Special thanks go to jainga, who was totally and absolutely right, 33 is not a prime number :) That mistake is now corrected on chapter 35, David.

And welcome to new readers! Hearing from you always make my day :D This part is still pending one more review from the beta, so some grammatical mistakes are still around. I'll fix them soon.


XXXVI
The Guards

cont.

"Are you sure?" Ray asked with a raised eyebrow and a very doubtful face. Not that he was aware of that, of course, it being 2:00 a.m. and his bed calling out to him from the bottom of this underground facility.

Dave stopped with his puzzle.

"Of course I'm sure," he said, frowning, probably wondering why Ray was asking him in the first place.
The problem in question was the new security system Ray had been working almost all week long. The implementation of the depleted uranium walls, especially in all the entries and vulnerable spots, was supposed to take about three months.

Instead, there had been a delay with the delivery, and then with the installation. And then the kids had arrived and Dave had wanted to speed things up. What the hell had been the problem with their very efficient concrete structures, Ray had no idea, but the fact that Dave was now extending this new security implementation to his other facilities in Europe meant a lot of trouble for a lot of people. And a lot of money too, but most importantly, it also attracted attention to them. It was a lot of depleted uranium, more than enough to make the wrong people curious.

Dave smiled, as if he had suddenly understood something.

"Relax, I don't mean I want them done next week," Dave said, as he put the puzzle piece he was holding down. "I realize I gave you an exceptionally short time to finish, but I won't do that with the other facilities. Just make sure that by the end of this year, all places have the new modifications."

Dave walked to the counter which Ray was reclining against, his eyes already set on the piece of birthday cake. In fact, Ray was thinking if going for his fourth serving at 2:00 a.m. would be wise or not. He shook his head.

"Are we going to work with radioactive material?" Ray asked out of the blue. He was tired, and had waited for an hour to speak with Dave alone before Jake had excused himself to his own lab. Security matters were never discussed in front of Dave's oldest friend, a rule Dave had established since Ray had started working with him. It was meant to protect Jake, because what the good doctor didn't know, he couldn't tell anybody else either. Ignorance was bliss.

"No," Dave simply said, slicing the chocolate cake with the spoon. Depleted uranium was commonly used to isolate industrial radiography cameras, and it had unsettled Ray a little to know that he might be in contact with gamma radiation.

Ray looked at Dave with an expectant air. The material had also been used as counterweight in ships and airplanes, but Ray doubted that was the case here. Dave wanted to keep something in, but if not radiation, then what?

Dave took his time chewing his chocolate cake. "It has other… not so common uses," he said, his eyes lost in some point of the opposite wall. "Don't worry about it Ray. It's a measure to give me peace of mind."

Ray blinked. He had not spent the better part of four days fretting over the schematics and all the trouble of having the new system in place before Dave went away so Dave could have peace of mind.

Well, apparently, he had.

Dave cut another piece of his birthday cake. "I should tell Danielle I have 12 birthdays a year…" he said, contemplating the brown mass. Chocolate over chocolate and more chocolate. Usually, Ray wouldn't have been able to tolerate that much chocolate in his system, but Danielle had a way with flavors… "You know that woman wants in your pants," Ray remarked, going for his fourth serving after all.

"That woman wants in any man's pants, as long as they give her power," Dave stated without skipping a beat. Ray wondered if Danielle had had her way and had slept with Dave. She certainly wasn't hard to look at. It wasn't until she started talking that the illusion was lost. Boy, he knew very few people who could be more vicious than her.

And then again, he knew even fewer people who could be as impervious to such poisonous words as Dave. It wasn't like the guy didn't know she was aiming to hurt, it was that he just didn't care. That was probably why he had hired her in the first place: he hadn't cared about her looks or the way she thought, he had just cared about the fact that she could cook the most amazing food in the world and she needed a place to hide.

He didn't know the whole story of how the French Chef had ended up assigned to the Minnesota compound, only that it had to do with a double murder and the mafia. He doubted she regretted the murders, and he imagined it was the mafia, the power that came with it, that had gotten her into that mess to begin with. Even Dave would have trouble arranging her safe passage into a normal life in the open. Danielle probably wanted to become a world famous chef, but for some years she would have to bide her time until Dave had cleared things up for her.

