Disclaimer: These characters
do not belong to me, but to the writers and producers of Roswell
Spoilers: After Chant Down Babylon,
changes happening where Max is successfully rescued, and Michael was the one
who broke up with Maria.
Pairings: You’ll have to wait and see!
Pronunciation Guide: Pela (Pe –lah)
Nuha (New –
ha)
Author’s notes: Queen Fadilia
Kedar: Max/Isabel’s mother
King
Alaric Kedar: Max/Isabel’s father
Andaria: Tess’ mother
Radim: Tess’ father
Kedrans: race from which
Royal Four descended
Iturians: race from which Khivar descended, and overthrew and killed
Zan and the Kedrans
Cerideans: special core ops of the Iturian army, mostly
psyonics and telepaths
Kaptar’s
Jewel: constellation in the
Antarian’s star system
Yun’s
Garment: Aurora
Borealis - Northern Lights
Saren Dari: desert plain on Antar
dashka : good
luck charm
elkarl : Iturian hand weapon
capaechea:
long haired woolly creature, with long
flanks and a large hump on its back
kii: location where
various endangered animals are kept for protection
Mount
Freiweils: location of Loyalist secret base
Tir
Lamar: sister city to Eshtari
kashkar:
slur, equivalent to witch
plascer: plasma weapons, compact, length of your hand
Chapter Sixty Six
***
Perils, and misfortunes, and want, and pain, and injury,
are more or less the certain lot of every man that cometh into the world. It behooveth thee, therefore, O child of calamity!
Early to fortify thy mind with courage and patience, that though mayest support,
with a becoming resolution, thy allotted portion of human evil.
-
Akhenaton
***
The
beginning of the new day couldn't come soon enough.
Michael
slowly and knowingly exacted the learned stances, which had come to him so
recently, since his return, in the training centre. It was early in the morning, no one had awakened yet, and he
needed a release. The precision needed
for each move and position seemed to relax his muscles rather than tense
them. As he selected a reflective
atmosphere, transmitted by the alien technology, which was able to transform
the stale musky room into a fully mirrored room. From every angle he could see the way his muscles worked,
contracted and released; this allowed him to correct himself.
Breathe.
Michael closed his eyes and pictured each move in his mind and almost
dance-like, he began moving to the inaudible beat playing through his
mind. One. Two. Strike.
He opened his eyes and he saw the image of himself reflected in the
mirrors around him. His right arm was
outstretched, with the staff like an extension of his arm, with the other
firmly glued to his side. A slow drip
of perspiration trickled down his forehead and down the bridge of his nose.
Suddenly
he heard clapping.
"Brilliant."
Michael
head snapped around to face the slight glow, which emanated from the opened
entrance at the far right corner of the training room. Standing silently, with her hands gently
folded in front of her, was Fadilia.
She seemed out of place in the dimly lit room, which held the essence of
a feral, almost primal-like atmosphere; but yet she also seemed at ease in this
place of her former regaled soldiers, who had fought for her heart, mind and
soul. "Thank you," he
breathed heavily.
Michael
dropped his staff arm and bowed slowly towards the Queen Mother.
"You
are very beautiful when you are doing the 'Stances'." Fadilia slowly approached the elevated
stage. "You remind me of...well,
you. Of course, that was when you were
Rath," she said softly. "You
were so beautiful when you performed those stances as a child."
"Really?"
Michael mopped his brow and sat down on the elevated stage, which only gave him
a slight height advantage, causing him to look down on her. "I don't remember that far back."
"Yes." Fadilia's eyes sparkled even under the low
track lighting. "You were a very energetic child; unfocused to say
the least, but somehow the stances always seemed to bring you back to the
centre of things. It was a very
beautiful thing."
Michael
smirked. It was hard even to imagine
childhood back on Antar, even with his memories back. There had been no time.
So much had been coming at him. I
guess that's why I'm here.
"Michael,
General Steren has given orders to mobilize."
Michael
frowned. "What?"
