Posted in two parts due to length.
Midori – Japanese; Green
Part 9
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Bo and Koen stood guard at the cave entrance, scanning the horizon for the ship that they hoped would be their salvation. The three had been gone for several hours now, and the two soldiers struggled to keep their composed guise intact. Every minute that ticked away was another chink in their armor of the ‘control’ that they let the survivors see.
Mabyn had soon fallen into a restless sleep against Isabel’s shoulder. The tall blonde had been entirely surprised at her ability to relate to the young girl. Despite her innate insecurity, Isabel had eased Mabyn’s fear relatively easily. Soon after the girl initiated Isabel in conversation, Mabyn’s eyes had softened; the childlike awe of Isabel in particular was amazing. Isabel knew that the commoners had always looked up to her, admired her, but she had never seen it first hand on such an intimate, innocent level. Mabyn was truly a wonder of souls.
Most of the survivors had drifted off into slumber in their waiting. Bo and Koen had taken shifts to check their status, especially Max’s who seemed to hibernate in his position. They had noticed how he hadn’t moved from his spot on the cold cave floor in several hours. His eyes were closed, but they both knew he wasn’t sleeping. It was almost as if he was meditating, preserving his energy.
“How’s our water?” Koen asked softly, so as not to disturb the survivors.
“Full. Rylie made sure that our supplies were up to par.” Koen nodded at his answer, and Bo continued, “How much longer, do you think?”
Koen turned to lean on the right side of the entrance wall, propping his right foot under his knee. “Dunno. Soon, I hope.” He went about cleaning his weapon, extracting a rag from a back pocket of his pants.
“Yeah.” Bo nodded, his green eyes never leaving the landscape in front of him.
They fell into a silence, which had happened quite frequently in the hours that had passed on their guard duty. Koen cleaned his weapon, Bo stood guard. While just two hours earlier Koen had stood guard while Bo cleaned his weapon.
“So, I gotta ask.” Bo waited for Koen to look up at him before he voiced his question. “Why did Michael decide on Cantu?”
Koen shook his head in the negative. “I dunno. It’s the last place I want to go.”
“Why’s that?”
“When I was accepted into the army, my first rotation was on Cantu … back in the day when the ports were still open. You know before that sandstorm that knocked out transmissions for like two weeks. Remember that?”
Bo nodded; a small smile graced his face at the memory. “Yeah, I was still in the academy.”
“Ah man, you’re dating me here.” He shook his head, “That makes you, what – 24, 25?”
“22.”
“Shit,” Koen mocked himself. He shook his head and sighed heavily. “Anyway, back then, Cantu was known as the ‘Shit Rotation.’ If you could survive Cantu’s rotation, you could survive anything. No water, no sun, and when there was sun there was way too much. No electricity, cause most of it was solar. And all that fuckin’ sand.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“It was hell. When they closed the military ports cause of the damage, I think I partied for a week straight. No bar was left untouched. But I gotta admit, it definitely roughed me up, got me ready for scouting and shit. Definitely helped.”
Bo nodded, and turned to the landscape again, and his eyes grew large. “Holy shit!”
Koen was at alert immediately, and his eyes acknowledged the same sight. Both watched as the Rumigan neared the cave. His toothy grin said, “There’s the cavalry.”
They turned to the survivors, clapping and saying loudly, “Everyone up! It’s time to go. They’re on their way. Let’s go, let’s go!” They spanned the cave, jostling the sleeping figures, and as their eyes cleared of the fog, they moved quickly, gathering supplies and readying themselves for their trip to a new planet.
Isabel helped Mabyn up, who at the moment was cranky from the rough awakening. She took the small girl in her arms, and soothingly rubbed her back, waiting for Mabyn to wake up fully. She clung to Isabel in her semi-sleep, her head resting instinctively in the crook of Isabel’s throat and shoulder, and Mabyn’s legs wrapping around the woman’s thin waist.
Max stood slowly, leaning against the wall, waiting for his leg to stop tingling. Sitting with his legs crossed for hours on end had caused his right leg to fall asleep … painfully. He kept his eyes closed, avoiding as much human contact as possible. He had too much on his mind …
“Are you ready to see Kyle?” Isabel asked Mabyn quietly. When she felt the girl nod, she continued, “He’s on his way. He’ll be here any minute.”
“Really?”
Isabel nodded.
“Uh huh.” She neared the opening of the cave, and saw the small ship in the distance. “Look, Mabyn. There he is.”
She pointed to the silhouette of the Rumigan. Mabyn scrunched her face in confusion.
“He’s in that?”
Isabel nodded. “Uh huh.”
“Its kinda small.”
Isabel thought for a moment, examining the ship. “Yeah,” she said quietly to no one in particular.
“Alright, everyone. Listen up.” Koen clapped again loudly, assuming his leadership role quickly and efficiently. Everyone in the cave surrounded him, waiting for orders.
“I’m gonna give you the order that we leave the cave. It's women and children, then men. And I know, it might seem a little sexist, so ladies … save it. I don’t want to hear it.” He missed Isabel’s obvious eye roll.
“Here’s what we’re gonna do,” Koen said loudly getting the attention of everyone in the cave. “Bo goes first, with Isabel and Mabyn. You follow close behind. Bo’s your guard,” he said pointing to them in their corner. They nodded in agreement.
“Rylie, you’re next with the supplies.” She nodded to the soldier. “You two are next,” he directed to the two older men standing next to each other. “When you two leave the cave, I want you close together – shoulder length apart.”
“Why?” the larger man asked in confusion.
“Because, you’re going to be a shield for Max.”
He turned his attention to the quiet man standing in the very back. Max’s head popped up at the mention of his name.
“Max, you’re right after them. I want you to stay close to them, in case anyone is out there. They’ll be flanking you, like a shield on both sides. Alright?” he asked the three, not expecting any answer but a yes.
The two older men assigned their position regretfully nodded, as if they had a choice in the matter. Max replied, “Yeah,” quietly, and noncommittally.
“Alright. I’ll be last, covering everyone as they leave. Are we clear?”
“Is all this really necessary?” Isabel asked, drawing everyone’s attention. Under their scrutiny, she faltered briefly, but continued nonetheless. “I mean, no one knows we’re here, right?”
He sighed at the inquiry. Leave it to the Princess to question a seasoned soldier’s reasoning. “True. But we have to be careful. Just because they shouldn’t be here, and we can’t see them, doesn’t mean they aren’t there. We have to protect the King.”
Isabel and Max’s eyes met at Koen’s last words. King? Isabel’s eyebrow rose in question, and Max shook his head at her, silently telling her to not bring it up. That was definitely a discussion for a later date.
Isabel lowered Mabyn to the floor slowly in preparation. She needed to give her back a rest.
Removed from the group, Max fought against the numerous voices and thoughts in his head, and he had to literally shake his head to help clear it.
He sighed deeply through his exhaustion and confusion. He had wanted to sleep just for a few hours so desperately, but his brain just wouldn’t rest. It was working overtime with the implications of their attempt at escape. There were so many ‘what ifs’ and unanswered questions. Too many chances at disaster and death.
As he cleared his mind, somewhat unsuccessfully, Koen’s last statement started to sink in. This could be my last chance, he thought. He kept his eyes down, and neared Isabel slowly, rounding the small group that was now centered at the entrance. “Iz?”
“Yeah?” she said quietly, recognizing Mabyn’s now near-conscious state as she stood next to Isabel clutching her hand.
He took one second to question it, before he embraced her in a tight, brotherly hug. “Be careful, alright?”
She was slow to respond, but soon her hands rose and hugged him back. “Yeah. I will. You too.”
He nodded against her shoulder. His heart raced in his chest at the anticipation. Someone could be out there; Koen had admitted it outright. Someone could be out there waiting for them to leave. Waiting for him, but worse yet, waiting for her to leave. He couldn’t lose Isabel too.
After several long moments, Isabel realized Max’s desperation. “Max, I’m going to be fine, okay?” she reassured softly. “Everything’s going to be okay. We’re getting out of this.”
She felt Max pull away slowly, his back and shoulders stiff with emotion. She gasped at the look on his face when it came into view.
A small tear fell across his cheek as he responded passionately, “I can’t lose you.”
Her heart constricted in her chest, the aching feeling of loss surrounding her. “You won’t,” she promised. “You won’t ever lose me, Max.”
He nodded jerkily and, attempting to lighten the suddenly dark mood, replied, “I’m going to hold you to that.”
She smiled through her tears. “You better.”
The moment was broken as they heard the ship appear and Koen yell to them, “Isabel, front and center!”
Her eyes never left his as she vowed, “I’ll see you on the ship.”
He nodded, unable to respond.
He watched as she tugged on Mabyn’s hand, guiding her to the entrance. The little girl was timid in the wake of the loud, abrasive sounds from the Rumigan, and shyly brought her hands up, silently asking to be held. Isabel was quick to embrace her in her arms again.
“Mabyn, are you scared?” she asked the little girl in her arms.
She felt her nod sadly.
“Close your eyes until I say to open them. You won’t be so afraid, okay?”
The only response she got was Mabyn clinging to her neck tighter, and she assumed that Mabyn had agreed and shut her eyes.
They all stood watching as the small ship neared, turned, and lowered to the ground. The gate opened and, when the landing gear had settled on the gravel, Koen readied Isabel.
“You ready?” he yelled over the sounds of the ship.
She hesitated, and took one lasting look over her shoulder to Max. They held each other’s gaze for several seconds, until Max nodded. She attempted a smile in response, but knew she failed miserably.
She turned to Koen, and said, “Yeah.”
“Alright,” he said, waiting for a signal inside.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Kyle, get on the gunner.”
Before the sentence was finished Michael could see Kyle sprinting from the cabin, down the corridor, and into the small outcropping on the ship, which held the controls of one of two gunners on the Rumigan. Michael sat in his seat next to Alex, helping him guide the ship to the ground safely. Not all of the guidance equipment was working, and two men were needed to land the ship safely.
All three were now wearing the comlinks, talking back and forth.
Kyle’s nerves were at high alert now that they were at the cave. He literally jumped into the seat of the gunner, controls in front of him. He had verified earlier that both gunners were fully operational. Another small wonder in their streak of luck. After pushing four buttons, switching the auxiliary button on, and strapping himself in, he animatedly told Michael through the comlink, “Ready.”
“Alright.” He turned to Alex soon after, “Alex, buddy. You got this?”
Alex nodded silently, completely focused on the task at hand. His hands had long since stopped shaking. The adrenaline running through his body was an amazing sensation. He hadn’t experienced anything even remotely close to it since training, some ten years ago. Which was about as long since he had been the pilot of a ship. He didn’t think Michael had noticed anything strange. Thank God.
Michael took in his response, and pushed one button above him opening the gate, and pulled one to his right to release the landing gear. He unstrapped himself while saying, “Alright. I’m going to the gate. I’ll let you know when to take off.”
Alex nodded again while maneuvering the ship to turn. The rear end of the Rumigan now faced the entrance of the cave, and he heard the landing gear lower.
Michael passed Kyle’s corner in the ship and, without stopping, yelled to him, “Kyle?”
“Nothing yet. Its all quiet.”
Michael nodded, even though Kyle couldn’t see. “Don’t hesitate to shoot. You see something, you kill it, understand?” he ordered thru the comlink as he entered the cargo bay.
“Yes sir,” he confirmed, without an ounce of sarcasm. There wasn’t time to think of a witty remark with his brain on overload anyway. All pretense of friendship fell away as their soldier personas took over.
Michael came to the end of the ship, watching as the gate opened and the ship to land. The steam emitted from the ship, fogging his vision somewhat. The pressure lock gave, and the heat of the suns entered the ship. The steam cleared, and he saw the dark opening, Koen standing guard and yelling something at Isabel, who was clutching the small child to her chest.
He frantically motioned for them to begin the exit, and Koen nodded.
“Ready?” he yelled to the survivors. None were quick with a response, but Koen wasn’t expecting one anyway. It was merely an announcement of action. They were finally on their way to safety.
Bo clutched Isabel’s arm tightly, saying more to himself then anyone else, “Here we go.” He ran out first with laser gun in hand, quickly scanning his surroundings for any enemy. Isabel was close behind, Mabyn’s grip so tight her air began to catch in her throat.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Do we engage, sir?”
Brody thought for a moment, and then shook his head. “No. Wait for the Prince.”
“Yes, sir.” The soldier maintained the position of the hovercraft and aimed his weapon at the entrance, waiting for his target to appear.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
They reached the gate soon after with no difficulty. Michael pulled them in quickly, squeezing her arm before motioning for them to go to the back of the cargo bay. There wasn’t time for any discussion now. Later, when they were on their way to Cantu, he would engulf Isabel in the best hug he could muster. Right now he had other things on his mind. Knowing she was safe did wonders for his concentration.
“Get on the second gunner!” he yelled at Bo, who immediately obeyed and disappeared down the corridor.
He motioned for the next survivor to enter.
Rylie was hesitant at first. Koen pushed her forward and she bravely crossed the distance between her and the ship, carrying the first aid kits, water canteens, and food cases on her shoulders and back. Michael pulled her in as well, and she stumbled over to Isabel and Mabyn, who were both seated in a ball, in a far corner of the cargo bay.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Alright, you boys ready?” Koen inquired roughly, pulling the two men to the entrance of the cave. He stepped away quickly, not waiting for an answer. He didn’t catch the dreading look that passed between the two.
“Max? Its time to go, sir.”
Max nodded reluctantly. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to leave. He had to actively fight his body to not run out early. His hands literally shook with the anticipation of the event. But he certainly didn’t want the two men who were now standing just before him, to possibly give their lives for him. He wasn’t worth it. He had seen Isabel and Mabyn make it safely to the ship. And while they were by no means out of the woods, it had been a huge relief to witness Michael pulling them to safety.
He readied himself for the short run to the Rumigan, shaking his head to clear the fog.
Rylie entered just seconds later, and Koen was motioning for them to leave next.
“Go fast, and don’t look back,” he instructed loudly over the continuing racket from the ship.
They all acknowledged the advice silently.
“Go! GO!”
The two men hesitantly began to run, literally for their lives, with Max in between them.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Shit!” Brody said, as he saw through his binoculars the two men come into view, with Max between them completely shielded.
He grasped the comlink in his hand and yelled loudly, “Engage! Engage!”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Providence - Book One (M/L-ADULT) Completed
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truman11883
- Enthusiastic Roswellian
- Posts: 69
- Joined: Fri Apr 04, 2003 8:45 pm
- Location: St. Louis, Missouri, USA, Planet Earth
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truman11883
- Enthusiastic Roswellian
- Posts: 69
- Joined: Fri Apr 04, 2003 8:45 pm
- Location: St. Louis, Missouri, USA, Planet Earth
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Koen had been scanning the landscape around them when the man on Max’s right fell hard to the ground. Koen could see the yellow dart in his neck as he gasped for breath, red blood oozing into the brown dirt below him.
Max caught movement on his right side, and saw the man on the ground, writhing in pain. “Oh God,” he said breathlessly, and unknowingly slowed his progress in fright.
Koen quickly took the man’s position, not stopping to help the doomed man. There wasn’t time. He pointed his gun in the direction the dart had come from, and shot off three quick blasts. Koen grabbed Max’s tunic tightly and dragged him for several feet, shouting loudly, “Go! Go! Don’t stop!”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Michael held out his hand, preparing to pull Max to safety when he saw the man hit the ground hard.
“Oh shit,” he mumbled under his breath. He had known all along. There had been someone out there. Damn it!
“Kyle!” he ordered through the comlink, still at the gate anticipating Max’s arrival.
“I don’t see them! Where are they?!” Kyle asked frantically.
“Fuck it, just shoot!”
Kyle unleashed his weapon, red laser shots emitted from the canister. Seconds later a large green bubble formed in the distance. The Seroan ship, a Midori, came into view as their cloaking device was destroyed, and the green bubble dissipated. A chain effect transpired, the mother ship’s cloaking device failed and all connected ones did as well. The Midori was much larger than the Rumigan, a silver-green metal exterior, and a rounded, glass window in the front. Kyle knew that the ensuing battle would be quite one sided, unless another miracle was in their horizon.
“Engaged! I got ‘em!” he yelled through the comlink. Soon after, he could hear Bo shooting as well. Both were shooting frantically at the two ships surrounding them, one Midori on each side of the Rumigan. Smaller hovercrafts could be seen, after their cloaking devices fell away too.
All hell broke loose.
Green lasers shot it one direction, red in another. Max and Koen scrambled to the Rumigan as they saw the other man on Max’s left fall hard as well.
Michael pulled Max in roughly, Koen shooting at the hovercrafts relentlessly. Two of the smaller ships went down hard under Koen’s wrath, blasting into pieces on the dirt; the third retreated quickly to a large Seroan ship in the distance.
“Alex, get us the fuck out of here!” Michael yelled into his microphone. He hit the release for the gate above his head firmly, and moved to the corridor leading to the cabin. Koen continued to shoot until the gate closed completely, and then huddled the survivors together.
“Everyone stay together. Don’t move.”
“Is everyone alright?” Rylie asked, examining the survivors quickly for any injuries.
Max took his seat by Isabel, clutching her and Mabyn to him fiercely. Isabel hid her face in his shoulder, as the image of the two fallen men resurfaced her parents’ deaths behind her eyelids.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“What the hell happened?” Alex asked sternly, when he heard Michael enter the cabin.
“We’re surrounded, God damn it!” he cursed himself.
Alex’s eyes grew large in acknowledgement, and returned to the controls in front of him. When he had heard Michael order their take off, he had acted swiftly, employing the thrusters, adding an extra boost for good measure and hopefully good luck, and retracted the landing gear.
They now hovered close to the ground, the Rumigan awkwardly attempting to break gravity with the added weight. For a second Alex feared he had calculated wrong, and that the ship would crash into the ground below them, sending them all into a painful death. Either by his hands or by Khivar’s, and he wasn’t sure which one would be worse.
But then the thrusters came to full life, glowing bright blue in the engine room, and the Rumigan broke gravity, sending them into the atmosphere of Antar.
“Go, go, go,” Michael said to himself, willing the small ship to go faster.
He reached quickly to his left on the board in front of him and switched on the surveillance scanner, and the images of the two Midori ships came into view.
Alex saw the holographic image, and his eyes widened again. “Oh shit.”
“I know,” Michael said grimly.
Just then the ship shook radically with the impact of a direct hit.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Damn it, they broke gravity,” Larek said to himself, while watching the Rumigan’s attempted retreat through the large window in the Seroan ship. “Brody, come back,” he said through the comlink attached to his head, with the microphone positioned at his mouth.
“We’re on our way. The Prince is on the ship!” he yelled through his communicator.
“Copy that,” Larek responded, and moved swiftly to the young man stationed at a desk in front of the window.
He leaned close to his ear, intimidating the poor young cadet to death with the fierceness of his words. “I don’t care what you do,” he growled. “But get that ship the fuck out of the sky.”
“Yes sir,” his voice managed to squeak out.
Larek turned his grim face to the window, acknowledging Brody’s hovercraft returning to the ship’s gate. His hands gripped the railing in front of him tightly, his knuckles turning red, and then white. He’d be damned if he failed this mission a second time.
He half listened as the cadet reported a direct hit on the Rumigan. It didn’t matter. They weren’t out of the sky yet.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Screams were all that were heard in the cargo area. The light flickered off and then on. Steam and smoke began to emit from secret placed in the floor and ceiling panels.
Koen moved to put out the small fire.
All the civilians were huddled together, silently praying for their lives. Their heads were lowered, Max’s looming figure covering Isabel and Mabyn, while Koen moved to cover Rylie.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Direct hit,” Alex’s broken voice reported dutifully after the tremor faded.
“No shit,” Michael retorted, and then bellowed into the comlink, “Kyle, keep them off our ass!”
“I’m trying!” he replied, busily firing at the ship.
His red lasers continued to hit the ship in front of him, but with little success. He watched the target holograph in front of him expectantly, as the computer scanned for the optimum target of the looming Midori. It locked on the front, bottom panel of the silver-green ship, and Kyle unleashed his fury, aiming and rapidly firing at the panel. Seconds later the ship blew from inside out into a million pieces, fire and smoke billowing from the impact.
Michael and Alex both witnessed the explosion, and cheered into the comlink.
Kyle sagged in a short-lived relief. He turned in his seat quickly as yelled to Bo, “The bottom panel! The bottom panel!”
“What?” Bo asked absently, as he continued to fire at the ship, which in turn continued to shoot at him.
He entered Bo’s adjacent gunner room, giving him the extra comlink to report to Michael.
“Try the bottom panel in the front! Its weak,” he suggested.
Bo reacted, and shot several times, with no success.
“Shit!” he cursed, raking his hands through his hair in frustration. “They centered their shield on the panel.”
“Looks that way,” Bo replied, while continuing to shoot frantically.
“One ship left, sir.” Bo’s voice reported to Michael, and Kyle stood watch as the computer frantically searched for a target. He clung tightly to Bo’s seat as the ship changed direction suddenly.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Copy that,” Michael responded, as he watched Alex guide the ship over and under the green lasers from the remaining ship.
The green blasts trailed the Rumigan in the air, as Alex moved the Rumigan down and then took a hard right, trying to out run the laser shots. Michael’s stomach dropped with the sudden altitude change.
“Jesus,” he said nauseously. “Where did you learn to drive?”
Alex didn’t bother responding.
“Damn it,” he cursed to himself, instead. “I can’t out run their gunners. They’re too quick,” he told Michael.
Michael sat in frantic thought for a moment, scouring his brain for the answer. They were so close to escaping; it was literally in the palm of their hand. But they didn’t have much going for them in a Rumigan, its primary use being military transport. Not combat. If they could only find a way …
Alex had thought that maybe he could outrun the guns of the Seroan ship. The opposing craft was much larger, and while it gave them added firepower, it also slowed them down, allowing the Rumigan at least one advantage. Agility.
As if a light bulb went off above his head, “Michael, adjust the gravity-pull forty five degrees to the left.”
Michael looked at him quickly in confusion. “What?!”
“Just do it. I got an idea.”
He rolled his eyes, but adjusted the knob nonetheless. Oh what the hell, he thought. “Adjusting forty five degrees left. Complete.”
“Okay.” Alex took a steadying breath, preparing himself. “Kyle,” he said through the comlink. “Make sure the survivors are secure. They’re going to be jostled a bit.”
“Copy,” he heard through his earpiece, and soon after footsteps traveling down the corridor.
“Bo, continue rapid fire until I say.”
“Copy that,” he heard from the soldier.
“What are you planning, exactly?” Michael couldn’t help but ask, as he felt the gravity pull adjust to the new setting, pulling the front of their ship to sit directly in front of the Seroan, reminiscent of a face off. Alex continued to dodge laser shots, and then motioned to the thruster latch next to him.
“When I say, thrust full throttle.”
“What?!”
Alex turned to Michael as he readied himself and the ship, “Trust me.”
Michael turned away, staring with his mouth slightly open in shock at what Alex was implying.
“Adjust shield to front cabin, 100%,” Alex reported, as Michael hit two more buttons, moving the defense shield to completely cover the front of their ship.
“Oh shit,” he mumbled for not the first time under his breath. He grasped his armrest tightly on his right side, his left hand grasping the thruster firmly.
“Bo, cease fire.”
“Acknowledged,” Bo reported, removing his hands from his gunner. With that, all the extra energy in the Rumigan moved to the defense shield.
“Michael, now!”
Michael thrust forward, giving the thrusters in the engine room full power.
They hurtled toward the Seroan ship, the nose of the Rumigan seemingly plummeting toward the earth. The Seroan gunners could not get a lock, and their laser blasts missed their target widely.
Their pace grew, faster and faster and faster …
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“What the hell are they doing?” Brody turned and asked over his shoulder to Larek, as they watched the Rumigan hover in the air, dodging green lasers. Soon they circled around and centered themselves in front of the Seroan ship, the Rumigan's front cabin aimed directly at theirs, only suspended hundreds of feet in the air.
Larek looked up from his post at a computer, and watched the large window intently.
And then the image of the smaller ship started to grow bigger in their window. Bigger and bigger and bigger …
The young cadet shook his head in frustration and fear. “Sir, the computer can’t get a lock.”
Brody didn’t respond to the cadet as he and Larek witnessed the Rumigan nose-dive right at them.
Larek’s expression was complete confusion. “They’re charging.”
Brody turned quickly, “What?! Why?”
Larek shook his head. “I don’t know. Our shield is 100% front. We won’t feel a thing.”
The Seroan soldiers on board continued to frantically gain a lock on the small ship. Brody and Larek stood side by side in front of the window, watching as the Rumigan continued their descent.
As an after thought, Brody near whispered, “But … they aren’t even shooting.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The cabin in the Rumigan began to shake with the force of the decent, and soon the lasers missed them completely.
“Alex … Alex! Pull up! PULL UP!” Michael yelled.
“Retract thrusters!” Alex said suddenly, and Michael was quick to comply.
The ship slowed and allowed Alex just enough time to change direction without stalling, pulling the controls up and guiding the Rumigan into the sky, away from the Seroan ship.
“Thrust, full throttle!”
Once again, Michael thrust forward, shooting the Rumigan into the air.
“Did you see that?” Alex asked breathlessly, as his hands firmly gripped the control bar, attempting to keep its direction steady.
Michael nodded.
“We missed them by inches.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Everyone in the Seroan cabin ducked as their ship shook. The Rumigan had nearly grazed the top of the larger ship as they changed direction, and the pressure had caused their cabin to shake violently.
Brody took over the controls and slowly, the ship turned in the direction that the smaller ship was retreating.
“Engage, damn it! Engage!” Larek ordered the gunners in front of him, watching as Brody moved the ship to face the withdrawing Rumigan.
Green lasers once again littered the air.
Larek had been so sure they would have fired at them as they charged …
“Sir, we have incoming.”
Larek turned to a young cadet behind him, with a questioning look in his eyes. The Rumigan ships didn’t carry torpedoes. He turned to the window in front of him and searched the sky.
“No,” Larek said, as he saw purple blast heading their way.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Almost there.”
“Adjust shield to rear dock, 100%,” Alex ordered. Michael responded again.
Clouds passed them in a haze. Michael could feel the pull of gravity giving away as they began to enter space, and he was just about to let himself believe that they had successfully escaped.
And suddenly, they both saw it … the purple image up ahead. It was almost like a lavender blemish in the clear blue-black sky. It hurtled at them, growing larger in the view window, passing stars and planets.
No, Michael thought, realizing he had just moved their defense shield to the back of their ship to protect against the Midori blasts. If it hit them, and it was looking like it would, they would be destroyed. But he didn’t even know what ‘it’ was.
When they were about to prepare for a direct hit, the purple haze engulfed them, guiding them, wrapping them in the plum-colored cloud. No harm came to the Rumigan, instead Alex and Michael registered the thrusters’ power reaching unchartable strength, and the small ship hurtled through space at an alarming rate.
Just as quickly as it caught them, it left, flying … plunging to the Seroan ship.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
All felt and heard the impact and explosion as the purple laser hit the Midori directly.
Koen had been scanning the landscape around them when the man on Max’s right fell hard to the ground. Koen could see the yellow dart in his neck as he gasped for breath, red blood oozing into the brown dirt below him.
Max caught movement on his right side, and saw the man on the ground, writhing in pain. “Oh God,” he said breathlessly, and unknowingly slowed his progress in fright.
Koen quickly took the man’s position, not stopping to help the doomed man. There wasn’t time. He pointed his gun in the direction the dart had come from, and shot off three quick blasts. Koen grabbed Max’s tunic tightly and dragged him for several feet, shouting loudly, “Go! Go! Don’t stop!”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Michael held out his hand, preparing to pull Max to safety when he saw the man hit the ground hard.
“Oh shit,” he mumbled under his breath. He had known all along. There had been someone out there. Damn it!
“Kyle!” he ordered through the comlink, still at the gate anticipating Max’s arrival.
“I don’t see them! Where are they?!” Kyle asked frantically.
“Fuck it, just shoot!”
Kyle unleashed his weapon, red laser shots emitted from the canister. Seconds later a large green bubble formed in the distance. The Seroan ship, a Midori, came into view as their cloaking device was destroyed, and the green bubble dissipated. A chain effect transpired, the mother ship’s cloaking device failed and all connected ones did as well. The Midori was much larger than the Rumigan, a silver-green metal exterior, and a rounded, glass window in the front. Kyle knew that the ensuing battle would be quite one sided, unless another miracle was in their horizon.
“Engaged! I got ‘em!” he yelled through the comlink. Soon after, he could hear Bo shooting as well. Both were shooting frantically at the two ships surrounding them, one Midori on each side of the Rumigan. Smaller hovercrafts could be seen, after their cloaking devices fell away too.
All hell broke loose.
Green lasers shot it one direction, red in another. Max and Koen scrambled to the Rumigan as they saw the other man on Max’s left fall hard as well.
Michael pulled Max in roughly, Koen shooting at the hovercrafts relentlessly. Two of the smaller ships went down hard under Koen’s wrath, blasting into pieces on the dirt; the third retreated quickly to a large Seroan ship in the distance.
“Alex, get us the fuck out of here!” Michael yelled into his microphone. He hit the release for the gate above his head firmly, and moved to the corridor leading to the cabin. Koen continued to shoot until the gate closed completely, and then huddled the survivors together.
“Everyone stay together. Don’t move.”
“Is everyone alright?” Rylie asked, examining the survivors quickly for any injuries.
Max took his seat by Isabel, clutching her and Mabyn to him fiercely. Isabel hid her face in his shoulder, as the image of the two fallen men resurfaced her parents’ deaths behind her eyelids.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“What the hell happened?” Alex asked sternly, when he heard Michael enter the cabin.
“We’re surrounded, God damn it!” he cursed himself.
Alex’s eyes grew large in acknowledgement, and returned to the controls in front of him. When he had heard Michael order their take off, he had acted swiftly, employing the thrusters, adding an extra boost for good measure and hopefully good luck, and retracted the landing gear.
They now hovered close to the ground, the Rumigan awkwardly attempting to break gravity with the added weight. For a second Alex feared he had calculated wrong, and that the ship would crash into the ground below them, sending them all into a painful death. Either by his hands or by Khivar’s, and he wasn’t sure which one would be worse.
But then the thrusters came to full life, glowing bright blue in the engine room, and the Rumigan broke gravity, sending them into the atmosphere of Antar.
“Go, go, go,” Michael said to himself, willing the small ship to go faster.
He reached quickly to his left on the board in front of him and switched on the surveillance scanner, and the images of the two Midori ships came into view.
Alex saw the holographic image, and his eyes widened again. “Oh shit.”
“I know,” Michael said grimly.
Just then the ship shook radically with the impact of a direct hit.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Damn it, they broke gravity,” Larek said to himself, while watching the Rumigan’s attempted retreat through the large window in the Seroan ship. “Brody, come back,” he said through the comlink attached to his head, with the microphone positioned at his mouth.
“We’re on our way. The Prince is on the ship!” he yelled through his communicator.
“Copy that,” Larek responded, and moved swiftly to the young man stationed at a desk in front of the window.
He leaned close to his ear, intimidating the poor young cadet to death with the fierceness of his words. “I don’t care what you do,” he growled. “But get that ship the fuck out of the sky.”
“Yes sir,” his voice managed to squeak out.
Larek turned his grim face to the window, acknowledging Brody’s hovercraft returning to the ship’s gate. His hands gripped the railing in front of him tightly, his knuckles turning red, and then white. He’d be damned if he failed this mission a second time.
He half listened as the cadet reported a direct hit on the Rumigan. It didn’t matter. They weren’t out of the sky yet.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Screams were all that were heard in the cargo area. The light flickered off and then on. Steam and smoke began to emit from secret placed in the floor and ceiling panels.
Koen moved to put out the small fire.
All the civilians were huddled together, silently praying for their lives. Their heads were lowered, Max’s looming figure covering Isabel and Mabyn, while Koen moved to cover Rylie.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Direct hit,” Alex’s broken voice reported dutifully after the tremor faded.
“No shit,” Michael retorted, and then bellowed into the comlink, “Kyle, keep them off our ass!”
“I’m trying!” he replied, busily firing at the ship.
His red lasers continued to hit the ship in front of him, but with little success. He watched the target holograph in front of him expectantly, as the computer scanned for the optimum target of the looming Midori. It locked on the front, bottom panel of the silver-green ship, and Kyle unleashed his fury, aiming and rapidly firing at the panel. Seconds later the ship blew from inside out into a million pieces, fire and smoke billowing from the impact.
Michael and Alex both witnessed the explosion, and cheered into the comlink.
Kyle sagged in a short-lived relief. He turned in his seat quickly as yelled to Bo, “The bottom panel! The bottom panel!”
“What?” Bo asked absently, as he continued to fire at the ship, which in turn continued to shoot at him.
He entered Bo’s adjacent gunner room, giving him the extra comlink to report to Michael.
“Try the bottom panel in the front! Its weak,” he suggested.
Bo reacted, and shot several times, with no success.
“Shit!” he cursed, raking his hands through his hair in frustration. “They centered their shield on the panel.”
“Looks that way,” Bo replied, while continuing to shoot frantically.
“One ship left, sir.” Bo’s voice reported to Michael, and Kyle stood watch as the computer frantically searched for a target. He clung tightly to Bo’s seat as the ship changed direction suddenly.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Copy that,” Michael responded, as he watched Alex guide the ship over and under the green lasers from the remaining ship.
The green blasts trailed the Rumigan in the air, as Alex moved the Rumigan down and then took a hard right, trying to out run the laser shots. Michael’s stomach dropped with the sudden altitude change.
“Jesus,” he said nauseously. “Where did you learn to drive?”
Alex didn’t bother responding.
“Damn it,” he cursed to himself, instead. “I can’t out run their gunners. They’re too quick,” he told Michael.
Michael sat in frantic thought for a moment, scouring his brain for the answer. They were so close to escaping; it was literally in the palm of their hand. But they didn’t have much going for them in a Rumigan, its primary use being military transport. Not combat. If they could only find a way …
Alex had thought that maybe he could outrun the guns of the Seroan ship. The opposing craft was much larger, and while it gave them added firepower, it also slowed them down, allowing the Rumigan at least one advantage. Agility.
As if a light bulb went off above his head, “Michael, adjust the gravity-pull forty five degrees to the left.”
Michael looked at him quickly in confusion. “What?!”
“Just do it. I got an idea.”
He rolled his eyes, but adjusted the knob nonetheless. Oh what the hell, he thought. “Adjusting forty five degrees left. Complete.”
“Okay.” Alex took a steadying breath, preparing himself. “Kyle,” he said through the comlink. “Make sure the survivors are secure. They’re going to be jostled a bit.”
“Copy,” he heard through his earpiece, and soon after footsteps traveling down the corridor.
“Bo, continue rapid fire until I say.”
“Copy that,” he heard from the soldier.
“What are you planning, exactly?” Michael couldn’t help but ask, as he felt the gravity pull adjust to the new setting, pulling the front of their ship to sit directly in front of the Seroan, reminiscent of a face off. Alex continued to dodge laser shots, and then motioned to the thruster latch next to him.
“When I say, thrust full throttle.”
“What?!”
Alex turned to Michael as he readied himself and the ship, “Trust me.”
Michael turned away, staring with his mouth slightly open in shock at what Alex was implying.
“Adjust shield to front cabin, 100%,” Alex reported, as Michael hit two more buttons, moving the defense shield to completely cover the front of their ship.
“Oh shit,” he mumbled for not the first time under his breath. He grasped his armrest tightly on his right side, his left hand grasping the thruster firmly.
“Bo, cease fire.”
“Acknowledged,” Bo reported, removing his hands from his gunner. With that, all the extra energy in the Rumigan moved to the defense shield.
“Michael, now!”
Michael thrust forward, giving the thrusters in the engine room full power.
They hurtled toward the Seroan ship, the nose of the Rumigan seemingly plummeting toward the earth. The Seroan gunners could not get a lock, and their laser blasts missed their target widely.
Their pace grew, faster and faster and faster …
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“What the hell are they doing?” Brody turned and asked over his shoulder to Larek, as they watched the Rumigan hover in the air, dodging green lasers. Soon they circled around and centered themselves in front of the Seroan ship, the Rumigan's front cabin aimed directly at theirs, only suspended hundreds of feet in the air.
Larek looked up from his post at a computer, and watched the large window intently.
And then the image of the smaller ship started to grow bigger in their window. Bigger and bigger and bigger …
The young cadet shook his head in frustration and fear. “Sir, the computer can’t get a lock.”
Brody didn’t respond to the cadet as he and Larek witnessed the Rumigan nose-dive right at them.
Larek’s expression was complete confusion. “They’re charging.”
Brody turned quickly, “What?! Why?”
Larek shook his head. “I don’t know. Our shield is 100% front. We won’t feel a thing.”
The Seroan soldiers on board continued to frantically gain a lock on the small ship. Brody and Larek stood side by side in front of the window, watching as the Rumigan continued their descent.
As an after thought, Brody near whispered, “But … they aren’t even shooting.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The cabin in the Rumigan began to shake with the force of the decent, and soon the lasers missed them completely.
“Alex … Alex! Pull up! PULL UP!” Michael yelled.
“Retract thrusters!” Alex said suddenly, and Michael was quick to comply.
The ship slowed and allowed Alex just enough time to change direction without stalling, pulling the controls up and guiding the Rumigan into the sky, away from the Seroan ship.
“Thrust, full throttle!”
Once again, Michael thrust forward, shooting the Rumigan into the air.
“Did you see that?” Alex asked breathlessly, as his hands firmly gripped the control bar, attempting to keep its direction steady.
Michael nodded.
“We missed them by inches.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Everyone in the Seroan cabin ducked as their ship shook. The Rumigan had nearly grazed the top of the larger ship as they changed direction, and the pressure had caused their cabin to shake violently.
Brody took over the controls and slowly, the ship turned in the direction that the smaller ship was retreating.
“Engage, damn it! Engage!” Larek ordered the gunners in front of him, watching as Brody moved the ship to face the withdrawing Rumigan.
Green lasers once again littered the air.
Larek had been so sure they would have fired at them as they charged …
“Sir, we have incoming.”
Larek turned to a young cadet behind him, with a questioning look in his eyes. The Rumigan ships didn’t carry torpedoes. He turned to the window in front of him and searched the sky.
“No,” Larek said, as he saw purple blast heading their way.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Almost there.”
“Adjust shield to rear dock, 100%,” Alex ordered. Michael responded again.
Clouds passed them in a haze. Michael could feel the pull of gravity giving away as they began to enter space, and he was just about to let himself believe that they had successfully escaped.
And suddenly, they both saw it … the purple image up ahead. It was almost like a lavender blemish in the clear blue-black sky. It hurtled at them, growing larger in the view window, passing stars and planets.
No, Michael thought, realizing he had just moved their defense shield to the back of their ship to protect against the Midori blasts. If it hit them, and it was looking like it would, they would be destroyed. But he didn’t even know what ‘it’ was.
When they were about to prepare for a direct hit, the purple haze engulfed them, guiding them, wrapping them in the plum-colored cloud. No harm came to the Rumigan, instead Alex and Michael registered the thrusters’ power reaching unchartable strength, and the small ship hurtled through space at an alarming rate.
