

“Quite.” He turned his back to O’Neil, only to spin around, gun in hand, pointing it at O’Neil’s head. “I don’t need you after all.”

Kara

The bang rang out and a fissure erupted in both time and space. Kara stood next to Cronus, who was still tending to his own wounds and watched as Alva and Oystein helped Trella back into the access tunnel. Katrijn and Jace had left just moments before, but now all she could hear was the deafening bang and watch as Peter’s body fell slowly to the ground, his arms thrown back and a small trail of blood hanging in the air.

“Peter!” she cried out, the full gravity of time returning to the room in a rush and then his body was on the floor, Navarro standing over him wearing a grin, his gun in hand. “My gods, Peter!” Kara rushed from the dais to his side, quickly fumbling around for a pulse on his arm only to feel none, but then she remembered that there were so many augmentations inside him that she might not have been able to tell anyway.

“Why would you do that? What is wrong with you?” Tears were streaming down her cheeks. “Dear Freyja…”

“There is nothing wrong with me, there was never going to be a trial anyway and really, the public’s fascination with him has waned quite a bit, but…” Navarro stepped over O’Neil’s unmoving body in a nonchalant manner, approaching the dais with the soldiers all around the room. “Your son here, he is all I need.”

“You don’t touch him!” she cried out. “You do not get to—”

“Oh, calm down,” he looked back, shaking his head. “So emotional, get control over yourself. This is Cronus Freeman and he has a debt to pay for his betrayal. We’ll need him yet. I must say, though,” he scanned around the room. “We are missing a few faces here, aren’t we? Verhoeven, Santa Maria,” he barked, two of the soldiers stepping forward and standing in rigid attention. “Send out teams to find the rest and bring them to me.”

“Yes sir,” they said in unison, the rest of the soldiers parting to let them through the door.

Kara cradled Peter in her arms. What would she tell Jack and Hideo? Would anyone other than her miss Peter O’Neil? He operated in the shadows, kept everyone safe and made the difficult decisions that left him labeled as a monster throughout his tenure working with the family, all while Jonah had been the public face of good and Cronus burnt all of that to the ground. His cold face was looking up at her, his eyes open in shock under his glasses, the glasses he had stubbornly kept even though much of his body was filled with Cydonian moving parts.

She reached down and removed his glasses carefully, running her fingers over his eyelids to close them, feeling his rapidly-cooling flesh on her hand. Absently she reached up with her wrist and wiped away the tears, realizing that she was surrounded by Earth Ministry forces and that both she and her son were in great danger still. Peter would have urged her to go on, to do whatever she could to keep the peace while a counter-attack could be planned.

“What do you need us to do?” she asked, sniffling back the tears.

“What?” Navarro turned toward her. “The empress regent speaks! I need nothing from you, just from your son here.”

“You are a fool if you think he ran the Republic on his own; it was myself, Peter and a number of others who did most of the work before he sent us away. I don’t see you ruling over this Republic yourself, so if you need Cronus, you are going to have to tell us what you want from us. We can keep the peace.”

“The peace?” He let out a laugh. “Did you not see what brought us all to this thrilling conclusion today? Riots! Not only in your streets, but in your own palace, against your own people. You are right, I have no desire to run some Republic, but soon this will all be swallowed up and brought into the fold of the Earth Ministry. In due time, my dear, in due time.”

“You’ll need us for the transition,” she said, standing up and doing her best to remain regal in the face of distress. “There is dissension, I’ll admit, but if the people see I am working with Cronus they will be at least partially at ease. We were prepared for today—well, mostly. We didn’t expect any sort of attack being launched on the palace outside of by yourself and your troops, but we were prepared for your inevitable arrival.”

“So you were aware there was a gate built on your doorstep then? My, oh my, have I underestimated you.”

“Not exactly, no,” she said. “But we knew you’d be back. My son here made a number of grave mistakes—not honoring his agreement with the Earth Ministry may have been his worst.”

“Quite the mistake.” Navarro stood in front of Cronus, shaking his head. He snapped his fingers and motioned for a soldier. “Pick him up, clean him up; he needs to look presentable, like an emperor, not like some sniveling bastard who was just bested and beaten down.”

“I am the proud emperor of the—”

“Cronus,” she looked to him. “Listen to them, we are in no position to negotiate right now.”

“But I will not bow down to any—”

“You will or they’ll kill you just as easily as they did your uncle.” She wiped back a tear. “I don’t want to lose anyone else today if I don’t have to—now go with them.”

“Fine.” He tugged at his jacket, trying to wrestle free from the grasp of the soldier, a few more joining to lead him out of the room.

“I may have underestimated you,” Navarro said, sitting back into Cronus’s throne, crossing his left leg over his knee. “In fact, I didn’t account for you at all.”

“We all make mistakes,” she said, folding her hands in front of her dress, trying not to let him see her hands trembling.

“I may have.” He stroked his chin with his gloved right hand. “I may have not, that remains to be seen, I guess. So where did everyone else go, Empress Regent?”

