by Dave Walsh
“If you actually want to know, not that great,” she said, leaning up against a railing overlooking the city below them. They were up on one of the many walkways that were connected to the transportation system that looked down over the immense city. “It all feels so foreign to me.”
“It is not easy to learn, from what I’ve heard,” Trella said, standing next to Alva. “But it is a great honor to learn the more advanced Cydonian powers. Not everyone gets to learn them.”
“What?” She turned to Trella and wrinkled her nose. “I just assumed that everyone received this kind of training.”
“Oh, no. Only the highest-ranking of Cydonians will ever learn the advanced techniques. The rest of us have the basics but don’t even have the proper augmentations installed. They are available to us, but not through official means and there is a punishment that comes with using a power that is beyond your training. Plus, it is dangerous.”
“So you can’t even do this stuff?” She was genuinely surprised at the revelation.
“No,” Trella paused briefly. “I would not be serving you otherwise. This is what my father saw me doing and he assured me that it was an important task, so I handle it with pride.”
“I thought that Ingen had changed things when the Andlios Republic was founded, though? I know things changed for the Krigans at least.”
“They did, but Cyngen is different.”
“I guess it is,” she said. “It feels older than the Republic, I know there was a lot of effort put into this, but this is an entire planet full of caverns that have been built into.”
“Cyngen was originally the work of the Cydonian outcasts from the last great war between the Krigan and the Cydonians,” Trella hesitated slightly, but turned to Alva and continued. “The Krigans referred to them as ‘the Banished’ and in fact they believed that the Earthers were originally the Banished but they were from a different planet entirely.”
“Does anyone know about this?” Alva looked on, confused. Surely such a secret would find its way out over such a long period of time. “I remember hearing about the Banished.”
“Yes and no.” Trella shrugged, a rare sign of expressiveness that Alva guessed she had picked up from being around her for so many cycles. “The Andlios Republic claims to have power here, but Trallex is the representative for the Andlios Republic here and most of the humans who work and live here are here for a reason, and they do not speak of what goes on here for their own benefit. As for the Banished, they left here long ago, although their influence is still felt to some degree. Cyngen’s history is actually quite complicated.”
“This feels incredibly reckless,” she said. “I mean, what if they find out?”
“I’m not sure it matters, Alva,” Trella continued. “As long as the Andlios Republic feels powerful, we are left to our own designs and can live our lives as we see fit.”
“That is what makes it so much different from Cydonia, huh?”
“Yes. Very much so. Cydonia will always be our home, but Cyngen is unrestricted; the only human hands involved in Cyngen are for logistics, so they hold no real power here.”
“It’s still weird to me that you don’t consider yourselves human anymore.”
“We are Cydonian,” Trella almost sounded boastful. “We are the evolution of humanity. You, my princess, are Cydonian as well now. You’ll learn to accept it before long. Our time will come.”
“That sounds ominous.” Alva immediately felt very uncomfortable around Trella.
“No, not ominous, Alva,” Trella said. “This is your destiny, it is your destiny to unite our people and usher in a new era of understanding.”
“Even if I can’t levitate a chair toward me?”
“That will come with time.”
Alva took a deep breath, allowing the cool air to fill her lungs before she let it out. She looked off to the distance at the strange compound off in the distance. She knew that it belonged to Jol’or, but it always seemed peculiar to her to see a Cydonian with such human tastes.
“I guess the future will look a lot like that,” she nodded her head toward Jol’or’s estate.
“Maybe,” Trella said. “Most likely not.”
“Well anyway.” She did her best to shake the chill that quivered down her spine. “I’m hungry, let’s go eat already.”
007. The Collector
Katrijn
Katrijn was sitting down in what looked to be an old Earth artifact of a chair with a satin cushion and made of darkly stained wood. The chair wasn’t the most comfortable chair she had ever sat in, but the room was full of strange, old-looking things that she found herself focused on studying her surroundings instead of the stiff chair. Jace stood leaning against the wall, his boot pressed up against it and his arms crossed. He was pretending he didn’t care about the wait, but Katrijn was feeling quite anxious.
