Ontarian Chronicles 2: Operation Hydra

by Cyndi Friberg

  “Where are they taking her?” Krysta watched the transport until it flew out of sight. If she looked at Trey right now, she’d either cry, or scream; she’d promised herself to amaze him with her calm, sensible reactions to even the most provocative situations.

  “The City of Tears.”

  Her jaw dropped and her determination to be civil flew off with the transport. “That’s a military complex. Why are they taking Saebin to a military complex? She needs medical attention.”

  “You’re shouting again.”

  “This is asinine! Vee won’t let me see Belle. You won’t let me see Saebin. And Drakkin thinks my frustration is childish. What do you expect me to do? How am I supposed to react when --”

  “Perhaps I can help you understand.”

  The clear female voice spoke Earthish without a hint of Ontarian accent. Krysta turned to face the speaker and her heart lodged squarely in her throat. Tears blurred her vision and then the woman came sharply into focus.

  Dressed in a turquoise pantsuit that perfectly matched her extraordinary eyes -- Belle’s eyes -- the woman’s rich brown hair had been swept away from her lovely face and styled into a soft cascade of curls.

  Krysta looked at Trey, panicked. “How do I --”

  “Just call me Charlotte for now, or Aunt Charlotte.”

  Trey’s arm wrapped around her waist and Krysta gladly leaned into his embrace. She hadn’t realized how badly she was shaking, until he supported her. “Aunt Charlotte, I’m honored to meet you.”

  “Honored? I prefer to earn a person’s respect. May Ontariese make you welcome. I’m thrilled to finally meet you. Let’s find somewhere where we can talk.”

  “I need to finish the post-trip inspections on the Gale,” Trey protested.

  Charlotte chuckled and looped her arm through Krysta’s. “I don’t see the problem, brother dear, you’re not invited.”

  The High Queen’s guards escorted the two women to a private lounge on the top level of the space station. The transparent ceiling offered a spectacular view of Frontine, the premiere city on Ontariese. Sharp angles and soaring spires interacted in a sort of organized clutter Krysta found endearing. At least from a distance, the city appeared clean and welcoming.

  One of the guards brought mugs filled with blish. Krysta gazed out across Frontine’s skyline and sipped the fragrant beverage. The Ontarian sky gradually faded from rich violet to lavender at the height of its arch. Pink clouds drifted about directly above her, but a crimson horizon foretold the coming storm.

  “I suppose I should have waited until you settled in, but I’m not patient by nature.” Charlotte’s voice drew Krysta from the view. “You’re absolutely beautiful. So like the image in my dreams, it’s hard not to feel I’m still dreaming.”

  Krysta smiled. Now there was a sensation to which she could relate. “My whole life has seemed like a dream since I met Trey.” Charlotte had chosen to sit, but Krysta remained by the windows, sharing her gaze between the beautiful cityscape and the High Queen.

  Charlotte gave a little laugh. “Aune men can have that effect on a woman.” She paused, her expression growing serious. “How are you adjusting to everything? It’s been over ten years now, but I still remember how overwhelmed I felt when I first arrived on Ontariese. Have you been treated well?”

  The concern was so unfounded Krysta chuckled. Trey and his crew had tripped over themselves trying to please her. She wasn’t sure if they were anxious to make her feel comfortable or if they were trying to distract her from the area of the ship Vee had commandeered. “I’ve been extended every courtesy.”

  “I understand there have been some complications with Belle. Is she still in stasis?”

  Tapping her index finger against the silvery mug, Krysta debated what to say. “Vee has taken her into seclusion. He’s not allowing anyone contact with her.”

  Charlotte studied Krysta, but she couldn’t begin to guess at the queen’s thoughts. “Does this upset you?”

  “It did at first. But he assured me he’ll allow me access to her as soon as she is strong enough to... deal with it.”