“I’m not sure, High Admiral,” she said. “I was focused on all the problems you were creating.”

“See, there is the problem. I didn’t create these problems, oh no. I’m the cleaner here, the fixer. I’m here with a fleet of warships to fix this small indiscretion. You were aboard the Omega Destiny, were you not?” She nodded in reply, which made him smile. “So you knew what the mission was and how vital it was for the survival of humanity.”

“Yes, although there were no assurances of these technological advances.”

“Of course it wasn’t an exact science. This Andlios was to be a colony of Earth, you see, not its own intergalactic superpower.”

“Then I’m curious, what were we supposed to do if there were no HyperMass drives?”

“That’s not relevant,” he shook his head.

“What about for finding humanity on this very planet? What was the plan for that?”

“There was a plan, of sorts. You see, there are still doubts as to where humanity actually originated. Most of science and history points to Earth, but as I’m sure you’ve heard, there is that whole missing link nonsense and a few minor grey areas. We’ve been able to fill in the gaps, but there was a period of rapid acceleration that could have simply been environmental or, well—ah, this is probably boring you.”

“Not at all,” she said, noting how he was amusing himself. “Please continue, I’ve always been curious.”

“So there are some who believe that Andlios here is possibly the home for humanity. It is a bit far-fetched to believe that humanity in nearly identical forms blossomed and evolved on two planets at the same time without some intermingling.”

“That’s the argument, yes.”

“Naturally, a part of why Andlios is so valuable to us is to find these answers, Empress Regent. While I’m sure there have been resources dedicated to this here already, we would be a lot more comfortable having control over it. Then, of course, there is the matter of resources that brought us to where we are today.”

“You can travel faster than ever before; you don’t need us for resources any more.”

“True, although, there is already a mass of humanity here,” he explained. “There are already systems in place to harvest these resources and even transports. We will build more gates—some will serve as shipping lanes and humanity will be together once again, if not for the first time ever. These are exciting times and you get to be a part of that.”

“This feels like that part where the villain explains his evil plan because he believes he’s already won, I must say, High Admiral.”

“I have already won, don’t you see that? We gave Andlios its independence for how many years? Your son’s foolish attempt to outmaneuver us was the final straw and the order came down that we were to retake Andlios at any cost. I understand your son has been building a fleet, which is cute, but the Fourth Fleet alone could handle them. Plus, with the gate in place, we can have reinforcements in a matter of hours. The dream is over, it’s dead, as dead as O’Neil over there.” He motioned toward Peter’s body, and Kara felt a pit growing in her stomach, refusing to turn to see his lifeless body again, even if the image was burned into her mind.

“I see,” she said, staring down at her hands.

“You don’t, but you will soon enough.” Navarro hopped off the throne, straightening out his uniform. “Now come, it is time.”

“Time?”

“To face your Republic and concede to surrender publicly.”

“Oh, right, that time,” she said, feeling utterly defeated.

“Oh come now, it is clear that you have no options here. It is surrender and live or be defiant and have the Fourth Fleet carpet bomb this city into extinction. We are comfortable either way, as was your late husband. It’s all cyclical, my dear. Everything comes back around in the end.”

It felt like another punch in the gut and it ended their conversation, and a pair of soldiers came in and escorted her out of the room and through the palace. Bodies and blood stained the once-pristine walls, elite guards sprawling out lifeless in the halls while Earth Ministry forces idled, glaring at her as she walked past with her captors. There was an eerie quiet filling the palace, more so than usual while she met up with Cronus, wearing the same blood-stained jacket, his right arm with a bandage wrapped around it.

That was what they meant by clean him up, she gathered. They wanted him to look weak, injured and as if he had been defeated. She almost laughed out loud, considering that it would be perhaps the only time in Cronus’s reign that he ever appeared as a sympathetic figure to the people of the Republic. It took many cycles for him to finally appear as a human being who cared about his people and of course, it came at the end. She knew exactly where they were and what was being planned; they were by the balcony that hung over the front of the palace. Cronus would be giving a speech, even if it went against the very fabric of his being.

Navarro strode up behind them and motioned for them to step out onto the balcony, Kara taking her place at the left of her son and gently pushing for him to walk out first. He stepped out onto the balcony, overlooking what was a sea of humanity beneath them. Cronus had his head held high but she saw the look on his face while he scanned the crowd and it struck him what was happening and that he had failed. Kara stood next to him, trying to remain composed while her son held his hand up and a silence hushed over the crowd. There was no need for silence, considering there were devices to capture the entire event with audio and video, but it was the closest thing he had to control.

“People of Andlios,” he said, his voice slightly cracking. Cronus cleared his throat, holding his hand over his mouth but forgetting his injury. He cursed under his breath. “I stand here as your emperor on this day as a humbled man. This was a day we all knew would come from the day my father founded the Andlios Republic and drove away Earth Ministry forces; they have returned and we simply find ourselves outmatched. We are told that the transition should be a smooth one and you will not be harmed. I, Emperor Cronus Freeman concede control of the Andlios Republic to the Fourth Fleet of the Earth Ministry. I’m sorry.”

