Starship Relic (Lost Colony Uprising Book 1)

by Darcy Troy Paulin

  In the market they purchased a newspaper, the SoChar Craesher. On the front page was a full color picture of the very same market the night before, littered with Snow lookalikes. Max took it as a sign of peace and love in the city, that such nonsense rated the front cover. It was written in universal English as usual, and so they were able to read the article together. It was mostly happy fluff about joyous theater goers and their fad costumes that came and went. But towards the end the author took a turn in the direction of whack-job conspiracy theory. With little to no evidence the journalist openly wondered if one of the first people had returned and inspired the current dress fad. Max felt a cold clammy sweat on his back. It was ridiculous of course. No one would buy into such nonsense. But nonsense or no, it was spot on as to the true events of the previous night.

  Max shook his head and laughed suddenly and forcefully. Snow lifted her right palm ready to slap him should he become hysterical. Doozer made a short objection chitter, but he seemed largely to have given up stopping inter-Pride violence between the two largest crabs.

  Max pushed her slap-happy-hand down and frowned at her.

  “It’s fine,” he said unconvincingly, “I’m fine.”

  Their first stop was to arrange for shipping of Snow’s pod, all the way to New York. They had decided to fly themselves to their destination, and so bought airfare for the first leg of the journey, which stopped in NaChar.

  Max exited the Rock Claw Air terminal with tickets in hand. The airline, named after an impressive, though land bound plains hunting animal from the south, flew to NaChar and back once per day. No ships were currently docked to the tall stone tower that rose above the main building of the terminal.

  Snow was window shopping across the street with Doozer. As Max walked towards her, he noticed a short man in a brown suit, watching her from further up the street. The man lifted a small box, held with a loop around his neck. A circular lens on the front suggested it was a camera, though Max had never seen one so small. The man called out to her. When she did not respond, he called out again, this time in English, “Excuse me Miss!”

  Snow turned to the voice. Max stepped quickly forward and tried to block the picture with his open palm.

  The man scowled. “You’ve ruined the shot!” he said.

  “I’ll give you a shot,” Max said, he moved towards the man and clenched his fists preparing to fulfill his promise. Doozer lunged towards the new enemy, pulling hard on the harness, and stretching the leash taut to get at the man.

  Snow quickly regained control, holding Doozer tight, but by then the man turned and was running for his life.

  Max considered chasing him down and getting that photo. But there were people watching. Also, it was probably wrong to mug people based on their having taken a picture, but mostly it was the people watching. With Doozer blazing a trail, they left in the other direction and took an indirect path back to the Inn.

  There, Max made an attempt to switch Snow’s disguise, using the brown-haired wig and darker makeup. But it had the effect of making her more conspicuous, not less. They discussed the man in brown and what he might have been after. He had to be either a journalist or working for HOSaS. The camera was too small for an amateur. It was also too small for a journalist from the SoChar Craesher as far as Max saw it.

  Max was restless during second sleep and rested poorly, though from the sound of her snoring Snow slept just fine.

  They left the inn early, allowing time to drop off the pod for shipping as planned. Doozer the attack crab was in his harness, Max and Snow were dressed in the same sets of Max’s work clothes that they arrived in, which included Snow’s hood. They carried the pod, wrapped in the sled tarp, down the dock from Max’s boat. With no one inside it was surprisingly light and they were able to move it quickly to the shipping vessel.

  A food vendor sat at the foot of the dock with a long line of customers, dock workers by the look of it. Something caught Max’s eye as he walked past, and he stopped suddenly. Snow, who had been gazing at ships, walked right into him.

  “Bah!” she said. “Stupid hood.”

  Max grabbed a nearby newspaper and held it up into Snow’s field of view, showing her what had caught his attention. On the cover was a picture of Max holding out his hand, and just managing to block Snow’s face. Obviously, it was the picture taken by the man in the brown suit that morning before second sleep. All in all, Snow’s face being concealed by Max’s hand made her look even more mysterious. Doozer got in on the photo too, though sadly his legs had been cropped out. Thankfully, he seemed to be more engaged in window shopping than journalist murder.