Just as quickly as it caught them, it left, flying … plunging to the Seroan ship.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
All felt and heard the impact and explosion as the purple laser hit the Midori directly.
God is a comedian playing to an audience too afraid to laugh.
~Voltaire
~Voltaire
-
truman11883
- Enthusiastic Roswellian
- Posts: 69
- Joined: Fri Apr 04, 2003 8:45 pm
- Location: St. Louis, Missouri, USA, Planet Earth
Zamora – Hebrew; Praised
Part 10
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The purple cloud hovered above the green wreckage that had once been the Midori. The particles swayed up and down in the air, smaller parts of a larger whole, seemingly inspecting the ship, confirming its obliteration.
The dirt settled onto the ground once again, having been flung into the air from the collision of the purple weapon. All was silent at the crash site.
Seemingly, their mission was a success.
A hum was heard, and the particles of the cloud separated suddenly in all directions as each speck went to examine the wreckage. Some entered holes of metal; others surrounded the bodies of the Seroan officers confirming their status.
Their job was simple, but sensitive. They would not return to the source until their mission was successfully completed. A detailed inventory was necessary.
The once serene landscape was now a compost of debris, the dirt littered with metal and wiring and bodies … and pieces of bodies.
One plum dot hung above a lone forearm in the dirt, red blood oozing from the open wound located at the elbow. After reading the limbs condition, the small ‘soldier’ went about searching for the body the appendage had come from.
Several others purple dots entered sections of the ship, panels of metal lining the brown dirt. Wires and tubing hung from the once intact ship, and each dot read the latent, deceased status of the Midori.
The specks of cloud were disbursed until each piece of the wreckage had been covered. The remaining unneeded cloud lingered in the air, waiting for the return of their counterparts.
One speck hung above a body that was partially covered by a metal panel. He lay face down in the dirt, his legs covered by the panel.
Suddenly the man groaned in pain, his breath causing a stir of dust.
The purple dot reacted violently. An energy pulse was emitted, blue veins shooting through the small fleck of plum. The pulse shot through the Seroan guard, and soon his heartbeat ceased, the violent attack of the energy ending his life.
The purple speck read his lifeless condition, and quaintly retreated to its source.
As each lavender particle became satisfied, one by one they returned to the whole.
The purple cloud grew bigger in size and strength as the smaller pieces formed the larger weapon.
The particles grew closer together, merging and binding together for their journey across the galaxy. Soon no one particle could be seen, and the collective purple cloud shot through the sky toward the planet and master that had sent them.
Surely she would be pleased with their success.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“What just happened?” Michael whispered harshly, suddenly out of breath from the tumultuous ordeal.
He couldn’t have seen what his eyes were telling him he saw. He was going crazy. It was the adrenaline that had been running through his veins. It was the fact that he hadn’t slept in forty-eight hours. Or eaten in nearly that long. It was the stress of the situation, and his eyes were playing tricks on him.
That had to be it.
He slowly loosened his death-like grip on his armrest of the co-pilot seat. His ramrod back eventually softened slightly in posture, as he slowly allowed himself to believe that they were safe. Michael’s chest heaved as he took in much-needed oxygen. White streaks of stars flew past the window of the cabin as the autopilot guided the Rumigan through space on its course to Cantu.
Michael turned to his left slowly, and saw Alex react much the same.
He was shaking his head in disbelief.
“I don’t know,” Alex said as he licked his dry lips, and ran a shaky hand through his brown hair. “What was that?”
Their eyes met at the question, but neither had an answer.
Michael brought his hands up to rub his eyes, and said, “I thought for sure we were dead.”
Alex nodded absently.
Movement from the surveillance scanner in front of them cut off their discussion. The computer gave them an up-to-date report of the ships condition.
“That can’t be right,” Michael said skeptically.
Alex leaned forward in his seat with his elbows on his knees, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He reached for the control panel, and pushed several buttons instructing the Rumigan computer to compose a more detailed analysis of the ship.
The image of the scanner broke slightly as the new breakdown of the ship’s status was presented.
“What the hell,” Michael argued. “We took a direct hit. That can’t be right.”
Alex stayed silent and shook his head in amazement.
So much of this mission had already been unbelievable and implausible.
Khivar had attacked the sacred Festival killing the Kind and Queen. Maxwell and Isabel had successfully escaped his clutches. So far they had effectively eluded Khivar, because as of that moment, the Rumigan was soaring through space toward their destination at several hundred miles an hour faster than the ship was physically capable. The Rumigan computer, stating that their ship was in perfect condition, even though he was certain they had taken a direct hit just minutes previous from the Midori, was reporting no damage. The Seroan ship had obviously been destroyed from the purple anomaly that had just passed them in space.
Alex had to shake his head to clear the confusion-induced fog. And he had thought his life as an underground protector had been mysterious…
“Apparently, our ship is at 100%.” Alex turned to look at Michael, who had the same disbelieving, but nonetheless grateful, look on his face. “I guess … maybe we should take what we can get. I’m not going to argue.”
“Yeah,” Michael said as he continued to stare at the hologram of the status report. Not possible, he thought silently. It’s just not possible.
His vision began to blur from an unexpected bout of claustrophobia. He absolutely had to get away from the cabin as quickly as possible.
Michael moved to unbuckle from his seat, “I’m … um, I’m going to go check on the … on them. So … yeah.” He managed to get out his destination despite nervously stumbling over his words. He motioned with his hand towards the rear of the ship, and then departed the cabin.
His heart was still racing, and he attempted rather unsuccessfully to quiet it. His shoulders were still stiff with emotion and confusion and a lingering state of anticipation. It was as if his mind just couldn’t accept the fact that they had gotten away that easily.
Not easily, he thought. That successfully.
The Midori had been destroyed.
By a purple cloud.
Not possible.
The disbelieving thoughts echoed like a mantra in his clouded mind.
He waited for his vision to clear, his thoughts to slow, his disbelief to taper. He bent at the waist, supporting his weight with his hands on his knees, and took several deep breaths.
It didn’t help much.
He straightened, and reached up with his left hand to scratch the back of his head, a nervous habit since his childhood. His hazel eyes were downcast, staring blindly at his feet as he took one step after another.
Michael silently traveled down the corridor leading to the cargo bay where he expected to find Max and Kyle, and the rest of the survivors. The corridor was dim where he walked. The lights were still on ahead of him, but he couldn’t see anybody.
He briefly wondered if anyone had been hurt from the impact of movement of the ship. Alex’s driving, while incredibly useful, had been somewhat nauseating. It was quite possible that someone may have been hurt in their escape.
He entered the cargo bay slowly, letting his eyes adjust to the bright lights above him. He ducked his head at the entrance, stepping through the door-less entry.
He let his eyes scan the room, and gratefully took in the health of everyone inside.
It seemed as though everyone was uninjured. Rylie was dispersing water to the occupants. Koen, Bo, and Kyle were talking candidly about their escape, Kyle animatedly describing what he had seen. Mabyn was standing next to Kyle, clutching his pants tightly. Isabel stood close to her, softly stroking her hair as she drank water from the canister in her hand.
Max. Where’s Max? Michael thought.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The Antarian field that held the wreckage of the Midori was a maze of metal, wire, and bodies. The suns of the system beat down in their midday assault. Small ground animals scurried about finally emerging from their hiding places, sensing the previous commotion was over.
A green and brown lizard crawled several steps, nearing a large panel of silver-green metal. His long tongue darted out, capturing a fly from a small plant.
Suddenly the panel moved, and the lizard fearfully darted away.
A hand materialized from the shadows beneath the metal board. A forearm, an elbow, bicep, and then a shoulder.
The arm struggled to move the panel, and after several seconds it slid and a haggard, near-death face could be seen.
Larek.
He coughed violently, and his fatigued, coarse voice called out, “Brody?”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It’s official. I am insane.
Max gave himself a sardonic snort, shook his head, and squeezed his arms tighter around his legs. He was huddled in the far corner of the cargo bay, secluded from the group behind several large crates. He had withdrawn shortly after Koen had deemed it safe, after they broke Antar’s atmosphere and set their course to Cantu.
Isabel had been quick to seek out Kyle, delivering a very scared Mabyn to her hero. But at the same time, he noticed how Isabel was careful to never let the small girl out of her sight. He supposed it was more for her own piece of mind than for Mabyn’s, but the little girl did nothing to inhibit Isabel’s affection. If nothing else, she reveled in it. Both of them did.
But Max took this in with cloudy vision, and a heavy conscience.
Those men were dead … because of him. They had been there to protect him, guard him. They had never asked for that job or position. They hadn’t masked their fear of the task either. Max had seen the worried looks they shared with each other. His heart mirrored them. And now his heart was breaking for them.
He wanted to cry, but he didn’t have any more tears to shed.
He wanted to curse, but his voice was broken in his leaden chest.
He wanted to die …
He didn’t want to think about death ever again, but there it was, thrown in his face. The Festival and his parents, the men from the cave lying broken in the dirt, the blood and carnage … even the Midori. Death was everywhere. He had to forcibly remind himself that it was war. It was expected to suffer casualties in times like this.
For so long, his entire life, he had been sheltered, protected, privileged from the atrocities of life.
He wished he could go back. His chest constricted, as his arms tightened around his up-drawn legs. Everything was so wrong, so empty, so bleak.
And he had thought his life before the Festival was depressing. This was a wake-up call he wanted to give back.
He wanted to awaken from his nightmare. He wanted to open his eyes, shake the sleep from his mind, and give his mother a good morning kiss on her porcelain cheek. He wanted to find that it had all been a dream. If he could only have a second chance…
That wasn’t so much to ask for, was it? Another try at life? He would be everything he had rejected – he would be the good son and Prince and brother and friend he had never been. He wanted that good life. If he could just start over, he would prove that he was good.
No, not just good … justified, respectable, worthy.
Honorable.
He could hear Koen, Bo, and Kyle talking in hushed but energetic voices. He knew, without seeing, that Isabel was still doting over Mabyn, and Rylie was certainly taking care of anyone who needed it. So far no one had noticed his self induced absence and seclusion, and thank God for that. He couldn’t take any sociality right now. He had too many things on his mind.
Taking priority was that voice …
She wouldn’t stop talking. At first he had tried to ignore it, figuring it was just a figment of his imagination, perhaps his mother’s voice conjured up in his frayed psyche. He wanted to hear her voice again, so he did.
But it was more than that.
This voice, this … impression that he carried in his mind somehow soothed him. How or why, he didn’t know. If nothing else, he should be scared out of his mind.
Like he had said before, he was insane. Certifiable. Which wasn’t a shock considering all that he had been through, all that he had lost.
But for some reason, he had stopped pushing the voice away, and had listened.
In the cave, when he had first listened to her voice … it had disturbed him. She had spoken of his secrets that he had held tightly in his heart, locking it deep inside him. Things that he had never told anyone. Not his mother, or his father, or Isabel … not even Michael. No one knew.
But she did.
He didn’t know how it was possible. And soon after, he stopped caring. The fact that someone knew him – knew his heart and still cared for him – was a miracle that he had never dared wish for. But there it was, or rather, there she was, in his mind offering solace. And after everything that had happened to him and the people he loved in the past forty-eight hours, he was helpless to reject it.
Perhaps that had been the reason he had rejected his prior life with such gusto and passion and grit. He rejected his family, his friends, his intentions, his priorities, his obligations … and for the longest time he assumed it was because he didn’t want them. But now he knew better. Now that he had lost everything, it was all so clear. What is it they say about hindsight always being 20/20?
That was him now. Everything was so clear. Painfully so.
He had had the world. He once had everything in his grasp, and like a fool he had let it slip away.
Max thought of his mother, Diane, that had loved him despite his tendencies of stubbornness and stupidity. She had loved him wholeheartedly, and had proved it several times over. She never wavered, never delayed or hesitated. And she had asked so little of him. He was … had been … her first born. A son that she had wanted to continue the family lineage on the throne.
But it was because of her love that he had resented her. He let a broken sob escape his throat at the realization. He had hated her. But his reasoning was so pitifully inadequate and remorseful and … embarrassing.
He didn’t want her love, because he had thought he didn’t deserve it.
No, he had known he didn’t deserve it. He was a sorry excuse for a son or a brother or a Prince. He was never good enough. Never worthy enough. She had been too good for him, and he had thrown her unconditional love back in her face.
He had done the same with everyone in his life. Michael, Isabel, his father. He had kept them all at arms length.
And where had it gotten him? Look at where he was now. His tear-filled eyes took in his surroundings: a cold, metal floor lined with years of dirt and filth. Heavy cargo crates filled with supplies that would sustain the survivors until they reached Cantu. A musty, stale smell hung in the air from months, maybe years, of the Rumigan lying dormant at the hangar. Here he was, Maxwell – crowned Prince of Antar – lying in his own self-pity.
It had appeared he hadn’t changed much. He was still a sorry excuse for a man. Now that he realized what he had done, he was wallowing in his shame, unmoving.
And then he heard the voice again. It was like a calming conscience in his weary brain, soothing him. Suddenly he no longer felt his humiliation, he felt a peace … deep in his very soul. All because of this voice, that for all he knew, he had created for his own selfish benefit.
He let out a deep, somnolent sigh, willing the voice to be right; that what she said to him was really true. He wanted to believe so badly.
Max lifted his head startled when the overhead lighting hit his eyes, as Michael shifted a crate to expose Max to the survivors.
“Jesus Maxwell, what the hell happened to you?”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
He managed to extract himself from the large metal panel. His chest heaved painfully from the impact and explosion of the Midori. He didn’t know how he had survived. He didn’t care. He had a mission, and it certainly wasn’t over yet.
“Brody?” he called out again, worried that he had lost his brother. No response came, except for the silence of the nature.
He stood unsteadily, leaning on his knees as a bout of nausea hit him. He vomited at his feet.
Larek fell to his knees roughly. His lungs burned from the fires and smoke that billowed from parts of their ship that was scattered around him.
His skin broke out in a fatigued sweat, his skin going deathly white. If he wasn’t mistaken, he was quite near death. Close to joining his brother, he assumed.
“Brody?” His plea for his brother was louder, more acute, more desperate.
A rattle was heard to his right, and he turned as quickly as his shaky body allowed, and crawled to the source of the noise.
His pushed several cumbersome objects out of his way, slowly nearing a green door leaning slightly to the right.
A large shadow was cast underneath it, and Larek struggled to move the door even an inch. His weakened condition didn’t grant him with any strength to speak of.
Larek bent low, his mouth near the ground, and spoke, “Hello? Is anyone there?” He was out of breath quickly, because of the physical ordeal. Or perhaps it was the anticipation of finding another survivor. Either way his blood was boiling.
Finally, summoning his last piece of strength, the door lifted several inches from the brown dirt.
The suns’ light shown brightly in the eyes of the second survivor.
A harsh whisper was heard.
“Larek?”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Max could feel eyes on his back. They were all watching him, curious as to why he had hidden from them in the cargo bay, and then had dismissed their alarm. The last several hours of travel had left them to idol conversation, offering plenty of time for prodding questions that Max simply didn’t have the strength to answer.
What was he supposed to say? That he was a new man now, but at the expense of what, and whom? That he had been reliving the last twenty years of his life with new eyes, and was utterly devastated at his foolishness? That he wanted to give his life to save his mother and father, Mabyn’s parents, countless other casualties, those two men that had died for him – men whose names he hadn’t even had the nerve to learn?
That he wasn’t worthy of their loyalty, or the crown or throne … if they were ever successful in defeating Khivar and reclaiming Antar in the first place?
No, he would leave it alone. He would stand there in his place, waiting for Alex and Michael to deem their landing on Cantu safe. He would continue in his Destiny – whatever it may be – and never question or battle his Fate. Max would be the good man that he should have been all along, and everyone who was curiously gazing at him would soon forget and forgive his reckless and peculiar behavior.
They all felt the Rumigan roughly settle in the sand, on the dune planet of Cantu. They could hear Michael’s brusque voice, and Alex’s quiet replies, as the two men made their way down the corridor to the cargo bay.
Isabel turned, keeping one worried eye on her brother, toward Michael. She wanted to get out of the ship as soon as possible. She wanted to take a deep breathe of clean, fresh, desert air. The old air in the Rumigan was wreaking havoc on her resolve, and she desperately didn’t want to loose it in front of Mabyn.
“We’re here,” Michael said softly. He didn’t quite meet anyone’s eye, still unsettled by the events that had led them here in the first place.
Rylie began passing out blankets, to guard everyone from the harsh suns and desert heat. None would be prepared for it, and any shield they could put up against the harsh temperatures would be a blessing.
Mabyn clung tightly to Isabel and Kyle, each on her sides. She didn’t want to let Kyle out of her sight, but she didn’t want to let go of Isabel either. Kyle had held her for a long time, telling her stories of Antar and the palace and playing with Michael and Max. Isabel had stroked her hair as she had fallen asleep in Kyle’s arms. She missed the soft, candid conversation between the two older individuals.
Koen and Bo stood together waiting for their orders from Michael, laser guns in hand.
“Stay close together,” Michael said. “Right now, we’re in a hangar at a closed port. If Khivar sends any men to Cantu, they shouldn’t find our ship. We’ll head for the village to our east. Hopefully we can get some supplies, meet up with any allies that might be stationed here.” He scanned the weary group who he could guess was half-listening to him at best. “Ready?”
He took the mumbled reply as a ‘yes,’ and pushed the release for the gate above his head. Slowly, the heavy door lowered, and as the pressure lock broke, the heat of the desert hit them nearly stealing their breath from their lungs.
Michael squinted his eyes, waiting for them to adjust to the intense light.
Slowly he made his way down the gate, and soon his boots hit the heavy, Cantu sand. He had only been to Cantu once, several years ago, and the sight of the pure golden sand, and clear blue sky moved something in him. He wasn’t sure what, but he knew that this desolate planet held something new for them. Surely he hadn’t been wrong in choosing Cantu. Khivar would never look for them here … he hoped. And even if he did, there was a very good chance that they would not be found. Cantu might not be big, but it was certainly advantageous, offering a sentiment of anonymity.
He turned to the gate, waiting and watching as the survivors hesitantly left the small ship.
They were all so tired, achy, bleary-eyed. They mindlessly followed Michael from the hangar, across the duned desert. Rylie was second, right after Michael. Bo and Koen followed close behind her, scanning the horizon for anything oppressive. Max walked with a somber, but nonetheless obeisant, tone and timbre. Isabel, Mabyn, and Kyle brought up the rear.
They could see the village ahead, its image wavering in the horizon like a mirage. The heat kicked up off the sand, sending heat waves through the air. The searing oxygen burned their lungs with each breath they took.
After several minutes of trudging through the desert, Mabyn tired considerably, and silently requested to be held, raising her arms. She had first thought to ask Kyle, but he had the gun in his hand and a bag across his shoulder. There wasn’t any room for her.
She then turned to Isabel, and with a smile the older woman embraced her, rubbing soothingly on her back. Mabyn snuggled into Isabel as far as she could, closing her eyes under the blanket.
“She alright?” Kyle asked with a low voice, his eyes still scanning the horizon for any activity.
“I think so. She’s just tired and cranky.”
Kyle nodded his head, and tried unsuccessfully to hide the smile on his face and the chuckle under his breath.
“What?” Isabel asked.
Kyle shook his head, avoiding answering the question.
“What?” Isabel asked again, completely interested in knowing why Kyle was grinning like a fool. Not that being a fool was ever out of character for him.
“Nothing, it’s just …” he ventured a look and Isabel. “Tired and cranky … that reminds me of you at that age.”
Isabel’s blank look reluctantly turned humorous, a small smile forcing its way onto her face despite her protests. “Funny guy.”
He shrugged. “I try.”
He continued to quietly chuckle.
“It’s not funny,” Isabel persisted, releasing her full-blown smile adorn her beautiful features.
She shook her head as he continued to laugh to himself, reveling in the companionable banter. Seeing that she wasn’t mad, he good-heartedly nudged her shoulder with his.
It wasn’t long before they reached the small village.
“Michael,” Isabel said. She waited for him to glance back at her. “What village is this?”
“Zamora.”
The name meant little to the survivors as they neared the village. It had just been a question, idol conversation to end the silence.
That conversation died abruptly when they entered the gates of Zamora.
“What the …”
Kyle’s question was cut short, when they caught sight of the village. Or what remained of it.
Everything was barren, and empty. Buildings and carts were shells and remnants of a once thriving community, tables were overturned, and doors were left open.
There was a deadly silence all around them.
The soft wind blew through the city, running through the buildings as if they were not there. Tablecloths on display carts hung in the breeze, faded from the sun and weather.
Michael brought the group to a halt halfway through the city. They turned in every direction, searching for any sign of life. Anything that would indicate that the planet they had retreated to was not a wasteland. Certainly they had not given up one for another.
“Koen? Bo?” Michael asked uncertainly to the two active soldiers. They were privy to the combat knowledge that Michael had always listened to with half-interest. How he was kicking himself now.
They both shook their head.
“I dunno,” Koen answered.
“I thought Cantu was in the peace agreement,” Bo said as he turned to inspect the dormant city.
“What do you mean?” Michael asked. Max listened with keen interest from behind Kyle.
“Khivar and King Philip, at the council meeting, made that formal agreement … which apparently meant nothing but shit, pardon my language.” His voice rose as he reported his knowledge of the events that had lead up to their predicament. He had only overheard the two dirty politicians talking in a corridor one day. Now, he tried to recall everything he had heard.
“Yeah?” Michael prodded.
“One of the conditions to peace was that Khivar obtain control over Cantu. Why he wanted it, I don’t know. Turns out there were a lot of thing we didn’t know about the bastard. But the agreement was made, and Cantu’s immediate care was signed over to Khivar by King Philip, may he rest in peace,” he added under his breath.
Michael shook his head from disbelief and confusion. “So what did the dictating knave do, eliminate every living soul on the planet?”
No one had an answer.
“HELLO!” Kyle bellowed with his hands cupped around his mouth; his voice echoed off the clay buildings. Everyone jumped at the intrusion.
“Kyle! Shut. Up,” Michael ordered.
“What?” he retorted. “There’s no one here. It’s a fucking wasteland!” he said loudly, letting the silence break with his booming, comical voice.
“Kyle, please,” Isabel said softly. Mabyn shifted under the blanket.
“Oh come on. Look around you. We are completely alone here. If there was someone here, we would have seen them by now. It’s kind of funny if you think about it,” he said, turning from Isabel to Michael. “Our fearless leader here delivered us from a battle field to a fuckin’ desert.”
His sardonic laugh amused no one.
Least of all the two guards located just behind them, edging closer with every second.
Part 10
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The purple cloud hovered above the green wreckage that had once been the Midori. The particles swayed up and down in the air, smaller parts of a larger whole, seemingly inspecting the ship, confirming its obliteration.
The dirt settled onto the ground once again, having been flung into the air from the collision of the purple weapon. All was silent at the crash site.
Seemingly, their mission was a success.
A hum was heard, and the particles of the cloud separated suddenly in all directions as each speck went to examine the wreckage. Some entered holes of metal; others surrounded the bodies of the Seroan officers confirming their status.
Their job was simple, but sensitive. They would not return to the source until their mission was successfully completed. A detailed inventory was necessary.
The once serene landscape was now a compost of debris, the dirt littered with metal and wiring and bodies … and pieces of bodies.
One plum dot hung above a lone forearm in the dirt, red blood oozing from the open wound located at the elbow. After reading the limbs condition, the small ‘soldier’ went about searching for the body the appendage had come from.
Several others purple dots entered sections of the ship, panels of metal lining the brown dirt. Wires and tubing hung from the once intact ship, and each dot read the latent, deceased status of the Midori.
The specks of cloud were disbursed until each piece of the wreckage had been covered. The remaining unneeded cloud lingered in the air, waiting for the return of their counterparts.
One speck hung above a body that was partially covered by a metal panel. He lay face down in the dirt, his legs covered by the panel.
Suddenly the man groaned in pain, his breath causing a stir of dust.
The purple dot reacted violently. An energy pulse was emitted, blue veins shooting through the small fleck of plum. The pulse shot through the Seroan guard, and soon his heartbeat ceased, the violent attack of the energy ending his life.
The purple speck read his lifeless condition, and quaintly retreated to its source.
As each lavender particle became satisfied, one by one they returned to the whole.
The purple cloud grew bigger in size and strength as the smaller pieces formed the larger weapon.
The particles grew closer together, merging and binding together for their journey across the galaxy. Soon no one particle could be seen, and the collective purple cloud shot through the sky toward the planet and master that had sent them.
Surely she would be pleased with their success.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“What just happened?” Michael whispered harshly, suddenly out of breath from the tumultuous ordeal.
He couldn’t have seen what his eyes were telling him he saw. He was going crazy. It was the adrenaline that had been running through his veins. It was the fact that he hadn’t slept in forty-eight hours. Or eaten in nearly that long. It was the stress of the situation, and his eyes were playing tricks on him.
That had to be it.
He slowly loosened his death-like grip on his armrest of the co-pilot seat. His ramrod back eventually softened slightly in posture, as he slowly allowed himself to believe that they were safe. Michael’s chest heaved as he took in much-needed oxygen. White streaks of stars flew past the window of the cabin as the autopilot guided the Rumigan through space on its course to Cantu.
Michael turned to his left slowly, and saw Alex react much the same.
He was shaking his head in disbelief.
“I don’t know,” Alex said as he licked his dry lips, and ran a shaky hand through his brown hair. “What was that?”
Their eyes met at the question, but neither had an answer.
Michael brought his hands up to rub his eyes, and said, “I thought for sure we were dead.”
Alex nodded absently.
Movement from the surveillance scanner in front of them cut off their discussion. The computer gave them an up-to-date report of the ships condition.
“That can’t be right,” Michael said skeptically.
Alex leaned forward in his seat with his elbows on his knees, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He reached for the control panel, and pushed several buttons instructing the Rumigan computer to compose a more detailed analysis of the ship.
The image of the scanner broke slightly as the new breakdown of the ship’s status was presented.
“What the hell,” Michael argued. “We took a direct hit. That can’t be right.”
Alex stayed silent and shook his head in amazement.
So much of this mission had already been unbelievable and implausible.
Khivar had attacked the sacred Festival killing the Kind and Queen. Maxwell and Isabel had successfully escaped his clutches. So far they had effectively eluded Khivar, because as of that moment, the Rumigan was soaring through space toward their destination at several hundred miles an hour faster than the ship was physically capable. The Rumigan computer, stating that their ship was in perfect condition, even though he was certain they had taken a direct hit just minutes previous from the Midori, was reporting no damage. The Seroan ship had obviously been destroyed from the purple anomaly that had just passed them in space.
Alex had to shake his head to clear the confusion-induced fog. And he had thought his life as an underground protector had been mysterious…
“Apparently, our ship is at 100%.” Alex turned to look at Michael, who had the same disbelieving, but nonetheless grateful, look on his face. “I guess … maybe we should take what we can get. I’m not going to argue.”
“Yeah,” Michael said as he continued to stare at the hologram of the status report. Not possible, he thought silently. It’s just not possible.
His vision began to blur from an unexpected bout of claustrophobia. He absolutely had to get away from the cabin as quickly as possible.
Michael moved to unbuckle from his seat, “I’m … um, I’m going to go check on the … on them. So … yeah.” He managed to get out his destination despite nervously stumbling over his words. He motioned with his hand towards the rear of the ship, and then departed the cabin.
His heart was still racing, and he attempted rather unsuccessfully to quiet it. His shoulders were still stiff with emotion and confusion and a lingering state of anticipation. It was as if his mind just couldn’t accept the fact that they had gotten away that easily.
Not easily, he thought. That successfully.
The Midori had been destroyed.
By a purple cloud.
Not possible.
The disbelieving thoughts echoed like a mantra in his clouded mind.
He waited for his vision to clear, his thoughts to slow, his disbelief to taper. He bent at the waist, supporting his weight with his hands on his knees, and took several deep breaths.
It didn’t help much.
He straightened, and reached up with his left hand to scratch the back of his head, a nervous habit since his childhood. His hazel eyes were downcast, staring blindly at his feet as he took one step after another.
Michael silently traveled down the corridor leading to the cargo bay where he expected to find Max and Kyle, and the rest of the survivors. The corridor was dim where he walked. The lights were still on ahead of him, but he couldn’t see anybody.
He briefly wondered if anyone had been hurt from the impact of movement of the ship. Alex’s driving, while incredibly useful, had been somewhat nauseating. It was quite possible that someone may have been hurt in their escape.
He entered the cargo bay slowly, letting his eyes adjust to the bright lights above him. He ducked his head at the entrance, stepping through the door-less entry.
He let his eyes scan the room, and gratefully took in the health of everyone inside.
It seemed as though everyone was uninjured. Rylie was dispersing water to the occupants. Koen, Bo, and Kyle were talking candidly about their escape, Kyle animatedly describing what he had seen. Mabyn was standing next to Kyle, clutching his pants tightly. Isabel stood close to her, softly stroking her hair as she drank water from the canister in her hand.
Max. Where’s Max? Michael thought.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The Antarian field that held the wreckage of the Midori was a maze of metal, wire, and bodies. The suns of the system beat down in their midday assault. Small ground animals scurried about finally emerging from their hiding places, sensing the previous commotion was over.
A green and brown lizard crawled several steps, nearing a large panel of silver-green metal. His long tongue darted out, capturing a fly from a small plant.
Suddenly the panel moved, and the lizard fearfully darted away.
A hand materialized from the shadows beneath the metal board. A forearm, an elbow, bicep, and then a shoulder.
The arm struggled to move the panel, and after several seconds it slid and a haggard, near-death face could be seen.
Larek.
He coughed violently, and his fatigued, coarse voice called out, “Brody?”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It’s official. I am insane.
Max gave himself a sardonic snort, shook his head, and squeezed his arms tighter around his legs. He was huddled in the far corner of the cargo bay, secluded from the group behind several large crates. He had withdrawn shortly after Koen had deemed it safe, after they broke Antar’s atmosphere and set their course to Cantu.
Isabel had been quick to seek out Kyle, delivering a very scared Mabyn to her hero. But at the same time, he noticed how Isabel was careful to never let the small girl out of her sight. He supposed it was more for her own piece of mind than for Mabyn’s, but the little girl did nothing to inhibit Isabel’s affection. If nothing else, she reveled in it. Both of them did.
But Max took this in with cloudy vision, and a heavy conscience.
Those men were dead … because of him. They had been there to protect him, guard him. They had never asked for that job or position. They hadn’t masked their fear of the task either. Max had seen the worried looks they shared with each other. His heart mirrored them. And now his heart was breaking for them.
He wanted to cry, but he didn’t have any more tears to shed.
He wanted to curse, but his voice was broken in his leaden chest.
He wanted to die …
He didn’t want to think about death ever again, but there it was, thrown in his face. The Festival and his parents, the men from the cave lying broken in the dirt, the blood and carnage … even the Midori. Death was everywhere. He had to forcibly remind himself that it was war. It was expected to suffer casualties in times like this.
For so long, his entire life, he had been sheltered, protected, privileged from the atrocities of life.
He wished he could go back. His chest constricted, as his arms tightened around his up-drawn legs. Everything was so wrong, so empty, so bleak.
And he had thought his life before the Festival was depressing. This was a wake-up call he wanted to give back.
He wanted to awaken from his nightmare. He wanted to open his eyes, shake the sleep from his mind, and give his mother a good morning kiss on her porcelain cheek. He wanted to find that it had all been a dream. If he could only have a second chance…
That wasn’t so much to ask for, was it? Another try at life? He would be everything he had rejected – he would be the good son and Prince and brother and friend he had never been. He wanted that good life. If he could just start over, he would prove that he was good.
No, not just good … justified, respectable, worthy.
Honorable.
He could hear Koen, Bo, and Kyle talking in hushed but energetic voices. He knew, without seeing, that Isabel was still doting over Mabyn, and Rylie was certainly taking care of anyone who needed it. So far no one had noticed his self induced absence and seclusion, and thank God for that. He couldn’t take any sociality right now. He had too many things on his mind.
Taking priority was that voice …
She wouldn’t stop talking. At first he had tried to ignore it, figuring it was just a figment of his imagination, perhaps his mother’s voice conjured up in his frayed psyche. He wanted to hear her voice again, so he did.
But it was more than that.
This voice, this … impression that he carried in his mind somehow soothed him. How or why, he didn’t know. If nothing else, he should be scared out of his mind.
Like he had said before, he was insane. Certifiable. Which wasn’t a shock considering all that he had been through, all that he had lost.
But for some reason, he had stopped pushing the voice away, and had listened.
In the cave, when he had first listened to her voice … it had disturbed him. She had spoken of his secrets that he had held tightly in his heart, locking it deep inside him. Things that he had never told anyone. Not his mother, or his father, or Isabel … not even Michael. No one knew.
But she did.
He didn’t know how it was possible. And soon after, he stopped caring. The fact that someone knew him – knew his heart and still cared for him – was a miracle that he had never dared wish for. But there it was, or rather, there she was, in his mind offering solace. And after everything that had happened to him and the people he loved in the past forty-eight hours, he was helpless to reject it.
Perhaps that had been the reason he had rejected his prior life with such gusto and passion and grit. He rejected his family, his friends, his intentions, his priorities, his obligations … and for the longest time he assumed it was because he didn’t want them. But now he knew better. Now that he had lost everything, it was all so clear. What is it they say about hindsight always being 20/20?
That was him now. Everything was so clear. Painfully so.
He had had the world. He once had everything in his grasp, and like a fool he had let it slip away.
Max thought of his mother, Diane, that had loved him despite his tendencies of stubbornness and stupidity. She had loved him wholeheartedly, and had proved it several times over. She never wavered, never delayed or hesitated. And she had asked so little of him. He was … had been … her first born. A son that she had wanted to continue the family lineage on the throne.
But it was because of her love that he had resented her. He let a broken sob escape his throat at the realization. He had hated her. But his reasoning was so pitifully inadequate and remorseful and … embarrassing.
He didn’t want her love, because he had thought he didn’t deserve it.
No, he had known he didn’t deserve it. He was a sorry excuse for a son or a brother or a Prince. He was never good enough. Never worthy enough. She had been too good for him, and he had thrown her unconditional love back in her face.
He had done the same with everyone in his life. Michael, Isabel, his father. He had kept them all at arms length.
And where had it gotten him? Look at where he was now. His tear-filled eyes took in his surroundings: a cold, metal floor lined with years of dirt and filth. Heavy cargo crates filled with supplies that would sustain the survivors until they reached Cantu. A musty, stale smell hung in the air from months, maybe years, of the Rumigan lying dormant at the hangar. Here he was, Maxwell – crowned Prince of Antar – lying in his own self-pity.
It had appeared he hadn’t changed much. He was still a sorry excuse for a man. Now that he realized what he had done, he was wallowing in his shame, unmoving.
And then he heard the voice again. It was like a calming conscience in his weary brain, soothing him. Suddenly he no longer felt his humiliation, he felt a peace … deep in his very soul. All because of this voice, that for all he knew, he had created for his own selfish benefit.
He let out a deep, somnolent sigh, willing the voice to be right; that what she said to him was really true. He wanted to believe so badly.
Max lifted his head startled when the overhead lighting hit his eyes, as Michael shifted a crate to expose Max to the survivors.
“Jesus Maxwell, what the hell happened to you?”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
He managed to extract himself from the large metal panel. His chest heaved painfully from the impact and explosion of the Midori. He didn’t know how he had survived. He didn’t care. He had a mission, and it certainly wasn’t over yet.
“Brody?” he called out again, worried that he had lost his brother. No response came, except for the silence of the nature.
He stood unsteadily, leaning on his knees as a bout of nausea hit him. He vomited at his feet.
Larek fell to his knees roughly. His lungs burned from the fires and smoke that billowed from parts of their ship that was scattered around him.
His skin broke out in a fatigued sweat, his skin going deathly white. If he wasn’t mistaken, he was quite near death. Close to joining his brother, he assumed.
“Brody?” His plea for his brother was louder, more acute, more desperate.
A rattle was heard to his right, and he turned as quickly as his shaky body allowed, and crawled to the source of the noise.
His pushed several cumbersome objects out of his way, slowly nearing a green door leaning slightly to the right.
A large shadow was cast underneath it, and Larek struggled to move the door even an inch. His weakened condition didn’t grant him with any strength to speak of.
Larek bent low, his mouth near the ground, and spoke, “Hello? Is anyone there?” He was out of breath quickly, because of the physical ordeal. Or perhaps it was the anticipation of finding another survivor. Either way his blood was boiling.
Finally, summoning his last piece of strength, the door lifted several inches from the brown dirt.
The suns’ light shown brightly in the eyes of the second survivor.
A harsh whisper was heard.
“Larek?”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Max could feel eyes on his back. They were all watching him, curious as to why he had hidden from them in the cargo bay, and then had dismissed their alarm. The last several hours of travel had left them to idol conversation, offering plenty of time for prodding questions that Max simply didn’t have the strength to answer.
What was he supposed to say? That he was a new man now, but at the expense of what, and whom? That he had been reliving the last twenty years of his life with new eyes, and was utterly devastated at his foolishness? That he wanted to give his life to save his mother and father, Mabyn’s parents, countless other casualties, those two men that had died for him – men whose names he hadn’t even had the nerve to learn?
That he wasn’t worthy of their loyalty, or the crown or throne … if they were ever successful in defeating Khivar and reclaiming Antar in the first place?
No, he would leave it alone. He would stand there in his place, waiting for Alex and Michael to deem their landing on Cantu safe. He would continue in his Destiny – whatever it may be – and never question or battle his Fate. Max would be the good man that he should have been all along, and everyone who was curiously gazing at him would soon forget and forgive his reckless and peculiar behavior.
They all felt the Rumigan roughly settle in the sand, on the dune planet of Cantu. They could hear Michael’s brusque voice, and Alex’s quiet replies, as the two men made their way down the corridor to the cargo bay.
Isabel turned, keeping one worried eye on her brother, toward Michael. She wanted to get out of the ship as soon as possible. She wanted to take a deep breathe of clean, fresh, desert air. The old air in the Rumigan was wreaking havoc on her resolve, and she desperately didn’t want to loose it in front of Mabyn.
“We’re here,” Michael said softly. He didn’t quite meet anyone’s eye, still unsettled by the events that had led them here in the first place.
Rylie began passing out blankets, to guard everyone from the harsh suns and desert heat. None would be prepared for it, and any shield they could put up against the harsh temperatures would be a blessing.
Mabyn clung tightly to Isabel and Kyle, each on her sides. She didn’t want to let Kyle out of her sight, but she didn’t want to let go of Isabel either. Kyle had held her for a long time, telling her stories of Antar and the palace and playing with Michael and Max. Isabel had stroked her hair as she had fallen asleep in Kyle’s arms. She missed the soft, candid conversation between the two older individuals.
Koen and Bo stood together waiting for their orders from Michael, laser guns in hand.
“Stay close together,” Michael said. “Right now, we’re in a hangar at a closed port. If Khivar sends any men to Cantu, they shouldn’t find our ship. We’ll head for the village to our east. Hopefully we can get some supplies, meet up with any allies that might be stationed here.” He scanned the weary group who he could guess was half-listening to him at best. “Ready?”