"The
Festival will be begin at dusk, tonight."
Fadilia took one more step forward, until all Michael could see were her
crystal blue eyes that seemed to make the entire room disappear for the beauty
of them.
"Why
wasn't I informed?"
"I
spoke to General Steren," she replied gently, placing a hand upon his
knee. "And told him to allow me to
speak to you."
"Why?"
Michael frowned. "Is there
something else you wanted to talk to me about?"
"I
just want you and Tess to know that I understand the intensity of everything
happening to you," she breathed, patting his knee. "And how I want you to know that I am
here for you, just as I said I would be."
Her eyes searched his for a measurement of understanding...comprehension.
Michael
lowered his eyes and wrapped his towel around his neck. "Thank you, Your Majesty..."
"Fadilia."
His eyes
rose to meet hers. "Fadilia." He exhaled slowly. "I'm grateful for that."
"But..." The elderly Antarian, whose appearance spoke
nothing of her age, smiled knowingly.
Michael
pushed away from Fadilia and stood up on the stage. He collected his tunic, which he had disrobed during his workout
when it became more intense, and hopped down from the stage alongside
Fadilia. "I just..." Michael searched for the words to express
the isolation he had lived in for so long.
Even though he had connections to people, there would always be that
wall he had built around himself to protect that part of him no one was
supposed to have access to anymore - not since his foster parents took the care
to quash that ability, inherent to any child, to open himself to love and
vulnerability. "There's so
much..." He stumbled again for the
words. Michael wished he could let her
in, but he just couldn't push through that barrier. It was like he was looking at her through a glass pane.
Then, as
if understanding his inability to open that door, Michael felt cool fingers
slip through his and her palm touch his.
He glanced over to see Fadilia looking straight ahead, as they both
strode slowly towards the exit, and he felt a calmness over him. In the silence she spoke volumes. She knew he desired to let her in and
right now that would be enough.
~ * ~
"We're
leaving in a half an hour," Michael informed Tess, who had just appeared
in the stratagem room. General Steren
had briefed him and Fadilia of their plans for that early morning. They had sent word for Tess, but she could
not be found and there was no time to dawdle.
Michael assured General Steren that he would brief Tess, and that he
should prepare the remaining troops.
The wives, mothers, and small children were slowly being transferred to
a secure cave basin; on the off chance Khivar's men ever entered the inner
sanctum of the base.
Tess
furrowed her brow and shook her head in confusion. "When was this decided?" She had disappeared within the dark, winding passages of the
mountain in an attempt to find some solace and quiet. After snapping at Michael, Tess knew that she needed some air.
"Since
we got word that a large fleet of royal ships has been spotted traversing to
and from Saren Dari.
"Do
we know why?"
Michael
shrugged; he began walking towards his quarters to change out of his workout
clothes. "Does it
matter?" He glanced down at Tess,
who seemed lost in her thoughts.
"The move on Eshtari has been planned for several days. The only question was the timing."
"It
doesn't matter?" Tess frowned;
staring up at the one person whom she had found she could depend upon when
tough times came. "Do you remember
the mission we just returned from?"
Stopping in the middle of the hallway, which slowed Michael's stride,
she confronted him on his strange behavior.
"It was a near catastrophe!"
"That's
a little melodramatic." He sighed,
not wanting to deal with Tess' sudden interest in the details. "You were never one for plans Tess, why
now?" Michael knew the more time
they spent on this discussion, which in the end would still result in the
deployment of their troops, the less time they had to prepare en route.
"That
was when we were on earth, Michael."
Things had been simpler back then; however, this confrontation with
Khivar would have lasting consequences on their people. If it didn't succeed, Antar stood no chance
of freeing itself from Khivar.
"We've got a lot more people to think about now," she hissed,
lowing her voice as a small boy and an older woman passed by.
Michael
studied the petite figure before him; her clear, blue eyes focused, and
questioning him. Tess was like the
prize in a Crackerjacks box - you just never knew what you'd get. He saw a strong, determined woman before
him; while only hours ago, she was broken and cold. Just never knew what to expect...