  “Allow you to access her? Why is it Vee’s place to make this allowance? You are Belle’s twin. Why has Vee --”

  “Vee’s only interest is protecting Belle,” she quietly interrupted. “If I didn’t honestly believe that, Aunt Charlotte, I’d be screaming to high heaven. I’m the feisty one.”

  “I’ll defer to your judgment for the time being.” Charlotte smiled. “I look forward to knowing you better.”

  The High Queen fiddled with her mug until Krysta felt compelled to ask, “Is something wrong?”

  The intensity of Charlotte’s luminous turquoise eyes captured Krysta. Goosebumps rose on her arms and she couldn’t move. She knows! Krysta gulped. Charlotte knew she was hiding something. She knew and she chose not to use the eminent power at her disposal to force the information from Krysta. Guilt fluttered through her belly, making Krysta antsy. Charlotte was High Queen; she had the right --

  No, Belle had to come first. It was almost misleading. Vee and Drakkin emanated power, silently announcing the authority they possessed, while Charlotte’s nonchalant façade allowed her to attack more stealthily.

  “The circumstances of your life were explained to me,” Charlotte began. “I’d never intentionally cause you harm. You’re my niece. I’ve spent the last ten years searching for you. I hope you’ll learn to trust me, Krysta. It’s important that you do.”

  “Trust is hard for me.”

  “Undoubtedly. But you’re the only link I have to Krystabel.” She glanced away. “I know it’s selfish to mention this now, but after you’ve had time to adjust, to make sense of all this, I would appreciate the opportunity to scan your memories.”

  To do so would force Krysta to experience it all again, at least to some extent. But Krysta had questions of her own. Things that no longer made sense. She nodded. “I’ll allow it, but in exchange I want to know everything you know about my mother. Why are you so certain she’s still alive? Do you have any idea where she is? How do we get her back?”

  Charlotte rose and crossed to Krysta. Laying her hands lightly on her niece’s shoulders, she said, “You have some pieces of the puzzle and I have others. I’m hoping if we put them all together we can finally answer those questions. Let me know when you’re ready and I’ll come to you.”

  * * * * *

  Trey suspected her first order of business after returning from her tour of the Conservatory would be to ascertain the whereabouts and condition of the other refugees, so he began to gather information. Using the Warlord’s personal access code, Trey established a comlink with Lyrik.

  “Did you miss me?” Lyrik teased, his image filling the vidscreen in the guest bungalow. He lounged in a chair, his long legs spread out before him, crossed at the ankle. The tankard he cradled between his large hands contained Bilarrian ale, no doubt, as it was the warlord’s favorite beverage.

  “I was just checking to see if you got my ship back in one piece,” Trey returned.

  “The Tempest isn’t your ship.” Lyrik’s green eyes flashed possessively.

  “Not yet.” Trey grinned.

  “Father has other plans for you.”

  “The overlord has plans for me? This can’t be good.”

  Lyrik laughed and paused for a drink of frothy ale. “You wouldn’t think so, would you? But you should consider his latest scheme. It actually makes sense to me.”

  “You agree with something your father has concocted? This is miraculous. What does Overlord Cyrus have in store for me?”

  Setting the tankard aside, Lyrik scooted nearer his vidscreen, then grinned. “You established the link. What did you want from me?”

  Trey crossed his arms over his chest. “You... stinking tease. I wanted an update on the refugees, but this is obviously --”

  “High Queen Aune has assigned an emissary to the refugees. They’re being housed at six hotels in the heart of Frontine.
By tomorrow they should each have access codes. The emissary can probably forward them to Krysta.”

  Lyrik’s bright green eyes swirled with amusement, compounding Trey’s annoyance. “What does Cyrus have planned?”

  “We lost Hav Detrik on his last mission,” Lyrik said casually.

  Lord Detrik had been director of Covert Operations for longer than Trey could remember. It was a prestigious, highly sought after position. “And there are at least twenty seasoned warlords qualified to take his place. Why would the overlord consider me?”

  “Because you don’t think like a warlord. You’re unpredictable, intuitive and,” he snorted, “he likes you.”