The crowd remained relatively silent, the murmurings hardly audible from so high up above them, but it was clear that there were discussions going on down there. Kara watched as her son skulked back in from the balcony and wondered how much of that was fed to him and how much of it came from him. He’d kept the public appearances to a minimum and opted instead to let others speak for him. In a way, she was shocked that there wasn’t an attempt on his life just now, but the day was full of surprises.

“Welcome back to the Earth Ministry.” Navarro stood before Kara, and she felt the pit in her stomach only growing. They had failed—more importantly, she had failed. She had let Jonah down.

042. Escape

Jace

Are you fucking kidding me?” Jace shouted while they stumbled their way through the dark tunnels underneath the palace.

“Are you talking about these tunnels or what?” Loren asked, trying to keep his cool, but he was clearly distracted.

“Fucking everything!” Jace couldn’t even begin to comprehend what was happening all around them. “The Earth Ministry? The Fourth Fleet? The fuck!”

“Jace,” Katrijn said, trying to sound calm, but it was just grating to Jace, who was still partially in shock.

“Now we are walking through secret fucking tunnels underneath the palace, I mean, fuck!”

“Jace,” she said again.

“What?”

“We need to get out of here. Is the Pequod fueled up and ready to go?”

“Yeah,” he said, trying not to trip over himself while staring at Loren, who was hunched over in front of him, leading the way. The tunnels were narrow and dark, but Loren refused to turn any of the lights on, claiming they had to be as quiet and hidden as possible. “I guess so, but we’ll never get off the planet. This isn’t Cyngen.”

“No, it’s not,” Loren said ahead of them. “But my access codes still work; I’m still plugged in. I can get us the access, but you’ll have to get us past that fleet out there.”

“What happened to Cronus’s fleet he was building?” Jace was starting to feel anxious. “I can’t fight off an entire fleet, that would be a mighty fine distraction, I’d say.”

“I gave the order to launch twenty minutes ago, but it’ll take some time.”

“You gave the order?” Jace tugged on Loren’s belt with his good hand, stopping the man in his tracks. “You?”

“Yes, now please let go of me before I break your goddamn hand.”

“Boys,” Katrijn said from behind Jace. “We need to get out of here, not bicker.”

“Since when is Loren giving orders to an entire fleet of warships?”

“Since…” He paused, shaking his head. “Just, I did, alright?”

“I don’t care if it was Odin himself,” Katrijn said, smacking her palm against Jace’s side, and he yelped. “We need to go.”

“Gods.” Jace felt the sting in his side from where Giger had slashed him. “Be careful—I’m injured, you know.”

“Just keep moving.”

“If you two are done,” Loren said, reaching one of the intersections that littered the tunnels. “We’ve gotta go right to get to the hangar.”

“Alright, sorry,” Jace said, feeling both of their eyes on them. “Why didn’t we stick with Alva, Oystein and Trella, anyway?”

“She needed medical help.” Loren led them down the hallway. “I don’t know about you, but I have no clue how to repair some of her systems. I can just patch together whiny would-be heroes like you, Krios.”

“But us splitting up doesn’t seem like—”

“Jace, look,” Loren turned to him, stopping their forward motion. Jace almost ran into him but caught himself. “This is the plan. If you don’t like it, that’s tough. This is what the Old Man wanted.”

“Well, where is he? We are gonna need him for this,” Katrijn said, Jace feeling a lump in his throat and a sense of foreboding.

“He, well…” There was an awkward pause only for Loren to start moving again. “C’mon, the entrance to the hangar should only be another twenty or so meters ahead.”

Jace was starting to read between the lines as to why Loren felt so tense, but he wasn’t sure if Katrijn was or not. Chances were that they had left everyone up in that audience chamber to die, which included Katrijn’s mother, brother and uncle. They wanted Katrijn off the planet and out of their reach, although there didn’t seem to be anywhere they could really run to, especially with that gate opened up and hostile ships pouring in from it.

“Be ready,” Loren was reaching up overhead at a small hatch. “We’re gonna have to really blast out of here.”

“Just make sure we are clear to take off,” Jace said.

Loren popped the hatch, letting the rope ladder that was tied up next to the hatch unravel before climbing up it and disappearing from the dark tunnel. “Alright,” he whispered down to them. “We’ve got a few guards here, but nothing extreme. You two get up here and make a break for it and I’ll cover you.”

“Loren,” Katrijn said. “This is not the time or place for heroics; we need to get out of here now.”

“I’ll be right behind you,” he said while Jace pulled himself up and slid behind a crate, looking out at the Pequod. Loren reached down and grabbed Katrijn by the wrist and tugged her up while Jace peered over the crate and swore under his breath.

“That’s not a few,” he said, trying to keep his voice down. “That’s a lot.”

“I guess we have to disagree, then.” Loren smiled at him while Katrijn looked out at the horde of guards.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m with Jace on this, Loren. That isn’t just a few. There is no way we are getting out of here without a huge firefight.”

