Roswell Fanatics

Arg. Terribly sorry about the wait. Where did June go? Or May, for that matter? I'm so sorry. I'm gonna try really really hard to be better about updating. I'm sorry, again.

Please drop a note and tell me what you think. Point out plotholes if you find 'em, ask questions, tell me what you think. Please.


Chapter Twenty

<center>“This step is once again our first
We set our feet upon a virgin land
We hold the promise of the Earth in our hands . . .”
-In the Beginning, Children of Eden</center>

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“Welcome back.” Crystal smiled down at the groggy boy as Jonathan helped him to his feet. It would be awhile before he could walk on his own again, but that was the price. She and Ana would sleep for the next day or so, but that too was the price.

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The blonde and pink head peaked out from behind the bushes. Ava was not above hiding in plants to get her way. She watched through the window into the living room, watched Zan interact with strangers, who didn’t seem so strange to some distant part of her. For the first time in awhile, she saw her other self; the Tess, the one who mattered. The one who remembered.

But she wasn’t expecting to see the shimmer of a mindwarp engulf the room and the figure of her duplicate sliding out the door while everyone was blinded and preoccupied.

It was the chance she’d been waiting for.

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Ianna ignored the tugging on her skirts. Without looking at her daughter, “Not now, Avana-ri. A princess has patience.”

“But Maman--”

“Avana-ri!”

The child backed off at the scolding tone. Her arms were crossed in her pout, but she dared not speak again. She’d be punished and her grandmother wouldn’t be happy to hear her favorite grandchild had been getting into trouble.

She didn’t understand why her things were being taken away. She hadn’t done anything wrong! She didn’t understand the loud noises outside. Why was she suddenly unacknowledged, even by the servants and guards? She’d been told stories of the evil Zukens, and how they kidnapped royal children who wandered too far from their safe palaces. So why were they leaving Celes? It was safe. It was home.

“Come, Avana-ri, it’s time to leave.” Ianna reached for her daughter’s hand, dragging her out of their old chambers as another thundering crash struck outside the palace walls. The woman flinched at every sound. Who knew if it would be the last she heard? Everything was uncertain now.

Ianna was a middle daughter of the High Queen. Not the oldest, not the youngest. The oldest had long since left the Royal City, and the youngest princess, Ephiny, had lost her life and her daughter at the start of the war. In the scheme of things, Ianna was insignificant. A minor princess of the House of Juria, with a minor prince for a husband and a daughter who would likely never be High Queen. She had five cousins ahead of her, who would have to die for her to inherit.

Ianna wished no such fate for her daughter. The High Throne was nothing but a curse.

Avana-ri kept her eyes on her mother’s back as they moved through the hallways, searching for any sign. Why were they leaving? Her arm hurt! She didn’t want to go! Where was Grandmaman? Would her special blanket be wherever they were going? She needed it to sleep! Why wouldn’t her mother tell her anything? Say anything?

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It wasn’t worth fighting. The crowd was too thick and too tall, and she was too small. No one seemed to notice the little princess dressed in her finest, trying valiantly to catch a glimpse of her illustrious cousin. Was she really going to be High Queen? Avana-ri wondered. What must that be like? To have a grand ballroom filled--to have an entire palace filled!--with people waiting to see you, to listen to you? To be so young, and already so famous?

Avana couldn’t imagine. It must be wonderful. No one would be pushing the great Andraya, the Kazra’ia out of the way, no, it would be Andraya who was doing the pushing. But Avana was too shy for that, and so she waited behind the elaborate, filled-out skirts and endless streams of people, and people, and people. Surely as a cousin of the queen, she’d get to meet her eventually. Maybe one day, when she was older, Avana could be an adviser, a lady-in-waiting to the queen even!

“Little one, surely you can’t see over these men?” An older woman, her face a pale blue of the outer planets, paused in her avid staring to kneel beside the princess.

Avana shook her head. In a small voice, “I can’t.”

The lady smiled. “Come, we’ll see what we can do--oh!” She looked up again at the sound of the grand doors being heaved open. Footsteps echoed in the great hall, whispers and murmurs among the crowd raising to drown them out. “Oh, it’s the Queen!”

Wide-eyed, Avana waited for the lady to remember her, to turn and help her through the crowd.

She didn’t..

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Tess shook the memories from her head. That was a long time ago, and she was grown up now. She no longer falsely idolized the mighty Queen Andraya. She would not be as weak as Avana-ri had been. Genetics didn’t matter; it was the soul that counted, and her soul was stronger. Her soul would not be married off to the highest bidder, her soul would not cower fearfully before a whiny, selfish queen.

She glanced behind her. No one had seen her leave thanks to a mindwarp, but it never hurt to be cautious. Damn that girl. Who was she, anyway? Serena, she’d been called. Tess couldn’t remember a Serena. Perhaps she was someone inconsequential, who was in the wrong place at the wrong time and would now pay for ruining Tess’s plans.

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“Everyone, quiet!” Liz shouted, spreading her arms out, head tilted back and eyes squeezed shut. “This is getting us nowhere, and Tess is still gone! So everyone just shut up for a few minutes, ok?”

The commotion in the room that had exploded with the revelation of Tess’s disappearance settled as everyone turned slightly to face Liz.

Max put a hand to her back and asked, softly, “What do you think we should do?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. But it’s pointless to worry about Tess now, she could be anywhere and she’s got that damn mindwarp. What we need to worry about is the fact that our school is being held hostage by our enemies. I mean, who else could it be? They’re looking for a specific group, that’s us. We can’t let innocent people get hurt because they happened to go to school with us or teach us. There has to be something we can do.”

“That was Nicholas. I saw him on the TV.” Isabel whispered, hands still clasped near her chin.

“Josh and I will take care of it. If it’s Nicholas and his skins, you’re right, they’re after you. We’ve been having some unfortunate run-ins with them since we arrived. And because we’re here now, Khivar has been putting pressure on his people here to take care of the Royal Four so his throne, at least, is secure.” Gerin stepped forward, gesturing at Josh to follow. “Serena, while we’re gone, explain the situation to Liz. She needs to be made aware of the recent developments.”

Liz glanced curiously at Serena. Most of her was still in shock at being the focus in the whole alien mess. Before she’d always just been the normal human girl Max had once healed; the girl who got in the way of destiny.

The rest of her was demanding to know these developments. Demanding to be kept informed.

The door closed behind Gerin as he and Josh left. Serena stood and turned to Diane. “Alianne, could I borrow one of your rooms for a moment, Liz and I must speak in private.”

“Now wait a minute--” Max protested.

Serena shook him off. “Forgive me, Your Highness, but I answer to Liz alone. What I have to say concerns her first and foremost.”

“Whatever you have to say to Liz, you say to all of us.” Max insisted, stepping forward with his eyes narrowed. Liz recognized his stance from when he tried stopping her investigation into Alex’s death. Most of her wanted to stand beside him and nod; the rest strongly rebelled against his blanket statement. That was a new part of her, one that she had never before noticed.

It scared her.

Now that her memories were returning of Andraya’s life, now that she knew who she had been in her past life, would she become someone else? Was she already becoming someone else? Someone so different. Someone alien.

How could she ever trust what was her, Liz, and what was Andraya? Eventually, would Liz be swallowed up? Would she cease to exist as Liz? Maybe. It was a definite possibility.

After a moment of hesitation, she nodded. “That’s right, Serena. They need to hear whatever it is too.”

“Not really.” Serena glared over at Max. “It’s up to you, however, and I respect your judgment.”

“I want them to hear it.”

There was a nod, and Serena straightened her stance. “Forgive me for being the one to deliver this news to you. I’m aware of your mother’s passing, and I know better than most what bad timing this is. Horrible timing. We’d hoped it would be years from now before any of this began, but hoping doesn’t sway the Goddesses unless They’re feeling particularly inclined. Apparently They weren’t.”

Serena was stalling, but no one rushed her. Instinct or experience told them they didn’t want to know, but would have to no matter what they wanted.

“It’s time to leave Earth.”

“Leave Earth? Like, what, on a ship? To where?” Maria asked.

“I didn’t say you. You don’t have to be involved in this if you don’t wish to. But Liz is needed on Juron. Liz is needed in this war. If she stays here, Earth will be destroyed. The world will end. Khivar will focus every power he has here, in order to rid his opponents of any opportunity to take back what’s he’s conquered. But Khivar is a puppet. He’ll attack Earth, surely, to kill the lot of you, the Royal Four. That will merely be a secondary goal. Khivar answers to Keiran. Antar was his reward, and he’ll defend it, but his mission is to serve Keiran. Andraya and her children are threats to Keiran’s control of the Zuken Empire. If you stay here, you’re not only endangering yourselves, but every creature on this planet.”

The blood in Liz drained from her face. “The world will end?”

“Yes.” Serena tilted her head downward. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. I wish I could make this easier for you. I wish I could change things.”

Maria followed Liz’s train of thought. “Liz. Oh god, Liz, he was wrong. All this was for nothing. They had no idea. Future Max was wrong.”

Serena’s brow furrowed. “Future Max?”

Max shook his head. “Nevermind that. The world didn’t end because Liz and I were together after all.”

“Why would it?” Serena asked, laughing.

“Because Tess left town and the Foursquare was incomplete. We weren’t strong enough to beat them.” Max explained.

Serena’s laughter continued. “Oh please. The Foursquare was Daere’s idea of keeping the four of you in power on Antar. It was propaganda. Daere, your mother, thought if the four of you seemed invincible to the people, their expectations for you would keep you together. The Foursquare was nothing more than a ploy. Any power the four of you have can be amplified by working together of course, but it can be anyone, not just specifically the Royal Four, and not necessarily four people. Use three, works just as well. Obviously not as strong, but use five and a foursquare is beat any day.”

“So why wouldn’t they have known about Liz being Andraya in that future?” Maria asked.

Serena shrugged. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Liz looked over at her, “I’ll tell you later,” then turned to Maria, “Because Alex was alive. Because something about his death triggered my ‘awakening’ and I began to have dreams.”

Liz gazed at the ground. “I’d rather have Alex.”

After a moment of silence, Michael broke it. “So we’re leaving Earth? How? Got a spaceship handy?”

“We?” Serena asked.

“You think we’d let Liz go alone? Besides, we’re involved in this too. We’re all going.” Michael looked around at the assembled group. “Right?”

Maria took Michael’s hand and smiled up at him.

Isabel stepped forward. “Right.”

“Was there ever any doubt?” Max asked as he turned to face Liz. He picked up her hand and cradled it in his own, much larger hands. “If you leave, so do I.”

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Celes Palace, Vliea, Juron

She stood silently, one leg propped on the wall behind her. Spread before her eyes, stretching as far as the horizon f rom where she rested on the balcony, was the rubble and dust of her memory. Vliea had been her childhood home; the elegance and glowing crystalline architecture so unique to this planet continued to cast a mythical glint to the world of the past. It was nearly impossible to see the old city in the crumbled buildings. Had it ever really existed at all?

The proof was in the decayed splendor of the palace, damaged by the infamous siege but not destroyed. She’d made it her hideout for a time; the rundown ruins had been abandoned by the royal family more than a decade ago.

She never thought she’d return here.

“It’s ironic, don’t you think, that you of all people would chose to come here.”

The mercenary again.

She remained with her back to him. “Perhaps. But don’t you think if I were that Andraya, I would’ve come forward by now?” There was a pause as she closed her eyes and breathed deeply, “I could be High Queen.”

“You could.” He sat down by her feet. “Which is why I can’t help but ask why you haven’t.” Before she could speak, he added, “I know who you are, princess.”

She glanced down at him briefly, crossing her arms as she returned her gaze to the city. “I am not the girl who was taken from this palace years ago. I am not the princess.”

“No,” he agreed, grinning. “You’re not. You’re grown now, and you’re supposed to be queen.”

“Queen of what?” she snapped, “A starved, dying alliance? Queen of the alliance I’ve fought for six years?”

“You don’t rule an alliance, you rule a people! A people who need leadership, who need protection from the Zukens, civil war, chaos.”

“Chaos?! Do you know who I am?”

He nodded. “I’ve heard the rumors. They call you the Daughter of Chaos, the Kazra’ia. Which is why I think you specifically are best suited to be queen. You know Chaos, you know war, you know the enemy, both the Alliance and the Empire. I’ve watched you with your crew; they’re very loyal. They trust you. If you’re half as good a queen as you are a commander, you’ll be the saviour of these people.”

Her shoulders began to quiver, the laughter bubbling up from deep in her belly. She shook her head between laughs. “I’m sorry, but do you honestly think I’d be allowed to be queen, even if I wanted it?”

“You don’t have to be allowed anything. Come forward as the lost princess, and the throne is yours. You’re the oldest grandchild of the old queen, it’s your birthright. The Council will undoubtedly try to stop you, but the Council is corrupt. You know that, I know that, everyone knows that whether they chose the acknowledge it or not,” He glanced away for a moment, then continued, “The Council is already your enemy. Take the throne and have the power to fight them back.”

The green of her eyes unnerved him as she stared. In a voice lined with diamonds, “I can already fight back. I have been for years.”

“With Keiran. With the Empire.” Shifting to his knees, still not eye-level but with a stronger base, “Unless I’m mistaken, you left. You’re on your own, now.”

She didn’t respond, instead looking back out over the ruins. Once the capital of the Alliance, the veritable center of the universe, now all that could be seen were piles of jura and imported stone. And here she was among it, having lived with the Alliance and the Empire, unsatisfied with both.

If she wished, she could leave charted space, lose herself in the multitude of unexplored, untainted worlds. There she could live, away from the war and the responsibility and the past. She could be happy.

The idea frightened and thrilled her.

“I have no desire to be queen.” she finally answered.

“What do you desire to be?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

He nodded, climbing to his feet. There was dust on his knees from the dirt and rubble that permeated the city, covering every available surface. He brushed it off. Looking down at her now, his eyes - amber and gold and warm - pinned her in place.

“Then why not be queen?”

He left her standing on the balcony where he’d found her, leg still propped up on the wall.

The sky had brightened as the sunset approached. Juron’s sun was a deep, brilliant blue that lit the evening horizon with blues, purples and a pale turquoise. Evenings were always aglow with color; the planet’s unique crystalline make-up set the world in rainbows as the sun fell from the sky. No wonder her memories spoke of magic.

When she was five, she’d first seen her grandmother dressed in full regalia, reigning with grace and beauty over a crowded throne room. In that moment, her one dream had been to one day stand in that same place. And at five, that dream had still seemed possible. Sometimes she wondered if it had been a different child altogether who’d lived that life.

Now, though, it finally seemed possible again. She stared at the broken city but she saw the glory of the old Celes palace, of Vliea before the siege.

There are at least two sides to every war. This war had two sides, the Empire and the Alliance, and a third, ambivalent side. As queen, she could unite that third side. Give it a direction and a leader. Maybe her ideas of freedom and choice and a say in your own future weren’t so out of reach. Maybe it was possible.

The wind blew her hair and she reached back to tie it tighter. Curiosity and restlessness put her walking toward the edge of the balcony, to look down over the rail at what was left of the vast gardens that used to welcome visitors and invite her home. Nothing red, or gold, or violet remained to enhance the natural pallor of the planet’s surface, but the remnants of the flowerbeds and the rows and shapes of where the trees would be were still clearly marked in the ground. How long would it take to grow back? she wondered. The whole city, how long would it take to rebuild? If she were to take the throne, if she were to challenge the Council, Vliea would be the only place she could have her capital.

“Andy?” It was Callisto from her voice.

Andraya turned. Her friend stood, a silhouette in the doorway. Lights from inside the palace cast shadows on her face.

“There’s food.” Callisto gestured back the way she had come.

Andraya nodded. “Thank you.”

The brunette stepped out to stand beside Andraya. They both gazed out across the landscape.

“Still thinkin’ of runnin’?”

“Yeah.”

“I figure you won’t. The way I see it, there’s somethin’ else on your mind that you don’t want to think about cause you know if you do, you’ll do it. And you’re scared.”

“What are you talking about?” Andraya glanced sideways at her, brow quirked.

“Don’t look at me like that, Andy. You want to be queen; you’re thinking of takin’ back the throne.”

Andraya shook her head. “I hadn’t considered it til Kynyr pointed it out.”

Laughing lightly, Callisto pat her on the back. “It was there. You were just avoiding it til the mercenary came.”

“Why is it that I’m the only one who didn’t see this?”

Callisto was still chuckling to herself. “Same reason I forget I got colored hair. Everyone else sees it’s brown whenever they look at me, I only see it when I look in the mirror, and I don’t do that often.”

Andraya smiled. “I suppose that makes sense,” she said with soft amusement. “So it’s that obvious, huh?”

Clasping her hands together, Callisto rested her elbows on the cool, stone railing. She was quiet for a moment, then her eyes sparkled. “When do we leave for Clya?”

“And what, may I ask, makes you think I’ve decided anything?”

Callisto gave her an exceedingly familiar look.

Andraya rolled her eyes. “We go as soon as possible.”

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! Another part! And only a week later!



Please, please tell me what you think. I wrote this extra quickly so that I wouldn't leave you guys hanging for another two months. Hopefully the next part will get up just as quickly. Encouragement certainly helps!

And without further ado. . .

Chapter Twenty-One

“Crys?” When he got no answer, Jonathan sat back on his heels and sighed. Running a hand through his already tousled hair, he glanced over at the boy leaning against the side of the car. His wife and daughter had passed out immediately after waking the boy, and he was left alone with a stranger he’d only heard about through stories. How to explain everything that was going on? “My name is Jonathan. I’m quite certain you’re confused beyond comprehension at the moment, but I’ll try to explain as best I can. I’m afraid my wife could tell you more, but she’ll be out of it for at least a day or two.”

The boy laughed. It sounded more like a choked sigh than anything, but his full-hearted, half-successful smile carried across his intent. “I’ve had worse.” After a moment of consideration, he shook his head weakly, and attempted another laugh. “Actually, I haven’t. This tops the rest, I think.”

“I imagine it does.”

“I’m pretty sure I was dead. Or brain-dead, at least. But dead. She did something to me, to my head, I couldn’t-I wasn’t--”

“I know. She mindwarped you for quite awhile. Crystal was able to heal the damage done to your brain after Ana brought you back.” Jonathan stood and patted the boy on the back. His face turned solemn. “I’m sorry we couldn’t do anything sooner. We didn’t know.”

The boy shrugged. “That’s all right. I guess I’m pretty lucky as it is. Not everyone is given a second chance.”

Jonathan laughed. “Well, everyone is given that chance, just, never in the same life. They never remember the first try.”

They fell silent, and the boy bent down to support his head on the car. He felt like he could sleep forever, but the knowledge that he almost had kept his eyes open. Colors suddenly seemed like such a magical thing. Flowers. The rod-iron gate that lined the cemetery. All beautiful, and all things he’d never given much thought. He could hear music playing through his head, and wanted his guitar. Something he’d almost lost forever.

He wanted his friends. He wanted to let them know he was okay. How much had changed while he was away? There was so much he wished to know, and Jonathan couldn’t answer any of it. Things swam in his head, memories and names and faces.

It was giving him a headache.

“You should sleep. You’re out of strength, and you’re going to need it very shortly.” Jonathan watched as the boy resisted his sinking eyes. “I promise, the world will still be here when you wake. Your friends will be with you.”

Alex Whitman closed his eyes, not for the final time, and let himself fall. The world would be there when he woke. Isabel would be there when he woke.

* * * * *

“The brats return.” Nicholas stood at shoulder height of his opponents, supremely confident and smirking past the baby fat still on his face. “Two of you this time? I’m honored. You must think I’m some sort of threat.”

Josh smiled, amused. “You’re twelve. Maybe. Do you even shave yet?”

“I was traveling the universe when you were in your whore of a mother’s belly, brat. I could kill you with a thought. Your father should have taught you never to underestimate your enemies. He, at least, was a warrior worth admiring. Pity you inherited your mother’s brains.”

“Pity you inherited no one’s ba--”

“Can we just fight, please? The banter is old.” Gerin injected. He glared at his brother. “Stop stalling. We’ve got stuff to do.”

“Someone’s impatient to die.” Nicholas taunted.

“Oh stop. You make a horrible bad guy. What kind of a line was that? Sounds like a bad action flick. ‘Someone’s impatient to die’. I thought we were getting on with this?” Josh rolled his eyes. His knee shook but he stomped his foot harder into the ground so it wouldn’t show. He had a bad feeling. Every instinct was screaming to get moving. Something was about to happen, and he didn’t want to be around for it. Something was never good.

A band of armed skins circled behind Nicholas, trained on the two men.

Josh narrowed his eyes. “This has got to be a joke. You think you can take us out with a handful of skins? You’ve gotten dumb in your youth.”

“The joke’s on you, my boy.” From far away, his ivory hair made him seem old as he stepped out of the shadows of the main building of the school. But his skin was young, healthy and glowing with the power and glory of a god born to man.

The game was over. Gerin straightened and shoved his brother behind him.

“Keiran.”

The man grinned. “That’s me.”

There was pain in his head before he could process the revelation. Josh gripped his blonde hair and screamed. Fire in his skin, in his mind, in his mouth and nose, choking him and burning him as it devoured his soul in its fury. Thoughts centered on the pain alone, the vast, endless sea of torture and misery. The fight was over and it hadn’t begun. His brain was ripping itself apart from the very nerve endings, consuming in the flames. He begged Her to end it. Chaos be kind to your progeny.

