Trial by Ice (A Star Too Far Book 1) Read online

  Grue pulled his hand back as if stung and stared back before retreating to Berry’s side. Anger seeped out of the pair.

  William turned to the door. Beyond it was a seething angry mass of wind and ice. He turned to the men behind him. “We follow the rope, go out, find the end and sweep while it’s taut. If you find something, stop and slap the man’s shoulder in front of you.” He looked at the Kwesi, Crow and Tero. “We bring ‘em back.”

  He slid his mittened hand through the flap and felt the cold sear against it. With a slight hiss the door opened more, further than he wanted. Selim rushed to his side and pushed the bottom of the flap in, preventing it from flailing open.

  It seemed to resist, to want to drive him inside, before he erupted through the door. It was like standing inside a bucket of white paint. He turned his head, opened his mouth, gagged and focused on breathing. He stumbled a few steps out before he tripped and fell.

  A stiff hand pushed and he felt for the electrical conductor. It led forward into the white. He stood and pushed his head downward, fighting, gasping to breathe through the ice and wind. Drifts of ice had formed like sheets of concrete over the cable that they fought to free and continue.

  He dreaded finding a survivor and trying to get them back. They could barely stay upright themselves and he couldn’t feel his fingers anymore. A slight tear in the knee of his pants had ripped wide open and the wind had numbed it into a leaden slab. He was shivering now and began to hunch farther forward.

  The white had enveloped them all as they shambled into the maelstrom. Each could sense the other but could see nothing. A sudden wind slammed against them, dropping them to the ground. William lost his grip on the cable and felt himself tugged only by the waist cord. The wind slammed hard, pushing him down. The only bearing he had was his waist pulling against the cable.

  He gasped, slid, and clawed his way back to the main cable and found a hand pulling him back in. He knelt and tried to catch his breath before standing and stumbling forward. He was grateful for Kwesi, though it made him even more aware of those caught in the open.

  Finally the moment came that he feared. The cable ended. Kwesi pushed up against his back and halted. William turned and swung sideways in an arc. Nothing felt the same, he had no bearings, nothing to guide him, just the tightness of the cable behind him. His footsteps shuffled farther—it felt like he was moving upwards but he just couldn’t tell.

  The cable tugged and a hand slapped him heavily on the back. He turned slowly and crept forward until he ran into the other men. He leaned forward and felt the ground in front of him, patting gently on the drifts. There. A hard mass like a stone. He slid his face closer and tried to block the wind. All he could see was the whiteness.

  William slid one glove off and felt the mound before him. The skin was frozen tight with no hint of life below. It was like sliding his hand on a piece of frozen stone. His fingers were numb and he jammed his hand painfully back into the glove. A man frozen into an icy grave. All in under ten minutes.

  They couldn’t stay out longer, much more time and they would start losing fingers, toes, or worse. Already he felt his knee losing sensation. He clapped his hand on the man next to him and pushed him back. Failure was upon him just as harshly as the weather. He stumbled forward with the weight of command driving him on.

  He pushed himself through the opening and into the dark inside. Hands pulled him inside and dragged his quaking, shivering body near the heating coil. His eyes stung and burned as the ice melted and pooled as he stared upwards. Cold rough hands undressed him and stripped him into a fresh set of clothes. Dead man’s clothes.

  There was no need to tell everyone else what they had found as it was quite obvious. William sat and shook. A heavy, warm, sleeping bag pulled tightly against him. His mind slid from one scenario to the next as he wondered what he could have done differently.

  Sebastien sat down next to him and passed a plastic dish with a thin gruel of ration bars and tepid water. William grasped it in hands cold and tight like claws. It tasted like sand with a hint of lemon.

  Sebastien shrugged. “Nothing that could be done, some freak wind.”

  William nodded and sipped more. As horrible as it tasted it warmed him from the inside. “But I could…”

  “No. Focus on when the storm breaks,” Sebastien said.

  “There were five men in that tent.” William stared at the heating coils. Five men he was responsible for.

