by J. M. Page
Just as he reached the top of the staircase, his communicator beeped.
The Queen wanted an update, he was sure of it. But there was nothing to tell her. She'd already headed them off at the pass and ruined their next course of action. All that was left now was her need to destroy the Princess and cut off the resistance at the knees.
Upstairs, he found Snow's forgotten meal, their empty glasses of wine, and he sighed, cleaning it all up. He'd worn his heart on his sleeve and it still remained there, though now instead of being a welcome sight, it lingered like an embarrassing stain. Evidence that he'd misread the situation — and the Princess — entirely.
Snow didn't come out of the basement for days. Hunter kept his routine, hunting for food she wouldn't eat and chopping wood for a fire that wouldn't warm her. He brought her meals at least twice a day. Usually, he'd come back to find it exactly where he left it, untouched. He remarked about it once and from then on it seemed she attempted to at least move the plate and push the food around, though Hunter still suspected none of it was disappearing.
"You have to take a break," he said on the fourth day. "You need sleep, Snow."
Her eyes were bloodshot, ringed with dark circles, the weight of each deceased contact dragging those bags further down.
She shrugged with one shoulder. "I don't sleep much anyway," she said.
He gnashed his teeth together and grabbed her chair by the arm, swinging it around so she was forced to face him.
"You need to rest. If you make contact with someone at this point you're going to be too delirious to know what's going on."
Her eyes sparkled when she met his gaze and he realized she was on the verge of tears. "I can't stop," she whispered. "There has to be someone she hasn't killed or forced into hiding." That last bit was wishful thinking, but he wouldn't disabuse her of the small solace she found in thinking they could still be alive.
"I'm sure there is," Hunter said, taking her hands in his. "But you're in no state to be planning a coup, Princess."
His eyes drifted to the screen, snowy with static, and wondered how many dead bodies she'd seen in the last few days.
Her gaze followed his. "We can't be the only ones, can we?" She pulled up the list again. "There are only three names left." The defeat in her words struck Hunter like a physical blow to the chest.
"There's always the resistance," he said, squeezing her hands. He was sure at this point that she didn't have any contacts within the organization. And keeping that knowledge from the Queen was a death sentence for him. He rubbed one hand over his chest, trying to ease the knot of pain there. Helping Snow make contact with the resistance would be even worse. But what was worse than dead? More dead?
At least with her, he had a shot.
She sniffled and nodded. Seeing her so weak and broken shattered something inside him. "I've heard about them... Are they really out there?"
The ceiling rumbled with a great crash and they both looked up, a terrible sense of dread settling into the room.
Chapter Eleven
Snow
"What was that?" Snow asked, her sleep-deprived brain struggling to make connections.
"I don't know," Hunter said, his voice tight, eyes trained with laser focus on the top of the spiral staircase above. "Stay here, I'll go check it out. Maybe Robbie fell or something."
She waited until he was about halfway up the staircase to start following him. Stay here. Why would she do a thing like that?
Hunter said something to Robbie that she couldn't quite make out, but when she got to the top of the stairs, they were still there, arguing.
"Stay here," Hunter said to the android.
"There is a threat to the Princess, I must destroy it."
"The Princess needs you to stay here and protect her. I'll check out the threat."
"What threat?" Snow asked from the closet door.
"Didn't I tell you to stay down there?" Hunter raved.
Snow's hands went to her hips, her lips pursed, a litany of just what she thought about his orders on the tip of her tongue when another explosion wracked the cottage, shaking the walls on their foundation. Snow reached out, steadying herself against the wall.
Robbie and Hunter both made a dash for the bedroom door, arriving at the same time, both trying to squeeze through it.
"Just guard her, you useless lump of rust!"
All at once, they broke through the door and spilled out into the hallway, Snow hot on their trail.
The front room looked like a small hurricane had blown through, books scattered on the floor, curios and glassware broken and glittering in the light from shattered windows.
