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The interior of Princess Ardala’s private quarters gleamed with extravagant opulence, draped in fabrics that shimmered like liquid starlight and accented by glowing fixtures of alien crystal. A tall mirror stood before her, reflecting not just her elegance but the tension that rippled beneath her regal composure.
Kane stood nearby, arms behind his back, his expression as unreadable as ever.
Ardala turned slowly toward him, fingers lightly resting at the base of her neck. Her voice was smooth, controlled, yet tinged with a quiet edge of tension. “Since I am to be escorted to the conference by Terrans, I would prefer to minimize any… obvious differences between us.” She sighed softly, casting a brief, reflective glance at her own image in the polished wall. “Terrans hide behind suspicion when faced with the unfamiliar. Unlike you, Kane—they don’t hesitate to strike first.”.”
He’d been startled himself when he first learned of the Draconians’ unique ability—an evolutionary trait as unnerving as it was extraordinary. The exact term used by her people slipped his mind for a moment, hovering just out of reach, until memory snapped it into place. Kane raised a brow, his voice calm but edged with curiosity. “You’re speaking of the Separation, I presume?”
She nodded slowly, her voice smooth with a touch of wry irony. “Yes. Our little… peculiarity. As natural to us as breath, yet apparently unsettling to more primitive species.” Turning once again to the mirror, her tone deepened with amused detachment. “My priorities do seem misaligned, don’t they? The choice of which Terran cities to annihilate—should negotiations fail—rests with me. Along with deciding what fate might befall Buck Rogers, should things take an unpleasant turn.” She gave a small, almost rueful smile. “And yet here I am, agonizing over how to conceal the one feature that most clearly marks me as other. All because Terrans tend to fixate on difference—and fear it.”
“Understandable,” Kane replied, his voice carefully measured. “They will be under greater pressure than you, after all.”
She tilted her head—not detaching it, for the moment—and arched a brow. “Let’s hope they realize that if anything prevents me from attending that conference, the consequences for them will be… devastating.”
“As indeed they should be, Princess.”
She turned toward a pedestal where several ceremonial adornments waited, glittering with planetary sigils and gemstones from half the known systems. “I think I’ll forego the rest of the decorations. They might seem a bit… pretentious. But the cape—I’ll keep that.”
Kane nodded. “A wise choice. Regal, but restrained.”
Her voice softened, touched by the haze of memory. “When I was a child, the royal tutors showed us an old hologram—footage of a Terran audience witnessing my father perform an act of separation during a diplomatic exchange. Their reaction was immediate and visceral revulsion. They were horrified by what, to us, is as routine as blinking.”
Kane frowned, his expression darkening. “Then… do Terrans today know how your people differ?”
“No, not anymore,” she said thoughtfully. “That incident was from decades past. Our contact with the Terrans has been so limited, so carefully managed. I doubt there are any non-Draconians alive today who know the truth of our duo-entity physiology.”
Kane’s eyes narrowed. “All the more reason for caution, Princess—especially where one particular Terran is concerned.”
Ardala didn’t need him to elaborate. Her gaze drifted toward the window, her voice quieter, tinged with something almost tender. “Buck Rogers,” she murmured. “He’s never seen the Separation. Not with his own eyes.” Ardala smiled faintly, her fingers idly tracing the edge of her cape. “So captivating. So warm and unaffected. He challenges me, resists me—always has. And still, I find myself… drawn to him. Who else could stir such defiance in me and yet leave me wondering if he’s the only one in this quadrant I’ve ever truly wanted?”
There was a pause.
“Where is he now?” Kane asked.
Ardala’s gaze drifted toward the star-flecked void beyond the viewport, a flicker of anticipation in her eyes. “They say Buck Rogers is aboard the Searcher,” she murmured. “Fate has a curious sense of timing. I suspect our paths will cross again—very soon.”
Just then, a soft chime resonated through the chamber. A calm voice crackled over the overhead speaker: “We are now approaching the Earth vessel designated Searcher, which carries your escort, Princess.”
Ardala adjusted the fall of her cape, smoothing the fine fabric with deliberate grace. She turned to Kane, lifting her chin slightly. “Well? Do I look the part of a diplomat—or just another threat in silk and metal?”
Kane regarded her with measured approval. “You look every inch the sovereign you are, Highness. The Terrans will be disarmed before you speak a word.”
A faint smile touched Ardala’s lips, though her eyes remained cool and unreadable.
“And Buck Rogers,” Kane continued, his voice dropping, “will be pleased. Of that, I have no doubt.”
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