  “Are you serious about this?” All playfulness had left the conversation. “Does he intend to offer me the position?”

  “The official summons arrives tomorrow. I’m not supposed to warn you, of course. He wants to judge your reaction to the unexpected nature of the offer, but hell, I’ve never been good at keeping secrets.”

  Trey stroked his chin, his mind racing through all the possibilities. “Remember, act surprised.” Lyric chuckled and terminated the link.

  Female voices drew Trey from his thoughts a short time later. He walked out onto the stoop clasping his hands behind his back. Three identical bungalows had been arranged in a neat row, but at present, he and Krysta were the only guests.

  Krysta strolled at Charlotte’s side. Despite the difference in their coloring, there was a distinct similarity in their appearance. Each rounded chin had a soft indentation; the angle of their cheekbones was the same; both mouths curved with the same lush fullness; even their eyes, though completely different in color, were exactly the same shape.

  Trey’s gaze dropped to Charlotte’s gently rounded belly and his insides clenched. Would he have the privilege of watching his child grow within Krysta?

  “The Conservatory is amazing,” Krysta said to no one in particular. “It reminds me of the vidfiles I saw of ancient Rome. All sweeping galleries and grand pillars. This entire valley is incredibly beautiful. What is that called?” She motioned to the gently flowing stream directly behind the bungalows.

  “Mystic Brook,” Charlotte supplied.

  “What else,” Trey grumbled.

  Krysta shot him a warning glance. “Do you and Master Tal live at the Conservatory?”

  “We have rooms there. We also have a private residence.”

  “Are you a Master-level Mage?” Krysta drank in the information, fascinated by everything.

  “No. It takes twenty cycles to complete the full program and that is when the Mystic is training fulltime. I’m High Queen, Krysta, my responsibilities have to come first. I told Vee he had five years to teach me the essentials.”

  Krysta laughed. “I’m sure he was pleased by that.”

  “He’s been remarkably accommodating, all things considered.”

  “All things considered?”

  “I have three children -- soon to be four -- a husband, and a demanding job. Vee has had to make all sorts of allowances.” Charlotte’s gaze shifted to Trey and she said, “I look forward to our next visit. We’ll have you over for dinner. You can even bring Trey.”

  Trey offered a tight smile. “Why, thank you, Your Majesty.”

  Charlotte waved and left the lovers alone in the purple twilight.

  “Why are you so grumpy?” Krysta asked.

  “I don’t mean to be. She just took you away from me before we even got out of the spaceport.”

  “Well, I’m back now, so stop scowling.” He smiled and Krysta joined him on the stoop.

  “Is Vee still hiding?”

  “He spoke with me briefly, but I’m more confused than ever.” She gazed up at the sky. Both moons were visible at dawn and dusk. The day moon loomed to her right, twice the size of the dead night moon on her left.

  “What did he say?” He pulled her around to face him. “Does Charlotte know about the baby?”

  Krysta shook her head. “I know with one sweep of my mind she could find out, but --”

  “Charlotte would never do that to you. After the things Dez dar Joon did to her, she would never invade your mind like that.”

  “Well, Vee greeted Charlotte, but asked to speak with me alone. He told me he and Belle have decided to keep her in stasis as long as possible. They’re hoping that by decreasing her energy level it will minimize the power of the child. Sort of like what Mom did by splitting us into twins. If the baby has a less potent source of Mystic energy from which to draw... I don’t know. He thinks it might help.”

  Tracing the high curve of her cheek with his thumb, he pushed his fingers into her hair. “Did he let you see her?”

  “I was with Charlotte. But he said if I search for Belle on the metaphysical plane she might be able to respond for a moment or two.”

  He pulled her against him, sifting the soft strands of her hair through his fingers. “Do you want to go inside or is here okay?”

  “Here. Just hold on to me. Sometimes I get shaky.”

  “My pleasure.”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  The charred remains of the Center surrounded Krysta, but she was not afraid. Tal had explained that the metaphysical plane appeared to each Mystic differently, often as an image they found familiar and comforting.

