by C B Williams
“Hang on.”
The screen went dark, then flickered back to life, revealing her friend. “Wren!” Mouse exclaimed. “Wait. Your hair. What’s with everyone cutting their hair?”
Wren laughed and instantly Mouse’s heart lightened. “You like it?” She swung her head from side to side, her dark auburn hair, freed from its coil mats, swung in loose curls, skimming her shoulders. “Just got it done. This ship has everything! Can you imagine? But it was designed by UpperUppers, so there’s that. And it’s huge. Takes me nearly forty-five minutes to run its circumference. I’ve been exploring her. Reminds me a little of the tunnels back home in SubCity.” She grinned, “I’m rambling. To answer you, we all cleaned up our appearances. Thought we’d better look more regulated. Without the coilmats, I match my Talamh ident. Finally got this bird to fly. We’re officially on our way to Talamh.”
“How? I was told they weren’t built to fly. Just land safely.”
“True, that. But Grale knew something about modular ships, and we took her apart and rebuilt her in orbit. Was quite a project, but I think it was good. We had to work as a team, and it was past time for us to actually become one, although Aiko and Grale still have issues with each other. I thought I told you all about this. It’s been so long.”
Mouse shrugged. “Perhaps you told Flick.” Since Longwei had modified Eloch, enabling him to speak with all of the Sisters directly, calls between Mouse and the rest of the crew were less frequent. She sighed.
“Hey,” Wren said. “You okay?”
Mouse could never hide her feelings from Wren. Never wanted to. Wren was family. “Feeling a little left out,” she answered.
“Of course you are.” She was silent for a moment. “Talamh isn’t far from Spur,” she said, “Maybe a month? You think you could get away for a meetup? It would be our last chance to see each other before we head out to Vela Kentaurus.”
“I’m not sure.”
“Think about it. There’s time to meet. Grale and Aiko have a list a mile long. They don’t think we need all the modules for what we’re doing, so they’re planning to downsize, sell the modules we don’t want to miners so we can pay for the modifications we’re going to need. They’re estimating three months, if we’re lucky, before The Valiant’s ready for an intergalactic journey. The Valiant,” she repeated. “I didn’t even know what that word meant when Spider suggested it as a name for the ship. Had to look it up.”
“I thought you and Eloch came up with the name.”
Wren shook her head. “Nope. It was a group effort.”
Mouse grinned. “So what does it mean?”
“Boldly courageous.”
Mouse nodded. “Good name,” she said thoughtfully, then added, “Wren, Talamh may not be the picnic you think it is. Things are different without the centralized government.”
Wren nodded thoughtfully. “Good point. We should consult with Max. I’m sure trade routes are still open,” she mused.
“Max’s got his own problems. ’S why I called. Can you get to the Narrows?”
“Sure.” Gone was the light and friendly tone. Wren the KinLord gazed at her with serious grey eyes. “Hang on a sec.”
Mouse waited while Wren spoke quietly to whoever else was in the room. Since her head was turned, Mouse could easily study her friend’s profile. Without the coilmats, Wren appeared softer, more feminine. One would never guess she, too, had been an assassin. Still carried her knives, though, Mouse noticed. With her trained eye, she could see where three were tucked into the folds of the uniform Wren wore. Probably had more. At least one in her boot or strapped to her ankle. Mouse felt her own knife cradled in its sheath and strapped to her own ankle.
“Okay, Mouse,” Wren said. “We’re in the Narrows. Let’s hear what you’ve got to say.”
Quickly, succinctly, Mouse told Wren the recent events, from Max’s volunteering to help, to Skip becoming her “Ingot,” and finally the attempt on Max’s life using a trummer. Then she waited, watching emotions play across her friend’s features on the vid screen. She sat back and folded her arms, curious to hear what Wren had to say.
Finally Wren let out a slow whistle. “Does Flick know?”