“I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve,” he assured them. “You two just get ready to dash after the signal, I’ll be right behind you.”

“What’s the signal?” Katrijn asked.

“Just gimme a few.” He fumbled with his holoscanner, taking a deep breath and giving a nod before a loud alarm roared over the docking bay, causing the guards to look around, covering their ears. “Now go!”

Jace tugged on Katrijn’s sleeve while grasping at his side trying to pull her out from behind the crate. Loren hunkered down behind cover with his gun out, looking focused. The Pequod’s bay door sat 20 meters away from them, and Jace tapped on his holoscanner dangling from his belt to open the door and tugged again on Katrijn. “C’mon, let’s go!”

Jace finally pulled her out from behind the crate and pushed her in front of him; she stumbled into a run toward the door, keeping her head down while shots started to ring out. Loren was blasting away, trying to bring the attention away from them but Jace could feel the heat of the shots whizzing by them. “We can’t leave him,” she said when they reached the door. “We can’t.”

“He’s coming!” Jace shouted over the sounds of gunfire. “Loren, c’mon!” he called into his holoscanner, only for Loren to keep firing.

“I’m not leaving without him,” she said.

“He said he’s coming—has he ever not?” He pulled himself into the ship, but not fully. “I gotta get this fired up; your uncle said my main priority was getting you off this rock, and I intend to do that.”

“I’m going back for him,” she said, and Jace understood that he wouldn’t be able to convince her not to.

“Fine,” he said, reaching over toward the blaster he kept by the door, unhooking it and holding it out toward her. “But you cover yourself.”

She snatched it from his grasp and ran, firing blindly while she charged out, back toward the cover. It took everything in his power to not rush out there himself, but he charged up toward the cockpit and reminded himself that he had to somehow outrun the entirety of an Earth Ministry fleet, which was going to be no small task. Jace dashed through the cargo bay and up the stairs, bounding two steps at a time and slid into the captain’s chair, firing up the engines.

The ground locks were off, which was a good thing—Loren had done that much. Jace knew the planetary defenses might have fallen to the Earth Ministry forces, but he had to just hope they hadn’t. “Katrijn, we gotta get out of here,” he shouted over the comm. “We gotta go now, get Loren and let’s get outta here.”

“We’ve got a problem,” her voice crackled over the ship’s comm.

Katrijn

“C’mon, Loren, stay with me.” She stood over Loren, who was slumped over behind the crate, blaster in his left hand while his other arm was a bloody mess. There was blood everywhere and Katrijn could feel herself start to panic. “Stay with me, Loren!” She tore at the sleeve of her shirt, having to pull out a blade to slice it and get the tear started.

“Ah, shit,” Loren coughed, trying to pick himself up but failing.

“No, stay down, I need to patch you up.”

“You are a godsdamned fool, you know that?” He pushed out a pained chuckle. “If you don’t get offa here then this is all for nothing, Katrijn. Leave me behind, I’ll be fine.”

“Not with those wounds, you won’t.” She got to work fastening a sling for his arm, tightening it while shots fired off all around them.

“You are just as dumb as the Old Man,” he groaned while she took his good arm over her shoulder.

“Can you pull a trigger with that bum arm?” she asked.

“Probably.”

“Good.” She handed him a blaster, keeping one for herself. “Jace,” she called into the comm.

“What? Where the hell are you two?”

“Coming, but we are going to need a distraction; Loren is pretty banged up.”

“I don’t have any guns on here, you know that,” he said, sounding panicked.

“You are a clever guy,” she said, starting to walk out with all of Loren’s weight on her shoulders. “You got us off of Cyngen, just think of something fast!”

“I’ll try,” he said.

She shuffled out with Loren doing his best to support himself while the room was starting to flood with soldiers. Some were behind cover while others were rushing toward them, firing wildly. The shots were all going wide, thankfully, but both Loren and Katrijn had begun to fire back, Katrijn feeling less than accurate thanks to Loren’s weight. “C’mon Jace, we need something! We aren’t going to last long here!”

“I think I’ve got it!” he crackled over the comm. “Don’t get too close.”

“That isn’t a part of our problem right now,” she yelled.

“Get down now!” he shouted, Katrijn slumping over with Loren on top of her.

It was sudden—a blast of heat and a large bang thundered throughout the whole docking bay, flames emerging from the rear engines on the Pequod and the soldiers scrambling for their lives. Some had caught fire and were running around wildly, their cries filling the air, piercing through the buzzing in her ears. They were just a few meters away, Katrijn pushing herself up and not worrying about the blaster, dragging Loren along with her, him only able to help a little, pushing with his legs.

With one final push, she found herself at the door, pulling Loren in by the shoulders and sitting him up against the wall, collapsing herself to the side of the wall, stretching up and slapping the door controls, hearing the alarm through the buzzing in her ears before she clicked the comm on. “We are on! Get us out of here!”

“Are you strapped in?”

“Just go!”

“Hold on to something, then!”