Part of him reared at the thought. He’d go out in a blaze of glory, if he was going.

There was still fire in his soul, his own fire, that would burn everything but him. He’d controlled it all his life, was taught to manage its raging dance.

He let it go.

* * * * *

Back to the coolness of the brick building, Gerin cradled his brother’s head on his lap. There was a slow, shallow stream of breaths from his brother’s chest, but the smoke rising from the t-shirt and jeans Josh was wearing set off alarm bells in Gerin’s mind. His brother’s body temperature was too high for a human body to sustain. His skin burned through the cotton and the jean as if it were newspaper thrown in a fireplace. When the blonde had collapsed to the ground after unleashing his energy in a pure attack form, Gerin had grabbed him, despite the blisters that formed on his hands, and dragged him away from the inferno created at the clash of powers.

Keiran was still alive, but it was probable Josh had taken care of the skins, including Nicholas. The odds were evened a little, but Keiran still had the advantage. Andraya at the height of her power had feared to take Keiran one-on-one.

How was he still alive? By all rights, the General should’ve been an old man, preferably dying painfully in his bed, away from the rest of the universe where he’d already caused so much damage. Keiran had to be at least two centuries at that point, and the average life span of his kind was only around one.

Gerin closed his eyes and breathed heavily from the sprint to his hide-out. Thoughts flew through his mind; the horrifying prospect that Keiran had somehow discovered the key to eternal youth dominating.

A hand to his brother’s forehead told the fever wasn’t breaking anytime soon. He cursed. Fighting wasn’t an option with a limp body to hold, and leaving Josh lying on the ground risked getting the younger man captured. There were too many enemies around.

“Need a hand?” A voice from the darkness sent Gerin spinning, arm outstretched and shield flaring up between whoever it was and himself.

Zan leaned back against the wall, looking for all the world like he had better places to be. “Down, boy. I ain’t an enemy.”

“You’re not Zan.”

Zan’s tone was soft. “I may not be king, I may not be Kynyr Zan, but I am involved in this, for whatever reasons the Goddesses have. I have Zan’s memories, and at the moment, I’m the only one who does.”

“Memories aren’t everything. It’s the soul that counts.”

“My soul is willing to help whether it’s Zan’s or not. As for the name, it’s the only one I ever known and it’s staying. The real one is stubborn enough to go by Max for the rest of his life.” Zan moved away from the wall. “Here, give me the kid, I’ll carry him. You just watch our back, and we’ll be outta here.”

Gerin handed his brother over and rose to his feet, wiping his knees free of dirt. “Easier said than done.”

“Yeah, I know. So shut up and let’s get going.”

“Retreating? The great son of the Queen, running for his life? How apropos.” Keiran stepped in their path. In the darkness bordered by flame the blue of his eyes burned.

“Well, I figured it was better than dying.” Gerin snapped. He raised his arm to prepare a shield. Little good it would do, but perhaps allow Zan to escape with Josh.

Keiran shook his head. “Did you think it wasn’t a trap of some sort? You’ve gotten careless in your haste to return Andraya to her throne. Tell me, how fares your sister, Psyche? Not terribly scarred by my games, I hope. I only meant it as a warning.”

Zan threw out his arm with a blast aimed to knock Keiran out of the way. Laughter was his only response, and Zan was flung back against the wall of the building. Josh’s body was tossed to the side, skidding on the concrete and stopping face down several feet away. Gerin leapt back, landing feet spread in front of his brother’s body, shield raised.

Another blast sent Gerin spiraling to the side. His legs were working to get underneath him even before he landed, and within instants he was back on his feet, fire bursting from his hands toward a chuckling Keiran.

“Try again, boy!” Keiran leapt out of the way of every attack, smiling genially. “You’ve got more power than that in your genes. Use it!

Panting, Gerin slowed his movements and waited for an opening. He’d been firing shots rapidly hoping to get lucky even once. Unsuccessful. He’d only managed to wear himself out and make Keiran laugh. There were no tricks he could try, his tricks were his mother’s and Keiran had seen them all. Keeping the attention of the enemy on himself was his only plausible goal. Maybe Zan could get Josh away.

If he was still conscious. Which didn’t seem likely from the prone form laying in the grass.

Keiran stilled his movements as well, resting his arms at his side. “Join me, Gerin. Your father would welcome you with open arms. Otherwise I will kill you, grandson or not.”

* * * * *

“So Tess was mindwarping Kyle all along? About sleeping with Liz! That’s why he was so insistent that it had actually happened, because she was manipulating him!” Maria flung her arms in the space around her. “I mean--”

“Maria!” Michael interrupted, grabbing the steering wheel before they swerved off-road. “Driving. Hands on the wheel.”

She kept her hands on the wheel but sent him a stare. “Don’t you realize what that means? Kyle could die. That’s what happened to Alex. Now she might’ve killed Kyle too! Who knows who else she’s mindwarped? And then she mindwarped all of us to escape? What if our brains just, like, hemorrhage or something?”

“They’re not going to hemorrhage, Maria. Max checked all of us out before we left.” Michael turned back to glaring out the window. “Max and Liz will take care of Kyle. Our job is to pack, so let’s just do that, ok?”

They’d left the Evanses with instructions from Max and Liz to grab supplies for everyone who would be going. Philip and Diane had opted to stay behind on Earth, reluctantly on Diane’s part. But someone had to watch Jeff and help him recover, not only from the loss of his home and wife, but now his daughter too. Diane had run straight to the kitchen to prepare meals for the journey. Apparently alien food was quite a switch from human and she wanted them to have some sort of comfort from home.

Max, Liz, and Isabel had headed off toward the Valenti’s to heal Kyle and inform him of their departure. Then they were going to the hospital, for Liz to say goodbye to her dad. According to Serena, the ship they were taking was to be landing out in the desert near midnight. They had less than a day.

Michael and Maria were on their way to Maria’s house to pack clothes for both her and Liz. If Amy was home, they had a story planned that the group was going camping to escape recent events. Liz needed a getaway, and they were going as support.

Maria’s knuckles were white. “Doesn’t this bother you at all? I mean, what if we never come back? What if we can’t breath on whatever planet we end up on, Antar or whatever? What am I gonna tell my mom? How can I just leave her alone like this? To go off in space somewhere and maybe never return?”

His voice was soft. He kept his gaze away from her and out the window. “Then don’t go.”

“‘Don’t go.’” Maria stated, pulling the car over against the curb outside her house. She twisted in her seat to look at him. “That’s all you have to say. ‘Don’t go.’”

“You’re the only one not involved. You don’t have to go. It’d be safer, and smarter, to stay.”

“I’m not involved?!” Maria’s voice got shrill toward the end and she held herself back. Frustration, fear, and determination brought tears to her eyes. “Liz is my best friend. Alex? He was my best friend and that bitch killed him. He died for an alien cause. I may not be a reincarnated alien queen, or princess, or warrior, but I care about all of you, God knows why, and I’m as involved as anyone else. I’m going, because I’m not leaving Liz to all this alone. I’m not leaving you to all this alone.”

He finally looked at her. “Maria, this isn’t a game. This isn’t just some secret anymore. We’re leaving Earth and not only will we likely never return, we could easily be killed. We’re going into a war. It killed us before.” Something outside caught his attention, and he glanced up. Maria’s mother was standing on the front stoop, sweeping the welcome mat, her hair tied back with a bandana. “You’ll never see her again. She’ll think you’ve run away, been kidnapped. Who knows what she’ll think but she’ll never know the truth, that her daughter was no longer on the same planet. Stay here. You say Liz is important to you? I’m important to you? What about her? Your mother. Stay with her, or you’ll end up like Alex.”

Maria stared at the hands clasped in her lap. “You’re an asshole, Michael.” She opened the car door and stepped out. A resolute step carried her to the house, and she gave a brief greeting to her mother before brushing past.

Michael followed at a slower pace, hands stuffed in his pockets. He reached Amy and she stuck her hand out.

“Hey, give her chocolate and she’ll forgive you anything.” Amy winked and gave him a pat on the back as he passed inside.

“Thanks,” he answered gruffly.

Maria was throwing clothes at a large, green bag when he entered. Each item of clothing hit the growing pile with a violent whoosh and he winced. “Maria.”

“Oh, you’re still here. I’d have thought you’d be gone by now, stolen my car or something. You seemed determined that I wasn’t going.” She kept her back to him.

“I need clothes for Liz.”

The shirt in her hands was tossed in his face. She spun around. “You need clothes for Liz? Is that all I am now? Just someone who has clothes for Liz? You wouldn’t even have come in to say goodbye or anything? That figures. You know, you’re right, I'll just stay here. I’ll certainly be more appreciated.”

“Maria, stop!” Michael reached out and grabbed her flinging arms. When she’d calmed a bit, he leaned down and met her eyes. “Stop it. This isn’t doing us any good. You know me better than that.”

“Do I?” She shook her head and glanced down. “I’m sorry. I’m just--a little overwhelmed right now.”

He let her arms go, gently. “I don’t want you to get hurt, Maria. This is out of my control, and I can’t protect you. Please, stay. If there’s any way at all, you know I’ll come back.”

Her eyes were lined with tears as she looked at him. Again she shook her head. “I can’t. I’m sorry, I can’t stay. I’m a part of this, and I’m going.”

* * * * *

“I’m an idiot.” Kyle sat with his hands on his knees. “I’m an idiot. I can’t believe I fell for that! Why didn’t I realize?!”

“You were mindwarped, Kyle. You’re not an idiot.” Liz was across from him at the kitchen table. Max had burst in the doorway and healed him before any protest could be uttered. Then Liz had stepped forward with an explanation to both Kyle and his father.

Valenti was pacing the length of the room and Max stood, arms crossed, off to the side.

“A lot has been happening in the past few days, then.” Valenti said, rubbing the stubble on his chin. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Liz. If there’s anything I can do. . .”

“Look after my dad, please. I’ll be gone, without Mum and the Crashdown. . .” Liz trailed off. There were dark circles shadowing her eyes, and her hair was getting dirty at the roots. She hadn’t even thought about her mother’s death until Valenti mentioned it. Did that make her a bad daughter? She was sure it did. She hadn’t cried yet.

But there were things to do. Tess had to pay for what she’d done to Alex. To all of them. The world had to be saved. Then she’d think about her mother. Then she’d miss her.

“If you could keep an eye on Amy Deluca as well.” Max added. “She’ll be alone now, and will have no idea what happened to her daughter.”

Valenti nodded. “Of course. I’ll do what I can.”

Kyle shook his head violently. His fingers curled around the ends of his hair. “I can’t believe you’re leaving Earth, Liz. God, I can’t believe you’re an alien! This whole thing really is an abyss. It never ends, and only ever gets bigger.”

Ok, I really wish I could answer some of your continuing questions, but all I can really say is that answers are forthcoming. In fact, the next chapter. . . .


Thank you so much for your feedback:
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Chapter Twenty-Two

Gerin prepared himself for another attack when a vibration shook the earth. Not from a blast but from something very large, and very heavy landing on it. The urge to spin around behind him was curbed by the powerful man in front, willing and able to kill him.

Besides, he knew what it was. Who it was. Only one ship was that silent, and only one man had access to it apart from himself.

“Leon!” He called out, not turning around. The other man would hear him. “Get those two, and get out of here! I’ll take care of Keiran!”

The entry ramp of the ship lowered from its belly. A single figure ran out, his thick boots crushing the grass beneath his feet. Leon easily scooped up Josh, carefully cradling his body and racing back to the ship. He disappeared inside, then reappeared, and repeated his actions, this time picking up Zan with slightly less care.

Keiran growled. “You think with a ship you’ll be able to beat me? How easy do you think it would be to knock that out of the sky? Extraordinarily so. I know how that ship works, I helped build it.”

Gerin motioned Leon back in the ship, and waited until the ramp was completely closed to respond. “You’re not fighting a ship, Keiran. You’re fighting me, and you’ve got to get through first.”

“Noble,” Keiran acknowledged, “But foolish. If I wished, you would all be dead now.” Instead Keiran watched as the ship’s thrusters sent it up into the sky. “I have a message for you mother.”

“What message?”

Gerin was unconscious before he registered the movement of Keiran’s arm.

* * * * *

“So we haven’t had the chance to talk about the fact that we have a son.”

“We don’t. Andraya and Ky did.” Liz was staring out the window at the hospital. They were parked in the lot outside the ward where her father was staying, but Liz hadn’t made a move to go in and Max wasn’t going to force her.

“Ky?”

“Andraya and Ky had four children. Two sons, and two daughters. I remember that much.” She stated matter-of-factly, still not looking at him. “It doesn’t mean anything for us though. We’re not those people.”

“That’s not what you said when it was about me and Tess.” Max said. Something poked at him as off in her statement, but he brushed it aside. He couldn’t figure out what it was, and there were more important things to focus on. “You insisted we follow destiny, that because it had been our past, it was our future. Even before Future Max came along.”

“Ky was married to Ava, not Andraya. Besides, I believed what Daere, what your mother said. She said you’d been made for each other. How was I supposed to know any different? But now I know, you’re free to make your own choice, and I’m free to make mine. And we don’t have to choose each other. This is a different life, and we weren’t created to be together in this life.” She turned to gaze at him. Falling into his eyes was so familiar, and so easy, and she let go, allowing herself to stare. Her stubborn strength failing, a frail connection formed. No flashes, just a soft ebb and flow of emotion.

“I choose you.” His voice lacked any hesitation. “Destiny or not, past lives irrelevant, I love you. I did since long before we knew any of this. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” He raised his hand to cradle her cheek, fingertips rubbing gently against her skin. “We’re going to war, we’re going to a place where I don’t have a clue what to expect or what to do. I just know that we have always been stronger together. I’ve always been happiest with you.”

“I love you too, Max. I’ve loved you since before I knew any of this and so I trust it. I’m just--so confused, and scared.” Her eyes were teary and she let her fears seep through their connection. “I don’t want to become her. I don’t want to become someone else, and I think I might. I haven’t even cried for my mother.”

“You haven’t had time, Liz. We’ve all been so overwhelmed with all of this, and you more than any of us have the right to be lost and confused. You’ve been through so much in such a short time, and you’ve been so strong. But you don’t have to be, you could rely on us a little more and let yourself have time to grieve. Someone very wise once told me to have faith in those around me.”

She laughed a little, sniffling in the process. “I just don’t want to mess this up. I don’t want to lose anyone else. And I’m scared the only way to protect everyone is to become Andraya again. And I don’t want to.”

“You don’t have to. You have all of us to help you. And you’re Liz, you’re strong, and smart, and determined. You’ll succeed not because you’re Andraya’s reincarnation, but because you’re you.” He smiled down at her. “We can do anything as long as we’re together. Just, this time, let’s be honest. No lies, not even to protect one another. Not even to prevent the end of the world. Let’s trust each other to be able to make our own decisions, ok? Promise me.”

She nodded, smiling, “I promise,” and he let go of her to reach for his door handle.

“Let’s go say goodbye to your dad.”

Her hand pulled the handle back and the door opened with a deep click. She slid down from the seat and let her smile fall.

A promise she’d already broken.

* * * * *

“Serena, when are we leaving?” Sam asked, swinging herself around on the Evans’ kitchen stools.

“Tonight. Leon’s coming.” Serena was busy helping Diane wrap food and place it in coolers.

“In Mommy’s ship?”

“Yes.”

“So does this mean we’re going home?” Sam stopped spinning and swung her legs back and forth instead.

“Yes.”

There was a pause as the girl glanced up beneath her long lashes. Her voice was quiet. “Do you think I’ll make it back?”

Serena quit what she was doing to face Sam. Her brow furrowed. “Sam, is that what you’re worried about?”

She nodded. “I’m scared.”

“There’s nothing to be scared of, sweetie. Your parents will take good care of you.” Serena knelt in front of her, a small, comforting smile adorning her lips.

Sam pouted. “I told you not to call me sweetie.”

“I know.” Serena ruffled Sam’s hair as she stood. “I love you, kid. You’ll be fine, I promise.”

* * * * *

Jonathan stood alone in the open desert, their family car parked several feet away. Inside, Sean watched him from the passenger seat. Alex, Crystal and Ana were all passed out in the back seat. They were out of view of any road, only the wind blowing gently across the rocks. To Sean, the silence was maddening.

Twisting in his seat, he glanced back at the sleeping form of Alex Whitman. Logically he knew the little girl sleeping next to her mother had done that, had brought a man back from death, had placed her tiny hand on him after Jonathan dug up the coffin and scrunched her face, and pressed a glowing white fire into the body. Her hands had been covered in freshly bled blood; Sean had seen the tears in Jon’s eyes, watched as Crystal turned her head, eyes closed. Ana had brought Alex back to life but hadn’t healed the wounds he died with, she’d passed out the moment her hands left Alex. Crystal had knelt next to her daughter and taken up where she’d left off, replacing Ana’s tiny, slightly chubby hands with her own, delicate ones. Mindless of the blood coating her palms, she’d closed her eyes and concentrated, and before Sean’s incredulous eyes, Alex had healed. Completely.

Even though he’d seen it, his mind couldn’t comprehend the fact that death had been beaten.

Liz would be ecstatic. Whatever she’d been after in Las Cruces, she’d have Alex back and be able to move on with her life. He wasn’t fool enough to believe he’d be a part of it, but that was okay. Liz was an intergalactic, reincarnated queen who certainly deserved better than a teenage delinquent. And certainly better than the asshole Max Evans had turned out to be. Maybe off in her destiny somewhere, she’d find an alien worthy, because Sean knew there was no human who could be.

The silence was broken by the stark cry of an engine, almost sounding like an old car but from too far up in the air. A buzzing sound, more vibration that anything, filled his ears and his head, and he gazed around, squinting against the sound and the sun. High above their heads, a small, metallic ship hovered, casting a shadow across the desert. It had a slick, smooth surface that reflected back the sky and the sand, showing no color save for what it took from the environment. The main body of the ship was an oval, appearing almost to have been pinched on one end. Underneath the oval, two long, cylindrical tubes were attached, one on each side. Sean assumed they were engines.

Jonathan waved and shouted a greeting muted by the whirling of noise.

Just as suddenly as it’d come, all sounds stopped, and the ship lowered itself to the ground without so much as a whisper of sand spraying the air.

Jonathan shouted as a slender ramp began to descend from the bottom of the ship. “I thought she was supposed to be completely silent!”

“She would be if it weren’t for all the nitrogen in this fucking atmosphere! Keeps fucking with the engines and you get that nice vibration known more commonly as noise!” A sardonic voice hollered back from the inside. Scrapping sounds echoed out from the ship, and within moments, a tall, ragged figure appeared at the top.

“Jonathan.” The man nodded at Jon as he ambled down the ramp. His eyes were scanning the horizon, picking up the parked car, Sean’s gaping figure and the empty desert all around. “Nice planet. Where are the others? We need to get going.”

“They’ll be here. I told Serena where we were and when to meet us. You got here early. I wasn’t expecting you til nightfall.”

The man raised a hand to his forehead, blocking out the glare of the sun. “I’m not worried about humans spotting us, this ship’ll avoid detection from anything the Empire can throw; this is nothing. The longer this takes, the more likely it is we’ll be intercepted by Keiran.”

Jonathan stood straighter. “He’s here? That’s not possible.”

“Everything’s possible with my sister involved. And yeah, the old man’s here. Not so old anymore though.” The man tossed his head toward Sean, his shoulder length hair flipping in his face. “Who’s the kid?”

“Sean Deluca. He’s a friend of Andraya’s. We needed his help, and we had no choice but to save him, he got caught up in an explosion with Andy.” Jonathan gestured to the man from the ship. “Sean, this is Leon, Andraya’s younger brother.”

The two exchanged brief nods.

Leon clapped his hands together when the silence stretched on too long. “Well, Josh and the duplicate Zan are onboard already. We had to leave Gerin behind fighting Keiran. It was the only way for some of us to make it out alive. Josh seems to have used an incredible amount of energy, according to Zan there was a great fireball explosion just before he reached the school. That would’ve been Josh’s powers. Must’ve used too much and exhausted himself. That kid never did have as much control as the others.”

Running a hand through his hair, Jonathan cursed. “So Gerin’s out? No way Keiran killed him, but he certainly couldn’t have won that battle.”

“Keiran could very well have killed him. There’s no unexpressed emotion between the two. I pray Keiran had the sense not to, though. I’ve seen Andy’s wrath, it ain’t pretty. ‘Specially if she finds out her father killed her son.” Leon looked down and scrapped his boot on the dirt. “Likely he’ll use Gerin as leverage sometime, a pawn. Ransom, something. Or in exchange for Andraya.”

“We have to get him back.”

Leon nodded matter-of-factly. “I figure if he’s alive, he’ll still be alive when we get back to Juron. Once we’re regrouped and a little more prepared, we can send a team in to retrieve him.”

“You don’t seem all that worried about the fact that your nephew might be dead.” Sean pointed out, none too kindly.

Leon looked him up and down, then shrugged. “I don’t have much say in the matter. What’s done is done, and in my life, I’ve learned to accept that sometimes people die. I hope he isn’t dead, but being sad and hysterical--if that’s what you would prefer--won’t get any of us anywhere.”

* * * * *

Isabel watched from the hallway as her mother puttered about in the kitchen, mumbling to herself and packing food away in coolers. It was a possibility that most of the food wouldn’t be edible, knowing her mother’s cooking, but Isabel knew she’d eat it anyway, and relish in it. How could she leave this behind? Finally, for the first time in her life, her mother and father knew the truth about her, knew who she really was, and she was leaving.