“Not yet,” she snorted, “He may not if he doesn’t get back in time.” Mouse uncrossed her arms and leaned them on the table so she was closer to the vid screen. “I’m going with Max to The City, Wren. He needs a bodyguard. Skip’s trained to handle everything I’ve been doing. Does a better job than I did, in fact. So, we’ll be taking off any day now.”
“Want me to ask Eloch to contact Spur?”
“That’s not a bad idea. But make sure Flick knows Max wants to handle this his way. Says it’s his future and doesn’t really have anything to do with Spur and how he’s managing the City side of the mountains. Says it’s his empire that’s being attacked. His responsibility. Told me if Spur stepped in, he’d lose credibility.”
Wren nodded. “Be careful, Mouse.”
Mouse smiled. “Always am. Somebody I know drilled ‘Caution first’ into my brain.”
Wren returned her smile. “And hopefully all this will get wrapped up quickly and you can get back safely to Rubble. Or,” her smile broadened, “come to Talamh. Max has connections. He could get you there, and he’d owe you, so you wouldn’t even feel bad about asking for his help.”
Mouse swallowed. “We’ll see. I’d love to see you. I would. But Talamh is still about a month of space travel away. And a wormhole. I’m not as adventurous as you.”
Wren shielded her expression, but Mouse could still read the disappointment. “I understand. But...” She stopped herself. “Well, keep in touch. I’ll ask Eloch to inform Flick for you.”
Outside the room Little Brother let out a half-growl and chuffed.
Mouse glanced at the door. “Someone’s coming, Wren. I’d better wrap this up.”
Wren made a face. “Wish we had more time. Thanks for the call, my friend. It was good to see you. You’ll keep me informed about what’s going on, now, won’t you?”
“Of course, I’ll call soon if you’d like.”
Little Brother growled again and whined.
“I would like. Now we’re traveling, I’m easier to reach.” Wren waved. “Better go before Little Brother eats whoever’s there.”
Mouse laughed and disconnected.
It wasn’t that she missed the old days living in SubCity, Mouse thought as she headed for the door. What she missed was having her best friend only a few rooms away.
Three days later, they arrived on foot in the guise of two weary travelers, their belongings on their backs like so many others.
Max glanced over at Mouse and frowned. “What’s that grin for?” he asked as they slipped unnoticed through one of The City’s gates.
“Hmmm? Oh, I was thinking about what you said when I suggested this was the best way to get to The City without being noticed.”
His frowned deepened. “Because I didn’t want to dress up as a poor peddler? You still think it’s funny?”
She laughed again. “I do,” she said, and shrugged. “Can’t help myself.” Almost as an afterthought she reached out and snatched the skinny wrist of an undernourished pickpocket. “I wouldn’t do that if you want to keep your hand,” she said mildly while she twisted the wrist slightly before she let go.
Rubbing her wrist and scowling, the pickpocket darted into the crowds without a backward glance.
Max lifted a brow at her.
“I just wanted to scare her,” Mouse shot him a glance. “That shouldn’t be happening in this place anymore.”
“I agree. It should not. But it is. And there shouldn’t be this many people coming and going through the gates and into the mountains to forage for things to sell or trade. But they do. You can’t have everything perfect all at once, Mouse. And they are better off than they were before. SubCity no longer exists. Culling no longer exists. The rest will take time. Where are we going?”
“This way.” Sh
e led him through a maze of narrow streets lined with little shops with dingy awnings. Away from the gates, the streets were cleaner, people not as hurried as they went about their business. “But how can you not want to help them?”
“I am helping them. I’m thinking and planning, and not bandaging issues. It means some will suffer, but the majority will not.”
“Do you think that is why someone wants you dead? You’re taking too long?”
He shook his head. “Apparently you do, since you’ve hinted at this before. But no, I do not believe my enemy wishes to kill me because of poor leadership skills. When it all went down that day and Eloch had put everyone asleep…” he cast her a glance “…you remember?”
Mouse shuddered. “How could I forget? He terrified me that day.”