“Does he always do this?” She looked up at Jace, who had his eyes closed.
“What?”
“Make you wait this long? We’ve been out here like forty-something minutes.” She crossed her own arms and felt awkward about sitting while he was standing, even if there were other chairs around.
“This is typical Jol’or, yeah,” he pursed his lips like he was holding something back. “He’s a busy guy and I don’t hold that against him, but I do hold this awful taste against him, that’s for sure.”
“This stuff all looks really old, is it?”
“Who knows, he always claims that it’s from Earth, probably from the Omega Destiny, but even then, who knows if it’s real.”
“Of course it’s real,” a voice came from outside of the room. The elegant, tall wooden doors blew open and a Cydonian unlike Katrijn had ever seen stepped into view. Their gear was rather utilitarian usually, lacking in any decor and always placing function above appearance. This one was wearing an ornate pair of boots with gold trim, a pair of leather pants with gold and silver stars lining the sides and a gold-laced tunic. His cape was leather with a decorative golden lattice along the edges and his respirator was decorated similarly. This one cared about how he looked.
“A grand entrance, as always, Jol’or,” Jace said.
“A sourpuss as always, Jace Krios,” he wagged his finger at Jace before turning to Kat. “Oh, my, I’ve lost my manners and apparently my heart is aflutter. Who, dare I ask, is this beauty that I’m beholding with my very eye?” He reached his hand out toward her, and she looked over to Jace, confused, only for him to nod back at her.
“Umm,” she laughed at the gesture, reaching her hand out only for him to hold it up to his respirator and make a hissing noise. “I’m Kat.”
“Do excuse the lack of a proper kiss, my dearest Kat,” he sounded forlorn. “These foolish suits we’ve built ourselves into don’t allow for much dexterity in the open air like this.”
“Uh, no, that’s okay.” She stood up, finding Jol’or just slightly taller than her, but he held himself in a proper posture, making him possibly shorter than he looked. “This is quite some place you have here.”
“Isn’t it?” He turned to Jace. “Quite an eye this one has here, not sure what she is doing with space debris like you, but alas.”
“Yeah, she’s something, that’s alright.” Jace didn’t seem amused, but Katrijn was finding the situation to be wildly entertaining.
“That chair you were sitting on?” She turned to look down at it while he pointed. “20th century oak with a delightful cherry stain from Michigan, I do believe.”
“Wow,” she said, nodding her head, having no clue what any of that meant. “Sounds impressive.”
“In a way,” he sounded wistful. “It’s not the greatest piece from Earth, that’s for sure, but there was only so much aboard the Omega Destiny, you know. I am hoping that we get more Earth visitors soon because I’d love to get some trade going.”
“I’m sure you don’t see many Earthers out here, huh?”
“No,” he said. “I wish we would, but there really
hasn’t been much interaction since the Fourth Fleet was scared off all those years ago.”
“Interesting.” She noted his use of the word “years” over “cycles,” which was peculiar. “I see you have an interest in Earth.”
“Pfft,” Jace scoffed. “Interest? This one is obsessed with Earth. This whole house is some pseudo-Japanese nonsense.”
“No respect,” Jol’or laughed, turning back to Katrijn and taking her hand. “These Fringers, they just live their lives without much passion. The style is a bit of an amalgamation from Earth, I suppose; I’m quite fond of the Earth culture known as Japanese, actually.”
“Go figure,” Jace was sounding annoyed. “Being concerned with survival under the iron fist of the Freeman Empire will do that to us ‘Fringers’ as you call us. We don’t have much time to bask in ancient Earth history.”
“So sensitive, this one,” Jol’or chortled. “Shall we go have some tea and get down to business so Mr. Krios here doesn’t lose his mind?”