Alex was here. Buried, and dead, but still he was here. His spirit was here. If she left, would the Alex in her dreams go away? If she died on some distant planet, would she ever see him again, in a Heaven or an afterlife?

Why was it that she only appreciated things when they were gone? First Alex, and now her parents, her home, her normal life on Earth. All of it gone, and she wanted it back.

“Izzie, is that you?” Diane stuck her head out the door of the kitchen. “What are you doing? Have you packed?”

The sound of her mother’s voice brought tears to her eyes. “Yeah, Mom. I’ve packed.” Her voice cracked, but she smiled through it. “Do you need any help in there?”

Diane smiled. “Sure. You can help me wrap some of these cookies up.”

* * * * *

The ball slammed against the garage door before bouncing back into his hands. Kyle threw the ball again, putting his weight into the throw. He didn’t flinch when the ball ricocheted back toward his shoulder.

He was an idiot. How could he have let her manipulate him like that?

His heart clenched, and he hurled the ball at the wall. And why did it bother him so much that she had used him? He didn’t care about her, she was an alien. She was obsessed with Max Evans, and Kyle was sick of the whole thing.

Still his stomach was twisted in knots, and if he wasn’t careful, something inside would tug until tears reached his eyes. He swallowed hard, forcing back the emotions. Gripping the ball in his hands once more, he dribbled it a few times, each time striking the ground with a harsh snap.

Good riddance.

He tossed the ball at the garage, wincing as it bounced away, falling into the bushes lining the side of the house.

There was a muffled squeal.

Narrowing his eyes, Kyle approached the bush. He knew what he’d find. His nails dug ridges in his palm as he squeezed his hands into fists. Jaw tight and straining against the urge to yell, he peeled back the branches and leaves, a snarl curling his lips as he bit out the question, “What the hell are you doing here?”

Sorry to take so long with this. My computer crashed and I had to go digging around in boxes at school to find the backup harddrive I keep everything on. But here it is, at long last. This chapter sort of sets the stage for the rest of the story, which, I haven't even gotten to yet. But now they leave the planet . . .

Please let me know what you think, and thanks for those of you who have stuck with this. I will not be abandoning this fic. I don't know when it'll be updated again, but it will be.

Anyway, on with the show . . .

Chapter Twenty-Three



“Dad?” Liz stepped up beside her father’s hospital bed.

He tilted his head, unable to turn it completely. “Lizzy?” His eyes widened and he struggled to sit up, failing. Blinking back frustrated tears, he lifted his fingers, reaching toward her hand. “Oh thank god you’re okay. The doctors said you weren’t in the building, but I just couldn’t stop worrying. How--” his voice was raspy, and he cleared his throat, “how are you?”

Taking his offered fingers in her hands, she smiled down at him, eyes cloudy. He didn't remember her coming in the night before; he'd been on pain-killers. Did that mean he'd forgotten what happened to-- “Fine. Did they tell you about--”

”About your mother? Yes.” He coughed. “God, Liz. I’m so sorry.”

She spoke in a whisper. “Why are you sorry? You didn’t do anything.”

“I wish I could be a better father right now. I wish I could be of more use.”

Her head was shaking before he finished speaking. “That’s not your fault. I’m just glad you’re not hurt worse than you are.” Eying their intwined hands, she bit her lip and wondered how to tell him. Direct approach was always best. Easiest. They didn’t have much time, though she wanted it so badly. He was her father.

“Dad, Mrs. Evans told me about Andraya.”

“Ah.” Jeff closed his eyes, resting back in his pillows. “I’m so sorry, Liz. I wanted to tell you but we just couldn’t know the ramifications of doing so until you remembered. I wish . . . I wish you were just my baby girl, but you’re so much more than that, and I can’t be selfish.”

“I started remembering when Alex died. And then all these people started showing up here in Roswell, saying they knew me, telling me these things that didn’t seem possible or make any sense.” Liz looked back at Max. “Then Mrs. Evans explained. I’m still so confused, but I think I’m starting to get it.”

Jeff nodded stiffly. “That’s good. It will be difficult, I know. I was raised knowing all this, being told these stories of a glorious queen, and so it’s normal for me, but I can’t imagine what you must be feeling.” He coughed again, turning his head away. “I wish I could help you. I wish there was something I could do to make this easier.”

Spite it out, Liz, she told herself. Don’t drag this on, you have a time limit. The longer this takes, the harder it will be. He’s here, he’s safe, he’ll still be here when you get back someday.

“Dad, I’m leaving Earth. Tonight.”

His head jerked toward her. He winced as the movement jarred his injuries. “Tonight? No! You’re too young! No one can expect a seventeen-year-old to take responsibility for all this!”

“I don’t have a choice!” Liz nearly shouted. “Please don’t make this anymore difficult than it already is. Don’t you think I know I’m too young? I don’t want to do this, I want to go home, and for everything to be normal again! But it won’t happen. There are people who need my help, and I won’t turn my back just because I’m afraid.”

Her voice quieted. “Besides, it’s what I was born for, right?”

Jeff shook his head lightly. “No. You were born because Nancy and I were in love and wanted a beautiful child. We got one. And we love you, not because you’re her reincarnation, but because you’re our daughter. Nothing changes that. You’re our flesh and blood.”

“I have to do this.”

Closing his eyes, Jeff reclined back into his pillows. “Just--come back to me.” He glanced at her sideways, tears in the corner of his eyes, but not falling.

“I will.” Leaning across the hospital bed, Liz kissed him on both cheeks, then wrapped as much of him as she could in her arms. “I love you, Dad. I’ll see you when I get back.”

“I love you too, Lizzy. I love you so much.”

Silently, Liz stepped back. Without breaking eye contact, she backed out of the room and into the hall, Max anticipating her steps and waiting outside.

The door closed behind them.

* * * * *

Ava stood, from the bushes, eyes fixed warily on Kyle’s clenched fists. “I ain’t her.”

“Then who the hell are you? I’m not falling for anymore of your damn tricks, Tess. I know what you did and you sure as hell aren’t getting away with it.” Kyle said.

She shook her head, black and pink locks flying. “No. I’m not her. I’m the dupe, I’m Ava. The one from New York. I’m just tryin’ ta live my life. Get out of this alien bullshit. You tellin’ me I can’t get away with that?”

“So you’re Tess’ twin? Like that’s any better? You’re her with bad taste in clothes.” Kyle strode forward to tower over her, using her small stature to his advantage. “If you want out of the bullshit, why’d you come back to Roswell? Why are you hiding in my bushes?!”

“I got bad taste in clothes?” Ava looked over his sweaty gym attire with a sneer. “And jus’ cause we got the same genes don’t mean we got the same morals. I didn’t kill ya friend. I’m only here ta talk ta Liz. I in ya bushes to find out what the hell my dupe is up to and to make sure she don’t kill anymore ‘a you.”

“Your dupe? Tess? She was here?” Kyle asked, torn between the desire to tear through his house in search of her and getting whatever information he could out of the petite girl in front of him.

Ava relaxed slightly, and nodded. “Yup. Walked right in under a mindwarp, and into her room. I suppose your room?”

“And you let her?”

“What was I supposed ta do? Stop her? How? She got all the memories; she got powers I can’t touch.”

Kyle shook his head. “If you’re really looking out for us, you’d have told me. She could’ve done something to my dad!”

“She didn’ go near ya dad. She got a bag of stuff from your room and left. That’s it. I was just about to leave when you found me.” she said, looking away.

He chewed his lower lip, relaxing his stance slightly. “So Tess doesn’t know.”

“Doesn’t know what?”

“Not any of your business, pinky.”

“I’m sure it’s more my business than yours, cornball.” Ava said, finally stepping up to stand chest to chest with him. The blue of her eyes froze him in place.

His voice lowered. “Obviously not if no one told you.”

“They didn’t tell me ‘cause they don’t know I’m here. I’ve been tryin’ to find Liz, but then Tess mindwarped them to escape and I figured I’d better follow and see what’s up.”

“Nice of you to look out for us. You can go now.” Kyle glared down at her. All he could see was Tess staring back up at him.

“I ain’t leavin’ til you tell me what’s goin’ on.” she paused, narrowing her eyes. “I’m tired of not being told things.”

“You’re tired of it? Take a number and get in line.” Kyle said as he stepped to the side of her. Without stopping, he scooped an arm down to pick up his discarded basketball and headed toward the front door.

* * * * *

“So . . . I guess this is it?” Isabel said, standing at the edge of the desert with Max, Liz, Michael, Maria, and her parents. She was stalling, hoping some miracle would change their decision. That they’d get to stay a while longer.

No such luck. Diane stepped forward to wrap her up in a hug, and Philip went to Max. Then the parents switched children. Max stepped back from his mother’s embrace and nodded to her, then moved to stand beside a subdued Liz.

Diane smiled. “Good luck, all of you.” Reaching out to wrap Liz up in a hug, she patted the younger woman on the back. “You’ll be fine. Just breathe, and remember who you are now. And don’t turn away the people who care about you.” She cupped Liz’s cheek, making the girl look her in the eyes. “Don’t ignore the lessons Andraya learned. But don’t forget that this is who you are now, and this is what matters. You are Liz Parker.”

“I won’t forget.”

The two parents smiled and turned back to their car, hopping in despite Isabel’s small whimper of protest. They would never leave if they didn’t just go; hanging around to be a reminder would only make it harder on the teens.

As Philip started the car, Diane let the tears well in her eyes, but didn’t look back. They didn’t need to see her tears.

Max stared off after the car, one arm wrapped around his sister. This was it. If they failed, if something happened to them off in space, this would be the last time he’d ever see his parents.

Michael broke the silence, “Let’s get this over with.”

“Somehow I don’t think this is going to be over for a long time.” Maria whispered from his side. She glanced up at his face, then back down at the sand. “Let’s get this thing started.”

With a nod, Liz looked out toward the shape in the distance. Andraya’s ship. Serena said Andraya’s brother had taken it after Gerin left it on their planet, and he was there to pick them up. Her daughter, the mysterious Crystal she only vaguely remembered--more of a sense of a person than an actual sight, sound or smell, just a feeling--was up ahead. A lot of things laid up ahead.

Her feet started moving and the rest of the group followed, silently, each with their own expression of fear, resolve, and longing. They were leaving the earth. For Max, Michael and Isabel, the idea had always been a possibility in the distant parts of their minds, but never seemed real. Maria had never in her life imagined she’d willingly be walking toward a spaceship headed for the unknown.

It’s what we always knew was coming. We don’t belong on this planet, and we never did. We knew this would happen one day.

Alex. Mom, Dad. We’ll come back. We have to.

I belong here with them. I may only be human, but I belong here with my friends. If I never come back--I’m sorry, Mom.

This is it. We’re really leaving.

I’m Liz Parker. And. . . I’m going to do my best.


___________________

See, here it is! Told you I'd have it out today. I'm sorry it's taken me so long, and I really hope the next part doesn't take quite that long. But I can't promise anything or guarantee. All I can say is that I will not be abandoning this story. Or Brave Enough, for those who were curious. These two are my babies and I'm hell bent on finishing them.

I wanted to leave individual feedback, but that would've taken me even longer to post this because I'm horrible at knowing what to say to people and I really wanted to get this out as soon as possible--it's been way too long since I've updated. But your comments and bumps and feedback are amazingly appreciated and thank you guys so much for not just giving up on this story.

*waves to lurkers* Hi! I don't bite.

Chapter Twenty-Four

“Welcome aboard Valerian. I’ll be your pilot and captain for the duration of this journey. My name’s Leon.” The man was strangely energetic as he waved an arm out to the side, presenting the inside of the ship to the assembled teenagers. They stood in what was obviously a bridge of some sort--Maria could just see Captain Kirk in his chair in the center of the room.

Captain Kirk, Leon was not. He was a tall, lanky figure that couldn’t be described as overly attractive. His eyes were either too small or his nose too prominent for good looks, but at the same time, something about him made a striking image. Chin defiantly high, he stood before them with lazy arrogance.

“Leon.” Liz furrowed her brow. Leon. There was a mental note somewhere about that name, she just couldn’t remember what it was supposed to say.

Leon tilted his head down to stare at her. “Yup?”

“I know that name.”

A hand flew to his chest and he rocked back on his heels, mock surprise on his face. “I’m touched! Truly. She remembers me.”

“No, I don’t!” Liz snapped. She eyed him up and down, the dramatic pose to the small, corner smirk on his lips. “I just said I’d heard the name.”

“Ah. I see.” He subdued himself somewhat and returned the inspective glance he was being given by the group. “In that case, I’m your brother, Andraya. I was three years old when you were kidnapped from Vliea, but we met up later in life. I am also, coincidentally, fourth in line for the throne.”

Michael straightened his stance. “What?”

“Oh, well, that’s a little misleading, isn’t it? Basically, I’ll be High King if Andraya dies.” Leon rolled his eyes a bit then amended his thought, “Again.”

“What about her children? What about Gerin?” Maria asked.

“Only the grandchildren of the current monarch can inherit the throne.” Leon said. Anticipating Maria’s question as she opened her mouth, he continued, “It’s to keep the children from trying to kill their parents. Quite a problem throughout human history, if I’m not mistaken. By the time the grandchildren are old enough and educated enough, the ruler is usually ready to turn over the crown and life the rest of their lives peacefully. In this case, there is only one grandchild, and she is too young to inherit the throne properly, and I would be appointed Regent.”

Michael interrupted. “So you’ve got pretty good incentive for wanting to see Liz dead. Why the hell should we trust you to get us anywhere safely?”

“Well, you have two options. Trust me, and shut up, or get off the boat and stay on Earth. ‘Cause I am your only means of transport that doesn’t require you to be captured by people who would be more likely to take you to Zuken.” Leon said as he spread his arms. “Take it or leave it, but make up your mind, because I have a war to fight and stalling on this planet while you dither won’t save anyone.”

Michael took a step forward, opening his mouth--

“You died.” Liz looked up from the floor where she’d fixed her eyes during the argument. She remembered. “Gerin told me you died. That’s what helped trigger my memories of Andraya, the similarities between losing you and losing Alex.”

Leon leaned back on his heels, gazing at her through narrowed eyes. He nodded, “Yeah. I did die. The thing about death, though, is that no matter how painful it is, or how long it lasts, it’s never final. Everyone in this room has been reborn from death; what makes you think I’m any different?”

Maria suddenly glanced around, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. “Where are the others? Serena, Sam, Josh, Gerin and Zan?”

“In another room, probably sleeping. There are eleven separate bedrooms on this ship; so Sam has to bunk with either Andy or Serena, and you guys can fight out who gets which room. I have a ship to fly.” He turned his back to them before anyone else could speak.

“Wait!” Max spoke up. “There are only eleven of us, aren’t there? Gerin, Josh, Serena, Sam, you, me, Liz, Michael, Maria, Isabel, and Zan. How does that work out, exactly?” His eyes were dark.

Without facing them, Leon answered, “Gerin was captured by Keiran at the school. But there is also Crystal, her husband and daughter. The three share a room, but that still leaves us one short.”

“Gerin was captured?!” Liz asked, eyes wide. He was just now mentioning this? Why hadn’t they been told right away? He was her son.

No, she corrected herself. He was Andraya’s son; Liz just remembered the sight of his young face, running down the hall toward her with a grin, ready to leap in her arms.

“Yes. There’s nothing we can do at present; when we get to Juron, we’ll figure something out. Gerin is either already dead or will still be alive by the time we’re ready. Keiran won’t kill him randomly, if he wants him alive.”

There was a stabbing in her heart that Liz ignored at the possibility of Gerin’s death. She didn’t even really know him. Except--part of her did. And that part was screaming.

Max reached over to take her hand, giving it a squeeze.

Isabel finally stepped forward from where she’d been lurking in the back of the group. “How can you be so callous? Isn’t Gerin your nephew? Don’t you care if he dies? Do you care at all if someone dies?”

Leon twisted his head just enough to glance them from the corner of his eye. “No, I don’t.”

“I am getting really sick of aliens and their attitudes.” Maria said, tossing Michael a glare before stalking off down the only hallway visible.

“Maybe you should all go find your rooms. I have to get this thing in the air, and having all these people on my bridge will only get in the way.” Leon instructed, shrugging off Maria’s comment and heading over toward what looked to the others like a control panel.

Isabel was the first to leave, then Michael as he tossed his hands up in the air in frustration. Waiting for Liz to make a movement, Max watched her as she observed Leon’s hands flashing across the panel. He wondered if she recognized his actions; how much did she remember?

After a moment, Liz headed out the doorway with Max trailing from their entwined hands. Just as she stepped deeper into the hallway, she tilted her head back.

“It’s my ship, Leon,” she said, disappearing into the depths of the hall.

* * * * *

Maria wrestled with the urge to stomp her feet. Michael had told her not to go, and though she appreciated the protectiveness, there was something offensive in his assuming she could let them all go off without her, that she could live her life always wondering if they’d come home. Now this alien who is supposed to get them to another planet safely is rude and aloof. She prayed all aliens weren’t as difficult.

The hallway stretched ahead, and turned right at a dead end. Presumably all the bedrooms were this way, and she wanted nothing more than to sit quietly for a moment and let everything sink in. Let the fact that she just left her mother all alone on Earth while she went across the galaxy on a quest for--for--

Well, she wasn’t quite sure what for. Just that she couldn’t leave the others now, not after everything they’d been through. And she couldn’t leave Liz to this. Not alone, and not with only the aliens as her company.

Liz was an alien now.

But she wasn’t. Liz was human, she just remembered being alien.

Maria reached a hand to her forehead, rubbing above the bridge of her nose in circular motions. She could feel the headache coming on. Reaching for the nearest doorway, she waved a hand over the small, blue square on the wall beside it without thinking. The door slipped open without the slightest whisper.

Inside the room was dark. Maria put a cautious foot forward, expecting at any moment to be jumped by an alien hiding away. The fear was completely absurd, she acknowledged, but there none the less. But there were no aliens lurking in the shadows. Instead, across from the door, a hunched figure sat beside a bed, obsessively focused on the sleeping forms nestled in the sheets.

Briefly, she marveled at the fact that aliens used beds and sheets too.

Before she could back out undetected, the figure next to the bed looked up. It was a man. He rose to his feet, taking small steps in her direction. “Hello?”

Maria clasped her hands in front of her chest, “I am so sorry, I didn’t know anyone was in here. I was just--just trying to find a room to sleep in.”

He moved to stand in the block of light provided by the open door. Deep blue, nearly violet eyes peered out at her from beneath a fringe of brown hair, and his lips were soft as they smiled.

Good lord, Maria thought. What was it about aliens that made them all so gorgeous?!

“It’s all right.” he said, smoothing the bangs from hanging in his face. “You won’t disturb them, they’re too deep asleep. The room across the hall,” he pointed out the door, “is where Serena sleeps, but other than that and the one at the end of the hall where Leon sleeps, they should all be empty. Oh, wait, Zan is in the room beside Leon’s--they’re the two at the very far end. But the others should be empty.”

“Oh, thanks.” She hesitated to move. “Um, who are you? I don’t think we’ve met . . .”

He slapped his forehead, a resounding smack! echoing in the room. “Oh. Sorry. I’m Jonathan, husband of Crystal, Andraya’s daughter. She’s the one in the bed. The other is our daughter, Anastasia. They’re both a bit worn out, so I thought I’d get them settled in before introducing myself. What’s your name, I don’t believe I recognize you.”

She pointed at herself, “Maria Deluca.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Maria.”

* * * * *

Liz didn’t stop at any of the rooms, passing them without a glance. Wordlessly, Max followed. They wound up at the end of the hallway, which spilled out into a large, open room with a table and chairs and what he could see resembled a kitchen. Everything was designed differently, but the basic structures were overwhelmingly the same. It was like they weren’t even leaving Earth.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “So how did you know this was here? And why is it your ship?”

Letting go of his hand, Liz walked over to a small couch, trailing her hand along the surface of the table as she passed. “This ship was mine. I named it Valerian. I captained it during the war. I remember.”

His brow furrowed deep. “How much do you remember, Liz?”

Taking a seat on the couch, she glanced up to meet his eyes. “Just bits and pieces. It’s not remembering so much as it is. . . “ She trailed off. “It’s like on a test, when you see a problem, and you know you know the answer, you remember studying it, you can even picture what the answer looks like in the book, but somehow, you just can’t read it. I already know all this stuff, I just. . . can’t read it all yet. Things make sense when I’m faced with them, when I meet someone or see something, the answers are finally understandable.”

Shaking her head, she looked down at her hands in her lap. “I don’t know. I don’t know if that makes much sense.”

He shrugged. “I guess it does.” Walking over to the couch, he sat down beside her, staring out at the “kitchen”, if that’s what it really was. There were counters and what could be a sink, with a set of small circles on one corner of the far counter. Whatever it was, the whole room looks like it hadn’t been used in a long time.

“So what now?” she asked, knowing the question had been posed too frequently. As if a circuit that had been fixed in her brain, suddenly everything seemed foreign. Her mother was dead, she was on a space ship headed for a strange planet where, apparently, she was expected to end a war that had lasted--how long? A century? Who realistically thought she could manage that?

The weight of the situation pressed down on her, threatening to break and her eyes burned in anticipation of the wave of tears to follow. She stomped down on it. Now was not the time to have a breakdown.

Instead she turned to face Max.