  Sebastien stood. “And tomorrow is another day.”

  William watched him walk away and wondered how he could dismiss the event so casually. Then he remembered who he was, a man so injured in combat that he was more machine than human.

  His knee ached and burned as the blood slowly returned to the frozen and damaged tissue. He had caught a glance when they were stripping him down, the skin was white with a tint of charcoal in the center. Every beat of his heart throbbed the burning even further.

  The howling and slamming of the wind was relentless throughout the entire night. They only knew the tent with the wounded was still there because the reactor remained stable. William slept in fitful moments, awakened either by the booming wind or the burning in his leg.

  * * *

  Morning arrived with more of the same. The storm seemed as intense as when it had first slammed into them. Conversation, already sparse, dropped off and the men hemmed in near the heating coil and sat or slept. William would look to Eduardo who would check the output and nod solemnly. His tattoos shimmered and blurred whenever he exposed the flesh.

  Eduardo crawled over and sat near him. He pulled off a mitten and slid his sleeve upwards. The arm was covered in a panorama of angels, mountains, lights, and fury all clashing with a darkness. It moved as if in slow motion. An image of blood droplets crawled slowly from elbow to wrist. Eduardo held out his arm with pride.

  “It’s quite amazing,” said William as he watched the scene unfold.

  “This arm was done during the Festival of Salvador, but it changes. See?”

  “Do you control it?”

  “Ahh! Such is the beauty, it changes itself,” Eduardo beamed with pride. “That, that is the miracle: the nanites decide. Or whoever controls the nanites.” Eduardo slid the sleeve back and pushed the mitten back on.

  “Whoever?”

  “Faith! You must have faith!” Eduardo nodded to himself.

  William sat in silence and looked to the men around him. How much would they take before fracturing and wandering out to their deaths? How long would the storm last? He didn’t bother pondering beyond that. He shrugged to himself and sat in silence as the wind marched on.

  They awoke to a sudden silence. William lay with his eyes opened and strained to hear the wind. The heating coil popped loudly. Men sat up and slid sleeping bags off. The silence was overpowering.

  William shed the sleeping bag and crawled to the door, pushing it open. Crystals so white they were almost gray poured inside. Outside was a white horizon with a line of pale blue sky. The storm had broken, replacing violence with tranquility.

  He waded across the gap between the two tents. The snow was heavy and stiff like a dry cement. He pushed away a heavy bank and slid himself in, falling onto the floor with a hiss of snow behind. Vito sat with the head of the blonde cradled on his lap, the strider jockey sat near the coil. A single man lay nearby. A solitary sleeping bag was tucked against the back wall.

  “Vito!” William called excitedly.

  “William, tell me you brought a ration bar or roast chicken?” Vito asked.

  “Soon! How do you fare?”

  “Von Hess has been reveling me with tales of Bavarian sausages, and Tik is explaining how to cure salmon,” Vito replied. “One more lost during the storm.”

  William nodded to Von Hess and Tik. “I’m Midshipman Grace.”

  Tik, the blonde who the surgeon missed, wore a subtle mask of bruises on her face. She gave a weak salute and nodded.

  Von Hess saluted with an
injured arm. “Is Tech Sergeant Eduardo well?”

  William nodded. “Quite, thankfully. He’s kept us all warm.”

  “Ahh yes, he does have a certain affinity for keeping things going.”

  “How do you fare, William?” Vito asked.

  “The other tent was swept away.”

  Vito looked away and nodded.

  A low whining hiss slid through the tent. Everyone’s eyes focused through the wall at the odd sound so alien to what they were used to hearing.

  “What is that?” Vito asked.

  “Hold breakfast and stay inside!” William called as he sprinted through the flap.

  Avi stood outside, relieving himself and looking off into the distance. “I think I see something.”

  “Get in!” William yelled as he grabbed him and ripped him towards the door.

  “Hey! I’m pissin—” William cut Avi off with a hiss and pushed him into the tent.