The ship banked sharply, and Katrijn reached out for a handhold to grab onto while trying to place her weight onto Loren so that his body wouldn’t shift around too violently. The ship was accelerating rapidly and there were occasional rumbles—most likely shots from the ground troops. “Get us safe,” she yelled into the comm. “Then give me a few minutes to get Loren into the med bay.”

“Copy,” Jace said, the ship shaking a few more times before it evened out. “I can keep cruising altitude for a few minutes here—get him safe and then get up here.”

“Alright, Loren.” She reached down to him. “We gotta get you secured now. Were you able to find out if the planetary defenses were under their control?”

“They weren’t as of five minutes ago,” he said, gasping for air. “But I don’t know.”

“This might not be much of a ride, then.” She pulled him up, slinging his arm over her shoulder. “But I still want to get you to the med bay.”

“Roger that,” he said.

She dragged him down the corridor—him shuffling his feet slowly along the way, and her using the railing to stay upright under the pressure of his weight. She slapped the door controls for the med bay and dragged him inside, laying him onto the table and securing the buckles one by one before pulling up the menu and choosing a few painkillers to pump into him.

“Before I pump you into oblivion here,” she hovered her finger over the confirm button. “What will happen to my uncle, you think?”

“Oh, Kat,” he said, smiling. “You always were an optimist, weren’t you? I’m sorry, darling,” he groaned. “I don’t think he made it.”

“Yeah.” She tried to keep a straight face but felt her heart writhing in her chest. “That’s what I thought.” She pressed the button and saw the vials filling up with fluid before the needle slowly traveled down and pricked his arm. “I’ll come and wake you once we are safe, alright? Don’t you die on me as well.”

“I’m doing my best,” he said while fading out of consciousness.

“Good.” She patted him on the shoulder and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her before running up the stairs and into the cockpit. Jace was sitting there, looking tired and frazzled, but otherwise holding it together. “He said the planetary defenses shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Well, that’s one thing, then,” he said, not turning back to her. “But that fleet of warships out there is another thing.”

She sat down in the co-pilot’s chair, securing her seatbelt and looking at the readouts. “My gods,” she said, shaking her head. “That’s a lot of ships. What happened to our fleet?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe some of them are the ships that Loren gave the launch order to, but I just can’t tell. I don’t have their frequencies programmed or anything.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.” He looked up at her and forced a smile. “Never said this was going to be easy, the whole hero thing, I guess. Is Loren alright?”

“For now,” she said. “He lost a lot of blood. I have the med bay pumping him full of fluids and painkillers right now, and should be giving him some blood as well, but I’m not sure of the severity of any of it; I didn’t have time to run a full check.”

“That’ll have to do,” he said, fiddling with the controls. “Alright, I’m taking us up.”

“Do you have a plan?”

“No,” he looked over at her. “Do you?”

“I guess we could go to Andal-3,” she said. “Jack and Hideo are there, if not, then back to Cyngen.”

“He’ll need medical assistance before we get to Cyngen, plus we don’t know how many ships are out there or how far they’ve reached. We are fugitives right now, remember that.”

“I guess we’ll have to play it by ear,” she said, feeling a pit in her stomach.

He gave her a nod and in a flash the ship accelerated toward breaking the atmosphere. It was by far the worst part of space flight, especially considering what they were heading into. There were a few tense moments as it felt like she was being pulled to the chair by the weight of the world before that moment of release came when they breached and were in open space.

“Dear gods,” Jace muttered at the scene.

“What the…” She was speechless; they were surrounded by hulking warships, all firing at each other in two distinct lines, although it was nearly impossible to tell who was on whose side. “Who is friendly?”

“I don’t know and I’m not about to broadcast our presence to the two fleets of goliaths trying to blow each other up, either,” he said, weaving in between the giant ships looking for a way out. “Cyngen is out of the picture, they have a blockade up,” he muttered.

“What about Andal?” she asked, in awe of the battlefield.

“I’m looking but it looks cornered. This isn’t just one fleet—this is a bunch of fleets.”

“Damnit,” she said. “Is there anything open?”

“Hold on.” He kept studying the map. “Yeah, I can break through right there.” He pointed at a point on the projected map.

“That’s by the Gimle sector,” she said. “That’s where the damned gate is.”

“That’s our only hope!”

“There’s no atmosphere on Gimle and from the sound of it, there is nothing from the Republic there!”

“It’s that or get blown into space dust,” he said. “I’m gunning it.”

“Gods, you are dense!” She couldn’t believe him.

“There are two escape pods, you know that, if you want to try your hand at being a prisoner of the Earth Ministry, go right ahead, but I’m taking you to where no one will think to look for you.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, wondering if she said it aloud.

“The Old Man told me to keep you safe and I intend on keeping that promise.”

The ship continued to weave around the warships, dodging fire and collisions every few seconds. For once, Jace looked competent behind the wheel and she realized that he had maybe never given himself enough credit. All she could do was watch as giant hunks of metal came into view and disappeared, no longer able to recognize what was up or down anymore or where they were headed. He punched in the coordinates for Gimle and started up the sequence for the HyperMass drive. There wasn’t enough time to calculate a perfect jump, he just had to hope they’d come out of the jump in unoccupied space or else they wouldn’t survive to see the other side.