  Max paid for the newspaper, put it under his arm and then carried on to the meeting with Duncan.

  Chapter 24

  It was only a short distance from the docks to the top of Cliff Falls. The river water arcing off the cliff edge and over the pair of stone stairways, had traveled more than a hundred miles from the mountains inland. Steps had been carved from the solid rock of the cliff and crisscrossed beneath the wide curtain of water. The stairs continued down into the water, all the way to the low water mark. Even now, with the tide still near its high-water mark, the falls were beautiful. At low tide they must have been a world class wonder to behold. According to Max, there were many waterfalls wider, or with greater flow, but none had such a long uninterrupted vertical drop into the sea.

  Snow could understand now why this made for a great meeting place if one wished to avoid being overheard. Even at a full shout, it was difficult to hear anyone more than a dozen feet away, and line of sight extended twenty or thirty feet in any direction. Anyone that wanted to listen in would have to be either very small or very invisible. Max seemed to think it was overkill, a product of Duncan’s paranoia, but he was willing enough to go along with it.

  Snow wasn’t so sure it was overkill. It didn’t seem unreasonable to think HOSaS might be able to listen in remotely somehow. In any case they were here now, and she was overjoyed with the setting, she would have liked to come here even if they didn’t have a secret meeting with the gray-haired movie buff.

  They half-walked and were half-dragged down the stairs. Doozer, excited by the falls, climbed onto the railings, scuttling, sliding, and reaching out with his long thin legs, trying to pinch or somehow scoop up the water that taunted him so. Snow wrapped the harness leash around her arm in case he fell, but frantic though he seemed, Doozer never once slipped or lost his balance.

  They stood on the stair, necks craned upwards, watching the stairs above. Anyone coming down would many times have to cross under the falls in order to reach them. Doozer calmed down somewhat, but he continued to assess the situation with the cascade of falling water.

  After more than half an hour, seeing only sweaty, heavy breathing joggers, none of which were Duncan, Snow was worried something had gone wrong. A few small groups of sightseers came and went, leaving Snow and Max alone on the stairs.

  Then someone new joined them from above. Not Duncan, but a young woman traveling alone. She stopped at each crossing point to peer down at Snow and Max, which certainly made her stand out from the other visitors to the Cliff Top Falls. Not at the view, or the water. At Snow and Max.

  At the last crossing before reaching their level, she stopped and waved.

  “Hello,” she said.

  At least that is what Snow thought she said. She was far enough away that the crashing falls swallowed the sound of her voice. She had pretty, wavy, dark-brown hair, and a pleasant smile. She assessed them and, though still nervous, seemed to conclude they would probably not kill her.

  Or, Snow thought, she might be a cold hard professional who only seemed friendly and nervous but was in fact a determined killer on a mission. Either way, she continued down the rest of the way and stopped a few steps away from Max who had moved to intercept her. Snow moved up beside him, prepared to do punching if punching needed doing.

  “Hello,” said the woman again, and again she waved nervously.
She glanced back up the cliff. Seeing no one she looked back to Max and then at Snow, trying to get a peek into her hood. If she was a sneaky professional murderer, her act was a convincing one.

  Max returned the greeting though Snow only waved.

  She moved a couple steps closer until she could easily be heard. With another glance to the top of the falls she said, “Are you Max?”

  “No. I’m Bexley,” Max said.

  She covered her mouth and widened her eyes briefly.

  “Oh, sorry.” She looked around automatically. “I forgot. I make for a terrible spy—Hey cutie!” she said, interrupting herself to greet Doozer. “Can I pet your puppy?” she said to Snow.

  Puppy? Snow swiveled her hood to look at Max.

  “Sure,” Max said. Then to Doozer, “Be still Doozer. Still.”

  Doozer froze. And Max indicated she could now pet him.

  The woman crouched down, tapping and petting Doozer. “Who’s a cute puppy! You are! That’s right.”

