by C B Williams
The click and hiss of sliding doors made her tense and turn as Max released her. “Ready for round two?” he asked.
She waggled the confiscated laser in her hand and nodded, preparing her mind.
“Into the fox’s lair we go,” Max said. “Cover me. I’m going in first.”
“Max!”
“Hush, Mouse. I’ll be fine. My wits and words will be all the weapons I’ll need.” He winked and strode toward the opening doorway before she could stop him.
The doors were large and ornate. She’d noticed them before. Instead of sliding into the wall from one side, they opened outward, toward them, from the middle.
As they opened, she saw a line of martials, all down on one knee and shoulder to shoulder. Their laser rifles were aimed at Max.
Max kept walking, hands up, as if bestowing a blessing rather than surrendering.
The martials lowered their weapons, one by one, looking at each other.
“What are you doing?” demanded a voice from the throne. “Kill him!”
“He’s unarmed,” one of the martials answered.
“I don’t care! Kill him!” shrieked the voice.
“Now, is that any way to greet a guest, Eaton?” Max called, ignoring the guards. “I’m not feeling very welcome.” He walked through the doors.
“Do it! Now!” Currington screamed.
The martial who had spoken took aim and fired.
Mouse sucked in her breath and darted forward, then ducked behind the doors for cover and aimed at the martial who had fired. Max was so close it was impossible for anyone to have missed. If Talamh’s definition of indestructible didn’t match her own, that martial would die. He would die, and she would make sure it was a long and painful death.
To his great delight, Max kept walking.
“Fool! You missed! Kill him!” Currington shrieked.
“You know you didn’t miss,” Max told the martial. “You can try again, but it won’t do any good. I’m indestructible.” He looked at the martials, who stared back. A few had risen to their feet. “I would love to spare your lives. Would you be so kind as to lower your weapons so I may do so? Twenty-five of your comrades have already given their lives for this tyrant. Please, don’t add to the bloodshed.”
Currington screamed profanities at his men.
The guards began to waver.
“Please,” Max said kindly. “Mouse is tired of killing.” He glanced behind and caught her eye. “But she will if I ask.”
He watched Mouse come from behind the door, the laser in one hand and a knife in the other. There were only eight martials. She might be wounded, but he knew she could take them. She’d just taken twenty-five, after all.
“Kill the woman! She’s just standing there, you buffoons!” Currington yelled, his face purple.
Mouse stood, poised, and stared at the guards.
“You would be doing us a great favor if you were to lower your weapons,” Max said. “My Mouse is a tiny, deadly weapon. Surely you’ve heard of her.”
The martial who had shot Max sighed. “I’m done here. I have a wife and a kid, and I see no reason to die for a madman.” He slowly set his laser on the floor and kicked it aside.
“I admire your reasoning capabilities. Work for me. I am not mad in the least.” He scanned the remaining armed men, looking each one in the eye. “Anyone else wishing to live and go home tonight?”
The others followed the first one’s lead, dropping their lasers and kicking them to the side.
“Excellent. Now please step aside. I have something I very much wish to do at this particular place and time.”
Currington swore while the martials stood aside, allowing Max to pass.
Max continued his slow procession down the long walkway toward the dais. He felt flickers of pleasure while he watched his enemy become more and more agitated.
“Buffoons! Fools! You are dead men! I promise you!” Currington bellowed, his eyes darting from the martials and back to Max.
“You’re wrong, Eaton,” Max said. “You’re the dead man.” He pulled out a laser from inside his coat. He watched Currington’s eyes widen.
“How dare you corrupt what I was trying to create?” he said, keeping his voice soft. “You are the fool. You are the buffoon. Had we worked hand in hand, we all would have profited, along with our planets. Prosperity is a very good thing, Eaton. And greed? Greed only gets you killed. Good-bye, Eaton. I’m sorry.” He raised the laser and took aim.
But before he could fire, a knife flew past him and embedded itself deeply into the heart of his nemesis.
Max watched the man’s eyes glaze over. As if in slow motion, Currington silently slumped forward and rolled off his throne, where he lay still on the dais.
Cold with fury, Max whirled around so he could see Mouse.
She stood quietly by the doorway, looking small and very tired.
“Why?” he hissed. “Why did you do that?”
Mouse flinched. “I never want you to feel what I have to feel,” she replied.
“You stole my revenge from me, Mouse.” He could barely speak, he was so livid. In the whole of his long life, he had never been so filled with such rage. “I trusted you, Mouse. I rarely trust anyone, but I trusted you. Yet you stole what was to be my revenge, like a common thief. It was my revenge! Mine!”
She flinched and turned away. “Still,” she said, “I’d do it again.” She disappeared around the doorway.
A martial cleared his throat, breaking the silence.
Max looked at him. “What.”
“S-sir,” the martial stuttered, keeping his gaze lowered.
“Speak up man, what do you want to say?”
“She did you a service, sir. The assassin. Killing a man is a heavy burden.”
