And Snow was so happy to see him that she could kiss him. She took a short step to close the distance and leapt on him, hooking her legs around him, and kissing his dirty lips. He kissed back, squeezing her to him, and Snow suddenly felt foolish for not having done this before now.
Someone made a coughing noise, in an attempt to interrupt.
Snow ignored them. This was a kiss that was long overdue, and Snow felt no guilt at prioritizing make-out time over whatever this meeting was supposed to be about.
Snow broke their liplock first, “I missed you a bit.”
“I missed you as well,” Max said.
The man at the end of the table was rolling his eyes. Snow couldn’t see his eyes rolling, she was busy looking deep into Max’s eyes, but she had a sense for such things. She clambered down from Max and turned to look at the eye roller.
Contrary to her expectations, the man did not seem to have been bothered by their spontaneous make out session. Instead he looked at Snow as if she were a piece of a puzzle. A piece that vexed him, though in an impersonal way. Not as another interfering human, more like an out of place table or lamp.
“You are… Snow White, of course. I am Mortran Dailund,” said the man.
Mortran Dailund was the man Freenan had often spoken of, the man who’d formerly been in Freenan’s position as the HOSaS science coordinator of post survey studies and juvenile ascendancy. But he had moved on from that to a position as ‘full’ coordinator (whatever that meant) and, according to Freenan, he intended to soon move on from that high position to the highest position in that land, as coordinator prime.
“Taanaaur was just telling us the tale of his recent hunt. A rather exciting and exotic adventure, if a fruitless one,” Mortran said. It was a statement of fact, devoid of irrational judgment or disapproval. He gestured for Max and Snow to take a seat.
Max retook his seat and, with a glance of disapproval at the guards, Snow sat down beside him.
“Max has already told us his tale, so perhaps you would be willing to relate your version of events,” Mortran said.
“My version of events?” Snow said.
Mortran nodded encouragement.
“But you just said you heard it from Max, and I was with him the whole time,” Snow said. “I mean except when I was pooping. Or he was pooping.”
Mortran had no reaction to her talk of pooping but nodded in understanding. “But one never knows when their experience will vary from another’s,” he said.
Snow didn’t know what information he wanted, but she only knew that she didn’t want him to have it.
“I had a deal—” Snow said and stopped. The deal had been completed, on their end at least.
Mortran indicated, with the barest nod, and possibly an eye raise, that he had already arrived at the conclusion that she was only now just reaching.
Max had actually been delivered. So now it was time for answers.
“My deal was with Freenan,” Snow said.
Between the weird kidnapping, all the guards, and the way Freenan had spoken of him, Snow was reluctant to tell this Mortran guy anything.
“Technically, that’s true,” Mortran said.
There was no tangible menace behind his words at all, nothing for Snow to pin her feelings on. But she felt menaced nonetheless.
“But in practical terms, your deal was with me,” Mortran said. “Coordinator Freenan is no longer relevant to these proceedings.” A slight lift of his chin asked a question of her, “Do you understand?”
Her own expression said that she did understand, though she hoped that it also said that she did not accept it. Or did she? She certainly didn’t like it. But what could Freenan do about the situation? He hadn’t been able to stop her being taken to this place in the first place, despite his lack of approval. So perhaps she had accepted it after all.
“I don’t like it,” Snow said. “What do you want, then?”
“I have no wish to renegotiate,” Mortran said, “You supply me with the details necessary for full access to the Core, and the two of you will become free citizens of Tawnee. It is that simple.”
And there it was. The deal on the table. And it was a great bargain. If it was on the level.
“If all you want is the login information, why all this rigmarole? Why drag me away from the deal I was comfortable with?” Snow said. “I mean if it’s all the same to you.”
Mortran’s face said that that wasn’t true.
Snow didn’t see how it was any different. Unless… “You don’t think he’ll hand it over to you?”
Mortran’s face said that that was not it. Thankfully, he elaborated.
“I don’t know what is left for us to find in the Core. Until I do, I won’t know if I want anyone else to see it. Even a loyal coordinator such as Freenan.”
“But I know what it is,” Snow almost said, “and I can tell people.” Instead she said nothing. She was starting to think that the coordinator didn’t want the information at all.
Mortran gave a tiny nod. “You know, I once visited the True North. It’s as much your homeland as anywhere I suppose. It was quite some time ago, just more than twenty years as it happens,” Mortran said. He was looking down to the far end of the table now.
Max, who had up to this point hadn’t so much as nodded his head, was suddenly paying close attention. The killer, Taanaaur, was also suddenly looking more interested.
“I was a HOSaS coordinator then, a very junior one. It was my duty to oversee several young surveyors based in the north. In pursuit of my duties I came across a letter from a pair of surveyors in process. They had chosen to survey an area of the True North.”
Max visibly paled but didn’t move or even twitch a muscle.
“It was a very rare selection for perhaps obvious reasons,” said Mortran. “The True North is of course a cold and dangerous place. But it has also always been seen as a featureless region, with little of interest beyond the coastal fishery. So, you can imagine my surprise to find a letter reporting such an interesting find as a ritualized burial site, complete with ice crystal pillars, and a coffin in place, buried deep beneath the ice. Most curious of all, a fantastic display of lights would periodically bathe the site, announcing its position to all in the heavens.