“Power can be terrifying,” Max agreed. “So they slept, and it was up to Spur to determine who awoke and who did not.”
Mouse nodded, remembering the mass graves dug for those who hadn’t reawakened. Everybody had to help before the corpses bloated and decayed in the suddenly warm weather. One day it was snowing. The next it was summer, with plants growing where none had ever grown before. Spur reclaiming Her realm. It was a terrifying, horrifying, yet awe-filled time. Mouse had been grateful she was able to leave The City so soon. “I am afraid of Spur as well.”
“Spur had reason to be angry. And Her anger is just. That’s my point. Those who remain because of Her actions would not hurt me. Eloch, as Spur’s Champion, chose me to rebuild The City. Nobody’s going to mess with that.”
Mouse stopped and turned to look up at him.
“What?”
“I just realized what a tremendous responsibility you had. There should have been panic. Riots. Vandalism. Yet because you took control in that way that you have, none of it happened.”
Max put a hand over his heart. “Why, little Country Mouse, are you admiring me?”
She felt her cheeks warm and cuffed him before resuming their walk. “So you don’t believe it’s someone from The City who’s the mastermind, and who convinced Ingot to have you killed.” She stopped. “Time to take off our cloaks. We’re entering nicer parts.”
“No, I believe it’s someone who wants to take over the empire I’ve created,” Max replied while he removed his cloak and stuffed it in her pack.
Without taking off her pack, she wriggled out of her own cloak and handed it to him. “Put this in, too, will you?” she asked.
As he did, she scooped up the pack he’d dropped to take off his cloak.
“Why do you think that?” she asked, handing him his pack.
“Because I’ve been focused on rebuilding The City, and haven’t been as diligent with my empire as I should have been. I’ve always had enemies, just as my enemies have enemies. As I said before, power is terrifying, and yet those who have it want to keep it.”
“So you’re terrified of power?”
“Me? Not so much.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s always been a game for me. I built my empire because I enjoy building empires and making money. I saw myself as a KinLord of the UpperUppers. Really enjoyed the power. But if I lost it today, I’d just build again, because that’s what I love doing. No, power isn’t terrifying to me. The more the better.” He looked at her. “Losing my life. That is what terrifies me. I’m not ready to die quite yet, Mouse.”
“Well, that’s where I come in. You won’t be dying quite yet, Max, I can promise you that. We’re here.”
“Here” was a townhouse at the end of a quiet and respectable-looking street close to The City’s center, but not too close. Inside, Max suspected he’d be able to see the spires where the Ring Colonizers once governed. Possibly even the spaceport.
Mouse punched in a code into the door lock. “Let’s hurry inside. We’ve been out in the streets long enough.”
The door opened to a flight of stairs. “Who lives below?” Max asked.
“Nobody. It’s storage.”
“That’s a lot of space for storage. You could store a whole shuttle in there.”
“It’s probably what’s in there, considering the owner of this place.”
“Who owns it?”
“Manabu. He lets me stay here when I need to.”
“Manabu?” Max mused, “Your pilot? It never occurred to me he’d own a place in The City.”
“It was his when he retired from the Colonizers. He still uses it when he shuttles back and forth. Should be well stocked.” She winked. “Manabu likes his spirits.”
At the top of the landing Mouse paused, slipped off her pack and handed it to Max. “You stay here while I check the rooms. Just in case.”
She didn’t have to explain what she meant.
Where he stood was a framed photograph of a cluster of stars. Max paused to gaze at it. For the thousandth time he wondered what it would be like to be among them. Would it be too much for him? All that airless space and him in a tiny spacecraft. Would he feel vulnerable? Helpless? Or would he feel free and expansive?
“We’re good,” Mouse called from the living space.
Max nodded. He looked once more at the picture, then followed the sound of Mouse’s voice.
The space was an open floor plan, its white walls covered with other photos of space. “He must miss it out there.”