A metal ball the size of Snow's fist careened through the broken window and immediately began spitting out smoke. It burned her eyes and throat, her lungs on fire instantly struggling for breath. She coughed and coughed, but the more she tried to breathe, the worse it got.
"I think we've been found, Princess!" Hunter shouted through their sputtering.
Robbie went to the window, his arm transforming into that deadly weapon he'd aimed at Hunter so many days ago.
The cottage shook as another blast hit them and Snow fell to her knees.
"I don't know how this whole place hasn't crumbled yet, but we need to get out of here," Hunter said.
Snow found it easier to breathe on the ground, filling her lungs with clean air that expelled the burning, choking smoke. If she could just stay down there a little longer...
"The shields have been compromised," Robbie announced.
Hunter reached down and yanked on Snow's arm. "Come on, that's our cue!"
"The contacts!" she gasped, her eyes stinging and blurry from tears.
"We have to go, Snow!" Hunter didn't wait for her to comply. He heaved her up to her feet and dragged her to another window. "Robbie, cover us!"
"We can't leave him!" she cried, finally latching on to Hunter's plan.
But he refused to argue with her, throwing his weight into the window, smashing the unbroken panes. "Stay close and don't look back," he said.
"But—"
Hunter took her by the shoulders and shook her. "I'm serious, Snow. Listen to me."
The cottage jolted again, but this time it couldn't bear the brunt of the blow and a gaping, smoldering hole appeared where the door had been. Hunter climbed out of the window first, smoke billowing after him. Robbie moved to block the door, firing at enemies outside the door she couldn't see.
Her mother's things, the books, the diaries, the cozy touches that had closed the gap of time, were laid to waste. Fire spread and thick black smoke mingled with the caustic chemical fog that had burned her throat. Her eyes stung with real tears as Hunter tugged on her arm.
Robbie staggered backwards, his chest sparking.
Snow's throat tightened, but there was no time to react. Hunter yanked on her again and she went tumbling through the window. He didn't even give her a chance to get her bearings before he pulled her to her feet and set off at a run into the woods.
Just as they reached the nearby ship, another explosion rippled through the ground and Snow went flying, colliding with Hunter's back, both of them toppling to the earth.
Hunter didn't try to use words to coax her this time. He scooped her into his arms and carried her up the stairs to the ship, her whole body limp. It all felt like a dream.
No; a nightmare.
When was she going to wake up?
Maybe Hunter was right. Maybe she should give up the search to sleep some. She'd been pushing herself too hard. That’s all this was. Exhaustion and hallucinations.
He deposited her in one of the crew seats and wasted no time firing up the engines.
"I hope you're holding them off Robbie," Hunter muttered as the ship lurched from the ground and shot toward the sky.
Snow felt the ship moving, but she didn't dare look out the window. She couldn't bear to see her mother's cottage reduced to rubble. Cinders and ashes. All those memories gone...
>
"Hey," Hunter said, leaving the captain's chair to crouch next to her. His hand cupped her jaw and brought her eyes to his. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"
He lifted her arms, and Snow felt heavy and limp as he examined her for injuries.
"It's okay. We got away," he said, his voice so gentle it made Snow's chest tighten.
It wasn't okay. It would never be okay. Everything she loved, everything she cared about, always had a way of being destroyed. Her mother, her father, Plick and their hideaway. Now the cottage and Robbie...
What would be next?
Who would be next?
Hunter squeezed her hand and pulled a lever on the side of her seat. It flopped backwards, her with it. "Why don't you just lay back? I'll figure out somewhere for us to go and regroup."
She stared at the ceiling of the ship. The neat grid of metal panels welded and riveted together. She traced the lines with her eyes and tried to count the rivets, but kept losing focus. The lines swam and blurred until the image of the cottage returned, its windows ablaze, smoke pouring from all sides, Robbie standing resolute, executing his prime directive...