He glanced down at her. “I guess we wait. There’s not anything we can do from a ship, so . . .for now we sit tight and wait.”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I just--”

“Oh my god, have you guys seen the toilets on this thing? Finally some alien technology worth using on Earth. That thing is incredible.” Maria burst in. Seeing the two on the couch, she immediately started backing up, “Oh, I’m so sorry. Just--go back to whatever you were doing before I interrupted.”

Max and Liz exchanged a look before Liz smiled over at Maria. “No, it’s fine. Come sit.”

“What’s so amazing about this toilet?” Max inquired, grinning.

“There’s an amazing toilet?” Isabel walked in the room, trailed closely by Michael. Her expression spoke to her opinion of the matter.

Maria stared over at them for a moment. “Well, it’s not exactly amazing . . .” she said, gesturing unenthusiastically. What a perfect conversation for Michael and Perfect Princess Isabel to walk in on. It’s not that she had a problem with Isabel, or that she was jealous, exactly. But why did she always end up the one looking stupid and childish?

Isabel raised one side of her mouth. “Right.”

“Alright, so what’s the plan, oh great leaders?” Michael said, crossing his arms. “I guess there are two of you now, you know, Liz being queen and all.”

Maria shook her head. “Actually, Michael, Liz is High Queen, so that makes her the boss, not Max.” Wincing at how that sounded, Maria spun toward Max, “Sorry. I didn’t mean it that way, I was just--.”

“It’s fine, Maria. I know you didn’t.”

“The plan is to train.”

They all turned to the doorway where Serena was standing. Sam held her hand, but took off running toward the couch at the sight of Max and Liz. Her eyes were nearly glowing.

“Mommy! Daddy!”

Serena winced, hoping for the best, and allowed a smile when Max and Liz scooted slightly for her to squish between them. The couch wasn’t made for three people.

“Train? Our powers?” Michael asked.

“Not exactly.” Serena moved closer to all of them, swinging herself down on a chair by the table. Tucking stray hairs behind her ear, she continued, “I mean, yeah, there will be some of that, but mostly it’s hand-to-hand and weapon combat we’re concerned with. Liz and Maria especially. There is no magic solution to this war. It will take fighting on all your parts.” She looked each in the eye. “People on all sides of this have powers like yours or greater, and they won’t be what will decide this. Powers can be blocked easier than a sword.”

“Sword?” Maria demanded. Her mouth hung open slightly, eyebrows raised. “You guys are aliens, and you fight with swords?”

Nodding, Serena pulled a small disk out of her pocket. “See this? EMP. Or close enough. Electromagnetic pulse emitter. It’ll knock out any electrical or, well, there’s not really a human term you’ll understand for what it is. It’ll knock out any type of firing weapons, such as guns or lasers or whatever you’d expect aliens to have. These things are common as dirt. Warfare had to be reduced to something that couldn’t be shut off by a device from the enemy. The only way to stop a sword is to block it or kill the person carrying it.”

“Swords are only one of many weapons you will be trained to use.” Jonathan stepped inside the room, glancing around at the assembled teenagers. “For those of you who don’t know me yet, I’m Jonathan, or Jon. I’m married to Crystal.”

“Crystal? My--I guess my daughter?”

“Yes, she’s your daughter, Liz. She’s asleep right now, along with our daughter, Anastasia. They should both be out of it for a few days.”

“Out of it? Why? Are they all right?” asked Isabel. Could this Crystal be one of Max’s children? She knew there were three, and Sam and Josh were obviously two of them. Crystal was Liz’s other daughter, so did that mean she was Max’s too? Did Max have two daughters or two sons? Then who was the father of Liz’s--Andraya’s, she amended--fourth child?

She’d worry about it later.

Jon was nodding. “They’re fine, just exhausted. Healing takes a lot out of them.” Struck with a thought, he focused on Liz. “You’ll be glad to know that your friend, the one who was with you in the explosion, is alive and well. Crystal healed him and we brought him back to Roswell with us after he regained his strength.”

Max frowned. “You were the ones to find them? If you took care of Sean, why did you just leave Liz to die?”

“We didn’t find Liz. My wife and I were up in the Northeast, were we’d been living since Ana was born. Gerin found them, and he can’t heal. It would’ve been too risky to send Liz up with us in her state; she was too vulnerable and too sought after by our enemies. Not to mention we couldn’t have protected her properly while she was recovering. Gerin had a strong hunch you guys were Zan, Vilandra, Rath, and Ava, so he left her where he knew you’d find her.”

“A strong hunch? He bet her life on a strong hunch that we were?” Max felt his face heating up. “What if we hadn’t been? What if we hadn’t found her in time?”

Serena interjected, “We didn’t know she was that bad off. Gerin doesn’t tell us a lot of things he probably should, but I knew you would find her. I’d seen it.”

“Seen it?”

“I have premonitions. That’s kind of my role. I’m the Seer. I can’t control them and I can’t force myself to have one, but when I do see things, they usually come true. They do come true unless I do something to change them.”

“So Sean?” Maria piped up. “He’s all right? And--Crystal can heal? Like Max?”

Jonathan let Serena answer. “Not quite like Max. Max--or Zan Kynyr--was a warrior too. Crystal is just a healer. Ana has the potential to be both, we’re not sure yet. But Crystal’s healing powers go above and beyond manipulating molecular structures. She can even bring the dead back to life. Leon was brought back to life by Crystal. That’s how we discovered her gift, a long time ago. She can heal. She can bring back the recently departed.”

There was silence for the blink of an eye as the realization sunk in.

“Oh my god,” Liz whispered.

“You’re telling us this now?!” Isabel leapt to her feet, face flushed with tears. Her fists were clenched and ready to swing but she hung back, burying her face in her hands. “You could’ve saved him, but you didn’t tell us and now it’s too late. It’s too late!”

“Isabel.”

The sound of his voice froze the blood in her heart, then warmed it all over again in instants. She wondered if that’s what a heart attack felt like.

It was him. His voice.

He’d said her name.

Told you it'd be out by Friday. My muse decided to return, and I have no idea how long that will last, but I'm hoping for eternity. (I know, I know, wishful thinking.) Hopefully the next chapter--already in the works! Man, I'm on a roll!--will be out soon.

But yes. Just out of curiosity: are there many people still reading this? I know I disappeared for a while, so I'd totally understand.

Anyway, on to the good stuff, right?

Ok, so this chapter needs a glossary to make things a little more comprehendible, and here you go:

da’jad: A curse word in Sachsen (the standard language of the Alliance). Basically means shitty but literally translates to “Hell’s ass”. Their version of Hell isn’t quite what ours is here on Earth, but we’ll get to that later . Of course, in this fic it’s rather implied that any aliens (apart from the Pod Squad and those speaking to them) are speaking in another language already. I prefer, however, to keep the curse words un-translated because, as in most languages, curse words just don’t have the same effect when translated, and don’t translate neatly, and raise the rating on my story

rev(s): Just longer than an Earth month, about 35 days on Antar. ‘Rev’ is short for revolvings on the planet’s axis. Revs are the standard unit of measurement for time in the Alliance. The number of days varies depending on the planet but it all equals the same time passage. (Juron’s rev length is 24 days--it rotates faster, that sort of thing.)

kazra’ia: This one has been mentioned before, and explained briefly, I believe. But it essentially translates to ‘rising phoenix (or similar type being that is reborn from the flames.) It’s not an exact translation (that would be kazra=red ia, short for aia=lady), but that’s the meaning of the phrase. A nickname given to Andy during her first few years of the war. Has other connotations as well that get explained later

Chapter Twenty-Five

Vilandra felt the world move beneath her. Not that anything literally changed. It never did, no matter how many times she swore the feeling couldn’t be her imagination. How did one man always manage to throw her off her guard? Just the same, he was there, and even the sight of him across the room set off her alarms and her emotions. She hadn’t seen him since the Emperor had first sent his ships into their star system.

“Tomás.” She maneuvered her way over to his side, hands on her hips. “I was under the impression you had other planets to see to.”

He looked down at her as if expecting something more, then nodded. “I do--did. I did. I was just checking in with our people here. There have been some--developments recently. We were worried Keiran was making a direct move toward Antar and her subsidiaries.”

“Well, don’t you think as queen, I have a right to know when these developments occur?”

“Vilandra.” Apologetically, “You know we can’t afford to have you seen as part of the Resistance. The Emperor’s grips are still strong with many of your allies. Keiran can’t find out the significance of Antar’s involvement, that’s why Kynyr left.”

“My brother left because he’s obsessed. Because he doesn’t know what he wants and he’s too young for the responsibility Mother would give him.”

Tomás regarded her with a tilt to his head. “Your mother would have him be king, as I understand it.”

“She would he were her puppet on the throne, if that’s what you mean.” She crossed her arms and looked out at the guests milling about the room. It was her throne room, and it was crowded with sniveling dignitaries. “She’s been trying to marry him off but he’s been chasing after this phantom girl, this dream and he won’t let go.”

He grinned. “I think he’s managed to. Or he’s found her.”

She raised a delicate eyebrow. “Found her?”

“Mm-hmm.” Tomás shook his head. “You should see him go at it with Andy. I’ve never seen someone get under that girl’s skin like he does, and I’ve never seen him so intent on another person before.”

“Andy? As in, Andraya? As in, the princes--”

Tomás placed his hand over her mouth, marveling at the feel of her lips pressed to his palm even as he took a forceful tone. “Don’t say that word. Not here.” He moved his hand hesitantly, longingly. “But yes, that Andy.”

“And my brother is romantically involved with her?!” The sinking feeling in her stomach was suddenly warranted. Though she herself had nothing against the kazra’ia, plenty of other, very powerful people did. And the girl didn’t have a great track record when it came to leaving people alive in her wake. How many people died in the siege that was launched purely to kidnap her from her home?

Vilandra didn’t want her brother getting too close to the center of the war. Antar had always comfortably sat on the sidelines of the alliances. Kynyr courting the High Queen put a definite marker on their planet’s loyalties.

“And what’s wrong with that?” Tomás censured his expression for the public scene. “Andy is a wonderful woman. She’s done her damnedest to make something of a completely da’jad life. She didn’t have to turn against Keiran; in fact, if she wanted, she could’ve ruled as Empress. That’s what Keiran was grooming her for. A warrior Empress. And she deserves to have someone to stand at her side while she fights this losing battle against people who raised her, fighting for people who don’t give a damn for her.”

“If she’s so wonderful, why aren’t you the one with her?” An instinctive reply. She felt the monster inside rising at the sound of praises for another woman from his lips. He used to speak about her. But then he’d taken off for distant worlds once more, under the command of a renegade Imperial General, Andraya.

He sighed, biting his lip in frustration and wanting to wring her neck and caress it all at once. “I’m not in love with Andraya. I respect her, and I’ll fight for her til the day I die, but that’s not romantic love and there is already a woman in my heart.”

She raised her chin, eyes turned to stare down her nose. “Well, give her my regards, this woman in your heart.”

“Vi!” He reached out and grabbed her arm as she spun away. “Vilandra, stop this. You know why I left.”

She was already nodding in agreement. “I do. And I still think it’s the dumbest excuse I’ve ever heard. I don't need protecting.”

* * * * *

“Welcome home.”

He glanced up from the book in his hands. “Oh, hey Vi.”

“Hey Vi?” Vilandra put her hands on her hips, staring down her brother as he straightened up in his seat. “That’s all you have to say to your sister who you’ve not seen in over two years?”

Kynyr shook the hair out of his eyes; he’d let his ponytail down as soon as he’d gotten in his room. “Sorry, Vi. You know I don’t mean it like that. Just have a lot on my mind. I wasn’t expecting you. “ Rising to his feet, he strode over and wrapped her in his arms. “It’s good to see you again. I’m glad you’re all right.”

“Of course I’m all right.” She avoided his eyes. “Look, Ky, there’s something you should know.”

“You don’t approve of my relationship with Andraya?”

She stomped her feet. “No! I mean, yes, that’s one thing, but no! That’s not it. Kynyr, this is more important than your personal life!”

“Vi, calm down.” Gripping her shoulders, he gazed down at her. “Now, what is it?”

Suddenly her mouth was dry. “I--” Wringing her hands, she turned away from him, pacing in front of the doorway. “I’ve been training. With Larek.”

His eyes were trained on her face. “Vi--”

“I know, I’m the heir. I know that. I know I can’t be a Guardian. But Ky, it’s who I am! I can’t deal with these people, with making these decisions, with the idea of marrying Khivar! There’s a reason Larek chose me to be Guardian. You’re the king, Ky. You’re king, and I’m the Guardian. That’s how it’s supposed to work. Don’t ask me how I know that, but it is.” She felt her face heating at his intensity, but she dug her feet beneath her. This was a fight she would not give into; she believed too strongly for that.

After several moments, he shook his head, raking a hand through his hair. “No, Vi. You’ve been listening to Mother too much. I’m not going to be king.”

“You don’t have a choice.” Her breathing hitched. He’d never forgive her, would he? “I’m abdicating the throne, as is my prerogative. I chose to be the Guardian I was selected and trained to be.”

He refused to look at her. “You’re doing this because of Tomás. Because he was hurt in the battle. You can’t protect him, Vi, even as a Guardian.”

“No.” Her heart lurched at the knowledge. Tomás was injured? How badly? Why hadn’t he contacted her? Was it because he couldn’t, his wounds were so bad? “I’m doing this for me. I’m doing it because this planet has gone too long without a proper Guardian, and right now we can’t afford to borrow Anhalt’s. Larek has his own people and planet to protect.”

Overcome with laughter, Ky tossed his head back, shaking it all the while. “Gods, this is unbelievable.”

“Why? Why is this so hard for you to accept?”

“Because I can’t stay here, Vilandra! Andraya has a child; he’s barely two-years-old. She’s trying to fight a war, and lead the Alliance, and raise her son. She needs my help and I’ve pledged it.” he replied, letting the resentment bite through his tone.

Lacking sympathy, Vilandra crossed her arms. “Yours?”

“No. He’s not my son by blood. But I’m the only father he’s ever known, and I’m the only father he ever will know.”

“You’re king, Zan Kynyr. I’ve already been named Guardian.”

He slammed his fist into the wall. Shouting, “You had no right! Not without consulting me!”

Her heart was pounding against her ribs, but she ignored him. It was pounding for a different reason. “How is Tomás? You said he was hurt.”

The laughter was back, his shoulders shaking. “You expect me to answer you now? Why? Why do you care what happens to Tomás? Because he shared your bed for a few revs?”

“Because I care about him and want to know! Is he badly hurt?” Had her brother always been so pigheaded? They’d been close as children, training together for the guardianship (though she had been the one selected by the Priestess). But then they’d grown up, and starting at the age of sixteen, their mother pressured them to marry. Her to Khivar, and Kynyr to some other planet’s princess. Vilandra leapt excitedly at the chance to be grown up and respected (she was older than Ky by two years, yet always treated as if she were the younger of the two), to finally have a husband.

Then she’d met Khivar, and that idea had quickly fallen sour. Still, their mother was their mother, and Vilandra was loathe to alienate her completely. So she’d played nice with Khivar, knowing when the time came to marry him, she would be able and ready to refuse.

Kynyr had chosen a different route: rebellion. He’d bucked at their mother’s demands from the start, leaving the palace for undeterminable amounts of time and returning more and more withdrawn. Then, three years ago, he’d up and left the planet. Took off and hadn’t told anyone where he was going. If it hadn’t been for Tomás, who’d been aboard the ship that eventually picked Ky up from a stray planet (Vi couldn’t remember which--Kalla? Perhaps. Though what he was doing on that backwater planet was beyond her.) and taken him as quasi-crew, she wouldn’t have known Ky was even alive.

Now he was pledging himself to the High Queen? The kazra’ia of the Empire?

And refusing to tell his sister what was going on.

She ran her fingers through her hair, tearing in frustration at the snag in the end of the locks. “Ky, please. I care about him, and I care about you, and why are you doing this? Why are you acting like this? It’s always been a possibility that you would be king, that you would be the Zan.”

Stalking toward the large, open windows spanning the far wall, he leaned his hands on the railing, letting the breeze ruffle his hair and shirt. The weather was growing colder. “I’m sorry, Vi. I know.” Closing his eyes, head down, he continued, “Tomás is recovering well. He was injured at the Coronation; it went about as well as we expected, which is to say, not very. But she’s queen now, and things are changing.”

“For the better?”

“It can’t get much worse.”

* * * * *

“Tomás?!” Her shriek cut through the sound of falling stone.

Hands and arms thrown over his head, he barreled toward her, shouting all the way, “Vi, get back inside! Where’s are the children? Are they safe?”

She was reaching for him, pulling him after her. “They’re inside with Mother! They can’t do this! It’s illegal, Tomás! We’re a sovereign world, it’s not--”

“The rules don’t matter anymore, Vilandra! Khivar’s broken with the Alliance!”

“This is Khivar’s doing?!” she demanded, shielding her eyes as glass flew up from the ground with each crash above their heads. “He’s our ally!”

“Not since you abdicated!” They finally reached the marble doors of the palace, rushing inside and motioning the doors to be closed behind them. The heavy stone muffled the noise from outside, but the walls shook and valuables fell from every surface.

Tomás shook his hair free of debris. “Apparently, he was only your ally if he got to be king.”

* * * * *

She swung the sword with two hands, feeling its weight like a lifeline. Up, parry, spin, slash, move on, parry low the next attack. She couldn’t hear for the screams and shouts of soldiers moving inside, even as their own warriors surged forward.

Outnumbered. She knew the odds were bad. If they surrendered the capital, there were still the cities along the coast too difficult for Khivar to take just yet. A tactical retreat, reinforcing the regiments stationed there for safekeeping.

Distracted for a moment’s thought, and a blade found its way into her arm. Shrieking, she flung it off and circled around, diving toward her enemy with sword raised. He’d left his side open by stabbing her; her sword hit flesh and pierced through to the other side.

* * * * *

Hair scattering about her head, she flew down the stairs, hands reaching outward for someone, anyone. “Chrysanthe! Gerin!” A shrill tone rang in her voice as she landed at the base of the stair. She ran down the hall, pausing to inspect every room she passed, nearly smacking the doorway as she continued on at full speed. “Lilie! Someone!”

“Vilandra, what’s--”

The brunette peeked her head inside and immediately felt the tug of Vilandra’s hands. Dragged back up the stairs, Lilie gained her footing at last and matched pace with the frantic woman.

“Vi, what’s wrong? What’s happened?”

“It’s Psyche! I think something’s happened to Andraya. Her connection to Psyche just vanished.” Vilandra threw open the door to the nursery, pointing to the crib in a single graceful stretch of her arm. The baby inside wasn’t moving, her tail lying still across her tiny back.

“Oh goddess. Get Chrysanthe, NOW!”

* * * * *

Blood poured down the side of her head, sticky and coating her hair; instead of hardening, it kept on its flow, pooling in the fabric on her shoulder. The world was spinning, whirling in and out of focus but she held the wall and kept walking. “Oh goddess, no. No no no no no.”

A stabbing pain in her belly reminded her of more injuries, and she sank to the ground, feet collapsed beneath her. Her breath hitched, lungs screaming at her for it. Everything burned, though her eyes were cool with tears. Spinning, the world wouldn’t stop spinning. She rolled her head back and forth against the wall, “No, no no no no no. He’s not dead, he can’t be dead.”

His voice echoed in her head, and she doubled over, clutching her stomach, wailing sobs into her knees. The world was spinning, and he was gone.

* * * * *

Isabel shot up from her bed, sheets settling on the floor as if irritated at being disturbed. Bringing a hand to her head, she swallowed, calming her heart with steady, even breaths. Memories were assailing her at every turn.

And Tomás. . .

Who was he? She wondered if Alex was somehow his reincarnation. It wasn’t a great leap, after all. Alex was Liz’s friend; Tomás was Andraya’s. And if Liz was someone reborn, why couldn’t Alex be? Was it too much to hope?

She shook her head. It had been too much to hope she’d ever see him again, and she had. He was back, he was alive, he was here.

Closing her eyes, she murmured a prayer of thanks. It had become her nightly routine, thanking whatever gods had brought him back to her.

They’d been on the ship a week. A solid week of nothing but the inside of this tiny ship, with no one but the handful of their group to see and talk to. How anyone lived their lives in one of these things was a miracle to her, because she was going mad. Slowly, but oh so steadily. And she had so many questions that no one seemed able to answer.

Sliding her feet off the edge of the bed, she pulled herself up and donned the sweatpants she’d left on the corner. She wouldn’t sleep more tonight, anyway.

The corridor was empty. Tiptoeing silently down the carpeted floor, she made her way to the room just down the hall. A wave of her hand over the small square--it had taken her way too long to figure out how to open doors her first day onboard. For an alien, she felt rather inept with things she supposed were her natural habitat--granted her access inside.

Two shadows leapt to their feet across the room. “Isabel?!” a voice whispered. When her eyes adjusted to the dark, she could see the clear shapes of Liz and Maria, huddled just to the side of the bed.

“What are you two doing in here?!” she asked, hissing the sound through her teeth. She wasn’t jealous; she was protective.

Maria took offense, stepping back. “What are we doing here? We’re his best friends, checking up on him. What are you doing here?”

She turned her head. “I’m just--making sure. I couldn’t sleep.”

Liz nodded, “Yeah, neither could we. We were here last night too.”

There was a groan from the bed, and Alex’s head popped up from its nest in the pillows. Eyes still blurry from sleep, he blinked a few times before addressing his visitors. “Uh, hi.”

