by Dave Walsh
O’Neil
“Local chatter’s going haywire over here, Old Man.” Loren’s smiling face was projecting out from O’Neil’s holoscanner while he sat at his desk. “There’s something interesting going down with one of the local magistrates. Cat by the name of Jol’or, calls himself the Collector. He’s plugged in but still pretty behind-the-scenes if you know what I mean. He called in a team to accompany him on some mission, tried to encode the call but you know I have my ways.”
“That’s why you work for me, Loren,” O’Neil said, relieved that he had capable field agents. “Although we have to assume that Cronus has someone planetside there capable of doing the same.”
“Already thought about that,” he said. “I’m a local to here, I know people, I know for a fact that none of the other capable locals are working for the Republic. There are a few of his agents here and there, but they aren’t that connected, that’s for sure.”
“Okay, okay,” he said. “I get it, Loren, you are good at what you do and I’m thankful to have you. But what is this chatter you are hearing all about?”
“This Jace Krios guy, he’s a runner and does some odd jobs here and there, usually a loner. He shows up to a meeting with Jol’or with some woman, which is odd for him.”
“A woman?” His interest was piqued. “Is there a description of her at all?”
“Blonde, late 20’s, I mean look,” he said, “it’s pretty close to what you told me about her, but it’s not like there is a lack of leggy blondes out there in the universe.”
“There’s a lack of them being pursued by important Cydonians, I’d say.”
“Well sure, that’s kind of the thing, right?”
“Why haven’t you pulled up security footage of them?” He leaned back in his chair, resting his hands on his stomach. “I’m sure someone with your skills…”
“Stop right there,” he tsked. “I know what you are thinking, you are thinking that ol’ Loren didn’t cover all of his bases, right? But no, I tried, it’s being blacked out. Only a few people would have access to pull something like that. Someone high up, if you know what I mean.”
“So you assume it was this Jol’or person?”
“Oh yeah, definitely.”
“So if he’s blocking security feeds and using his own private security, you think he’s making a play to grab her?”
“If you were to have me make a guess, that is what it would be, yeah. This girl must be something else to go through this much trouble…”
“This is not good.” He found himself hunched over his desk, his mind racing. “I need to know what is happening down there, Loren. I need to find out if it is her and if it is, I need a direct line to her. Things are decaying here quicker than expected; Cronus has lost his goddamn mind, or whatever there was left of it.”
“I’ll do my best, but I can’t exactly go down there and start shooting at Jol’or’s security forces.”
“I trust you’ll find a way,” he said. “Also, send me any information you have about Krios, I need to know what we are dealing with here if he has Katrijn.”
“Alright, sending you what I’ve got on him now. I guess I’ll suit up and head down there, see what I can find out.” O’Neil saw him pick up a handgun. “Wait, did you say Katrijn?”
“Gods dammit,” O’Neil muttered under his breath. He was trying to keep her identity a secret, but with Loren it wouldn’t have mattered for long anyway. “Yes, look, I was trying to keep this under wraps here.”
“So I’m looking for a princess then?” Loren let out a whistle. “So this op just got pretty serious; I thought this was just some spurned lover shit here. This makes it all different.”
“Just…don’t start shooting unless you need to, either, Loren. Be careful.”
“I’ll do my best, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Loren out.”
The display faded from view, disappearing back into the tiny box on his desk like a vacuum had sucked it up. How had things gotten so out of control in such a hurry? he wondered. Maybe he was slipping. The thought alone gave him a migraine.
009. The Gods Among Us
Trella
Trella walked slowly to her quarters with her head swimming from the night she had just had with Alva. Her whole life, there had been barriers up, and those barriers were a part of Cydonian culture. She was born on Cyngen and it was all she knew, but she was told constantly how Andlios—Cydonia in particular—was their true home and that her calling was to help to return her people to their home. Her work with Alva was supposed to be just that: work. Instead, she found herself feeling attached to Alva and wanting to not only see her succeed but also to be with her when she did succeed.
Serving Alva was a part of her programming and was her job, but somewhere along the way, things became personal. When connected to the CyNet, Trella did her best to suppress her emotions and not broadcast them, but the more Alva progressed in her training, the emptier Trella felt knowing that Alva would be leaving shortly. Before long she would be sent to Andlios for the sole purpose of disposing of the emperor on her own. It made her stomach turn to know that Alva’s destiny lay elsewhere and without Trella by her side. Those feelings were compounded by the pressure among Cydonians to suppress emotions and to move beyond the constraints of them. She felt like a failure on just about every front.
True privacy was uncommon for Cydonians, but she found herself switching off her networking while she quietly entered her quarters and sat back into a chair. She was growing feelings that she had been conditioned to be able to push out and to pretend that they simply hadn’t existed. Instead, Trella found these thoughts welcoming and warm, refusing to turn from them, but instead embrace them. Those feelings had to be hidden—at least from anyone who could sense them—meaning that while sifting through these she had to disconnect from the CyNet. The CyNet connected the Cydonians together, networking them across the entire Republic and remaining off limits to anyone outside of Cydonian culture. That meant that while she was connected, anyone could detect these feelings and at the moment she needed to work through these emotions, which meant disconnecting. She had been serving Alva since she awoke and since then had bonded to her in ways she could have never predicted.