"Michael." Tess snapped her fingers in front of his
blank expression. "What are the
odds of us taking the palace?" she asked, wanting more than mumbled
assurances.
"60-40
odds."
Tess felt
a glimmer of hope.
"To
fail."
"What?" Tess heard her voice almost screech at the
announcement. "What do you mean,
'to fail'?" Her eyes bore into
his, urging him to tell her that she had heard him wrong.
"Look,"
he growled, unhappy at her less-than-discreet reaction. "We don't have time for your
questions."
"I
think this is a great time for them," Tess exclaimed, her eyes
widening in disbelief. How else was she
supposed to react?
Michael
grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her to the side, as several uniformed
soldiers jogged by, saluting the Queen.
"Tess, General Steren thinks this is the last chance we'll have to
take the palace." He let go of
Tess when she began to wriggle under his tight grip. "With the large contingent of soldiers out of the palace, we
have a better chance to form a stronghold outside the compound. Then we'll have the opportunity to lay siege
to the palace and hold up whatever Khivar is shipping from Saren Dari - my
guess Project Pilan."
"We
don't have the men for this!" Tess
began to pace in the empty corridor.
"They're all a few hundred feet from this base, trying to deflect
attention away from Mount Freiweils."
Her gut instinct had been to trust General Steren from the day she had
been introduced, but this made no sense.
Their defensive contingent was stretched to the max. They couldn't last even at this rate.
If
they had all Four...
"We
can't pretend Max is coming to rescue us with one of his slow, but all too brilliant
plans," Michael scoffed. "He
isn't here to make everything better."
It was as
if he had read her mind...
"God
knows what has happened to Isabel and Max..." He turned away, trying to hide the pained expression that
contorted his face every time the thought filled his head.
"Michael." She stopped her pacing and met the restless
teenager's clouded gaze. "We're
just going to weaken ourselves on both fronts." If they took men from their defensive post to strengthen their
offensive battalion, they would be practically giving the Iturians their base;
meanwhile, they would only gain an additional ten to thirty men...at the
most. It would be like throwing stones
at a giant.
"Well
prepare yourself for it, Tess," Michael stated, waving his hand across the
code pad that allowed him access to his quarters. "We may be the underdogs, but it's going to be one hell of a
fight." He rolled his shoulders
back and stared down at Tess' anxious face.
"You know this is the right thing.
We have no other choice, not when Khivar's planning his Coronation when
Pela eclipses."
"So
it is tonight?" Tess knew
the day was coming, but it seemed to arrive sooner than she imagined. The previous night had been one uneasy and
restless night. When she had awaken before
the dawn, Tess walked the corridors of Mount Freiweils to rid herself of it;
but now, it seemed to settle upon her and it all seemed to form a semblance of
logic or reason.
"Yes." Michael remembered the last New Moons
Festival he had attended. The entire
city had been alight with candles, phosphorous lanterns, hydrogen lights. It had been a spectacular sight.
Tess
nodded. She knew there was no more
delay in the inevitable. Everything
would come to a head tonight. Either
they would free Antar from Khivar's growing insanity or once again die
trying. Swallowing hard, Tess glanced
over her shoulder and steeled herself for the looming momentous event. "I'll go get ready."
Without
thinking Michael reached out and grabbed Tess by the arm. "Tess." He didn't know why he did it.
"We've got to believe good wins, right?"
Slowly
Tess turned her head, glancing up at Michael through hooded eyes. "You've been listening to Fadilia too
much," she chuckled softly; her voice was tinged with an unexplained sadness.
"Tess." Michael squeezed her arm. "It always seems to work in the
movies." He smiled half-heartedly. He couldn't even laugh at his own lame
attempt to lighten the mood.
Tess
closed her eyes and refused to allow the sense of doom that lay ahead for them
to overwhelm her yet. She shook her
head and raised her eyes to meet the dark steady gaze of her friend. Only he understood the weight that sat upon
her shoulders right at this moment.