She didn't know how long she stayed like that. Time had no meaning, no weight in a world where her memories pressed on her and replayed over and over without pause. Her escape from the palace, Plick tugging her through dank hidden passages underground, smoke nipping at their heels; years later, coming back to their hideaway in the woods to find Plick cold and stiff. The memories all converged and melded until she was numb with the weight of them all. Cold and deadened with the knowledge that it was all her fault.
Maybe she drifted off at some point. She couldn't be sure. The rivets of the ceiling blurred together and everything went hazy until Hunter was at her side again, nudging her.
"Here, drink this," he said, handing her a water.
She didn't move and he pushed it closer to her. The glass hung between them, the way so many things seemed to, and finally, the pressure of his intent gaze made her take it from him.
The glass was cold in her hand and her eyes drifted back toward the ceiling.
"Come on, Snow, drink the damn water."
Maybe if she did, he'd leave her alone.
It was colder going down than it was in her hand, reminding her of the empty hollowness inside as it was all filled with ice.
"Do you wanna talk about it?" Hunter asked.
She managed to look at him and take another drink of water, almost welcoming the frigid burn as it worked down her esophagus. She didn't manage to answer him.
Hunter sighed and dropped his head to his hands. "I know this is a setback, but we can recover. We'll regroup and make a plan. It'll be okay."
There was a laugh, then another. It was coming from her. She was the one laughing.
"What's the point? What chance do I have?" She laughed, each breath painful until her chest heaved with sobs.
Hunter gathered her into his chest and stroked her hair, shushing her. "Come on, it's alright. It's not that hopeless," he said, but she could tell he didn't believe it. How could he?
"We had one thing to go on. It wasn't even a good thing, but even that's gone now." It was all gone. Every last remnant of her mother's life. Gone.
"Not exactly," he said, his hand disappearing from the back of her head. She pulled back from his chest, leaving her hand over the spot of his shirt soaked with her tears.
"What are you talking about?" She sniffled, the world coming into focus somewhat, no longer a blurry mirage over the taunting movie of her memories.
"I know you might be annoyed, but a good merchant never misses an opportunity and..." He dropped a chip into her hand and closed her fingers around it. "Your contacts. I hope one of them answers."
Her jaw dropped, the bite of the metal corners in her palm giving her striking clarity.
"You made a copy?" she asked, incredulous.
"You have every right to be angry—"
She shot upright, springing to her feet. "Angry? Hunter, this is our shot," she said, jamming the chip into the control panel. "I'm not angry... I could... I could kiss you! You might have saved us."
"Sure... If you want to, I wouldn't—"
The last three contacts appeared on the screen and Snow's fingers tingled as she typed in the details.
The first two, like so many before them, were disconnected and unavailable, but on the third and final contact — one without even a name — the call connected.
Static filled the screen and Snow slumped, Hunter's hand trailing up her spine in soothing circles. "It's okay, we'll find some—"
"Hello? Who is this? Who has this line?" A disgruntled voice broke through the static before the snow cleared from the screen and a blank stone wall appeared in its place.
"Hello?" the voice tried again.
Snow's throat closed up, her voice suddenly missing when she searched for it.
"Is this Konrad? It isn't funny. No one should have this line except—"
"My father," Snow croaked, her eyes wide and unblinking. She turned her head quickly to look to Hunter for confirmation. A quick nod from him told her all she needed to know. She wasn't imagining this. The voice wasn't a product of her over-wrought and traumatized brain.
A man slid into view, his gray eyes wide behind square spectacles. A bushy beard covered the lower half of his face and a curtain of silver-streaked brown hair surrounded his head. "Your father?" he whispered, his words barely audible over the sound of running water in the background.
She nodded and Hunter's grip closed on her shoulder for support. She wasn't sure she wanted him to be there, but was mildly relieved that he was. Doing this alone seemed impossible even though that had been her aim for so long.
