Title: The Difference (pt 2)
Takes Place: Immediately after "Baby, it's you" (spoilers up through this episode only)
Plot: When the aliens return from their home world, the impact of the sacrifice Liz made 13 years earlier could mean the difference between Earth's salvation….and it's destruction.
Written: 05. 31. 01 – 06. 06. 01
Feedback: Don't make me beg ; )
Obligatory Disclaimer: I don't own 'em…and I don't even want Max anymore, after what they've done to him. Bah!!
Note: This fic is in NO way, shape, or form related to my other Roswell fic, "Sacrifices". That one will eventually be a trilogy, but this one's totally separate.
"The Difference"
~ pt. II … 2014 ~
~*~*~*~*~
~ The Starship S 'R ia ~
The sleek ship glided silently through the void. Had there been atmosphere, the wind would have slipped up over the curved bow of the craft, rolling smoothly over and under it, the slipstreams meeting in the ship's tumultuous wake. The friction of the wind against the ship would have slowed it imperceptibly, tugging and pulling gently at its surface, dragging, pulling it back.
But as it was, there was no air, here. In the far reaches of space, there was no atmosphere to slow the ship, and it delved unhindered into the dark.
The vastness of space spread out around the tiny ship, surrounding it with its millions of systems, stars, and planets...all millions and millions of light years away. What starlight did reach the vessel was faint, and played feebly over the silver plating that bound the ship together. The vacuum sucked greedily away all trace molecules of bacteria, and small pockets of atmosphere residing on the hull, as a remora to a shark.
The pressure squeezed the reinforced hull of the battleship, attempting at every juncture and weld to gain access. To get inside and infiltrate...to remove the air found within, and crush the fragile shell.
Unaware and unthinking of the constant battle for dominance that raged in the space around the ship, the people inside carried on with their duties, and looked to the future. Looked forward to the conquest ahead.
It had been thirteen years since the Royal Four had come home. Thirteen years since the commander and his young bride had returned with the others, and resumed their reign over their people. Their true people, who had remained loyal through the dark years, while the Four were gone. For what seemed forever they had waited with longing for the day when they would return, and restore their dying nation to the glory it had once known.
And all of their hopes and dreams had come true. In the decade since Zanav had taken back his rule, their nation had become great again...expanding outward and conquering neighboring systems. Lashing back at the enemies of their people and defeating them...absorbing them into the whole. Spurred on by their leader, the young king who had returned to them from a far off planet, in a distant system, they became a cold and malicious race. Soon every system had become a threat to them, and one by one they were each taken out; taken down. Squeezed of life until there was nothing left but a system to be taken. Another victory.
The crew looked forward to the coming day when Zanav would lead them in this, their recent and most glorious conquest. Long had the King made plans to take this system, and the day had finally come. They had spent months on this journey, and knew that many might not return. Still, to be placed on this ship, at this time, was a great honor...for the S'Ria was the lead ship of the armada that followed two days behind them. Flag ship of the entire fleet, the King himself was aboard.
And so the starship cut through the dark emptiness around it, continuing with relentless oblivion on its journey. And all of the minds of the people within the S'Ria looked forward to the day coming; to the next victory. All but one.
The man who had been Michael Guerin stood alone in his cabin, gazing through the small port. It was almost time, he could feel it. He could always tell when a battle was coming. It was part of him now...something inside him that he couldn't ignore, even if he'd wanted to. And he wasn't sure he wanted to.
He was not the person he'd once been.
None of them were, really. All of them had changed; they'd had to. Away from the only world they'd ever known, each of them had adjusted in their own unique way to the new life that had been thrust upon them. In a way, Michael and Isabel had had it easier than the others. Though they'd never remembered the lives they'd shared together before, it only made sense for them to stick together in this one. Light years away from Earth, on a planet they knew nothing about, immersed in a culture they didn't understand, they held to each other as the last things that reminded them of who they were. Only with Isabel had Michael truly felt real. Only she had really understood. She had shared all of his hopes about going home, and understood all of his reasons for missing the place he had come to think of as home. Not like Tess, who had never had any reason to stay on Earth. Not like Max, who was so embittered that he wanted nothing more than to forget it.
And so Michael and Isabel had formed a bond. They didn't love each other...not the way they were supposed to, as husband and wife...but the memories of the planet and the people they'd left behind joined them in an alliance they clung to. It was a survival instinct. Together, they had maintained a little pocket of humanity between them, and were thus never truly alone.