  The two fell into a heap and William slid off. “Something’s coming in, and fast, do you hear it?”

  The men sat up and, for the first time, reached for weapons. The whining grew louder through the chamber. Sebastien slid out from underneath his sleeping bag and edged near the wall. He hissed and raised a hand, demanding silence.

  William held his breath and waited. His heart pounded in his ears. He closed his eyes and focused on the sound. It was coming in from the south and was definitely growing closer.

  “The shelters are coated to prevent heat transfer and should offer no more reflection to a scan than a rock,” said Sebastien. He slid a hand onto the tent wall caressing it softly.

  “They could save us!” called out Grue.

  “Shut up!” Sebastien snapped back.

  Grue emerged from his sleeping bag and crawled forward, Private Nur close behind. Berry and James followed.

  “Don’t be stupid!” William hissed. “Stay!”

  “Damn you! We’ll freeze to death!” Grue clawed himself forward.

  Tero and Xan leaped onto Grue but Nur continued closer. His hands clawed into his webbing as he surged closer to the door. Closer to William.

  “Nur, get back,” William said through gritted teeth.

  “It could be a rescue team!” Nur yelled. His fingers fumbled and dropped a small smoke beacon. He stooped down to scoop it up.

  William drove a knee forward into Nur’s chest, connecting heavily with a deep thud. Nur pursed his mouth and dropped onto the floor, gasping. William grabbed the beacon and slipped it into his pocket. Corporal Berry and Daryll James both stopped moving and watched the door in silence.

  “If we miss this trip out…” Berry’s eyes were dark and simple in intention.

  William stared back and listened to the unknown visitor.

  “VTOL, an old one,” Sebastien said quietly.

  Eduardo nodded with closed eyes. “Rotors need balancing, is not Xeno enhanced methinks.”

  William wanted to open the door, he wanted to peek out and see what was outside. Was it really rescue? The answer came in a low burst.

  The dull sound of shelling from a heavy caliber autocannon silenced everyone. The shelling paused a moment and continued in a different tone, a different direction. It paused again and the whine moved further before the rhythm of violence began anew.

  William looked to Sebastien who shrugged in reply. The eyes of all the men were on William. Grue had ceased struggling on the floor and lay in silence. Nur finally caught his breath in shallow bursts. Violence was in his eyes as he stared at William.

  William ignored him and strained to listen to the dimming sound of the attacker. More shots echoed out into the crisp air before silence returned. The whining grew louder and the walls shuddered. It was coming closer.

  Nur raised himself off the floor. William slid his hand onto the cool frame of the pistol and drew it out in a smooth motion. The crisp black barrel pointed down at Nur.

  Nur paused and relaxed himself onto the floor.

  The whining was on top of them, harsh and grating. The tone changed and it slid away, growing dimmer. The whine turned into a hum and finally into the silence they had awoken to.

  William released the breath he was holding and returned the pistol to his pocket. His eyes drifted down to Nur. “Well, I think that settles it.”

  Nur nodded slowly and bitterly. “Yes, I think it does.”

  William creeped out into the bright chill air. The nearest dropcap was split open and smashed apart. A thick smoke drifted in the distance from multiple points. Sebastien emerged and stood by his side.

  “Hmm.” Sebastien shrugged. “Is old, not even last generation, we haven’t used autocannons in thirty years.”

  William nodded. “Whoever it is doesn’t like us, that’s all I need to know.”

  More men emerged and watched the horizon in silence. The moment set in that they were truly on their own, not only in a barren wasteland, but on a hostile planet with zero support.

  William stepped back inside and walked to where Eduardo was adjusting the reactor. “Could you go and see Vito? We need a way to keep a wounded man warm.”

  Eduardo nodded, “Si, si.”