He took the mumbled reply as a ‘yes,’ and pushed the release for the gate above his head. Slowly, the heavy door lowered, and as the pressure lock broke, the heat of the desert hit them nearly stealing their breath from their lungs.
Michael squinted his eyes, waiting for them to adjust to the intense light.
Slowly he made his way down the gate, and soon his boots hit the heavy, Cantu sand. He had only been to Cantu once, several years ago, and the sight of the pure golden sand, and clear blue sky moved something in him. He wasn’t sure what, but he knew that this desolate planet held something new for them. Surely he hadn’t been wrong in choosing Cantu. Khivar would never look for them here … he hoped. And even if he did, there was a very good chance that they would not be found. Cantu might not be big, but it was certainly advantageous, offering a sentiment of anonymity.
He turned to the gate, waiting and watching as the survivors hesitantly left the small ship.
They were all so tired, achy, bleary-eyed. They mindlessly followed Michael from the hangar, across the duned desert. Rylie was second, right after Michael. Bo and Koen followed close behind her, scanning the horizon for anything oppressive. Max walked with a somber, but nonetheless obeisant, tone and timbre. Isabel, Mabyn, and Kyle brought up the rear.
They could see the village ahead, its image wavering in the horizon like a mirage. The heat kicked up off the sand, sending heat waves through the air. The searing oxygen burned their lungs with each breath they took.
After several minutes of trudging through the desert, Mabyn tired considerably, and silently requested to be held, raising her arms. She had first thought to ask Kyle, but he had the gun in his hand and a bag across his shoulder. There wasn’t any room for her.
She then turned to Isabel, and with a smile the older woman embraced her, rubbing soothingly on her back. Mabyn snuggled into Isabel as far as she could, closing her eyes under the blanket.
“She alright?” Kyle asked with a low voice, his eyes still scanning the horizon for any activity.
“I think so. She’s just tired and cranky.”
Kyle nodded his head, and tried unsuccessfully to hide the smile on his face and the chuckle under his breath.
“What?” Isabel asked.
Kyle shook his head, avoiding answering the question.
“What?” Isabel asked again, completely interested in knowing why Kyle was grinning like a fool. Not that being a fool was ever out of character for him.
“Nothing, it’s just …” he ventured a look and Isabel. “Tired and cranky … that reminds me of you at that age.”
Isabel’s blank look reluctantly turned humorous, a small smile forcing its way onto her face despite her protests. “Funny guy.”
He shrugged. “I try.”
He continued to quietly chuckle.
“It’s not funny,” Isabel persisted, releasing her full-blown smile adorn her beautiful features.
She shook her head as he continued to laugh to himself, reveling in the companionable banter. Seeing that she wasn’t mad, he good-heartedly nudged her shoulder with his.
It wasn’t long before they reached the small village.
“Michael,” Isabel said. She waited for him to glance back at her. “What village is this?”
“Zamora.”
The name meant little to the survivors as they neared the village. It had just been a question, idol conversation to end the silence.
That conversation died abruptly when they entered the gates of Zamora.
“What the …”
Kyle’s question was cut short, when they caught sight of the village. Or what remained of it.
Everything was barren, and empty. Buildings and carts were shells and remnants of a once thriving community, tables were overturned, and doors were left open.
There was a deadly silence all around them.
The soft wind blew through the city, running through the buildings as if they were not there. Tablecloths on display carts hung in the breeze, faded from the sun and weather.
Michael brought the group to a halt halfway through the city. They turned in every direction, searching for any sign of life. Anything that would indicate that the planet they had retreated to was not a wasteland. Certainly they had not given up one for another.
“Koen? Bo?” Michael asked uncertainly to the two active soldiers. They were privy to the combat knowledge that Michael had always listened to with half-interest. How he was kicking himself now.
They both shook their head.
“I dunno,” Koen answered.
“I thought Cantu was in the peace agreement,” Bo said as he turned to inspect the dormant city.
“What do you mean?” Michael asked. Max listened with keen interest from behind Kyle.
“Khivar and King Philip, at the council meeting, made that formal agreement … which apparently meant nothing but shit, pardon my language.” His voice rose as he reported his knowledge of the events that had lead up to their predicament. He had only overheard the two dirty politicians talking in a corridor one day. Now, he tried to recall everything he had heard.
“Yeah?” Michael prodded.
“One of the conditions to peace was that Khivar obtain control over Cantu. Why he wanted it, I don’t know. Turns out there were a lot of thing we didn’t know about the bastard. But the agreement was made, and Cantu’s immediate care was signed over to Khivar by King Philip, may he rest in peace,” he added under his breath.
Michael shook his head from disbelief and confusion. “So what did the dictating knave do, eliminate every living soul on the planet?”
No one had an answer.
“HELLO!” Kyle bellowed with his hands cupped around his mouth; his voice echoed off the clay buildings. Everyone jumped at the intrusion.
“Kyle! Shut. Up,” Michael ordered.
“What?” he retorted. “There’s no one here. It’s a fucking wasteland!” he said loudly, letting the silence break with his booming, comical voice.
“Kyle, please,” Isabel said softly. Mabyn shifted under the blanket.
“Oh come on. Look around you. We are completely alone here. If there was someone here, we would have seen them by now. It’s kind of funny if you think about it,” he said, turning from Isabel to Michael. “Our fearless leader here delivered us from a battle field to a fuckin’ desert.”
His sardonic laugh amused no one.
Least of all the two guards located just behind them, edging closer with every second.
God is a comedian playing to an audience too afraid to laugh.
~Voltaire
~Voltaire
-
truman11883
- Enthusiastic Roswellian
- Posts: 69
- Joined: Fri Apr 04, 2003 8:45 pm
- Location: St. Louis, Missouri, USA, Planet Earth
Courtney – French; From the Court
Part 11
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
If there was ever a time that Kyle wanted to take back everything he had said, now was definitely the time.
He struggled to open his eyes, disillusioned with the fog of confusion in his brain. What had happened? One moment he had been screaming at Michael, and then the next he was lying face down in the desert. His head hurt, and he could feel dried blood down his jaw and ear.
They were all on their knees, hands locked above their heads, eyeing the two guards that had taken them into captivity just moments ago. No one had seen them coming, all too preoccupied with Kyle’s belligerently defiant speech, and now he was eating his words … literally. The gag the one blonde woman had put in his mouth was anything but comfortable.
The two women were several feet away, talking candidly, but no one was able to hear a word. They were careful to keep their voices down.
There had been plenty of times in his past where the need to redo a certain moment in time had arisen, and most were because of something he had said or did. He had a serious impulse control problem. And that was putting it mildly.
What Kyle really wanted to do was go back five minutes in time and undo what he had just done. They had come so far. Cantu was supposed to be the place that they were to seek refuge, not be taken prisoner minutes after landing. Somehow, by the grace of … whoever … they had actually escaped Khivar’s men, and had landed on Cantu safely. The final part of their plan might have worked, too, if it hadn’t been for Kyle’s big mouth and attitude.
After lifting himself from the sand, leaning heavily on his left leg, Kyle turned slightly to his right, taking in Rylie, Bo, and Koen’s position. All three were every bit upset and sore towards him. Koen and Bo wouldn’t even look at him, even though he was certain they could feel his eyes on them. Rylie didn’t look at much of anything but the supplies just to her right.
He caught movement out of his right eye and followed it, seeing Alex behind him. He only met the man’s eyes briefly, and then Alex returned to his attempt at loosening the rope around his wrists.
Kyle turned straight, and could see Max just ahead of him. His posture was the same as all the others, sitting on his heels with his hands behind his head, tied with rope.
Michael was to Max’s right, and from what Kyle could tell, was trying to make out what the two women were saying.
Isabel was to Kyle’s left, with Mabyn close by. And that’s when he felt it. Oh God, he thought. Mabyn. He hadn’t had much of a chance to worry about her before through the haze of being knocked on the head and coming to in a cloud of confusion and pain, lying face down in the sand. He knew he had only been out for a few minutes. But in those minutes, he could see that Mabyn had been tied also. Her hands were bound but they were on her lap, not behind her head. She was crying silent tears, more out of fear than anything else, Kyle hoped anyway.
She huddled near Isabel, who was valiantly trying to smile at the child and speak softly to her, having not being gagged like him. He noted that none of the others were gagged, and rightfully so. No one else had been as stupid as he had, leading an enemy right to them.
Isabel turned then towards him. She cast a look in his direction, but it wasn’t anger or resentment. It was worse. Disappointment. She slowly shook her head, her golden blonde hair hanging slightly in the soft, desert breeze, and then turned her attention back to Mabyn.
He sighed heavily. He would do anything to make the situation right. This was the last thing he wanted for any of them, especially for Mabyn … and Max and Isabel and Michael. Hell, for any of the survivors. They were like a family now, banding together to try and survive another day. And in that one reckless moment no more than ten minutes ago, he had crashed and burned all of their hopes of survival. He felt like the idiotic teenager who stole the keys from his parents and ended up crashing the hovercraft into a parked ship, which by the way, he had done … twice.
He wasn’t even sure why he had lost his cool so easily, or why he had a history of it. When he was younger, he would frequently find himself being punished for something he did or said, and later he couldn’t understand why he had acted or said the things he did. It was as if his mouth would say the words, and his brain struggled to keep up. He never thought the bad habit would turn out to be so destructive. He never thought that it would possible mean his death. Not to mention everyone around him.
Yet again, his mouth had gotten not only him, but also everyone around him, in trouble. God help him if they did somehow get out of this. There was no telling what they would do to him. He was quite certain he would prefer death to Michael’s brand of punishment.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“What’s goin’ on?” Mabyn asked quietly.
“I’m not sure sweety.” Isabel had absolutely no idea how she was suppose to explain to a ten year old how much trouble they were all in, or why they were in it, or how they were going to get out of it. One thing was for sure … she wasn’t going to offer any information. She didn’t want to have to openly lie to the frightened girl in front of her. That, and she was going to kill Kyle as soon as the opportunity arose. Okay, so two things were for sure.
She had actually been surprised when the woman soldier with the longer hair and green-blue eyes who had tied her and Mabyn up, had been quite social with the little girl, asking questions and giving a small smile. It had almost seemed as if the woman took no pleasure in her task. But Mabyn had been too scared to say much of anything. When the woman had asked if Isabel was Mabyn’s mother, all Mabyn could do was stare with big, teary eyes and tuck herself further into Isabel’s tunic.
It had been that question, and not Kyle’s unbelievably impossible stupidity, that had rocked her more than anything. She had never thought that anyone would assume that Isabel was Mabyn’s mother. They looked alike, she supposed. Their eyes were the same color, and they did appear to have similar facial structure. Their mouths and lips were alike, and Mabyn’s height at a young age was also an indicator. Not to mention that Mabyn had been plastered to Isabel’s side since their introduction back on Antar.
But their attitudes and personalities were like day and night. Where Isabel had confidence to spare, Mabyn was timid and uncertain. She supposed that wasn’t entirely true. Her confidence was almost always a façade of some sort, whether it was to hide her insecurity or to intimidate any surrounding individuals. But in all fairness, anyone in the position of a captive would be scared, and Isabel’s attempt at maintaining her confidence and hiding her fear was wearing thin. The only reason her resolve hadn’t broken yet was because of Mabyn … and the fact that she was quite certain she could single-handedly take out the guard on the right.
“Well … what are they doin’?” She hoped Isabel wouldn’t get mad at her for asking so many questions. But she was really scared. Seeing Kyle lying asleep in the sand with blood coming out of his ear was probably the most frightening thing she had ever seen. If Isabel hadn’t tried to soothe her, she would have screamed and cried … like what she did back home during the bombings, before Kyle had found her. After her mom had put her behind the counter of the shop to hide, and had never come back. After she had gone out looking for her mom, and instead found so many bodies on the ground. Her mom’s body being one of them.
Now that Kyle was awake, she felt better. For a while, she was afraid he would never wake up, like her mom. But he was looking at her now, with big eyes. It looked like he was trying to say something, but there was a piece of white cloth in his mouth, and all of his words were muffled.
She waited for Isabel to answer, trying to keep one eye on her, one on Kyle, and one on the two women talking just a few feet away. Her head hurt trying to see everything.
Isabel shook her head hating the fact that she had to answer a question she didn’t know the answer to. Her patience with the two guards was wearing thinner by the second. “I’m sorry sweety. I just don’t know. But we’ll be okay. I promise, Mabyn. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”
Mabyn didn’t say much of anything after that. Instead, snuggling into the older woman, she closed her eyes, wishing that Isabel could put her arms around her like she had in the cave.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“So, what are we gonna do now?” she asked offhandedly.
“How the hell should I know? I’ve never taken prisoners before. You’re the soldier.”
“Oh, that’s rich. Blame the one with five weeks training. For the record, I never made it out of basic; those masochistic assholes burned down the village before I could take the test.”
Courtney sighed heavily. “Come on Maria. You’re better at this than me. We were just supposed to scout. Aron didn’t say anything about prisoners or interrogation. We’re not trained for it.”
“No shit. Just give me a minute,” Maria said. Her short blonde hair was plastered to her pale face from the heat and sweat. Her bandana hung in the wind, tied around her forehead, and the long red tales hung low on her back. Her clothes were dirty and torn and tight on her thin body, signs of struggle and battle, signs of a soldier hard at work. Despite her warrior appearance, the laser gun in her hand had only been fired once outside of training. Once, since the Seroan soldiers overtook their small planet and raided the villages and ports. She was saving her firepower for the revenge she so desperately wanted.
At first, she had assumed, along with Courtney, that the small group of people in front of her was Seroan. No other visitors had entered the planet since the formal agreement made weeks before. She didn’t know why King Philip had agreed to give Cantu to Khivar. And frankly, she didn’t care anymore. She had survived extended, countless weeks hidden in caves with the other refugees. She was a small part of a larger whole on Cantu. If it hadn’t been for Aron, Maria was very sure she would have been dead long ago, despite her brief stint as a soldier.
“Tell ya what,” she started. “We ask them where they’re from. Try and get some information out of them.” When she saw Courtney give her a skeptical look, “Court, look. They have a kid with ‘em. Do you really thing Seroan soldiers would travel with a kid?” She shook her head at her own question. “It doesn’t make any sense. I really don’t think they’re here to hurt us. Remember what the one loudmouth said? They didn’t know that Cantu had been raided. They can’t be Seroan.”
“Yeah,” Courtney said, pondering Maria’s words. “So, who do we talk to?”
Maria thought for a moment. “The loudmouth called that big fella ‘fearless leader.’ I guess he’s the one we should try first.” Without looking behind her towards the survivors, she added, “He’s been staring at us for the past fifteen minutes. He obviously wants some information.”
Courtney looked over Maria’s shoulder to the one they were talking about, and sure enough … he was eyeing them keenly. She shot Maria a surprised look, “How do you do that?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Spending years in my mom’s shop. You have to grow eyes in the back of your head to catch the shoplifters. Ready?” she asked, knowing that Courtney was anything but.
“Yeah. But, um … you do most of the talkin’, all right? You know … good cop, bad cop.”
“Yeah, okay. I like being bad anyways,” Maria agreed with a wink.
They turned to the small group in front of them, and neared whom they assumed was the leader. Maria displayed her laser gun in her hands, and a smirk on her face, clearly unfazed by the man’s hostile behavior towards them.
“You willin’ to talk?” she asked him offhandedly.
“Who the fuck are you?” he asked ardently, without preamble. Max shook his head.
Maria gave Courtney a look, and then turned to Michael and said, “Look buddy. You are on our planet. We ask the questions. First, who are you and why are you here?”
“Untie us first, and then we’ll answer your questions.”
Maria and Michael eyed each other, a silent stand off, both unwilling to give in.
Everyone was very aware that the “negotiations” that were taking place were very important to their survival. If Michael didn’t handle the situation sensitively, they could all end up dead. The nine survivors were on their knees in front of two women with trigger-happy fingers. Needless to say, their hearts were beating a little faster than normal. Max couldn’t speak for everyone, but he didn’t have high hopes, considering he knew first hand what Michael’s bargaining skills were like.
Maria was very interested to hear where exactly they were from, but wasn’t to excited about untying any of them, especially this bigmouthed lunatic that was treating her like shit. Granted, she tied his rope a little tighter than anyone else. But could anyone blame her? She could just tell he needed to be put in his place, and she had him right where she wanted him … on his knees.
Finally, Maria shook her head, “Nah, I don’t think so. I don’t know who you are. How can I trust you?”
“Look lady, you attacked us …”
“Attacked?! I think you got that a little twisted around. We are defending our planet. If there was any attacking it was weeks ago when Khivar came and raided the place.”
Bo spoke up. “Khivar did this?” Maria tore her livid gaze from Michael and nodded. “Why?”
“How the fuck should I know? He’s a fucking tyrant. Why does he do anything?”
Michael interceded, “Well we’re not with Khivar, alright? We left our planet to escape him.”
Maria’s eyes got big. “So you are from Sero.” She turned to Courtney, “I knew it. It’s a good fucking thing I brought that rope, to tie you motherfu –”
“Could you watch the language please?” Isabel interjected hotly, motioning the best she could to Mabyn, who hid her face in Isabel’s clothing.
Courtney was started by the woman’s interruption, but was quick to agree. “Oh! Yeah, um … well, is she okay?”
“No she’s not okay! Her hands are tied.”
Courtney turned close to Maria and, after looking away from the group and putting her mouth close to Maria’s ear, she asked, “Maybe we could untie the girl?”
Maria considered the request and announced, “Alright, here’s the deal. You tell us everything and we’ll untie the girl.”
Michael was quick to answer, “You untie the women, and we’ll answer your questions.”
No one in the Antar camp disputed the sexist implications. They were eager for any step closer to freedom, and waited with baited breath to see how the hotheaded blonde would respond.
Maria considered it for a second, weighing her options, and then nodded to Courtney.
She all but ran to Mabyn, and gently took her bound hands in her own. When the small girl fought her efforts, she spoke, “Hon, I need your hands.”
Mabyn peered from behind the cloth of Isabel’s tunic, and saw the gleam of the knife in the woman’s hand. She struggled to escape the woman in front of her, but when Courtney held fast, Mabyn was forced to use the only other means of escape she had. She screamed … loudly.
Courtney and Isabel jumped at its intensity, and the others turned quickly to its source, surprised that such a small person could make such a big sound.
“Jesus Christ, she’s loud,” Maria muttered.
“Mabyn! Mabyn, shhh. It’s okay. She’s going to cut the rope. Just the rope sweety,” Isabel tried to sooth.
Mabyn stopped struggling and screaming long enough to consider Isabel’s words. She did want to be untied, but the knife scared her. Everything was scaring her and she didn’t know who to trust or what to do. She wasn’t sure what to believe.
She frantically searched around her for an exit, and her eyes landed on Kyle. His eyes were still big, but they had something else … something she couldn’t name. And then he nodded. He wanted her to let the woman with the knife near her. Sighing heavily, and half expecting the knife to cut her anyway, Mabyn held out her hands, and closed her eyes waiting for the inevitable.
But it never came, except for the sweet relief of her wrists from the rope.
She looked up surprised, and then returned to her buried position in Isabel’s side.
Courtney gave a lasting look to Mabyn, and then stood to cut Isabel free. Once she was released, Isabel hugged Mabyn close, grateful to have the privilege once again.
Max turned and gave his sister a small smile, thankful that both her and Mabyn were uninjured.
“Alright, now talk. Who are you?”
Michael turned to Maria, and with a heavy, exaggerated sigh, replied, “First of all, we’re not from Sero, we’re from Antar.” At Courtney’s surprised gasp and Maria’s stunned silent response, he continued. “Yeah, hothead. Antar. You just took the Prince and Princess of Antar into custody.”
And with that, Maria waltzed up to Michael, and promptly smacked him across his face, effectively wiping the smug expression clean off it.
“You arrogance asshole. If you don’t start giving me the truth, I’ll tie them back up and I guarantee you, I won’t be so sympathetic.”
Michael shook his head from the impact, slightly dizzy and completely dumbfounded. Damn, he thought. “We are from Antar. We’re all that’s left of the royal assembly.” He could feel the blood from his mouth drip down his chin. Damn she hit hard.
Courtney shook her head, now standing behind Maria after cutting Rylie loose. “No. The royal family’s dead. We heard.”
Michael’s head, along with the other survivors watching, shot up in alarm. “What? When?”
Maria nodded. “When Khivar took over, he said Antar was finished. That he had killed the royal family. What? Are you saying it’s not true?”
“No, it’s not,” Max spoke quietly. When he felt all eyes on him, he continued. “I’m Max, and the woman with Mabyn is my sister Isabel. Of Antar.”
Maria was skeptical. If the man was who he said he was, then it would be the happiest day for the refugees on Cantu in weeks. If he was a liar, then he deserved to be killed. Impersonating a member of the royal family, even when they were suspected dead, was a crime punishable by death.
Her eyes never left Max as she neared him. He seemed to be telling the truth; no telltale signs of dishonesty were apparent. He maintained eye contact, his voice didn’t waiver, and none of the group disagreed. If anything, they hung on her response, waiting to see if she would believe him. And she wanted to. It would mean so much to everyone back at the base if the crown Prince of Antar made an appearance. But if he was lying …
She stood just inches from him now, leaning so that her face was a breath away from his. She pulled her knife suddenly, and the blade gleamed in the bright sunlight. But his eyes never left hers. He wasn’t going to back down. He couldn’t. Max had to save Isabel and the others. He would give his life, if he needed to, to save those around him. Despite that, he couldn’t help his throat bobbing with shuddering anticipation.
Michael struggled against his restraints and Courtney was quick to aim her laser gun directly at him, daring him to make any move at all. He backed down and waited, along with everyone else. What would she do?
Isabel saw the knife, and pulled Mabyn closer to her, hiding the girl’s eyes with her hand. “Oh Jesus,” she cursed under her breath, and prayed that more blood wouldn’t be shed so soon.
Maria raised the blade, and it nearly grazed his throat in the process. His jaw clenched in anticipation, but still his intent gaze never wavered. He watched as the knife disappeared behind his head, and he could do nothing but await the cut along his throat that was fast approaching.
And then suddenly his hands were free as the knife cut the rope with one swipe.
He expelled a breath he wasn’t even aware he had been holding, and his eyes flew up to hers to silently inquire why.
Her voice was low and harsh. “If I find out you lied to me … I’ll kill you myself.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“It’s not too much further,” Courtney said over her shoulder to the group of survivors following her lead back to the cave.
The final sun was beginning to set in the horizon, allowing the heat to pass. Long shadows of the group were cast along the sand as the made their way across the desert.
Maria hung in back, watching the Antarian group carefully, obviously still skeptical of their intentions. They had said they had come to Cantu for refuge, and eventually revenge, of Khivar. She could understand their reasoning, but their story wasn’t all that believable. Surviving Khivar’s initial attack in the first place? A Rumigan outrunning two Midori ships? A purple cloud destroying their enemy and hurtling the Rumigan through the galaxy? Yeah right.
“You know, you can put the gun down,” Michael said over his shoulder to Maria.
“Or I could shook you and be done with it.”
That smirk was back on his face as he turned to her and said, “Oh I see. You’re back there to check out my bod?”
“You wish.”
He shook his head, exasperated already with the woman that just didn’t seem to quite. “You know, we’re not here to hurt you. We’re here to help. You don’t need to watch us like a hawk.”
“Maybe I do. You know, after the attack on Cantu … after they raided Zamora, and killed my father … yeah, I think I deserve to be a little wary of any ‘visitors.’ ”
Michael stunned quiet after her confession, not knowing what to say. So he didn’t say anything.
There was something about this Maria person that intrigued him. She was feisty, and smart, and damn stubborn. And okay, beautiful too. A soldier with attitude to spare, and she was pointing her gun at his back. Not at the group … at him. What did he do to piss her off? All he did was defend his friends against her very certain wrath. He assumed he could just breathe and she would be livid. And damn if it didn’t turn him on just a little bit.
They neared the cave, a large outcropping of boulders next to a substantial wall of rock scaling over one hundred feet tall. The opening to the cave was small; a scout would probably miss it if he weren’t looking for it. It was tucked behind one large boulder, and the shadows of the rocks hit the black opening in the wall.
Maria and Courtney had given them zero details of what to expect, and for all they knew they were walking into another trap. But their options were running out, and accepting any help was a relief.
Courtney entered first, squeezing through the opening between the boulder and the wall. Next was Isabel, followed by Kyle who was now carrying a sleeping Mabyn. Rylie and Alex were next. Bo and Koen ushered Max inside.
Lastly Michael and Maria.
He stepped aside at the last minute, genuinely offering, “Ladies first?” Maria eyed him carefully, and then entered waited for him to cross the threshold of their refuge.
It was dark inside, and Michael’s eyes took a minute to focus to the dim lighting provided with mounted torches. As Courtney led the group, they passed guards who eyed the newcomers warily. Everyone was silent as they traveled further and further, and Michael noticed that, the further they traveled, the smaller the tunnel grew. When they had first entered, the cave had been some twenty feet tall. Now, the ceiling of the tunnel they traveled nearly scraped his head.
When he turned to Maria and asked the silent question, she responded, “It’s not too much further.”
With that she slung her gun over her shoulder, relinquishing her watch on the reclusive man named Michael, and prepared for the extensive explaining her and Courtney were sure to undertake.
The tunnel finally opened into the larger cave. It was filled with light, large torches burning in every corner. Dozens of people were scattered, carving or whittling or cooking or cleaning. Max hadn’t expected so many survivors. But then, Courtney had said that Khivar had not been out so much for blood as he had been for supplies and resources. What little Cantu had had to offer, Khivar had taken.
Max was still curious how Khivar had kept the raid on Cantu a secret from the other planets in the Rylan system, or at the very least Antar. He was certain that if his father had caught wind of Khivar’s actions, Philip would have renounced the agreement and taken action against him.
Antar had never heard anything of the attack on Cantu or its people. But it was dangerous to play the ‘what if’ game, and so Max quietly let the issue go.
He felt a strange kinship with the survivors, some of which were now looking at him with interest, while others remained oblivious to their presence. Max looked at the ragged faces of children, women, and men who had sought refuge in the cave on the small dune planet. Some younger than Mabyn, some nearing the final days of their natural life.
They approached another large tunnel, and as they turned to enter it, movement to his right caught his eye. There was a group of young boys and girls with swords in hand, taking instruction from a woman. They followed her movement exactly. When she lifted her sword, so did they. When she took a step, so did they. When she swung at an invisible enemy, so did they. The woman’s movements were precise, and calculated. She was sure of herself, her confidence radiated from her being.
She turned towards him and he caught her face, and he sucked in a surprised breath. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on. The low light in the cave gave her skin a rich, bronze color. Her hair was a cascade of chocolate brown waves that fell to the middle of her back. Her large brown eyes were expressive but guarded, as if she held secrets deep inside her.
Something about her called to him … to his soul. It was as if he recognized her, and as they entered the tunnel and she disappeared from his view, he swore that he would find her again.
He had to.
Part 11
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
If there was ever a time that Kyle wanted to take back everything he had said, now was definitely the time.
He struggled to open his eyes, disillusioned with the fog of confusion in his brain. What had happened? One moment he had been screaming at Michael, and then the next he was lying face down in the desert. His head hurt, and he could feel dried blood down his jaw and ear.
They were all on their knees, hands locked above their heads, eyeing the two guards that had taken them into captivity just moments ago. No one had seen them coming, all too preoccupied with Kyle’s belligerently defiant speech, and now he was eating his words … literally. The gag the one blonde woman had put in his mouth was anything but comfortable.
The two women were several feet away, talking candidly, but no one was able to hear a word. They were careful to keep their voices down.
There had been plenty of times in his past where the need to redo a certain moment in time had arisen, and most were because of something he had said or did. He had a serious impulse control problem. And that was putting it mildly.
What Kyle really wanted to do was go back five minutes in time and undo what he had just done. They had come so far. Cantu was supposed to be the place that they were to seek refuge, not be taken prisoner minutes after landing. Somehow, by the grace of … whoever … they had actually escaped Khivar’s men, and had landed on Cantu safely. The final part of their plan might have worked, too, if it hadn’t been for Kyle’s big mouth and attitude.
After lifting himself from the sand, leaning heavily on his left leg, Kyle turned slightly to his right, taking in Rylie, Bo, and Koen’s position. All three were every bit upset and sore towards him. Koen and Bo wouldn’t even look at him, even though he was certain they could feel his eyes on them. Rylie didn’t look at much of anything but the supplies just to her right.
He caught movement out of his right eye and followed it, seeing Alex behind him. He only met the man’s eyes briefly, and then Alex returned to his attempt at loosening the rope around his wrists.
Kyle turned straight, and could see Max just ahead of him. His posture was the same as all the others, sitting on his heels with his hands behind his head, tied with rope.
Michael was to Max’s right, and from what Kyle could tell, was trying to make out what the two women were saying.
Isabel was to Kyle’s left, with Mabyn close by. And that’s when he felt it. Oh God, he thought. Mabyn. He hadn’t had much of a chance to worry about her before through the haze of being knocked on the head and coming to in a cloud of confusion and pain, lying face down in the sand. He knew he had only been out for a few minutes. But in those minutes, he could see that Mabyn had been tied also. Her hands were bound but they were on her lap, not behind her head. She was crying silent tears, more out of fear than anything else, Kyle hoped anyway.
She huddled near Isabel, who was valiantly trying to smile at the child and speak softly to her, having not being gagged like him. He noted that none of the others were gagged, and rightfully so. No one else had been as stupid as he had, leading an enemy right to them.
Isabel turned then towards him. She cast a look in his direction, but it wasn’t anger or resentment. It was worse. Disappointment. She slowly shook her head, her golden blonde hair hanging slightly in the soft, desert breeze, and then turned her attention back to Mabyn.
He sighed heavily. He would do anything to make the situation right. This was the last thing he wanted for any of them, especially for Mabyn … and Max and Isabel and Michael. Hell, for any of the survivors. They were like a family now, banding together to try and survive another day. And in that one reckless moment no more than ten minutes ago, he had crashed and burned all of their hopes of survival. He felt like the idiotic teenager who stole the keys from his parents and ended up crashing the hovercraft into a parked ship, which by the way, he had done … twice.
He wasn’t even sure why he had lost his cool so easily, or why he had a history of it. When he was younger, he would frequently find himself being punished for something he did or said, and later he couldn’t understand why he had acted or said the things he did. It was as if his mouth would say the words, and his brain struggled to keep up. He never thought the bad habit would turn out to be so destructive. He never thought that it would possible mean his death. Not to mention everyone around him.
Yet again, his mouth had gotten not only him, but also everyone around him, in trouble. God help him if they did somehow get out of this. There was no telling what they would do to him. He was quite certain he would prefer death to Michael’s brand of punishment.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“What’s goin’ on?” Mabyn asked quietly.
“I’m not sure sweety.” Isabel had absolutely no idea how she was suppose to explain to a ten year old how much trouble they were all in, or why they were in it, or how they were going to get out of it. One thing was for sure … she wasn’t going to offer any information. She didn’t want to have to openly lie to the frightened girl in front of her. That, and she was going to kill Kyle as soon as the opportunity arose. Okay, so two things were for sure.
She had actually been surprised when the woman soldier with the longer hair and green-blue eyes who had tied her and Mabyn up, had been quite social with the little girl, asking questions and giving a small smile. It had almost seemed as if the woman took no pleasure in her task. But Mabyn had been too scared to say much of anything. When the woman had asked if Isabel was Mabyn’s mother, all Mabyn could do was stare with big, teary eyes and tuck herself further into Isabel’s tunic.
It had been that question, and not Kyle’s unbelievably impossible stupidity, that had rocked her more than anything. She had never thought that anyone would assume that Isabel was Mabyn’s mother. They looked alike, she supposed. Their eyes were the same color, and they did appear to have similar facial structure. Their mouths and lips were alike, and Mabyn’s height at a young age was also an indicator. Not to mention that Mabyn had been plastered to Isabel’s side since their introduction back on Antar.
But their attitudes and personalities were like day and night. Where Isabel had confidence to spare, Mabyn was timid and uncertain. She supposed that wasn’t entirely true. Her confidence was almost always a façade of some sort, whether it was to hide her insecurity or to intimidate any surrounding individuals. But in all fairness, anyone in the position of a captive would be scared, and Isabel’s attempt at maintaining her confidence and hiding her fear was wearing thin. The only reason her resolve hadn’t broken yet was because of Mabyn … and the fact that she was quite certain she could single-handedly take out the guard on the right.
“Well … what are they doin’?” She hoped Isabel wouldn’t get mad at her for asking so many questions. But she was really scared. Seeing Kyle lying asleep in the sand with blood coming out of his ear was probably the most frightening thing she had ever seen. If Isabel hadn’t tried to soothe her, she would have screamed and cried … like what she did back home during the bombings, before Kyle had found her. After her mom had put her behind the counter of the shop to hide, and had never come back. After she had gone out looking for her mom, and instead found so many bodies on the ground. Her mom’s body being one of them.
Now that Kyle was awake, she felt better. For a while, she was afraid he would never wake up, like her mom. But he was looking at her now, with big eyes. It looked like he was trying to say something, but there was a piece of white cloth in his mouth, and all of his words were muffled.
She waited for Isabel to answer, trying to keep one eye on her, one on Kyle, and one on the two women talking just a few feet away. Her head hurt trying to see everything.
Isabel shook her head hating the fact that she had to answer a question she didn’t know the answer to. Her patience with the two guards was wearing thinner by the second. “I’m sorry sweety. I just don’t know. But we’ll be okay. I promise, Mabyn. I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”
Mabyn didn’t say much of anything after that. Instead, snuggling into the older woman, she closed her eyes, wishing that Isabel could put her arms around her like she had in the cave.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“So, what are we gonna do now?” she asked offhandedly.
“How the hell should I know? I’ve never taken prisoners before. You’re the soldier.”
“Oh, that’s rich. Blame the one with five weeks training. For the record, I never made it out of basic; those masochistic assholes burned down the village before I could take the test.”
Courtney sighed heavily. “Come on Maria. You’re better at this than me. We were just supposed to scout. Aron didn’t say anything about prisoners or interrogation. We’re not trained for it.”
“No shit. Just give me a minute,” Maria said. Her short blonde hair was plastered to her pale face from the heat and sweat. Her bandana hung in the wind, tied around her forehead, and the long red tales hung low on her back. Her clothes were dirty and torn and tight on her thin body, signs of struggle and battle, signs of a soldier hard at work. Despite her warrior appearance, the laser gun in her hand had only been fired once outside of training. Once, since the Seroan soldiers overtook their small planet and raided the villages and ports. She was saving her firepower for the revenge she so desperately wanted.
At first, she had assumed, along with Courtney, that the small group of people in front of her was Seroan. No other visitors had entered the planet since the formal agreement made weeks before. She didn’t know why King Philip had agreed to give Cantu to Khivar. And frankly, she didn’t care anymore. She had survived extended, countless weeks hidden in caves with the other refugees. She was a small part of a larger whole on Cantu. If it hadn’t been for Aron, Maria was very sure she would have been dead long ago, despite her brief stint as a soldier.
“Tell ya what,” she started. “We ask them where they’re from. Try and get some information out of them.” When she saw Courtney give her a skeptical look, “Court, look. They have a kid with ‘em. Do you really thing Seroan soldiers would travel with a kid?” She shook her head at her own question. “It doesn’t make any sense. I really don’t think they’re here to hurt us. Remember what the one loudmouth said? They didn’t know that Cantu had been raided. They can’t be Seroan.”
“Yeah,” Courtney said, pondering Maria’s words. “So, who do we talk to?”
Maria thought for a moment. “The loudmouth called that big fella ‘fearless leader.’ I guess he’s the one we should try first.” Without looking behind her towards the survivors, she added, “He’s been staring at us for the past fifteen minutes. He obviously wants some information.”
Courtney looked over Maria’s shoulder to the one they were talking about, and sure enough … he was eyeing them keenly. She shot Maria a surprised look, “How do you do that?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Spending years in my mom’s shop. You have to grow eyes in the back of your head to catch the shoplifters. Ready?” she asked, knowing that Courtney was anything but.
“Yeah. But, um … you do most of the talkin’, all right? You know … good cop, bad cop.”
“Yeah, okay. I like being bad anyways,” Maria agreed with a wink.
They turned to the small group in front of them, and neared whom they assumed was the leader. Maria displayed her laser gun in her hands, and a smirk on her face, clearly unfazed by the man’s hostile behavior towards them.
“You willin’ to talk?” she asked him offhandedly.
“Who the fuck are you?” he asked ardently, without preamble. Max shook his head.
Maria gave Courtney a look, and then turned to Michael and said, “Look buddy. You are on our planet. We ask the questions. First, who are you and why are you here?”
“Untie us first, and then we’ll answer your questions.”
Maria and Michael eyed each other, a silent stand off, both unwilling to give in.
Everyone was very aware that the “negotiations” that were taking place were very important to their survival. If Michael didn’t handle the situation sensitively, they could all end up dead. The nine survivors were on their knees in front of two women with trigger-happy fingers. Needless to say, their hearts were beating a little faster than normal. Max couldn’t speak for everyone, but he didn’t have high hopes, considering he knew first hand what Michael’s bargaining skills were like.
Maria was very interested to hear where exactly they were from, but wasn’t to excited about untying any of them, especially this bigmouthed lunatic that was treating her like shit. Granted, she tied his rope a little tighter than anyone else. But could anyone blame her? She could just tell he needed to be put in his place, and she had him right where she wanted him … on his knees.
Finally, Maria shook her head, “Nah, I don’t think so. I don’t know who you are. How can I trust you?”
“Look lady, you attacked us …”
“Attacked?! I think you got that a little twisted around. We are defending our planet. If there was any attacking it was weeks ago when Khivar came and raided the place.”
Bo spoke up. “Khivar did this?” Maria tore her livid gaze from Michael and nodded. “Why?”
“How the fuck should I know? He’s a fucking tyrant. Why does he do anything?”
Michael interceded, “Well we’re not with Khivar, alright? We left our planet to escape him.”
Maria’s eyes got big. “So you are from Sero.” She turned to Courtney, “I knew it. It’s a good fucking thing I brought that rope, to tie you motherfu –”
“Could you watch the language please?” Isabel interjected hotly, motioning the best she could to Mabyn, who hid her face in Isabel’s clothing.
Courtney was started by the woman’s interruption, but was quick to agree. “Oh! Yeah, um … well, is she okay?”
“No she’s not okay! Her hands are tied.”
Courtney turned close to Maria and, after looking away from the group and putting her mouth close to Maria’s ear, she asked, “Maybe we could untie the girl?”
Maria considered the request and announced, “Alright, here’s the deal. You tell us everything and we’ll untie the girl.”
Michael was quick to answer, “You untie the women, and we’ll answer your questions.”
No one in the Antar camp disputed the sexist implications. They were eager for any step closer to freedom, and waited with baited breath to see how the hotheaded blonde would respond.
Maria considered it for a second, weighing her options, and then nodded to Courtney.
She all but ran to Mabyn, and gently took her bound hands in her own. When the small girl fought her efforts, she spoke, “Hon, I need your hands.”