A few months prior, they had gently suggested a new assignment for Trella, for her to move on to another project, only for Trella to decline and claim that she felt her work with Alva was not complete yet. There was some pushback, but the idea of emotional bonding never came into the equation, only an understanding of wanting to be thorough, so she stayed on. When Trallex decided that Alva’s training was complete, it would be time for Alva to return to Andlios. Once on Andlios, the plan would be in motion and she would look to find a way to gain power and hopefully change the balance of power in the Republic. Those plans didn’t include Trella.
She was taken off guard by the sound of the door whizzing open behind her. Due to the Cydonians always being connected, they felt very little need to communicate in person, making doorbells low on the priority list for a dwelling. She wasn’t connected and thus had no clue that anyone was coming, making Trallex standing in her room that much more disconcerting. Things were about to get complicated, she realized.
“Greetings, Trallex,” she said to him, motioning for him to enter.
“Your network has been shut off.” He strode in, hands clenched behind his back. “There is not an error, is there? If so, you should be hooked into a diagnostic immediately to correct it.”
“No,” she said, feeling a strange well of anxiety from inside of her. “I simply needed some time to myself is all.”
“I see.” He walked in, staring at the wall where two photographs of Trella and Alva were framed side-by-side. “I fear that you are getting too close to Princess Alva, Trella.”
“I understand,” she said. “I believe that I am just being thorough.”
“While that is understandable, my belief is that this is simply not the case.”
“I
don’t…”
“We are still human.” He held his hand up, stopping her cold. “As much as we would like to believe that we have evolved into something new, we are but the first step in an evolutionary process. We are more capable than our limited counterparts and to a degree, they fear us, but we are still like them, only augmented with technology. This means that those weaknesses that we act like we’ve left behind are still very real.”
“Yes,” she said, intent on listening and hoping he wouldn’t remove her from working with Alva completely.
“In my over 1,000 cycles I have seen many things, chief among them has been the sterility that washed over our people after cycles of opting to clone instead of traditionally reproducing. This has allowed us to create a race of people tailored to perfection, augmented with the greatest in technology and given every chance to not only succeed but also to help push humanity into the future. Right now we face a struggle.” He paused briefly, looking down at the ground. “That struggle presents itself by the way of the Andlios Republic.
“The Andlios Republic through Jonah Freeman allowed for us to be free, to operate within the system and to avoid many of the problems we face today under the reign of his son. Sadly, we are no longer able to work with the Freemans or the Andlios Republic. We have lost our home and been forced to take Cyngen—which was just a Cydonian settlement—and treat it like our new home. You need to understand how vital Princess Alva is to us, Trella. Do you understand?”
“Yes, of course.”
“You have been tending to her since the beginning, but many have feared that you have grown too close to her, that you have lost your objectivity and lost sight of the objective at hand.”
“I…” She paused, unsure of how to react. The fear crept up inside her, the idea of never seeing Alva again and being purged from her life. “I do not believe that to be the case, Trallex. I have merely done my duty and—”
“Exhibited erratic behavior,” he said. “You spend time with her beyond your duty, you disconnect yourself from the CyNet during some of these times, and sometimes when you return home. You have clearly bonded with her.” He motioned toward the photos on the wall. “Much beyond what would be healthy for someone in your position to do.”
“What does this mean?” She cut straight to the chase, wanting to know how this would impact her.
“I am pulling you from the project,” he said, matter-of-factly, as if it were cut and dry.
“I understand.” She kept an even tone, although she felt like her insides were being torn to shreds. Tears began to well up in her eyes, her automated system quickly responding by drying them out before they could drip down her cheek. “I’ve only done what I thought was right, Trallex. She is lonely and scared, I only did what I thought was best.”
“I am not saying that this is the end of your involvement with Princess Alva,” he added while turning toward the door. “But we need to do further investigation into this. Maybe if we’ve deemed it safe for you to continue, we will in the future.”
“Thank you,” she said, wanting to just collapse on the spot.
Alva
“Good,” Trallex nodded toward an exhausted Alva, who sat slumped over and breathing heavily in the chair she had just struggled to move moments before.
“See, now that’s what I’m capable of,” she said, wiping her eyes of the stinging sweat that was dripping into them. “I told you I’d get it quickly.”
“Yes.” He stared at her, his voice droning. “Well ahead of schedule. Tomorrow we can work on honing some of your other skills, but I believe you’ve gotten as good as you will get for now with moving objects.”
“I can’t wait to tell Trella about this.” She stood up, straightening out her spine and feeling a few pops. She strode past Trallex and pulled a towel from the wall, wiping off her face. “She told me that not everyone even had a chance to do this, is that right?”