“Huh, I swore it was Chinese. Anyway, sure,” Katrijn said. “You know, I’ve never known any Cydonians to be quite as…animated as you are?”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He led them through an ornate hallway with golden-railed staircases that led upstairs. They walked into a small room with wooden bookshelves lining the walls; old Earth, Zarr’nid, Helgean, Krigan and Cydonian books filled them to capacity. “No, often times people mistake Chinese for Japanese. The Chinese culture on Earth grew to prominence in the late twenty-first century but was foiled by their own opulence, I fear. Sometimes I fear that my people have lost their way a bit, much like the ancient Chinese did. This was always about survival, about evolution for mankind, not about creating our own race and for segregation. Somewhere along the way we’ve seemingly lost our humanity, well, that is, except for me.” He motioned to the two comfortable looking chairs that sat on one side of a large wooden desk. “Please, by all means.”
Jace waited for Katrijn to take a seat and sat down in the other chair. It was comfortable, leather covered and very well padded. She sunk right into it and felt immediately like it was cradling her. The whole journey had been incredibly disconcerting to her, but somehow that chair was doing wonders to make it feel a bit more accommodating. A part of her wondered what Jol’or looked like underneath the mask, which was not something she usually found herself doing when she met Cydonians. This one was different, though, that was for sure.
“So I have eight crates of silicon,” Jace broke through the silence while Jol’or was settling into his own chair on the other side of the desk.
“Always right down to business.” Jol’or straightened up and tugged at the bottom of his tunic. “That’s what I enjoy about you the most, Jace. That and making you uncomfortable, which seems alarmingly easy on this run.”
“You and I both know there is always some complications I have to deal with out there, Jol’or.”
“Of course, of course.” He looked over at Katrijn and tapped on his faceplate. “Would you like some tea, water, anything stronger, my dear?”
“Oh, no,” she said, taken off-guard. “I’m fine, thanks.”
“Things are fucked up out there, Jol’or,” Jace continued his line of thought. “These runs aren’t always easy. As long as Cronus Freeman is in charge we don’t know what to expect out there.”
“I agree that Cronus is an obstacle,” he said, his gaze not breaking away from Katrijn. “Nothing like when Emperor Freeman was alive, that is for sure. Now there was a man who understood the people he ruled.”
“Yeah, well,” Jace said. “This is what we’ve got to deal with, so we’ll deal with it, I guess.”
“Perhaps his reign will come to an end sooner than later?” The tone in Jol’or’s voice was peculiar, which piqued Katrijn’s interest.
“What do you mean, his reign ending sooner rather than later?” She tried to keep her tone conversational but it was difficult to hide her curiosity.
“Let’s not get into this and—”
“No, no.” Jol’or shook his head. “The lady is right, it was rude of me to assume that she knew what we both knew.”
“What we know?” Jace said. “You are a laugh riot, Jol’or. I don’t know shit.”
“Well of course.” He waved his hand toward Jace dismissively. “What I know and what Jace has heard and is pretending not to know.”
“Fair enough.”
“You see, we Cydonians have always been rather, well,” he tapped his fingers on the desk before forming a fist. “Different. Secretive, if you will. We’ve chosen our own destiny and never really related much to our relatives on Andlios. In fact, we only call it Andlios out of respect to them right now. We know the planet as Cydonia, much like this planet is Cyngen. You see, my people don’t have much of a flair for the dramatic. We use one name and use classifications of zones to partition off, but those are merely for logistic purposes, or for interacting with people of your own kind.” He motioned toward both her and Jace.
“Yeah, this much I knew about already,” she said cautiously, understanding that more was to come. She felt like she was sitting in the lair of an evil mastermind who was describing his genius plans to destroy the heroes before giving them ample time to get away, although she wasn’t so sure that Jol’or was either evil or a mastermind. Granted, he could be both.