“The two surveyors of course knew not what to make of it. But to me the answer was clear. Against all we knew, and all we could imagine, these two surveyors had found remains of the first people. It was a shocking revelation. And an unfortunate one for those two young explorers, as clearly they could not be allowed to bring their prize back into the world.”
Mortran was still speaking to the empty end of the table. Snow couldn’t see Max’s face, but he seemed to be staring holes right through Mortran. That Max wasn’t shooting, stabbing or in some other way putting physical holes into Mortran surprised Snow. Perhaps he first wanted to hear the whole story. To finally discover what had happened to his parents.
Snow placed her hand on Max’s shoulder, and he stiffened, but only for a moment. Then, without breaking his death stare, he took Snow’s hand in his and gave it a short squeeze. Then a long one.
“I used what influence I had, which even then was not inconsiderable,” Mortran said, still speaking matter-of-factly, seemingly without boast. “I flew to the site directly, arriving before the excavation had been completed. I explained things to the surveyors, but they did not understand, and would not agree to my terms. Really, their fates had been sealed the moment they’d stumbled upon the burial site. Though even I was only just realizing that fact.”
“And you what? Just left the site as it was? Left the pod in place?” Snow said.
Mortran looked at her. “No. Of course not. I returned here with the… pod. But I understand your confusion. Because I made a similar error. A terrible error. You see… I too assumed there to be only one pod in the ice. Indeed, it never occurred to me that there might be others. If it had I would have scoured the ice for them. You Snow White, would
have been collected long ago. Circumstances and sympathies would have been different. If you’d been woken in Tawnee, you would of course have been perfectly happy to work with those people who’d revived you from the ice. The two young surveyors would have been given a more fitting burial, and so I would never have hired an assassin to have Max killed, to keep him from discovering their remains. For the same reason, Taanaaur here would not be in this pitiful state, having never been pitted against yourself and the surprisingly formidable Max. What’s more, I would never have hired outside help, had I any inclination there would be more than human remains to be discovered.”
Mortran continued staring at the killer in silence.
“Well what happened with the other pod?” Snow said, squeezing Max’s hand. “Was there someone inside?”
“Oh yes. Though he was not like you. His time in the pod had destroyed more than his memories. His mind had been shattered, he could do little more than gibber and drool,” Mortran said. He lifted from his lap the long rifle that belonged to the killer and pulled on its lever. Twice.
Max squeezed Snow’s hand vigorously.
“Porrit, open the window will you, it has become quite stuffy in here,” Mortran said.
He wasn’t wrong, it was a bit stuffy. Porrit, one of the guards, opened the window. A fresh breeze flowed into the room, carrying with it the pleasant scent of the swamp, and the hum of the bustling city far below.
Mortran raised the rifle and pointed it at the killer.
“You should never have come here,” he said.
With a raise of his eyebrows and a nod of his head, the killer silently agreed. But he didn’t move.
Mortran squeezed the trigger and the rifle let out a deafening bark.
There was a great commotion from the guards, as they quickly drew their own weapons. For the briefest moment, Snow thought they might be planning to arrest Coordinator Mortran, but instead they were closing on the killer’s seat. A seat that was empty.
Porrit fired his pistol into the space near the chair, as did the other guard already on the killer’s side of the table. Another guard slid across the top of the smooth white shell table to join in on the hunt.
Max and Snow stood as one and moved towards the door.
“Don’t even think about it,” said the voice of the fourth guard behind them.
Brandishing his pistol, he backed them towards the empty far end of the table.
One of the other guards, not Porrit, disappeared under the table suddenly. A moment later another shot rang out and Porrit fell to the ground with a cry, leaving a splatter of blood across the window and white wall beside.
Hearing his compatriot call out, the one remaining guard on the door stepped back, away from Max and Snow, and turned his head to the battle on the other side of the table. The first guard to go down had not yet arisen, and neither had Porrit. The door guard took another step away from Max and Snow.
“Sir?” he said, yelling to be heard above the ring that was in everyone’s ears.
“Kill them,” Mortran said.
The man’s face hardened, and he pointed the pistol directly at Max.
“Hey!” Snow said.
She was about to add, ‘Don’t shoot my boyfriend!” when the guard fell sideways, his leg bent in with the killer’s foot in the guard’s knee. Snow’s lips were curling in a smile of relief when a small hole appeared in the guard’s face, followed immediately by a large gout of red out the other side of his head. A moment later and the killer was gone again, taking the guard’s pistol with him.
Max dropped to the floor and crawled a short way under the table. Snow, thinking this a great idea, followed suit and saw what he was after. For some reason, the killer had left behind another pistol when he took that of the door guard he’d just killed, perhaps because it was already loaded. Loading would be difficult one-handed, as the killer seemed to be. Max picked up the pistol and, after checking its state of charge, pulled its lever twice. He turned to look at Snow and shrugged, comically crammed under the table.