Mabyn peered from behind the cloth of Isabel’s tunic, and saw the gleam of the knife in the woman’s hand. She struggled to escape the woman in front of her, but when Courtney held fast, Mabyn was forced to use the only other means of escape she had. She screamed … loudly.
Courtney and Isabel jumped at its intensity, and the others turned quickly to its source, surprised that such a small person could make such a big sound.
“Jesus Christ, she’s loud,” Maria muttered.
“Mabyn! Mabyn, shhh. It’s okay. She’s going to cut the rope. Just the rope sweety,” Isabel tried to sooth.
Mabyn stopped struggling and screaming long enough to consider Isabel’s words. She did want to be untied, but the knife scared her. Everything was scaring her and she didn’t know who to trust or what to do. She wasn’t sure what to believe.
She frantically searched around her for an exit, and her eyes landed on Kyle. His eyes were still big, but they had something else … something she couldn’t name. And then he nodded. He wanted her to let the woman with the knife near her. Sighing heavily, and half expecting the knife to cut her anyway, Mabyn held out her hands, and closed her eyes waiting for the inevitable.
But it never came, except for the sweet relief of her wrists from the rope.
She looked up surprised, and then returned to her buried position in Isabel’s side.
Courtney gave a lasting look to Mabyn, and then stood to cut Isabel free. Once she was released, Isabel hugged Mabyn close, grateful to have the privilege once again.
Max turned and gave his sister a small smile, thankful that both her and Mabyn were uninjured.
“Alright, now talk. Who are you?”
Michael turned to Maria, and with a heavy, exaggerated sigh, replied, “First of all, we’re not from Sero, we’re from Antar.” At Courtney’s surprised gasp and Maria’s stunned silent response, he continued. “Yeah, hothead. Antar. You just took the Prince and Princess of Antar into custody.”
And with that, Maria waltzed up to Michael, and promptly smacked him across his face, effectively wiping the smug expression clean off it.
“You arrogance asshole. If you don’t start giving me the truth, I’ll tie them back up and I guarantee you, I won’t be so sympathetic.”
Michael shook his head from the impact, slightly dizzy and completely dumbfounded. Damn, he thought. “We are from Antar. We’re all that’s left of the royal assembly.” He could feel the blood from his mouth drip down his chin. Damn she hit hard.
Courtney shook her head, now standing behind Maria after cutting Rylie loose. “No. The royal family’s dead. We heard.”
Michael’s head, along with the other survivors watching, shot up in alarm. “What? When?”
Maria nodded. “When Khivar took over, he said Antar was finished. That he had killed the royal family. What? Are you saying it’s not true?”
“No, it’s not,” Max spoke quietly. When he felt all eyes on him, he continued. “I’m Max, and the woman with Mabyn is my sister Isabel. Of Antar.”
Maria was skeptical. If the man was who he said he was, then it would be the happiest day for the refugees on Cantu in weeks. If he was a liar, then he deserved to be killed. Impersonating a member of the royal family, even when they were suspected dead, was a crime punishable by death.
Her eyes never left Max as she neared him. He seemed to be telling the truth; no telltale signs of dishonesty were apparent. He maintained eye contact, his voice didn’t waiver, and none of the group disagreed. If anything, they hung on her response, waiting to see if she would believe him. And she wanted to. It would mean so much to everyone back at the base if the crown Prince of Antar made an appearance. But if he was lying …
She stood just inches from him now, leaning so that her face was a breath away from his. She pulled her knife suddenly, and the blade gleamed in the bright sunlight. But his eyes never left hers. He wasn’t going to back down. He couldn’t. Max had to save Isabel and the others. He would give his life, if he needed to, to save those around him. Despite that, he couldn’t help his throat bobbing with shuddering anticipation.
Michael struggled against his restraints and Courtney was quick to aim her laser gun directly at him, daring him to make any move at all. He backed down and waited, along with everyone else. What would she do?
Isabel saw the knife, and pulled Mabyn closer to her, hiding the girl’s eyes with her hand. “Oh Jesus,” she cursed under her breath, and prayed that more blood wouldn’t be shed so soon.
Maria raised the blade, and it nearly grazed his throat in the process. His jaw clenched in anticipation, but still his intent gaze never wavered. He watched as the knife disappeared behind his head, and he could do nothing but await the cut along his throat that was fast approaching.
And then suddenly his hands were free as the knife cut the rope with one swipe.
He expelled a breath he wasn’t even aware he had been holding, and his eyes flew up to hers to silently inquire why.
Her voice was low and harsh. “If I find out you lied to me … I’ll kill you myself.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“It’s not too much further,” Courtney said over her shoulder to the group of survivors following her lead back to the cave.
The final sun was beginning to set in the horizon, allowing the heat to pass. Long shadows of the group were cast along the sand as the made their way across the desert.
Maria hung in back, watching the Antarian group carefully, obviously still skeptical of their intentions. They had said they had come to Cantu for refuge, and eventually revenge, of Khivar. She could understand their reasoning, but their story wasn’t all that believable. Surviving Khivar’s initial attack in the first place? A Rumigan outrunning two Midori ships? A purple cloud destroying their enemy and hurtling the Rumigan through the galaxy? Yeah right.
“You know, you can put the gun down,” Michael said over his shoulder to Maria.
“Or I could shook you and be done with it.”
That smirk was back on his face as he turned to her and said, “Oh I see. You’re back there to check out my bod?”
“You wish.”
He shook his head, exasperated already with the woman that just didn’t seem to quite. “You know, we’re not here to hurt you. We’re here to help. You don’t need to watch us like a hawk.”
“Maybe I do. You know, after the attack on Cantu … after they raided Zamora, and killed my father … yeah, I think I deserve to be a little wary of any ‘visitors.’ ”
Michael stunned quiet after her confession, not knowing what to say. So he didn’t say anything.
There was something about this Maria person that intrigued him. She was feisty, and smart, and damn stubborn. And okay, beautiful too. A soldier with attitude to spare, and she was pointing her gun at his back. Not at the group … at him. What did he do to piss her off? All he did was defend his friends against her very certain wrath. He assumed he could just breathe and she would be livid. And damn if it didn’t turn him on just a little bit.
They neared the cave, a large outcropping of boulders next to a substantial wall of rock scaling over one hundred feet tall. The opening to the cave was small; a scout would probably miss it if he weren’t looking for it. It was tucked behind one large boulder, and the shadows of the rocks hit the black opening in the wall.
Maria and Courtney had given them zero details of what to expect, and for all they knew they were walking into another trap. But their options were running out, and accepting any help was a relief.
Courtney entered first, squeezing through the opening between the boulder and the wall. Next was Isabel, followed by Kyle who was now carrying a sleeping Mabyn. Rylie and Alex were next. Bo and Koen ushered Max inside.
Lastly Michael and Maria.
He stepped aside at the last minute, genuinely offering, “Ladies first?” Maria eyed him carefully, and then entered waited for him to cross the threshold of their refuge.
It was dark inside, and Michael’s eyes took a minute to focus to the dim lighting provided with mounted torches. As Courtney led the group, they passed guards who eyed the newcomers warily. Everyone was silent as they traveled further and further, and Michael noticed that, the further they traveled, the smaller the tunnel grew. When they had first entered, the cave had been some twenty feet tall. Now, the ceiling of the tunnel they traveled nearly scraped his head.
When he turned to Maria and asked the silent question, she responded, “It’s not too much further.”
With that she slung her gun over her shoulder, relinquishing her watch on the reclusive man named Michael, and prepared for the extensive explaining her and Courtney were sure to undertake.
The tunnel finally opened into the larger cave. It was filled with light, large torches burning in every corner. Dozens of people were scattered, carving or whittling or cooking or cleaning. Max hadn’t expected so many survivors. But then, Courtney had said that Khivar had not been out so much for blood as he had been for supplies and resources. What little Cantu had had to offer, Khivar had taken.
Max was still curious how Khivar had kept the raid on Cantu a secret from the other planets in the Rylan system, or at the very least Antar. He was certain that if his father had caught wind of Khivar’s actions, Philip would have renounced the agreement and taken action against him.
Antar had never heard anything of the attack on Cantu or its people. But it was dangerous to play the ‘what if’ game, and so Max quietly let the issue go.
He felt a strange kinship with the survivors, some of which were now looking at him with interest, while others remained oblivious to their presence. Max looked at the ragged faces of children, women, and men who had sought refuge in the cave on the small dune planet. Some younger than Mabyn, some nearing the final days of their natural life.
They approached another large tunnel, and as they turned to enter it, movement to his right caught his eye. There was a group of young boys and girls with swords in hand, taking instruction from a woman. They followed her movement exactly. When she lifted her sword, so did they. When she took a step, so did they. When she swung at an invisible enemy, so did they. The woman’s movements were precise, and calculated. She was sure of herself, her confidence radiated from her being.
She turned towards him and he caught her face, and he sucked in a surprised breath. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on. The low light in the cave gave her skin a rich, bronze color. Her hair was a cascade of chocolate brown waves that fell to the middle of her back. Her large brown eyes were expressive but guarded, as if she held secrets deep inside her.
Something about her called to him … to his soul. It was as if he recognized her, and as they entered the tunnel and she disappeared from his view, he swore that he would find her again.
He had to.
God is a comedian playing to an audience too afraid to laugh.
~Voltaire
~Voltaire
-
truman11883
- Enthusiastic Roswellian
- Posts: 69
- Joined: Fri Apr 04, 2003 8:45 pm
- Location: St. Louis, Missouri, USA, Planet Earth
Leanna – English; Graceful Willow
Part 12
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
She cuddled closer to him as they walked, resting her chin on his left shoulder, eyeing the dark cave and the homely Cantu survivors inhabiting it. It was all so new and different, and a little scary. Having Kyle awake and holding her was helping, but Mabyn couldn’t seem to put her fears completely to rest. It was a tangible thing in her chest, a tight ball of fright, nearly choking her at times.
Ever since the last cave they were in, and what happened there, she had felt unsure about the people around her. She didn’t know the people around her, the other survivors from Antar; she didn’t trust them and she knew they didn’t trust her. Most of the time they ignored her, except for Isabel and Kyle. She felt so alone, even with so many people around her.
Mabyn kept Isabel in her view as she eyed the new people they passed. Some were old, with gray hair and wrinkled faces. Some were young like her, with unruly hair and wild eyes. Many of them would stop what they were doing, and look at her with a perusing gaze that unnerved her. She would hide herself in Kyle’s shoulder until they passed, and then her eyes would peek out to gaze at her surroundings again.
She eyed the dark brownish-red clay walls that hugged the light from the torches. The shadows bounced and danced as they walked by. The ball of fear wasn’t going away, though. It slowly grew with each step they took that led them further into the cave.
She felt Kyle hug her close, sensing her anxiety.
“You scared me,” she whispered.
He nodded.
“I’m sorry,” he replied, while rubbing her back. He knew what she was referring to, and God … he was sorry. So sorry.
She pulled back to look at him. Her brows furrows slightly, in a determined look as she said, “It won’t happen again, right?”
He looked down at the little girl in his arms, who was clinging to him in fear and comfort, and there were no words to reassure her. Her big brown eyes searched for any sign of confirmation that he would never let something like the day’s activities happen again. All she wanted was to hear those simple words, “It won’t happen again.” And he couldn’t bring himself to say it. Of course he wanted to put her fears at ease, but he didn’t want to lie either. And he would have to do one to fulfill the other.
Kyle had never felt more out of place, more inadequate in this new role as ‘father,’ than at that moment. How was he to console Mabyn when he couldn’t even bolster his own confidence? He had had no previous experience as a role model, and never once questioned his activities or motives before. Kyle had never had to worry about his image. He had always been known as the amicable companion, never contributing serious or profound sentiment. He lived simply to enjoy life.
But now, he couldn’t. And he hadn’t realized it before. He had assumed that Mabyn would enjoy his company, and he would enjoy hers. But she wanted so much more. She wanted a dad … she wanted a home. Could he give her that? Did she really want him to?
Why me? he thought. Surely Mabyn didn’t want an irresponsible soldier as a surrogate father? There must by someone better out there, someone more suitable to care for her. He didn’t know the first thing about parenting … obviously. He had made an ass out of himself, had put the entire group in jeopardy, and had subjected this little wisp of a girl – who was clinging to him like he was a lifeline – to harm and pain. He could very well be carrying her to her death, wherever they were going.
Kyle chose not to answer her question. He didn’t want to lie to her, because he honestly didn’t know what was going to happen, and he definitely couldn’t change anything now that everyone in the small group probably wanted him dead.
Except for Mabyn, though. She still wanted him. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be nearly suffocating him with her need to hug him close.
Her firm grip around him was actually comforting them both. He hadn’t realized how much he needed her before now. Sure, he had hated the fact that he had to leave her in the cave on Antar to go to the base. And he had waited quite impatiently to hold her again, to confirm that she was all right when they had finally gotten underway in space. Worrying about someone other than himself was something completely new to him. It was stressful, and heartbreaking, and wonderful all at once. He had never felt anything like it before … and realized he didn’t want to live without it again.
The fact that someone cared that much about him did amazing things to him. Not to mention the fact that it was completely unsolicited and innocent. Mabyn just wanted someone to hold her and tell her everything would be okay. And all he wanted was to give that to her. If only, he thought.
After several moments of waiting for an answer and not receiving one, she gave up with a sad sigh. Her eyes swept around them and caught the red blood that had fallen from his ear, and had dried, resting on his jaw. The ball of fear grew again, doubling in size.
Her small finger came up to lightly touch the blood on his jaw and neck. “You’re hurt,” she said quietly.
Kyle sighed heavily, and shook his head. “I’m okay now.”
She nodded, and then leaned in to give his boo-boo a quick peck with her lips. “All better,” she murmured quietly. She missed his pained expression, wishing everything really was ‘all better.’
The scary woman who had yelled and hit Kyle before was walking behind him now, in full view for Mabyn. She didn’t like the woman … Maria. She was loud and scary and impulsive.
Mabyn leaned closer, in a whisper of secrecy. “Are they bad?” she asked.
Kyle thought for a moment.
“I don’t think so,” he answered honestly. When he read her skeptical look, he continued, “We have to trust them, Mabyn. It’ll be okay. They won’t hurt you.” He leaned closer, whispering just for her to hear, “I won’t let them.”
She nodded, seemingly content with his explanation, and closed her eyes as she laid her head on his shoulder.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“How’s she doing?”
The voice to his left startled him, and he turned quickly to its source. Isabel.
He couldn’t tell by her face if she was still upset with him. Assuming she was, but taking her initiating conversation as a good sign, he responded, “Yeah, she’ll be alright. I think everything’s catching up with her, ya know?”
She nodded, and sat down next to him.
No one else had said a word to Kyle since his little speech in the desert, before Maria and Courtney knocked him unconscious and tied everyone up. They simply ignored him, which Isabel could tell was a harsher punishment for Kyle than actually yelling at him. He was always the center of attention, social and personable. Being publicly isolated was torture.
She eyed the room that they were now waiting in. It was large, with a lofty cave ceiling. Torches adorned the walls, much like the tunnels that they had traveled to get there. There were rugs on the floor, and a table with chairs around it. It seemed to be a private room, maybe a den or office of some kind. Courtney and Maria had left shortly after bringing them here, and had told them to wait. They were bringing someone to question them. Who, Isabel didn’t know. Hopefully it was someone that could explain why that Maria person was so God damn intolerable.
Isabel attempted to get comfortable while sitting at the edge of the room on the floor, near Kyle and Mabyn, who was now sleeping in his lap with her head resting on his shoulder.
The others were at the table or scattered around the room.
Michael was seated at the table stoned faced, as usual.
Max was next to him, preoccupied with his own thoughts as he was staring off into space, as usual.
Bo and Koen were quietly talking about weapons she assumed, if their motioning to the laser guns in their hands was any indication. They stuck together, as usual.
Rylie was in a far corner organizing their survival gear and supplies, as usual.
Alex helping her, offering his abilities and services anywhere he could, as usual.
Mabyn sought comfort where she could get it, as usual.
And poor Kyle was bearing the brunt of the imposed rejection. She felt compelled to end it soon … now.
“Yeah, I can imagine how hard this all must be for her,” Isabel said, while lifting her hand to lightly stroke the small girl’s hair, who was seemingly asleep in Kyle’s arms.
Kyle nodded.
He glanced down at the small girl snoozing lightly, and then up to Isabel. Their eyes met, and his throat tightened in repentance. He wanted to make it right with her, considering she was the only one even looking at him, much less talking to him. And it was the way she was looking at him … with expectant eyes, waiting for him to say something. An explanation, a plea of forgiveness, a promise that it would never happen again.
Once again, he was a deer caught in headlights. He had never had to explain himself to anyone before. He was never expected to, not that he would if it had been. But now, not only did he feel obligated to, but he wanted to. He wanted to explain and plead and promise. He felt compelled to say something … anything, and all that came out was a pitiful, “I’m sorry.”
Isabel looked at him for a moment, gauging his sincerity, and then nodded, saying, “Good.”
Kyle smiled self-consciously, wondering if that was all she was going to say. Surely Princess Isabel had more to say than ‘Good.’
“You were just saying what everyone was thinking,” she said offhandedly, chalking up the incident as extraneous … much to Kyle’s surprise. But to Isabel, he had apologized and that should be enough … at least for her. He was making it up now, holding and comforting Mabyn.
It still astounded her how different he was now. It had been years since they had spent any amount of time together when they were Mabyn’s age, when she and Max, Michael, and Kyle would play in the Palace courtyard and garden for hours. Back when they still remembered what it was like to be young and carefree and innocent.
In her opinion, Kyle was forgiven … as long as he kept Mabyn in mind. If he didn’t realize how much he affected her, he should now. Isabel suspected he had had an affinity of affection to Mabyn as Mabyn had for him, but he didn’t realize it, or at least acknowledge it. But now it was painfully clear … she needed him, he needed her. And it seemed as though he wasn’t going to split when things got rough. Thank God for small miracles.
“Well, that’s the problem,” he said. “I always say what I think. Or say without thinking. My mouth gets away from me, and I get in trouble.”
She nodded.
“Yeah … but everyone has their bad habits, right?” She gave a sideways glance in his direction, with a small smile. “No one’s perfect.”
His eyebrows rose. “No one?” he asked.
She laughed, and rolled her eyes.
“No one. Not even me.”
Astounded, Kyle asked, “Is the Princess Isabel admitting that she has flaws?”
She shook her head in mockery, ignoring his question.
“Well,” he continued. “I better go check for flying pigs.”
“Ha, ha. Very funny,” she said. “Just for that … I’m not telling you what they are.” She crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin flippantly, with a twinkle in her eye.
Shifting Mabyn up further on his chest to maintain a comfortable position, Kyle asked, “Oh, please … you have to tell me what these so-called ‘bad habits’ are. You can’t just leave me hanging.”
Her toothy grin emblazed her face. “You don’t wanna know.”
“Oh … yes I do,” he nodded emphatically.
She sighed dramatically.
“Fine … but I swear, if you breathe a word of this to anyone, I will kill you.”
“Noted,” he said quickly, listening intently. He scooted over closer to her.
“Well …” she started. Isabel hoped he or anyone else couldn’t tell she was blushing. It didn’t matter what or who she was, talking about this kind of thing with anyone was embarrassing. Not to mention the fact that she was … flirting, with Kyle no less.
“I guess my biggest flaw is that …”
Her words hung in the air, and Kyle watched her intently as she struggled to find the words.
“Yeah?” he prompted.
She glanced around the group cautiously, and Kyle followed her lead, making sure no one was overhearing.
Isabel motioned with her index finger for him to lean in, and when he was mere inches from her she whispered, “I bite my nails.”
He rolled his eyes and groaned dramatically. “Oh come on. You’ve got something better than that!”
She laughed.
“Nope,” she said. “That’s about it.”
“Pitiful.”
“What about you? Surely you have more flaws than over-speaking.”
“Oh yeah,” he said laughingly. “I got plenty of them.”
“Well?” she encouraged.
Getting comfortable in his seat on the floor, he said, “Alright.” He brought his right hand up, keeping his left on Mabyn. “One,” he said, extending his index finger. “I’m short.”
“You are not short,” Isabel interrupted.
“Believe me, I am. Two – I have an affinity of making an ass out of myself in whatever way possible.”
She laughed good-humoredly.
“Three, I’m … not smart,” he ventured hesitantly. ‘Stupid’ was just too harsh of a word, even for him to say.
She turned to him, with a questioning look. “What?”
His shoulders sagged, suddenly wishing he didn’t have to explain himself. “Oh come on. You of all people should know I’m not the sharpest crayon in the box.”
Isabel sobered, reading how serious Kyle was. She lowered her voice, asking gently, “What are you talking about?”
He shrugged. “Don’t you remember grade school, when we had that same tutor, Dr. Chasting?” He stared off in front of him, avoiding her eyes.
“Oh Kyle, you can’t take anything he said to heart. He was a prick. Everyone hated him.”
Kyle nodded.
“Yeah, but he was right.”
“No. He wasn’t.”
He chanced a look at her, and she continued.
“I remember what he used to say to you in front of the class. He was always making an example of you, and everyone would laugh. And you would try and play it off.” She shook her head in the memory, and frowned sadly when he nodded. “But you know what else I remember? I remember that it would take all my self-control not to say something to him. To put him in his place. He was an awful, awful man who took pleasure in belittling children. Just because you struggled a little bit in math doesn’t mean you’re stupid.”
He eyed her thoughtfully. Kyle could tell she was telling the truth; she wasn’t laying it on thick just for his benefit. It wasn’t her style. She was being completely honest with him. He always knew how caring she was, even when she didn’t. She had just become an expert at hiding it. But in that moment, he felt like he was ten years old again, hopelessly and completely infatuated with her.
And he had the distinct desire to kiss her.
He nodded, taking a serrated breath.
“Okay, now that I’ve bared my soul, what about you?” he ventured quietly.
She dropped her eyes, self consciously, and nodded.
“Yeah, I … I have a few insecurities myself.” She played with her clothing nervously.
He shifted so that they were now shoulder-to-shoulder, eye-to-eye, breath-to-breath.
“Well?”
“I guess … I’m afraid.”
“Afraid? Of what?”
She brought her eyes up to his, hoping that she wouldn’t find a condescending look, and relieved when all she found was sympathy.
“Of everything,” she answered softly.
He thought for a moment. “Besides our present situation,” he said, motioning to the room and condition they were in, “what could you possibly be afraid of?”
She shrugged heavily.
“You know me Kyle. I’m not like other girls. I never was. Like you said, I’m a Princess. I don’t have a normal life or normal concerns. I never have.” She hung her head as she said softly, “But I’m still a girl, just like any other. And I get scared … of getting hurt.”
He shifted Mabyn to his right side so that he could sling his left arm over Isabel’s shoulder.
“Have you been? Hurt, I mean.”
She shook her head.
“No. I made sure I didn’t.”
Her meaning clicked. “Oh yeah. Ice Princess,” he said under his breath, reminiscently.
She turned to him, with a questioning look in her eye. “The who?”
He laughed nervously. “Well, that’s what everyone called you back in the day. Ice Princess. Cause, you know … you were so … cold.” He shrugged helplessly, hoping she wouldn’t get the wrong idea, or mad.
All she did was roll her eyes.
“I guess I deserve that.”
She of all people knew how she was, and she had to admit she was cold. But she had to be. She had to be strong and independent. She had to be the resilient Princess and withstand public criticism and speculation. Isabel was always fending off unwanted attention from men who only wanted her because of her title – not because of who she was, but what she was. She had to make sure that no one broke her or scarred her. She had to protect her heart.
And until now, she was perfectly fine with that life. Keeping insignificant, trivial friendships and relationships was a sensible cover. No one could say she was isolated; she surrounded herself with people. Not that any of them had meant anything to her. Not that I meant anything to them, she thought. She enjoyed the anonymity among her ‘friends.’ They didn’t know her, and she wanted it that way. She had to protect herself … protect her heart.
But in the end, she was beginning to see that she had missed out on so much, and she hadn’t even known. She not only kept the hurt away, but kept the joy away too.
Not that there was a whole lot of joy going on now, what with the royal survivors of Antar holed up in a cave on the dune planet of Cantu, awaiting their impending doom.
But she was finding a little joy sitting here, in Kyle’s arm, with Mabyn quietly sleeping. His eyes were so kind. That was one thing she had to give him – he was so damn lovable. Even after the ‘incident,’ she couldn’t help but want to be around him. He was always so comical and friendly. If nothing else, he was such a great friend, loyal and reliable.
“No, you don’t deserve it. You deserve a lot better, Isabel.”
She looked at him with an inspecting look. Was he for real? She still wasn’t sure.
“Oh no?” she asked. “Third grade. Remember the Leanna incident?”
“Leanna incident?”
She nodded self-deprecatingly.
“She was new and wanted to be my friend … to the point of giving me gifts and doing my homework for me.” When she saw him nod to go on – still clueless, she continued, “I spread the rumor that she had –”
“That she had lice, and no one talked to her for a month.”
She nodded again.
“You remember,” she said, more as a statement than a question.
“Yeah. So … she didn’t have lice?”
“Nope.”
“Huh,” he said, stunned silent.
“Like I said,” Isabel continued. “Ice Princess.”
“Well, you had your reasons,” he reasoned.
She gave him a, incredulous look. “I was a bitch.”
He laughed.
“Yeah, well. We all have our moments.”
Part 12
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
She cuddled closer to him as they walked, resting her chin on his left shoulder, eyeing the dark cave and the homely Cantu survivors inhabiting it. It was all so new and different, and a little scary. Having Kyle awake and holding her was helping, but Mabyn couldn’t seem to put her fears completely to rest. It was a tangible thing in her chest, a tight ball of fright, nearly choking her at times.
Ever since the last cave they were in, and what happened there, she had felt unsure about the people around her. She didn’t know the people around her, the other survivors from Antar; she didn’t trust them and she knew they didn’t trust her. Most of the time they ignored her, except for Isabel and Kyle. She felt so alone, even with so many people around her.
Mabyn kept Isabel in her view as she eyed the new people they passed. Some were old, with gray hair and wrinkled faces. Some were young like her, with unruly hair and wild eyes. Many of them would stop what they were doing, and look at her with a perusing gaze that unnerved her. She would hide herself in Kyle’s shoulder until they passed, and then her eyes would peek out to gaze at her surroundings again.
She eyed the dark brownish-red clay walls that hugged the light from the torches. The shadows bounced and danced as they walked by. The ball of fear wasn’t going away, though. It slowly grew with each step they took that led them further into the cave.
She felt Kyle hug her close, sensing her anxiety.
“You scared me,” she whispered.
He nodded.
“I’m sorry,” he replied, while rubbing her back. He knew what she was referring to, and God … he was sorry. So sorry.
She pulled back to look at him. Her brows furrows slightly, in a determined look as she said, “It won’t happen again, right?”
He looked down at the little girl in his arms, who was clinging to him in fear and comfort, and there were no words to reassure her. Her big brown eyes searched for any sign of confirmation that he would never let something like the day’s activities happen again. All she wanted was to hear those simple words, “It won’t happen again.” And he couldn’t bring himself to say it. Of course he wanted to put her fears at ease, but he didn’t want to lie either. And he would have to do one to fulfill the other.
Kyle had never felt more out of place, more inadequate in this new role as ‘father,’ than at that moment. How was he to console Mabyn when he couldn’t even bolster his own confidence? He had had no previous experience as a role model, and never once questioned his activities or motives before. Kyle had never had to worry about his image. He had always been known as the amicable companion, never contributing serious or profound sentiment. He lived simply to enjoy life.
But now, he couldn’t. And he hadn’t realized it before. He had assumed that Mabyn would enjoy his company, and he would enjoy hers. But she wanted so much more. She wanted a dad … she wanted a home. Could he give her that? Did she really want him to?
Why me? he thought. Surely Mabyn didn’t want an irresponsible soldier as a surrogate father? There must by someone better out there, someone more suitable to care for her. He didn’t know the first thing about parenting … obviously. He had made an ass out of himself, had put the entire group in jeopardy, and had subjected this little wisp of a girl – who was clinging to him like he was a lifeline – to harm and pain. He could very well be carrying her to her death, wherever they were going.
Kyle chose not to answer her question. He didn’t want to lie to her, because he honestly didn’t know what was going to happen, and he definitely couldn’t change anything now that everyone in the small group probably wanted him dead.
Except for Mabyn, though. She still wanted him. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be nearly suffocating him with her need to hug him close.
Her firm grip around him was actually comforting them both. He hadn’t realized how much he needed her before now. Sure, he had hated the fact that he had to leave her in the cave on Antar to go to the base. And he had waited quite impatiently to hold her again, to confirm that she was all right when they had finally gotten underway in space. Worrying about someone other than himself was something completely new to him. It was stressful, and heartbreaking, and wonderful all at once. He had never felt anything like it before … and realized he didn’t want to live without it again.
The fact that someone cared that much about him did amazing things to him. Not to mention the fact that it was completely unsolicited and innocent. Mabyn just wanted someone to hold her and tell her everything would be okay. And all he wanted was to give that to her. If only, he thought.
After several moments of waiting for an answer and not receiving one, she gave up with a sad sigh. Her eyes swept around them and caught the red blood that had fallen from his ear, and had dried, resting on his jaw. The ball of fear grew again, doubling in size.
Her small finger came up to lightly touch the blood on his jaw and neck. “You’re hurt,” she said quietly.
Kyle sighed heavily, and shook his head. “I’m okay now.”
She nodded, and then leaned in to give his boo-boo a quick peck with her lips. “All better,” she murmured quietly. She missed his pained expression, wishing everything really was ‘all better.’
The scary woman who had yelled and hit Kyle before was walking behind him now, in full view for Mabyn. She didn’t like the woman … Maria. She was loud and scary and impulsive.
Mabyn leaned closer, in a whisper of secrecy. “Are they bad?” she asked.
Kyle thought for a moment.
“I don’t think so,” he answered honestly. When he read her skeptical look, he continued, “We have to trust them, Mabyn. It’ll be okay. They won’t hurt you.” He leaned closer, whispering just for her to hear, “I won’t let them.”
She nodded, seemingly content with his explanation, and closed her eyes as she laid her head on his shoulder.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“How’s she doing?”
The voice to his left startled him, and he turned quickly to its source. Isabel.
He couldn’t tell by her face if she was still upset with him. Assuming she was, but taking her initiating conversation as a good sign, he responded, “Yeah, she’ll be alright. I think everything’s catching up with her, ya know?”
She nodded, and sat down next to him.
No one else had said a word to Kyle since his little speech in the desert, before Maria and Courtney knocked him unconscious and tied everyone up. They simply ignored him, which Isabel could tell was a harsher punishment for Kyle than actually yelling at him. He was always the center of attention, social and personable. Being publicly isolated was torture.
She eyed the room that they were now waiting in. It was large, with a lofty cave ceiling. Torches adorned the walls, much like the tunnels that they had traveled to get there. There were rugs on the floor, and a table with chairs around it. It seemed to be a private room, maybe a den or office of some kind. Courtney and Maria had left shortly after bringing them here, and had told them to wait. They were bringing someone to question them. Who, Isabel didn’t know. Hopefully it was someone that could explain why that Maria person was so God damn intolerable.
Isabel attempted to get comfortable while sitting at the edge of the room on the floor, near Kyle and Mabyn, who was now sleeping in his lap with her head resting on his shoulder.
The others were at the table or scattered around the room.
Michael was seated at the table stoned faced, as usual.
Max was next to him, preoccupied with his own thoughts as he was staring off into space, as usual.
Bo and Koen were quietly talking about weapons she assumed, if their motioning to the laser guns in their hands was any indication. They stuck together, as usual.
Rylie was in a far corner organizing their survival gear and supplies, as usual.
Alex helping her, offering his abilities and services anywhere he could, as usual.
Mabyn sought comfort where she could get it, as usual.
And poor Kyle was bearing the brunt of the imposed rejection. She felt compelled to end it soon … now.
“Yeah, I can imagine how hard this all must be for her,” Isabel said, while lifting her hand to lightly stroke the small girl’s hair, who was seemingly asleep in Kyle’s arms.
Kyle nodded.
He glanced down at the small girl snoozing lightly, and then up to Isabel. Their eyes met, and his throat tightened in repentance. He wanted to make it right with her, considering she was the only one even looking at him, much less talking to him. And it was the way she was looking at him … with expectant eyes, waiting for him to say something. An explanation, a plea of forgiveness, a promise that it would never happen again.
Once again, he was a deer caught in headlights. He had never had to explain himself to anyone before. He was never expected to, not that he would if it had been. But now, not only did he feel obligated to, but he wanted to. He wanted to explain and plead and promise. He felt compelled to say something … anything, and all that came out was a pitiful, “I’m sorry.”
Isabel looked at him for a moment, gauging his sincerity, and then nodded, saying, “Good.”
Kyle smiled self-consciously, wondering if that was all she was going to say. Surely Princess Isabel had more to say than ‘Good.’
“You were just saying what everyone was thinking,” she said offhandedly, chalking up the incident as extraneous … much to Kyle’s surprise. But to Isabel, he had apologized and that should be enough … at least for her. He was making it up now, holding and comforting Mabyn.
It still astounded her how different he was now. It had been years since they had spent any amount of time together when they were Mabyn’s age, when she and Max, Michael, and Kyle would play in the Palace courtyard and garden for hours. Back when they still remembered what it was like to be young and carefree and innocent.
In her opinion, Kyle was forgiven … as long as he kept Mabyn in mind. If he didn’t realize how much he affected her, he should now. Isabel suspected he had had an affinity of affection to Mabyn as Mabyn had for him, but he didn’t realize it, or at least acknowledge it. But now it was painfully clear … she needed him, he needed her. And it seemed as though he wasn’t going to split when things got rough. Thank God for small miracles.
“Well, that’s the problem,” he said. “I always say what I think. Or say without thinking. My mouth gets away from me, and I get in trouble.”
She nodded.
“Yeah … but everyone has their bad habits, right?” She gave a sideways glance in his direction, with a small smile. “No one’s perfect.”
His eyebrows rose. “No one?” he asked.
She laughed, and rolled her eyes.
“No one. Not even me.”
Astounded, Kyle asked, “Is the Princess Isabel admitting that she has flaws?”
She shook her head in mockery, ignoring his question.
“Well,” he continued. “I better go check for flying pigs.”
“Ha, ha. Very funny,” she said. “Just for that … I’m not telling you what they are.” She crossed her arms over her chest and lifted her chin flippantly, with a twinkle in her eye.
Shifting Mabyn up further on his chest to maintain a comfortable position, Kyle asked, “Oh, please … you have to tell me what these so-called ‘bad habits’ are. You can’t just leave me hanging.”
Her toothy grin emblazed her face. “You don’t wanna know.”
“Oh … yes I do,” he nodded emphatically.
She sighed dramatically.
“Fine … but I swear, if you breathe a word of this to anyone, I will kill you.”
“Noted,” he said quickly, listening intently. He scooted over closer to her.
“Well …” she started. Isabel hoped he or anyone else couldn’t tell she was blushing. It didn’t matter what or who she was, talking about this kind of thing with anyone was embarrassing. Not to mention the fact that she was … flirting, with Kyle no less.
“I guess my biggest flaw is that …”
Her words hung in the air, and Kyle watched her intently as she struggled to find the words.
“Yeah?” he prompted.
She glanced around the group cautiously, and Kyle followed her lead, making sure no one was overhearing.
Isabel motioned with her index finger for him to lean in, and when he was mere inches from her she whispered, “I bite my nails.”
He rolled his eyes and groaned dramatically. “Oh come on. You’ve got something better than that!”
She laughed.
“Nope,” she said. “That’s about it.”
“Pitiful.”
“What about you? Surely you have more flaws than over-speaking.”
“Oh yeah,” he said laughingly. “I got plenty of them.”
“Well?” she encouraged.
Getting comfortable in his seat on the floor, he said, “Alright.” He brought his right hand up, keeping his left on Mabyn. “One,” he said, extending his index finger. “I’m short.”
“You are not short,” Isabel interrupted.
“Believe me, I am. Two – I have an affinity of making an ass out of myself in whatever way possible.”
She laughed good-humoredly.
“Three, I’m … not smart,” he ventured hesitantly. ‘Stupid’ was just too harsh of a word, even for him to say.
She turned to him, with a questioning look. “What?”
His shoulders sagged, suddenly wishing he didn’t have to explain himself. “Oh come on. You of all people should know I’m not the sharpest crayon in the box.”
Isabel sobered, reading how serious Kyle was. She lowered her voice, asking gently, “What are you talking about?”
He shrugged. “Don’t you remember grade school, when we had that same tutor, Dr. Chasting?” He stared off in front of him, avoiding her eyes.
“Oh Kyle, you can’t take anything he said to heart. He was a prick. Everyone hated him.”
Kyle nodded.
“Yeah, but he was right.”
“No. He wasn’t.”
He chanced a look at her, and she continued.
“I remember what he used to say to you in front of the class. He was always making an example of you, and everyone would laugh. And you would try and play it off.” She shook her head in the memory, and frowned sadly when he nodded. “But you know what else I remember? I remember that it would take all my self-control not to say something to him. To put him in his place. He was an awful, awful man who took pleasure in belittling children. Just because you struggled a little bit in math doesn’t mean you’re stupid.”
He eyed her thoughtfully. Kyle could tell she was telling the truth; she wasn’t laying it on thick just for his benefit. It wasn’t her style. She was being completely honest with him. He always knew how caring she was, even when she didn’t. She had just become an expert at hiding it. But in that moment, he felt like he was ten years old again, hopelessly and completely infatuated with her.
And he had the distinct desire to kiss her.
He nodded, taking a serrated breath.
“Okay, now that I’ve bared my soul, what about you?” he ventured quietly.
She dropped her eyes, self consciously, and nodded.
“Yeah, I … I have a few insecurities myself.” She played with her clothing nervously.
He shifted so that they were now shoulder-to-shoulder, eye-to-eye, breath-to-breath.
“Well?”
“I guess … I’m afraid.”
“Afraid? Of what?”
She brought her eyes up to his, hoping that she wouldn’t find a condescending look, and relieved when all she found was sympathy.
“Of everything,” she answered softly.
He thought for a moment. “Besides our present situation,” he said, motioning to the room and condition they were in, “what could you possibly be afraid of?”
She shrugged heavily.
“You know me Kyle. I’m not like other girls. I never was. Like you said, I’m a Princess. I don’t have a normal life or normal concerns. I never have.” She hung her head as she said softly, “But I’m still a girl, just like any other. And I get scared … of getting hurt.”
He shifted Mabyn to his right side so that he could sling his left arm over Isabel’s shoulder.
“Have you been? Hurt, I mean.”
She shook her head.
“No. I made sure I didn’t.”
Her meaning clicked. “Oh yeah. Ice Princess,” he said under his breath, reminiscently.
She turned to him, with a questioning look in her eye. “The who?”
He laughed nervously. “Well, that’s what everyone called you back in the day. Ice Princess. Cause, you know … you were so … cold.” He shrugged helplessly, hoping she wouldn’t get the wrong idea, or mad.
All she did was roll her eyes.
“I guess I deserve that.”
She of all people knew how she was, and she had to admit she was cold. But she had to be. She had to be strong and independent. She had to be the resilient Princess and withstand public criticism and speculation. Isabel was always fending off unwanted attention from men who only wanted her because of her title – not because of who she was, but what she was. She had to make sure that no one broke her or scarred her. She had to protect her heart.