"Never say die, right?"
Michael
smirked. "Yeah."
~~~
"Retreat
into the base." General Steren
gave the ordered through the comlink, which was his only connection to
Lieutenant Nuha of the 92nd Battalion, his own second in command, which he had
sent out in aid to Captains Kelsar and Dermot, who were slowly besieged. Nuha had led the charge against the
unsuspecting Iturian army in the Forests of Zillah.
"Sir?" A scratchy, distorted voice sounded over the
speakers within the hollowed assembly hall.
General Steren had surveyed the ongoing battle outside their mountainous
facade; it was not going well.
Decidedly so, that taking a few of the soldiers from their already
diverse group of trained and untrained Antarians, thrown together as a brigade,
would end in more deaths than he would like.
"I
said fall back." General Steren
lifted his finger from the smooth black transmission button on his
comlink. He closed his eyes.
Please
let this be the right thing to do.
~~~
"Have
we received any word from Bel Maar or Ai?" Fadilia clasped her hands as
she paced back and forth in the communications centre. The hollow, grey room was empty save two
Antarians - one, who would refuse to leave her side and the other, whom she had
requested to remain. "What about
Jakar?"
"Your
Highness, no one is responding. There
is static on either side of the moons.
The solar flares which occur before the eclipse have cut off any
communication to even our closest planetary allies," a young officer
answered.
Fadilia
glanced over her shoulder and watched as the soldier, who had been unusually
ordered to remain within the residential grounds, instead of assembling with
the other Antarians, deftly pushed and prodded the numerous technological keys
and instruments to will an answer for her.
"Private Quirinius," she said, returning her gaze upon the
empty black holoscreen. "I need
you to show me the Forests of Zillah."
"Your
Highness," a soft feminine voice urged.
"We must secure you below."
Fadilia's
gaze remained fixed upon the once empty space above the circular console, which
was now clouding with a fine mist.
"Emine, I will remain above ground." Her tone was adamant, as the shadowed outlines of trees and other
brush began to form in front of her eyes, hovering as a translucent movie over
the console. She immediately felt her heart
seize. Fadilia watched groups of men and women slaughtered before her eyes, but
that was not all she witnessed; it was the slaying of infants, children she had
watched grow up into talented and beautiful young men and women - husbands and
wives.
Her vision
blurred; she leaned her body against the console.
"Your
Majesty," Emine gasped worriedly.
Fadilia
felt the young woman's hands slide under her arms, supporting her body, as she
stumbled backwards. "I'm all
right," she whispered reassuringly, closing her eyes to the silent images
flashing before her.
"Your
Highness?" Quirinius frowned. "Should we not be evacuating the main
floor of the grounds?"
Fadilia
turned around with Emine standing watchfully by her side and gazed steadily
toward the youth. "I will not
leave the Inner Sanctum unguarded," she said determinedly. "With our troops retreating and
preparing for an assault elsewhere, there will be no one here to oversee the
fluid transition of our people to the Basin, and the long-awaited return of my
son and daughter." Spinning
around, she once again watched as her people quickly and effortlessly
disappeared into the maze of brown and green foliage.
Over the
decade, the hunted and persecuted Antarians had familiarized themselves with
the mountainous range, which they had come to call home. The Forest had been a playground for the
children born within Mount Freiweils caves; and now it had turned into a
battlefield. And as they now retreated
into its thick and lustrous walls, Fadilia could only anxiously watch, waiting
to hear someone announce that they had returned to safety.
"Show
me the corridors," she commanded, wanting a break from the mounting
anxiety, as the Iturian army gave chase to her people. "I need to know how the evacuation is
running." Because the Assembly
Hall had been designated the mobilization area for the Loyalist Army, since it
was the only room large enough to hold the entire contingent of soldiers, the
evacuation of mothers and children, elderly and disabled had been a slow
process, with the soldiers overcrowding the already flooded corridors in an
attempt to reach the Hall.
"On
screen now, Your Highness."