There was a silence between them while the stars streaked all around the Pequod. Jace leaned back and felt the cut on his side, hoping it hadn’t done any damage to his barely-healed ribs. “Is the path to the med bay clear?” she broke the silence.

“Should be,” he said.

“We should get you patched up and check on Loren,” she said, staring out the window. “Maybe put him into stasis.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” he said, picking himself up and starting the walk toward the med bay. “I’m not sure when we’ll be able to get help for him.”

“There’s stuff out by Gimle,” Jace said, trailing behind Katrijn while she descended down the stairs and through the hall toward the med bay. “We just don’t know what else is waiting for us.”

“This wait might kill us,” she said, tapping a few commands into the pod Loren was in. The glass cover slid over his body, encasing him before sealing off.

“Or if the jump was bad,” Jace added.

“That…doesn’t help, Jace.”

“Sorry.”

The jump to the Gimle sector wasn’t a long one. Gimle was technically considered a part of the fringes but it was close to Andlios, it just didn’t contain any habitable planets. There were a few tense hours where Katrijn sat staring off into space and Jace sat at the controls trying to keep himself occupied. The jump itself was only around two hours, but the time dragged knowing that everything was changing. Jace had kicked himself for not having one of those Earth Ministry drives on his ship because of how quickly they filtered in from Gimle to Andlios, but it gave him time to consider their options.

“Alright,” he stirred Katrijn from her thoughts. “We’re about to come out of the jump, better strap in.”

“Is there any way at all to know what will be there?”

“No.” He could feel beads of sweat gathering on his forehead. “Not at all.”

“Well fuck,” she said.

“Here we go…” In an instant, the stars returned to normal and the view of the massive gate filled their window, in front of it a line of heavy cruisers. “Damnit!”

“My gods,” she muttered.

“Hang on,” he shouted, quickly taking evasive maneuvers. “This is going to be a bumpy ride.”

“Where are we—” Boom, shot after shot came in, Jace dodging as best as he could while he gritted his teeth. Finally, the ship shook and Jace swore under his breath and started to panic. “What happened?”

“We just took a hit,” he said, flipping a few switches quickly. “Nothing serious, but I have to depressurize the aft crew quarters. Is Loren still in med bay?”

“Yes,” she yelled over the chaos.

“Okay, he’ll be fine, but we shouldn’t go anywhere until we are safe. Fuck.” He slammed his fist onto the dash. “The steering is fucked!”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that the engine might have gotten clipped as well; it’s not reading anything, but dammit, possibly the side thrusters. The gate is approaching,” he said, his knuckles white while he gripped onto the ship’s wheel.

“The gate?” she asked, confused. “What do you mean the gate?” She looked up and saw the giant series of objects arranged into an oval-shaped gate moving ever-closer to the ship. “You don’t mean—”

“Yes, I do!” he said, steering them directly into the heart of it.

“You don’t know how it works, or where it will send us.” She felt panicked, the restraints on the chair feeling oppressive while she began to sweat. “Or who will be waiting on the other side!”

“We got caught up in a fleet battle! Nobody will care about a few civilians on a civilian ship…”

“You just said they were looking for us!”

“They are looking for us.” He turned to her for a brief second. “They are looking for us in the Republic.”

“Oh,” she said. “Right.”

“Okay,” he said, still doing his best to steer the ship and looking like he was truly struggling. “Hold on!” he shouted, the ship steering right into the gate.

A field engulfed them, the space around them warping and turning into a tunnel of light. It felt peaceful, calm and like there was no danger, but she looked down and saw that the instruments were all reading to the contrary—the speed reading off the HyperMass charts and the heat outside at critical levels. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the space around them returned to normal and the instruments all went back to normal levels.

“What in the…” she gasped, looking around and seeing an entirely different view than she had ever seen before. There were a few scattered ships, none of which looked too imposing and a giant orb of metal and rock just a few moments away. “Where are we?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m trying to get a calibration, but the ship is giving me nonsense right now.”

“What does it say?” she asked, still staring off at the surreal scene.

“It says we are by Jupiter in Earth’s solar system; that giant rock right there is Ganymede.”

“It can’t be,” she shook her head. “That was almost instant, it would take weeks to get here.”

“That’s what the damned thing says!” He turned to her, looking as lost and confused as she felt. “But it can’t be.”

“I think it is,” she said. “I think we are in the Earth system.”

“Well, we haven’t been shot down yet,” he said. “I think my plan might have worked—for now.”

“For now,” she nodded. “But now what?”

“I really don’t know,” he said. “I have no idea.”

Epilogue. The Crash

Rorian

The great gate hung in the air like an omen, illuminating the sky that had previously just been dark space. Life on Ganymede was difficult enough, Rorian mused, brushing aside his long, stringy black hair from out of his eyes. Father had told him to check on the harvesters while he went into town, but Rorian wasn’t feeling too great and was taking his time with his chores all afternoon.