And until now, she was perfectly fine with that life. Keeping insignificant, trivial friendships and relationships was a sensible cover. No one could say she was isolated; she surrounded herself with people. Not that any of them had meant anything to her. Not that I meant anything to them, she thought. She enjoyed the anonymity among her ‘friends.’ They didn’t know her, and she wanted it that way. She had to protect herself … protect her heart.
But in the end, she was beginning to see that she had missed out on so much, and she hadn’t even known. She not only kept the hurt away, but kept the joy away too.
Not that there was a whole lot of joy going on now, what with the royal survivors of Antar holed up in a cave on the dune planet of Cantu, awaiting their impending doom.
But she was finding a little joy sitting here, in Kyle’s arm, with Mabyn quietly sleeping. His eyes were so kind. That was one thing she had to give him – he was so damn lovable. Even after the ‘incident,’ she couldn’t help but want to be around him. He was always so comical and friendly. If nothing else, he was such a great friend, loyal and reliable.
“No, you don’t deserve it. You deserve a lot better, Isabel.”
She looked at him with an inspecting look. Was he for real? She still wasn’t sure.
“Oh no?” she asked. “Third grade. Remember the Leanna incident?”
“Leanna incident?”
She nodded self-deprecatingly.
“She was new and wanted to be my friend … to the point of giving me gifts and doing my homework for me.” When she saw him nod to go on – still clueless, she continued, “I spread the rumor that she had –”
“That she had lice, and no one talked to her for a month.”
She nodded again.
“You remember,” she said, more as a statement than a question.
“Yeah. So … she didn’t have lice?”
“Nope.”
“Huh,” he said, stunned silent.
“Like I said,” Isabel continued. “Ice Princess.”
“Well, you had your reasons,” he reasoned.
She gave him a, incredulous look. “I was a bitch.”
He laughed.
“Yeah, well. We all have our moments.”
God is a comedian playing to an audience too afraid to laugh.
~Voltaire
~Voltaire
-
truman11883
- Enthusiastic Roswellian
- Posts: 69
- Joined: Fri Apr 04, 2003 8:45 pm
- Location: St. Louis, Missouri, USA, Planet Earth
Ben – Hebrew; Son
Part 13
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Their footsteps were hard and relentless against the clay and stone tunnel floor. Both young women turned several corners, headed to a large office that held their leader. They walked in silence, leaving each to her own thoughts. Maria’s eyes were a rigid green. Her shoulders were held back, giving her an air of confidence. Courtney walked beside her somewhat withdrawn and disconnected, in deep thought.
“So, what do we tell Aron?” Courtney asked as she curled a piece of her blonde hair behind her ear.
“The truth.”
Courtney rolled her eyes at Maria’s bluntness. Of course they were going to tell him the truth. It never crossed her mind to tell him any differently. For everything that Aron had done for the citizens of Cantu, Aron deserved nothing but complete respect, honesty, and loyalty. Courtney had been more than willing to put forth her efforts and support when Aron had asked for volunteers. She was still wondering, though, why she had to be partnered with Maria.
She chanced a look out of the corner of her eye at Maria. The girl was raw. So much anger and resentment, and she was only eighteen years only. She made Courtney nervous … more so than she would like to admit. Half the time she was rationalizing their situation, attempting to talk Maria down from a dangerous decision that could mean their death or worse. They were so different it was frightening.
She hadn’t necessarily been surprised when Maria knocked Kyle out before they had even a chance to announce their position to the small group, or gave them a chance to surrender. Nor had she been surprised with Maria’s response to the group’s claim that they were Antar royalty. She herself had doubted their claim. But violence was always her last resort. The opposite was Maria, who had a reputation of shooting first and asking questions later. Courtney had learned quickly that, with Maria, nothing was certain. Except of course her loyalty. If she was nothing else, she was an outstanding partner and friend. Even despite the fact that to date she had probably taken ten years off of Courtney’s life.
“Yes I know that,” she said. “But, how are we going to tell him? He’ll want details, Maria.”
“What’s your point?” Maria asked off-handedly. She had too many things on her mind to give Courtney’s idle questions any real thought.
“Well, for starters, how about why were in Zamora in the first place? Then there’s the fact that you injured a member of their party. Maria, how exactly do you plan to explain our discovery, analysis, detainment, briefing, and transportation of the royal survivors of Antar?” She illustrated each point by counting them off on her fingers. When Maria continued to walk without responding, she ventured, “Are you going to tell him that you nearly gave the one a concussion?”
“If he asks.”
“If he asks. Fine, whatever.”
Maria sighed. “Courtney, there is some information you do not offer. If they ask, you answer truthfully. But you do not offer it. You’re a soldier. There is protocol for everything, especially scouting missions. You get an assignment. You’re briefed on your objective. You fulfill that mission to the highest standard you can. Any and all question come later, when there’s actually time to think them through.”
Courtney nodded, considering her point.
“I may have acted rashly back there. But it was in good faith that I had to protect the survivors of Cantu. For all we know that group back there is nothing more than a faction of Seroan soldiers trying to infiltrate our headquarters. While that might be very unlikely, I still needed to establish the fact that they are under our control. That we are in charge.”
“So I guess arguing with Michael ‘til you were blue in the face was just a job perk?”
Maria smiled at Courtney’s joke. “Something like that.”
They turned a corner, and entered the last tunnel leading to Aron’s main office.
“Maria, do you think they’re telling the truth? Do you think they’re from Antar?”
Maria stopped walking in the middle of the tunnel. Their short trek to Aron’s office was almost over, and she was quite anxious to see how Aron would respond to news that a man claiming to be the Prince of Antar had landed on Cantu. But Courtney’s uncertainty was palpable. She had never really questioned or argued with Maria before, at least, as far as Maria could remember. Courtney was a steady, reliable partner, offering what she had and never complaining about what she didn’t.
The fact that she was questioning right now startled Maria slightly. But more so, it balanced her. For the first time her partner was not accepting Maria’s answer. She wanted a detailed analysis, she wanted proof, she wanted justification. Courtney wanted to be an active player in their missions … in their partnership.
About damn time, she thought.
“I don’t know. That’s not really for me to decide.”
“What do you think will happen to them if Aron says they aren’t?”
Maria thought for a minute, considering Courtney’s question. In all likelihood, Aron would have them executed. After all, it was acceptable given the conditions. But Maria found herself silently asking if it would really be justified. There had already been so many deaths. Would a few more really matter?
“If they are lying, they are supposed to be executed.”
“I know,” Courtney whispered. “But do you think he’ll do it?”
After slight hesitation, Maria shook her head. “No, I don’t think he would. That’s not the kind of leader Aron is. He’s not a tyrant. He’s not Khivar. If he thinks they’re lying, he’ll probably incarcerate them; use them as leverage or something. They just don’t seem the type, ya know? They don’t come off as dangerous assassins. And, take into consideration they have a nine-year-old child with them …” she drifted off.
“Yeah,” Courtney nodded. “What do you think happened to them? Why are they here?”
“Michael said they were escaping Khivar,” Maria offered weakly. She honestly had no clue. Who in their right mind would want to come to Cantu? Especially now?
Suddenly agitated and nervous, Courtney suggested, “Maybe after the raid, Khivar hit Antar.”
Maria nodded. “I was thinking the same thing.”
“The Festival would have been recently, right?”
Maria nodded, following her reasoning. “Yeah, and everyone on Antar is there. And this year, Khivar was invited.”
“Perfect opportunity,” Courtney mumbled.
“But the King and Queen aren’t with them.”
“So, they’re either still on Antar or …”
“Or they’re dead.”
The two soldiers stared at each other. Both had honestly thought that their lives couldn’t have gotten much worse after the raid of Cantu. Seems that Fate had it in for the small dune planet.
“Oh God,” Courtney said under her breath, dropping her head and closing her eyes at the revelation.
Maria put one hand on her partner’s shoulder in support. “Courtney, listen. We don’t know anything yet. This could all just be a big misunderstanding.”
“Misunderstanding?” she questioned, raising her sorrowful eyes to Maria’s. “What is there to misunderstand, Maria? It makes perfect sense. Khivar wouldn’t stop after he had Cantu. He didn’t stop. He went straight on to Antar.”
Maria didn’t really have anything to say. She knew that Courtney was probably right. In all likelihood, the King and the Queen were dead. If they had been alive, they would have accompanied the Antar group and their children to Cantu.
Sighing slightly and having no words to comfort her partner, Maria motioned to the door with her head. “Come on. Aron’s waiting.”
Courtney nodded trying to relinquish the jumbled emotions now racing through her system.
Maria knocked twice, two hard raps on the heavy door, and waited.
The wooden door opened slightly, and the two women were met by a face of a young boy. His eyes were blue and his face was tanned. He was probably no more than twelve, but looked several years older because of his height.
“Yes?”
“Reporting to Aron, mission status.”
The boy nodded and stepped back slightly, opening the door for the two soldiers to enter. Maria’s gun was still slung across her shoulders and back, and Courtney had done the same. They each stood side by side in the large room in front of a desk that held a flame lamp. The light was low in the room, but had just enough that Aron could read reports well enough.
Aron looked up from his papers and smiled.
“What have you got for me girls? Good news, I hope.”
Courtney and Maria exchanged a look, which did not go unnoticed by Aron.
“I guess that depends, sir.”
Aron’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern “How so?”
“We took prisoners.”
Aron’s brows went from crumpled to grazing his hairline quickly. “Prisoners? Seroan?”
“No sir. They said they were Antarian.”
He leaned back in his chair slightly, taking in the information. Antarian prisoners. That just didn’t sound right.
“What were they doing here? On Cantu?”
Another look was exchanged between the two women.
Neither could tell if Aron would actually believe the story. Not that they had made it up; it was, in fact, very real. Maria found herself thinking how ironic it was that the most unbelievable stories were often times the most factual.
Courtney spoke, her voice low and muffled by her anxiety. “They said they were escaping Khivar.”
Aron’s facial expression didn’t change, but behind his eyes the wheels were spinning quite rapidly. Khivar? Antar? Refugees? It couldn’t be … could it?
“How many are there?” His voice was tight with adrenaline. But it wasn’t the fearful adrenaline. This sensation running through his body was from anticipation – expectant, nervous adrenaline. It was the type that heated his blood, and sped his heart in preparation for something that he had anticipated for quite some time. Years in fact.
“Nine all together.”
“Nine. Are they well? Any injuries?”
Maria hesitated.
“Well, one may have a slight concussion.”
Courtney grinned internally. So Maria followed her own advice. Good to know, she noted. She might not have wanted to admit to that, and she hadn’t given Aron the full account of how Kyle got the ‘slight concussion.’ But she didn’t withhold information either. She was just answering Aron’s questions. In her own way, of course.
Aron nodded. Only one injury for evading Khivar and his men was pretty good considering the extent of damage Khivar did on Cantu. If their dune planet was any indication, Khivar must have torn Antar apart. Aron found himself thinking about Antar for the first time in years. If the prophecy was finally being fulfilled, the King was dead. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that fact. If it was true, if the survivors were who they said they were, Aron had lost his best friend to a tyrant. But in Philip’s death, Khivar would ultimately be conquered. Philip’s death was a catalyst for extraordinarily things to come. Aron could only hope that his death would not be in vain.
“Where are they now?”
“The office on the east wing.”
Aron stood from his chair.
“Ben?”
The boy from before entered the room from a side door that led to an adjacent, smaller room.
“I’m going to the east wing. Would you go and have Elizabeth meet me there, please?”
The boy nodded and ran off quickly.
Aron was a jumble of nerves. He hadn’t expected this to happen so … unexpectedly. He knew these events would transpire. He had known for eighteen, almost nineteen years. But over the course of time, the full implication of the prophecy had lost its impact. He had focused his energy on raising and training Elizabeth. And then recently, he had organized the survivors of Cantu. The fact that he could forget the impending death of the King of Antar unsettled him.
“What are you going to do?” Courtney asked quietly.
Aron brought his eyes up to the young women in front of them. In a voice that he hoped was reassuring, he said, “Question them. And you’re coming with me.”
Maria nodded and turned to follow Aron as he exited the office. Courtney did the same soon after.
To the three, the walk to the east wing seemed to take forever. Every step felt light and eager, but they couldn’t seem to walk fast enough. Their patience was wearing thin; Courtney and Maria anxious to see Aron’s reaction to the prisoners, Aron hopeful that all he had done over the years was enough.
They rounded the final corner, and saw Liz waiting for them outside the door. She looked up as she heard their footsteps, and cast a questioning glance at Aron, and then at Maria.
Aron answered her before she could voice her question. “Maria and Courtney took prisoners today. I wanted you to be here while I interrogate them.” She nodded without complaint or question.
Maria and Courtney retrieved their weapons from their backs and aimed them at the door and the unseen figures on the other side. Maria nodded at Courtney, who unlocked the door and opened it slowly. Maria entered first doing a quick sweep of the room to assure that no one had a weapon drawn in preparation. Satisfied, she stepped aside and Courtney, Aron, and finally Liz entered. Courtney and Maria kept their weapons handy, but downcast.
The nine Antarians looked up at the sound of the lock disengaging and the door opening.
Aron took a visual inventory of the group. Eight adults, and one child. All awake and alert, and staring at him as if trying to determine if he were an enemy or ally.
He put a tentative but welcoming smile on his face, and said, “Hello. I apologize for your wait. I came as soon as I was told you were here.” He couldn’t tell who was who with any certainty. But he had a pretty good idea that the Prince was the young man withdrawn from the group, leaning against the wall. The young man that held piercing eyes at Elizabeth. The young man that hadn’t lifted his gaze from her since she entered the room.
“Maria and Courtney tell me you’re from Antar. Is this true?”
Michael stepped forward. “Yes. We came here hoping to escape Khivar.”
Aron smiled. “And instead you were met with Maria. Not a fair trade, is it?” Maria enthusiastically rolled her eyes.
Aron’s joking eased the tension in the room considerably, most shoulders sagging in relief that he was welcoming them.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
She’s beautiful.
Those were the only two words Max could think in the few minutes since the mystery woman had entered the room. He was captivated and enthralled. She was intriguing and inspiring. She was everything he had hoped for and thought possible, and he hadn’t event talked to her yet.
It wasn’t just her physical beauty that entranced him, though. Yes, she was gorgeous. Dark, chocolate brown hair hanging low on her back in straight silky waves. Big, expressive brown eyes that she kept guarded, but held so much promise at the same time. Her thin waist and small stature were in direct conflict with her physical strength, he could tell. She seemed very strong. At least strong enough to wield the four-foot blade that she kept slung across her back.
Her physical beauty was only outdone by her presence, her authority … her aura. She was beautiful, inside and out. She may have been a soldier or warrior, but her heart was pure. She was untainted, even when her planet had been overrun and destroyed. She held no malice. Even now, looking at the new inhabitants of their secret cave, she was not planning on killing them, secretly formulating an attack. She instead studied them. She brought her eyes from one member to the next, reading them with her eyes, determining if they were friend or foe.
His heart stilled when her eyes fell on his. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think. All he saw were the large, brown eyes staring directly into his golden ones. The voices around him drifted off into a muffled blur, and he seemed to have his own silent conversation with the woman across the room. He wanted to fall into her, to know her, to learn everything about her there was to know. He didn’t even know her name, and yet he felt as though he knew her intimately, without exchanging any words.
And then the moment was broken when her eyes left his and landed on Isabel.
His lungs burned with the need for oxygen, and he hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath for quite so long. It had been so easy for her to move on, to not be stirred or absorbed by the connection that they had shared in those few moments. He had been moved beyond thought, and she had felt nothing. How stupid he must be to think she would feel anything for him. He chastised himself for jumping to conclusions. He didn’t know anything yet. Be Max vowed that he would … and soon.
The voices of the room began to filter back into his consciousness as he became aware of his surroundings.
“Let me introduce myself.” He extended a hand to Michael. “My name is Aron.” Max’s eyes flew to the older man now standing in front of Michael.
Michael shook his hand affably. “Michael. It’s good to meet you.”
Aron nodded and turned to his right. “I’m assuming you’ve already met Maria and Courtney.”
Everyone nodded, and Michael smirked. Maria glared.
Turning to his left, he put a hand on Liz’s shoulder, and said, “And this is Elizabeth. Another soldier in our camp.”
Michael nodded and then turned to his group. He began listing each member pointing as he went. “This is Bo and Koen, Rylie, Alex, that’s Kyle and Mabyn there, Isabel, and finally …”
Without another word, Aron stepped forward, and offered a hand to Max. “It’s an honor to meet you, Prince Maxwell.”
Everything went still at Aron’s words. Michael had not said anything to Aron about Max being the crowned Prince of Antar. He had just known. How was that possible? Had he once been to Antar and had seen them in a Festival or other occasion? Why hadn’t he said anything before? Why did the name Aron seem so familiar?
Max’s gaze never left Aron’s as he lifted his hand to Aron’s.
“Same to you, Aron. How long has it been?”
“Too long. You were two years old when I left.”
“Eighteen years is a long time,” Max said absently. “Father spoke of you often.”
Aron closed his eyes and lowered his head, nodding absently.
Everyone in the room except the two engaged in conversation was stunned silent. These two men had practically never met, and yet they knew each other quite well. It seemed impossible, and yet just another item on the list of recent impossibilities.
Aron asked the question that had been plaguing him since Maria and Courtney had informed him of their Antarian guests. “It was the Festival, wasn’t it?”
Max nodded.
With a regretful voice, Aron spoke. “We have much to talk about. But, I’m sure you are all hungry and tired, yes?”
When everyone agreed, Aron turned to Courtney and instructed her to have sleeping quarters prepared and meals delivered. She left quickly.
Aron spun to address the entire room. “I’m sure you have many questions and quite a story to tell, but you need to rest. Maria and Elizabeth will see you to your rooms.”
He left soon after, and the group of eleven left the office.
Minutes later, they entered the south wing that was primarily used as a dormitory.
Maria stopped at one door on the right side of the passageway, and opened it. There were two bunks, a small table, and a lamp illuminating the room. The beds were already made and there was a small bowl of fruit and a plate of breads and cheeses waiting. She instructed Bo and Koen as they entered the room that the next meal would be served in six hours in the dining hall, located in the north wing. “Just follow the herd,” she said.
Liz stopped soon after on the left, and opened the door to a similar room. Rylie and Alex entered and Liz gave them similar instructions about dinner. Both were too tired to question the sleeping arrangement, and were asleep before Liz closed the door behind them.
Maria offered the next room to Isabel, who was holding a sleeping Mabyn.
Isabel turned to Kyle. “Do you want to stay with her? She’ll want you when she wakes up. I can take the next room if you want.”
Kyle hesitated before saying, “Well, there’s two beds. How ‘bout you take one with Mabyn, and I take the other one? She’ll want you, too.”
Isabel nodded, both grateful and self-conscious. Sharing a room with Kyle? What does that mean? she couldn’t help but think.
At the same time, Liz opened the door to the final room. Michael entered quickly without a word and claimed a bed.
Max hesitated before entering. She was right in front of him now. He towered over her, but Max had the distinct confidence that she could break his arm or knock him unconscious with a blink of an eye. The knowledge was unusually inviting. Such a strong woman would usually dissuade a man in his romantic efforts. But for Max, it was more perplexing than unsettling. She was an enigma, and he wanted nothing more than to piece her puzzle together.
Her eyes were averted, but he could tell it was not out of fear or intimidation. But out of duty and obedience. Out of rank. He had been exposed as a Prince, and she was averting her gaze out of respect. And he wanted none of it.
“Elizabeth?” he ventured quietly.
“Yes, sire?” she asked. He cringed at the term.
He lifted his right hand and placed his right index finger below her chin, lifting her gaze to meet his. Her eyes were wide with surprise and expectation, and he had to actively fight the desire to run his thumb over her soft cheek and full lips.
“Please,” he said. “Call me Max.”
Part 13
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Their footsteps were hard and relentless against the clay and stone tunnel floor. Both young women turned several corners, headed to a large office that held their leader. They walked in silence, leaving each to her own thoughts. Maria’s eyes were a rigid green. Her shoulders were held back, giving her an air of confidence. Courtney walked beside her somewhat withdrawn and disconnected, in deep thought.
“So, what do we tell Aron?” Courtney asked as she curled a piece of her blonde hair behind her ear.
“The truth.”
Courtney rolled her eyes at Maria’s bluntness. Of course they were going to tell him the truth. It never crossed her mind to tell him any differently. For everything that Aron had done for the citizens of Cantu, Aron deserved nothing but complete respect, honesty, and loyalty. Courtney had been more than willing to put forth her efforts and support when Aron had asked for volunteers. She was still wondering, though, why she had to be partnered with Maria.
She chanced a look out of the corner of her eye at Maria. The girl was raw. So much anger and resentment, and she was only eighteen years only. She made Courtney nervous … more so than she would like to admit. Half the time she was rationalizing their situation, attempting to talk Maria down from a dangerous decision that could mean their death or worse. They were so different it was frightening.
She hadn’t necessarily been surprised when Maria knocked Kyle out before they had even a chance to announce their position to the small group, or gave them a chance to surrender. Nor had she been surprised with Maria’s response to the group’s claim that they were Antar royalty. She herself had doubted their claim. But violence was always her last resort. The opposite was Maria, who had a reputation of shooting first and asking questions later. Courtney had learned quickly that, with Maria, nothing was certain. Except of course her loyalty. If she was nothing else, she was an outstanding partner and friend. Even despite the fact that to date she had probably taken ten years off of Courtney’s life.
“Yes I know that,” she said. “But, how are we going to tell him? He’ll want details, Maria.”
“What’s your point?” Maria asked off-handedly. She had too many things on her mind to give Courtney’s idle questions any real thought.
“Well, for starters, how about why were in Zamora in the first place? Then there’s the fact that you injured a member of their party. Maria, how exactly do you plan to explain our discovery, analysis, detainment, briefing, and transportation of the royal survivors of Antar?” She illustrated each point by counting them off on her fingers. When Maria continued to walk without responding, she ventured, “Are you going to tell him that you nearly gave the one a concussion?”
“If he asks.”
“If he asks. Fine, whatever.”
Maria sighed. “Courtney, there is some information you do not offer. If they ask, you answer truthfully. But you do not offer it. You’re a soldier. There is protocol for everything, especially scouting missions. You get an assignment. You’re briefed on your objective. You fulfill that mission to the highest standard you can. Any and all question come later, when there’s actually time to think them through.”
Courtney nodded, considering her point.
“I may have acted rashly back there. But it was in good faith that I had to protect the survivors of Cantu. For all we know that group back there is nothing more than a faction of Seroan soldiers trying to infiltrate our headquarters. While that might be very unlikely, I still needed to establish the fact that they are under our control. That we are in charge.”
“So I guess arguing with Michael ‘til you were blue in the face was just a job perk?”
Maria smiled at Courtney’s joke. “Something like that.”
They turned a corner, and entered the last tunnel leading to Aron’s main office.
“Maria, do you think they’re telling the truth? Do you think they’re from Antar?”
Maria stopped walking in the middle of the tunnel. Their short trek to Aron’s office was almost over, and she was quite anxious to see how Aron would respond to news that a man claiming to be the Prince of Antar had landed on Cantu. But Courtney’s uncertainty was palpable. She had never really questioned or argued with Maria before, at least, as far as Maria could remember. Courtney was a steady, reliable partner, offering what she had and never complaining about what she didn’t.
The fact that she was questioning right now startled Maria slightly. But more so, it balanced her. For the first time her partner was not accepting Maria’s answer. She wanted a detailed analysis, she wanted proof, she wanted justification. Courtney wanted to be an active player in their missions … in their partnership.
About damn time, she thought.
“I don’t know. That’s not really for me to decide.”
“What do you think will happen to them if Aron says they aren’t?”
Maria thought for a minute, considering Courtney’s question. In all likelihood, Aron would have them executed. After all, it was acceptable given the conditions. But Maria found herself silently asking if it would really be justified. There had already been so many deaths. Would a few more really matter?
“If they are lying, they are supposed to be executed.”
“I know,” Courtney whispered. “But do you think he’ll do it?”
After slight hesitation, Maria shook her head. “No, I don’t think he would. That’s not the kind of leader Aron is. He’s not a tyrant. He’s not Khivar. If he thinks they’re lying, he’ll probably incarcerate them; use them as leverage or something. They just don’t seem the type, ya know? They don’t come off as dangerous assassins. And, take into consideration they have a nine-year-old child with them …” she drifted off.
“Yeah,” Courtney nodded. “What do you think happened to them? Why are they here?”
“Michael said they were escaping Khivar,” Maria offered weakly. She honestly had no clue. Who in their right mind would want to come to Cantu? Especially now?
Suddenly agitated and nervous, Courtney suggested, “Maybe after the raid, Khivar hit Antar.”
Maria nodded. “I was thinking the same thing.”
“The Festival would have been recently, right?”
Maria nodded, following her reasoning. “Yeah, and everyone on Antar is there. And this year, Khivar was invited.”
“Perfect opportunity,” Courtney mumbled.
“But the King and Queen aren’t with them.”
“So, they’re either still on Antar or …”
“Or they’re dead.”
The two soldiers stared at each other. Both had honestly thought that their lives couldn’t have gotten much worse after the raid of Cantu. Seems that Fate had it in for the small dune planet.
“Oh God,” Courtney said under her breath, dropping her head and closing her eyes at the revelation.
Maria put one hand on her partner’s shoulder in support. “Courtney, listen. We don’t know anything yet. This could all just be a big misunderstanding.”
“Misunderstanding?” she questioned, raising her sorrowful eyes to Maria’s. “What is there to misunderstand, Maria? It makes perfect sense. Khivar wouldn’t stop after he had Cantu. He didn’t stop. He went straight on to Antar.”
Maria didn’t really have anything to say. She knew that Courtney was probably right. In all likelihood, the King and the Queen were dead. If they had been alive, they would have accompanied the Antar group and their children to Cantu.
Sighing slightly and having no words to comfort her partner, Maria motioned to the door with her head. “Come on. Aron’s waiting.”
Courtney nodded trying to relinquish the jumbled emotions now racing through her system.
Maria knocked twice, two hard raps on the heavy door, and waited.
The wooden door opened slightly, and the two women were met by a face of a young boy. His eyes were blue and his face was tanned. He was probably no more than twelve, but looked several years older because of his height.
“Yes?”
“Reporting to Aron, mission status.”
The boy nodded and stepped back slightly, opening the door for the two soldiers to enter. Maria’s gun was still slung across her shoulders and back, and Courtney had done the same. They each stood side by side in the large room in front of a desk that held a flame lamp. The light was low in the room, but had just enough that Aron could read reports well enough.
Aron looked up from his papers and smiled.
“What have you got for me girls? Good news, I hope.”
Courtney and Maria exchanged a look, which did not go unnoticed by Aron.
“I guess that depends, sir.”
Aron’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern “How so?”
“We took prisoners.”
Aron’s brows went from crumpled to grazing his hairline quickly. “Prisoners? Seroan?”
“No sir. They said they were Antarian.”
He leaned back in his chair slightly, taking in the information. Antarian prisoners. That just didn’t sound right.
“What were they doing here? On Cantu?”
Another look was exchanged between the two women.
Neither could tell if Aron would actually believe the story. Not that they had made it up; it was, in fact, very real. Maria found herself thinking how ironic it was that the most unbelievable stories were often times the most factual.
Courtney spoke, her voice low and muffled by her anxiety. “They said they were escaping Khivar.”
Aron’s facial expression didn’t change, but behind his eyes the wheels were spinning quite rapidly. Khivar? Antar? Refugees? It couldn’t be … could it?
“How many are there?” His voice was tight with adrenaline. But it wasn’t the fearful adrenaline. This sensation running through his body was from anticipation – expectant, nervous adrenaline. It was the type that heated his blood, and sped his heart in preparation for something that he had anticipated for quite some time. Years in fact.
“Nine all together.”
“Nine. Are they well? Any injuries?”
Maria hesitated.
“Well, one may have a slight concussion.”
Courtney grinned internally. So Maria followed her own advice. Good to know, she noted. She might not have wanted to admit to that, and she hadn’t given Aron the full account of how Kyle got the ‘slight concussion.’ But she didn’t withhold information either. She was just answering Aron’s questions. In her own way, of course.
Aron nodded. Only one injury for evading Khivar and his men was pretty good considering the extent of damage Khivar did on Cantu. If their dune planet was any indication, Khivar must have torn Antar apart. Aron found himself thinking about Antar for the first time in years. If the prophecy was finally being fulfilled, the King was dead. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that fact. If it was true, if the survivors were who they said they were, Aron had lost his best friend to a tyrant. But in Philip’s death, Khivar would ultimately be conquered. Philip’s death was a catalyst for extraordinarily things to come. Aron could only hope that his death would not be in vain.
“Where are they now?”
“The office on the east wing.”
Aron stood from his chair.
“Ben?”
The boy from before entered the room from a side door that led to an adjacent, smaller room.
“I’m going to the east wing. Would you go and have Elizabeth meet me there, please?”
The boy nodded and ran off quickly.
Aron was a jumble of nerves. He hadn’t expected this to happen so … unexpectedly. He knew these events would transpire. He had known for eighteen, almost nineteen years. But over the course of time, the full implication of the prophecy had lost its impact. He had focused his energy on raising and training Elizabeth. And then recently, he had organized the survivors of Cantu. The fact that he could forget the impending death of the King of Antar unsettled him.
“What are you going to do?” Courtney asked quietly.
Aron brought his eyes up to the young women in front of them. In a voice that he hoped was reassuring, he said, “Question them. And you’re coming with me.”
Maria nodded and turned to follow Aron as he exited the office. Courtney did the same soon after.
To the three, the walk to the east wing seemed to take forever. Every step felt light and eager, but they couldn’t seem to walk fast enough. Their patience was wearing thin; Courtney and Maria anxious to see Aron’s reaction to the prisoners, Aron hopeful that all he had done over the years was enough.
They rounded the final corner, and saw Liz waiting for them outside the door. She looked up as she heard their footsteps, and cast a questioning glance at Aron, and then at Maria.
Aron answered her before she could voice her question. “Maria and Courtney took prisoners today. I wanted you to be here while I interrogate them.” She nodded without complaint or question.
Maria and Courtney retrieved their weapons from their backs and aimed them at the door and the unseen figures on the other side. Maria nodded at Courtney, who unlocked the door and opened it slowly. Maria entered first doing a quick sweep of the room to assure that no one had a weapon drawn in preparation. Satisfied, she stepped aside and Courtney, Aron, and finally Liz entered. Courtney and Maria kept their weapons handy, but downcast.
The nine Antarians looked up at the sound of the lock disengaging and the door opening.
Aron took a visual inventory of the group. Eight adults, and one child. All awake and alert, and staring at him as if trying to determine if he were an enemy or ally.
He put a tentative but welcoming smile on his face, and said, “Hello. I apologize for your wait. I came as soon as I was told you were here.” He couldn’t tell who was who with any certainty. But he had a pretty good idea that the Prince was the young man withdrawn from the group, leaning against the wall. The young man that held piercing eyes at Elizabeth. The young man that hadn’t lifted his gaze from her since she entered the room.
“Maria and Courtney tell me you’re from Antar. Is this true?”
Michael stepped forward. “Yes. We came here hoping to escape Khivar.”
Aron smiled. “And instead you were met with Maria. Not a fair trade, is it?” Maria enthusiastically rolled her eyes.
Aron’s joking eased the tension in the room considerably, most shoulders sagging in relief that he was welcoming them.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
She’s beautiful.
Those were the only two words Max could think in the few minutes since the mystery woman had entered the room. He was captivated and enthralled. She was intriguing and inspiring. She was everything he had hoped for and thought possible, and he hadn’t event talked to her yet.
It wasn’t just her physical beauty that entranced him, though. Yes, she was gorgeous. Dark, chocolate brown hair hanging low on her back in straight silky waves. Big, expressive brown eyes that she kept guarded, but held so much promise at the same time. Her thin waist and small stature were in direct conflict with her physical strength, he could tell. She seemed very strong. At least strong enough to wield the four-foot blade that she kept slung across her back.
Her physical beauty was only outdone by her presence, her authority … her aura. She was beautiful, inside and out. She may have been a soldier or warrior, but her heart was pure. She was untainted, even when her planet had been overrun and destroyed. She held no malice. Even now, looking at the new inhabitants of their secret cave, she was not planning on killing them, secretly formulating an attack. She instead studied them. She brought her eyes from one member to the next, reading them with her eyes, determining if they were friend or foe.
His heart stilled when her eyes fell on his. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think. All he saw were the large, brown eyes staring directly into his golden ones. The voices around him drifted off into a muffled blur, and he seemed to have his own silent conversation with the woman across the room. He wanted to fall into her, to know her, to learn everything about her there was to know. He didn’t even know her name, and yet he felt as though he knew her intimately, without exchanging any words.
And then the moment was broken when her eyes left his and landed on Isabel.
His lungs burned with the need for oxygen, and he hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath for quite so long. It had been so easy for her to move on, to not be stirred or absorbed by the connection that they had shared in those few moments. He had been moved beyond thought, and she had felt nothing. How stupid he must be to think she would feel anything for him. He chastised himself for jumping to conclusions. He didn’t know anything yet. Be Max vowed that he would … and soon.
The voices of the room began to filter back into his consciousness as he became aware of his surroundings.
“Let me introduce myself.” He extended a hand to Michael. “My name is Aron.” Max’s eyes flew to the older man now standing in front of Michael.
Michael shook his hand affably. “Michael. It’s good to meet you.”
Aron nodded and turned to his right. “I’m assuming you’ve already met Maria and Courtney.”
Everyone nodded, and Michael smirked. Maria glared.
Turning to his left, he put a hand on Liz’s shoulder, and said, “And this is Elizabeth. Another soldier in our camp.”
Michael nodded and then turned to his group. He began listing each member pointing as he went. “This is Bo and Koen, Rylie, Alex, that’s Kyle and Mabyn there, Isabel, and finally …”
Without another word, Aron stepped forward, and offered a hand to Max. “It’s an honor to meet you, Prince Maxwell.”
Everything went still at Aron’s words. Michael had not said anything to Aron about Max being the crowned Prince of Antar. He had just known. How was that possible? Had he once been to Antar and had seen them in a Festival or other occasion? Why hadn’t he said anything before? Why did the name Aron seem so familiar?
Max’s gaze never left Aron’s as he lifted his hand to Aron’s.
“Same to you, Aron. How long has it been?”
“Too long. You were two years old when I left.”
“Eighteen years is a long time,” Max said absently. “Father spoke of you often.”
Aron closed his eyes and lowered his head, nodding absently.
Everyone in the room except the two engaged in conversation was stunned silent. These two men had practically never met, and yet they knew each other quite well. It seemed impossible, and yet just another item on the list of recent impossibilities.
Aron asked the question that had been plaguing him since Maria and Courtney had informed him of their Antarian guests. “It was the Festival, wasn’t it?”
Max nodded.
With a regretful voice, Aron spoke. “We have much to talk about. But, I’m sure you are all hungry and tired, yes?”
When everyone agreed, Aron turned to Courtney and instructed her to have sleeping quarters prepared and meals delivered. She left quickly.
Aron spun to address the entire room. “I’m sure you have many questions and quite a story to tell, but you need to rest. Maria and Elizabeth will see you to your rooms.”
He left soon after, and the group of eleven left the office.
Minutes later, they entered the south wing that was primarily used as a dormitory.
Maria stopped at one door on the right side of the passageway, and opened it. There were two bunks, a small table, and a lamp illuminating the room. The beds were already made and there was a small bowl of fruit and a plate of breads and cheeses waiting. She instructed Bo and Koen as they entered the room that the next meal would be served in six hours in the dining hall, located in the north wing. “Just follow the herd,” she said.
Liz stopped soon after on the left, and opened the door to a similar room. Rylie and Alex entered and Liz gave them similar instructions about dinner. Both were too tired to question the sleeping arrangement, and were asleep before Liz closed the door behind them.
Maria offered the next room to Isabel, who was holding a sleeping Mabyn.
Isabel turned to Kyle. “Do you want to stay with her? She’ll want you when she wakes up. I can take the next room if you want.”
Kyle hesitated before saying, “Well, there’s two beds. How ‘bout you take one with Mabyn, and I take the other one? She’ll want you, too.”
Isabel nodded, both grateful and self-conscious. Sharing a room with Kyle? What does that mean? she couldn’t help but think.
At the same time, Liz opened the door to the final room. Michael entered quickly without a word and claimed a bed.
Max hesitated before entering. She was right in front of him now. He towered over her, but Max had the distinct confidence that she could break his arm or knock him unconscious with a blink of an eye. The knowledge was unusually inviting. Such a strong woman would usually dissuade a man in his romantic efforts. But for Max, it was more perplexing than unsettling. She was an enigma, and he wanted nothing more than to piece her puzzle together.
Her eyes were averted, but he could tell it was not out of fear or intimidation. But out of duty and obedience. Out of rank. He had been exposed as a Prince, and she was averting her gaze out of respect. And he wanted none of it.
“Elizabeth?” he ventured quietly.
“Yes, sire?” she asked. He cringed at the term.
He lifted his right hand and placed his right index finger below her chin, lifting her gaze to meet his. Her eyes were wide with surprise and expectation, and he had to actively fight the desire to run his thumb over her soft cheek and full lips.
“Please,” he said. “Call me Max.”
God is a comedian playing to an audience too afraid to laugh.
~Voltaire
~Voltaire
-
truman11883
- Enthusiastic Roswellian
- Posts: 69
- Joined: Fri Apr 04, 2003 8:45 pm
- Location: St. Louis, Missouri, USA, Planet Earth
Part 14
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The door shut behind him with a soft thud and the hallway was filled with silence. Maria nodded goodbye and left silently towards her room.
The empty hall was filled with soft light from torches that hung from the walls. No one was out walking the tunnels in the south wing, either sleeping or out training. All was quiet. Except of course for Liz.
She turned slightly from the door, staring off into space for several moments. Her mind was jumbled with questions and emotions, something that, over the years, she had learned to impede. No, her mind was anything but quiet.
She had never felt so unsettles in all her life. One moment she was teaching a sword class to new recruits, and the next she’s confronted with the Prince of Antar, who – if she wasn’t mistaken – had hit on her.
Liz supposed she should be flattered. After all, Maxwell was certainly a handsome, suave, charismatic man who was known throughout the Rylan system as being youthfully attractive and engaging. He certainly had won over Aron quickly. It had taken all of thirty seconds for them to get friendly and reacquainted.
That had not been the most surprising event, however.
Liz had investigated the small group of visitors when she had first entered the room. Needless to say, she had not been entirely convinced that they were who they had claimed to be, so she had examined them; she had read them without their knowledge. Perhaps it was unorthodox for her to use her powers without consent. But few things had been ordinary lately, and Liz had felt obligated to protect Aron and the other Cantu survivors.
She had used their eyes to read them. Liz rarely ever used such a tactic; it always opened such a strong connection. But she couldn’t very well have gone up to each individual in the room and touch them. And as she had hoped, all of the Antarians had been oblivious to the test and truthful about their origins. She had seen their hardships, their escape, their pain. Flashes of screams and guns, blood and carnage.
