Gangr
After advancing through the paneled door, Kaptajnløjnant DeVos's eyes settled on a man with red hair and friendly mutton-chops sitting behind the counter. The fingers of the man's hands confidently rested against each other, forming a steeple.
As his eyes wandered, DeVos noted a variety of wood carvings shaped in the form of alien creatures standing along the countertop. These, no doubt, were for sale.
"Hoo-hoo," the man greeted, his fingers waggling affably as DeVos walked further into the shop. "Welcome to Oaken's Trading Post, ja. Today only, we have a big blow-out on lutefisk."
The man, presumably Oaken, motioned with his large hand, directing DeVos's attention to a towering display stacked with some kind of fish. At least, DeVos thought it was fish—he couldn't be sure. Whatever it was, it certainly didn't look appetizing.
Robotic drones flew around the arrangement, projecting lights onto myriad jars. Neon letters advertised the contents as "Xtra Tasti!" DeVos frowned.
His attention returned to the man at the counter, but not before appraising his surroundings for all points of egress. "You're Oaken?"
"Ja, ja, that is me. And welcome. You will find the finest goods in all of Arendelle City here."
The Kaptajnløjnant took his time to survey the store, not because he was interested in any of Oaken's goods, but to double-check the area.
A few other ice harvesters, the floor creaking under their weight, casually drifted into the shop behind DeVos, spreading indiscriminately throughout the store. Oaken tried to get their attention, waving frantically, but without any success.
The storekeeper then turned back toward DeVos, eyes live with enthusiasm. "Ooh, it looks like a good day for me. A lot of harvesters today. Ja?" His fingertips drummed against each other, while his head bobbed in a nod.
DeVos grinned; some might have called that grin sinister.
A few more men sauntered in through the front door a little while later. The crash of the closing door echoed in the confines of the building as it slammed shut. DeVos surreptitiously signaled to the men with hands casually placed behind his back.
The men, now loosely organized into four-man fire-teams, moved to preassigned positions as organically as possible. Exit and entrance ways were covered.
"I'm looking for a cryo-transport …" declared DeVos.
"Oh, then you are a very, very, lucky man." Oaken began silently clapping his hands together. "I just happen to have a cryo-transport for sale, two million credits."
"What?"
"Two million and I throw in a visit to my sauna."
"I don't think so."
Oaken nodded his head, still smiling. "You are what they call a 'tough cookie.' Ja?" He wiped his brow with his hand in mock frustration. "Hu! This is a big big sacrifice, because, I tell you, these things sell like krumkakes … I throw in a case of lutefisk. Extra tasty!"
"What?" DeVos's eyebrows knitted together in puzzlement. "No."
"Sun balm of my own invention?"
"You don't seem to get it. I'm not here to purchase anything," declared DeVos.
Oaken's face momentarily fell but rebounded with a smile. "Ah, you are such a tease. I do not do this for just anyone, but you seem like a nice fellow." The big man sighed. "My final offer, one and a half million credits. No lutefisk."
"Listen, Oakley …"
"It is Oaken."
"Listen, Orkin ... there seems to be a monumental misunderstanding here."
"Misunderstanding … Vhat kind of misunderstanding?"
DeVos curled his lips. "Here's the deal. You're going to hand that cryo-transport over to me, answer a few questions, and then … maybe … the two of us can part happily."
"Vhat did you say?"
"You heard me. The cryo-transport is property of the Planet Isles. That makes it stolen goods, and I'm here to confiscate the unit."
Oaken's demeanor grew shrewd. "You have ID and proper documents?"
The Kaptajnløjnant, trying to maintain his patience, reached into his long coat and retrieved identification along with supporting documentation. "Here."
Oaken hummed as he thumbed through the pages. "Hmm, mhmm, hmm-hmm." His eyes sparkled with delight as he reached the final page. "Hu-hoo! This document is not notarized. How do I know it is not a forgery?"
"Those documents are supported under intergalactic law, my friend. Look at the seals imprinted on each page. Please don't try and hustle me."
"Are you implying I am trying to swindle you? Ja, we do have a problem." Oaken rose from behind the counter—all seven feet of him. Gone was his affable demeanor, instead it was replaced with roiling menace.