All three girls blushed.

Liz cleared her throat. “Uh, hi Alex. Sorry, we didn’t mean to wake you . . .”

He leaned his elbow on the pillow, sitting up enough to face them. “As flattered as I am that you guys want to watch me sleep, it’s kinda creepin’ me out. At least one of you has been in here every night this week.” He eyed them worriedly.

Isabel moved closer to the bed. “We know. We just couldn’t sleep, and--we’re not used to having you back yet, is all.”

He was nodding by the time she finished. “That makes four of us. I don’t think I’m quite used to being back yet either. Or rather, having been gone at all.” Flopping back down, he twisted so he was staring up at the ceiling. “I feel like I never left, but I remember dying and I know everything’s different. We didn’t just go to prom, did we?”

“No.”

There was awkward silence as they all realized how far removed that world was.

* * * * *

“Liz, you’ve been avoiding me.” Maria folded her arms across her chest, standing in front of the door, feet planted. They’d left Alex’s room to let him sleep some more, and Maria followed Liz back to her room. “And I’m not leaving til we talk.”

Liz glanced over at Maria exasperated. “It’s late, Maria. Can’t we do this tomorrow?”

“No. During the day we all have ‘training’,” Maria made quotation signs with her hands, “and you manage to avoid being alone with me. No, we need to talk, now.”

“Maria. . .”

“Liz, your mom just died.” Maria said, raising her eyebrows. “I mean, I know a lots been going on, but I am your best friend. Can we please talk about this? You’ve got children. And now you’re a certified member of the Alien League, and it’s just--can we please talk?”

Liz shook her head, hair whipping back and forth. “Mmn-mn. No, see, I’m still human.” She pointed at her skin, “These cells, they’re human cells. So I’ve got this past life, and that woman had children, but I don’t. Come on, Maria, your mom always used to say we’d had important past lives--she took us to see that palm reader when we were little, remember? Ever since, your mom insisted we’d lived lives before. Maybe she was right. Maybe that reader saw something, but it doesn’t matter. That’s all it is, it’s just this silly connection. I’m not Andraya! I’m not!”

“Liz,” Maria made calming motions with her hands. “Liz, you’ve been acting really weird. You’re acting like you know what’s going on. And I hate to say this, but you have to at least figure out who Andraya was because we’re going to war. War, Liz. All this stupid footwork and weightlifting we’ve been doing all week? That’s so we can fight. God, Liz. I mean, fighting in a battle? I feel like we’re--knights or something!”

Liz rolled her eyes, turning away to smooth the sheets on her bed. “Maria, we are not knights.”

“No? Then what are we?”

She stared at the wrinkles in the sheets. Even aliens couldn’t get wrinkle-free fabric. “I don’t know.”

Knowing it was never good when Liz wouldn’t look her in the eyes, Maria plopped down right where Liz was staring, in the middle of the bed. Crossing her legs beneath her, she braced herself. “Liz?”

“I don’t know, Maria.” Her eyes were glazed with fear and tears. “I remember things that I wish I didn’t. I don’t think I like who I was. I don’t think Andraya was a good person, and I don’t want to be like that. I don’t know what to do, and I don’t know what’s going on any more than you do. I’m covered from head to toe with bruises and scraps from falling to the ground over and over and over again. I have to practice falling. This is not how I ever pictured my life would be, but this is it. This is it; this is my life; this is me. And I have to deal with that.”

Maria pursed her lips and nodded. Reaching out her hands, “Come here, Liz.”

Sniffling, Liz swallowed a smile along with the urge to sob, and fell into Maria’s offered arms.

“We’ll be okay.” Maria nodded into Liz’s hair, blinking her eyes rapidly even as she rubbed a hand up and down Liz’s back. “I mean, we have to be, right? We’re the good guys.”

Well, late tonight, but tonight.

This gives away a lot more than I originally intended, but I figured it was about time to shed some light on a few things. Also plants many clues about upcoming events.



Thank you guys so much for all your bumps and your wonderful responses! I'm so glad people are enjoying this.

On with the show!

Chapter Twenty Six

Sweat dripped down the side of her face, her left leg threatening to give if she put much more weight on it. The muscles in her arms burned from the constant weight of the sword; it seemed like she’d been holding on to it for days. She was circling her opponent, knees bent at ready, waiting for his movement.

He charged forward, bearing down on her with his blade, pressing his weight on top, forcing her to the ground. She’d been taught how to respond to this; she could remember practicing the move, her body just wasn’t working fast enough. As she shifted to begin her roll away, the tip of his sword was buried in the floor beside her head. She was trapped.

Michael let go of his sword, leaving it stuck in the mat they’d been sparring on. He reached out an arm to help her up.

“Good fight, Liz.”

Dusting off her pants, she didn’t meet his gaze. “Yeah, yeah it was.”

He was already turning away to face Jonathan, who’d been watching from the sidelines with Max, Maria, Isabel, Alex, Josh and Crystal. Serena and Leon were operating the ship, Zan had holed himself up in his room since they’d taken off, and Sam and Anastasia spent their days playing make-believe games in the lounge room while the adults were training.

Jon scratched at the stubble on his chin. “Not bad, not bad. Michael, you’ve improved a lot but you’re still moving sloppily. Tighten up your attacks, it’ll save energy and time in the long run. Liz, you’re thinking too much. These have got to be second-nature to you, you shouldn’t have to be working out what you should do next as you’re doing it; that slows you down. When he attacks like that, you have to either move out of the way, or direct his weight elsewhere. You’ll never match him head-on; you don’t weight enough and you don’t have the height advantage he has. Knock his attack to the side, that’ll throw out his momentum and you’ll have a chance to gain the offensive.”

“Right. Yeah, okay.” Liz said through her heavy breathing. They’d been running drills all day, and then sparring in set matches like the one she’d just lost.

She’d thought this would all be a lot easier than it had turned out to be. Wasn’t she supposed to be this great warrior? This savior? Wasn’t she the reincarnation of a legend? An infamous General and Queen?

Then why did she suck?

Everyone was picking up their spare shoes and towels from the edges of the room as Jon called her back. “Liz! I’d like to speak to you for a moment, if you have the time.”

Of course she had the time. What else was she going to do? After training, they all hopped in their showers and spent the evenings lounging about in hopes of giving their sore muscles a break. She waved at Maria and Alex to head on out when they hesitated at the door, glancing back at her. She’d tell them all about whatever Jon had to say later.

Hanging back, Josh waited with his hands in his pockets by the door. “Everyone ok?” he asked of his brother-in-law. It had taken him a week to wake up from his apparent coma. No one had explained to the Roswellians what had caused it, and they weren’t overly anxious to ask. Whatever had happened, Josh seemed fine now, apart from his continued weakness. Crystal had expressly forbidden him from practicing until she gave the word -- she was still holding out.

Jon nodded, smiling, and set about folding the mats back up against the wall, letting Liz stand awkwardly in the middle of the room. He appeared to be in no hurry to talk with her about whatever it was he wanted.

The door slid quietly closed behind Josh.

Liz crossed her arms and let her eyes train the walls. They were bare save for a bar that ran across the middle of the farthest wall. It looked like something from a ballet class she’d taken as a young girl. They’d never used it though, so she had no idea what it was actually for.

He was probably going to ask what she was struggling with. After all, Andraya had been an expert at all this, what was taking her so long to pick it up? Even Maria was doing better than she was, and Maria had never lifted a weight before in her life. (Not that Liz had either, but she’d danced, so wouldn’t she have a little more grace than everyone else?) Maria and Alex would be waiting in her room to harass her when she got back. It was amazing, really, how quickly their supposed group could deteriorate. Aliens with aliens and humans with humans. Max, Michael and Isabel had been standoffish since they’d gotten on the ship; the only time one of them had made any sort of effort to communicate with one of the three humans had been Isabel’s nightly checkups on Alex, just to make sure he was still there.

It didn’t help that every single one of them, human and alien alike, had aching, screaming muscles and bruises enough that laying down to sleep at night was a challenge. None of them were in particularly friendly moods. And as much as Liz was falling behind everyone else, they all had a long way to go. One month before they’d reach Juron. One month before they entered war.

“Liz, I wanted to ask how you were handling all of this.” Jon stood and wiped his hands on his knees, dusting off dirt that wasn’t there. “I know it can be overwhelming, and I can see how frustrating this training is for you.”

She shook herself out of her thoughts. “I, um. I don’t know. I just thought it would all be a lot easier than it is. The training, I mean.”

His eyes were narrowed on her face, head nodding absently. “Yes.” Without warning, he dropped to the floor, crossing his legs as a cushion on the way down and settling in. “Sit. I have some questions for you and I’d rather you be comfortable.”

She slid down to a seated position across from him. “Ok. I don’t know if I have the answers.”

“Well, then I can give them to you. Do you remember Andraya’s childhood?”

“I don’t know. Not much. I remember her mother dying,” Liz paused, closing her eyes and trying not to see the spiral of red and white, “I remember bits of her father. He wasn’t very nice; she never liked the idea of a father because of the way he was.”

Jon shifted his legs, reaching up with one hand to rub the soft, auburn stubble growing on his chin. “Well, that would be because Andy’s father was Keiran.”

“Keiran.” Head cocked, she bit her lip a moment in thought. “The guy who captured Gerin? I know he’s one of the bad guys, right?”

His smile was strained. “Yeah. Yeah, he’s one of the bad guys, all right.” Running a hand through his hair, tightening its grip in the roots and holding, Jon growled. The sound vibrated in his chest, his lips drawing to a scowl. “I can’t believe Gerin didn’t---never mind. Keiran is the Commander of the Empire’s military forces. He rules the Empire from behind its shadow of an Emperor. He was Andraya’s father.”

“But--how? I mean, if he was so horrible, why would--was Andraya’s mother raped or something? Wasn’t she a princess?” Her hands gestured helplessly. “Why?”

“I’m really not the one to be telling you this. Andraya was my mother-in-law, and what I know of her history is only second hand. By the time we met, she was High Queen, with three children and one on the way.” He shook his hair free of his hand’s death grip. “But it’s not fair to you for us to throw you in this world without telling you about it.

“Andraya’s mother, the Princess Ephiny, was the youngest of seven children of the High Queen Athanasia of the House of Juri. No one but Andraya, Keiran and Ephiny ever knew the exact details, but somehow -- not rape, we know that much -- when she was twenty-one years old, Ephiny returned home to Juron pregnant. Not being married wasn’t exactly unusual -- Athanasia herself had never been married. But Ephiny made no secret of who the father was. Keiran. At the time, he was only one general among many in the fledgling Zuken Empire. There was no war, there had been no wars in over a thousand years. The thing is though, Ephiny’s older sister Milosa had just been married and was expected to announce a pregnancy at any time. Her child was supposed to be the heir, the first grandchild born to the High Queen.

“Ephiny was seen as too young to have a child, and the man she’d chosen to father it was outspokenly anti-Alliance and he wasn’t of any noble blood. Athanasia had wanted Milosa -- the second oldest of the seven -- to mother the heir. She’d been groomed for it, actually, and her husband was a member of a prominent family on Clya. Andraya’s birth was---not well received. But she was the heir, indisputably.”

Liz swallowed the growing apple in her throat. Great. “So what happened? If there had been peace for so long, what ended it? Andraya’s birth?”

“No, Andraya was a catalyst for change,” His lips twitched, trying to smile before he found his focus again. He knew Liz was oblivious to the irony of that statement, but that was a lesson she’d learn on her own. “But she was not the cause. The Empire had been growing in the fringes of the Alliance, just past its borders. It was growing into a threat even before Andraya was conceived. And when she was eight years old, there was a gathering of the Council, a diplomatic summit. Sort of like a meeting of the UN, but on a bigger scale, and much more rare. Their goal was to find a way to deal with the threat posed to the Alliance. Even representatives of the Empire attended the summit. They were still technically part of the Alliance and had a legal right to be there. Keiran was one of the representatives.”

“That’s when the siege happened. After the summit failed. Ephiny was killed, and Andraya was taken.” Liz interrupted, eyes seeing past Jon into something far more distant.

Jon nodded. “That’s right. Athanasia declared the Empire illegal, and they didn’t so much care for that. Negotiations lasted only a few days longer, before the siege. The Celes Palace was decimated, Ephiny was hunted and killed by Keiran. He left with his daughter and her younger cousin Callisto, the much anticipated daughter of Princess Milosa and second in line for the throne. The two weren’t seen again until they were grown women.”

“Then what happened?”

He ignored her question, gazing instead at the bruises growing up along her arms and legs. “Do you know what Andraya used to tell me? Back when I was a young soldier, eager to please and none too experienced with actual combat?”

She wanted an answer to her question, but conceded to wait a bit longer. Her sweat-soaked ponytail smacked the sides of her neck as she shook her head; no, she didn’t know what Andraya had said.

“She told me about her own training, under Keiran. She and Callisto were taken back to Zuken to be molded into generals for the Empire. And they were beaten, tortured, and trained extensively in multiple forms of fighting. Anyone will tell you that Princess Callisto was build for battle; almost six feet tall, stockier than Andraya and capable of lifting as much as most men. At the age of eighteen, Andraya still weighed only about a hundred pounds. In her first lesson with the sword, she wasn’t even able to lift it above her head. When she finally could, she fought clumsily and slow. In the end, it took her months of little sleep, extra practice, and aches and pains to master the weapon, but master it she did. She could fight with either hand, with both, against nearly any opponent. Years of constant warfare finally turned that skill into something reliable.

“The point of all this is that she never had much talent with the sword. She was better suited to the crossbow, but she refused to be limited to long range like that. It may take you extra work to develop this skill, but it will be worth it.” Jon smiled gently, encouragingly.

“So I’m bad at it not despite my past life, but because of it?” She didn’t like the idea of not being good at something she was supposed to be skilled at, but on the other hand, she loathed the fact that who she was depended on who she used to be. She couldn’t decide which was worse.

“No, you’re not all that bad, really. You’re inexperienced. Michael has a natural talent for the blade, and Max is doing relatively well. Isabel, Alex, and Maria are no better or worse off than you, skill wise. You expect too much of yourself, too soon. You’re not her.”

Picking at the laces on her tennis shoes, Liz tried to find words. How could she express this fear of hers? That she’d lost part of herself somewhere in transition, and now the Liz part of her was disappearing?

It felt like she had, at least.

He gave mercy to her fraying laces, reaching over to catch her chin in his hand and tilt it up so she was looking at him and not her feet. “I’m not going to lie and tell you no one expects you to be her, because it’s not true. Even Andraya’s children, whether I agree with it or not, are expecting you to somehow bring her back to life, but that won’t happen. She’ll be a part of you, undoubtedly, because how could she not? You share a soul and her memories. It will change you. You will have to learn to live with that. But you’re still and always will be Liz Parker, from Roswell, New Mexico. I know it’s got to be confusing as hell, that this has come at the worst possible time. You’re a teenager, and that’s enough to mess anyone up but you’ve got aliens and reincarnation thrown into the mix as well. Give yourself a break, and don’t try to deal with it all on your own. I’ve noticed all of you kids from Roswell tend to clam up when things happen, you close up and keep everyone else out. Try to deal with things on your own. It isn’t healthy, and it won’t keep you alive very long.”

Rising to his feet, Jon held out his hand to help her up. A pat on the shoulder and a grin were all he could give.

* * * * *

“Max, I think Alex is reincarnated too.”

He lifted his head from where it was resting on his crossed arms. Sitting back against the wall, knees up against his chest, he waited for Michael and Isabel to say what they’d come in his room to say. The statement about Alex was not what he was anticipating.

“What?” Even Michael, who’d entered behind her with his arms crossed, looked over at her like she’d announced her opinion of the latest NFL draft picks.

She rolled her eyes. “What is harder for you to accept, that I think independently of you two or that Alex could be involved too?”

“Alex already is involved, Isabel. And what do you mean, of course you think independently. What brought this on?” Max sat up straighter, letting his legs stretch out on in front of him.

She sighed, resting on the edge of his bed, facing away from both of them. “I just -- I never seem to have my own opinion. I always have to side with one of you, and I never realized . . .” Pausing to stare at her hands, she turned them over, clenching and unclenching her fists. “I was so different then.”

Michael pulled out the chair from the desk in Max’s room and swung himself so he straddled the backrest. “When ?”

“Before. As Vilandra, my past self.”

Max sat forward this time. “You remember our world? You remember being her?”

She nodded, biting her lip.

After the silence stretched on for a few minutes, Michael spoke up. “Well? What do you remember? And how did you?”

“I dreamt it. And I know it’s real, I can feel it. It’s like suddenly all these things that were just out of my grasp have finally become attainable. I remember growing up, vaguely, with the two of you. Michael, you and I weren’t engaged until we were much older. I was supposed to marry Khivar, but I didn’t like him. I was queen then, too. But our mother wanted Max -- Ky -- to be king, and I was supposed to be this Guardian, a protector for the planet. So I abdicated to Ky, even though he didn’t want the throne either. He’d run off from home in order to get away from our mother, searching for something he couldn’t find on Antar. He found Andraya.” She looked up, over her shoulder at the two of them. “I remember Tomás. I loved him. I wasn’t sure I could even do that, but I really loved him, I can remember what it felt like. We were together for awhile, but then the war came to Antar and Mother arranged for my marriage with Rath. She knew it would keep him on the planet, to protect it instead of rushing off to Clya and its princess.” Her eyes were bright, unseeing of the world before her. “But it didn’t help. We all died anyway. There was barely any time after Andraya’s death for us to prepare for the attack.”

“How did Andraya die?” Max asked, elbows resting on his legs. “How did Tess fit in to all that? And the skins. I thought you said you’d betrayed us for Khivar.”

She was already shaking her head before he finished. “No, I never betrayed you. I could never. But I sent Tomás away with your children, against your orders. That’s why they thought I’d betrayed you. They thought I’d known about the attack in advance. Mother thought that; she couldn’t see any other reason for me to have sent them off when I did. But Mother didn’t know about Lilie, didn’t know she was a seer. Didn’t understand that when Psyche started to die, it was because of Andraya’s death. I had no idea there would be an attack so soon, but I knew with Ky off-planet, the children would never be safe on Antar. Not with Andraya gone.”

“How come you and Liz remember all this stuff and we don’t?” Michael demanded, jabbing his finger into the top of the backrest. “It doesn’t make sense!”

Isabel shrugged, glaring down at him as she stood. “How should I know? Maybe girls are just more intuitive. Tess remembered stuff too.”

Michael barely let her finish the sentence. “Tess doesn’t count.”

She pursed her lips, then shook her head and looked down at the carpet. “I honestly don’t know, Michael.” And she didn’t, though there were several theories tossing about in her head. Did it have something to do with Serena, and her little abduction? Was something required to make the rest of them “awaken” like Liz? Something familiar, or similar to before? If so, which had triggered her memories? Alex’s death -- like Liz -- or the talk with Serena? Did it even matter anymore, now that the gates had been opened?

“What about Alex? Who do you think he was? This guy you loved?” Max asked, interrupting. His eyes held hers in place, dark and brewing. His voice was flat, showing neither doubt nor support for her conclusions.

“I know he was Tomás. I have no proof other than a hunch, but haven’t we based things off hunches of yours before? Or Liz’s? Or yours?” She answered, pointing to Michael for reference. “God, Michael, the number of times you’ve gone off and done something stupid based off of just a feeling you had or a flash. Why is this any different? There has to be a reason Crystal and her daughter brought him back to life, if we never told them about his death. Why else would they have brought him onboard too? He’s involved!”

“Have you asked him?” Michael said, looking up from where his hands had been fiddling with the fabric of the chair. “Alex. Have you asked him?”

Her silence was answer enough. Max and Michael sent each other a glance over her shoulder.

She threw her hands up in the air. “Of course I haven’t asked him! We haven’t exactly been chatty with the three of them in the past two weeks. That doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

“We’re not saying you are,” Max replied, cutting off Michael’s protest with a raise of his hand. “It’s a huge coincidence though, you have to admit. This whole thing is. What is the likelihood of us crashing on Earth, emerging from our pods outside the right city, in the right state, in the right continent, in the right hemisphere, at the exact moment our parents were going to drive by? Our parents who aren’t entirely human themselves, who were entrusted with the protection of the princess I was in love with? How much more coincidence do you think there could possibly be? Alex and Maria are also reincarnated, the lovers the two of you were involved with? That’s just---a lot to take in.”

“I didn’t say anything about Maria.”

Michael jerked his head up, half-rising from his chair. “Why couldn’t Maria be reincarnated too? It’s just as possible as Alex having been.”

“I didn’t say she couldn’t be! But I don’t remember her, so I can’t tell you!”

He glared at her a moment then snapped his head to stare off at the wall.

“Why are we even having this conversation without them?” She turned back to Max. “It’s ridiculous! We’re in the middle of nowhere -- space! -- heading toward a war and we’re back to treating them like they’re separate from us! It never worked before.”

Max rose to his feet, using his hands to straighten the wrinkles from his pants. “Isabel, we’re not ignoring them. We’ve all been really busy, and really tired. This training is taking a lot out of us, and honestly, at the end of the day, I don’t have the energy to say the things that probably need to be said. The six of us do need to sit down and discuss all this, but right now, it’s all I can do to learn this stuff so that when the time comes, I can protect my family. The people I care about. We’re about to be thrown into a world where we’re in over our heads, and we’re gonna be expected to make decisions and lead and be these people that we are not. I’m well aware of the fact that we need to stick together, and there are things we still need to work out. I’m sorry it hasn’t been addressed yet, I should’ve said something, but it’s not easy. It’s not easy for any of us to be doing this.”

