Part 33: The Price of Freedom
November 2nd, 2011 - New York
1 : Max
"You cannot be serious about this," Van said as soon as the door closed. In this room, no one was allowed, not even their own guards.
"I've never been more serious about anything in my entire life," he answered, looking Van straight in the eye. In here, they were equals.
"If this doesn't work, you will die."
"If this doesn't work, I'm already dead. Khivar's plan is flawless, Van. He will kill me. He will use my death to undermine the Rebellion—to undermine you."
"What's the difference between you dying and just pretending to die? For all intents and purposes, he will do the same."
"Because this way I choose how I die, and you choose the narrative."
"Don't even joke about it."
Max paused. This was his last chance, his last shot at a normal life. It had to be perfect.
"I died, Van. More than seventy years ago, the Palace was breached, my general fell, my own sister opened the gates before falling herself. I couldn't even save my wife. And before the sun rose in the horizon, I died too. My reign has been over for a long time. It's not me Antar needs anymore."
"You died and then came back from beyond. You are the reason the Rebellion even exists."
"No, you exist because I failed. Our Mother knew this. And with her wisdom she chose to let me go and look for the future. She chose you, Van. I was always a long shot."
"Nonsense. You stand here with me, now. I have no reason to want your throne, no reason to be okay with this whole thing. You are Zan, rightful ruler of Antar. Leader of the interplanetary alliance. King—"
Max placed a hand on Van's shoulder. This was not going to work.
"Van. I used to be Zan. I'm not him any longer. Not in this lifetime. Not since the moment I emerged from the pod chamber, tucked away in a cave on this small planet, so far away from our own sun. I can tell you anything Zan thought, felt, did. I know him. I was there at his father's funeral and at his own coronation. I was there when he fell in love with Ava. Zan lived, but he no longer lives."
Van stepped back, rejecting the hand that had been placed on him.
"Zan lives inside of you," he said instead, looking at the floor for a moment as he collected his thoughts for another round of arguments.
"We're losing valuable time," Max said. "Khivar will kill me. I won't see the sun rising tomorrow, of that much I'm certain. At the very least, Jake's plan has a chance of saving my life."
"Then we'll continue this discussion once you're safely on the other side."
"No," Max said, with all the authority his crown gave him.
Van frowned, clearly not used to being denied.
"If you're not Zan, then you have no authority to demand anything."
"If I have the seal, by law, I'm King. I told you, I know everything Zan knew, even if I don't consider myself him. But that's not the point. The seal is too powerful to be left unguided. Michael will get it, except it will manifest itself as a ruthless, emotional version of him. You don't want that—he doesn't want that. There's also the chance that my son will get it, even if he's too human. I cannot risk it. It has to go to you Van. I order it."
"This is treason. I will not—I cannot—how could you talk about this, you of all people?"
"Because I do care about Antar. Not only as a principle, but because I know what it meant to Zan. This seal needs to be used for good. You need it to reclaim the throne."
"Everyone will think I killed you for it."
"No, I will die by Khivar's hand, and with my dying breath I will give you the seal. The story will be yours to tell as you please."
Van shook his head as Max moved forward.
"Van. Be reasonable. I might survive, but there's a good chance I won't. This is the only answer that makes sense to the Rebellion. Your shapeshifters love you. Antar is rooting for you."
"They all fight in your name."
"They all fight for your version of my name. And you're the only one who can embody that."
Max swayed for a moment, feeling that intrusive fog fighting to take his mind. "We're really running out of time, Van. What's it gonna be? Does the seal go wherever it wants to, or do you keep it where you can use it for the best?"
Van moved forward to help Max sit down. "This isn't how it was supposed to be," he said, hurt. Lost. "I need you—I need Zan. You, who know all there is to know about him, are the closest I have to that dream. How can I take this from you?"
"It is mine to give, Van. That's why I can transfer it—and why I can take it back."
Van eyes shone with the possibility. A way to solve this dilemma from his perspective. "When you wake up, I will offer it back."
Max nodded once. He was relieved that Van had chosen offer instead of give it, because there was a good chance that Van was finally realizing the huge problem the seal could present.
"I will have to touch you," Max said, tentatively hovering over Van's forehead. He had no idea how an Antarian-hybrid connection would work, but he had to try. This was the last step to free himself from the chains of destiny.
"Will it hurt you?" Van asked.
"No, but you might get some flashes—glimpses of my life as I might see glimpses of yours."
Or at least I hope that's the worst that can happen. Last time he'd taken it back from Michael, they'd been in the middle of fighting each other with some creative uses of their powers.
"Just remember," Max warned, "everything you say after this will be law to your shifter friends. Make sure to wield this power wisely."