Liz had spent several extra minutes with the little girl, making sure that she would sleep easier that night. She was certain that the memory of her dead mother would haunt the girl’s dreams, and Liz planted pleasant, somnolent thoughts and soon Mabyn had fallen asleep. She really was a beautiful child, and Liz had felt compelled to help her transition into the new planet, even if the little girl never knew.
Everyone had passed the ‘test’ that Liz had administered. Some images were haunting, some were peaceful, some were lovely and some were anything but.
She could feel their relief when Aron had accepted them.
She could feel their hope at a fresh start and a possible retaliation against Khivar sometime in the future. They wanted Khivar dead, which was fine with her.
She could feel their exhaustion and vulnerability from their ordeal.
And she had felt the emotions of the Prince.
Liz wasn’t entirely certain what all of them were. So many of them were completely foreign, having never felt anything close to those nameless passions. Liz was a soldier, a trained killer. She was in control, confident, and calculating. She was everything that Aron had trained her to be.
And with one look into the Prince, her walls had crumbled around her.
Liz swallowed hard, and walked slowly to her room. Her sandals made silent steps on the clay and rock floor.
He she was strong and fearless, which was not an incorrect assessment.
She was strong, Liz wasn’t afraid to admit it. She had worked endless hours on her physical and mental strength: running, yoga, lifting, and meditation. She trained with several different weapons. Laser guns, blades and swords, even chemicals and explosives. Liz knew the ins and outs of every weapon to her disposal, and then some. She knew twelve different ways to kill a man with her bare hands, and could probably create twelve more if she had to, or wanted to. She wasn’t afraid to fight or battle. The life of a soldier wasn’t what she lived for, but it was what she had prepared for. And she was more than good at it.
He thought that she was inspiring.
She hadn’t been sure what he had meant by that when the thought had fluttered past his mind.
Inspiring. It could have meant so many different things. Maybe he thought of her as exciting, which she supposed she was, in a way. Her life was anything but ordinary, she knew that much. She had learned very quickly that the life of a warrior was not stable or fixed. Growing up, Aron and she had frequently been on the defensive. The surrounding communities ostracized them when any knowledge or even speculation of Aron as a prophet arose. Hunters and politicians alike were pursuing them; Khivar had a bounty on a prophet’s head. They hid from detection, moving from town to town, seeking refuge in the desert, savoring their anonymity when they could maintain it.
Perhaps he had thought her moving or … rousing. She wasn’t sure what she would ‘rouse’ in him, but she suspected from his pleasant thoughts that it was something good. Liz herself had found him quite interesting, in fact. He was so open, so clear and exposed. He had not shied away from her test.
Perhaps that had been the part that had unsettled her most. Everyone else had been unaware of her investigations. She was able to get in, uncover information that she needed to clear her doubts, and then leave undetected before moving on to the next.
Yet he knew and welcomed it.
The deep connection was solidifying and liquefying at the same time. Solidifying her confidence in their innocence, and liquefying her resolve to keep them at arms length.
Liz absently nodded to a young man who passed her in the hall, too troubled by her emotions to even notice who he was.
She had never wanted attachments, but the Prince had all but silently begged her to … what? She still didn’t know. But she had a very strong feeling that he wanted her, for something. And she couldn’t help but wish she could be that person for him. Whatever he needed, she was finding herself willing to give.
The inner battle was deafening. She wanted something she couldn’t have.
He thought she was beautiful.
Liz swallowed hard again, and turned a corner.
She still wasn’t sure how or where to place that.
Beautiful. Her? Elizabeth? The few times she had ever questioned her physical appearance were cut short and always unanswered. For the most part she had never cared, only when she had caught the eye of an attractive boy in a market did she ever give any thought of how she looked. It was never an issue. But the Prince had not only thought she was pretty or attractive, he thought she was beautiful.
Beautiful. Her mind still couldn’t comprehend even the word, let alone the implication.
For the first time in years, she was nervous. And despite all of the confusing emotions coursing through her now, and all the underlying insecurity she had, there was one thing she was sure of. She hated being nervous.
It made her question and hesitate. Liz wasn’t allowed either of those luxuries, and yet here she was, totally uncertain and questioning who she was and what she could or should do.
She had always known what her purpose was: to protect the citizens of Rylan and Antar, to battle the evil that corrupted it, and one day to restore the system. Aron had told her about the doomed oracle and the unfulfilled prophecy. The Prince, Shaun, that had died at the hands of Khivar’s malevolent hands. Khivar had forced Shaun into the awakening, and the boy had died. He had told her that Shaun was never the oracle, even though he was considered one by the remaining prophets. Khivar had mistakenly chosen him, leaving the prophecy from so many years ago unfinished, waiting for closure. Until, Aron said, she had been born.
He told her she was that oracle.
And she believed him.
Aron had fed her the story, and even though it wasn’t until her awakening did she understand or believe, she had always wanted to believe him. It had always seemed so romantic and idealistic, that she could be the one to save Antar.
She could still remember Aron’s words from so long ago.
Fate foretold that a soul would possess strength unknown to mankind.
The oracle would be resourceful, wise, and the ultimate weapon against all evil in our galaxy.
This soul would be unconquerable, and because of this power, he would make peace on his warring world.
Aron had told her she was that oracle, and she had believed it; to her very bones she had believed she was the one that would fight against the evil corrupting Rylan.
Until now, Liz had never questioned her role. She had accepted it and had done everything in her power to fulfill the prophecy. Her training, her study, everything she had done was in preparation of things to come.
But after meeting the Prince, she found herself wanting more. Wanting something for herself. Maybe … someone for herself.
As she neared her door, Liz stopped, her hand hovering just above the door handle.
She was being tested, she realized. The Prince was Fate’s test, to see if she could really withstand all that Fate would throw at her in the years to come. She had tested the Prince, and all along the Prince had been testing her.
Rage flamed through her.
The war had begun, and the Prince was a chink in her carefully laid plans. And she would be damned if he succeeded.
The door slammed loudly behind her in a deadening crack.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Isabel deferred sleep as long as she could, and kept guard over Mabyn. She lay on her left side, her left hand propped under her head, with Mabyn sleeping on her stomach, her long, dark hair covering some of her face. Isabel stroked the little girl’s hair and rubbed her back gently whenever she seemed to need it. Surprisingly however, Mabyn seemed to be in a very peaceful sleep.
Isabel wished she could find the same. But she knew that once she closed her eyes, there would be no peace, only nightmare. She wouldn’t see the elegant balls and handsome courtesans that pursued her, she would see Khivar’s evil smile as Philip slumped to the stage floor and her mother following soon after. Instead of reliving her birthday celebrations and family holidays, she would relive the terror she had felt as they escaped Antar.
When she was awake she could think of other things, keep her mind busy on repetitive, tedious tasks. She could busy herself with Mabyn; she could make herself not think about it.
When she was asleep, she couldn’t control her mind. And the vision of her dead parents surfaced.
She shivered in the bed just thinking about the prospect of thinking about it.
Her eyes began to drift closed, and she shook her head and blinked hard to fight it.
She glanced over Mabyn at Kyle’s bed, and he seemed to be sleeping as well, which didn’t surprise her considering his head injury. Kyle had taken the physical abuse and then his punishment in stride. Isabel reminded herself to ask about a doctor for him. She didn’t think Mabyn could take another separation from him, no matter how slight.
She wondered what Aron had planned for them when they woke. Would he expect them to speak to the Cantu survivors? How would he address them? As Antar survivors, or as royal survivors? As Prince and Princess? Or would he address Max as King?
Would he require their services for their stay on the secret base? Surely he expected Bo, Koen, Michael, and Kyle to help with training. Rylie would likely volunteer with the injured. Alex would help somewhere, Isabel was sure. What of Max and her? What would their roles be? She didn’t know how to do much of anything useful, having had servants all her life. She didn’t know how to cook or clean. She could barely take care of Mabyn. She could barely take care of herself.
Her eyes drifted closed again, and this time she was too tired to fight it.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
He moaned loudly from the pain thundering in his head as he roused from an exhaustion-induced sleep.
Nausea bubbled in his stomach. His eyes refused to focus on his surroundings. His skin burned with discomfort, and he couldn’t tell if it was deathly white or fire red. Either way, he would guess he was near death.
Larek didn’t know where he was exactly, assuming a hospital of some sort. Perhaps one of the makeshift infirmaries that Khivar had set up at several bases on Antar.
He was still alive, and from what he could tell, so was Brody though he hadn’t woken in quite a while. Ever since the surgery yesterday, his brother remained in a coma-like state.
He turned his head to the right, his lazy eyes trying desperately to focus on his brother who lay lifeless beside him on a white cot, similar to his own.
Larek blinked hard when the bright light from the ceiling hit his tired eyes. He decided to keep them closed. His headache wasn’t making matters any easier.
The sounds of the staff that tended to him and Brody buzzed softly in the distance, and Larek hoped this respite wouldn’t further agitate the tyrant that waited for them at the palace.
A restless slumber claimed him soon after.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Aron exited his room, walking swiftly to the dining hall. He hadn’t been able to sleep; he hadn’t even tried. There was far too much on his mind.
A sense of foreboding began to take hold of him. He hadn’t told Elizabeth everything. He kept silent about her true purpose, about the Prince’s role, about the prophecy he had gotten in the cave so long ago.
He was trying to guide her indirectly, telling her what she needed to know, and allowing her the opportunity to make her own decisions and let Fate guide her in her life. He was not her warden, he was her protector. Aron hoped she would see it that way when she uncovered the truth. When she learned of the second prophecy. When she realized what her true purpose was.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Hunger woke them. The nine Antarians rose from bed after several hours of much needed sleep and filtered into the hallway. Most were rubbing their eyes or stretching their tired muscles.
Isabel was completely disheveled and eager for a hot bath. Max was eager to find Liz and continue their chat. Michael was eager to piss off Maria some more. Koen and Bo were eager to eat. Alex was eager to get back to bed. Rylie was eager to make herself useful. Kyle was eager to keep Mabyn safe. Mabyn was eager to keep Kyle in eye and earshot; she noted the dried blood that lingered on his ear and jaw.
Aron rounded the corner and approached the tired bunch with an eager smile.
“I’m glad you are all up. We have a lot to do today. Did you all sleep well?”
When he didn’t hear any complaints, he continued.
“I’m sure you’re all hungry. I’ll take you to the dining hall. Its this way.”
He turned and the Antarians followed, unwilling to question or argue. They were too tired or hungry to think.
“Um, Maxwell, may I speak with you?” Aron called over his shoulder.
Max shot a look at Isabel, who shot an equally questioning look at him. Neither of them had an answer. They didn’t even know what question they were asking each other.
He neared Aron, who strode a few steps in front of the group, and walked to the older man's right.
He was rather nervous actually. Surely Aron had big plans for him. Without a doubt, Aron would not only want but expect Prince Maxwell of Antar to make an impressive, poignant speech to the survivors of Cantu. Aron would want him to spark their fire of revenge and justice. He would want a heart-wrenching, tear-jerking, applause-rendering speech, that frankly Max just didn’t have.
It wasn’t that Max couldn’t muster enough emotion in him to speak truthfully or with no holds barred. He could muster plenty. He just didn’t have the persona, the guise or pretext … he didn’t have the mind-set. He wasn’t a speaker or a spokesman. He was just a man who had lived through extraordinary things.
He had literally lain in bed dreading the upcoming confrontation with the prophet. He had few if any intact memories of the older man, and what he did know were what his father had told him. All of it was good, but it did little to lessen Max’s trepidation. He hated being in the public eye, the center of attention. And here he was, about to swallow his tongue he was so nervous.
“I’m sure you all have been through quite a lot since the Festival.”
Max eyed Aron slightly, and nodded.
“And being forced into a life you never really wanted is very difficult. I won’t pretend to understand what it feels like. To have an entire planet, and now two, depending on you. To have to deal with the deaths of parents and loved ones. To have people who care about you so much … they’re willing to die for you.”
Aron turned to gaze behind him at the Antarian group.
They followed blindly, knowing that they were being lead to a safe place. They didn’t question, they didn’t hesitate. It was instinctual that Max be the leader, even though until now he had been anything but. While they were escaping, Michael had gone into survival mode, making decisions for the safety of Max and Isabel and the group as a whole. Now that that was over, for the time being, it seemed that Max was in charge. Needless to say, Max was now choking on his tongue.
It didn’t matter how many pep talks he gave himself; he was still … scared.
“I don’t think I need to tell you that you have an incredible amount of responsibilities, Max. With your father gone…” He drifted off, lost in memories, and knowing that Max wouldn’t want to discuss the subject so soon after. “You’re not just a boy anymore. You’re a man. You’re not just a Prince. You’re a King.” He met Max’s eyes. “You have people who need you to be a King now. They need you to be there for them. And they’ll be there for you.”
Max nodded, somewhat unsettled. He knew all of these things. He knew he was a King, even though the way he attained the throne made him want to vomit. It was his throne, despite pretense or drama. It was his.
Not Khivar’s.
“You were my father’s advisor.”
He saw Aron nod.
“He wasn’t much older than you when he was crowned King.”
Max took a deep breath, and then asked, “What did you say to him when he took the throne?”
Aron smiled slightly at the memory.
“I told him that the planet of Antar was bigger than its people, bigger than him. It’s a planet of responsibility and privilege. It’s a planet that has people who would willingly die to protect and defend it. I told him to never forget that the throne is a risky place to sit. People will lie and betray and … and kill for it. I told him that as long as he never forgot the responsibility, the rewards would be never-ending.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The door shut behind him with a soft thud and the hallway was filled with silence. Maria nodded goodbye and left silently towards her room.
The empty hall was filled with soft light from torches that hung from the walls. No one was out walking the tunnels in the south wing, either sleeping or out training. All was quiet. Except of course for Liz.
She turned slightly from the door, staring off into space for several moments. Her mind was jumbled with questions and emotions, something that, over the years, she had learned to impede. No, her mind was anything but quiet.
She had never felt so unsettles in all her life. One moment she was teaching a sword class to new recruits, and the next she’s confronted with the Prince of Antar, who – if she wasn’t mistaken – had hit on her.
Liz supposed she should be flattered. After all, Maxwell was certainly a handsome, suave, charismatic man who was known throughout the Rylan system as being youthfully attractive and engaging. He certainly had won over Aron quickly. It had taken all of thirty seconds for them to get friendly and reacquainted.
That had not been the most surprising event, however.
Liz had investigated the small group of visitors when she had first entered the room. Needless to say, she had not been entirely convinced that they were who they had claimed to be, so she had examined them; she had read them without their knowledge. Perhaps it was unorthodox for her to use her powers without consent. But few things had been ordinary lately, and Liz had felt obligated to protect Aron and the other Cantu survivors.
She had used their eyes to read them. Liz rarely ever used such a tactic; it always opened such a strong connection. But she couldn’t very well have gone up to each individual in the room and touch them. And as she had hoped, all of the Antarians had been oblivious to the test and truthful about their origins. She had seen their hardships, their escape, their pain. Flashes of screams and guns, blood and carnage.
Liz had spent several extra minutes with the little girl, making sure that she would sleep easier that night. She was certain that the memory of her dead mother would haunt the girl’s dreams, and Liz planted pleasant, somnolent thoughts and soon Mabyn had fallen asleep. She really was a beautiful child, and Liz had felt compelled to help her transition into the new planet, even if the little girl never knew.
Everyone had passed the ‘test’ that Liz had administered. Some images were haunting, some were peaceful, some were lovely and some were anything but.
She could feel their relief when Aron had accepted them.
She could feel their hope at a fresh start and a possible retaliation against Khivar sometime in the future. They wanted Khivar dead, which was fine with her.
She could feel their exhaustion and vulnerability from their ordeal.
And she had felt the emotions of the Prince.
Liz wasn’t entirely certain what all of them were. So many of them were completely foreign, having never felt anything close to those nameless passions. Liz was a soldier, a trained killer. She was in control, confident, and calculating. She was everything that Aron had trained her to be.
And with one look into the Prince, her walls had crumbled around her.
Liz swallowed hard, and walked slowly to her room. Her sandals made silent steps on the clay and rock floor.
He she was strong and fearless, which was not an incorrect assessment.
She was strong, Liz wasn’t afraid to admit it. She had worked endless hours on her physical and mental strength: running, yoga, lifting, and meditation. She trained with several different weapons. Laser guns, blades and swords, even chemicals and explosives. Liz knew the ins and outs of every weapon to her disposal, and then some. She knew twelve different ways to kill a man with her bare hands, and could probably create twelve more if she had to, or wanted to. She wasn’t afraid to fight or battle. The life of a soldier wasn’t what she lived for, but it was what she had prepared for. And she was more than good at it.
He thought that she was inspiring.
She hadn’t been sure what he had meant by that when the thought had fluttered past his mind.
Inspiring. It could have meant so many different things. Maybe he thought of her as exciting, which she supposed she was, in a way. Her life was anything but ordinary, she knew that much. She had learned very quickly that the life of a warrior was not stable or fixed. Growing up, Aron and she had frequently been on the defensive. The surrounding communities ostracized them when any knowledge or even speculation of Aron as a prophet arose. Hunters and politicians alike were pursuing them; Khivar had a bounty on a prophet’s head. They hid from detection, moving from town to town, seeking refuge in the desert, savoring their anonymity when they could maintain it.
Perhaps he had thought her moving or … rousing. She wasn’t sure what she would ‘rouse’ in him, but she suspected from his pleasant thoughts that it was something good. Liz herself had found him quite interesting, in fact. He was so open, so clear and exposed. He had not shied away from her test.
Perhaps that had been the part that had unsettled her most. Everyone else had been unaware of her investigations. She was able to get in, uncover information that she needed to clear her doubts, and then leave undetected before moving on to the next.
Yet he knew and welcomed it.
The deep connection was solidifying and liquefying at the same time. Solidifying her confidence in their innocence, and liquefying her resolve to keep them at arms length.
Liz absently nodded to a young man who passed her in the hall, too troubled by her emotions to even notice who he was.
She had never wanted attachments, but the Prince had all but silently begged her to … what? She still didn’t know. But she had a very strong feeling that he wanted her, for something. And she couldn’t help but wish she could be that person for him. Whatever he needed, she was finding herself willing to give.
The inner battle was deafening. She wanted something she couldn’t have.
He thought she was beautiful.
Liz swallowed hard again, and turned a corner.
She still wasn’t sure how or where to place that.
Beautiful. Her? Elizabeth? The few times she had ever questioned her physical appearance were cut short and always unanswered. For the most part she had never cared, only when she had caught the eye of an attractive boy in a market did she ever give any thought of how she looked. It was never an issue. But the Prince had not only thought she was pretty or attractive, he thought she was beautiful.
Beautiful. Her mind still couldn’t comprehend even the word, let alone the implication.
For the first time in years, she was nervous. And despite all of the confusing emotions coursing through her now, and all the underlying insecurity she had, there was one thing she was sure of. She hated being nervous.
It made her question and hesitate. Liz wasn’t allowed either of those luxuries, and yet here she was, totally uncertain and questioning who she was and what she could or should do.
She had always known what her purpose was: to protect the citizens of Rylan and Antar, to battle the evil that corrupted it, and one day to restore the system. Aron had told her about the doomed oracle and the unfulfilled prophecy. The Prince, Shaun, that had died at the hands of Khivar’s malevolent hands. Khivar had forced Shaun into the awakening, and the boy had died. He had told her that Shaun was never the oracle, even though he was considered one by the remaining prophets. Khivar had mistakenly chosen him, leaving the prophecy from so many years ago unfinished, waiting for closure. Until, Aron said, she had been born.
He told her she was that oracle.
And she believed him.
Aron had fed her the story, and even though it wasn’t until her awakening did she understand or believe, she had always wanted to believe him. It had always seemed so romantic and idealistic, that she could be the one to save Antar.
She could still remember Aron’s words from so long ago.
Fate foretold that a soul would possess strength unknown to mankind.
The oracle would be resourceful, wise, and the ultimate weapon against all evil in our galaxy.
This soul would be unconquerable, and because of this power, he would make peace on his warring world.
Aron had told her she was that oracle, and she had believed it; to her very bones she had believed she was the one that would fight against the evil corrupting Rylan.
Until now, Liz had never questioned her role. She had accepted it and had done everything in her power to fulfill the prophecy. Her training, her study, everything she had done was in preparation of things to come.
But after meeting the Prince, she found herself wanting more. Wanting something for herself. Maybe … someone for herself.
As she neared her door, Liz stopped, her hand hovering just above the door handle.
She was being tested, she realized. The Prince was Fate’s test, to see if she could really withstand all that Fate would throw at her in the years to come. She had tested the Prince, and all along the Prince had been testing her.
Rage flamed through her.
The war had begun, and the Prince was a chink in her carefully laid plans. And she would be damned if he succeeded.
The door slammed loudly behind her in a deadening crack.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Isabel deferred sleep as long as she could, and kept guard over Mabyn. She lay on her left side, her left hand propped under her head, with Mabyn sleeping on her stomach, her long, dark hair covering some of her face. Isabel stroked the little girl’s hair and rubbed her back gently whenever she seemed to need it. Surprisingly however, Mabyn seemed to be in a very peaceful sleep.
Isabel wished she could find the same. But she knew that once she closed her eyes, there would be no peace, only nightmare. She wouldn’t see the elegant balls and handsome courtesans that pursued her, she would see Khivar’s evil smile as Philip slumped to the stage floor and her mother following soon after. Instead of reliving her birthday celebrations and family holidays, she would relive the terror she had felt as they escaped Antar.
When she was awake she could think of other things, keep her mind busy on repetitive, tedious tasks. She could busy herself with Mabyn; she could make herself not think about it.
When she was asleep, she couldn’t control her mind. And the vision of her dead parents surfaced.
She shivered in the bed just thinking about the prospect of thinking about it.
Her eyes began to drift closed, and she shook her head and blinked hard to fight it.
She glanced over Mabyn at Kyle’s bed, and he seemed to be sleeping as well, which didn’t surprise her considering his head injury. Kyle had taken the physical abuse and then his punishment in stride. Isabel reminded herself to ask about a doctor for him. She didn’t think Mabyn could take another separation from him, no matter how slight.
She wondered what Aron had planned for them when they woke. Would he expect them to speak to the Cantu survivors? How would he address them? As Antar survivors, or as royal survivors? As Prince and Princess? Or would he address Max as King?
Would he require their services for their stay on the secret base? Surely he expected Bo, Koen, Michael, and Kyle to help with training. Rylie would likely volunteer with the injured. Alex would help somewhere, Isabel was sure. What of Max and her? What would their roles be? She didn’t know how to do much of anything useful, having had servants all her life. She didn’t know how to cook or clean. She could barely take care of Mabyn. She could barely take care of herself.
Her eyes drifted closed again, and this time she was too tired to fight it.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
He moaned loudly from the pain thundering in his head as he roused from an exhaustion-induced sleep.
Nausea bubbled in his stomach. His eyes refused to focus on his surroundings. His skin burned with discomfort, and he couldn’t tell if it was deathly white or fire red. Either way, he would guess he was near death.
Larek didn’t know where he was exactly, assuming a hospital of some sort. Perhaps one of the makeshift infirmaries that Khivar had set up at several bases on Antar.
He was still alive, and from what he could tell, so was Brody though he hadn’t woken in quite a while. Ever since the surgery yesterday, his brother remained in a coma-like state.
He turned his head to the right, his lazy eyes trying desperately to focus on his brother who lay lifeless beside him on a white cot, similar to his own.
Larek blinked hard when the bright light from the ceiling hit his tired eyes. He decided to keep them closed. His headache wasn’t making matters any easier.
The sounds of the staff that tended to him and Brody buzzed softly in the distance, and Larek hoped this respite wouldn’t further agitate the tyrant that waited for them at the palace.
A restless slumber claimed him soon after.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Aron exited his room, walking swiftly to the dining hall. He hadn’t been able to sleep; he hadn’t even tried. There was far too much on his mind.
A sense of foreboding began to take hold of him. He hadn’t told Elizabeth everything. He kept silent about her true purpose, about the Prince’s role, about the prophecy he had gotten in the cave so long ago.
He was trying to guide her indirectly, telling her what she needed to know, and allowing her the opportunity to make her own decisions and let Fate guide her in her life. He was not her warden, he was her protector. Aron hoped she would see it that way when she uncovered the truth. When she learned of the second prophecy. When she realized what her true purpose was.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Hunger woke them. The nine Antarians rose from bed after several hours of much needed sleep and filtered into the hallway. Most were rubbing their eyes or stretching their tired muscles.
Isabel was completely disheveled and eager for a hot bath. Max was eager to find Liz and continue their chat. Michael was eager to piss off Maria some more. Koen and Bo were eager to eat. Alex was eager to get back to bed. Rylie was eager to make herself useful. Kyle was eager to keep Mabyn safe. Mabyn was eager to keep Kyle in eye and earshot; she noted the dried blood that lingered on his ear and jaw.
Aron rounded the corner and approached the tired bunch with an eager smile.
“I’m glad you are all up. We have a lot to do today. Did you all sleep well?”
When he didn’t hear any complaints, he continued.
“I’m sure you’re all hungry. I’ll take you to the dining hall. Its this way.”
He turned and the Antarians followed, unwilling to question or argue. They were too tired or hungry to think.
“Um, Maxwell, may I speak with you?” Aron called over his shoulder.
Max shot a look at Isabel, who shot an equally questioning look at him. Neither of them had an answer. They didn’t even know what question they were asking each other.
He neared Aron, who strode a few steps in front of the group, and walked to the older man's right.
He was rather nervous actually. Surely Aron had big plans for him. Without a doubt, Aron would not only want but expect Prince Maxwell of Antar to make an impressive, poignant speech to the survivors of Cantu. Aron would want him to spark their fire of revenge and justice. He would want a heart-wrenching, tear-jerking, applause-rendering speech, that frankly Max just didn’t have.
It wasn’t that Max couldn’t muster enough emotion in him to speak truthfully or with no holds barred. He could muster plenty. He just didn’t have the persona, the guise or pretext … he didn’t have the mind-set. He wasn’t a speaker or a spokesman. He was just a man who had lived through extraordinary things.
He had literally lain in bed dreading the upcoming confrontation with the prophet. He had few if any intact memories of the older man, and what he did know were what his father had told him. All of it was good, but it did little to lessen Max’s trepidation. He hated being in the public eye, the center of attention. And here he was, about to swallow his tongue he was so nervous.
“I’m sure you all have been through quite a lot since the Festival.”
Max eyed Aron slightly, and nodded.
“And being forced into a life you never really wanted is very difficult. I won’t pretend to understand what it feels like. To have an entire planet, and now two, depending on you. To have to deal with the deaths of parents and loved ones. To have people who care about you so much … they’re willing to die for you.”
Aron turned to gaze behind him at the Antarian group.
They followed blindly, knowing that they were being lead to a safe place. They didn’t question, they didn’t hesitate. It was instinctual that Max be the leader, even though until now he had been anything but. While they were escaping, Michael had gone into survival mode, making decisions for the safety of Max and Isabel and the group as a whole. Now that that was over, for the time being, it seemed that Max was in charge. Needless to say, Max was now choking on his tongue.
It didn’t matter how many pep talks he gave himself; he was still … scared.
“I don’t think I need to tell you that you have an incredible amount of responsibilities, Max. With your father gone…” He drifted off, lost in memories, and knowing that Max wouldn’t want to discuss the subject so soon after. “You’re not just a boy anymore. You’re a man. You’re not just a Prince. You’re a King.” He met Max’s eyes. “You have people who need you to be a King now. They need you to be there for them. And they’ll be there for you.”
Max nodded, somewhat unsettled. He knew all of these things. He knew he was a King, even though the way he attained the throne made him want to vomit. It was his throne, despite pretense or drama. It was his.
Not Khivar’s.
“You were my father’s advisor.”
He saw Aron nod.
“He wasn’t much older than you when he was crowned King.”
Max took a deep breath, and then asked, “What did you say to him when he took the throne?”
Aron smiled slightly at the memory.
“I told him that the planet of Antar was bigger than its people, bigger than him. It’s a planet of responsibility and privilege. It’s a planet that has people who would willingly die to protect and defend it. I told him to never forget that the throne is a risky place to sit. People will lie and betray and … and kill for it. I told him that as long as he never forgot the responsibility, the rewards would be never-ending.”
God is a comedian playing to an audience too afraid to laugh.
~Voltaire
~Voltaire
-
truman11883
- Enthusiastic Roswellian
- Posts: 69
- Joined: Fri Apr 04, 2003 8:45 pm
- Location: St. Louis, Missouri, USA, Planet Earth
Part 15
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Max sighed heavily in the dim light of the setting suns, wondering just what he had been thinking. He watched her walk away and asked himself not for the first time, did he really think it would be easy, swooning the ever-elusive Elizabeth?
His head hung heavily and he kicked at the sand, dejected yet again but still finding some determination within him, the pool of hope not yet dry even after days of depletion and rejection and embarrassment.
His first attempt had been completely heart felt and hopeful, and Liz had left him slack-jawed standing in front of a group when she didn’t even answer him. He wasn’t even sure if she heard his request to go for a walk. She simply acted like he wasn’t there, and then walked away while he was in mid sentence.
His second attempt had turned out no better. When he mentioned joining her sword class her eyes had lit with a fire of rage, and her only reply had been, “Burn in hell.” Big words, he had thought with a secret smile, from such a tiny woman.
Even so, he would not stop. The third time, he had inadvertently found her source of anger. He hadn’t been sure why she was so angry with him. He had barely talked with her and yet she showed hostility and resentment towards him.
He had asked an innocent question one afternoon, genuinely curious, inquiring about her childhood and family. She had turned livid. Her eyes had been wild and her voice low but tight as she responded, “Believe me, Your Highness, you need’nt worry about such lowly subjects as my family. Us peasants can care for ourselves. Why don’t you go ask Ben over there to refill your drink? I’m sure it needs refreshing after your hard day of lounging on your throne.” She had stormed off, leaving Max silent and Michael furious, who had witnessed the heated exchange.
It had been four days since that encounter, giving Max plenty of time to contemplate her meaning and convincing Michael to not say anything to Aron about Elizabeth.
“Maxwell, how can you ask me to not say anything?! It was completely inappropriate! You ask her a simple question and she blows up in your face. Who is she to-?”
“Michael, don’t. I don’t want to cause any problems. Jesus, we just got here and I’m already making enemies.” When he saw Michael relent slightly, he continued, “We need Aron. And Aron is very close with Elizabeth. We need to keep as many allies right now as we can.”
And with that explanation, Michael had been convinced. Yes, Max had played on his friend’s natural tendency of protector and warrior, but it had worked. Michael was at bay, and Max was left with the impossible task of convincing the one person who was in every way inconvincible.
He was completely surprised that she assumed he was using his status as a romantic influence. He had never thought for a moment that he was somehow entitled to her or any other because of his title. Whether he was a King or a Prince or a defunct adolescent, he didn’t want special treatment. But he also didn’t want anyone to think they didn’t have a choice when it came to what he wanted. Growing up, he had felt suffocated by his parents’ constant hovering and discipline and demands. The only thing Max wanted was Elizabeth. He needed her, more than he needed air to breathe. And the stress of her refusal was choking, to say the least.
The only respite he ever found from her steadfast refusal was the distraction that Aron showed him. The past couple of days had been blatantly hectic: introductions, announcements, meetings, training; it seemed to never end.
All of the members of the Antarian group had thrived in the new environment. Mabyn had found new friends and a sparkle in her eye. Kyle and Michael were organizing the small army that Aron had formed. Bo and Koen helped train new and existing recruits every night. Alex offered his intelligence training, attempting to contact Antarian allies. Rylie had successfully organized the treatment center that had been started. Even Isabel blossomed whom he had been convinced would rather eat mud than wash laundry or prepare meals. But he knew without her telling him, she enjoyed the regularity, the security of routine and habit. It wasn’t necessarily the work she took pleasure in; it was the distraction she enjoyed.
And Max had established himself as the ‘King’ of Antar, even despite his protests to formally take the position. Aron had introduced him to the hungry audience in the dining hall that first morning on Cantu and after a brief pause, the awed crowd had cheered and applauded louder than any audience Max had ever stood before. It was hard for him to believe that anyone would actually want him to be King, considering his past sentiments on the position.
The people of Cantu sent him gifts daily, bowed as he passed them, waited on him hand and foot. It didn’t matter how many times he thanked them for their kindness or requested a moment alone or relinquished them of their duty. Even if he wasn’t a King in his eyes, to them he was. He was their King.
But his heart wasn’t in it. It just didn’t feel right, not yet anyway. He didn’t want to be King until he could rule his planet on his planet, until he took it back and had Khivar’s head. And if he allowed himself to be completely honest, he didn’t want to rule alone either.
Liz disappeared into the cave entrance, and Max was left contemplating his next move. This time she had not only refused his proposal of a private dinner outright, she had insisted quite vulgarly to ‘leave her the hell alone and mind his own fucking business.’
Hmmm, Max thought. It was obviously going to take some deep persuasion. It didn’t matter how many times she said no, or how gracelessly she said it, he wasn’t giving up. Not on her … never would he give up on Liz.
But his persistence didn’t lessen his hurt each time she did say no. Each day he would build his courage, psyching himself up with mental pep talks, convincing himself that they belonged together and it was only a matter of time until she realized it. That this time she would accept an invitation to gaze at the stars or spend the day watching after the children or sit with him in the dining hall for breakfast, or lunch, or dinner … or dessert. He would feel the brief spark of hope deep inside him and his chest would constrict with its intensity. It was the same feeling he felt when he and Liz first met the week before. In those moments, the task of persuasion didn’t seem so daunting. She had convinced him with just a look, and now it was his turn to convince her.
But how he was going to convince her was something he just couldn’t figure out. He rubbed his hand over his tired face. Convincing Elizabeth was the most exhausting mission he had ever attempted. Hopefully he wouldn’t loose too much sleep tonight contemplating his next move. If and when he finally cracked her steely resolve, he wanted all of his strength to bask in the glow of success.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A new day brought yet another routine of chores, duties, and missions.
Despite her initial hesitance at domestic work, Isabel had gotten quite good at her kitchen duties. She had asked Aron to put her to work, and the only position available besides indolent monarch was cook. She couldn’t sit idly for another day; it only allowed her mind to wander. Isabel needed a distraction and no matter what it was, even scrubbing pans and sweeping floors, she did it wholeheartedly.
She had excelled quickly. So quickly that she was getting bored while she worked. So bored that her mind would wander and she would think of things that she preferred not to think about.
So instead, she decided to accompany Rylie to the treatment center, learning how to clean wounds, set a broken bone, and give CPR. Needless to say, it had been a tad daunting at first. Rylie was confident and sure, and Isabel’s had shook with her nervousness.
“Now, you want to make sure that you close the nostrils and breathe quickly into their mouth, sealing your lips to theirs.”
Isabel faltered at the statement and gave Rylie an incredulous look. Seal your lips? What the fu-?
“Don’t worry, Isabel. You’ll be fine.” Rylie could tell that the young woman wanted to learn. But she could also tell that she wasn’t comfortable yet. Not by a long shot. Isabel just needed to relax and take a baby step into the world of medicine and health care. The best medical doctors on Antar had trained Rylie. Isabel had just learned how to take someone’s temperature. Patience, she told herself not for the first time. Patience.
Isabel shook her head. “No. No, I … I don’t think so. I am so not cut out for this.” She took a look around her. Scalpels, syringes, white hospital cots, and several recuperating victims gazing intently at the beautiful Princess. This was not good. “No, I think I’m just going to go back to the kitchen where I won’t make a complete fool out of myself and possibly kill someone.”
A worried look passed between two young men lying next to each other on their cots. She wasn’t going to treat them, was she?
She turned to leave as quickly as possible, when Rylie’s voice stopped her.
“Isabel, wait!”
Isabel slowed at the entrance, wanting so much to stay but needing to leave just the same. She thought she could do it. She thought that she could help someone besides cooking potatoes or washing their sheets. She wanted to know how to really help someone. She wanted to know that, if she ever had to, she could save someone … like she wished she could have at the Festival.
But this … this was so much more than she thought it would be. So much harder than anything she was ready for.
“Isabel, look. I know it’s a lot. But, we’ll take it slow. You’ve already learned a lot today. Tomorrow you can come back, and we’ll try something new. I’ll teach you how to take a blood pressure. But we’ll take it one step at a time. Okay?”
She saw Isabel consider her proposal. She knew Isabel wanted to learn. She was just scared. And rightfully so, Rylie thought. Who wouldn’t be intimidated after witnessing her parents’ death?
Isabel turned to Rylie, both hesitant and hopeful at the same time. She looked into Rylie’s blue-gray eyes uncertainly. “Do you really think I can do it? I just … I don’t want to embarrass myself. I don’t want to waste your time. I don’t want to screw up or …” hurt someone, she finished silently. She shuttered at the thought.
“You’ll be fine. I promise, we won’t do any invasive surgery techniques until you’ve mastered nosebleeds.”
The attempt at a joke brought a brief smile to Isabel’s face, and she nodded her assent. “Tomorrow?” she asked.
“Tomorrow.” Rylie watched her exit the large room, and let out a deep breath. Patience.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Maria carelessly dropped her gun on the table and wiped her sweaty brow with the back of her hand. Damn it was hot out there. Both suns had risen by the time she and Courtney returned from guard duty. After returning, her partner had left to bathe and get a few hours sleep. Maria had gone to the large public commons area, intent on winding down before returning to her room. She wasn’t much for solitude.
She reached for her bag to retrieve her notebook, when a shadow loomed overhead.
She sighed without looking up and asked, “What do you want?”
A low chuckle was heard, “What? No hello?”
“Michael, I really don’t have time or patience for your rudimentary attempt at conversation. Tell me what you want, or leave.” She opened her notebook, and went about searching for a pencil in her tattered bag.
Michael watched from his standing position as she ignored him. Thank God, he thought. He internally sighed, thankful that she still hadn’t caught on yet. He wasn’t trying to annoy her with his daily intrusions, constantly making his presence known, though it was a side benefit. And if she didn’t know, he sure as hell wasn’t going to offer the information. That would be way too embarrassing.
He pulled an apple from his pocket and took a bite, roughly sitting next to her on the small table. Michael drew a pen from his coat, waving it in front of her face.
She looked up at his sudden presence next to her fully intent on telling him to fuck off, when she saw the pen. Maria gave him an obstinate look, and took the pen, allowing him to reside in his seat until he pissed her off again. It was only a matter of time.
Without a thank you, she began making notes, writing any activity she or Courtney had seen on their duty. Michael gazed over her shoulder at the notebook and chewed on the fruit loudly.
She looked at him quickly, and he averted his gaze, taking another bite of the apple.
When she returned her focus to her notes, Michael began to read over her shoulder again, with a small smile on his face. He was pissing her off pretty easily. Not that it ever took any great effort.
“What?!” she asked, already annoyed and finally fed up with his childish games. Didn’t take long, she thought. Not like it ever did. “What? What do you want?”
“Wha’s dat?” he asked, as he chewed on his apple. The words were muffled by his full mouth.
“A notebook.”
