by Dave Walsh
“License 57379,” a voice came from the hangar door, and Jace looked up to see a stout man, red-faced with a bald head and a long red mustache examining a projection. “The Pequod, operator Jace Krios.”
“That’s me,” Jace uncrossed his arms and held a hand up, the inspector not looking up from his forms.
“Of course it is,” he said, still not breaking his gaze. “Two crates of medical equipment.”
“Yeah, right here.” Jace patted the crate behind him gently, trying to act natural. “I have the manifest right here with the breakdown of the shipment.”
“Uh huh.”
“If you want I can open this up and—”
The inspector simply held his hand out, Jace feeling every beat of his heart in his chest and knew that sweat was beading up on his forehead. His gun was on his hip, but he knew that if things came to that it was already too late, there would be no way they’d get the Pequod out like they did on Cyngen. No tricks would get them past Andliosian security—especially not in Krigar.
“Okay,” the inspector nodded to him, turning around and walking off. “Everything here is fine.”
“Thank you,” Jace let out an audible sigh. “You have a good day now.”
The man walked off without looking back, which usually would have irritated Jace, but this time it felt like a gift from on high. Jace picked up the pry bar from on top of the first crate and jammed it into the crack, heaving with his weight down and hearing the nails slip through the wood. With one last heft the lid popped off and Jace tossed it aside. He pulled the top bag of syringes wrapped in plastic up and dropped it next to him, repeating it a few times until O’Neil and Loren popped their heads out. They straightened themselves out without a word while Jace moved on to the next one, repeating the process for Katrijn and Trella.
“Well, that was awful,” Katrijn murmured, pulling herself out of the crate.
“That your first time being smuggled in somewhere?” Loren shot a sly smile at her. “Shit, princess, you got it easy.”
“Thanks for reminding me.” She offered a hand to Trella, who accepted it but clearly didn’t need to, hopping out and landing on her feet in one smooth motion.
“Alright, alright,” O’Neil looked worn, tired. Jace had always known him as the man who controlled things from the shadows, but their trip to Andlios had shown the human side to him and right at this moment he looked his age. O’Neil was just an old man inside a crate struggling to get out. In fact, it was kind of a funny sight, although Jace didn’t dare laugh while he grunted his way out. Hiding in a crate will do that to a man, Jace guessed. “We need to get out of here and I’m not spending any more time in a fucking crate.”
“I got you, I got you,” Loren helped O’Neil out of the crate before hopping out himself. “I’ve got the security layouts and everything all planned out. We just gotta keep our heads low while we stroll out of here. Nobody will be on the lookout for you, Old Man. Never mind the fact that you weren’t exactly the most public of figures. Most of the photos of you are pretty damned old, in fact.”
“I’m pretty damned old,” O’Neil said.
“Fair enough,” he said. “We all good here?”
“Just gotta stow these crates and lock up the ship and we can be on our way,” Jace said, worried about the Pequod first and foremost, everything else after. It was all he had left, after all.
The familiarity of being back in Krigar felt surreal to Jace, the streets alien to him but felt like something from a fever dream or a past life. Things hadn’t changed much in the last few cycles since Jace had been on Andlios, but there was an ominous feeling in the air that he couldn’t quite place his finger on. Jace wasn’t sure if it was just in his head or if the people looked more miserable or more afraid, but it was clear that something was different. Giant banners of Cronus Freeman hung from the buildings, him looking smug and regal, the signs proclaiming the celebration of Emperor Cronus Freeman’s birthday. He had forgotten what it was like to be on one of the core planets and how there was always a mass of humanity leading their lives in Krigar, the largest city on Andlios. The miserable look on their faces was offset by the banners strung up on the street lights celebrating Cronus Freeman’s birthday.