He was born on Mars and had lived his whole life inside the great bubble cities that had spawned there and when his father explained that they were moving to Ganymede, he had assumed that it was to live in a similar, although newer and more advanced city. There was a special project that was attracting some of the greatest minds in all of the Earth Ministry to Ganymede, which he now knew just to be that stupid ring in the sky that the fleet had flown through. His father explained that it was to reach the Andliosians easier, that they were working on repairing things and pulling everyone back together, but it seemed remote to Rorian. What did anyone on Andlios matter in the grand scheme of things, anyway? They had left and it was before any of them were ever born.

The Omega Destiny was one of the three ships that claimed independence when they got to their destination and one of two that found human life on other planets. Well, he guessed it depended on what you considered the Cydonians. The Alpha Destiny had reached Alpha 27 and discovered the Cydonians, who had technology beyond anyone’s wildest imaginations. While there was initially some concern about the Cydonians, led by a man dressed in a dark suit with a red cape called Am’ranth, when they vowed to help those on Earth with their technology, that unease quickly dissipated. Especially when they learned of the mission and how one of the ships was headed to the planet they had called Andlios.

All of those things were exciting, though, unlike Rorian’s life now. He thought he was headed out to the frontier to live in a state-of-the-art facility where his father would continue being a professor. Instead, they had moved all the way out here to be farmers. His father taught botany on Mars and the Earth Ministry had found his research into farming on alien planets to be valuable, thus here he was, the son of a farmer now, who had to don a vacuum suit to go check on the harvesters and make sure that everything was still working.

Ganymede’s surface was cold and unforgiving, but they still found ways to grow the crops they needed out there. Rorian wasn’t sure how it worked, but his father was so proud of his work that he found it hard to complain that often to him. Rorian pulled on his vacuum suit. It was bulky, but it needed to be to keep him warm out on the surface that ranged from -170 Celsius to -120 when it was “warm.” He had seen cases of men who had been exposed to the elements and they didn’t look pretty. In a way, it was an adventure, although he would have been much more comfortable living on the station proper, which snaked around most of the surface of the moon.

Their plot of land was immense, but it was hard for it to not feel isolated and depressing. After he was suited up, he stepped into the airlock and ran the cycle, waiting for the green light before he opened the outer hatch. He had left their rover out a few meters, which was a stupid decision considering he’d have to cycle the airlocks on that as well, but he simply sighed to himself and stepped out onto the surface, making sure not to overstep and find himself drifting off toward the abyss. It was only a few steps thanks to the reduced gravity before he activated the magnet on his glove and zeroed in on the rover, feeling the click before he opened the airlock and stepped inside, pulling the heavy door shut with a click and waiting for the cabin to pressurize.

When the light came on he moved into the driver’s seat and pulled his helmet off, placing it on the seat next to him, wondering how crazy his hair looked. His dad had always been on him about keeping it trimmed and short, but after they had moved out into the middle of nowhere he had let up on him about it, especially considering how few people they actually interacted with on a normal basis. He drove toward the first set of harvesters; although he had considered saving them for the return trip, they were usually the ones in the best working order, so he figured he might as well start things off easily.

Just before he reached them, he looked up when he saw a flaming streak across the sky. It was moving quickly and heading toward the third set of harvesters when he heard a loud boom and quickly checked the readings from the harvesters and saw them reporting damage. “Goddamnit!” he swore. “Guess I have to head out there first. More junk from that stupid ring of theirs.”

He quickly looped the rover around, heading instead out to the west by the third harvesters. The closer he approached, the larger the object became. Initially, he had just assumed it was another meteorite or even some space junk. There had been more and more space junk over the past few days after the fleets headed through the gate, but this was far too big to be junk from a ship. In fact, it was huge, looking almost like a ship, but not like one he had ever seen.

When he was finally a few meters from it he couldn’t ignore the fact that it was a ship and completely unlike anything else he had ever seen. Was it a Cydonian ship they were testing out? He couldn’t be sure, but he knew he had to check for survivors. He parked the rover and pulled his helmet back on, waiting for it to seal before he scooted over into the airlock, his heart pounding in his chest. The green light felt like it took an eternity before he was able to throw the small door open and make a dash for the ship.

At the door, he fumbled around looking for an airlock switch like he was used to, but couldn’t find one. He blindly fumbled around with his hands against the hull until he felt something depress and saw the door slide up into the ship. He stepped inside and looked for a similar button, pressing it and the outside door closed down. After a few seconds, the inside door opened up and he stepped inside, noticing the smoke and sparks coming from the ship but his helmet reading that it was still pressurized. He tugged his helmet off but kept it at his side.

“Hello?” he called out, carefully stepping over debris that lined the steel floor. A wire buzzed at him overhead, sending him jumping back and hitting the wall, his head bouncing off a pipe. “Goddamnit,” he said, rubbing his head but still moving forward. He reached a set of stairs and found himself climbing up them. “Hello, is there anyone here? I’m here to help.”