The
corridors were definitely crowded.
General Steren had left behind a few soldiers, dispersed throughout the
corridors to guide the masses towards the Basin. They were not exactly warranted as she and General Steren always
made it a priority to have a drill once a year, so if any unexpected attack or
invasion by Khivar's army threatened their safety, there would be an automatic
protocol to abide by.
"Your
Highness?"
"Yes,
Quirinius."
"General
Steren is sending a transmission from the Hall."
Fadilia
inhaled deeply and nodded.
"Transmit." She
silently awaited the familiar voice.
Glancing at the chronometer glowing upon the console. The large contingent of soldiers would soon
be moving on Eshtari.
"Your
Highness, we have sealed all possible entrances to the Inner
Sanctum."
Fadilia
glanced up at the terror-filled faces of her people as they filed into various
level transports positioned in different wings of the residential living
areas. The youth were ordered to use
the tunnel paths, which were easier for them to maneuver down than the elderly. Before entering into the transports and the
natural passageways to the Basin, the soldiers were positioned to check for
identification bracelets; this allowed the leaders, which she and General
Steren had appointed, to quickly identify any missing people from the
community. "Have all of our people
returned safely?" Fadilia couldn't
imagine leaving any of their men or women alone to face the harsh torture
Khivar's men would inflict on them.
There was
a brief static hum over the speakers as she waited for General Steren's
response.
"We
cannot be certain of that, Your Highness."
Fadilia
curled her fingers into a tight fist, as her stomach churned at the expected
reply. "Do they have safe havens
they can fortify themselves in?"
"They
have been briefed on the protocol, if they should not reach the Inner Sanctum
within the allotted timeframe."
"Fine." There was nothing else she could possibly
say. "Will you leave soon?"
"We
are mobilized and prepared to leave as soon as possible."
"Have
Michael and Tess arrived yet?"
"Not
yet."
Fadilia
nodded silently, as if General Steren could see her response. Closing her eyes, she clasped Emine's hand
tightly in hers; the handmaiden squeezed comfortingly, as silence filled the
large room.
Oh
great Unseen, watch over my people.
Give them speed and alertness. Fadilia exhaled slowly. She opened her eyes and looked upon a new
image. Quirinius was now tapped into
the Assembly Hall, projecting a holographic transmission of row upon row of
uniformed soldiers. An unexpected
feeling of pride filled her heart, and a smile tugged at the corners of her
lips. "Take care my
children."
~~~
Nicholas
leaned back comfortably into his cushy chair as he surveyed each of the ongoing
skirmishes near Eshtari's borders. The
Loyalists had seemed to amass quite a number of the rural, lower class subjects
to join their cause. He rubbed his
upper lip as his mind traveled to the possible locations perfect for a hidden
base. Several had come to mind, but
none seemed likely. What he needed was
one of the Kedran traitors. If he could
just get his hands on one of their weak-willed minds, Nicholas would know
exactly where the rebels were hiding.
A
soothing ring echoed in his large quarters, within the palace walls. Someone was at his door.
He made
himself at home quite quickly. The
leisure comforts that were afforded the royal guard were anything less than
extravagant. Nicholas closed his eyes
and rubbed the weariness that always seemed to seep into his eyes if he stared
at the fluorescent screen for prolonged periods of time. "Come in." As he spun around in his chair, there before
him was Barak, one of his closest comrades - as close as he allowed anyone to
be. "Barak!" he exclaimed in
delight. "You've arrived."
"Yes,
Commander." The tall rigid officer
saluted the higher-ranking officer.
Nicholas
pushed himself up from his seat and pursed his lips. A brilliant idea had just come over him. "Barak, I need you to do something for
me." Barak stared at him
curiously. "It's not something
dangerous," he said dismissively.
"I just need you to aide me in moving along the proposed timeline
on our celebration."
"Sir?"
"Come
along," Nicholas said, striding past his confused underling, as he waved
for him to follow. "We're going to
give our Highness an early coronation gift."