Celebrating the emperor’s birthday like this while he was still alive with a weeklong celebration felt odd and excessive, even for Cronus’s standards. After the death of Jonah Freeman, they only had a day of remembrance, not a full week. These people cared more about Jonah Freeman than they ever did Cronus Freeman, but that didn’t matter when Cronus and his goons were forcing everyone to celebrate him. It felt like an elaborate joke, like a waking nightmare.
“This feels all wrong,” Jace said aloud.
“You haven’t been here for a while, have you?” O’Neil turned to him, looking strange without his signature glasses on his face.
“No,” he shook his head in disbelief. “No, I haven’t. It was bad before, but this? This just feels all wrong.”
“I can't believe this, either,” Katrijn said, lagging behind the group, trying to take it all in. “I called this place home once before.”
“You’ll call it home again before we are through,” O’Neil added.
“At least we hope,” Loren said, an oddly grave tone in his voice.
Katrijn
Krigar was her home for most of her life, right up until she found herself faced with the hard decision of staying and possibly being killed by her brother or fleeing. Her uncle had told her that he’d support whichever decision she made, but once his suspicions about Cronus were mostly confirmed, he had pushed for her to leave. It all happened so quickly and her father, her family, her planet and the life she knew was stolen from her all in a matter of days.
The city had changed since then—it had changed a lot. That much was expected after being gone for so long, but she had never imagined that Krigar, her city, would feel so strange and unfamiliar to her. It wasn’t her city anymore, she had to remind herself. If their plan worked out that might change, but for now, this was just another new city for her to do her best to avoid capture. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be there, feeling a pit in her stomach at the memories she had of Krigar, of her father and her mother—even of Cronus as a child—before he was a full-blown monster like he was now. It couldn’t help but feel like suicide to be not only on Andlios but in Krigar, the heart of the Andlios Republic. This was the only way they could be close enough to Cronus and the palace to be able to come up with a surefire plan, though, plus she trusted her uncle to do the right thing when it came to her, he always had.
Loren was leading them through the streets to the place where they’d be staying. Their new hideout was in one of the more industrial areas of Krigar, near the outskirts, but he assured them it would suit their needs for the time being. Loren’s contact was late picking them up, and it felt like an ill omen for Katrijn but nobody else seemed to be too upset about it. The man who picked them up in a ground transport was an older man, thin and lean, wearing plain clothing and his face showing a lifetime of wear. Loren and the driver had a brief discussion before they all silently loaded into the small transport.
They quietly drove through Krigar, paying mind to the checkpoints and staying near the back streets that were out of the way. She still couldn’t help but feel exposed sitting in the back of just a normal, everyday transport. For some reason, she had expected something more covert, maybe even with tinted windows, not just a standard transport. The city itself was alarming to her as well. While the main streets were immaculate, the back roads were a different story, in disrepair and lacking the opulence of Cronus’s celebration. Katrijn had seen a red symbol throughout the city, mostly on the poorer streets; it was a red A with a pulseaxe serving as the cross for it.
“What is that symbol?” she asked aloud, not remembering their driver’s name so intentionally not using any sort of greeting.
“Which?” He looked out the side of the old transport, much like the one
s her father had used with the Krigans; with wheels for when it was needed, but was usually flown a few meters off the ground. There were windows lining the side with a tint to ensure that nobody could see inside and a few beaten up chairs that they had all occupied, Loren up in the front with the driver.
“That A with the ax through it.”
“Ahh, that’s Alva’s sign,” he boasted. “She’s really something, you know.”
“Alva?” Trella perked up.
“Oh yeah,” he said. “She’s special, let me tell you. I even met her once down at the old Quorthon Hall.”
“What is Quorthon Hall?” Katrijn asked.
“An old Krigan bar,” Jace interjected. “Do you really not know that? I thought this was your city?”
“I didn’t exactly get to go to old Krigan bars as a child, no,” she said sharply.
“Is she alright?” Trella asked.
“Is who alright?” The drive scratched his head.
“Alva.”