“Yes,” he said, his hands gripping onto his belt. “These abilities are special, not all Cydonians are given the opportunity to train in them, although all could be capable of mastering them much as you have. Consider it a privilege to have access to these facilities and to learn these skills, Princess Alva.”
“I am very thankful.” She felt his demeanor was somehow colder than usual, although she could have just been imagining it. “Although I’m still a bit leery about what your plans for me are. I feel like I’ve done enough to earn that sort of trust, haven’t I?”
“I suppose so,” he said. “You see, your father made an impassioned plea to me. That plea was that you were his little girl and he had done so much for his people and sacrificed so much—even going as far as to hand his planet over to Ingen—but that he could not bear to lose his daughter. His people are…” He paused, his tone changing to slightly disdainful. “…Ignorant to our ways, if not prejudiced. But he was willing to look the other way for a chance for you to live a life without war.”
“So this was father’s idea?” She motioned toward her implants, doing her best to keep her mind clear, but she was starting to feel light-headed, which she was sure Trallex had noticed.
“Yes.” He strode toward her and presented her with a bottle of water, which she smiled and took from him before he stepped back. “It was not easy for him, but he made me promise him that I would keep you safe and free from scorn. So it was decided that I would take you to Cyngen and oversee things personally. Although, things may have changed since then…”
“What do you mean?”
“Cronus Freeman aims to destroy everything your father fought and bled for.” Trallex looked up at the ceiling, away from her while she drank. “Not many men had the courage your father had, Princess Alva. I am not sure I’ve ever been fond of a Krigan before, but your father went outside his comfort zone to make peace with the Cydonian people and did what he thought was best for everyone. We all did. We gave our trust to helping to build an image in Jonah Freeman.”
The sound of his full name made a chill run down her spine. “Ingen was a good man, Trallex. He was good to me.”
“He was a flawed man,” he pressed. “One of virtue, indeed, but he was full of passion and many were willing to follow him. Captain O’Neil, your father, Dyvel and myself worked behind-the-scenes to help mold and create the image of Emperor Freeman. Freeman understood his fallibility and never made a move without our advice, but slowly things fell apart. Your father’s illness weighed heavily on him.”
“Oh.” She felt an emptiness wash over her. No one ever felt the need to talk much about Tyr to her. She knew he took to drinking heavily until his liver failed and that he had refused Cydonian implants, but no one ever spoke beyond that.
“I know that you feel guilt for your father’s death,” he rasped. “But there was a choice. He felt he had abandoned you by letting everyone believe you were dead, but he truly believed you would live a better life for it.”
“I know,” she said, tears filling her eyes. “He was always such a fool. What did it matter? I could have been with him, I could have…”
“Anyway,” he cut through—Cydonians had never been known for being able to handle emotional situations with much care. “We foresaw many problems with Cronus Freeman, but Jonah refused to take action. Much like your father felt about you, Freeman felt toward his children. I hold no grudge for him loving his children, but the succession plan should have been publicly set in stone, Katrijn should have been next in line, although we were sure Cronus would attempt to murder his sister. We recommended severe action to prevent Cronus from gaining more power, but Jonah felt that he could be saved, that Cronus could still become a better person. Now we are living in the wake of his idealism.”
“Okay,” she said, trying to forget just how alone she was without her father or Ingen. “So how do I fit into all of this?”
“We need to retake the throne, Princess Alva.” His words were deliberate, rehearsed even. “We need you to return to Andlios and take the throne. By any means ne
cessary.”
Almost in an instant, all of her training made perfect sense to her and she felt sick to her stomach, but she smiled, nodded and looked back at him. “How?”
“Gain favor.” His words were once again very carefully chosen. “The people remember Tyr, they celebrate him and worship him. You were a martyr to their people. You return to Andlios—of course without revealing too much about how much we’ve modified you—then you take the throne from Cronus.”
“That won’t be easy, will it?” Her mind was turning over and over again, trying to process all of it.
“No,” he shook his head. “You will need to eliminate him.”
“Okay,” she said. Just like she feared—they expected her to kill Ingen’s son for their plan. She let out a sigh.
010. The Blade Dancer
Katrijn
Oh no,” Jol’or assured Katrijn in a patronizing tone. “We have no problem with you, Princess Katrijn. In fact, we are here for your own protection from this…space debris.” The last word was hissed out with clear disgust.
“Oh fuck off.” Jace’s grip tightened on the gun. “You just want to use her for your own bullshit.”
“Jace.” She turned to him, hoping that he was a steady hand with a gun or else things would get a lot worse before they got better. She had to make sure he didn’t do anything rash. While she wanted to trust him with the weapon, she was certain that any training he had was inadequate compared to her own. “Stay calm.”
“Yes, Jaaaaaaace,” Jol’or said. “We don’t want any blood to be spilled here, now do we? I mean, it would be your blood, considering you are far outnumbered.”
“I see four guards behind you.” Jace’s eyes scanned the hangar. “Four, yeah. I could have them cleaning the inside of that helmet of yours before they could react in time, and then what happens to the eccentric magistrate when his brains are decorations on that wall over here?”