“Oh,” he responded absentmindedly, returning to his attention to his snack. He heard her sigh loudly, clearly annoyed.
Just when she was sure he had lost interest, “Whatcha writin’?”
She looked up and saw her gun just within arm’s reach. It was very tempting, but she summoned her control to not kill the bastard. Just because he was annoying as hell didn’t mean he deserved to die. Yet.
“Notes. I’m writing notes.”
He nodded.
“Why?”
His chewing seemed to echo in her ears. Was he chewing that loud on purpose? “Every mission or rotation I make notes of what I saw.”
“Why?”
“Its procedure.” He stared at her and she knew he would only keep up the continued line of questioning. So she offered an explanation. “It gives me an idea of what to expect. A study guide of their habits, their movements. I don’t want to be surprised.”
He nodded, genuinely impressed and she caught his surprise. He hadn’t expected her to go the extra mile, which only angered her more. If there was anything she gave more than 100% at it was her job. Being a soldier was the only way she could think of to avenge her father’s death. Maria wanted to know everything she could when the time came to kill the bastard that murdered her father.
“Why?”
She was pulled out of her reverie at his question. “Why what?”
“Why are you so eager to kill someone?”
Her eyes grew large. Had he been reading her mind? There was an oddly comfortable silence, both of them reading the other. All pretense fell away at his observation. For once, they weren’t judging each other and the usual hostility evaporated. She asked herself if there was more to Michael than met the eye. He asked himself how much longer he could lie to himself. He was in deeper than he wanted to admit.
He was a prisoner. A hostage. Ever since that ‘incident’ in the desert, he told himself. Ever since then, Maria had gotten underneath his skin, irritating the hell out of him. He felt the urge to protect her that rivaled, and even overwhelmed his need to protect Max and Isabel. For some reason he felt the irrepressible need to keep her safe, which was nearly impossible considering she went on scouting missions every other day and took guard duty as often as possible.
Michael had kept an eye on her and a mental note of her schedule. When she returned from a mission he would check in, making his presence known and reassuring himself that she was all right. He had prayed that she wouldn’t find out and call him on it. He wasn’t sure what he would do if she ever did. He was sure his incredibly large, masculine ego couldn’t live through that embarrassment.
“I’m not,” Maria answered softly.
“No?”
She shook her head softly never loosing eye contact with him. Unconsciously, their faces drew closer together, their voices dropping to a low hum.
“No. I just want revenge.”
He studied her for a moment. “For your father,” he offered, already knowing her answer.
She nodded and dropped her gaze to her hands.
Michael wasn’t sure where he was going with this, or if he was going anywhere. When he was around Maria, nothing was certain. And for once, it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
“What will you do after that?”
She shrugged, and played with her sleeve. “I don’t know.”
“Will you stay on Cantu?”
She thought for a moment before she answered. “I’ll stay with Aron … until the war’s over. After that, I’m not sure. You?”
He grinned. “Same.”
She laughed quietly and blushed when she noticed he seemingly couldn’t take his eyes off of her.
“How about that. We actually agree on something.”
“Yeah.”
She met his eyes again, and fell into them. For once he wasn’t arrogant or annoying or argumentative. He was just Michael. The façade he usually wore crumbled. His dark brown eyes searched hers; her green eyes searched his. For once, she liked what she saw.
Something red came into view, and he successfully broke the mood as he took a large bite of his apple.
He grinned with a full mouth of apple. “Good to know.”
He stood from the bench and left a bewildered Maria in his wake. Michael didn’t look back too afraid that he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. He ran an unsteady hand through his sandy brown hair. That had been close. More than five minutes in Maria’s presence was too much. He couldn’t let himself get that far gone again. It wasn’t safe.
He turned a corner and ran into a hard body. “Whoa.”
“Sorry,” the voice said. “Michael.”
Michael looked up to see his good friend. “Max. What’s up?”
“Nothing,” he absently said as he searched the faces of the crowd in the commons. When he didn’t see Liz anywhere, he asked, “Have you seen Kyle? I was supposed to meet with him five minutes ago.”
“Uh, yeah. I saw him over on the west side,” he said and pointed in the direction for good measure.
“Thanks.”
Max stealthily walked through the crowd, ignoring the intense gazes he received. He searched but he couldn’t find Kyle anywhere. He had looked at his room, had checked with Isabel, and now, he wasn't in the commons either. Nothing was going right today, and his shoulders sagged for not the first time that day.
The commons was loud with activity, but over the noise he heard a sniffle. It caught his attention, and he waited to hear it again. He turned to his right following the noise, and found Mabyn sitting against a far wall alone.
Her knees were pulled up to her chest and her head was bowed low. Her hair hid most of her face and the low light in the corner obscured her form a bit. But there was no mistaking it was Mabyn. As he neared her he saw tear tracks on her cheeks.
“Mabyn?” Max stooped to kneel in front of her.
She looked up, startled than anyone had noticed her. She didn’t want to be noticed. She wanted to disappear.
When she didn’t respond, he continued, “Mabyn, what’s wrong?”
She looked down, not answering his question and tugged at her necklace that Isabel had made for her. The white shells and stones contrasted nicely to her dark skin. She felt more than saw Max sit next to her on her left. Why was he here? Why wouldn’t he just leave?
Mabyn seemed so alone, and somehow hurt. Max wasn’t sure how to comfort her. She obviously didn’t want him here … she wanted to be alone. Kyle and Liz and everything else faded away as he focused on Mabyn and what she needed. He was trying desperately to keep that promise he made to himself so many nights ago. No matter what he had on his plate, Max would always make time for the little girl that effortlessly stole the hearts of the Antarians.
He tentatively put his arm around her shoulder, and then let it drift down to rub her back. She liked back rubs, he knew. Isabel had told him it always seemed to calm her. It worked now as he watched her shoulders relax and her breathing even. She closed her eyes and welcomed the comfort.
Several quiet minutes passed, each getting comfortable with the other being so close. While Max had taken to Mabyn very quickly, Mabyn had been slow to open up to him just as she was with most everyone. Whenever he attempted conversation with her, she would look at him, study him, and then look away and never say a word. The fact that she welcomed his attempt at consoling her was an ego boost for Max. He needed a victory today.
He lowered his voice, making sure no one would overhear. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” He tried not to laugh with delight when she scooted closer and leant into his embrace. He hugged her close.
Mabyn hesitated for only a minute, and then with a pain-filled sob whispered, “I miss my mommy.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Max sighed heavily in the dim light of the setting suns, wondering just what he had been thinking. He watched her walk away and asked himself not for the first time, did he really think it would be easy, swooning the ever-elusive Elizabeth?
His head hung heavily and he kicked at the sand, dejected yet again but still finding some determination within him, the pool of hope not yet dry even after days of depletion and rejection and embarrassment.
His first attempt had been completely heart felt and hopeful, and Liz had left him slack-jawed standing in front of a group when she didn’t even answer him. He wasn’t even sure if she heard his request to go for a walk. She simply acted like he wasn’t there, and then walked away while he was in mid sentence.
His second attempt had turned out no better. When he mentioned joining her sword class her eyes had lit with a fire of rage, and her only reply had been, “Burn in hell.” Big words, he had thought with a secret smile, from such a tiny woman.
Even so, he would not stop. The third time, he had inadvertently found her source of anger. He hadn’t been sure why she was so angry with him. He had barely talked with her and yet she showed hostility and resentment towards him.
He had asked an innocent question one afternoon, genuinely curious, inquiring about her childhood and family. She had turned livid. Her eyes had been wild and her voice low but tight as she responded, “Believe me, Your Highness, you need’nt worry about such lowly subjects as my family. Us peasants can care for ourselves. Why don’t you go ask Ben over there to refill your drink? I’m sure it needs refreshing after your hard day of lounging on your throne.” She had stormed off, leaving Max silent and Michael furious, who had witnessed the heated exchange.
It had been four days since that encounter, giving Max plenty of time to contemplate her meaning and convincing Michael to not say anything to Aron about Elizabeth.
“Maxwell, how can you ask me to not say anything?! It was completely inappropriate! You ask her a simple question and she blows up in your face. Who is she to-?”
“Michael, don’t. I don’t want to cause any problems. Jesus, we just got here and I’m already making enemies.” When he saw Michael relent slightly, he continued, “We need Aron. And Aron is very close with Elizabeth. We need to keep as many allies right now as we can.”
And with that explanation, Michael had been convinced. Yes, Max had played on his friend’s natural tendency of protector and warrior, but it had worked. Michael was at bay, and Max was left with the impossible task of convincing the one person who was in every way inconvincible.
He was completely surprised that she assumed he was using his status as a romantic influence. He had never thought for a moment that he was somehow entitled to her or any other because of his title. Whether he was a King or a Prince or a defunct adolescent, he didn’t want special treatment. But he also didn’t want anyone to think they didn’t have a choice when it came to what he wanted. Growing up, he had felt suffocated by his parents’ constant hovering and discipline and demands. The only thing Max wanted was Elizabeth. He needed her, more than he needed air to breathe. And the stress of her refusal was choking, to say the least.
The only respite he ever found from her steadfast refusal was the distraction that Aron showed him. The past couple of days had been blatantly hectic: introductions, announcements, meetings, training; it seemed to never end.
All of the members of the Antarian group had thrived in the new environment. Mabyn had found new friends and a sparkle in her eye. Kyle and Michael were organizing the small army that Aron had formed. Bo and Koen helped train new and existing recruits every night. Alex offered his intelligence training, attempting to contact Antarian allies. Rylie had successfully organized the treatment center that had been started. Even Isabel blossomed whom he had been convinced would rather eat mud than wash laundry or prepare meals. But he knew without her telling him, she enjoyed the regularity, the security of routine and habit. It wasn’t necessarily the work she took pleasure in; it was the distraction she enjoyed.
And Max had established himself as the ‘King’ of Antar, even despite his protests to formally take the position. Aron had introduced him to the hungry audience in the dining hall that first morning on Cantu and after a brief pause, the awed crowd had cheered and applauded louder than any audience Max had ever stood before. It was hard for him to believe that anyone would actually want him to be King, considering his past sentiments on the position.
The people of Cantu sent him gifts daily, bowed as he passed them, waited on him hand and foot. It didn’t matter how many times he thanked them for their kindness or requested a moment alone or relinquished them of their duty. Even if he wasn’t a King in his eyes, to them he was. He was their King.
But his heart wasn’t in it. It just didn’t feel right, not yet anyway. He didn’t want to be King until he could rule his planet on his planet, until he took it back and had Khivar’s head. And if he allowed himself to be completely honest, he didn’t want to rule alone either.
Liz disappeared into the cave entrance, and Max was left contemplating his next move. This time she had not only refused his proposal of a private dinner outright, she had insisted quite vulgarly to ‘leave her the hell alone and mind his own fucking business.’
Hmmm, Max thought. It was obviously going to take some deep persuasion. It didn’t matter how many times she said no, or how gracelessly she said it, he wasn’t giving up. Not on her … never would he give up on Liz.
But his persistence didn’t lessen his hurt each time she did say no. Each day he would build his courage, psyching himself up with mental pep talks, convincing himself that they belonged together and it was only a matter of time until she realized it. That this time she would accept an invitation to gaze at the stars or spend the day watching after the children or sit with him in the dining hall for breakfast, or lunch, or dinner … or dessert. He would feel the brief spark of hope deep inside him and his chest would constrict with its intensity. It was the same feeling he felt when he and Liz first met the week before. In those moments, the task of persuasion didn’t seem so daunting. She had convinced him with just a look, and now it was his turn to convince her.
But how he was going to convince her was something he just couldn’t figure out. He rubbed his hand over his tired face. Convincing Elizabeth was the most exhausting mission he had ever attempted. Hopefully he wouldn’t loose too much sleep tonight contemplating his next move. If and when he finally cracked her steely resolve, he wanted all of his strength to bask in the glow of success.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A new day brought yet another routine of chores, duties, and missions.
Despite her initial hesitance at domestic work, Isabel had gotten quite good at her kitchen duties. She had asked Aron to put her to work, and the only position available besides indolent monarch was cook. She couldn’t sit idly for another day; it only allowed her mind to wander. Isabel needed a distraction and no matter what it was, even scrubbing pans and sweeping floors, she did it wholeheartedly.
She had excelled quickly. So quickly that she was getting bored while she worked. So bored that her mind would wander and she would think of things that she preferred not to think about.
So instead, she decided to accompany Rylie to the treatment center, learning how to clean wounds, set a broken bone, and give CPR. Needless to say, it had been a tad daunting at first. Rylie was confident and sure, and Isabel’s had shook with her nervousness.
“Now, you want to make sure that you close the nostrils and breathe quickly into their mouth, sealing your lips to theirs.”
Isabel faltered at the statement and gave Rylie an incredulous look. Seal your lips? What the fu-?
“Don’t worry, Isabel. You’ll be fine.” Rylie could tell that the young woman wanted to learn. But she could also tell that she wasn’t comfortable yet. Not by a long shot. Isabel just needed to relax and take a baby step into the world of medicine and health care. The best medical doctors on Antar had trained Rylie. Isabel had just learned how to take someone’s temperature. Patience, she told herself not for the first time. Patience.
Isabel shook her head. “No. No, I … I don’t think so. I am so not cut out for this.” She took a look around her. Scalpels, syringes, white hospital cots, and several recuperating victims gazing intently at the beautiful Princess. This was not good. “No, I think I’m just going to go back to the kitchen where I won’t make a complete fool out of myself and possibly kill someone.”
A worried look passed between two young men lying next to each other on their cots. She wasn’t going to treat them, was she?
She turned to leave as quickly as possible, when Rylie’s voice stopped her.
“Isabel, wait!”
Isabel slowed at the entrance, wanting so much to stay but needing to leave just the same. She thought she could do it. She thought that she could help someone besides cooking potatoes or washing their sheets. She wanted to know how to really help someone. She wanted to know that, if she ever had to, she could save someone … like she wished she could have at the Festival.
But this … this was so much more than she thought it would be. So much harder than anything she was ready for.
“Isabel, look. I know it’s a lot. But, we’ll take it slow. You’ve already learned a lot today. Tomorrow you can come back, and we’ll try something new. I’ll teach you how to take a blood pressure. But we’ll take it one step at a time. Okay?”
She saw Isabel consider her proposal. She knew Isabel wanted to learn. She was just scared. And rightfully so, Rylie thought. Who wouldn’t be intimidated after witnessing her parents’ death?
Isabel turned to Rylie, both hesitant and hopeful at the same time. She looked into Rylie’s blue-gray eyes uncertainly. “Do you really think I can do it? I just … I don’t want to embarrass myself. I don’t want to waste your time. I don’t want to screw up or …” hurt someone, she finished silently. She shuttered at the thought.
“You’ll be fine. I promise, we won’t do any invasive surgery techniques until you’ve mastered nosebleeds.”
The attempt at a joke brought a brief smile to Isabel’s face, and she nodded her assent. “Tomorrow?” she asked.
“Tomorrow.” Rylie watched her exit the large room, and let out a deep breath. Patience.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Maria carelessly dropped her gun on the table and wiped her sweaty brow with the back of her hand. Damn it was hot out there. Both suns had risen by the time she and Courtney returned from guard duty. After returning, her partner had left to bathe and get a few hours sleep. Maria had gone to the large public commons area, intent on winding down before returning to her room. She wasn’t much for solitude.
She reached for her bag to retrieve her notebook, when a shadow loomed overhead.
She sighed without looking up and asked, “What do you want?”
A low chuckle was heard, “What? No hello?”
“Michael, I really don’t have time or patience for your rudimentary attempt at conversation. Tell me what you want, or leave.” She opened her notebook, and went about searching for a pencil in her tattered bag.
Michael watched from his standing position as she ignored him. Thank God, he thought. He internally sighed, thankful that she still hadn’t caught on yet. He wasn’t trying to annoy her with his daily intrusions, constantly making his presence known, though it was a side benefit. And if she didn’t know, he sure as hell wasn’t going to offer the information. That would be way too embarrassing.
He pulled an apple from his pocket and took a bite, roughly sitting next to her on the small table. Michael drew a pen from his coat, waving it in front of her face.
She looked up at his sudden presence next to her fully intent on telling him to fuck off, when she saw the pen. Maria gave him an obstinate look, and took the pen, allowing him to reside in his seat until he pissed her off again. It was only a matter of time.
Without a thank you, she began making notes, writing any activity she or Courtney had seen on their duty. Michael gazed over her shoulder at the notebook and chewed on the fruit loudly.
She looked at him quickly, and he averted his gaze, taking another bite of the apple.
When she returned her focus to her notes, Michael began to read over her shoulder again, with a small smile on his face. He was pissing her off pretty easily. Not that it ever took any great effort.
“What?!” she asked, already annoyed and finally fed up with his childish games. Didn’t take long, she thought. Not like it ever did. “What? What do you want?”
“Wha’s dat?” he asked, as he chewed on his apple. The words were muffled by his full mouth.
“A notebook.”
“Oh,” he responded absentmindedly, returning to his attention to his snack. He heard her sigh loudly, clearly annoyed.
Just when she was sure he had lost interest, “Whatcha writin’?”
She looked up and saw her gun just within arm’s reach. It was very tempting, but she summoned her control to not kill the bastard. Just because he was annoying as hell didn’t mean he deserved to die. Yet.
“Notes. I’m writing notes.”
He nodded.
“Why?”
His chewing seemed to echo in her ears. Was he chewing that loud on purpose? “Every mission or rotation I make notes of what I saw.”
“Why?”
“Its procedure.” He stared at her and she knew he would only keep up the continued line of questioning. So she offered an explanation. “It gives me an idea of what to expect. A study guide of their habits, their movements. I don’t want to be surprised.”
He nodded, genuinely impressed and she caught his surprise. He hadn’t expected her to go the extra mile, which only angered her more. If there was anything she gave more than 100% at it was her job. Being a soldier was the only way she could think of to avenge her father’s death. Maria wanted to know everything she could when the time came to kill the bastard that murdered her father.
“Why?”
She was pulled out of her reverie at his question. “Why what?”
“Why are you so eager to kill someone?”
Her eyes grew large. Had he been reading her mind? There was an oddly comfortable silence, both of them reading the other. All pretense fell away at his observation. For once, they weren’t judging each other and the usual hostility evaporated. She asked herself if there was more to Michael than met the eye. He asked himself how much longer he could lie to himself. He was in deeper than he wanted to admit.
He was a prisoner. A hostage. Ever since that ‘incident’ in the desert, he told himself. Ever since then, Maria had gotten underneath his skin, irritating the hell out of him. He felt the urge to protect her that rivaled, and even overwhelmed his need to protect Max and Isabel. For some reason he felt the irrepressible need to keep her safe, which was nearly impossible considering she went on scouting missions every other day and took guard duty as often as possible.
Michael had kept an eye on her and a mental note of her schedule. When she returned from a mission he would check in, making his presence known and reassuring himself that she was all right. He had prayed that she wouldn’t find out and call him on it. He wasn’t sure what he would do if she ever did. He was sure his incredibly large, masculine ego couldn’t live through that embarrassment.
“I’m not,” Maria answered softly.
“No?”
She shook her head softly never loosing eye contact with him. Unconsciously, their faces drew closer together, their voices dropping to a low hum.
“No. I just want revenge.”
He studied her for a moment. “For your father,” he offered, already knowing her answer.
She nodded and dropped her gaze to her hands.
Michael wasn’t sure where he was going with this, or if he was going anywhere. When he was around Maria, nothing was certain. And for once, it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
“What will you do after that?”
She shrugged, and played with her sleeve. “I don’t know.”
“Will you stay on Cantu?”
She thought for a moment before she answered. “I’ll stay with Aron … until the war’s over. After that, I’m not sure. You?”
He grinned. “Same.”
She laughed quietly and blushed when she noticed he seemingly couldn’t take his eyes off of her.
“How about that. We actually agree on something.”
“Yeah.”
She met his eyes again, and fell into them. For once he wasn’t arrogant or annoying or argumentative. He was just Michael. The façade he usually wore crumbled. His dark brown eyes searched hers; her green eyes searched his. For once, she liked what she saw.
Something red came into view, and he successfully broke the mood as he took a large bite of his apple.
He grinned with a full mouth of apple. “Good to know.”
He stood from the bench and left a bewildered Maria in his wake. Michael didn’t look back too afraid that he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. He ran an unsteady hand through his sandy brown hair. That had been close. More than five minutes in Maria’s presence was too much. He couldn’t let himself get that far gone again. It wasn’t safe.
He turned a corner and ran into a hard body. “Whoa.”
“Sorry,” the voice said. “Michael.”
Michael looked up to see his good friend. “Max. What’s up?”
“Nothing,” he absently said as he searched the faces of the crowd in the commons. When he didn’t see Liz anywhere, he asked, “Have you seen Kyle? I was supposed to meet with him five minutes ago.”
“Uh, yeah. I saw him over on the west side,” he said and pointed in the direction for good measure.
“Thanks.”
Max stealthily walked through the crowd, ignoring the intense gazes he received. He searched but he couldn’t find Kyle anywhere. He had looked at his room, had checked with Isabel, and now, he wasn't in the commons either. Nothing was going right today, and his shoulders sagged for not the first time that day.
The commons was loud with activity, but over the noise he heard a sniffle. It caught his attention, and he waited to hear it again. He turned to his right following the noise, and found Mabyn sitting against a far wall alone.
Her knees were pulled up to her chest and her head was bowed low. Her hair hid most of her face and the low light in the corner obscured her form a bit. But there was no mistaking it was Mabyn. As he neared her he saw tear tracks on her cheeks.
“Mabyn?” Max stooped to kneel in front of her.
She looked up, startled than anyone had noticed her. She didn’t want to be noticed. She wanted to disappear.
When she didn’t respond, he continued, “Mabyn, what’s wrong?”
She looked down, not answering his question and tugged at her necklace that Isabel had made for her. The white shells and stones contrasted nicely to her dark skin. She felt more than saw Max sit next to her on her left. Why was he here? Why wouldn’t he just leave?
Mabyn seemed so alone, and somehow hurt. Max wasn’t sure how to comfort her. She obviously didn’t want him here … she wanted to be alone. Kyle and Liz and everything else faded away as he focused on Mabyn and what she needed. He was trying desperately to keep that promise he made to himself so many nights ago. No matter what he had on his plate, Max would always make time for the little girl that effortlessly stole the hearts of the Antarians.
He tentatively put his arm around her shoulder, and then let it drift down to rub her back. She liked back rubs, he knew. Isabel had told him it always seemed to calm her. It worked now as he watched her shoulders relax and her breathing even. She closed her eyes and welcomed the comfort.
Several quiet minutes passed, each getting comfortable with the other being so close. While Max had taken to Mabyn very quickly, Mabyn had been slow to open up to him just as she was with most everyone. Whenever he attempted conversation with her, she would look at him, study him, and then look away and never say a word. The fact that she welcomed his attempt at consoling her was an ego boost for Max. He needed a victory today.
He lowered his voice, making sure no one would overhear. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” He tried not to laugh with delight when she scooted closer and leant into his embrace. He hugged her close.
Mabyn hesitated for only a minute, and then with a pain-filled sob whispered, “I miss my mommy.”
God is a comedian playing to an audience too afraid to laugh.
~Voltaire
~Voltaire
-
truman11883
- Enthusiastic Roswellian
- Posts: 69
- Joined: Fri Apr 04, 2003 8:45 pm
- Location: St. Louis, Missouri, USA, Planet Earth
Kale – Hawaiian; Strong and Manly
Zurine – Spanish; White
Part 16
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The air hung heavily in the small, crowded conference room. The small group, ten men and one woman, surrounding the large table was becoming weary. Hours on end every day for the past week, they would discuss, dispute, and debate about their militaristic options, and then depart without any resolution, only to start the process again the following morning.
Aron had invited Alex, Max, and Michael to sit in the council. While Michael had taken the invitation enthusiastically, Max had been reluctant at first. Summits and negotiations were not his particular cup of tea, neither was sitting in a stuffy room with overbearing, overgrown middle-aged men who loved to argue and hear themselves talk. But when he saw the woman seated to his right, the woman that had haunted him for the past few weeks, he found himself dragging Michael to the conference room in eager delight.
Alex had wanted to offer them some kind of reprieve, a little good news in the sea of bad. He had had some success in contacting Antar’s allies. He had assumed that Juniper, Dagan, and Sero had combined forces in Khivar’s attack against Antar, even though he had no confirmation.
So that had left Cantu and Antar, where one was all but deserted and the other was nothing more than a battlefield.
Alex had spoken with several of Aron’s advisors, and they had concluded that gaining support from allies, while very dangerous, was imperative. But ‘who’ to contact was almost as ridiculous as ‘how’ they would help them.
The questions rolled in his mind over and over. Who would they contact? How would they respond? Would they even come to Cantu to help?
Alex had wondered how far the news of the stricken Festival had gone, if the surrounding systems had heard … if they even cared.
He couldn’t help second-guessing anything now. Never had he once faltered in his allegiance or pride in Antar. And he still didn’t. But what would stop anyone else from giving up? Circumstances were certainly conducive to it.
The communications equipment that he had been given access to were certainly lacking. While he had been original and inventive with his equipment in the safehouse on Antar, he had needless to say been discouraged. Nothing was 100% operational and several items were outdated by more than five models or fifty years. Some of the pieces he didn’t even recognize, which troubled him the most. How many more obstacles were out there waiting for them?
He had worked for countless days, organizing, rebuilding, contacting. Some successful, some not.
Alex had yet to offer his new and pertinent information in the heated conversation going on around him. Everyone present at the table was either frustrated or hungry or depressed. The combination didn’t invite hospitable chitchat.
“Well, I say we get off of this damned planet. There’s nothing here but sand and sun. We won’t survive the war if Khivar keeps cutting off supplies,” one burly man heatedly offered.
Alex had missed most of the conversation, but he caught on quickly.
“We can’t just leave. There are too many people to relocate.”
“I’m not talking about relocating. I’m talking about saving our necks!” he countered.
A third man spoke up. “What are you suggesting? That we just leave the survivors to fend for themselves?!”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying!”
“Enough!”
Aron spoke calmly, but steady enough that his authority had not be questioned. He had taken the position of moderator since the council, plus Alex, Max, and Michael, had started to meet daily. Their arrival, while rejuvenating, had brought a handicap that Aron had not foreseen. Even the Prince of Antar couldn’t bring in food or water. The survivors were restless, and more mouths to feed meant less for everyone else.
“We’re not leaving, and that’s that.”
The burly man huffed; his red face seemed to boil blood under his skin. Max didn’t know who he was and certainly didn’t like him. He was the type of man who, when you saw passing by, made an effort to avoid. Max wished he didn’t have to sit in direct view of him.
“Well, we will need to find another alternative. What supplies Khivar actually sends is small enough, but with the guards at the docks hoarding them … Kale’s right. We won’t last much longer this way.”
“What do you suggest besides relocating?” another man asked him, giving a brooding Kale a stiff look.
“I guess we could try to take the docks back. But if Khivar hears of an uprising he’ll send more guards to finish us off.”
“I agree,” Aron said. “We need to come up with a solution that doesn’t risk everyone’s life but at the same time doesn’t give away our location.”
Kale spoke again. “There is no solution. Khivar’s made sure of it. We can’t contact any allies and even if we could they wouldn’t help us. It’s a suicide mission.”
Alex decided to speak for the first time. “That’s not true.”
His blue eyes widened as every head turned in his direction.
“What do you mean Alex?” Aron asked quietly.
He hesitated swallowing passed the lump in his throat. “Well, I’ve been working on the communications equipment for the past few days. I was able to get a clear signal, and … and I contacted two allies.”
A hushed murmur rumbled through the conference room.
“And?” Aron prompted.
“My contacts at the planets Miya and Zurine both agreed to send reinforcements as soon as possible. Just one ship from each planet for now, with supplies and a few soldiers. After we establish a strong position, and they are able to relay information to their superiors, they’ve agreed to provide troops, supplies, and anything else we might need to fight Khivar. They’re spreading the word of Max and Isabel’s survival as we speak.”
“So, they’ve heard of the Festival?”
Alex turned to his left, facing the man who had asked the question. “Yes, but they didn’t know that the Prince and Princess survived. Khivar had declared himself King of Antar. They just assumed the royal family was dead.”
“How soon will they be here?” another eager voice asked.
“Within a few days. The Zurine ship will take longer since they’re so far away. I told them to land after night fall at the coordinates you gave me,” Alex said, indicating Aron. “The Miyan ship will be here in less than forty-eight hours.”
The questions continued, most now eager at the information Alex offered. They had been so hopeless for so long. They were like starving men getting their first drops of water.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Max covertly watched Elizabeth from the corner of his eye, not really hearing the conversation. She sat to his right, obviously avoiding his gaze.
She always looks so beautiful, he thought. Even now with her eyes dulled in exhaustion.
Liz had been up late training another sword class, and then had disappeared with Maria into the desert afterward. He didn’t know why they had gone out so late, but he had worried that something might have happened to either one of them. With Maria’s laser gun and Liz’s sword, he was quite sure they each could handle themselves. But he still worried.
She hadn’t been in the commons or cafeteria much either. He knew she was avoiding him, and he began to wonder if there was more to it than just plain dislike. She seemed to despise him, when all he had done was go out of his way to be a friend. Of course he wanted more than friendship, but there was a starting point for every relationship and he didn’t want it to end before it even began. If it ever did begin.
They hadn’t talked, or rather he hadn’t talked to her, since the rejection in the desert three days ago. Suddenly spending time with Mabyn seemed more important than getting his heart trampled on.
After her sorrowful confession, he had made a concerted attempt to shower Mabyn with love and affection. He never wanted her to doubt her place among them, even though he instinctively knew she did anyway.
They had talked, as well as a grown man and a little girl could, about their mothers’ deaths. They formed a bond that day, alternating stories of love and loss. He knew what it was like to loose a mother, and she found comfort knowing she wasn’t completely alone.
Max hoped that one day she would be able to move on as best she could and live a happy life. Maybe with Kyle, maybe with Isabel, maybe with another family somewhere. Maybe with him, he thought. He was only twenty, but a little girl deserved a good home and if push came to shove, he would take her in without a second thought. She deserved that much, a safe home with someone who loved her. And it certainly wasn’t like she was a difficult child.
She had a fighting spirit. Even despite her grief, she smiled through her tears as she spoke of her mother. The bakery, the smells and delicious pastries, the bedtime stories, her mother’s beautiful singing. They were memories that she would have the rest of her life.
Max found himself wishing he had made more time for his mother and father. For so long he pushed them away. The Festival made him reevaluate his life, and what he wanted. He didn’t want to be the immature twenty-something playboy that he was before. As he thought about it more each day, he knew what he wanted.
He wanted to rule Antar. The realization had shocked him quite significantly at first. Max wanted to reclaim his planet, take the throne and rebuild his home to the splendor that it once was. He wanted to help Cantu and its people, and bring Khivar to justice.
He wasn’t doing it for himself. He wasn’t doing it for Isabel or Michael. He wasn’t even doing it for his parents, even though he knew they were smiling down on him.
It was refreshing. For once in his life he wanted to do the right thing for no other reason than to help people. It wasn’t selfish, it wasn’t narcissistic. It was almost as if the Festival had been a cleansing. The blood, carnage, and death were a means of transformation, and now all that lay before him was unsoiled and good and pure.
A new beginning, not only for him but for everyone involved as well. He only hoped that he could live up to their expectations.
Max shook himself out of his reverie. He had been so preoccupied that he had missed most of the conference. He looked up to find Aron and Alex talking candidly now, while Michael conversed with other military personnel. Max felt eyes on him and turned to his right, more out of habit than anything else, and found himself under deep scrutiny from the brown-eyed angel before him.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
She hadn’t meant to do it. It just happened. One minute she was making a concerted effort to ignore the Prince and concentrate solely on the conference.
And the next his thoughts echoed in her mind unhidden and unwelcome.
Liz didn’t even know how the connection sprang to life in the first place. She wasn’t looking at him, she wasn’t touching him.
But even more disturbing was not how, but why.
Why did the Prince affect her so much, when she wanted nothing more than to wash her hands of him?
She stopped her internal sermon short, suddenly thinking that that wasn’t entirely true.
Liz had to admit, he wasn’t all bad. He did have some redeeming qualities, but for her liking and sanity, she preferred not to list them or acknowledge them in any way.
It was easier to bar him from her life and leave it at that. But is it fair? her conscience kept asking her.
Ever since that confessional she had witnessed in the commons, she had questioned her feelings toward Max.
She hadn’t meant to spy or overhear. Mabyn’s voice had called to her over the dim of the midday crowd. Her sobs had echoed in Liz’s heart.
She had seen Max hugging the little girl close, comforting her, encouraging a small smile to form on Mabyn’s lips. Liz hadn’t realized that a similar smile echoed on her own lips at that moment.
All of her preconceived notions of the man before her had seemed irrelevant. Yes, he was handsome and charming. Liz had heard of the Prince and his tendencies of fraternization and debauchery, and she had assumed that it had been true, and punished him for actions that he had not yet committed.
But seeing him with Mabyn, she seriously questioned the gossip. He hadn’t been a ladies’ man or playboy. He had been a brother and father figure. Max had been a ray of sunshine in Mabyn’s gloomy mood.
Liz wondered if she was wrong, and had gone so far as to ask for Maria’s council.
She hadn’t been sure if doing so made her look utterly desperate or completely stupid, but Maria had seemed to take her inquiries in stride and offered her typical offbeat responses that made Liz both laugh and think.
“Look Liz, the main thing you have to ask yourself is, do you really want to not be with him?”
Her eyebrows scrunched in thought, and responded self-consciously, “I’m not sure. I’m definitely … attracted to him, but … there are just so many other things to consider. I mean, this is hardly the time to get involved with someone.”
“True,” Maria responded.
She played with the sand in her hands, as her legs hung over the edge of a giant rock cliff. The view was incredible, brilliant stars, shimmering sand, dark blue sky, the moon casting more than enough light. Liz sat to her left with her legs crossed, leaning her elbows on her knees.
“But all he’s asked so far is friendship. Right? He hasn’t implied anything more, has he?”
“No.” Liz sighed heavily, and turned her eyes up to the star-laden sky. “He’s been the perfect gentleman.”
Maria looked at her in total confusion, “And you’re complaining because…?”
Liz was silent for a moment, seriously considering Maria’s question. Why was she complaining? Was it so wrong to want something that seemed so right? That could make her really, truly happy? After seeing Max and Mabyn together, she seriously doubted her assumption that he was using his position as an influence. If that had been the case, he wouldn’t have willing comforted Mabyn. He would have handed her off to Isabel or Kyle or someone else. It just didn’t seem to fit anymore.
“I’m scared Maria. I … I’ve never been in a relationship before. Even if I said yes … I wouldn’t know what to do or what to say. I hate that feeling,” she said in a tiny voice. “The doubt and anxiety and…”
“Fear?”
Liz hung her head, and nodded slightly. She rubbed her forehead as a headache suddenly overcame her. Why was this so hard? Why was everything so hard?
“Its okay to be scared, Liz. Hell, I bet Maxie is pissing himself, he’s so scared.”
When Liz gave her an incredulous look, she continued. “Come on Liz. You’re not exactly the easiest person to approach. You’re just a little intimidating,” she said, illustrating her point by bringing her thumb and forefinger close together. “With the sword, and the ‘I’ll Kick Your Ass’ looks you give everyone, I’m surprised he even had the balls to approach you once.”
Liz gave a small laugh. It was true, she had to admit. Now, what the hell was she going to do about it?
“What would you do, Maria?”
“What would I do? I’d play hard to get, but if you played any harder, Maxie wouldn’t know which end was up. I guess, if I were you … I’d just take baby steps. You know? A little bit at a time.”
“Like what?” Liz asked.
“Well, for starters, you could be nice to him.”
“Aw, where’s the fun in that?”
The conversation had dissolved into laughter after that, and later Liz had mulled over Maria’s Words of Wisdom.
Maybe Maria was right. Maybe she should give Max a chance. Even having him as a friend would be better than nothing at all.
And now as she allowed her eyes to really drink Max in for the first time, she found herself wanting more. For the second time in her life, she wanted something for herself. The first had been a friendship with Maria all those years ago in the small shop that Amy owned, and it had had devastating results. She couldn’t help but be a little hesitant.
But his eyes were so kind, his thoughts were pleasant, his aura was alluring, his mouth and lips so sensual and inviting, so unlike that of the hunter.
And then his eyes met hers, and she nearly fainted.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“I think that’s all for today,” Aron announced as that council came to an end, quickly ending Elizabeth and Maxwell’s staring contest.
“We’ll meet same time tomorrow. Alex,” he said turning to the young man at his left. “I think I speak for everyone when I say, keep up the good work.”
Everyone nodded in agreement, offering their wishes of luck and began to exit.
Surprisingly the stuffy room seemed pleasant; no one had a hidden agenda. Everyone had a smile on his face, a ray of hope in their eyes. They were content in the knowledge that someone was going to help them, and soon.
Max eventually returned his breathing to normal. Her eyes, he thought. For once, her eyes hadn’t been hostile. He stumbling as he gathered his things, suddenly unsure of himself.
What had he done, or had he done anything, to turn her around? He wasn’t sure, but was quite sure he would find out and continue doing it. Whatever it was, it had had a tremendous impact.
Instead of accusing and condescending, her eyes had been inquisitive and inviting and oh so tempting. It was as if she had been calling to him. He looked up at her as he stood from his chair, and heard the same call all over again. It never seemed to stop. When it came to Elizabeth, he was a goner. One taste of her soul and he was literally starving for more.
He neared the door to leave, with Michael ahead of him. Max noticed she lagged behind the crowd, meeting his gaze and then averting her eyes quickly. He watched as she looked to Aron and then back to her feet, and he realized her concern. She wasn’t sure of how Aron would respond.
He would keep it friendly, amicable, Max decided. He had a feeling something was different, and if anything happened, he would make sure that an overprotective guardian didn’t ruin it. Hopefully it wouldn’t scare Liz away. He mentally crossed his fingers.
Max reached the exit first, and with a deep, discrete breath, opened and held the door for Liz. She seemed uncertain at first, seemingly considering the friendly gesture.
And then she looked at him with her deep brown, penetrating eyes. Just a few seconds passed, and a shy but beautiful grin spread across her face, along with a look of decision.
She looked to him as a friend, not a foe, as she said softly, “Thank you … Max.”
Zurine – Spanish; White
Part 16
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The air hung heavily in the small, crowded conference room. The small group, ten men and one woman, surrounding the large table was becoming weary. Hours on end every day for the past week, they would discuss, dispute, and debate about their militaristic options, and then depart without any resolution, only to start the process again the following morning.
Aron had invited Alex, Max, and Michael to sit in the council. While Michael had taken the invitation enthusiastically, Max had been reluctant at first. Summits and negotiations were not his particular cup of tea, neither was sitting in a stuffy room with overbearing, overgrown middle-aged men who loved to argue and hear themselves talk. But when he saw the woman seated to his right, the woman that had haunted him for the past few weeks, he found himself dragging Michael to the conference room in eager delight.