The same could not be said for Max and Tess. All of the experts of their world had been called to care for Tess, and the child she carried...but in the end there was nothing they could do. They had stayed too long on Earth...too much had interrupted the embryo's development, and the child was lost. Tess had grieved, and Michael knew that in a way, she still felt that if the baby had been born things would have worked out differently between her and Max. Privately, Michael doubted it. Max Evans was gone....he'd been gone for a long time; before they'd left Earth, even. In his place was a cold and unfeeling ruler. A leader of his people; a conqueror. Whatever shred of humanity had survived in him to reach their planet had died with his unborn son, leaving a shell of a man in its place. No....Max was gone. All that was left was Zanav, King and Commander.
In the utter silence of his cabin, the man who had been Michael Guerin reflected on all that they had been…what they had become, and what they were headed for.
Though most of the people on the S'Ria would not have noticed, he could feel the faint trembling of the deck plates beneath his boots as the engines labored. For a moment he thought he could feel the ship move, and he stumbled slightly, suddenly queasy. His lips twitched in a shadow of amusement, as he was struck again by the irony: He, sub-Commander Rathier, destined second-in-command of King Zanav, was susceptible to animation sickness. They had come out of suspended animation less than a day ago; awoken by the computer as they'd neared their target. The effects were not strong, and only effected about five percent of the total space-faring population, but lasted for a day or so after awakening.
His smile faded as he remembered the first time he'd come out of the sleep, on that first journey to their planet, from Earth. They'd stumbled out of their chambers, disoriented, confused, and afraid. Not knowing what was going to happen. He remembered feeling naseated, and hung over from the reanimation process, and thinking immediately of Maria...knowing that months had passed for her since he'd left, while he'd only experienced a few days. He'd wondered where she was, what she was doing, and felt sick at having had to leave her. In that moment he'd wanted nothing more than to return to Earth, return to Maria, and forget all about this destiny crap that he wasn't ready for.
But he hadn't gone back, he couldn't. For better or worse, they had come home and had to accept the fate that awaited them. Tess had no trouble accepting her name, Avaryn. Had no difficulty in accepting the life she'd been destined for, as queen of their people. Max had thrown himself into his new role as Zanav, desperately hoping to forget about his human life, and all that he'd left behind. Isabel had had it much harder. Forced to reconcile with the part of herself that had betrayed her brother and race to the skins, she'd had no choice but to accept her hated name; Vilandra.
Michael....Rathier...had gone on to lead the King's armed forces. And to his surprise, he'd found himself good at it. He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised at his successes...victory had been programmed into him, after all. And at first it hadn't been all that bad. Be the second in command, control the fleet. Kinda fun, actually. Until Zanav had started leading them on conquests. Until things started getting bloody.
No....Max Evans was gone. In his place was a heartless killer. Hateful of the fate that had been assigned him, and embittered over what might have been, he had grown into a cold, unfeeling man. And that man had gone on to lead his people into war. His ruthlessness knew no bounds, and Rathier was merely an instrument, albeit an effective one. Over the years Rathier had become accustomed to the bloodshed, and the violence, and the constant warring. And he had never argued with his King over the rightness or wrongness of what they were doing. But in his innermost thoughts, it saddened him. A part of him still remembered the way things had been, and also the way things would have been.
What would he have done, that other Max, if he'd known how the altered history would be? Would he still have gone back in time to Liz and for help in changing the future? Would he have traded that future for this one, if he knew what he would become? Or would he look with horror upon what had happened to them all, and decide that the original timeline should remain unaltered? Lately these kinds of thoughts had plagued Rathier. He tried to ignore them, but the circumstances of the past few months had forced the issue back into his mind. Had reminded him of his past, and put thoughts of Earth back in his head. And with thoughts of Earth, as always, came thoughts of Maria. He thought of her...not for the first, or even for the thousandth time. He still wondered how she was. Where she had gone; what she had done with her life. Surely she wasn't still in Roswell, New Mexico. He remembered a cheesy motel room alongside a highway; a conversation about a better life. No, he knew that Maria would be long gone from Roswell.
It was a small step from thinking of Maria to thinking of Liz. He wondered about her, too. If she'd gone on to be a scientist as they'd always thought…if she knew how much of an effect she'd had on an alien king, who would go on to impact an entire race of people, a galaxy away? He wondered if she remembered that this was the year in which Michael and Isabel had died, in that other timeline? That this was the year Max had come back from to solicit her help to change the future? Did she wonder, as he did, what would have happened if she'd refused to help? Or tried to find some other way?
Did she know that it was because of her that he was so troubled over their latest mission?
He hadn't liked the bloodshed…he hadn't liked the violence. He didn't like taking whole systems by force, resulting in death and suffering on all the planets within it. But he was good at it. And really, he had no choice. This was his destiny. And he had never let his conscience stop him from carrying out an order. But now…
He didn't know how he was going to be able to give the order to attack Earth.