Mouse reached for her pack. “Yeah, he does. Doesn’t talk about it, but you can hear the longing in his voice.”
“Know why he retired?”
“I asked Aiko once. She told me he drank too much. She also told me that she’d trust him to take her through a wormhole blind drunk, he’s that good.”
“Must have quite the knack.”
“Must have quite a lot of knack,” she agreed, “Even so, I think I’d have to be blind drunk to fly with him through a wormhole.”
Max chuckled.
“That’s my room,” Mouse gestured to an opening across from the living space. “Yours is down the hall. We share a bath. Hope you don’t mind.”
He thought he detected some reservations in her voice, which he chose to ignore. He knew he was a Gentleman Cat. “I’m going to change, and then I’ll fix us something to eat.”
“You can cook?”
“I love to eat too much to not know how.” He grinned as he closed the door. He didn’t need to see her to guess her expression.
Chapter 6
It was strange, entering his own home via the service entrance, although as far as service entrances went, his was one of the grandest. It was very spacious, with lovely sandstone pillars and wide, welcoming doors. A whole squadron could march through, but with his guards, he knew they would be reluctant to try it.
Mouse wore no disguise.
Max was disguised as an off-worlder with a message for himself. He knew it would get Ingot’s attention. His uniform disguise was one he much preferred. It didn’t smell like someone else’s sweat. The lower half of his face was exposed, as was befitting an off-worlder messenger uniform. He felt the rich dark brown fabric complemented his eyes, which soothed his aesthetic sensibilities.
The guard eyed him suspiciously and asked for his ident. He was proud of his guard for asking, but his stomach lurched. To have overlooked such an important detail as his ident! Not that he could have done anything about it. As Max, he could have snapped his fingers and been given his choice of indents. But he wasn’t Max, was he? Max was dead.
“I can vouch for him,” Mouse said, “He came with me from Rubble.”
The guard eyed her just as suspiciously until she smiled.
Max watched, fascinated, when the guard smiled back at her and waved them both through. “That smile of yours,” Max told her as they walked into the great room where a man dressed in his household’s livery stood waiting. He did not recognize the man, and felt a flicker of alarm pinch his belly.
“What about my smile?” Mouse asked.
“It’s quite a devastating weapon, my dear. Careful how you wield it.”
Mouse smiled at him, dazzling him. “You did that on purpose,” he told her.
The unknown man coughed.
“Why isn’t Ingot receiving us?” Mouse asked before Max could utter a word.
He suddenly thought what a mistake that would have been. How could he, an off-worlder messenger, know who usually received visitors? To his chagrin, he realized he might be a master at networking spies, but he was hopeless in the field.
“Ingot is busy elsewhere. How may I help you?” the man asked.
“We’d like to speak with Ingot,” Mouse said quietly. “I am Mouse from Rubble. He knows who I am, and this is a messenger who came to Rubble looking for Max Beckwith.”
The man skimmed over her assassin’s greys. “It was my belief Max was in Rubble.” He frowned. “If he’s not in Rubble, what has happened to him?”
“It is no concern of yours,” Mouse said, her voice clipped. “Take us to Ingot.”
“Wait here a moment,” the man snapped, and headed down the hall toward Max’s private study.
“I have no idea who that man is,” Max whispered, watching his retreating back.
Mouse shot him a glance but made no reply.
The man returned a moment later. “Ingot will see you,” he told Mouse. When Max made to follow he held up his hand. “Ingot asks you to wait. I am to escort you to the kitchen for some refreshment.”
Max felt his mouth tighten. “No, thank you. I will remain where I am.”
“Suit yourself.” the man said and gestured to a chair.
As he watched Mouse retreating down the hall, Max felt, for the first time, uneasy in his own home.
Ingot rose from behind Max’s desk—which now looked as cluttered as hers had been—and reached for her hands. “Mouse!” he exclaimed, “it is so good to see you! These are the most terrible of times. The most terrible.”