Alex had wanted to offer them some kind of reprieve, a little good news in the sea of bad. He had had some success in contacting Antar’s allies. He had assumed that Juniper, Dagan, and Sero had combined forces in Khivar’s attack against Antar, even though he had no confirmation.
So that had left Cantu and Antar, where one was all but deserted and the other was nothing more than a battlefield.
Alex had spoken with several of Aron’s advisors, and they had concluded that gaining support from allies, while very dangerous, was imperative. But ‘who’ to contact was almost as ridiculous as ‘how’ they would help them.
The questions rolled in his mind over and over. Who would they contact? How would they respond? Would they even come to Cantu to help?
Alex had wondered how far the news of the stricken Festival had gone, if the surrounding systems had heard … if they even cared.
He couldn’t help second-guessing anything now. Never had he once faltered in his allegiance or pride in Antar. And he still didn’t. But what would stop anyone else from giving up? Circumstances were certainly conducive to it.
The communications equipment that he had been given access to were certainly lacking. While he had been original and inventive with his equipment in the safehouse on Antar, he had needless to say been discouraged. Nothing was 100% operational and several items were outdated by more than five models or fifty years. Some of the pieces he didn’t even recognize, which troubled him the most. How many more obstacles were out there waiting for them?
He had worked for countless days, organizing, rebuilding, contacting. Some successful, some not.
Alex had yet to offer his new and pertinent information in the heated conversation going on around him. Everyone present at the table was either frustrated or hungry or depressed. The combination didn’t invite hospitable chitchat.
“Well, I say we get off of this damned planet. There’s nothing here but sand and sun. We won’t survive the war if Khivar keeps cutting off supplies,” one burly man heatedly offered.
Alex had missed most of the conversation, but he caught on quickly.
“We can’t just leave. There are too many people to relocate.”
“I’m not talking about relocating. I’m talking about saving our necks!” he countered.
A third man spoke up. “What are you suggesting? That we just leave the survivors to fend for themselves?!”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying!”
“Enough!”
Aron spoke calmly, but steady enough that his authority had not be questioned. He had taken the position of moderator since the council, plus Alex, Max, and Michael, had started to meet daily. Their arrival, while rejuvenating, had brought a handicap that Aron had not foreseen. Even the Prince of Antar couldn’t bring in food or water. The survivors were restless, and more mouths to feed meant less for everyone else.
“We’re not leaving, and that’s that.”
The burly man huffed; his red face seemed to boil blood under his skin. Max didn’t know who he was and certainly didn’t like him. He was the type of man who, when you saw passing by, made an effort to avoid. Max wished he didn’t have to sit in direct view of him.
“Well, we will need to find another alternative. What supplies Khivar actually sends is small enough, but with the guards at the docks hoarding them … Kale’s right. We won’t last much longer this way.”
“What do you suggest besides relocating?” another man asked him, giving a brooding Kale a stiff look.
“I guess we could try to take the docks back. But if Khivar hears of an uprising he’ll send more guards to finish us off.”
“I agree,” Aron said. “We need to come up with a solution that doesn’t risk everyone’s life but at the same time doesn’t give away our location.”
Kale spoke again. “There is no solution. Khivar’s made sure of it. We can’t contact any allies and even if we could they wouldn’t help us. It’s a suicide mission.”
Alex decided to speak for the first time. “That’s not true.”
His blue eyes widened as every head turned in his direction.
“What do you mean Alex?” Aron asked quietly.
He hesitated swallowing passed the lump in his throat. “Well, I’ve been working on the communications equipment for the past few days. I was able to get a clear signal, and … and I contacted two allies.”
A hushed murmur rumbled through the conference room.
“And?” Aron prompted.
“My contacts at the planets Miya and Zurine both agreed to send reinforcements as soon as possible. Just one ship from each planet for now, with supplies and a few soldiers. After we establish a strong position, and they are able to relay information to their superiors, they’ve agreed to provide troops, supplies, and anything else we might need to fight Khivar. They’re spreading the word of Max and Isabel’s survival as we speak.”
“So, they’ve heard of the Festival?”
Alex turned to his left, facing the man who had asked the question. “Yes, but they didn’t know that the Prince and Princess survived. Khivar had declared himself King of Antar. They just assumed the royal family was dead.”
“How soon will they be here?” another eager voice asked.
“Within a few days. The Zurine ship will take longer since they’re so far away. I told them to land after night fall at the coordinates you gave me,” Alex said, indicating Aron. “The Miyan ship will be here in less than forty-eight hours.”
The questions continued, most now eager at the information Alex offered. They had been so hopeless for so long. They were like starving men getting their first drops of water.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Max covertly watched Elizabeth from the corner of his eye, not really hearing the conversation. She sat to his right, obviously avoiding his gaze.
She always looks so beautiful, he thought. Even now with her eyes dulled in exhaustion.
Liz had been up late training another sword class, and then had disappeared with Maria into the desert afterward. He didn’t know why they had gone out so late, but he had worried that something might have happened to either one of them. With Maria’s laser gun and Liz’s sword, he was quite sure they each could handle themselves. But he still worried.
She hadn’t been in the commons or cafeteria much either. He knew she was avoiding him, and he began to wonder if there was more to it than just plain dislike. She seemed to despise him, when all he had done was go out of his way to be a friend. Of course he wanted more than friendship, but there was a starting point for every relationship and he didn’t want it to end before it even began. If it ever did begin.
They hadn’t talked, or rather he hadn’t talked to her, since the rejection in the desert three days ago. Suddenly spending time with Mabyn seemed more important than getting his heart trampled on.
After her sorrowful confession, he had made a concerted attempt to shower Mabyn with love and affection. He never wanted her to doubt her place among them, even though he instinctively knew she did anyway.
They had talked, as well as a grown man and a little girl could, about their mothers’ deaths. They formed a bond that day, alternating stories of love and loss. He knew what it was like to loose a mother, and she found comfort knowing she wasn’t completely alone.
Max hoped that one day she would be able to move on as best she could and live a happy life. Maybe with Kyle, maybe with Isabel, maybe with another family somewhere. Maybe with him, he thought. He was only twenty, but a little girl deserved a good home and if push came to shove, he would take her in without a second thought. She deserved that much, a safe home with someone who loved her. And it certainly wasn’t like she was a difficult child.
She had a fighting spirit. Even despite her grief, she smiled through her tears as she spoke of her mother. The bakery, the smells and delicious pastries, the bedtime stories, her mother’s beautiful singing. They were memories that she would have the rest of her life.
Max found himself wishing he had made more time for his mother and father. For so long he pushed them away. The Festival made him reevaluate his life, and what he wanted. He didn’t want to be the immature twenty-something playboy that he was before. As he thought about it more each day, he knew what he wanted.
He wanted to rule Antar. The realization had shocked him quite significantly at first. Max wanted to reclaim his planet, take the throne and rebuild his home to the splendor that it once was. He wanted to help Cantu and its people, and bring Khivar to justice.
He wasn’t doing it for himself. He wasn’t doing it for Isabel or Michael. He wasn’t even doing it for his parents, even though he knew they were smiling down on him.
It was refreshing. For once in his life he wanted to do the right thing for no other reason than to help people. It wasn’t selfish, it wasn’t narcissistic. It was almost as if the Festival had been a cleansing. The blood, carnage, and death were a means of transformation, and now all that lay before him was unsoiled and good and pure.
A new beginning, not only for him but for everyone involved as well. He only hoped that he could live up to their expectations.
Max shook himself out of his reverie. He had been so preoccupied that he had missed most of the conference. He looked up to find Aron and Alex talking candidly now, while Michael conversed with other military personnel. Max felt eyes on him and turned to his right, more out of habit than anything else, and found himself under deep scrutiny from the brown-eyed angel before him.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
She hadn’t meant to do it. It just happened. One minute she was making a concerted effort to ignore the Prince and concentrate solely on the conference.
And the next his thoughts echoed in her mind unhidden and unwelcome.
Liz didn’t even know how the connection sprang to life in the first place. She wasn’t looking at him, she wasn’t touching him.
But even more disturbing was not how, but why.
Why did the Prince affect her so much, when she wanted nothing more than to wash her hands of him?
She stopped her internal sermon short, suddenly thinking that that wasn’t entirely true.
Liz had to admit, he wasn’t all bad. He did have some redeeming qualities, but for her liking and sanity, she preferred not to list them or acknowledge them in any way.
It was easier to bar him from her life and leave it at that. But is it fair? her conscience kept asking her.
Ever since that confessional she had witnessed in the commons, she had questioned her feelings toward Max.
She hadn’t meant to spy or overhear. Mabyn’s voice had called to her over the dim of the midday crowd. Her sobs had echoed in Liz’s heart.
She had seen Max hugging the little girl close, comforting her, encouraging a small smile to form on Mabyn’s lips. Liz hadn’t realized that a similar smile echoed on her own lips at that moment.
All of her preconceived notions of the man before her had seemed irrelevant. Yes, he was handsome and charming. Liz had heard of the Prince and his tendencies of fraternization and debauchery, and she had assumed that it had been true, and punished him for actions that he had not yet committed.
But seeing him with Mabyn, she seriously questioned the gossip. He hadn’t been a ladies’ man or playboy. He had been a brother and father figure. Max had been a ray of sunshine in Mabyn’s gloomy mood.
Liz wondered if she was wrong, and had gone so far as to ask for Maria’s council.
She hadn’t been sure if doing so made her look utterly desperate or completely stupid, but Maria had seemed to take her inquiries in stride and offered her typical offbeat responses that made Liz both laugh and think.
“Look Liz, the main thing you have to ask yourself is, do you really want to not be with him?”
Her eyebrows scrunched in thought, and responded self-consciously, “I’m not sure. I’m definitely … attracted to him, but … there are just so many other things to consider. I mean, this is hardly the time to get involved with someone.”
“True,” Maria responded.
She played with the sand in her hands, as her legs hung over the edge of a giant rock cliff. The view was incredible, brilliant stars, shimmering sand, dark blue sky, the moon casting more than enough light. Liz sat to her left with her legs crossed, leaning her elbows on her knees.
“But all he’s asked so far is friendship. Right? He hasn’t implied anything more, has he?”
“No.” Liz sighed heavily, and turned her eyes up to the star-laden sky. “He’s been the perfect gentleman.”
Maria looked at her in total confusion, “And you’re complaining because…?”
Liz was silent for a moment, seriously considering Maria’s question. Why was she complaining? Was it so wrong to want something that seemed so right? That could make her really, truly happy? After seeing Max and Mabyn together, she seriously doubted her assumption that he was using his position as an influence. If that had been the case, he wouldn’t have willing comforted Mabyn. He would have handed her off to Isabel or Kyle or someone else. It just didn’t seem to fit anymore.
“I’m scared Maria. I … I’ve never been in a relationship before. Even if I said yes … I wouldn’t know what to do or what to say. I hate that feeling,” she said in a tiny voice. “The doubt and anxiety and…”
“Fear?”
Liz hung her head, and nodded slightly. She rubbed her forehead as a headache suddenly overcame her. Why was this so hard? Why was everything so hard?
“Its okay to be scared, Liz. Hell, I bet Maxie is pissing himself, he’s so scared.”
When Liz gave her an incredulous look, she continued. “Come on Liz. You’re not exactly the easiest person to approach. You’re just a little intimidating,” she said, illustrating her point by bringing her thumb and forefinger close together. “With the sword, and the ‘I’ll Kick Your Ass’ looks you give everyone, I’m surprised he even had the balls to approach you once.”
Liz gave a small laugh. It was true, she had to admit. Now, what the hell was she going to do about it?
“What would you do, Maria?”
“What would I do? I’d play hard to get, but if you played any harder, Maxie wouldn’t know which end was up. I guess, if I were you … I’d just take baby steps. You know? A little bit at a time.”
“Like what?” Liz asked.
“Well, for starters, you could be nice to him.”
“Aw, where’s the fun in that?”
The conversation had dissolved into laughter after that, and later Liz had mulled over Maria’s Words of Wisdom.
Maybe Maria was right. Maybe she should give Max a chance. Even having him as a friend would be better than nothing at all.
And now as she allowed her eyes to really drink Max in for the first time, she found herself wanting more. For the second time in her life, she wanted something for herself. The first had been a friendship with Maria all those years ago in the small shop that Amy owned, and it had had devastating results. She couldn’t help but be a little hesitant.
But his eyes were so kind, his thoughts were pleasant, his aura was alluring, his mouth and lips so sensual and inviting, so unlike that of the hunter.
And then his eyes met hers, and she nearly fainted.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“I think that’s all for today,” Aron announced as that council came to an end, quickly ending Elizabeth and Maxwell’s staring contest.
“We’ll meet same time tomorrow. Alex,” he said turning to the young man at his left. “I think I speak for everyone when I say, keep up the good work.”
Everyone nodded in agreement, offering their wishes of luck and began to exit.
Surprisingly the stuffy room seemed pleasant; no one had a hidden agenda. Everyone had a smile on his face, a ray of hope in their eyes. They were content in the knowledge that someone was going to help them, and soon.
Max eventually returned his breathing to normal. Her eyes, he thought. For once, her eyes hadn’t been hostile. He stumbling as he gathered his things, suddenly unsure of himself.
What had he done, or had he done anything, to turn her around? He wasn’t sure, but was quite sure he would find out and continue doing it. Whatever it was, it had had a tremendous impact.
Instead of accusing and condescending, her eyes had been inquisitive and inviting and oh so tempting. It was as if she had been calling to him. He looked up at her as he stood from his chair, and heard the same call all over again. It never seemed to stop. When it came to Elizabeth, he was a goner. One taste of her soul and he was literally starving for more.
He neared the door to leave, with Michael ahead of him. Max noticed she lagged behind the crowd, meeting his gaze and then averting her eyes quickly. He watched as she looked to Aron and then back to her feet, and he realized her concern. She wasn’t sure of how Aron would respond.
He would keep it friendly, amicable, Max decided. He had a feeling something was different, and if anything happened, he would make sure that an overprotective guardian didn’t ruin it. Hopefully it wouldn’t scare Liz away. He mentally crossed his fingers.
Max reached the exit first, and with a deep, discrete breath, opened and held the door for Liz. She seemed uncertain at first, seemingly considering the friendly gesture.
And then she looked at him with her deep brown, penetrating eyes. Just a few seconds passed, and a shy but beautiful grin spread across her face, along with a look of decision.
She looked to him as a friend, not a foe, as she said softly, “Thank you … Max.”
God is a comedian playing to an audience too afraid to laugh.
~Voltaire
~Voltaire
-
truman11883
- Enthusiastic Roswellian
- Posts: 69
- Joined: Fri Apr 04, 2003 8:45 pm
- Location: St. Louis, Missouri, USA, Planet Earth
Marcus – Latin; Warlike
Part 17 - Conclusion
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Larek sat on his cot, the headache he had been suffering for weeks finally starting to ebb. His brother was not far away, sitting much the way that Larek was, only instead of squinting in the light, Brody groaned with his pain every few minutes, swaying in a non-existent breeze.
The medical tent they had called home was now almost deserted. Most … no, all of the young cadets and soldiers that had been on their ship had perished.
All but them.
A strange wave of emotion had swept through Larek when he was told that for the first time. An emotion he had never felt before.
All dead, save for he and his brother. A painful death at that, most either severely burned or suffering internal injuries that were beyond the small medical staff’s capabilities.
What of their families? Larek had thought. What of their wives and children and parents waiting for them back on Sero?
Larek had never had to answer to anyone save Khivar. He had always executed his missions with his brother at his side, and returning to their quarters afterward with a sense of accomplishment and pride.
After the nurse had told them of the massacre and how no one else had lived, Larek hadn’t been able to look at himself in the mirror. He hadn’t been able to speak for days, the unknown emotion welling so fiercely that his throat clogged and trapped his voice.
His eyes would burn every time he thought of the fatherless children crying into their mother’s arms. His chest would swell and then drop with … that emotion that plagued him.
Larek thought he might know what name to attach to it, but he was very reluctant. To feel it was one thing, but to admit it was quite another.
He wasn’t ready for that yet. He wasn’t sure if he ever would be.
A young cadet sidled up to them and asked the two brothers to follow him. And they did without a word. Not that they were burning with conversation. Brody and Larek had remained uncharacteristically quiet over the weeks they recovered their injuries. No words could explain how they felt or grieved or mourned.
The young man guided them to the ship waiting outside the medical tent, and Larek and Brody entered and were greeted with the smug expressions on the faces of the staff. They peered at them, criticizing and judging them. Seeing deep into them.
Larek wondered if they saw the stain of the ‘emotion’ he was trying desperately to disguise inside himself.
Khivar waited, an unreadable expression on his face, at the head of the small crowd. His stature was as it always had been: impressive, intimidating.
Predictable.
The young cadet mumbled words, “The brothers Larek and Brody, sir,” but Larek wasn’t listening. He stared at his feet in practiced reverence, although his mind raced. He had not forgotten their leader’s parting words so many weeks ago.
Even though he had tried.
He and Brody were to die if they failed their mission to retrieve the Prince.
They had failed.
Dread crept up Larek’s back, but then dissipated quickly.
This was meant to be his fate. This was what he deserved. The slow, painful death that was sure to meet them was what Larek dutifully prepared himself for.
It was meant.
His heart and mind sagged in relief. A heavy weight seemed to metaphorically lift from his shoulders. He would pay. Perhaps the pain he endured would lessen the pain of the faceless people without a son or father or husband on his home planet.
“Follow me,” Khivar said in a low voice. They followed blindly.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Brody tremble, whether from pain or fear Larek wasn’t sure.
A long tunnel was trekked, low light hardly illuminating the shadows. Several doors were passed with armed guards standing outside them.
Khivar then stopped, turning slowly to the brothers.
“I am sure you two think that what lies behind this door is your very painful death.”
When neither of them offered a surprised response, he smiled cynically. “No doubt, you would expect that. However, I am sparing you … for now.”
This did result in their heads turning upward, and Brody’s eyes bulging in shock, his jaw falling nearly to the fall.
He laughed openly at them. “The only reason you are to live is because your mission was not a total loss. Despite the fact that everyone on your ship died. There were two survivors, though. And not you two.”
With that, he pressed his hand to the control panel, and the door slid open revealing two men lying on cots.
The two men that had been brought down by darts in Larek and Brody’s feeble attempt to apprehend the Prince.
“These two men will give us the answers we want. And you two will get them … any way you can.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Alex, among several other men, stood in the sand dunes waiting for the ship to arrive. Most were silent, some coughing in nervous restlessness. The stars twinkled overhead and the sky was a blue-black. Tonight was the night … the night the first relief ship would arrive.
It had been a day and a half since the Miyan ship had left their planet. Just hours ago they had notified Alex that they were nearing Cantu and would land within the hour. Aron had dispatched soldiers and other guards to help welcome the ship and bring in the supplies, all while watching for any of Khivar’s men.
They saw the lights of the ship stop in the darkened sky, slowly turn, and then descend at a snails pace. They’re cloaking device had been activated, and to the untrained or unsuspecting eye, their lights looked like stars. But Alex was very trained, and turned to the soldiers around him and told them to get ready. Relief was on the way.
Soon the sand and air around them circulated, swirled, and spun in earnest, forcing most to look away and guard their eyes.
Alex did not. He never noticed, as his heart counted the seconds that passed with each hard, thumping beat. He didn’t hear the hum of the ship or the whistling wind. He didn’t feel the cold of the night or the metal of the gun in his hand. He never spoke a word aloud.
But he prayed.
He prayed, for perhaps the first time in his life, for Fate to allow this one request. The survivors needed this more than they needed their next breath.
The guards settled on the near cliff stood watch, waiting for any enemy activity; their guns were cocked and their ammunition ready. There were five men with the specific job of carrying the supplies in quickly. Alex and two others were to take the captain of the ship and his crew in to talk to Aron, to welcome them and thank them.
The ship landed in the sand, and the sound of rushing air washed over them as the pressure stabilizer released. A fog of steam emitted from the lower cabin. The lights died and the desert grew quiet. The large access ramp began to lower slowly, and Alex’s heart beat even faster in anticipation.
It was too dark to discern facial characteristics, but Alex guessed the first man walking down the ramp was the captain, Marcus.
Two others followed close behind him, and as Alex took a step forward, the rest of his team sprang into action.
Controlled chaos ensued. The supplies were gathered quickly, Alex and the others guided the Miyan crew into the nearby cave.
“Welcome,” Alex said with sincerity. “I hope your entry wasn’t too bad.”
“No, fine. I doubt Khivar’s expecting many visitors on the dune planet,” Marcus answered. “There were a few probes out searching the outer rim, but for the most part, it looks like all the activity is at Antar.”
“Well, that’s good for now, I guess. Come on. Aron and the Royal Family have been waiting to meet with you.”
Marcus nodded and motioned for his crew to follow. “How have they been? The Prince and Princess?”
“Better than expected, considering. They have adjusted well.” He averted his eyes, and hoped that his words were something more than a little exaggerated. He hoped that his optimism would be genuine soon.
He hoped the Royal Family would heal quickly.
“Good, I was worried about them. Its gotta be rough, you know? Losing your family like that.”
Alex nodded. “Yeah.”
Soon they were winding their way through the tunnels toward the large conference room.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The wind gave a distant howl in her ears, no doubt from the ship that had landed just beyond the rise of the dunes behind her. No other movement caught her eye, however. No scurrying desert rodent or slithering reptile. The desert slept, even though Liz’s mind continued to race with life.
She was sure Aron and the survivors expected her to attend the introductions and welcome ceremony. But she only wanted to sit alone in the quiet of night.
Liz had spent the last several days succumbing to her feelings towards the Prince. Just feeling, not fighting, for the first time in her life.
And already she found herself falling faster and harder than she had intended.
She shivered, but not from the cold.
Max had done everything known to man to accommodate her hesitancy. When she was reluctant to talk, he invited Maria to tag along. When she was hesitant to train with him as a student, he tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible.
It was laughable actually. The Prince of Antar dressing, conversing, in every sense of the word acting like a commoner. He actually pulled it off quite nicely, though it was clear that no one would simply forget that he was a royal.
And he thought she didn’t know about the covert glances he sent her when she wasn’t looking. But she did. His eyes would practically burn her skin, and then pull away and hide when she glanced at him. It was exhilarating and confusing at the same time.
And she wasn’t at all sure how to act or say when he did look send those soul-searing looks her way. Maria had made several comments, all of which went in one ear and out the other. Maria had enough problems with Michael hounding her ever five minutes. Liz didn’t want to bother her friend with her own love problems as well.
Love?
Is that what she felt when he looked at her that way? That her stomach melted and her heart quickened and her skin tingled with his every move? That her tongue swelled in her mouth and her chest grew tight? Is that what all those wonderfully frightening reactions meant? That she was in love?
No, it couldn’t be. She was a warrior, not a lovesick fool.
A warrior didn’t love. A warrior didn’t pine for a man’s affections. A true warrior didn’t daydream about a Prince and what he would say or do next.
Yet, there she was, doing that very thing. Sitting on a sand dune, staring at the stars, wishing that Prince Maxwell would sweep her off her feet and teach her about love.
Because she knew she had so much to learn, so very much. Would he find her naiveté unappealing? Would he change his mind and run to the next open, willing set of arms he could find? Would he–
“Liz?”
She turned to her left and found the object of her affection towering over her with an inquisitive expression on her face.
“What are you doing out here?”
Liz swallowed hard before answering. “Um … I just – I just needed some air.”
“Oh,” he said. “Do you … do you want me to leave?”
“No!” She cringed when she heard the desperation in her voice, and mentally shook her head. Warrior, yeah right. “Um, no, you can join me. You know, if – if you want.” Her attempt at playing off his presence was pitiful.
Max took his seat next to her and tried desperately not to stare. The light from the stars and moons made her skin glow and shimmer. Her eyes sparkled.
“So…”
“So…”
The uncomfortable silence persisted until, “Oh, how’s Mabyn doing?”
“She’s doing good,” he said with a nod. “She misses Kyle, though. But it can’t be helped.”
“Yeah. But I guess for a ten year old kid it doesn’t make any sense.”
“No,” he shook his head with a sad smile on his face. “I tried explaining it to her. That Kyle and the other soldiers were off training and would be back in a week or so, but to a kid a week is a lifetime. Isabel helps some, but … it’s not the same.”
“I know how she feels.”
He turned to her. “Yeah?”
She nodded, but kept her eyes on the stars. “Yeah. Not understanding anything. Being scared and alone. It’s not a fun place for a kid to be.”
“Are you still?” he asked, with a great deal amount of hesitancy, not completely sure if he should dig that deep. “Scared and alone, I mean.”
Liz said with a quiet voice, “I’m not so much scared anymore. And … besides Aron, I’ve always been alone. We had to be.”
When he saw the sadness gloom over her features and her eyes cloud with emotion, Max said quickly, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No, its okay. I guess I got use to it after a while. Moving every few months. Not having any friends or family. Never having any roots or links to anyone or anything. It’s lonely but … when it’s the only thing you know it’s not so bad.”
She turned to look at him, finding him much closer than she had previously thought. “Its when you find out that there’s so much more out there, that things get … difficult.”
“Like now,” he said in a hushed voice. “You see family and relationships between people and … you wish you could have had that. Can have that.”
She nodded, because her throat was too tight to answer. Her skin was burning under his gaze again, only this time, she was looking at him too. He wasn’t hiding his perusal. Max was staring right at her … and she couldn’t look away.
“You’re not alone anymore Liz.” She sucked in a breath when her hand was enveloped in his. “You can have family now. You’re not alone.”
His breath hit her cheeks in a light puff of warm air. When had their faces drawn so close together? Not that she wanted him to move away. She didn’t want him moving at all.
Their noses touched, and when her slight, breathy sigh escaped her lips, he finally lost the battle that he had been waging, and kissed her. A kiss that was more acquainting than anything. Their skin touched in a whisper of an embrace, and then separated just as quickly.
His heart pounded in his chest, his pulse thundering in his ears. Max forced his eyes open to look at her, and found her eyes still closed, still clinging to the new monumental moment between them.
Who was he to deny her? He brought his lips to hers again, this time with more contact, more passion, more … everything.
And just when he reached to pull her closer to him, she broke free and ran, leaving him panting in confusion.
“Liz?” he said breathlessly. “Liz!”
But she had already disappeared over the dune.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
And so the journey began: a lost and disillusioned Prince embracing his Destiny.
A hardened warrior opening his heart for the first time.
A Princess blossoming outside of her duty-imposed cocoon.
And a once isolated woman trying to balance her heart with responsibility.
Antar had fallen by the hands of Khivar, just as Fate had predicted. The lush green forests and clear blue rivers were no more. Many thousands had suffered and died in the invasion. Many more questioned why such a thing would happen to the good and prosperous planet of Antar.
They knew not of the oracle that resided on the small dune planet.
They knew not of the prophet who had spent years raising and training her into the strongest weapon known to man.
They knew not of the survival of their Prince and Princess.
They knew not of the small army assembling to avenge the King and Queen’s death.
Part 17 - Conclusion
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Larek sat on his cot, the headache he had been suffering for weeks finally starting to ebb. His brother was not far away, sitting much the way that Larek was, only instead of squinting in the light, Brody groaned with his pain every few minutes, swaying in a non-existent breeze.
The medical tent they had called home was now almost deserted. Most … no, all of the young cadets and soldiers that had been on their ship had perished.
All but them.
A strange wave of emotion had swept through Larek when he was told that for the first time. An emotion he had never felt before.
All dead, save for he and his brother. A painful death at that, most either severely burned or suffering internal injuries that were beyond the small medical staff’s capabilities.
What of their families? Larek had thought. What of their wives and children and parents waiting for them back on Sero?
Larek had never had to answer to anyone save Khivar. He had always executed his missions with his brother at his side, and returning to their quarters afterward with a sense of accomplishment and pride.
After the nurse had told them of the massacre and how no one else had lived, Larek hadn’t been able to look at himself in the mirror. He hadn’t been able to speak for days, the unknown emotion welling so fiercely that his throat clogged and trapped his voice.
His eyes would burn every time he thought of the fatherless children crying into their mother’s arms. His chest would swell and then drop with … that emotion that plagued him.
Larek thought he might know what name to attach to it, but he was very reluctant. To feel it was one thing, but to admit it was quite another.
He wasn’t ready for that yet. He wasn’t sure if he ever would be.
A young cadet sidled up to them and asked the two brothers to follow him. And they did without a word. Not that they were burning with conversation. Brody and Larek had remained uncharacteristically quiet over the weeks they recovered their injuries. No words could explain how they felt or grieved or mourned.
The young man guided them to the ship waiting outside the medical tent, and Larek and Brody entered and were greeted with the smug expressions on the faces of the staff. They peered at them, criticizing and judging them. Seeing deep into them.
Larek wondered if they saw the stain of the ‘emotion’ he was trying desperately to disguise inside himself.
Khivar waited, an unreadable expression on his face, at the head of the small crowd. His stature was as it always had been: impressive, intimidating.
Predictable.
The young cadet mumbled words, “The brothers Larek and Brody, sir,” but Larek wasn’t listening. He stared at his feet in practiced reverence, although his mind raced. He had not forgotten their leader’s parting words so many weeks ago.
Even though he had tried.
He and Brody were to die if they failed their mission to retrieve the Prince.
They had failed.
Dread crept up Larek’s back, but then dissipated quickly.
This was meant to be his fate. This was what he deserved. The slow, painful death that was sure to meet them was what Larek dutifully prepared himself for.
It was meant.
His heart and mind sagged in relief. A heavy weight seemed to metaphorically lift from his shoulders. He would pay. Perhaps the pain he endured would lessen the pain of the faceless people without a son or father or husband on his home planet.
“Follow me,” Khivar said in a low voice. They followed blindly.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Brody tremble, whether from pain or fear Larek wasn’t sure.
A long tunnel was trekked, low light hardly illuminating the shadows. Several doors were passed with armed guards standing outside them.
Khivar then stopped, turning slowly to the brothers.
“I am sure you two think that what lies behind this door is your very painful death.”
When neither of them offered a surprised response, he smiled cynically. “No doubt, you would expect that. However, I am sparing you … for now.”
This did result in their heads turning upward, and Brody’s eyes bulging in shock, his jaw falling nearly to the fall.
He laughed openly at them. “The only reason you are to live is because your mission was not a total loss. Despite the fact that everyone on your ship died. There were two survivors, though. And not you two.”
With that, he pressed his hand to the control panel, and the door slid open revealing two men lying on cots.
The two men that had been brought down by darts in Larek and Brody’s feeble attempt to apprehend the Prince.
“These two men will give us the answers we want. And you two will get them … any way you can.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Alex, among several other men, stood in the sand dunes waiting for the ship to arrive. Most were silent, some coughing in nervous restlessness. The stars twinkled overhead and the sky was a blue-black. Tonight was the night … the night the first relief ship would arrive.
It had been a day and a half since the Miyan ship had left their planet. Just hours ago they had notified Alex that they were nearing Cantu and would land within the hour. Aron had dispatched soldiers and other guards to help welcome the ship and bring in the supplies, all while watching for any of Khivar’s men.
They saw the lights of the ship stop in the darkened sky, slowly turn, and then descend at a snails pace. They’re cloaking device had been activated, and to the untrained or unsuspecting eye, their lights looked like stars. But Alex was very trained, and turned to the soldiers around him and told them to get ready. Relief was on the way.
Soon the sand and air around them circulated, swirled, and spun in earnest, forcing most to look away and guard their eyes.
Alex did not. He never noticed, as his heart counted the seconds that passed with each hard, thumping beat. He didn’t hear the hum of the ship or the whistling wind. He didn’t feel the cold of the night or the metal of the gun in his hand. He never spoke a word aloud.
But he prayed.
He prayed, for perhaps the first time in his life, for Fate to allow this one request. The survivors needed this more than they needed their next breath.
The guards settled on the near cliff stood watch, waiting for any enemy activity; their guns were cocked and their ammunition ready. There were five men with the specific job of carrying the supplies in quickly. Alex and two others were to take the captain of the ship and his crew in to talk to Aron, to welcome them and thank them.
The ship landed in the sand, and the sound of rushing air washed over them as the pressure stabilizer released. A fog of steam emitted from the lower cabin. The lights died and the desert grew quiet. The large access ramp began to lower slowly, and Alex’s heart beat even faster in anticipation.
It was too dark to discern facial characteristics, but Alex guessed the first man walking down the ramp was the captain, Marcus.
Two others followed close behind him, and as Alex took a step forward, the rest of his team sprang into action.
Controlled chaos ensued. The supplies were gathered quickly, Alex and the others guided the Miyan crew into the nearby cave.
“Welcome,” Alex said with sincerity. “I hope your entry wasn’t too bad.”
“No, fine. I doubt Khivar’s expecting many visitors on the dune planet,” Marcus answered. “There were a few probes out searching the outer rim, but for the most part, it looks like all the activity is at Antar.”
“Well, that’s good for now, I guess. Come on. Aron and the Royal Family have been waiting to meet with you.”
Marcus nodded and motioned for his crew to follow. “How have they been? The Prince and Princess?”
“Better than expected, considering. They have adjusted well.” He averted his eyes, and hoped that his words were something more than a little exaggerated. He hoped that his optimism would be genuine soon.
He hoped the Royal Family would heal quickly.
“Good, I was worried about them. Its gotta be rough, you know? Losing your family like that.”
Alex nodded. “Yeah.”
Soon they were winding their way through the tunnels toward the large conference room.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The wind gave a distant howl in her ears, no doubt from the ship that had landed just beyond the rise of the dunes behind her. No other movement caught her eye, however. No scurrying desert rodent or slithering reptile. The desert slept, even though Liz’s mind continued to race with life.
She was sure Aron and the survivors expected her to attend the introductions and welcome ceremony. But she only wanted to sit alone in the quiet of night.
Liz had spent the last several days succumbing to her feelings towards the Prince. Just feeling, not fighting, for the first time in her life.
And already she found herself falling faster and harder than she had intended.
She shivered, but not from the cold.
Max had done everything known to man to accommodate her hesitancy. When she was reluctant to talk, he invited Maria to tag along. When she was hesitant to train with him as a student, he tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible.
It was laughable actually. The Prince of Antar dressing, conversing, in every sense of the word acting like a commoner. He actually pulled it off quite nicely, though it was clear that no one would simply forget that he was a royal.
And he thought she didn’t know about the covert glances he sent her when she wasn’t looking. But she did. His eyes would practically burn her skin, and then pull away and hide when she glanced at him. It was exhilarating and confusing at the same time.
And she wasn’t at all sure how to act or say when he did look send those soul-searing looks her way. Maria had made several comments, all of which went in one ear and out the other. Maria had enough problems with Michael hounding her ever five minutes. Liz didn’t want to bother her friend with her own love problems as well.
Love?
Is that what she felt when he looked at her that way? That her stomach melted and her heart quickened and her skin tingled with his every move? That her tongue swelled in her mouth and her chest grew tight? Is that what all those wonderfully frightening reactions meant? That she was in love?
No, it couldn’t be. She was a warrior, not a lovesick fool.
A warrior didn’t love. A warrior didn’t pine for a man’s affections. A true warrior didn’t daydream about a Prince and what he would say or do next.
Yet, there she was, doing that very thing. Sitting on a sand dune, staring at the stars, wishing that Prince Maxwell would sweep her off her feet and teach her about love.
Because she knew she had so much to learn, so very much. Would he find her naiveté unappealing? Would he change his mind and run to the next open, willing set of arms he could find? Would he–
“Liz?”
She turned to her left and found the object of her affection towering over her with an inquisitive expression on her face.
“What are you doing out here?”
Liz swallowed hard before answering. “Um … I just – I just needed some air.”
“Oh,” he said. “Do you … do you want me to leave?”
“No!” She cringed when she heard the desperation in her voice, and mentally shook her head. Warrior, yeah right. “Um, no, you can join me. You know, if – if you want.” Her attempt at playing off his presence was pitiful.
Max took his seat next to her and tried desperately not to stare. The light from the stars and moons made her skin glow and shimmer. Her eyes sparkled.
“So…”
“So…”
The uncomfortable silence persisted until, “Oh, how’s Mabyn doing?”
“She’s doing good,” he said with a nod. “She misses Kyle, though. But it can’t be helped.”
“Yeah. But I guess for a ten year old kid it doesn’t make any sense.”
“No,” he shook his head with a sad smile on his face. “I tried explaining it to her. That Kyle and the other soldiers were off training and would be back in a week or so, but to a kid a week is a lifetime. Isabel helps some, but … it’s not the same.”
“I know how she feels.”
He turned to her. “Yeah?”
She nodded, but kept her eyes on the stars. “Yeah. Not understanding anything. Being scared and alone. It’s not a fun place for a kid to be.”
“Are you still?” he asked, with a great deal amount of hesitancy, not completely sure if he should dig that deep. “Scared and alone, I mean.”
Liz said with a quiet voice, “I’m not so much scared anymore. And … besides Aron, I’ve always been alone. We had to be.”
When he saw the sadness gloom over her features and her eyes cloud with emotion, Max said quickly, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No, its okay. I guess I got use to it after a while. Moving every few months. Not having any friends or family. Never having any roots or links to anyone or anything. It’s lonely but … when it’s the only thing you know it’s not so bad.”
She turned to look at him, finding him much closer than she had previously thought. “Its when you find out that there’s so much more out there, that things get … difficult.”
“Like now,” he said in a hushed voice. “You see family and relationships between people and … you wish you could have had that. Can have that.”
She nodded, because her throat was too tight to answer. Her skin was burning under his gaze again, only this time, she was looking at him too. He wasn’t hiding his perusal. Max was staring right at her … and she couldn’t look away.
“You’re not alone anymore Liz.” She sucked in a breath when her hand was enveloped in his. “You can have family now. You’re not alone.”
His breath hit her cheeks in a light puff of warm air. When had their faces drawn so close together? Not that she wanted him to move away. She didn’t want him moving at all.
Their noses touched, and when her slight, breathy sigh escaped her lips, he finally lost the battle that he had been waging, and kissed her. A kiss that was more acquainting than anything. Their skin touched in a whisper of an embrace, and then separated just as quickly.
His heart pounded in his chest, his pulse thundering in his ears. Max forced his eyes open to look at her, and found her eyes still closed, still clinging to the new monumental moment between them.
Who was he to deny her? He brought his lips to hers again, this time with more contact, more passion, more … everything.
And just when he reached to pull her closer to him, she broke free and ran, leaving him panting in confusion.
“Liz?” he said breathlessly. “Liz!”
But she had already disappeared over the dune.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
And so the journey began: a lost and disillusioned Prince embracing his Destiny.
A hardened warrior opening his heart for the first time.
A Princess blossoming outside of her duty-imposed cocoon.
And a once isolated woman trying to balance her heart with responsibility.
Antar had fallen by the hands of Khivar, just as Fate had predicted. The lush green forests and clear blue rivers were no more. Many thousands had suffered and died in the invasion. Many more questioned why such a thing would happen to the good and prosperous planet of Antar.
They knew not of the oracle that resided on the small dune planet.
They knew not of the prophet who had spent years raising and training her into the strongest weapon known to man.
They knew not of the survival of their Prince and Princess.
They knew not of the small army assembling to avenge the King and Queen’s death.
God is a comedian playing to an audience too afraid to laugh.
~Voltaire
~Voltaire