Isabel nodded. “I know. I just wish--” She trailed off, eyes scanning the room, hoping it would dry the tears. Frustration with herself, with her helplessness, showing plainly on her face, in the balls of her fists. “I never thought it would be this complicated. I knew we were from another planet, but it just---I never expected any of this.”

Michael snorted. “No kidding.”

* * * * *

“Is it scary?”

Alex spun in his seat at the softly voiced question. He was in the lounge, -- empty, save for him -- wooden practice sword resting on his lap. The solitude was preferable to being coddled by Maria or Liz; though it was hard to resent them for being worried and relieved, he found that after a few weeks of cramped, close quarters with twelve other people, he needed some time to himself. He still wasn’t certain how he felt about being murdered, much less brought back to life and sent off-planet.

But he couldn’t turn away the small, brown-haired child that waited in the doorway for his answer. Sam was clutching a blanket to her chest, eyes fixed on him, her question still in the air around them.

“Is what scary?”

“Dying.” She whispered the word as if it were taboo, pressing the blanket tighter against herself. “Is it cold? I can handle anything but cold.”

His face twisted in a frown before she finished. “Sam, come here sweetie.” He moved the sword to the floor and patted his lap. She obeyed, lifting herself up with his help, and leaned back against his chest, the blanket still cuddled up under her chin. His frown softened. “Now, what are you doing worrying about a thing like that? You’re much too young. And too cute. What makes you think you’re going to need to handle dying?”

Her arms found a way to cross with the blanket between them. “I am not that young. Everyone thinks I am but I’m not.”

He tried to twist his head down to look at her face but she kept it hidden by her hair. “Well, regardless, that’s not something you need to be worrying about. You’ve got a whole shipload of people looking after you.”

She jerked her head up, startling him. “Please just tell me it’s not cold.” Wide, watery amber eyes pleaded with him, and he couldn’t look away. “Please.”

“It’s not cold,” he found himself answering. Leaning back in the chair, he brought a hand up to hers, closing over her clenched fist and the blanket beneath. “There’s water everywhere, bluer than the sky, and it turns violet in the shadows. Clearer than glass. Ripples that swirl colors I’ve never seen in an ocean. Sandy beaches, in some places mountainous with towering redwoods reaching right up to the seashore. Green and lush, every color vivid as your imagination would have it. It’s not something to fear, Sam. There’s peace, and rest.”

Her eyes slid down to his hand, swallowing hers in its grasp. Glancing back up through the curls hanging across her face, she chewed her bottom lip a moment before responding, “It sounds like home. Not the same, but beautiful, like home. Everyone says so, everyone who’s ever been there. Juron’s magical.”

He smiled, ruffling her hair with his free hand. “It sounds like it. I can’t wait to see it; we’ve only got a few weeks left. Are you excited to go home?”

Suddenly, there was fabric beneath his fingers, not the tiny hand he’d held there. He straightened in his seat, eyes boring down on the place where her hand -- a shadow -- passed through his. The breath caught in his windpipe, unable to move past a solid lump newly wedged in his throat. Underneath his palm was a slight dampness from her holding the blanket too tightly, too long.

Then he was squeezing her hand again. He gasped, wide-eyed, switching his gaze to her face. Her chin trembled, lips pressed to a thin pink frown. Red in her eyes from the tears stuck far in the corners.

Nearly inaudible, “Did it hurt when you were brought back?”

He felt the breathlessness of having the wind knocked from him, struggling to find words for a question. “Sam----I fell. I fell into the water. Sam, what. . .?”

“I’m not going home. I won’t get to see Juron again for a long time,” she paused to sniffle, tearing her hand from his and dragging the back of it across her eyes. “I won’t make it long enough.”

* * * * *

Serena rested her hip against the console, arms crossed at her chest and eyes glaring down at the man seated beside her. “Leon, this is insane. If they’re this far out---”

“They’re not. It’s just one ship, Serena.”

“Just one ship? It’s the Nikomedes.”

Josh moved up from his position in the back of the bridge, leaning over his uncle’s shoulder. “Doesn’t matter who it is, can we avoid him?”

Leon shrugged, biting the inside of his cheek. “Probably. But Antinous knows Valerian. We might get lucky, or he might recognize her signature. All depends.”

“On what?” Serena demanded.

“Luck.”

She turned her head away. “Does Liz know?”

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters,” Josh glared at the back of Leon’s head. “I’ll tell her. And my dad. They both need to be warned.”

As he was leaving, Serena called out, “Josh!” He glanced back and she stared him down. Then, quietly, she continued, “It might not be the best time to tell them. I have to talk to Liz, and soon.”

Laughing filled the background as Leon shifted his chair around to watch. Serena and Josh resumed uninterrupted.

Every muscle in his face was tensed. “How can she not know?”

“That’s what we need to find out.”

Leon reclined as far as the chair would allow, folding his hands behind his head. “Well, this should be interesting.”

Both of them pivoted toward him at once. "You're not helping!”

SURPRISE!

Update

The power was out all day and I had nothing to do but write, so here you go. Also got a head start on Chapter 28, which is good, yes?

Thank you for all your wonderful comments! I'm glad you guys liked the fight scene with Michael and Liz.

Onward!


Chapter Twenty Seven

“You must not make mistakes, Andraya. As queen, a single misstep could threaten the Alliance itself. The House of Juri is the oldest family in this system. We have ruled the Alliance since its inception more than a thousand years ago and there has been naught but peace. Take pride; trust in the wisdom of those who came before and you will not falter.” -Athanasia of the House of Juri, former High Queen of the United Planetary Alliance

------------------------------------------------------

The world blazed with color. All around her the trees reached higher than her vision could follow, their branches weaving over an expanse of soft, coral sand. Water, cerulean as it lifted and swirled upon the shore, stretched out to the setting sun on the horizon. A thin sliver of golden light spilled over across the surface, the last sign of the shrinking flame; her skin shone honey under the glow of the orange and rose streaked sky. It seemed as if all it take was to lift her arms and the winds would sweep her from her stance upon the dusty grass bordering the beach, away to the sky and the dawning of the silver moon bright overhead. Heaven, paradise, or something near it for the peace that radiated throughout her very bones.

Liz knew this place, though how was beyond her grasp. It was Home. Not Earth, not Juron, she knew, but Home.

A last ray of sun extended out toward her, brushing the tips of the waves with glimmering rose and crests of marigold. The fragrance of flowers, of a dense forest just after the rain, filled her with every breath, catching in the breeze and twirling through her hair. She could feel her hair spread out behind her like tattered wings, raised by the wind and billowing about her head in an aura of fiery red. Heavier than she was used to, and longer. There was no mirror save the ocean and though she felt strength enough to carry the world, she stayed put. Still, instinctually she knew.

She was Liz, and Andraya, and More. And she was waiting for something. Someone.

Mist had rolled in with the darkness, laying across the land like a lover creeping in after nightfall, caressing each dune, curving through the tree line, and clinging to her body as cool, slick silk. Goose bumps on her skin a stark reminder that even in this place, this perfection, tranquility was merely a seductive illusion.

A figure emerged from the shadows of the deep forest, clearing a path in the mists before they sealed up behind it as it passed. Liz watched, waiting, no sense of apprehension or fear. She was powerful, and she was safe, here.

“Liz.” The name sounded foreign to her ears, but the face that appeared in the moonlight she knew very well, and loved.

“Mom?” Her voice spoke with the words of a single lost girl in her head, one of many, one of a whole. “What are you doing here?” Because her place here was not in question; she knew, however slippery the exact reason may have been in her present state. The knowledge was there, the explanation, but she had no need to divulge it, even to herself.

“I’m here to help you, Liz.” Nancy Parker had aged in reverse. She looked no older than thirty, her hair vibrant with youth, her skin fair and smooth. Liz had never seen her so radiant.

“Help me? With what?”

“This. Everything. You’re my little girl, and I can’t help you in any other way.”

“Why would I need help?” The notion was absurd. Whether it was because she had no control or all the control, she couldn’t decide.

Nancy moved forward without disturbing the air around her. “Do you remember? They said you might be confused, here.”

“They are always unhelpful.” Liz (or whoever she was) was frowning, pressing her lips and drawing in her eyebrows, knowing she should know more about the woman before her, should know what she needs help with. It’s just -- so far away. And buried so deeply. Digging for it would take more patience than she possessed, and a better shovel than her mind alone. She angled her chin downward, staring straight at the woman -- her mother? “I remember many things, and none of them are clear. You were brought here by Them?”

A slow, hesitant smile spread across Nancy’s lips, stark against the tears in her eyes. “I exist here now. I remain until my next life. You were brought here. This is all just a dream, to you.”

“A dream?” It was a dream, and suddenly, she was Liz, and only Liz. “Mom? How--how are you here?”

Nancy smiled. “I’m here to tell you to move on. To let go. You’re going through a lot right now, all of you are, and I’m here to tell you I know you can do it. Forget Andraya, forget any expectations you have or others have for you and just do what you feel is right. I know you have it in you to do this.”

“I haven’t cried for you yet, Mom.” Even as she spoke the words, her eyes were drowning. The loss she’d fought not to feel for weeks overwhelming at the sight of the familiar, at the tangible reminder. She’d never had to wake up in the morning to having no mother, never gone in the kitchen for breakfast and had her mother’s place by the coffee pot empty. The pain was real, now.

“I know you haven’t. It’s hard, isn’t it, to remember I’m gone when you’re the one who’s left? But I will not be waiting in Roswell for you to return. When you complete your task, and come home, I will not be there.” Nancy’s own eyes felt the burn of tears, though she smiled still, “I wish I could. But I have always been your mother, and I will see you again next time ‘round.”

Liz frowned, “What? Next time?”

”I was Nancy and I was Princess Ephiny of the House of Juri. I watched over you as you lived Andraya’s life, and I will watch over you now, as you live Liz’s. And when it is time, I will bear you again as my daughter.” Eyes glazing, Nancy turned her head out toward the sea, to the night sky born from the dying day. “There is no more time for you to wonder. Lose your fear of Andraya’s actions; she was a different woman with a rough life that made her harsh in many respects. You are Liz, and you’ve been raised as an intelligent, independent and hardworking girl. You know kindness, you know reason, and you know love. Trust in the person you’ve become, not the person you were. Don’t let Max drift away from you this time, keep him close and have faith in him. The others are there to help you, allow them to do so. I know you will succeed.”

“I cheated on him, Mom. Gerin wasn’t his child, and I don’t think he’s realized that yet.” The secret she’d kept in her chest burst free, unleashing the mudslide. “I betrayed him when he needed me the most, leaving town just to get away from him. I thought it would help him accept that he was meant for Tess; all this alien stuff was going on and I had no way of knowing it was a lie. It went way above my head; she was his destiny, wasn’t she? He was drawn to her. I thought I’d be in the way. But it was a wrong, and I shouldn’t have left him. Then Future Max! What was I supposed to do? Tell him no? He frightened me. I thought--he said the world would end if I didn’t do it, and I couldn’t take the risk that he was right. It’s not my place to decide whether I put the world at risk or no, and I couldn’t ignore the warning.”

Reaching a hand, Nancy moved to wrap an arm around her daughter. Liz backed away, eyes red and wide with tears. “I did all this. If I hadn’t listened to him, none of this would’ve happened. Alex wouldn’t have died, you wouldn’t have died, the Crashdown wouldn’t have burned--”

“And the world would’ve ended. That much was real.” Nancy stepped quicker this time, catching Liz in her embrace. She spoke into the long, red hair of her daughter, “This is how things have to be. If you’d never acted on Future Max’s warnings, the course of events would not have allowed for you to awaken until too late. Keiran would’ve succeeded in his plans to destroy you before you could return because Serena would never have found you without Tess’s betrayal. Future Max was not wrong, without Tess, the world would’ve ended. Everyone would be dead, not just me. And Alex was brought back; his loss was great for a time, and he will never be the same again, but he is back. The Crashdown will be rebuilt, as will the trust between you and Max. ”

The words of a mother penetrate deeper than those that your own mind speaks, and Liz let herself fall against her mothers chest and sob.

* * * * *

Max waited until he was sure Jon had gone back to his rooms before entering the training hall--as they’d taken to calling it. The room was the largest aboard, as long as a basketball court and roomy enough for all thirteen passengers to stand comfortably apart. Every surface inside shimmered under a thin layer of transparent, metallic glass; a shield made from crystals indigenous to the planet Juron, completely incapable of being marred or broken by anything other than more jura crystal. There was red paint on the walls, sort of a cross between burgundy and blood. Andraya’s choice, Jon had explained with a shrug as they’d walked in the first day horrified at the idea of a blood red room to practice fighting. She’d overseen all aspects of the ship’s design and construction in her youth. Max couldn’t help but wonder, not for the first time, just what kind of person his--past life lover? mother of his children?--had been.

They’d ended practice early for the day, Jon asking Liz to stay behind. While thoroughly worried and curious about why, Max was also certain he didn’t want to know. None of them would be able to handle much else.

He didn’t want to think anymore about Isabel’s dreams and what she’d revealed, or about the aliens they’d left on Earth (Tess, Rath, and Lonnie came to mind), or even Liz Parker’s newfound past life. Thrilled as some part of him was (elated, determined, and smug at being right for so long), it threw his world entirely out of whack. He’d lived his life thus far with a specific paradigm of how the world worked--he, Michael, and Isabel were alone in the world, aliens among humans, and the beautiful Liz would be safe and normal without him--that now proved to be false on all counts. There were many more aliens on Earth (in Roswell!) than he’d ever imagined, and Liz Parker was one of them. She was the reason for their presence.

It was driving him mad. Who, then, and what did that make him? With no need for him to hide (there was no secret, anymore) and no need to feel alone or isolated (he wasn’t; he was one of many), a significant portion of his identity had vanished. And he was floundering. The tree was gone, but so was the world he kept on the other side of it; now he stood in an empty field with these others who were just like him and his next move was lost along with the tree. There was no more stepping out and no more shying away.

No one even looked to him for answers, for decisions. Isabel spent most of her free time (time not dedicated to training, eating, or sleeping) alone. All these memories she’d recovered had convinced her that she was dependent on him and Michael. Clung to them, and now was her chance to break from their “stifling” presence.

Was it true? He didn’t have a clue. Possibly. Probably. Hadn’t they all relied too much, leaned too heavily on each other, that acting separate from the group set them back at least five steps? One step forward, five back. Ten if two of them did something stupid at once.

Maybe he was simply pessimistic.

Regardless, he was sick of thinking circles around the subjects only to arrive right where he’d started, none the wiser and every bit as stressed.

He was going to rid himself of all excess energy, practicing so that all he had to worry about for a few hours was if he was bending his arms properly or gripping the sword right.

The mats were piled against the far wall, but Max wasn’t planning on doing any falling. In matches, he’d landed on them in contorted, painful ways yet managed to escape with minimal bruising. Whatever they were made with, it worked. No one had broken any bones despite blows that should’ve done just that.

He snatched a wooden sword from the racks on the wall and set his feet down in the center of the room, spaced a touch wider than shoulder width apart. An opponent materialized before him in his mind; tall, unidentifiable save for the smooth, pink scar running clear down the side of his neck and disappearing in the collar of his uniform. Max had no idea who the man was nor what the deep indigo insignia meant on the breast of his ivory jacket, but the figure was undeniable, clear, and currently inspiring in him the desire to beat someone.

Raising his sword up next to his face, blade horizontal, facing the enemy and both hand clasped on the hilt beside his cheekbone, he stood for a moment. Pause in his stance.

And then he lunged, swinging his arms up, down in a sharp left, slicing his imaginary foe from the base of his neck to hip. The next instant he was on the ground, face-first, no time to register the hand pushing him forward. His sword clattered where it dropped from his grip out in front of him.

He muffled the curse rising in his throat and rolled over to the stoic face of his (sort of) son.

“Don’t overextend. Makes balancing precarious and I would recommend you keep your footing in battle.” Josh greeted, green eyes twinkling.

Groaning, Max tossed his arm across his face. “I saw you go to your back in a match against Jon.”

“Different. I’m experienced; you’re not.” He offered a hand, heaving to get Max upright. “Besides, I’m lighter. Quicker to roll, quicker to get back on my feet. Alex might be able to learn to use a strategic fall or two, but you and Michael stay standing.”

“Well, I didn’t like the floor anyway.” Max said, dusting off his front. Speaking to Josh was something he wasn’t sure he could do articulately. How do you talk to a son who’s, what, twice your age? Or was he even a son at all, considering Max had no hand in conceiving or raising him. That was Zan.

Or rather, Ky. Zan was the one from New York. Genetic duplicate or not, Zan was obviously not the one Serena, Josh, and Gerin had sought. In fact, they were more hostile toward Zan than anything.

The silence lengthened, stretching out its awkward arms and legs all throughout the room. Josh reached to scratch the back of his head, knocking water droplets to the polished floor. His normally spiked blonde hair was flat, still damp from a shower, and his previously mirthful eyes avoided the younger man.

Max couldn’t suppress the urge to try anything just to connect. He forced words through his anxiety, “I was just practicing. I thought I could put some of this excess energy to good use.”

“Good plan,” Josh nodded, staring down at the wooden sword still on the floor. “If you want to keep it up, I could show you a few things. Make sure you’re getting it all right.”

The brunette smiled. “Sure. That’d be great.”

* * * * *

The Red City gleamed against the backdrop of the pale blue Antarian sky. Its foundation was built at the dawn of Antarian society from the naturally red clay found deep underground. The palace too had been constructed in a time before memory, adorned with statues and friezes of scenes and gods no one remembered; but their beauty was undeniable. Kings had always worked to preserve what they could of the Old Ones, claiming their ancestry among the intricate designs and glory carved on every wall.

As the capital of Antar, Delgard sat at the head of the entire system, boasting the largest trading port and the finest dining on the planet thanks to a picky and constantly shifting upper class of politicians. Though decimated by the Great War and its continuing battles, much of the city had been rebuilt under Khivar using funding from the Empire. “Blood money,” it was whispered in the streets by those with more than a little bravery. Civilians in support of the Alliance or its queen (and often they were not the same side) with the means to do so had left the long ago; those without muddled through.

Larek was starting to find, however, that the majority of Antarians hardly noticed when the coup took place. So long as there was brehn in their bellies and drink in their mouths, they didn’t need to. Alliance or Empire, life continued and that was that.

He gazed out across the cityscape from his balcony in the Queen Mother’s smaller, hillside palace that overlooked the entire plain upon which Delgard was situated. The people would take heed soon enough, he reasoned with bitterness in his throat. They would notice when the Empire forced ritual divisions in society, forced and imposed strict roles that could not be broken. And they would react, when Khivar’s laws were passed through a paid-off Parliment, when the sole religion unique to Antar was banned.

The Granilith. Larek snorted, raising a chalice of sweetened whey to his lips. A God in material form, believed by the followers of the Father, the Temenites, to be a bastardized version of their faith. As the son of an Antarian women (and a man of Anhalt), Larek understood better than the rest of the Alliance the reality behind the Granilith. Not a god, but a force. Not a denial of other deities, but a respect of power in physical form.

That was how it started out, at least. Power corrupts, and it had thoroughly corroded the minds and hearts of the men who lead the Granilion, the establishment at the head of the Granilith’s worship. Taken to extremes, the trend in cities planet-wide had been to forsake mention of the Goddesses and to praise only the power of the Granilith. A sentient being, it had become to the Granilion’s followers. Khivar and his revolution for the Empire had only exacerbated matters. He’d landed on Antarian soil and declared it heresy to speak of any deity but the Father -- Teme, he was called when given a name. Few sacred Yrre -- men of the Granilion, sworn always to protect and honor the tradition of respect -- had bothered protesting the notion of a deified Granilith or raised fact to people’s faces and minds. Embracing a lie, they fought to keep the Granilith holy and, above all, divine. And so twisted it had all become, over time and under Imperial rule.

Shortly even that would change. A law being pushed through Parliment now would forbid worship of the so-labeled “false idol”. Larek could only feel relief at the knowledge that the Granilith was safe off-world; in Khivar’s hands, it’d be destroyed publicly.

As if Khivar wasn’t fool enough, he had, as of last night, declared Imperial law valid in Antarian territories; the Empire imposed a rigid paradigm of rituals defining who a person was, what stage of life they were to be in, what their careers were to be, and what actions they could take in their everyday lives. Such simple activities controlled by the roles determined arbitrarily by Temenite leaders holding the rituals.

“I know you think me weak, Larek,” Daere spoke from the doorway to the balcony, a slow, tepid smile on her face.

He loosened his grip on the chalice, but didn’t drop it, startled by her sudden and unceremonious entrance. “Ah, Your Highness. Forgive me, I didn’t know you would be visiting me this night.”

Her smile spread. “I didn’t want you to know. There’ll be no formalities now, not between us. Just two old acquaintances, mm?”

“Yes, of course.”