His anger shattered. He knew that. Wasn’t it why Mouse had been suffering so? Crying out in her sleep while he lay there, helplessly watching her thrashing for fear of what might happen if he wakened her? Hadn’t she told him in so many little ways and gestures what a terrible burden killing was?
Mouse hadn’t robbed him of his revenge. On the contrary, she had saved him.
He hurled the laser as far away as possible.
It clattered against a wall and lay forgotten.
As quickly as his dignity allowed, he went after her. He found her pressed against the doorway where they hid before the final confrontation. Even a fool would realize how badly he had hurt her. He reached for her, turned her toward him. “Mouse.”
She resisted, turning head away so he couldn’t see her face and holding him off, arms straight, elbows locked.
It hurt.
But he’d hurt her more.
He grasped her by the wrists, held them together with one hand, and drew her into an embrace with the other. He knew she could have escaped easily if she wanted.
But she didn’t.
Her fighting spirit had fled. She merely stood, her forehead resting against his chest.
He dropped her hands and held her rigid body against him. “I’m sorry, Mouse. So very sorry,” he told her while he rocked her. “Please forgive me. I’ll never forgive myself, but you must forgive me. I couldn’t bear it if you don’t forgive me,” he said, realizing as he said the words that he really wouldn’t be able to bear it.
“Please, Mouse, please?” To his ears, it sounded like he was begging. But then he was, wasn’t he? He held her tighter and stroked her back, willing her to relax against him.
At last he felt her arms wrap around his waist. Oh, thank all the gods in all the heavens, he thought, but he dared not say it out loud. Instead he said, “I will never hurt you like that again. Never, ever, again. I promise you.”
She sighed and lifted her head to look at him. Her eyelashes were wet and stuck together. Her eyes looked brilliant and beautiful.
“Mouse?”
She nodded, and gave him a half-smile while she stepped back, swiping at her face and smearing the blood. “We’ve got some cl
eaning up to do,” she said.
Chapter 20
Cleaned and bandaged, Mouse stepped out of the building’s infirmary into a hum of activity. It never ceased to amaze her how ready and willing people were to do what Max asked them to do. It was truly a knack. It couldn’t be anything else.
Like Wren and her knack. Maybe that’s why Wren and Max had grown so close. They had been blessed with the same knack.
While Mouse waited to ask Max to use his knack to help find Wren’s whereabouts, she did her own investigating by detaining and asking every martial she could snag. They were busy, and harried, and she suspected the only reason they stopped was because of her greys. Unfortunately, the martials she asked were unaware of anyone from the colonizing vessel on Dock 4 being restrained or held prisoner.
It surprised her.
“Surely someone must know. Who were Currington’s favored advisors?” she always asked. She couldn’t remember how many times she asked that question. And how many times she got the same answer. Apparently all Currington’s favored advisors had gone to ground, disappeared into hiding after having erased all incriminating files.
Exhausted and disappointed, she sat on a bench in the main hall to brood. She knew she was brooding, but she was tired, and she hurt besides. Her many nicks and cuts were throbbing, since the pain inhibitors she took earlier had long since worn off. But the biggest energy drain was knowing it would still be several days before those advisors could be flushed out and captured. She prayed none jumped planet. She prayed Wren and the others were still all right.
She was so deep into her own thoughts it took her a moment to realize someone was calling her name. She turned to find Manabu heading in her direction. “Max has asked me to take you to our rooms. Told me to tell you this was going to take a while.”
If she had more energy, she would have argued. Instead she nodded and followed him out of the hustle and bustle.
“I’m destroying that ugly old government building where so much blood was shed. It will be a grandiose statement.” Max said, pausing in front of Mouse, hands behind his back.
Mouse looked up from where she sat curled on a sofa in their new home. It had a view of the rolling hills beyond the wall.
“We need one,” he continued. “A grandiose statement. I will give a speech…a grandiose one, of course.” He began rocking on his heels, looking quite pleased with himself.
“Of course,” Mouse agreed. “Very grandiose.”
“And that old building will come tumbling down. Nice and neat as you please. And in its place…” he looked at her, one heavy brow arched.
“And in its place?” Mouse prompted and laughed. It felt good to laugh. She finally had a reason. Not only was the city of Talamh eagerly embracing Max as the head of their new government, but they were open to the idea of negotiating with the true people of Talamh.
It was early days, Max had reminded her, and he’d only made a few probing inquiries with people he already knew, but he felt positive that within a year or two they would make significant progress.
But the best news was the martials, now Max’s martials, had apprehended one of Eaton Currington’s top officials. By tomorrow, Max informed her, Mouse should know were Wren and the others were being held.
Max still waited for her full attention, his expression suffused with excitement. He reminded her of a child presenting a gift he had made himself. “And in its place?” she prompted again.
“And in its place will be…this.” From behind his back he pulled out and unfurled a building design. It was one of hers. One of the ones she’d been working on during their voyage from Spur. “This is one of my favorites, My Mouse. It’s intricate and complex, with such extraordinary grace. And I want you to oversee the entire project”
She put her hand to her mouth and swallowed. “Really?” she whispered. “You want me to be in charge?”