In that respect, Ray was happy to know he didn't yearn for fame. He was in his element being anonymous, and that was something that suited Dave's purposes greatly. Dave had first and foremost contacted him because he needed to learn self defense, but he had also been eager to know how good of a strategist Ray was. Eight years later, Ray was still on the job, so he was proud to know he had passed Dave's high quality standards. The fact that they had a deal and that Ray had a lot to lose if Dave withdrew his protection was no longer the heavy burden it had been at the beginning of their working relationship. Now they were friends.

Dave swallowed his chocolate cake down and casually said, "You know, Ray, Jake came today with a lot of questions. Ideas that he pieced together out of some things you must have told him."

Ray inwardly cringed. It was one thing to share some musings with the good doc, and a whole other that Jake had turned around and repeated them to Dave, of all people.

"Jake's worried about not… getting the whole picture," Ray slowly said. There was no way of denying he had been talking to Jake about Dave, but it was only natural it would happen. Dave had dragged them both into this whole thing with telling them only half of the story.

"What about you? Are you worried you're not getting the whole picture too?" Dave asked, slowly slicing his cake with the spoon.

"I trust you Dave. I know that the less I know, the safer I'll be when it comes to your projects." Dave stopped staring at his cake and turned to look at Ray, eyes slightly wide. Then he chuckled.

"You do get the whole picture," he said, smiling at his cake as the spoon cut the little piece. "At least when it concerns why I'm keeping some things to myself."

Things like depleted uranium covering the walls, Ray bet. But then again, if it gave Dave peace of mind, then it should give Ray peace of mind too. Because it meant he was doing something to contribute to the whole picture. And that made Ray feel good.

Besides, it was better than worrying about gamma radiation.

The hour read 5:43 a.m.

Wide awake, staring at the ceiling, Max was trying very hard to control his breathing and to stay very still, so Liz wouldn't be disturbed. He'd been having flashes… more from Dave's pencil, he knew, fleeting images most of them, but a couple were very clear in his mind. Had Dave been thinking about this some random day? Or were these experiences so embedded in his subconscious, into who he was, that these impressions would be on anything and everything he touched?

It was hard to tell when Max's heart was beating so fast. He wished some ray of light would cross a window signaling the new day, and that these dream-like images would fade away, being no match for reality. But there was no sun shining down here, no windows to speak of, and what Max had seen wasn't a dream, but memories that had happened to the man who could very well be olding their future in his hands.

Max closed his eyes and took one last deep breath, letting the fear wear off, trying to focus the pieces together. The last flash was the strongest one, so he concentrated on it first. He idly wondered if it had been like this for Michael and the image of Atherton's house that had been stored in Michael's mind for days until he had forced it out through his drawings.

It wouldn't take Max days, and it wouldn't take him drawings either. Max just needed a calm mind.

There had been a lot of gunfire. Glass shattering. Screams. Distant screams. And everything had been so big. It was the memory of a child, Max realized, and that frightened him. It was night. They were in a room… Dave, as a child, and his parents. But he wasn't Dave, he was Da-veed, and Max heard the Arabic name being called by his Mom as she told him to stay away from the door.

Inside the house, she didn't wear her veil, and she and his father were discussing something that Dave wasn't paying attention to. He was thinking about his puzzles… in the car… he could go out to the car. His Mom wouldn't even know he had gone and come.

The light went off in the house, in the entire street. Even at five years old, Dave could sense the feeling of dread coming from his parents, even if he couldn't name it. All he knew was that there was danger, trouble coming his way. And the three of them stood very still, his father signaling with a finger that Dave would not say a word. From that moment on, Dave would always stay very still when facing danger. In his young mind, the image of his parents standing still merged with the certainty that it was the only way to face it.

The next part was confusing. Max didn't know if the gunfire had been directed only at their house, at their street, or at the entire town. Dave only had memories of a dark room, gunfire shattering glass… distant screams. But not his parents' screams, because they were being very quiet. Yet the fear… oh the fear was there, and it got Max's heart racing again.

Max closed his eyes and let the flash go, picking instead the other one that was clear in his head. It was daylight this time, and Dave was a happy kid. He was playing outside, the morning sun burning everything, the sky without a single cloud. His hazel eyes could better stand the glare from the desert than the clear blue of his Dad's could, and as Dave ran following his own shadow, other kids ran with him, playing their own game. Dave wasn't a shy kid by any stretch of the imagination, but because he was the son of a foreigner, kids would usually avoid him. And it hurt his little heart, thinking that maybe the next town would be different.