“You must understand, Larek. The Empire is not so horrible as that woman would’ve had everyone believe. Yes, they commit crimes, but there is order in their territories. There is law. And obedience. There has been no internal bloodshed within its borders, the people swearing fealty to the Emperor are content in their peace. It was the Alliance that fractured,” she explained, staring out beyond the city to the vast reaches of the azure landscape, cast in the dying light of day. Her fingers twirled the oversized, golden ring on her right hand. “My husband worked for peace on this planet, and I will maintain it. My son fell in love; it blinded him. Our world was safe and secured here, far from the central galaxies and their politics. Only under his rule -- only with his lover on the High throne and her armies using our nation as stronghold -- did the people of Antar suffer. I will not see that again.”

“I respect your devotion to the security of your people, Daere.” Gazing at the swirling gold liquid in his cup, he felt his lips smile but the sentiment was lacking.

“You disagree with me.”

He knew better than to trust in their privacy, and so remained silent, switching his eyes to follow the trail of priests carrying their glowing douphmir lights up the hill at nightfall. A tradition long since archaic. Adhered to nevertheless. “I’m afraid, Your Highness, that their method of order would be what we of the Alliance term genocide.”

“Harsh words from a member of the Council. Who was it that ordered the pacification of Mi’ichai?”

Whirling to the side to pin his eyes elsewhere, Larek pressed his teeth into the insides of his cheek. “Highness, I have done many regrettable things, one of the greatest being Mi’ichai. But I maintain that any measure of peace you draw from the Empire is fleeting and not without stipulations.”

“I see the representative is displeased with the progress we’ve made toward securing a lasting armistice.”

Larek and Daere alike drew quick breaths at the appearance of Khivar through the doorway.

The Queen Mother dipped her head lightly, recovering her wits, “Zan Khivar, welcome. I was not expecting you.”

“No, and I had no intention of formally announcing my visit. We must’ve had the same thought, Daere, to speak to the ambassador privately.” Khivar stepped forward and took the chalice from Larek’s hands, taking a sip and constantly watching Larek with his pale, nearly violet eyes. “I had hoped to come to an appropriate arrangement, Larek Varesch.”

“An arrangement? Of what sort?”

“I could have you executed for treason. A member of the Alliance Council caught spying on an Imperial world. You are fooling no one with your talks of diplomacy and treaties. There is no consensus within the Council and no High Queen to unite them. There has been no cease-fire, and as we speak now, an Alliance fighter was spotted approaching the Yetain system. The Valerian, I believe, rumored to be carrying the rebel queen herself,” he enunciated each word, the syllables harsh in the back of his throat, “back from the dead.”

Larek felt the chill on the wind break through his shirt to the skin of his back. “What do you want of me?”

“I have a task for you, ambassador that you are. There is a necklace -- a stone, really, that we’re interested in attaining. I have reason to believe it is now in the hands of the Royal Four. Or rather, Royal Three,” Khivar chuckled at the correction, tossing a glance at Daere’s stoic expression. “I don’t trust you to retrieve it, however. You are to lure Rath and Vilandra back to the planet with tales of my cruelty and recent slaughters. They will be unable to resist.”

“There have been no slaughters,” Larek said, fearing the response. None that he knew of.

“By the time they get here, there will have been. You are no fool; there will be riots at the news of the ratification of Imperial law. I must do as is expected, and put down any rebellions of the sort.” His grin leered at the two, begging opposition and triumphant at receiving none. “I will not lose what I have fought so hard to gain.”

Resisting the tug to brandish his sword from his belt, Larek planted his feet and spread indifference upon his face. “Even if I called to Rath and Vilandra, their return wouldn’t guarantee the stone be brought with them. Kynyr may keep it to himself, or pass it along to Andraya. Why do this?”

“That is none of your concern. You are the errand boy, not the architect.” Khivar tilted the chalice end up, swallowing the rest of the whey and tossing an empty cup back to Larek. “Just send out the call when I tell you. Warn them in any way and your life is forfeit.”

_______________________________________


Authoress' Note: Also, feedback is lovely.

So this chapter is dedicated to Alien_Friend and Natalie36 for being so awesome . Thanks guys!

It's a bit of a new thing here, so bear with me. Next chapter will be up shortly, seeing as it's already thoroughly in the works.

Let me know what you think, pretty please! *sadpuppyface*

Chapter Twenty Eight

The blaring alarm was cut off by a pillow, violently smacked across the top of the coffee table. Kyle lifted his head, glanced at the glow of the digits, and groaned. Yesterday had been the last day of school, and he’d forgotten to turn off his alarm. Six o’clock in the morning was a poor time to start summer vacation.

Rolling off the edge of the couch, he stared at the carpet, laying on his belly. He should’ve forced himself to do push-ups if he intended to be in shape for football next fall. Mustering energy to care about football was the trick.

He couldn’t muster the courage to sleep in his own bed anymore, and that alone spoke wonders for his state of mind. Buddhism for Dummies sat open and crinkled at the spine on the table next to his clock, right where he’d left it the night before. Not even Buddha could help with the heebie-jeebies at thinking of the Bitch ever sleeping in his bed. Tess had contaminated the space, and he refused to set foot in there. “Bad vibes,” he’d called it, and his father had nearly choked on his popcorn on their weekly movie night.

He was starting to sound like Maria, but seriously, that room creeped him out. Alex’s writhing body on the floor.

Shaking his head, Kyle pushed himself up off the carpet and raised his arms behind his head to stretch. He was awake, and not likely to sleep after those thoughts.

Stumbling over to the refrigerator still in the stages of waking up, he tore it open and bend half over to shuffle through the rows of mostly-used-but-not-quite-gone bottles. After a moment, he spotted the milk carton in the back corner, a date printed on the top that had already passed three days ago. He groaned again and straightened.

“Dad! We’ve got no milk!” he shouted in a way completely unique to teenage boys when they want something from a parent and don’t feel like walking the distance to ask in a civilized tone.

He got no response from down the hall where his father should’ve been sleeping. It was too early for the former sheriff to be up and about, but if Kyle had to suffer through the morning hours, so did his dad. Yawning massively, he walked down the hallway and pushed on the door to his father’s room, flipping on the overhead light. “Up and at ‘em, Dad.”

Jim’s head was pressed into a stack of papers and photographs on his desk, his arms curled around as a pillow and his legs stretched as far out as they would go from his chair. A heavy snoring filled the room, reminding Kyle of a TV show he’d seen where the filmmakers had gone into a cave with hibernating bears.

“Aw man, dad,” Kyle ran a hand through his hair -- it needed a trim, he noted absently when the ends of the strands brushed the back of his neck. Leaning over his father’s shoulder’s and patting him on the back, he watched Jim jerk and startle his way upright. Kyle took a step back and rest his hands on his boxer-clad hips.

“Dad,” he started before Jim was fully aware of his presence. “What are you doing? I thought you were trying to get a job, not stay up all night looking at crime scene photos. They’re not paying you anymore, and someone has to take care of the bills!”

“Kyle, hold on a minute,” Jim raised one hand and rubbed his eyes with the other, blinking rapidly against the glaring light on the ceiling. “What time is it? And what are you doing up? It’s summertime.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” He snatched a paper from the desk, waving it in Jim’s face. “What is this, Dad? It’s Hanson’s job to take care of,” he glanced down at what was in his hands, catching a glimpse of the writing, “a bank robbery. You’re not the sheriff anymore, and he’s the one getting paid to figure this out, not you.”

Jim spun his chair around, standing up in his loose wife beater and boxers that matched his son’s. “Damnit, Kyle! That’s not what this is about! I am gonna get paid for this, Hanson’s got no time to deal with it while he’s investigating the fire. Besides, this isn’t a normal bank robbery.”

That feeling telling him he didn’t want to hear anymore -- one he was becoming quite familiar with, lately -- crept up his neck. Slowly, hating himself for his curiosity and his worry, he asked, “What’s not normal about a bank robbery?”

The look on his dad’s face was enough to know it traced back, somehow, as always, to the aliens. “Kyle--”

“What, Dad? What did they do now?”

Jim was shaking his head. “It’s not what they did. Why do you have such animosity for them? Max, Michael, and Isabel haven’t done anything wrong, and in case you’re forgetting, Liz is now one of them. They’re not the enemy, Kyle. Tess is. And she’s the one I think is responsible for this robbery.”

“If she were smart, she’d be long gone by now.” He didn’t want to think she might’ve been hanging around town the past few weeks; that she might’ve messed with his head more than she already had.

“It’s hard to be long gone without funds. Even she’s got to have money or she’ll have an easily traceable trail when the mindwarps wear off and money is suddenly not there.” He sat back down, reaching over to find something in the piles on the desk. Scanning a photograph quickly to make sure it was the right one, he handed it over to Kyle. “See there? The vault’s been opened and cleaned out, the cameras were running the whole time, and nothing was caught on film. The alarms on the vault was triggered at 4:01 AM. Look at the time stamp on the photo. There’s nothing and no one at the scene, and that’s when it was opened. It’ s not possible; the police are baffled and they’ve tested the camera’s film. It hasn’t been altered or messed with. Somehow, this was done without the camera even seeing it. No one noticed at all until the bankers got in the next morning and the vault was standing wide open, emptied.”

Kyle stared down at the photograph. “It could’ve just been a smart burglar.”

“Kyle, be realistic.” He took the photo back and set it with the others. “The vault wasn’t blown open, it wasn’t forced open, there are no fingerprints anywhere on the door, and this,” Jim tossed a zip locked bag on top of the desk from where it had been tucked away in a drawer. Inside was a single long strand of curly, blonde hair. “was found at the scene.”

His eyes rolled upward, and he slammed his fist against the wall. “I hate these aliens.”

* * * * *

She stood in a crowd of curious tourists, fretfully concerned old women, and a truckload of good ol’ boys with their tools and tank-top farmers tans, ready to begin work. Stacks of bricks were piled by the side of the road. The temperature was reaching 95 in the sunlight, hotter as the cement and asphalt absorbed, radiated back unwanted heat. Every so often an onlooker would snap a photograph, and if one more person commented on the state of her hair, she’d be forced to introduce these Roswellians to a commonplace, New Yorker method of communication.

Fists.

This was not her idea of a good time. Any other reason and she’d have been long gone; back north where at least the weather was bearable most of the time. Her damn conscience was to blame entirely; this was the last time she’d allow herself to be obligated to someone else. She supposed she wasn’t meant to interact with people at all with the way her life and relationships had gone so far. Rath and Lonnie had never welcomed her in their company, unable to comprehend how she’d lost her ability to remember their life on Antar. Zan had tolerated her presence, treating her like a lover half the time and trash the rest of it. His reaction to her (and her lack of memories) had always been varying levels of amusement.

Liz alone had treated her with genuine kindness, and Ava still couldn’t see why as her duplicate was, apparently, a murderous bitch.

Not that she could blame in Tess. She didn’t know her reasons, and she didn’t care too, but if killing was a necessity, Ava had few qualms with it. No one would hesitate to off her, she knew. Not if she was in their way. Liz and the other Roswell aliens may have been too innocent to believe it, but that was her world as she’d known it, and Ava was not about to become cornball over the issue of murder.

Everyone had their reasons.

And her reason for braving early June in the desert with bums of the small-town sort was to help Liz. The girl had disappeared -- according to what Ava’d managed to gleam from eavesdropping, Liz had left the planet with the Roswell aliens. And Zan, though she was telling herself she didn’t care. With Liz gone, and her mother dead (it was all over the local news and gossip), the Parker family was devastated and their home gone. Jeff had been released from the hospital a week ago, and had to take residence with another local family, the Evanses. The town of Roswell had united under a common cause: help the Parker family get back on their feet by rebuilding the Crashdown.

Ava threw in her participation. It wouldn’t have ended up this way if she’d tracked down Tess as per her original plan. But the other alien proved more slippery that she was prepared for, and after an unsuccessful chase across town, through multiple mindwarps, Ava had failed.

Which was just as well. Nothing she learned from Tess would change who and what she was. Avana-ri (or whoever it was they’d been before) was long dead and gone.

Good riddance.

Or it would be, if these damn dreams would stop. Sleeping in an alley of downtown Roswell was bad enough. Adding to her misery were dreams of a pampered sort; a shy, young girl being raised in a palace by the sea on a planet that prided itself on its muted coloring and misty shores. There were whispered talks that she wasn’t intended to hear but did anyway, about a cousin rampant in the sky, a powerful, glorious woman who shamed the family and could perhaps save the Alliance.

And a burning envy that would not abate even after her marriage to the Zan of Antar.

Only a fool would not grasp what the dreams where, or meant. Which was exactly why she wanted none of them.

Ignoring her desire to bash heads, she climbed up after the other volunteers and started scooping out the rubble with the shovel provided by the Roswell Sheriff’s Department and their fundraiser for the Parkers.

Karma’s reward had better be shiny and valuable.


* * * * *

Kyle parked his bike behind the UFO museum, knowing the crowds in front would be ridiculous. The fire had drawn people from all across town to pitch in repairs; It Couldn’t Have Happened to a Nicer, More Helpful Family, headlines read. He didn’t quite know about that claim, as he’d like to think he and his father were the most helpful family in Roswell (hadn’t his dad been a faithful, diligent sheriff for twenty years? And hadn’t his grandfather done the job well before that?) but the sentiment was nice.

He fully intended to help out. Promising Liz to look after her father, he’d sworn to himself he’d make up all his crimes to Liz by going above and beyond what she’d asked. Tess had mindwarped him, and forced incorrect, slanderous images in his head that he’d used to hurt Liz. Nothing he could do would erase that, but he’d damn well try.

All in all, the sun was shining, school was out of the summer, and though the alien chaos still hung low over his head, he was in a good mood. No more Max Evans. And even if Tess had robbed the bank, it was no longer his concern. He had a definite goal and a task to accomplish, and he was going to enjoy not looking over his shoulder for evil alien killers, skins, or FBI agents.

It was the sight of a petite blonde -- streaked through with violet, pink, and black -- amid the charred remains of wood, plastic and brick from the restaurant that jolted his happy thoughts back to the reality of his life. She stood silhouetted against the blackened flying saucer that used to dazzle with lights and the name of the cafe, now sticking up on its side. Her clothes were the same ones she’d been wearing on his driveway weeks past, and he could tell just looking they hadn’t been washed since. Where had she been living? On the streets? Probably.

He didn’t care. As long as she stayed out of his way and didn’t mess with his dad, he didn’t care. He wasn’t about to forgive himself for the things he’d said and done to Liz, and forgiving the girl responsible was out of the question (though he acknowledged that while Ava was not, in fact, Tess, she had her genetics and her powers, and that may as well have made them one and the same). That part of his life was over, and he had no business even glancing her way.

Except he couldn’t stop glancing at her. Placing his name on a list of volunteers, he found his eyes drifting back to the girl bent over, one hand holding a shovel, the other sifting through loose bricks to pull out what was left of a ballerina figurine. (It had sat on Liz’s bookcase in her room -- just a trinket, Kyle remembered. Now one of few things recovered. He ignored the ball in his throat, resting just under his Adam’s Apple. It had been more than ten years since he’d cried last, and he wasn’t about to start over something so stupid.)

And later, after he’d been assigned to search and recovery, he dug up a plastic alien doll, black dappled down its length from melting in the fire. He saw the colors of her hair in his mind and couldn’t resist raising his head to track her. This time she rested her hip against the table on the sidewalk, sipping a paper dixie cup of water and glaring icicles at the young men leering at her body from nearby.

They could have her, he decided, blowing air out his nostrils and turning back to the alien doll in his hands. Would he ever truly escape the alien chaos? Probably not. He was fooling himself if he thought he’d ever go back to the way he’d been before he’d been shot and healed by an alien king.

Would Liz, Maria, and Isabel (and Max and Michael, he conceded) survive? Would they come back?

A glint of metal caught his eye beneath more bricks, and he reached down, sliding his fingers underneath and giving a brief prayer they wouldn’t get cut on something sharp. They brushed past a smooth, rounded edge, cool to the touch and small enough for him to wrap his fingers around and pull it back out. Laying at the center of his palm was a sphere that looked to be of white-gold -- silver with a yellow tinge. On one side there was a marking, and he rolled it over to see it better.

Etched in glowing ivory were two circles, one smaller and fit inside the other, surrounded by a ring of outlined triangles. It looked almost like a sun.

* * * * *

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Sorry this part has taken so long, but I have an excuse: we moved. It took forever, and was a huge, laborious process that is still underway. Moving is stressful. Ugh.

But, here is a new part!

FYI: Kynyr is pronounced “Keh-nahr”

Chapter Twenty Nine

The man was tall, towering in the room like an ancient god. Around him emanated a light, white, pure, and warm to the touch that seemed to come from within his very soul, if he had one, or his body, if he didn’t. Plants grew at a simple touch of it and a woman fertile with a look. His length of pale, crystalline hair shone brilliant white in the innocence of the glow and the Light of it all overshadowed the satisfied smirk of a predator on his lips, waiting in a tree above his prey, watching them relax and take ease, knowing all the while that no matter how fast they moved, he would always be the quicker.

The aura of white, divine in its beauty, continued to shine. Enticing, invigorating, ethereal -- it made him dangerous. A fact Gerin was well aware of. But even the knowledge of what lay beneath didn’t detract from Keiran’s allure. Redemption was promised with a calm, loving smile inside the light. He’d give in to it, had he not already learned that lesson.

“Welcome back, Gerin, Child of Three.”

“I am not welcome here.”

“Nonsense. Your father will be pleased to see you’re safe.”

“My father is long dead.”

“Hm. Yes. Well, shame he couldn’t stay that way.”

“Shame you never joined him. How are you faring now, old man?”

“Quite well. Death never suited me, boy.”

Gerin shook his head. “I don’t imagine it does.” He walked toward the center of the room, where Keiran stood facing a large holographic image of the Jurian palace. “Why did you bring me here? I’m no use to you; I will not join you.”

“We don’t need you to join us. Andraya is young, inexperienced, and sentimental. This reincarnation of hers knows you’re her son, and will rescue you out of obligation. The brat has always been responsible.” A new voice entered the room, and Gerin angled his head back to face it. Leaning back on his ankles was an older man, human, and balding from the forehead back. A yellow jacket the color of mustard seed hung loosely on his frame. He popped a tic-tac before speaking again, “She’ll come, and we’ll destroy any hope of the Alliance reconfiguring around the kazra’ia.”

“Need I even ask how you can kill your own daughter?” Gerin asked, ignoring the other man and narrowing in on Keiran. “You’ve already done it once.”

“I’d rather not, but the girl has a history of rebellion. If I thought she’d ever obey commands, I’d be only too happy to keep her around, hellish fiend that she is. Made an excellent General.” Keiran clasped his hands together and turned away from the holograph. “But the time has come that she is worth more to me dead.”

Grandson met his grandfather’s cool gray eyes, violet in their hue and dark in their soul. The striking beauty of Light from within called again to Gerin, and he looked past its beauty, its innocence, to the sounds of destruction ringing in Keiran’s mind. Gerin closed his eyes.

“If she means so little to you, why force an easily influenced princess to bring Andraya into existence? Why go to those lengths, if in the end you only need her to die? You knew what Andraya’d be and you raped Ephiny anyway---”

Keiran interrupted, nonchalant and radiating power. “I raped no one. Ephiny was willing. You make assumptions about a relationship you know nothing about. In that way you are much unlike your mother. She knew better.”

“You didn’t rape the princess?” The balding man raised an eyebrow. “She was that stupidly naive as to think you gave a damn?” He tossed another tic-tac in his mouth, crunching loudly.

The image of the palace caught the corner of his eye and Keiran turned his head back to it, eyelids lowered. “Ephiny was no fool.”

“She let you fuck ‘er, knowing you were against the Alliance? Knowing you were campaigning for the Empire even back then?” The thin shoulders of the man shook as he laughed. “Foolish bitch if I ever heard of one.”

Keiran kept his gaze forward, extending an arm behind him. Blinding light filled his palm, setting the bald man’s skin ablaze in a florescent glow. Vines of a plant reached from around Keiran’s wrist, bright green and growing exponentially, wrapping itself around the man’s neck and tightening, twisting, rubbing his flesh raw with its leathery surface and miniscule, thorny leaves. Tic-tacs scattered across the floor as his hands clawed in the thick vines, fingernails scraping yellowish lines in the sides and getting the plant’s skin caught underneath as his fingers scratched and ripped. A rough cry stretched its way out of his throat, grating and harsh as his face melted to a beard and darker skin. The features -- eyes, nose, mouth, ears -- shifted and melded to an amalgamation of a human head. All the while it inflated, turning red then violet even as the tones in the flesh changed. Sounds had quieted and his eyes were bulging, rolling, swirling back in his head.

Keiran’s voice was apologetic. “You failed. Elizabeth Parker left Earth along with her precious lover and Avana was left behind. My daughter is on her way to her throne. Khivar will not want you back on Antar, and I have no use for you. Learn your place in your next life, or I will have to teach you again.”

And the shape shifter crumbled to the ground, an animated doll in a child’s hands, dropping to the floor in a heap when the child finds another.

Gerin tilted his head down.

“Your mother will come, rest assured. And I will be waiting.”

* * * * *

Andraya held her hands behind her back, standing straight and as tall as her ten-year-old frame could manage. She listed to the right side, risking no weight on her left leg that had only been broken for a week and still throbbed constantly, getting her in trouble every time she limped. The bone had been nearly shattered in training, and pieced back together within moments by a physician. Training had continued as usual the next day, as always. Today she’d gotten a break; Father requested her presence in his War Chamber this afternoon. It was an honor; she’d never been allowed inside before.