“I hope you will say yes.” He grew serious. “It means you wouldn’t be returning to Spur for a long while. Are you willing?”
She knew he was studying her, trying to read her while she thought things through. She ached for her home planet. But other than that? There wasn’t much to go home to. Flick no longer needed her. Little Brother had Ingot. And, she finally admitted to herself, there would be no Max back on Spur.
After his apology on the day Eaton died, something shifted. She didn’t know what, but it seemed like something good, something worth sticking around and waiting to find out about. She looked up at him. Something released and unfurled from deep inside her. Something new and hopeful. She sat with it, unsure what to call this new feeling.
“Mouse,” Max said more softly. “You up for it? I can’t read your mind.”
“If I stay, may I have a sniffer?”
“You know how I feel about those beasts.”
“I do. May I have a sniffer?”
“Of course you may have a sniffer. Now, are you staying?”
She nodded and swiped at her cheek, surprised to find tears there. “Yes. Yes, I am. I just don’t quite know what to say.”
He grinned down at her, rubbing his hands together the way he always did when his plans fell into place. “Yes is perfect. We begin tomorrow.”
Max gave his grandiose speech within the walls of the old government building while facing the sweeping staircase, a staircase that only two weeks ago had been red with blood. The occupants, his new administration—officials and clerks—lined the stairwells, rows of heads peaking over the railings on all five floors. The air was festive, crackling with anticipation.
Mouse joined him when he introduced her as the project director for the construction of their new government building. “But to build a new building, we need to destroy the old, thus erasing the memory of so much unpleasantness that took place here,” he said. “Therefore, please gather your belongings and vacate the premises. Systems have been backed up, removed and safely stored. All you need do is remove your personal belongings and meet me outside.” He bowed to the applause and watched while people returned to their offices to gather what they wanted, and begin the exodus.
He turned to Mouse. “That went well, don’t you think?”
“Very grandiose.”
“And have we discovered Wren’s whereabouts?”
She stifled her nagging worry. Today was not a day to be gloomy. “No, but we will. I’m going to question Belkin now.” She touched his arm. “You don’t mind that I may not be back in time for your grandiose demolition?”
Max shook his head. “I know how long you’ve been waiting. You go take care of this. I’m sorry the man’s being so uncooperative.”
“Your new examiners haven’t been trained properly, is all. When you told them to question him without hurting him, I think they took you literally.” She looked at him soberly. “There are ways to make someone talk without inflicting any permanent damage.”
Max grimaced. “My desire is to eliminate such nasty methods.” He touched her shoulder. “Hopefully it won’t take long and you can return in time for the festivities. We’re on the clock. Charges are already set. As soon as the upper three floors are cleared, we’ll begin a countdown.”
She paused again. “Why so fast? Why not wait until you’re certain the building is cleared?”
He spread his arms and bowed. “Part of the grandiose statement. Don’t worry. Martials are sweeping the floors and taking head counts. It’s all under control. Now go get your information.”
She returned a short while later feeling triumphant. She knew where Wren was. At last!
Belkin had been easy to break. When she arrived, he was already tired, worn out, and frightened. She supposed she had Currington to thank for how easy it was. He hadn’t yet learned Max’s regime relied on paid information. All she needed to do was apply two joint manipulation techniques to his fingers and he was ready to tell her everything. More than she needed at the moment. As soon as she found out where Wren was, she turned the questioning back over to the mart
ials.
It took her a moment to locate Max. He was standing high on a podium behind rows of bleachers already filling with people who’d filed out of the condemned building.
He took one look at her face and smiled. “You found Wren.”
She nodded. “They’re in the cells where political prisoners are held for questioning. And where do you suppose that is?” She paused for effect.
“I have no idea,” Max replied.
She pointed at the government building. “In the basement of that very building.” She laughed. “All this time, they’ve been right underneath our very feet.”
His eyebrows flew up. “I had no idea there was even a holding cell in that building. Thought it was purely administrative. Well done, Mouse.” Max turned toward the closest pair of martials. “Take Mouse to where you’re holding the prisoners.” He watched her face as he spoke, and smiled into her eyes. “Some of her friends are being held there, and she’s been waiting a long time to greet them.”
He turned back to Mouse, frowning. “We’re going to have to change their uniforms, don’t you think, Mouse? Navy blue is so overused. Perhaps a rich maroon or a khaki.”
“Not now, Max, please.”
The martials glanced at each other and shuffled their feet. “Sir? I believe the prisoners are still in that building,” one said, pointing at government building on the verge of demolition while the other nodded.
“I beg your pardon?” Max said, “Surely I didn’t just hear you say the prisoners are still in the building.”
They nodded. “I’m sorry, sir, no order was given to remove the prisoners. We believed you wanted them to remain within.”
Max shook his head, “No. No.” His voice rose. “That’s not my way. Haven’t you learned that by now? Had I known there were prisoners in there, I would have ordered them out!”
“Nobody thought to remove the prisoners?” Mouse gasped, her voice rising too. “You’re kidding me.” She looked at Max. “Wren’s in there. I’m getting her out.”
“Mouse! No! Don’t.”