  Well, Krysta was definitely comforted knowing the Center had been reduced to rubble before they left Earth. They had won the battle, no doubt about it. But the outcome of the war had yet to be determined. Tal also explained that as her skill grew, she would be able to control the visualizations, to mold the images into whatever she wanted or needed at the time. She suspected that the burnt-out ruins of Operation Hydra would serve her well for some time to come.

  In a few short hours aboard the Gale, Krysta had learned more about her abilities than in the twenty-three years that had gone before. Of course, trying to hone a skill was different than trying to accept a genetic abnormality. Taking a deep breath and exhaling it slowly, she repeated the words that had become her mantra, “You have no power over me.”

  Sending out a seeker pulse -- another Mystic term she had learned from Tal -- Krysta searched for Belle’s signal. A cacophony of sound responded and Krysta gasped, pulling back, decreasing the intensity of the pulse. Overlapping thoughts, laughter, emotions swirled around her in a dizzying mix with no order and little meaning.

  She’d never been able to reach this many before, or at least she’d never known how to access the ability. She focused, filtered all the others out, until only Belle remained. Weak and distant, but Belle.

  “I’m so tired.”

  Belle’s sweet clear voice eased Krysta’s troubled heart. Though the words spoke of exhaustion, peace and hope expanded within Krysta.

  “Oh, Belle, it’s so good to hear your voice. What can I do to help? Can I pass you energy?”

  “No,” Belle said firmly. “I must be kept weak. He grows stronger with each passing moment.”

  “The baby? You carry a son?”

  “Yes. He is so... watchful... so aware.”

  “But hardly a week has passed. How can you sense him so strongly? Is he dangerous? Is this wise?”

  Belle’s signal flared, burning through Krysta painfully.

  “He is my son!” She shot the words at Krysta with metaphysical force. “He is Vee’s son, too. Nothing and no one will be allowed to harm our child.”

  “I understand.”

  Deep within Krysta something stirred, an elemental understanding.

  No matter the cost, you must protect the child. He is my only chance. Her mother’s words echoed through her mind.

  What child? Krysta had asked. I don’t understand.

  You will.

  And she did.

  “I will guard your child with my life.” She sent the vow to Belle with all the sincerity in her soul. Relief, and perhaps the cold edge of fear, rippled back to her from Belle. They said nothing for a moment, just enjoyed the peaceful communion of their connec
tion. Then Belle sank back into the void. As Belle receded, Krysta heard her say, “His name is Seth.”

  * * * * *

  Tears slipped out from under Krysta’s eyelashes, but her expression was calm, peaceful. Her lashes, now spiked with tears, fluttered and then rose. Trey smiled into her languid purple gaze.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” She sighed, snuggling against him. “It was really good to talk to Belle.”

  “Then why are you crying?”

  “Because sometimes in the midst of all my bluster she gets lost.”

  “Belle?”

  Krysta nodded, her lips trembled. “Why didn’t he take me? I could have --”

  He gently laid his fingers across her lips, stemming her words. “We can’t change the past. We can only protect the future.”

  A violent shiver wracked her body and she looped her arms around his neck. “We have to protect the future. It’s our duty... at least it’s mine.”

  He chuckled and raised her chin until she looked at him. “I thought I was the hero. Surely, protecting the future is our duty.”

  She kissed him, a slow, deep, needful kiss. “How did I ever survive without you?”

  “I don’t know, but you need never try again.” She smiled and tugged his face down toward hers, but Trey shook his head. “I spoke to Lyrik while you were exploring the Conservatory with Charlotte.”

  Her brow furrowed and she shifted restlessly. “If you’re determined to talk, let’s go inside.”

  She sounded annoyed, which amused him. He was just as anxious to make love as she.

  “Well, if you’d rather talk after, that’s fine by me.”

  A touch of petulance stiffened her gait as she moved into the bungalow. “No, don’t you remember? It has to be my idea.”