She looked around from relative safety beneath the table. Her view to Mortran was blocked by a broad flat shell surface that functioned as legs to hold the table off the floor, one on each end. But she could see well enough to count the downed guards, and the downed guards numbered four. The killer had taken out the lot of them, perhaps while Mortran had been pronouncing Max and Snow’s death sentences. At first though, she did not see the killer. Then he sprang from under the table, pistol aimed.
There was a pair of reports, as two weapons fired.
“If you move I will kill you. I will kill you dead,” Max said.
Snow turned to find that Max too had left the cover of the table. She stood up, and found Max approaching an uninjured Coordinator Mortran.
“Place the rifle on the table. Now,” Max said, sounding more angry than nervous.
Snow wondered if having a pistol in your hands might have the effect of turning fear into fury.
Mortran, emotionless as ever, placed the weapon on the table, and watched Max. Probably wondering if Max was capable of following through on his threat. The question had crossed Snow’s mind as well.
Snow stepped forward to grab the rifle and made what she only then realized was a very stupid mistake, by crossing between Max’s pistol and his target.
Mortran reacted quickly reaching out to take Snow hostage. Out of nowhere, Snow’s fist shot up, connecting with Mortran’s chin, knocking him out cold. She gave him a kick to the ribs to make sure he wasn’t faking it, then picked up the rifle. It was then that she saw the killer gazing limply at Max.
He coughed. A mouthful of blood dribbled over his lips and down his chin. A burbling bubble of blood popped as he opened his mouth to speak.
“Monster bite me in half… and you escape,” he said, and smiled as though that was funny.
Then he died. Probably.
Chapter 57
“Won’t this take us to the roof?” Max said.
“Yes,” Snow said and continued headlong up another flight of stairs.
“But you said we needed to get back to the Core…” Max said.
“Yes,” Snow said, in a patient tone that suggested that, though she thought him stupid, she still liked him.
“So, the Core is on the roof?” Max said. “I didn’t see it there when we arrived.”
“Oooh,” Snow said, “No. This isn’t the Core. This is Tawkileest Tower. The tallest building in the world, and the Tawnee seat of government.”
She bounded up another flight of stairs. Max wanted to stop and demand to know how climbing the tallest building in the world was helpful at this moment, but the armed guards a flight below kept him moving.
Halfway up the flight, a door opened on the next landing. A black-suited guard rushed through, a pistol raised towards Snow. Against the will of his burning legs, Max made to sprint the remaining distance.
Snow swung the rifle into the man’s arm, popping his gun arm up and momentarily removing her from the pistol’s sights. She punched the man in the stomach, and he bent forward with a groan. She kneed him in the face, which brought him to standing once more, but only for a moment while she spun to kick him down the stairwell, forcing Max to dodge sideways to avoid being dragged to the bottom with the guard.
A collective ‘oof’ sounded from the bottom of the stairs and Max looked to find that the other guards had arrived just in time to join with their companion on the floor. The man’s pistol rolled down the steps after him, clattering on each, and so even as he returned to climbing the stairs, Max instinctively made himself small in anticipation of the pistol going off, and jarred his wounded shoulder once more. Whether despite his anticipation, or because of it, Max cringed to the floor at the top of the step when the expected shot cracked off, sending a deafening reverberation through the narrow confines of the stairwell.
Snow grabbed Max by the scruff of his jacket and dragged him away from the edge of the stair as more shots were fi
red by the guards below, still half-buried under the limp body of their compatriot.
Together Max and Snow hurried up what turned out to be the last flight of stairs to the roof. Snow flung the door leading to the landing pad and wide carried on out into the bright daylight with the rifle raised. But there were no guards to greet them. The AT-5 sat in the center of the broad flat roof, and Draven stood at the foot of the aircraft’s loading ramp.
“Snow? Is something going on? I thought I heard shots—” Draven said, stopping as Max emerged from the doorway with his pistol raised.
Snow lowered her rifle.
“Ya, I don’t know. It’s some sort of coup or something,” Snow said, jogging towards the AT-5.
Max followed suit, lowering his pistol, jogging towards the ship, and leaving the stairway door to close on its own accord.
“The coordinator will be here soon. He’ll want a quick exit, so you better ready the ship for takeoff,” Snow said.
Draven looked between Max and Snow with a suspicious squint to his eyes.
“The ship is ready, of course,” Draven said, “But you’ll wait right there until the coordinator arrives—”
“Nope,” Snow said, raising the rifle again. “We’ll be boarding right now.”
“No,” Draven said, moving to block access to the ramp with his body, and reaching around to his lower back with his right hand. “You’ll wait until the coordinator gets—”
Snow fired the rifle, catching Draven in the meat of his right leg.
Draven fell onto the ramp. Howling in pain and clutching at his wounded leg, he rolled roughly from the ramp and onto the rooftop landing pad.
With pistol again raised, Max ran to the stricken man.
“No warning shot?” Max said.
“Huh?” Snow said, “I warning shot him in the leg.”
“On your belly!” Max said. “You heard the lady; you got your warning shot. You won’t get another.”
Starship Relic (Lost Colony Uprising Book 1) Page 25