Coming of the Darkstar

Ch5-3 Into the Mountain

"Gotta hand it to the Daear," O.M.E.G.A. quipped with one upraised eyebrow, "Their sense of interior decorating is original."

His words had very little effect on his target. The girl – she called herself Joran – remained distant and self-absorbed. Her body language gave little sign as to whether she was trying to block him out due to discomfort (he wasn't a pretty sight, afterall) or if she was simply dodging a volley of her own anxious thoughts.

She did seem the anxious type.

Kip's back was pressed casually against the living green of the stone wall, his hands working conversation between them. Talk about the weather. Talk about the scenery. Talk about the huge, floating upside-down mountain they were holed up in.

Out of the Tower, into the Mountain.

The entire place was a Daear fortress, carved out of the hollow heart of an uprooted mountain. That much he had been able to dredge out of Joran.

The rest he could observe, sense for himself -- how the entire structure seemed to run on some biological miracle-mechanism. The place was covered in groves of dark, snaky trees that looked to be half shrub, half vine. Their flat, groping leaves drew in the sunlight -- sucked it straight down to the roots and into the stone, feeding the processes of the fortress with energy from the sun.

No machines. No magic. Simply plant life.

The Anti-Zot.

Kip suppressed a shudder.

"I do get my own room, yes?" he turned his single eye upon the girl. Wedging in. Prying open interaction.

All it took was one weak spot and her walls would fall. Then he'd be inside.

And she won't even know it.

"I'm sure Pren will be here soon," Joran answered. Not unfriendly, just distant.

"Is Pren the housekeeper?" he pretended dumb, hoping to amuse. Amusement weakened armor. Sometimes dissolved it completely.

"No, she's the leader of the Daear." Joran didn't like Pren. It was written in her voice. As good as spoken.

"Seriously?" Kip's face twisted in a look of mock surprise. Playing on ego while excavating for information. "And to think I had you pegged as the boss..."

"Me?" she gave him an embarrassed look. Ego-stroking wasn't the way to go. "No, not me."

Kip offered a friendly frown, "My mistake, then. You seem like a take-charge type."

"Sometimes," her voice hesitated.

She's in over her head here.

His friendly smile widened. "But you do know the game plan?"

"For the most part," she glanced at him sideways; his dark hair, plated face, eye patch and single green-ember eye. Her expression lacked any trace of trust.

He gave the conversation a gentle push in the right direction. "You gonna fill me in so we can get down to business?"

"I already told you." Withdrawal.

"You were sent to wake me. That, I know. You want my help. That, I know. What I don't know are the details – the situation I'm looking at. Not much I can do for you without the particulars. Logical enough, yes?"

"Yes..." Joran echoed. Scared. Little-girl scared. Clearly, she didn't even know the situation she was looking at.

Exactly the type I want.