Riders of B E R K

Part 33: Two more...

"There are two more traitors..." Hiccup echoed, his green eyes wide with horror. His hand raised to touch the screen as the names appeared.

...HARRIGAN...

...JORGENSON...

"Oh crap," I murmured.

"Which-which one?" Hiccup muttered, almost not daring to breathe. Uncle or cousin? Which would be worse? I glanced at him and he took a breath, then interrogated the computer. The image wound back to security footage of IT lab two. I stared at Hiccup and saw he had lost all his colour as we saw the image of Ozzie, typing rapidly at the console. The door swung open and a shape in uniform walked in: stocky, jet hair, purposeful. He walked up to stand by Ozzie and I saw him look up and open his mouth. A gun was raised and two shots buried in Ozzie's neck. He looked up in shock and half-stood as the man rapidly left. We watched Ozzie slump over the keyboard-just as Hiccup had found him. The image at the door froze and Hiccup magnified and processed the face.

"Spitelout," he breathed. I started: there was real hatred in that word. I felt gutted as well: it explained everything, of course but he was a senior officer and the General's beloved brother to boot. It was horrible.

"Hiccup," I said quietly, resting both hands on his shoulder: he was shaking and I felt totally unnerved as well. "You gotta tell the General." He slowly lifted his head and nodded curtly.

"Yeah," he breathed, rising and ghosting a stroke over Toothless's muzzle. The dragon gave a little grumble, unsure what had upset his rider so much and he nudged Hiccup. The Rider was breathing hard and he rubbed the dragon once, then walked past him towards the door to the adjacent room, hammering on it with his fist. I raced after him as it opened and I slid in after him. Hiccup was furious but shocked as well.

Stoick was sitting in a huge black leather armchair, a reading lamp lit at his side and a well-thumbed hardback copy of Sun Tzu's The Art of War in his hands. A crystal tumbler of amber liquid-probably some horrible whiskey-was at his elbow and he looked up calmly at the rigid shape of his son. Clearly, he was enjoying his death thoroughly. "Son?" he asked mildly. Hiccup stalked right up to him, his face tight with fury.

"I was right-you are fucking incompetent!" he raged. Stoick stiffened and laid the book aside, rising from his chair like a mountain slowly getting up, his eyes hard as he faced the challenge head on.

"And the basis of your assumption, boy?" he growled. Hiccup bunched his fists.

"Your fucking head of security is a traitor!" he hissed. Stoick reeled.

"You're wrong," he said flatly.

"I have the proof," Hiccup told him brutally.

"You're wrong. He is my brother. I trust him with my life," Stoick said angrily.

"Shame. Shouldn't have trusted him with Ozzie's though-he killed him!" Hiccup spat. He beckoned and stalked back into the office and Stoick followed, pausing in shock as he clapped eyes on the neatly curled shape of Toothless, parked by the desk.

"What the Hel is he doing here?" he roared.

"Shut up." Hiccup was so far gone beyond all reason that the General just blinked, let it go-for now-and walked past the Night Fury to peer at the screen. Hiccup hit the button to replay the scene we had witnessed then looked away as the horrific drama unfolded. I laid a hand on his shoulder and he rested his head against it, his breathing heavy: he was clearly fighting for control now because he had found out who had killed his best friend. His bandaged hand snaked round my waist and pulled me close, then he turned and buried his head in my body. I wrapped my arms around him, feeling him shuddering against me. I leaned forward and kissed the top of his head.