He reached the top of the stairs, finding a similar switch to what he found outside and pressed it, only for the door to zip open and for him to find himself staring down the barrel of a gun.

“Stop right there,” a man’s voice said. Rorian raised his arms up, his helmet dropping at his feet.

“Okay, wait,” he said. “I’m here to help, I saw the crash and came to see what I could do, I promise.”

“You aren’t with the Earth Ministry?” the man asked, a woman at his side holding two knives at the ready.

“No, I mean,” he paused. “My dad kind of is, but he’s just a farmer.”

“Okay,” the man said. “We need your help…what’s your name?”

“I’m Rorian,” he said.

“Okay, Rorian,” the man lowered his gun. “My name is Jace and this here is Ka—”

“My name is Eja,” the woman said, cutting him off. “Eja Krios and this is my dipshit of a husband, Jace. We are sorry we startled you.” She tucked her knives away. “There was a crazy battle where we just came from and we got caught up in it, but somehow we ended up here. Where is here?”

“Um, this is Ganymede,” he said, puzzled. “Wait, did you come through the gate? That gate up there?”

“Yes, Rorian,” she smiled at him, her blonde hair matted down on her face, stuck there by a patch of dried blood. “We are from Andlios.”

“Holy shit,” he said. “There’s no way.”

“Yes, way,” she said. “We need your help, Rorian. We have a friend who is injured down in our med bay, do you think you can help us?”

“Yeah, my rover is just right outside, although it’s pretty cold out there, do you have heated suits?”

“No,” Jace shook his head. “We have suits, but how cold are we talking.”

“It’s 115 Kelvin right now, so…-158?”

“Gods,” Jace swore. “Could you just pull it into the cargo hold, as long as I can open it, then pressurize and we can move our friend into it from there?”

“I think so,” Rorian said, looking around what must be the cockpit of the ship. “This is a pretty big ship, I should be able to fit it in here.”

“Okay, good.”

“Rorian,” Eja said. “Do you think anyone will notice or come looking for our ship?”

“Out here?” he laughed. “Fat chance. Ever since they assembled those fleets up there by the gate, we’ve had a bunch of crap fall down here. I was out here to repair any of the damage from it when you fell down.”

“Good, good,” she said, looking relieved. “And will we be safe with you?”

“It’s just my dad and I,” he said. “We’re always pretty lonely and nothing ever happens to us. You’ll be fine, I think.”

“Great,” Jace said. “That’s great, kid.”

The adventure continues in ^{Andlios Book Three: Ganymede’s Gate}.

Join my email list now to receive a copy of a prequel novella, ^{The Cymage}, absolutely free!

Copyright

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

CYDONIA RISING

All rights reserved.

Copyright © 2019 by Dave Walsh.

Edited by Amanda West.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

First ebook edition: September, 2019.

Printed in the United States of America

First Edition: September, 2019

Find out more about the author and his upcoming books at ^{https://www.dvewlsh.com} or ^@dvewlsh.

Table of Contents

000. Space Girl

001. The Princess in Exile

002. The Palace

003. The Plot

004. The Dark Side of Cyngen

005. The Mad King

006. The Grand Illusion

007. The Collector

008. The Fallen Empress

009. The Gods Among Us

010. The Blade Dancer

011. The Chase

012. The Long Journey

013. The Monastery

014. The Cold Night

015. The Return

016. Security Breach

017. Leaving Hope

018. Home Again

019. Homeward Bound

020. Calculated Risks

021. Old Friends

022. Arrival

023. The Regret of Detainment

024. The Wild Ones

025. Lost Time

026. The Ruler’s Folly

027. Wild at Heart

028. Memory Lane

029. Systematic Failure

030. Zahira Nights

031. Bonds

032. The Raid

033. Of Plans and Failures

034. Promises

035. Things Falling Apart

036. Crash the Gates

037. Forced Hand

038. The Bait and the Prey

039. The Palace

040. Meeting of the Minds

041. The Scourge of the Fourth Fleet

042. Escape

Epilogue. The Crash

Copyright

Table of Contents

000. Space Girl

001. The Princess in Exile

002. The Palace

003. The Plot

004. The Dark Side of Cyngen

005. The Mad King

006. The Grand Illusion

007. The Collector

008. The Fallen Empress

009. The Gods Among Us

010. The Blade Dancer

011. The Chase

012. The Long Journey

013. The Monastery

014. The Cold Night

015. The Return

016. Security Breach

017. Leaving Hope

018. Home Again

019. Homeward Bound

020. Calculated Risks

021. Old Friends

022. Arrival

023. The Regret of Detainment

024. The Wild Ones

025. Lost Time

026. The Ruler’s Folly

027. Wild at Heart

028. Memory Lane

029. Systematic Failure

030. Zahira Nights

031. Bonds

032. The Raid

033. Of Plans and Failures

034. Promises

035. Things Falling Apart

036. Crash the Gates

037. Forced Hand

038. The Bait and the Prey

039. The Palace

040. Meeting of the Minds

041. The Scourge of the Fourth Fleet

042. Escape

Epilogue. The Crash

Copyright