And this time, it was different. He had been accepted in their games, and his enthusiasm had soared. They were playing they were from different tribes. Now, for a five year old foreigner, Dave couldn't really understand that there were hundreds of years of bad blood between the Arabic tribes. Truces and alliances ran as deep as old scars along with complicated oaths and loyalties. For little David, it was all a game of pretend, and he was holding one of those black, loud guns every male seemed to be carrying around these places, and pretending to be shooting this or that tribe member because it was fun. He would even pretend he had been hit, just to get up and keep running, his hands holding the imaginary gun while he was voicing the rush of bullets coming out. After all, he had been around a lot of gunfire, so he knew how it sounded.

It was the shadow he noticed first. The long, long shadow that was coming behind him as he was aiming and shooting at another kid. It was his new friends' silence what he noticed second, that made him pause. He stood very still as he saw the shadow of a man coming closer, dwarfing his own shadow, his little arms falling at his sides a second later. He was so scared.

It was his father's shadow.

He slowly turned, instinctively knowing he was in trouble, and as he looked up, up, up to his father's tall figure and found his eyes, he felt something inside his stomach he couldn't name. It was shame, but it would be years before he knew that.

"David," he said very seriously, the name coming in its English form "What are you doing?" his voice was barely above a whisper, the wind whipping sand around them. He wasn't mad, Max knew, Dave's Dad was disappointed, and it hurt even worse. "You shouldn't even pretend… David, you can be the smartest kid on the planet, but if you don't know the value of human life, then you don't know a thing."

Max closed his eyes again and tiredly rubbed his face. He felt the weight of those words, still feeling responsible for Alex's death. Life matters, Tess, the echoes of his own words ringing in his mind. But the point was, Dave held his father's words very close to his heart. Even if at five he hadn't been able to understand them, he had stood by the fact that above everything else, it was the value of human life that mattered.

What was that supposed to mean for them, then?

Max got up from the bed, turned the alarm off even if it hadn't started beeping yet, and headed to the kitchen for a cold glass of water. He wasn't really tired, but there had been so many conflicted emotions coming from those flashes, that he was now emotionally drained.

Did Dave consider them a danger because they weren't human? Or was Dave truly worried about them, thinking their lives mattered enough to go through all this trouble to keep them safe?

It couldn't be just simple gain, Max knew. There were too many conflicting little details for that. If Dave considered them a danger, like the Special Unit blindly believed, then maybe Dave wanted to study them in order to obtain information and ultimately be capable of destroying other aliens, other invaders. Knowing your enemy was basic to winning a war.

Max could understand that. And, in a way, he felt his responsibility to prove to this man that they were telling the truth when it came to wanting a normal life and nothing else. He was no king, much less an invader of any sort, but he also couldn't deny he was… special. That his abilities were bound to attract the attention of all sorts of men was something he had always known, but at least Dave seemed to want to know him for who he was, and not only for what he was; though without the powers, Max knew he would have never crossed Dave's radar.

"Hey," Liz embraced him from behind, "you turned the alarm off," she said in a soothing voice, probably feeling his turmoil. "Are you all right?"

Was he? He wasn't sure. Butterflies started dancing in his stomach at the thought that he might give the wrong impression to this man. If Dave was looking for clues that they weren't trustworthy, Max would have to be very careful with what he said, and how he said it.

"I'm a little anxious," he admitted a little reluctantly, turning around to return her embrace.

"I know the feeling," she said, resting her cheek against his chest, her hands slowly caressing his back. It felt wonderful. It renewed his confidence and steadied his nerves, which was precisely what he needed the most right now: a clear head.

"I'll make pancakes," Max said, still not letting her go. He wasn't sure if his stomach was up to the task of eating, but Liz didn't have to starve because of him.

"You're going to do great today," she said with a smile, turning her eyes to meet his, and through their connection Max felt a surge of pride. She was proud of him, and the feeling left him astonished. She believed in him, she had told him so a thousand times over, but it was so much more real when he got to experience it like this.