  Doozer chittered. Whether happily or murderously, Snow wasn’t sure.

  When the woman was done, she stood up and smiled, flashing her eyes. “I’m Drea. Duncan should be here,” she said and looked up to the top of the falls again, “soon? He was arguing with someone. I got bored.”

  Max’s eyes went wide. Snow and Max both looked up past the falling water to the cliff top. There was nothing to see, but Snow was now expecting a band of HOSaS enforcers armed, with sticks and attack crabs, to appear at any moment.

  “Who was he arguing with?” asked Snow.

  “What were they arguing about?” asked Max.

  “Oh, you know, politics.” Drea rolled her eyes. “He’s always arguing politics. Though he was a bit more shouty than usual…”

  A man that could be Duncan came into view at the top of the falls. His back was to them and he was being shoved by another man who looked angry.

  Snow ran but stopped with a jolt when Doozer’s leash yanked on her arm and wouldn’t budge, not without dragging Doozer, who was still frozen in place. Snow looked up again. Max was further along in his run to assist Duncan, but it seemed he no longer needed help. Other men appeared at the top of the cliff and were dragging the attacker off and away. Duncan shook his fist and gestured rudely at the attacker, then turned and looked down at them. He waved good-naturedly and began his trek down the steps to meet them.

  Max stopped and was trying to look inconspicuous as he waited a couple of flights up. When Duncan arrived, Max questioned him. He must not have liked the answers he was getting because he started talking more and more with his arms. He gestured up towards the cliff top and then threw his arms down. The pair walked back down to the bottom steps. Max was shaking his head.

  “I’m sorry,” said Duncan when they arrived.

  “Should we be leaving now?” asked Snow. She pulled on Doozer’s leash again, trying to give him a jump start. Max made a guttural vocalization. The little crab broke his statue routine. He scuttled over to Snow, rubbed his fur on her legs and bonked his shell on her knee.

  “No,” said Duncan, “It was nothing. I was just—”

  Max said, “Drawing attention…”

  “There was a Soldarian. Preaching his nonsense, “ Duncan said, as though it needed no more explanation.

  “Oooh. A Soldarian…” Max said, taking the words and sarcasm right from Snow’s mouth.

  “I told you. It’s politics. And not the good kind,” Drea said.

  “He seemed pretty mad,” Snow said, “Like murder Duncan mad. Toss Duncan from the falls mad.”

  “Well, I told him exactly what sort of fool he was. And right in front of his coworkers,” Duncan said, pleased with himself, “But as for drawing attention, they were brought to the topic by a certain cover of a certain newspaper. Seen it?”

  “We didn’t ask for our picture to be taken, Duncan,” Max said.

  “Ya!” Snow said.

  “Nevertheless they were talking about ‘The First People’ and that Soldarian leapt at the chance to spread his ignorant version of history.”

  “What does that have to do with them?” Drea asked, then said directly to Doozer, “Oh, is it you little cutie cutes critter bug? Are you a first person? Yes, you are. Yes, you are!” she said to Doozer, who scuttled behind Snow chittering then looked to Max, possibly for a kill order.

  “Drea, if you please,” Duncan said, pointing to the top of the stair.

  “Ech. Fine, I’ll stand watch,” she said, but smiled when she waved bye in turn to Max, Snow and at length, Doozer. “Bye you little heart snatcher.” She made her way up the stair.

  Max made a face and his hand went to his heart. Snow too thought back to their first—second?—meeting when his heart was nearly snatched by a crab.

  “She’s nice,” Snow said.

  “I know what you’re thinking…” said Duncan, “Can I trust her to do her job? Yes, actually. She’s a talented researcher. But more importantly can I trust her not to betray me? Or you? The answer is… probably.”

  “That’s good to hear, Duncan,” Max said, hurrying things along.

  Duncan lifted a finger as he seemed to remember something. He reached into his jacket, and pulled out an envelope which he held out to Max.

  “This came for you some time ago. I picked it up from home.”

  Max took the envelope.