As Oaken reached for DeVos, the Kaptajnløjnant deftly stepped aside and managed to divert the big man's hand and pin it to the counter. One of the wooden tokens fell over on its side.
Oaken's eyes bulged and his face flushed as he unsuccessfully struggled to free it from DeVos's grip. The storekeeper couldn't even manage to move his hand a single millimeter, despite their contrast in size.
At the same time, the dozen ice harvesters milling in the shop instantly stopped moving and came alert. They stood poised and ready, their overcoats outlining what only could be hidden weapons ready to be drawn. DeVos noted Oaken's eyes darting to and fro, assessing his situation until a certain understanding revealed itself in his countenance.
The Kaptajnløjnant gave him a crooked smile. "You're a smart man. You're not going to give me any trouble—are you?"
Oaken slowly nodded in response.
"Good. Like I said, I'm here to confiscate the transport. Cooperate with me and we might just part happily." He let Oaken's hand go and pulled up an image on his comm unit. "Tell me everything you know about this man."
The storekeeper's eye's rounded. "T-That is Kristoff Bjorgman, ja?"
This time it was DeVos's turn to nod. "So I've been told. Like I said, your complete cooperation in this matter would be greatly appreciated," he wryly added. He pulled Oaken's head down to meet his, close enough so that his breath could easily be felt on the other man's red cheeks. "In fact, I expect nothing less."
The vista had changed as they traveled further north. Gone were the icy plains, replaced instead by shallow peaks that framed the path ahead. It had been several hours since Kristoff's awkward predicament. He had hastily gotten dressed amidst an uncomfortable silence.
Anna was staring at his feet.
"What?"
"Nothing …"
"What do you mean, nothing. You're staring at my feet."
She casually placed her index finger against the side of her mouth. "Hmm, I guess what they say about shoe size is true."
Kristoff felt his face flush. "What exactly is that supposed to mean?" He could tell Anna was about to reply and cut her off. "Um, never mind. Don't … I mean … don't answer that question."
She raised both eyebrows, then leaned back into her seat, crossing her arms. "You know, I noticed that, for the most part, the Trallis are nudists. I didn't realize that that rubbed off on you, Kristoff." Her face wore a broad grin.
The coffee he was drinking came sputtering out of his mouth. "Fu … " He looked at Anna briefly, who was already giving him a look of disapproval. "Fungle."
"Are we back to that again, Christopher?"
Feeling exasperated, he attempted to clean up the mess he just made. He replied, "You're … you're"—a quick glance allowed him to observe her wearing the smirk of total victory. What managed to come out of his mouth next was a series of unintelligible syllables that sounded something like "Grdmd-frnk-frakn-grr-sible."
"Nope. Not a word. And neither is fungle."
He ignored her remark and continued, "I told you about the fog—right? More to the point, what about the seizure that you've said absolutely nothing about? Instead, here you are giving me a hard time about being, um … clothing deficient, and I still have no idea what went down just a few hours ago. I'm the one who should be finger pointing here."
Anna fidgeted for a second, but then firmly looked back at Kristoff. "Says the kissing bandit."
"Arrgh!" He facepalmed with both hands—at least his coffee mug was out of the way. "Sven, back me up on this, buddy."
"I'm busy," came Sven's reply.
The upcoming terrain grew more mountainous, with a mixture of dead, dormant and active volcanoes. Most of the elevated terrain was thick with snow and ice, reflecting the sun as if scattered with bright jewels. However, the active formations were even more spectacular … bluish gray smoke rose from random peaks, and molten lava meandered down their slopes, reacting, sometimes violently, with their surroundings. Often seen dotting these volcanoes were thermal enclaves teeming with moss laden trees that shone with their characteristic azure splendor.
They entered the scenic landscape via a thick stream of ice that, under warmer circumstances, would surely have been a thundering river.
Anna's head moved side to side. "This is all really pretty, and everything, but where are we going? And why?"
Kristoff was actually in the process of reviewing some notes based on a conversation he had had with the Trallis. The channel had been secure for obvious reasons—conversation had been in High Trallis, a language that remained unknown to anyone, save the Trallis themselves. Anna's question broke him out of his reverie. "Huh?"
"I said, where are we going?"