“Oh she’s better than alright, she’s been raising hell all over Krigar over the past few weeks. She’s the only one who really seems to be looking out for us folk, not like that Cronus and his goons.”
“She’s been busy,” O’Neil said.
“So she has,” Loren said.
The rest of the trip was a quiet one, them pulling into a gated off area with a small dilapidated building standing in the middle, a few dim lights on in the front. It didn’t exactly instill a lot of confidence in her. “Is this where we are staying?”
“Doesn’t look like much,” Jace agreed with her while they filed out of the transport.
“Just follow me.” Their driver led them in through the front door into what looked like a mostly abandoned warehouse. A few dim lights flickered overhead.
“This is some kind of storage facility?” Jace asked. “I guess we are really pushing that whole medical supplies thing, huh?”
“This isn’t where we are staying,” Loren shook his head, following the driver to a door near the back. He pulled it open, revealing a dark staircase. “This is where we are staying.”
They walked down the stairs, the air humid and heavy, and growing heavier the deeper they went. The walls gradually changed from concrete to rock, and they moved past anything manmade and deeper into what looked like a cave. O’Neil looked apprehensive and Trella was keeping to herself, but Katrijn could read the expression on Jace’s face and his disbelief.
“I was thinking we’d get something a little bit more posh than this, you being a princess and all, Katrijn.”
“I wasn’t expecting posh, but inhabitable,” she said.
“You both, I don’t even know what to say,” Loren shook his head. “This is leading to one of the famous Krigan strongholds at the edge of the city. Your brother had them all sealed off, but this one slipped past ‘em. Your father had this one built on top already, keeping it hidden just in case something went wrong. Something did go wrong, but he wasn’t able to use it. Now we are.”
“Are you kidding me?” Katrijn felt a sense of awe wash over her. “This is a stronghold?”
No one said anything else after the driver pushed open a metal blast door to unveil the interior of the cave; the ceiling carved out about 20 meters high and the main room had two large, wooden tables on either side. The cave branched off in four different directions that she could see with panels sticking out of the rock by each.
“Okay,” Jace broke the silence, his voice slightly echoing off of the rocks. “This is pretty incredible.”
“It really is,” Katrijn smiled, taking the whole scene in. “I can’t believe my father lived in one of these for two whole cycles.”
“So this is our home base for now,” Loren clapped his hands together, the sound bouncing off of the walls. “We better get set up.”
“I can live with this,” Jace said, turning to Katrijn with a smile on his face. “I mean, this is cool, right?”
“It’s pretty incredible,” she said.
“Alva told me all about living in one of these,” Trella was surveying the room herself. “It sounded fascinating at the time, I’m happy to be able to see one in person.”
“Aren’t we all,” O’Neil said.
Katrijn decided to wander off and check out the rest of the stronghold, marveling at what was left of the decorations and the history. These strongholds existed for hundreds of cycles, long before the Omega Destiny had ever been a flicker in someone’s imagination on Earth. It was funny to her that Earth should have technically felt like something important to her, like a part of her history, but most of the time she forgot that it was even a part of humanity’s history. This history was her roots, and Andlios was her home.
There was a commotion coming from the other room, raised voices and a feeling of panic washed over her. Katrijn jogged through the caves back into the main room only to find her uncle with his hands on his temples and Loren frantically looking through a projection on his holoscanner. “What’s going on?”
“Look, Old Man, we need to get you out of here, right now,” Loren was visibly upset.
“What’s going on?” She turned to Jace, who stood at the periphery of the room, arms folded and leaning against the wall.
“There is a bulletin out on O’Neil,” he said bluntly.
“What?” Katrijn turned to Loren and her uncle.
“Yeah,” Loren turned back to her and flashed her a fake smile. “Someone spotted him. The good news is you weren’t spotted, so none of us are in trouble, but the Old Man here? He’s got trouble.”
“I can’t stay here,” O’Neil stood up, straightening out his shirt.