She tiptoed and lightly kissed him, then turned around and headed for the shower, all the way sending all these happy… waves through the whole apartment. For a moment, Max wasn't sure if Liz was trying extra hard at making him feel calmed, or if his heightened connection was making him feel her more acutely. He decided he didn't care, it just felt too good to mess with. By this point in time, he had all but forgotten Dave's memories. Max had just too much to worry about right now to be thinking about that.

He actually managed half a pancake and almost an entire glass of juice by the time he was ready to go. At 6:37 a.m. Michael met him and Liz in the hallway that divided their apartments with a serious face, and even more serious dark circles below his eyes.

"I don't like this," was all he said as Isabel and Kyle joined them. Of course, the downside of being more alert to the waves around him was that Max could feel more than ever how much Michael didn't like this. But Max couldn't blame him. After the incident at Jake's lab, Max didn't like this either. He just didn't have a choice.

He nodded once to Michael, acknowledging that he understood, but part of him wondered if everything he was feeling from his friend was concern from their actual situation, or was the man in front of him, his second in command, worried that he couldn't go where his leader was heading?

He shook his head. That was absurd.

Maria came last to join the Merry Band, as Kyle called them when they were on the road, red book in hand. Max knew Jake's present had been a hit with the blond girl, but by the way the waves around him changed to annoyance, he doubted Michael approved of it all that much.

"What?" Maria challenged Michael, "it's not as if we didn't know Max is going to take hours up there." She strode right in the middle of them and headed out of the departments area, making them follow her a second later. Leave it to Maria to cut to the chase and just approach it head on.

It was a rather silent trip, all eight minutes of it. He had been reviewing everything there was to review with all of them the night before, so his brain was a little overwhelmed right now. He was certainly not expecting to be making conversation, and part of him was aware that the others were also anxious at how he was going to handle things. Ultimately, all their interviews had gone at least okay, but if this one failed, if for some reason either Max or Dave found fault with the other, then… well, then they were screwed.

"We'll wait for you at lunch," Liz said as they reached the Gym, the place where they all had parted for their meetings with Dave. He knew he could ask her to go with him as far as the elevator that would take him aboveground, but he actually wanted to make the short walk on his own. He still had to find some sort of mental balance before the whole thing started.

"Okay," he quietly said as he bent down to kiss her softly. A reassurance kiss, not a good-bye one, he told himself.

It was a rather awkward moment after that. He nodded at them and took a deep breath, ready to leave. "Be safe," was all Michael said, making Max stop for a second. He looked at him, and then at his sister, drawing their strength in. Isabel slightly nodded to him, silently telling him that she trusted him.

He finally turned for good and started walking towards Dave's office.

Butterflies took permanent residence in his stomach as he reached the corner and was finally out of sight of his friends. He was on his own.

He slowed his stride a little, taking another deep breath, closing his eyes just for a second. He could do this, he knew everything he had to know, he had been debriefed and counseled, and all plans and scenarios had been explored. When Max opened his eyes and his stride took speed again, his mind wasn't really at the compound, and he wasn't quite Max either.

He was walking down the corridor of the Royal Palace, and he was nervous as hell. It was the first time he would speak to the other four members of the Interplanetary Alliance as Zan the King, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was still too young and too inexperienced to take on his father's duties.

He was on his own.

The dark blue cape fluttered behind him in the light breeze, as he walked steadily, if a bit fast. He was early to the meeting, he knew, but he just couldn't take pacing around his Royal Chambers any more. If he went once more through the entire speech and subsequent agenda, he would just implode. He needed to take his mind off things, and maybe a little fresh air would help him with that.

It was a clear morning, as usual, no cloud in the sky. Weather systems had been mastered four generations before he was born, and there was simply no way a cloud could sneak in. He could still make out the distant shape of their smallest moon, right above the horizon, reminding him that the festival at Dimaras Rock was getting closer.

He slightly fidgeted with his gloved hand, catching his thumb inside his fist. The only sound was the rhythmical steps of the guards. Four in front and four behind him, as much a part of his life as his own shadow. His Invisible Guard was surely keeping up too, but shapeshifters were good at staying out of sight. He had inherited a healthy supply of allies from his father, but he also had enemies to be aware of, which made necessary the added precautions of so many guards.