“Anyway, yes.” Jol’or tapped his fingers together in front of his face, his arms resting on his chair and his body positioned toward Katrijn. He hadn’t broken his line of sight on her since they sat down, which was disconcerting. “There is a plan in place—quite complicated actually—that sees some sort of deposed Andliosian princess making a claim to the throne with Cydonian backing. We are hoping for a bloodless coup, but…”
“Princess?” Katrijn looked over at Jace, who kept a stern face, avoiding making eye contact. “Wait, why are you telling me this? What if I tell somebody about this plan, what if…” Katrijn was beginning to panic, wondering if they knew who she was and Jace had delivered her to Cydonians for some sick plan. Jol’or raised his hand up, motioning for her to let him finish.
“Because you are here with Jace,” he pointed toward Jace, sitting uncomfortably in the chair next to her. “His hatred for the Freemans is well known, I doubt he’d be associating with anyone willing to work with them. Of course,” he looked back at her, tapping on his mask. “I could be wrong.”
“Who is this princess, then? I thought Freeman’s daughter was…”
“Dead?” He let out a laugh, something she hadn’t expected from a Cydonian, although he was full of surprises. Her heart was still racing, the word “dead” hanging in the air. “That is what Cronus is reporting, at least.”
“What do you mean by dead?” She felt a cold feeling wash over her at the idea of her being reported as dead. That meant she wasn’t the princess they were talking about. Who else could there be?
“Katrijn Freeman was being hounded by Cronus after she reportedly assassinated her father all those many years ago and apparently Cronus’s forces were able to close in and destroy the ship carrying her just a few days ago. Justice, he’s calling it,” he said. “If anything, this just makes our plan cleaner. There were a lot of supporters of Katrijn Freeman’s claim left on Andlios, which had always bothered Cronus.”
“Then who the hell do you have?” She felt so lost, confused, but oddly free.
“My dear,” he said. “A man in my position needs to have some secrets, does he not?”
Jace
Jace had noted that Kat was quiet for the rest of the meeting, looking confused and utterly lost throughout. That was fine, though, because it let Jace finish up the work he was there to handle. Something felt off, though. She had been charming and personable up until there was talk about Andliosian princesses, which set off an alarm in his head. He ran a quick, discreet search on his holoscanner on princesses from Andlios; Alva Hedlund and Katrijn Freeman were all that came up. Alva Hedlund was long-dec
eased, so he swiped her file away, but Katrijn Freeman. Something felt off. The photograph on file might have been a bit old, but it struck him like a brick to the head; he was traveling with the daughter of Jonah Freeman. The weight of that conclusion felt crushing to him, like an unexpected high-g burn out of an atmosphere, but he tried not to let it show. Jol’or and he had shaken hands, the credits were transferred into his account and the whole affair passed like an out-of-body experience until Jace found himself on a tram with Kat, who was oddly silent, staring down at her hands.
“I can’t believe I didn’t know,” he finally broke the silence. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”
“What?” She didn’t look up at him.
“Katrijn,” he said, raising his eyebrows at her while she looked up at him. “How didn’t I notice?”
“Oh,” she looked back down at her hands and slightly nodded. “Yeah, that.”
“I don’t know if I should feel mad or just like a fool.” The anger was beginning to well up in him, but he quickly suppressed it. “I should have known, I mean, you didn’t even try to change your name. Who goes on the lam and uses a shortened version of their name? That’s just insanity.”
“I know,” she said, tears starting to well up in her eyes. “Uncle Peter kept telling me that I was letting my pride get in my way, that I’d be caught. I just didn’t want to give up who I was.”
“How did nobody find out?”
“Oh,” she said, laughing through the tears that were streaming down her cheeks. “They found out. How do you think I ended up in a life pod floating out in the expanse of the fringes alone?”
“Ah,” he said, trying to collect his thoughts. “What now?”
“What do you mean?”
“Where do we go from here?” He felt very unsure of himself, quickly correcting himself. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know,” she said staring out the window. “I just don’t know. I was supposed to make a rendezvous with one of Uncle Peter’s men out here, but that was weeks ago, so I’ve long since missed that window.”
