There were computer screens in this strange coffin, though all but one were turned off, and Sakhr couldn't figure out how to interact with the remaining one. It had a logo on it: ORF. Beneath it in tiny letters: Orbital Response Force. Underneath that was a paragraph explaining that he had been detained and was in transport, that he should remain calm. Farther down were the same words, but in different languages. Touching the screen did nothing, nor did banging on it, or yelling, or kicking the hatch.

It was a perfect trap for him. Complete containment without any hope of physical contact, and they could take him wherever they wanted.

He could only hope the others hadn't been caught to. Alexander had abandoned him and locked him out of the shuttle just as the marines closed in, but he supposed it was his only choice. Sakhr had been too debilitated to do anything, much less get onboard. Alex had tried at least, which was honestly more than Sakhr would have expected from him.

Sakhr's body ached from the electric shock. And having been forced to sit still for so long, the alcohol in his system was finally making him drowsy, despite his predicament.

After ages, he finally heard approaching voices. He sat back in the seat and pretended to be unconscious. The ruse almost certainly wouldn't work, but why not?

A cranked handle echoed in the chamber. With a pressure equalizing pop, the hatch pulled open. Daylight poured in. Had he really been trapped in there that long?

People were near. He would wait until someone was near before grasping out. All he needed was a fingertip against a bare wrist, or a brush of a cheek.

"Helena?" someone yelled. "Helena? Are you okay?"

Someone touched him. Bare flesh, but he had recognized that voice just a moment before. It was Alexander, or rather the small Asian body he was in. Sakhr opened his eyes.

Two men dressed as medics were examining him while soldiers stood by. No weapons were pointed at him, nor was anyone restraining him.

Sakhr moved.

A medic gently stopped him. "Don't try to get up, Your Highness."

Your Highness? Sakhr looked around for Alexander. There he was, behind a few soldiers. He had called for Sakhr immediately upon the hatch opening, and he called him by the princess's name. The implication was clear. These people didn't know who he really was. Alexander was warning him to stay in his current body.

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Alexander nodded in confirmation. Only Sakhr noticed. Ordinarily, he hated it when Alexander was in his head, but he was too many questions. For instance, did he need to be careful about what he said out loud?

Again, Alexander nodded.

The medics were searching over his body. Another shined a light in her eyes. "Are you hurt, ma'am?"

"No. Get off me." Despite their insistence, Sakhr struggled to his feet and studied his surroundings.

Soldiers surrounded him in what seemed at first to be a parking lot, but it wasn't. The markings on the pavement more resembled those on a helicopter pad, and the vehicles were strange to him. They had pegs instead of wheels, and their markings were military.

The soldiers were unloading two other pods like his which contained Sibyl and Quentin. Something was wrong with them. Both quivered and sweated. Sibyl had vomit down her front. The soldiers transported them onto stretchers.

Sakhr walked toward Alexander.

"Please, ma'am. Just come with us. We need to examine you."

"I said I'm fine."

This time, the medics were forceful. They pulled her toward a shuttle with medical markings. He tried to shake them off, but they wouldn't stop.

"It's okay, Helena," Alexander shouted. "They're not with the other marines. They're not with Bishop. These people are trying to help us."

Huh? Bishop? God damn it. What story was Sakhr supposed to go along with? What the hell was going on? Where was Victoria?

"I want to talk to my friend," Sakhr said to the medics. Alexander ducked under the guards and darted over. They tried catching him, but a high ranking officer signaled for them to let him though. Sakhr didn't know these foreign ranks, but the officer had to be a general or an admiral judging from his pips.

Alex hugged Sakhr. "Thank God you're okay."

That certainly was an act. "Yes, I'm fine. I'm fine. But what is going on here? Where's my mother?"

Alex pulled back and looked him solemnly in the eye. "Helena. Just after Bishop's men dragged you away, there was an explosion."

"An explosion?" He vaguely recalled hearing it. More importantly, who the hell was Bishop? Was this someone he knew?

Alexander's gave a minuscule headshake. So he didn't know Bishop? Yet Alexander said the name like it should mean something.

Alex's hidden nod was hesitant, so maybe? This must be the game he used to play with Anton, but God damn was it frustrating. So Bishop was someone Sakhr has never heard of, but this person was... what? A supposed enemy?

Nod.

"Your Highness," this was the officer. "I'm General Soto. We need to take you to safety and look after you."

"What happened to my mother?"

"The tower was destroyed by what we believe was a failed nuclear detonation. Her shuttle crashed trying to evacuate."

"She's dead?"

"I'm afraid so, ma'am. Go with these men to the hospital. We need to make sure you're okay. As of now, you're now the acting queen, and the empire is in a state of emergency. Your safety is our top priority."

...Queen?