As Zan crossed one of the many high passes that connected all buildings in the Palace, he wondered what it would be like to be like them.

He was born the son of the king, his life already traced and planned before he had taken his first breath. Inside of him, he had the Seal of the King, the undeniable proof of his lineage and the insurance that shapeshifters would not turn on him. Beyond that, every gene in his body had been engineered to ensure he had every advantage, every skill he would need in order to reign.

Genetically manipulation was only allowed to Royalty. And then, the Royal Seal could only be successfully implanted in males, making it a necessity that every king produced a male heir. Antarians in general had nature on their side, allowing for genetic evolution to follow its course, something that technicians in their labs could not compete with. But, the idea of leaving to nature the qualities that their leaders would have was unthinkable. Too much depended on their kings being able to make decisions, right decisions, to risk them having conflicting skills.

But if the Kings bore the responsibility of guiding their kingdoms, it was their Queens who held the responsibility of balancing them. With their gene pool equally strengthened, all noble women were candidates to take the throne once the Crown Prince made his choice, and Zan had nothing less than admiration for how his mother handled things. Someday, he too would find his Queen. His children would be genetically altered, though his sons would inherit a dormant Seal until his time was over, placing a destiny set in stone for them, while his daughters would be free to choose another path. Just like the guards in front of him, they could all choose a different life.

They could start over if they so wanted. Try this lifestyle just to change it later. And the idea intrigued him.

The high white arcs threw long shadows at this early hour, and from this height, all it took was a slight turn of his head to look at his kingdom, the city way below and away from this particular point. If he narrowed his eyes, he could even make out the primary ports, small spaceships taking cargo to the interstellar ships that waited at the space docks, invisible during daylight.

He wasn't very fond of space travel, one of the many reasons he had wanted to hold the Summit on Antar, and he would definitely push for the Alliance to keep having their meetings on his home planet. Soon enough, a building blocked his view as he kept walking through the Palace, his mind returning to his guards.

Since he had been old enough to be told about his destiny, Zan had paid close attention to his father: the way he walked, the way he talked, even the way he looked at people. Even at a young age, Zan had embraced the concept that his life already had a purpose, that what he would do mattered to an entire planet. He was made aware of his responsibilities every single day of his life, and not once had he thought about giving up his birthright. Everything he did was part of who he was, and given the choice of doing something else, he would have found himself at a loss.

In front of him, the silvery capes of his guards kept rhythm with their movements. These guards who protected him had chosen to do so. They had been chosen from among the best, but ultimately, they were walking right alongside him because at some point they had decided they wanted that.

In a sudden revelation, Zan knew that life without a clear path was unsettling.

He almost faltered at that, his shoulder-length hair slightly disarraying from the movement, but he kept walking, discretely passing a hand over his hair to make sure it was as neatly as it should be. Zan loved the way his life was. He knew his limits, knew his responsibilities, knew what was expected of him, but seeing his guards in front of him now made him wonder, for the first time in his life, that as unsettling as it was, maybe he too had the right to change. To change things. During his father's reign, much had been accomplished, and things had settled down without any further review. Was he too young to start thinking about changes then?

The butterflies returned to his stomach as he was getting closer to his destination. Was he too young to be present at the Summit? He was barely an adult by Antarian laws, something the other four leaders of the Alliance had not missed.

With a firm stride, Zan tried to put these thoughts aside. The doors to the Summit Chambers were now in view, and he prepared himself for what was coming, because young or not, he was Antar's new leader, and what he would say would matter. On his shoulders lay the future of his people, including protecting their right to choose their own lives.

Wasn't it ironic he couldn't choose his?

The guards stopped and departed to let him in. Only the leaders could enter, and as Zan stopped in front of the doors to be scanned and then allowed inside, he tightened his stomach, reining in his nerves.

He could do this, and he would do it right.

By the time the doors opened, they had morphed back to let Max inside the elevator. As if he were walking right outside a dream, the entire Palace dissolved, the guards too, leaving him disoriented for one second, staring at himself in the inner elevator mirror that was now in front of him.

He blinked.

What the hell had that been?


AN: There might be a little confusion regarding the depleted uranium. Nasedo tells Isabel, Tess and Michael in the White Room that depleted uranium is a metal composed of heavy atoms which they cannot manipulate.