2 : Van
The plan was simple: take the Royal Seal of Antar, carefully wrap it inside of him until Zan woke up out of Khivar's trap, and then give it back. Surely, reason would prevail. Surely, Zan would understand once the threat to his life was over.
There would be plenty of time to do the convincing once this day from hell was over.
So when Zan touched him, all Van was thinking about was how much he needed Zan to be back with them.
Images started filtering into his mind, too brief and too alien for him to make any context out of them. Max as a child, healing a pigeon, the energy surging through his chest all the way to the tips of his fingers and into the bird.
Teenager Max watching from afar at the love of his life, his heart madly in love while his mind restrained him with the warning of what he was.
Liz shot. Liz crying. Liz laughing. Max running. Max terrified. Max singing.
No wonder he calls these flashes, Van thought with amusement as Max's human life went by in seconds, a life of hiding both from the world and from himself.
Everything went dark then. He didn't know if he had his eyes open or not, but in this space, where Max's mind and his were linked, everything was silent for a moment. In the darkness, a moon suddenly shone, illuminating a skyline full of blue and silver banners—Zan's colors. It was the first day of Zan's reign, and when the second moon filled the horizon, Van breathed as Zan breathed, a taste of the new life that was to begin.
As Zan, Van mourned his father and felt the literal weight of the crown on his head. He met Rath and was annoyed at his sister. He fell in love with Ava and pondered the differences between his life and everybody else's. Antar grew far more than anybody gave Zan credit for, a golden age just out of reach for a couple of years more.
The day that Khivar entered the Palace had been a bright day with a clear sky, though Zan would always wonder why he hadn't ordered it to rain. Those who bring down lives seldom present themselves as such, a slightly older Zan thought, as if he knew Van was listening to his every word.
Speeches, dinners, diplomat invitations, it all went in the blink of an eye. Zan ruling at his best, at his worst, though most of the time it was just Zan trying to hold it together in peace.
A searing pain blinded Van for a moment, and then it was gone, and with it, so was Zan, and the Antar that once was but never more.
"It is yours, now," Zan said, a shine of sweat on his face. "I—"
Van stopped him, his eyes wide at the secrets he'd seen. Zan's life, all there to be witnessed, was more than Van had ever hoped for. It was the second-best thing besides having the real Zan here.
"You know all of this, and you still choose to ignore it?"
"I would only do a disservice to you and Antar by pretending knowing this makes me Zan."
"No, that's not what I mean. I see now, how different Max is from Zan, I saw what it felt like to be you and him. But you still carry this knowledge inside of you. You can still carry it out in the world."
"I will always be here to answer all your questions, Van. Whatever you want to know about Zan, I will never deny that insight from you. It's the least I can do for the world that gave me life."
3 : Langley
The thing about calling for reinforcements was that it put groups of people who didn't know each other together, and by default, everyone trusted everybody else around them, thinking as long as they wore a uniform, they were part of the other group.
This was the stuff of dreams for shapeshifters. Wearing any uniform, Langley had to change some colors here, some badges there, and he had instant access everywhere. And though shifters were exceedingly good at executing people, their value really laid on gathering intelligence. Crossing enemy lines was only worth it to either sabotage or learn the enemy's plans, and luckily for him, he could do both.
He'd laid on top of the warehouse for the first hour, watching as first the NYPD and then the FBI branch, arrived to do a perimeter. Langley knew the compound's layout well enough to remember where the emergency exits were, so when cops and official vehicles started parking dangerously close to them, Langley had moved silently but surely through their ranks.
A few telekinetic moves later, he made sure that if any of these cars move to give chase, all of them would lose their tires one way or another. As he worked on it, he listened to the confused chain of command around them. Most cops had been told to come here and help with either crowd control or to make a perimeter, but they had no idea who was here, how many they were, or what was the plan.
McKay might run a tight ship when it came to the Unit, but since he'd proclaimed this a terrorist attack, at least three high ranking officers wanted the merit of running the operation themselves, so McKay had made a point of not sharing a thing, pissing everyone off.
That meant Langley's next step was to play with everyone's confusion and add to the chaos. And boy, did Langley love to play the part.
"I heard there's another cell of terrorists down the road," he said to a couple of wide-eyed rookies. "What we're doing here is just waiting for these ones to call the other ones and I'm telling you, we're going to get stuck in the middle."
He shifted into a policewoman and confidently walked to two other women, "Can you believe this? Those FBI idiots just asked me if I was bringing them coffee!"
Their faces of dismay and repulsion were glorious. Six minutes later, every woman in a thirty feet radius was furious.
My work here is done, he thought after the sixth exchange on this venue. He'd stocked enough animosity between the cops and the FBI—an easy thing, really, when everybody was so ready to play that game—so he started moving on to the inner circles of the operation.