~*~*~*~*~
~ Earth: The Granilith ~
Liz Parker pocketed her car keys as she stepped out onto the dust and gravel floor of the quarry. Letting the door swing shut, she moved away from the car and started on the path up to the granilith. She wasn't worried about getting in…the stone wall that had separated the granilith chamber from the outside world had been pulverized the day the aliens left, and Liz knew from thirteen years' worth of experience that she would remember the way.
As she made her way up through the rocky terrain, she wondered again what it was that drew her back to this place, year after year. Things would never be the same…she knew that. And knowing that, she had tried not to let the events in Roswell, New Mexico affect the rest of her life. But there was still something within her that reached out for the stars…wondered what had happened to them. She knew she would always feel this way.
She didn't think that they would ever come back, but something made her think that it wasn't over. That there was still more to come.
And so every year on the anniversary of their departure she'd come back to Roswell and made the trek to the granilith. Within, she waited for….something. She wasn't sure what…but she felt like she had to be there.
~*~*~*~*~
~ The Starship S 'R ia ~
As Rathier made his way to the king's chambers, he tried to work himself up for the confrontation that he knew was coming. Zanav wouldn't like to be questioned, especially about this planet. But Rathier knew that he couldn't just stand by and let it happen. He had to at least try to stop him.
Vilandra stood motionless, shock and fear apparent in her expression at Rathier's revelation. Her mouth worked a moment before she was finally able to speak. "Oh my God…Michael!", she said in English, " He can't do it! You can't let him!"
Rathier cursed and grabbed hold of her arm, pulling her off the widely traveled garden path and into a grove of T'halia trees. It was their season, and the purple blossoms that grew from them each year filled the air with a pungent musk that enveloped them as he drew her further away from where people might be able to hear his wife speak a language that they were never supposed to use…call him by a name that was forbidden to them. "Would you keep it down?!" he whispered fiercely. "Do you want someone to hear you? You know better!"
Vilandra stumbled after him, too distraught by what he'd just told her to worry about the eyes and ears of the Palace gardeners. She clutched at him, but tried for his sake to keep her voice down. "Michael, you can't let him attack Earth!" she said desperately.
"And you would have me do what, disobey a direct order?" he shot back. He ran a hand through his hair distractedly…he'd come to tell her as soon as he'd found out…he was still shocked, himself. Though if he were to be completely honest with himself…something inside him had known this day was coming. Something within had known over the past thirteen years that Zanav would have to go back there some day. Go back and destroy it.
Vilandra panted as they finally stopped pulling back into the grove, and stopped in a small clearing. She pulled away from her husband and stared at him, her expression hard. "If you have to!" she said. "What other choice is there? You can't do it. He can't do it!"
Rathier tried to calm her. "Vilandra, you know…" He stopped when he saw her expression harden. Clearly, now was not the time to follow Antar's rules about forgetting their lives on Earth. He started over. "Isabel, you know how he is. What he's become. And like it or not, he's our king. We are obligated to follow his rule. We have no choice."
She stared back at him, tears beginning to build in her eyes. "How can you even think it, Michael? My parents are there! Maria is there…and Liz, and Kyle, and Valenti. And millions of other innocent people. How can you possibly justify their deaths?!"
Rathier shut his eyes at Maria's name. Vilandra had known it would affect him, and it did. Both of them had their regrets when it came to the people of Earth, and his regret was having to leave Maria behind. Having to give her up without even having ever told her that he loved her. Vilandra knew that. She continued.
"And they will die, Michael. They won't have a chance. He'll take Earth just like he's taken every other system between us and them, and they'll all die. We can't let him do that. They don't deserve…" She broke off as the tears threatened to overwhelm her, and spent a moment composing herself. "We owe them too much to allow this to happen."
Rathier opened his eyes, and looked at his wife. She was openly crying now, and he knew that that said something too. Normally, she was unflappable. He'd seen her negotiate affairs of the state without batting an eyelash, performing with amazing calm under pressure. But this…this one world, had her in a state seldom seen.
"I know," he said.
Arriving at Zanav's Chambers, he paused a moment before entering. He took a deep breath, and self-consciously patted his uniform straight; running his hand through his hair at the last moment in a gesture of nervousness. As the sensor above the entryway noted his presence and parted the doors before him, Rathier took a deep breath and crossed the threshhold. The doors allowed him to pass through, and then hissed quietly behind him, shutting him in.
* author's note * : okay….it might be a couple days before I get part 3 of 3 up…I have two possible endings to this fic, and I'm not sure which one I wanna use yet. Won't be more than a couple days 'till the end's up though. Thanks for reading and reviewing : )