"My father, the King," she said.
The man's bushy beard parted, his jaw dropping. "Snow?" he asked, his voice reverent, full of disbelief.
She nodded again. "Who are you?"
He burst into uproarious laughter. "My stars! The lost princess? Can we really be so lucky?"
"I'm not sure that's the word for it," Snow muttered.
"Did you not see the Summer Palace?" Hunter said, covering for her smoothly.
The man on the screen laughed again. "That was you? Of course it was you! We'd only dared to hope, but never thought... I have so many questions for you."
"We have questions of our own," Snow said. "But who are you, and how did you know my father?"
"Beaver," he said. "Your father and I met in the outlands. We had many lively discussions about the Empire and the direction it was headed. He was always willing to entertain viewpoints different from his own... I admired that. I'm sorry for his loss, he was a great man."
Snow dipped her head to acknowledge his condolences and met his eyes again. "Why did you remain in contact?"
Beaver shook his head. "We didn't. It wasn't until his new bride entered the picture that the King contacted me again. It seemed that he wasn't sure about her loyalties and wanted a network of trustworthy confidantes to hold sensitive information for him.”
“What kind of sensitive information?” she asked.
Beaver’s eyes flicked toward Hunter.
She turned and met Hunter’s eyes, a silent conversation being held in their gazes.
“Where do you want me to go?” he asked, throwing his arms wide. The ship didn’t offer any hiding places or privacy.
Instead of waiting for an answer from either of them, Hunter sat at the controls, his hands blurring over the console with practiced ease.
“There’s an outpost planet nearby,” he said. “We’ll land and re-stock and you can have a private conversation.”
Snow nodded, turning back to Beaver. “I’ll call you back when we arrive.”
“Until then,” he said before the screen faded out.
Snow slumped back into her seat, her mind swirling with everything. They’d finally made contact with someone and even better, he had information from her father!
“I can’t be
lieve it,” she said, trying without success to keep her smile at bay. A lot had happened in a short period of time, but this latest development was the first thing to give her real hope since they’d found the list of doomed contacts.
“Pretty unbelievable,” Hunter said, his flat tone sucking all the happiness out of Snow, wiping the smile from her face.
He held onto the controls with a white-knuckle grip, his eyes intently focused on the navigation panel.
“How far is it?” she asked.
“Should be less than an hour from here. We already passed the proximity marker.”
“Oh, good. I can’t wait to hear what information he has for us.”
“For you,” Hunter said, his jaw clenched.
“For us,” she corrected. Or was he hoping to be rid of her now that she’d made contact with the resistance? Was she their problem now? She’d thought that Hunter wanted to be a part of this. He’d fought against her trying to dismiss him every step of the way.
His fingers flexed on the steering column and the muscles in his jaw ticced, like he was chewing on the words he kept locked away.
“I think it was made perfectly clear that I’m not supposed to be privy to the information,” he said, bitterness edging into his tone.
“I don’t think that was—”
“It was,” Hunter spat, glaring at the navigation panel with such intensity that Snow thought it might just crack under the pressure.
“I’m sure he’s just cautious about who he trusts,” she said. She should be cautious too. She knew it, but still wanted to reassure Hunter for some reason.
When Hunter didn’t answer, she tried again. “I wouldn’t take it personally. He’s been hiding from the Queen for who knows how long. He’s probably a little paranoid.” More than a little. Plick’s reminder played more insistent than ever in her mind.
Trust no one.
“You don’t have to soothe my ego, Princess. He’s right. You shouldn’t trust me.”
Snow swallowed, her skin turning clammy and cold. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Hunter rolled his eyes, his grip so tight he might snap the steering column altogether. “Don’t insult either of us by feigning innocence. You’re too clever to trust anyone completely and I’m not stupid enough to believe otherwise. You’ve never trusted me and I don’t expect you to start now. There’s no need to apologize for it. It’s smart.”