Gone was the police uniform and in was the smart suit with the bored face. Of all the people he'd shifted into his whole life, FBI agent was probably his least favorite yet his most useful. He took a cigarette pack from a loose pocket, and walked closer to where he wanted to be, pretending he was looking for a place to take a smoke.
Nothing attracted an eager crowd better than a lighter and the promise of free cigarettes, so he soon had three other white men asking to join the circle while they waited for some clarity on what the hell where they supposed to be doing here.
"I don't know, man. I was going home and I'm suddenly called here," Langley said, exasperated. "I don't even know where the hell I am, it's the freaking middle of nowhere and I'm freezing!"
"Well, I've been asking for an hour now what terrorist group we're dealing with, but the unit assigned to this operation is completely lip tied. If you ask me, this is domestic terrorism. No one on the other side of the world has claimed this afternoon's car explosion."
"Oh, that would make so much sense," another one of them said, nodding. "It wouldn't surprise me if some senator's son is in there. The level of scrutiny and secrecy going around—"
An explosion inside the warehouse made them all duck for cover momentarily, even if the warehouse was some fifty feet away.
"Jesus Christ! Why didn't they warn us!" one of them said as all three of them reached for their weapons. When the holographic camouflage came down two seconds later, two of them dropped their cigarettes without even noticing and the third one almost choked on it.
Langley was already moving in McKay's direction.
4 : Maria
She studiously waited for Max to open the door, and grinned one of her manic grins at him.
"What?" he asked, frowning, clearly confused at her overwhelming enthusiasm.
"May I borrow your brother, Your Majesty?"
His confusion turned into a glare.
"What?" she innocently asked, "You gotta admit that being friends with a king sounds too cool to pass."
"It's not as if this is news to you," Max said as he moved aside to let her enter.
"It is when everybody else acknowledges it, Your Majesty," she answered innocently again as he chuckled and left.
"Your Highness," she said to Van. She'd never met an alien before who wasn't a hybrid, shapeshifter or a murderous Skin, so she had to be careful how she would approach this man.
Van looked straight at her, motionless standing in the middle of the room, clearly measuring her up. They recognized each other as the rebels they were, she knew, as he nodded once so she could proceed.
She smiled, one of her smart smiles, as Dave called them. "I'm Maria. I'm Zan's best friend," she said, respectfully standing some six feet apart. "But most importantly to you, I'm the one who tells stories."
Van frowned at that, slightly inclining his head as if he were listening to something. "What kind of stories?" he carefully asked. This is a smart cookie, Maria thought. Good.
Also, he has hair to die for, she noted as Van's jet-black simple ponytail undulated behind him all the way to his waist. Human men could just not pull off that vibe.
"Let me summarize this for you: you have a PR problem right now. Zan is the prize everybody wants, but Khivar is about to execute him. We both hope Zan survives this induced coma drama, but this is irrelevant right now. Zan is about to die and your Rebellion might as well die with him if Khivar has any saying on this."
"Not if Zan survives and reclaims the throne," Van said, looking both uncomfortable yet offended by her words.
"Yeah, but you're turning a PR problem into a PR nightmare. What I'm here to tell you is how you have a third option: turn this into a PR opportunity."
Van looked at her for a good thirty seconds of oppressive silence as Maria stood there. In any other occasion, she would have just launched into Maria mode, but Van was different. He thought and made decisions on a whole other level. She had to guide him to what she was offering, or he would just dismiss her as a fraud.
"No one had ever called me Your Highness before," he said as he finally sat down, an invitation to continue. "No one in Antar besides the closest to me know Zan has a brother. We didn't want to create unnecessary attention to myself, yes, but also that there would never be malicious talk."
"Oh, this makes things much more interesting then," Maria said, taking a seat in front of him. "As I see it, Khivar is going to proclaim he's executed Zan, correct?"
"He's probably gathering ways to prove his claim as we speak, yes."
"So you have to preemptively attack. Talk to your people before Khivar gets a chance. You have to let them know that Zan is sacrificing himself in this gamble to thwart Khivar's claim to the throne. That Zan has chosen to do this, for Antar, as the only resort he has while stranded here on Earth. Prove to them that Zan's being the hero they've been waiting for, and it won't matter what Khivar does or doesn't do afterwards. Don't settle for making Zan a martyr here. Make him a legend."
Van froze for a moment, seemingly not even breathing. Then he slowly but surely smiled, a mirror of her smart smiles. "Tell me more."
AN: Thanks Chiarab87! I'm so happy you're enjoying the story! It has been a really complicated chess game to balance for so many years, heh... I'm so happy you guys are getting to see the ending!