  “It’s from HOSaS. Paperwork I guess, for the survey they’re trying to stop…” Duncan said.

  Max put it in his jacket.

  “This does bring me back to our battle with HOSaS, Your father and I. Though, ultimately, we failed.” Duncan was frowning but then smiled again. “But it felt at times like victory. We’d dug such a deep hole for ourselves, keeping our necks up and out of it was a sort of win. Even if we were… are, still children. I miss your father…”

  Max looked to be at a loss for words. “Well, we are all still children here,” Max said weakly.

  “Ha, yes,” Duncan said and pointed to the top of the falls towards Drea who was just reaching the top, “She is the only adult among us.”

  “Wait. I’m not a child…” Snow said.

  Max looked at her uncertainly. “You are… until you complete your survey,” Max said.

  “Hmmm… I don’t remember but I think… Yep, already did mine…” She put her hand into the hood and onto her chin as though thinking deep, “Yes. Beep boop bip beep boop. There it is, I have accessed the relevant memory. I definitely did my survey and I am definitely an adult.”

  “Do you remember anything else? Like say, where we all come from? Your former name? The taste of apple pie?” Max asked.

  “Mmmmm. Nope. Just the survey thing,” she said. “So… children. What’s our next move?”

  Duncan filled them in on all the information he’d dug up or dusted off. It was mostly very sketchy, but when pieced together it confirmed that HOSaS was indeed interested in Max, and that they were at least trying to be covert about it. The most convincing bit came from Duncan himself, who’d been asked odd, pointed questions by the orphanage coordinator, Chendrah. The woman that Max and his fellow orphans usually referred to as ‘Battleship’.

  “I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful. Given more time I’m sure I could dig up something…” Duncan said, “But really you’re best off getting to New York as quickly as possible.”

  Snow said, “We already have our tic—”

  “No. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know,” he said.

  Snow said, “So about Soldar—”

  Max cut the question off with a swiping hand gesture to his own throat.

  They said goodbye to Duncan, and waved bye to Drea who was at the top of the stairs, looking down at them instead of watching for either enemy agents, or angry Soldarians.

  Snow looked at Max, beaming a question to him non-verbally.

  “What?”

  “Story time? Soldarians.”

  “Right. It’s not much of a story. Soldarians think we were sent h
ere as soldiers, to fight some great evil. That is their answer to The Question. But it’s more like a club than a cult. They drink and party,” Max said.

  “There’s no story?” Snow said, disappointed.

  “It’s not like a real… theory. More like a conspiracy theory. Without the conspiracy.”

  “So why didn’t you just let him tell me then?” she said.

  “We don’t have an hour for his short version.”

  Chapter 25

  They made a brief stop to buy more clothes. The article on the cover of the newspaper suggested to Max that they should not wear the same outfits every day, not if they wished to make it harder for spies and newshounds to spot them. And in any case, neither of them wanted to ever wear Max’s work clothes again. While they were at it they also bought a carrier to safely cart their Doozer during the next leg of the journey which, unsurprisingly, would not permit free ranging pets on board.

  As Max was paying for their goods, Snow appeared suddenly with a wide-eyed grin and an additional purchase. A teensy little top hat. Before Max had even received change for his payment, Snow had already placed the hat on Doozer’s head. And Doozer had already removed it, stuffing it into his mouth. He soon spat it out again, but not before giving it a thorough shredding.

  The salesman’s expression said that that had gone pretty much as expected. Then he asked if they would like to buy another small hat. Snow said that Doozer had spoken. And that no, they did not need another small hat.

  They quickly changed clothes at the inn, packed their things, and headed off straightaway to catch their flight. A small bar near the terminal had a street patio where they sat waiting for their flight’s departure time. Doozer, stuffed into his travel box beneath the table, chittered his complaints and clawed pathetically at their legs to get some attention. Snow was wearing a new pink suit, which she’d been certain would make her stand out more than ever. But pink was a popular color, and the suit drew no undue attention. Max wore a green suit and sported a new beret to replace the one he’d lost in the crowd.