"Hmm, maybe I'll tell you when you start explaining your seizures. Quid pro quo, and all that." He knew he was being snarky, but his impulse to get to the bottom of this couldn't be suppressed any longer.
Anna face grew stern and she was about to retort, when a faint glimmer outside the snowcat caught Kristoff's eye. "Hold that thought. Sven, stop here."
"We're not finished with this conversation," she responded.
He ignored her, grabbed his gear and began to suit up, while Anna got up from her seat, looking annoyed.
"Now what?" She peered outside, through the front window, transitioning to an expression of bewilderment and, perhaps, curiosity.
Kristoff grunted as he pulled his gloves on. He wasn't sure what to tell her since he was only operating on a hunch.
"Hey, wait a minute. You're not going anywhere without me." Her hands were placed firmly against her hips, highlighting the look of determination painted across her face.
This was pure Anna. Kristoff realized it was useless to argue with her once she had that look on her face. In addition, he was also feeling perturbed by her refusal to open up to him, and so he figured he'd avoid a potential confrontation. "Fine, hurry up," he nearly snapped. He waited a few minutes as Anna quickly donned her snow gear. A part of him felt guilty for staring at her as she pulled on her boots—even with her bulky clothing she was startlingly beautiful.
Still, he couldn't help but grumble as he continued to ponder Anna's mysterious seizures, and her continuous side-stepping of the issue.
Outside, Kristoff walked his way in front of the snowcat and crouched down low so he could examine the terrain. Anna came right to his side and bent down beside him.
"What do you see?" she yelled at his ear. The winds were surprisingly stronger than what could be found in the lowlands, although it was certainly nothing compared to those of the Eternal Vortex.
Kristoff brushed at the surface of the ice laden scape, humming to himself. A short moment later, he yelled back, "Cat tracks. There's someone out here."
Because of the ice hardened surface, the impressions were subtle, but Kristoff's experience and keen ability allowed him to note the aberration in the terrain. Based on his knowledge of Arendelle-255's weather, this particular ice formation, and what he knew about snowcats, he judged that the vehicle had passed through here within the last day.
He motioned to Anna to get back aboard Sven. The two of them trudged back to the warmth and comfort of their snowcat.
They had been traveling for some time now. Anna was huddled in the back of the cab, sulking. He had pressed her on the issue of the seizures, but she refused to answer meaningfully. The best he could get from her was an emphatic "I don't know!" yet her body language indicated otherwise.
Of course, he felt bad for upsetting her, even though he had the right to know what was going on. With professional soldiers on the loose, a bounty on their heads, and the innate dangers of the planet, he needed to know if there was something sparking this.
So they had retreated to separate corners. Kristoff kept a sharp lookout for any other signs of the unexpected, and Anna would occasionally glare at him from her corner in the back.
He focused on the issue of the tracks. It was rare to see harvesters out this way, although, it did happen. He wondered about the ship traveling from Crux. According to the Trallis, they had landed two days ago. Unless the crew from the ship flew into Kristoff's area carrying a snowcat, it was unlikely that the tracks were theirs.
He wasn't going to rule out the possibility, however improbable. Always expect the unexpected was a harsh lesson he had learned from his childhood.
No, more likely, it was some random harvester … still, that could prove dangerous, since the Duke had levied his bounty on them.
He stole a glance toward Anna. She was studiously ignoring him. He had to admit, he had a hard time understanding her. What was she hiding?
Since their argument, she had put hair back in twin-plaits after wearing her hair down for the last couple of days. He didn't know if she was sending him a message through some secret sign language, or if she just changed her hairstyle on a whim. Abstractly, he realized his train of thought was bordering on the absurd. The whole issue with the seizures was driving him nuts.
"Anna." She shifted her head and flinched when she saw his look. "Level with me. What's going on?"
"Whaddya mean?"
"You know exactly what I mean." He instantly regretted the words that came out of his mouth, particularly the acerbic tone. Maybe it was just the pent up frustration acting out?
Her brow furrowed, but then her features relaxed. "I don't like your tone of voice."
Her voice trailed off, sing-song like. Kristoff was ready to explode. He paused for a second, and excused himself, heading toward the WC located in the back of Sven's cab if only to calm down. When he returned a few minutes later, he observed Anna looking at him strangely.
"Kristoff?"
"Yeah?"
"What's in that box?"