“What are you talking about? I don’t even know why they’d be looking for you. You are the steward to Helgun! The former prime minister! You can travel at will, Uncle!”
“I guess this is just further proof that it was an exile, huh?” Jace said.
“Looks like it,” Loren muttered, trying his best to sift through the reports.
“I can’t stay here,” O’Neil said grimly, walking toward the door leading to the warehouse upstairs. “I can’t put this mission in danger.”
“What?” Katrijn felt her stomach drop. “No, Uncle, you can’t.”
“I’m agreeing with Katgirl on this one, Old Man,” Loren said. “We’ve got agents here, we have resources we can tap into.”
“I was spotted,” he said. “They’ll be looking for me and knowing Cronus, he’ll not rest until I’m found. He didn’t trust me when I was prime minister and had me sent away; I’m sure that me showing up uninvited and hiding out will drive him nuts. If I stay here, he’ll look until he finds me—until he finds us. If I’m on my own I’m not jeopardizing anything here.”
“Gods dammit,” Loren cursed.
“I have to,” he said. “Loren, can you arrange to have me dropped off somewhere innocuous?”
“Yeah,” there was a hint of disappointment and resignation in Loren’s voice. “They won’t know where you were or be able to trace you back here, at least.”
“Good, that’s all we need.”
“You can’t, Uncle.” Katrijn found herself feeling overwhelmed. “What about the plan?”
“I trust everyone in this room right now, Kat.” He placed his hand on her cheek. “More than that, I have faith in you. You can do this. You don’t need me, I’ll just slow you down. I’m just an old man, after all, right?”
“Don’t worry, Old Man,” Jace had a smile on his face. “We’ll find a way.”
“You take care of her, alright?” O’Neil turned to Jace, who simply gave him a nod. “All of you, take care of each other. Hopefully, this won’t be long. I’ll contact Loren when I can.”
Without further discussion, he left the room and Katrijn felt her world starting to fall apart. It had taken her cycles to find her uncle, to get to be with someone who remembered who she was and cared about her and now he was walking out the door. It was another loss to Cronus and one that she vowed no
t to let slide.
023. The Regret of Detainment
O’Neil
After only about fifteen minutes of O’Neil sitting on the patio of a tea shop in one of the more affluent districts of Krigar, Cronus’s elite guards descended upon the shop with their guns drawn and pointed at him. He greeted them with a chuckle and finished his tea while the captain of the guard informed him that the emperor would like to meet with him. Of course, it wasn’t a request as much as it was a demand, but he went along with it anyway. O’Neil knew that fighting would be a mistake, as would trying to hide anywhere else. He wanted them to have no reason to dig or search, to unearth his network of agents or any of his other secrets.
He was tossed into a dingy cell down in the bowels of the palace, where usually the worst of the worst were kept. O’Neil knew exactly where he stood at this moment and it was grim. There was a stone bench that doubled as a bed affixed to the wall, a bucket and some hay tossed in a pile against the back corner. In a world full of modern, humane jails, they chose the dungeon for him, sending him a strong message. O’Neil simply sat in the cell, reflecting, until he heard the sound of the door being unlocked, light flooding into the otherwise dark cell.
“You think of me as a monster,” Cronus stood in the cell, his red cape with gold fringe hung elegantly over his white tunic.
“I never said that.” O’Neil stayed seated, not bothering making eye contact with the emperor.
“But you think it, don’t you?”
“What I think is immaterial to this discussion, Cronus.” He folded his arms and sat back, looking up at the emperor, noting that he looked older than the last time they had met. “I do not agree with the decisions you’ve made, if that is what you are asking.”
“Of course you disagree! You are the great Prime Minister Peter O’Neil, the captain of the Omega Destiny, one of the founding fathers of the Andlios Republic! You know best, always, dearest uncle,” he sneered, clearly agitated by O’Neil’s presence. “I sent you to Helgun for a reason—to rid this world of your meddling. Yet here you are.”