The room was lit by nouphmir candles, pale gold casting shadows in every crevice of the wall. A stone round table hogged most of the room, spread across with star charts and notices from other Generals. Keiran bent over a fat, dusty book, trailing a finger down the page and ignoring the occupants of the room. She stood against the back wall, unobtrusive as she’d been instructed. Observation was her objective, not interaction.

Total, there were three people present excluding herself. Two guards and a man from one of the lesser planets in the Imperial System. The man’s four knees rested on the ground, his legs tangled in on themselves as his arms were brought up behind his head, held in place by the guards. They watched Keiran, waiting for his orders or dismissal. No one seemed in a hurry to do much of anything so long as Keiran stayed absorbed in his reading.

But he eventually switched his glare to them. With a wave of his hand, a side door opened across from Andraya and she leaned forward on her tiptoes to see. Another guard walked in, a bundle of gold spheres in his hands. He set them down on the table, then another guard appeared, an ironsmith’s bowl cradled in his arms. He too set it on the table, and they left together.

“You disappoint me.” Keiran began, circling the table. He came to rest beside the new items, examining one of the spheres, then the bowl. With a flick of his finger, the bowl vibrated quietly, and Andraya knew he’d turned it on. “Giving in to Alliance bribes. How much did they offer that you’d sell out your own people, your Emperor?”

“Thirty thousand irums.” The man gazed at the floor, ears drooping and flushed with blue on his cheeks. There was hardly sound to his voice.

“Thirty thousand irums.” Keiran placed a hand on the gold spheres, four of them, and met the eyes of the kneeling man. “I have here forty thousand. Pure. For your treason, I have decided to give you what you wanted.” And he turned, picking up each sphere one at a time and placing in the quivering bowl.

The man pressed his eyes closed, the force of it wrinkling his entire face. Andraya felt her stomach fall deep in her legs, something unfamiliar and aching eating at the place her heart was said to reside. Hatred was in her mind for his giving in to greed. The pain in her leg renewed and she blinked back tears at its ferocity, knowing there was nothing she could do.

“The Alliance gave you thirty, and I shall give you more, in my generosity.” Keiran lifted the bowl, and nodded to the guards. They moved instantly, jerking back the man’s head, prying open his mouth and forcing his protests back to the ground. He was tired, and muscles weak. He sat on the floor, knees pressed deep into the stone, head angled back almost flat against his neck, mouth wide open. Vulnerable.

Keiran made his way over, passing by Andraya and lowering the bowl so she could see what it held. The spheres had melted to a fine, creamy gold pool of liquid metal. The ache inside her screamed, a feeling she didn’t like. There was a weight in her belly, heavy and unmovable like a corpse. She shifted her balance to the left, pressing her injured leg to the floor, the pain shooting up into her abdomen from the break and radiating to every limb. She wished she was training instead.

Her father moved to stand before the bound man, towering above and shining in his own light like a beacon of hope and strength, a familiar star when lost in space. The man’s mouth was open below him, the breathing quick and shallow, difficult at an angle. Keiran tipped the bowl, gently, carefully allowing only a thin stream of the gold to fall to the waiting mouth.

The man gagged, racking his body; the guards tightened their grip. His teeth fought their hands, clinched in the flesh of their fingers, hacking and tearing to clamp together against the liquid invading his throat. The guards pushed their hands deeper in his mouth, holding his cheeks and immobilizing his jaw, watching distantly as his eyes turned to puddles of blue, the bursting of blood vessels.

A keening sound left his throat around the constant pouring of gold. Keiran smiled tolerantly; Andraya put the sound in a box to store at the back of her mind.

The bowl was emptied and the man collapsed on the floor, dead, gold spilling from his mouth in ever slowing rivulets as the metal cooled and solidified.

She met her father’s eyes and knew better than to betray him.

* * * * *

Not even a rocket scientist could figure out the rows of glowing dots and lines that made up the computer on the bridge of the Valerian. Liz thought she’d go crossed-eyed at the blinking and the twinkling of little purple and red specks. She’d found herself alone on the bridge, happily so, though she knew a confrontation -- a meeting -- with the others was inevitable. It was needed; she just wasn’t ready quite yet.

She reached a hand toward the panel before a biting snake of a voice hit her from behind, “What in the Seven Hells do you think you’re doing, girl?”

The desire to leap weakened at her insistence, and she turned around with the mantra in her head: Take your time. You are not getting caught in a place you aren’t supposed to be, so don’t act guilty. Take your time.

“I’ve got a name, please use it.” she told Leon. He didn’t have to be rude; she wasn’t messing with anything. They were allowed free roam of the ship and she’d done nothing wrong. Curiosity wasn’t a crime, she reminded herself. “And I’m trying to figure out how to work this thing.”

He cut off the end of her words. “You don’t need to know, it’s my ship. And I’ll call you what I please, Andy.”

Something in her stirred; at the name or the offense, she wasn’t sure.

“It’s my ship; it belonged to Andraya. As you just acknowledged, I’m what’s left of her.” said Liz, indignant.

Leon ignored her, taking his seat at the helm of the ship and resting his feet up on the desktop. He pulled a small, handheld computer screen from on top of the main panel and focused on whatever it said, humming as loud as he pleased to a tune Liz vaguely recognized.

She continued her examination of the bridge, standing forward on tiptoes to finger the holographic picture in the middle of the room. It sat on top of a large pedestal topped with another consul she couldn’t read or make much sense of. The hologram expanded to the shape of a sphere, reminding her of a 3D star chart, lines and red curves thrown in among the stars to represent--courses? Where they were going? Or were they other ships within range of the Valerian’s ability to scan?

Her fingers brushed through the planets and stars, their image reflecting on her palm.

“Where are we going?” she asked, straightening up and looking to the top of the hologram. On the ceiling was a circle of bright purple light, and a gap between the ceiling itself and the highest star on the hologram.

“Juron. The same place we’ve been going to for weeks.” Leon said. He didn’t look up from his portable screen.

“How much farther is it? And how can you tell?” said Liz, still tilted back to see. Was the purple light what allowed the hologram to exist? she wondered. She knew on Earth scientists had been trying to make these things work for years, with no success. They’d always needed fog in order for the image to appear, like the beam of light from a flashlight needs particles or dust in the air to make it visible. But Liz could find no fog or dusty air around the image.

After a moment with no answer to her question, she glanced his way. “Leon?”

He’d looked up and was glaring at her, his long, dark hair hanging down the sides of his face. “Did you come here just to get in my way?”

“Yes. Answer my questions.” she said. Her attention diverted back to the swirling, glowing stars on the hologram.

“It didn’t take you long to get back into the swing of bossing people around.” he said, rising from the chair. Walking across the room and hanging over her shoulder, he traced one of the many white lines, trailing all the way down to a single dot of light: a planet. “This is us. We’ll be there in about another week, and I know because this screen here” he pointed to a black rectangle on the consul filled with continuously scrolling gold script, “tells me so.”

“So how does this hologram work?”

He pressed several spots on the consul and the image zoomed out, showing off the whirling galaxies and the expanse of a section of the universe. “The particles in this specific pattern of air are charged -- much like the technology that we used to use in our guns before EM shields. The charge allows them to attract and hold a type of light -- anbar. Humans haven’t found it yet.”

“If you used it in your guns, is it dangerous? And EM shields, are those the electromagnetic pulse things Serena told us about?” she asked.

He shook his head, voice scornful, “The charge itself isn’t what made the guns work. They carried a current across the charge that acted as the weapon part of the guns. And most civilized planets have EM shields. They’re what prevent us from using those guns anymore in warfare on the surface world. Out in space is another story. No one will set off an EMP weapon in space; that would disable anyone and everyone off-planet, even those who used it. We’d all be crippled. Space is a vacuum, and a weapon like that would affect the entirety of it. EMP wouldn’t disable the ships themselves, but our navigational equipment and weaponry would be useless. We’re not even sure quite the extent to which things would be affected. It’s possible the life support systems would be shut down as well.”

“It’d be a pretty powerful weapon, then. What keeps people from using it? Sacrificing themselves in the process, obviously, but that sort of thing happens all the time, right? At least it does on Earth.”

Snorting, he pat her on the back and turned back to his chair. “Have humans set off your nukes yet?”

“No.” she said, facing him. “That doesn’t mean they won’t.”

“No, it doesn’t. It’d be a mighty stupid thing to do though.” He was picking up the portable screen again, propping his legs up and setting it down on them to read.

With his attention once again focused elsewhere, she smiled. He didn’t have to answer her questions so easily. “Thank you.” she said, not expecting a response.

And not getting one either. Leon was engrossed in his work. (Or was it porn? His concentration on that screen was uncanny. Liz had a friend in middle school with an older brother who -- as she was always complaining -- used the computer to look at porn. The thought grossed her out, but was that what brothers did? Boys were familiar to her; brothers were a whole new species.)

“I’ve never had a brother before.” she added aloud.

He didn’t twitch, his mouth moving almost independently, “I’ve never had a sister reincarnated before. Never wanted one either.”

The dig was blatant in his tone. She frowned, speaking, “Are you ever nice?”

He stared at her from the corners of his eyes. “Are you ever going to stop asking me questions?” he asked.

Liz nodded, then paused. “Eventually,” she said.

“Then, eventually.” And back to his reading.

She walked over to one of the other chairs, spinning it around to face Leon and seating herself. Elbows resting on her knees, she bundled her hands and placed her chin down on them, staring straight in Leon’s direction. “What was she like?” she asked once settled.

“Who?”

“Andraya.”

“Annoying and endlessly curious.” He looked up and met her eyes pointedly before continuing. “She died, you know.”

“You died, you know.” She cocked her head at him, eyes burning and lips thinned to a pink line. “Wonder why.”

Shrugging, he looked back down at the screen. “I don’t; I know exactly why. Got on the wrong end of a pointy sword.”

“Not a good habit to fall into,” she said.

This time he jerked his head up, rolling it back on his neck to gaze at the ceiling. “Which is why you won’t ever see me being noble and heroic,” he said, bringing his glare down to her. The screen had fallen backwards onto his lap. “Don’t you have some very important skills to master before we land? Or some drama to resolve with your laddie-love?”

Liz sat up from her hunched over pose, eyebrows drawn in to a point on her brow. “What, you honestly care?”

“I honestly don’t. I want you off my bridge.”

She rolled her eyes. “All right. But I’ll be back because I still have questions.”

“Oh goody. I’ll be sure to be absent.”

“Am I really that bothersome?”

“Yes.” Once again, he didn’t look up. “But you’re my sister reincarnated, so I suppose that’s your job.”

* * * * *

He found himself brooding a lot nowadays. It wasn’t his style, but nevertheless that’s where he was, day after day. Perhaps it was death that did it, the knowledge that the world was no longer the way he’d always believed. He’d gone to church every Sunday as a child, read his Bible and said his prayers before bed. The good went to Heaven, the bad to hell. Death was permanent, and no one came back.

When he’d first met Maria and her mother, he’d come home to hear his mom say they were going to hell, and he’d cried. Nine years old, and he know only that Mrs. Deluca was a sinner. Over the years, he’d learned to accept that Amy Deluca and her daughter saw the world differently, and that was okay. He didn’t think a loving God would be able to hate or reject the Delucas. Even Michael Guerin hadn’t been able to. But as a child he’d been scared for them. Scared for himself if he did something wrong.

The revelation of aliens had thrown yet another angle into his beliefs, and he pushed it aside, knowing that if God existed, he’d be able to create more than one planet, and more than one people.

But then he died. And though he’d found himself in a heaven of sorts, the world was a different, and he was changed.

Alex threw his legs over the arms of the couch and reclined. No one else was in the lounge. He’d found that after training, most people sought refuge in their private rooms, away from the eternal tension and uncertain politeness permeating the group. So he took the lounge, because his room was small and a bit too private for his comfort. It was a nice reminder to have someone walk in every so often. A reminder that he was alive, after all.

Which was a morbid thought, he told himself. Then again, he was back from the dead and training to kill people in a war. Both went against his view of the world.

And he was back to where he’d started, in a mild sense of depression. Where did he go from here? What was his purpose in this mess? Hadn’t he done enough? Hadn’t Andraya? He felt stalled, stuck in a spaceship doing nothing but practicing and thinking and moping. Whatever was going to happen, he wanted it to happen and having the wait be over. Waiting was the worst. He didn’t lack the patience, he lacked the sanity to bear the uncertainty of being in the middle of nothing and something. Knowing what was ahead and being unable to do more than hope he was prepared.

“Alex?”

He knew who it was before she spoke, feeling her presence entering the room though she was quiet about it.

Looking up, he smiled with half his mouth. “Hey, Isabel.”

“Can we talk?” she asked. Her head was held high, one arm resting on the wall and the other down at her side. The tremor in her voice betrayed her.

He sat up. Patting the seat beside him, he nodded. “If we were in a relationship, that phrase would’ve given me the chills.”

There was a pause before she spoke, “Aren’t we?”

“I don’t know. Are we?”

She faced him, eye to eye, putting her hands flat on her lap. “I thought we were. After prom.”

“I had hoped so.” he said.

“Then, we are. I-I care about you, Alex. I know I’m not good at showing it to you, but you’re the only guy in my life outside my family. I just-I always thought we had to be alone. I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you, and for Grant. The only excuse I can give is that I’m afraid, I’m always afraid. You were scaring me because you really cared, and I never wanted a guy who cared. I wanted a guy who would come and go. Who would let me have my space and my privacy and let me do my own thing and not care because it didn’t matter to him. Because I never thought I could share my life. That wasn’t a possibility growing up. Now I see it is, and I’m sorry. I wish I’d learned sooner.”

“Isabel--”

“Don’t just be nice to me, treat me the way I deserve. Please. I don’t want you to worship me, I want you to love me.” With that she went silent, and waited. Her chin was strong and high, eyes demurely downward.

“I never worshipped you. I wanted to be your friend, your boyfriend. I wanted you to let me in and I’d have given anything for you to. You’re beautiful, and you seemed so perfect and together. But you never smiled happily, and you never laughed unless it was at someone. Never just for the sake of laughing, or because you were happy. I wanted to make you. I thought it was like a fairy tale, the geek and the popular beauty. I’d seen enough movies with Maria and Liz, I knew how it was supposed to go. You’d treat me like crap, but I’d be persistent and sincere, and you’d give in. You’d open up to me when you wouldn’t to anyone else. If I just proved myself, you’d trust me.” He reached a hand to smooth her hair behind her ear. “I do love you, Isabel.”

She blinked her eyes rapidly, turning her head to the side. “I came in here to tell you something. I’ve started remembering things, and I thought I should tell you. Max and Michael are too scared, or too angry, or something, to talk to Liz and Maria, but I wanted to tell you. I missed talking to you.”

“What is it?”

“I think you were reincarnated too. I think you were a friend, or crew mate, of Andraya’s. His name was Tomás--”

“I know.”

He cut her off and there was silence after his words. She snapped her eyes to his, glaring, blue on blue.

“What?” she whispered.

“I know. I remember. I was Tomás, once. A long time ago. As you were Vi.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?!”

He stood, facing the question he’d asked himself a hundred times. “I don’t know. I died. And I found a world where beauty existed in every glance, peace in every breath. I thought it was Heaven. But I wasn’t me, I was--I was him. I was Thomas, Thom, Tomás, Alex, Josef, I was all the men I’ve ever been all at once and I knew each of them. They’re shades now, but they were solid then and I knew so much more than I’m capable of comprehending.”

“Heaven is real?” she asked, confused and worried and trying to image what he was seeing as he stared across at the wall.

“No. It’s not Heaven. It has many names: Naduralin, Zenithal, Samt, Moksha. It’s a resting place and you fall. You stay for a time and then you fall, and you live.” He was mumbling, eyes unfocused but direct in their gaze. “I came back and I remembered Tomás. I remembered the world between and Their voices.”

She rose to her feet, putting a hand on his arm and tugging lightly. “Alex?” As he continued to speak, his words became more and more jumbled.

“She spoke to me, She told me who I am, what I am, why. The Cousins exist for the end that never ends, for the purposes their Mother gave them. They live in all times, and are always the same. Chaotics are always changing, and never do. The Dead are always living, and the Living are always dying. There’s a song in my head--”

“Alex!” she shouted at him, placing a hand on either side of his face. Shaking him as hard as she dared, and harder as he didn’t respond. “Alex!”

His body jerked, and his eyes fell on her face, narrowing. “Isabel?”

“Alex! What happened? What was that?!” she asked, eyes wide and fingers gripping the sides of his head. She let go as he sat heavily on the couch.

“I don’t know.” His forehead crinkled. “I remember being Tomás. I know I’m his reincarnation.”

“What was all that you were saying?”

“I don’t know.” he said, looking up at her. “What did I say?”

“I hope we’re not interrupting.” Liz said, standing in the doorway. Behind her was Max, and then Maria and Michael.

Isabel stared at Alex a moment longer, then shook her head and smiled over at them. “No. We were just talking, but we all need to talk, so come in.”

“Are all of us capable of talking civilly?” Maria asked, arms folded and glare aimed at Michael.

“I don’t know, are all of us capable of talking rationally?” Michael said pointedly.

“You have to be able to talk intelligently to do that, and since you obviously can’t--” Maria got cut off as Liz held up her hands, whistling loudly.

“All right. Michael and Maria aren’t allowed to sit next to each other.” Liz pointed Maria to the couch next to Alex and Isabel, then led Michael over to a chair next to the couch. Alex and Isabel sat between the two. “We’re not going to do this. We’re going to be rational, and civil, and intelligent, and we’re all capable of it. The petty arguments have to go.”

“You’re one to talk, Liz. When was the last time you talked to Max? Or better yet, apologized to any of us for getting us in this mess?” Michael asked, pushing out of his assigned seat and pacing.

“Michael!” Maria shouted. “This isn’t Liz’s fault! And nobody asked you to come along, that was of your own free will, so shut it!”

“Michael, that was uncalled for.” Max said, arms folded from his stance in the corner of the group’s scattering around the room. “This isn’t Liz’s fault and you know it.”

“Sure, defend Liz. It’s what you’re good at, King Max.”

“You know what Michael?--”

“It’s not as if the three of you have made much of an effort to talk to us.” Alex and Maria started at the same time, but Alex overrode her. “It’s been back to just the three of you this whole trip, and we’re not even allowed to have dinner with the three of you because you’ll all shut up the moment one of us humans walks in the room.”

“That’s not fair either, Alex. We’ve all been stressed and tired, don’t act as if any of you three made an effort to talk.” Isabel said, turning to face him, seated beside her.

“All of you shut up.” Liz said, her low tone biting. “This is stupid. We’re all tired, and sick to death of being cooped up in this little ship. We’re all terrified, whether we’ll admit it or not, because we’re going into the unknown, to fight a battle, and act as warriors when we’re teenagers at most. But we’ve acted like children long enough. This isn’t a game, it isn’t Roswell where we’ve got our houses and our parents and our friends to fall back on. We’re it. This is real.”

Max met her gaze across the short distance and smiled. “We have to work together, and we have to trust each other. We can do this, but we have to be ready.”

Isabel sank back into the couch, glancing sideways at Alex. “So what do we do?” she asked, quietly. “When we get to Juron, what do we do?”

Lowering her eyes from the ceiling, Liz stepped further into the group’s circle. “First we have to accept this. We are not them. We are not Kynyr, Andraya, Vilandra, Rath,” she glanced at Alex, “nor Tomás. We are kids from Roswell. Max and Isabel Evans, Michael Guerin, Alex Whitman, Liz Parker, and Maria Deluca. We’ve tricked and evaded the local sheriff and the FBI, we’ve broken Max out of a high security imprisonment, we’ve defeated a colony of Skins; we’ve done great things for our age. Impressive things. This is all just one more.

“We’re going to go to Juron, listen to what is going on, observe, and work cohesively. We’re going to trust each other, and no one else. Not fully. We’re not going to keep secrets, we’re not going to make decisions on our own. We’re going to look after each other. Whatever’s happened in the past is over, and we’re here now, for better or for worse. We’re not destined or programed or meant to love anyone but who we chose, who we want to love. And I, Liz Parker, smallest of small town girls, chose to love all of you.” She faced Max, looking him in the eye, feeling a connection that had been dormant for months come alive. A piece of the world she’d visited in her dreams, the paradise, came to mind and she felt the warmth of the setting sun on her skin. “I chose to love Max Evans, of Roswell, New Mexico. I chose to forgive him, and ask to be forgiven in return.”

"I love you too, Liz." Max whispered, "And I forgive you."

Michael twisted abruptly from where he’d stopped his pacing, staring down at Maria. “I’m sorry, Maria. I don’t think you should be here, but I said it wrong. Liz is right; we’re getting nowhere at each other’s throats. I shouldn’t have been just an asshole to you yesterday when you came to talk. That doesn’t mean I agree with your decision to come. That was stupid.” He saw the retort on her lips and jumped back in, softer, “But I understand why.”

“Thank you, Michael,” she said, ignoring the slight misting in her eyes.

He cocked his head, “You’re not going to apologize?”

She smiled, “I’m sorry, Michael. I shouldn’t have yelled, and I should’ve been more understanding that you had my best interests in mind.”

He nodded, and sat down in his original seat.

“Man,” Alex said, “now all we’re missing is Oprah.”

As we well know
Our end is very near
And so I ask you
If all we’ve got is just this little while
Here and now
Everyone of us reconcile . . .

In whatever time we have
For as long as we are living
We can face whatever comes
If we face it now as one

If there’s silence in the sky
In a world without a future
We will swear to be together
In whatever time we have . . .