"Um, what box?" He attempted to keep his cool.
"You know, the box you buried deep in your bag … the wooden box with the funny figures on it."
His hair stood on edge as he looked more closely at Anna, only to notice her holding the Odin box in her hands. It was open.
"H-how did you do that? It's got a combo-lock on it?" He noticed that her face was flushed, not from embarrassment, but from something else entirely ...
"Anna!" Standing up and approaching her, his eyes widened even further as he noticed an open foil wrapper. Within the wrapper, a small dark nugget was exposed. "Sven, head for the nearest oasis! Now!"
"Kristoff …"
"What did you do, Anna?"
"I w-was mad at you. I knew you were hiding stuff in that bag. W-when I saw the box, I t-thought it might be something g-good in there. I only s-scratched off a tiny piece." Her lips began to tremble. "It … it tasted terrible." A line of drool dripped down the side of her mouth.
"No-no-no-no! Anna, by all the gods! Why?" He grabbed her by the shoulders. It took all his will not to shake her.
"K-kris, you're s-scaring me." Her teeth began to chatter. Her eyes dilated. "What was in that s-stuff?" Foam gathered at her mouth and her whole body began to shake.
"Sven, ETA?" His heart was pounding wildly. "What have you done? Gods, Anna! The gangr ... Why do you have to be so damn impulsive? Why!"
"We're right on top of a glade now," announced Sven.
Anna's face was crimson, almost purple. Kristoff's heart sank to the floor. Fuck!
As the snowcat came to a halt, he hoisted her over his shoulder, grabbed his axe and propelled himself out the door. He scanned his surroundings until his eyes settled on the thick leaves of a certain plant amongst the lush vegetation.
Broad strides quickly brought him and his load to the foot of the plant. Oblong green fruit laid at its base, partially hidden by the expansive leaves.
Kristoff brought his axe to bare, severing the fruit at the stem. The air around him filled with a putrid stench as he peeled back the fruit's hairy rind by using the blade of his axe.
Placing her in a sitting position beside the plant, Kristoff forced a near comatose Anna's jaws open. He pushed the fleshy, stinking pulp into her mouth. She proceeded to gag.
"Swallow, Anna. Chew and swallow!" Anna didn't respond. "Odin! Hear my words … let her live. Let her live and I'll return to the old ways …"
He tried to move her jaw for her. A moan emitted from Anna's lips as she eventually complied, only to pull away from him, convulsing as she projectile vomited into the foliage. Tears ran down her cheeks, beads of sweat gathered across her brow. Her face was a livid purple.
Still, Kristoff thought, this was good. He held her, just under her abdomen as she continued to retch. Pretty soon, the contents of her stomach had voided, although she continued with dry heaves.
He wiped her mouth on his sleeve, twisted her to turn her around. Her eyes were glazed over. She convulsed once more and then her body shuddered and went completely limp. Simultaneously, her face became ghastly pale.
"Anna?" Kristoff bent over her, looking for signs of life. His eyes began to well with tears. "Anna, don't do this. Don't …" He pulled her body in close to his chest. "I know you're tougher than this."
"Aw, how adorable," came a deep voice from behind, a voice Kristoff recognized. "She looks plum dead though, Bjorgman. Did ya kill her? Too bad, 'cause she would have made for a tasty treat." The whistle that followed caused Kristoff to bristle. "Well, looks like half my job's done. Dead or alive, says the Duke. Dead … or alive."
"Dirty Eddie …" Kristoff growled. He didn't need to turn since he recognized the voice. Dirty Eddie had a reputation, not because of his chest length beard, but because of the fatal accidents his partners always suffered at the end of an ice run.
"Oh ho! Ya remember. I thought it might be yous when the Duke said it was a 'Christopher.'" He laughed. "Nows all I needs for ya to do is carry little missy's body back to my snowcat. And then I'll be takin' care of the rest, if ya knows what I mean."
Dirty Eddie snickered. "Oh, and no quick moves. I've gots a railgun aimed straight at yer head."
A/N - Has Kristoff's journey come to an untimely end? And what of Anna? Does her story simply culminate with a whimper? Well, at least Oaken got what he deserved. Two million credits ... Ha! You crook!
Thanks to Cattleworks and JubileePretentiousName for their input!