  William turned and looked to the rear of the room. Nur, Grue, James and Berry all stood staring at him. He returned the gaze before the men turned away. He watched a moment more and walked back into the chill.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Struggle

  The camp spread out and dug through ice packed like gravel. They searched for the collected sleds and supplies. The storm had slammed the sleds away, though a few were found nearby. One was found, oddly enough, standing straight up like a needle on the horizon.

  All eyes watched the horizon and strained to listen. The mystery attacker seemed to be gone south, the way they were going. They combed the strafed wreckage but found only another shrapnel scarred lid for a sled.

  The wind shifted and brought the acrid smoke from the wreckage to the camp. Aleksandr and Kerry stopped the lashing. “What’s tha smell?” Kerry asked.

  “Meat,” Aleksandr replied.

  They quickly finished working and scuttled inside.

  The wind relented, though the chill behind it was fierce. Each group lashed supplies with electrical cable and quickly retreated to the relative warmth of the tent. Every movement brought scant warmth.

  Eduardo and Vito shuffled between the two tents and found William warming chapped fingers near the coil.

  “William, we may have a solution,” Vito said. He nodded to Eduardo.

  “We can use the reactor and a sheet of plating as a resistive heater,” Eduardo said slowly. He nodded to himself and spread his hands out. “Then they lay on top.”

  “Good man! Will it get too hot?” William asked.

  “Ahh, well, we can regulate the reactor, but it is still a good deal of power, but it’s all we have.”

  “How much weight?”

  Vito looked to Eduardo. “Another hundred kilos or so.”

  “Hmm, that’s unfortunate.” William slid his semi-dry mittens on.

  “I ain’t pulling it,” Grue hissed as he walked past. Berry smirked as he followed.

  “I will,” Sebastien said. His tone was simple, but firm. Berry bared his teeth in a fake smile.

  William peered over his shoulder and nodded. “We all will.”

  “We will have three on that sled: Tik, Von Hess, and Squire,” Vito said.

  “Will you be ready to move in the morning?” William asked.

  Eduardo smiled confidently. “We’re ready now, just need to swap the leads off of the coils.”

  “Right, we’re leaving as soon as the tents are down tomorrow,” William replied.

  The pair walked back out as Eduardo spoke of the reactor adjustments to be made. William watched them and clapped his mitts together. The coils twanged. They would try tearing down both tents, moving, and setting them back up well before sundown. He turned and looked to Grue and Berry. The factions were emerging.

  The sur
vivors took to carrying weapons and staring south. They had no desire to remain, dead or alive, on that barren plain.

  An inventory was taken of weapons. They had seven sidearms, twenty-five CR-9 rifles, and a single Beretta multi-point launcher. The slabs of caseless ammunition were the only thing abundant. A case of filament-wound Chilean grenades finished out the mix. The nanite coated wires would slice anything that the shrapnel contacted with. Though if they were found by another VTOL, there was nothing they could do.

  * * *

  Night settled and an air of anticipation was about the tent. The walls of the tent cracked and creaked as the cold settled. Ice crystals rasped against the outside as a slight breeze rose. None spoke of it, but all feared another storm.

  William lay awake and stared up at the dim lightband above him. Every day the lights seemed to grow dimmer. He slid his hands onto his knee and felt the flesh hot and painful. It didn’t seem to be infected, he thought it was too cold for that, but it still hurt like hell. His eyes drifted closed and a fitful chilled sleep finally took him.

  The morning chill pierced through the sleeping bag shawls like a crisp knife. The men huddled outside of the tent and watched as it stooped down as if in prayer. Finally it deflated and they moved quickly to roll it. The material was stiff and recoiled back before finally being lashed down.

  The men fanned out before the sleds. Each sled had a set of dull black conductors tied to the front. The four sleds were pulled by men hitched like oxen. The snow near the camp had been packed down and the sleds pulled well. Once they had traveled a few hundred meters the rate slowed. The forward edges dug down and had to be lifted and set back on track.

  The snow was deceptive. In some spots, it was stiff and made a fine grip. In others, it was soft like sugar sand and took tremendous effort just to remain standing.

  Matty Kerry was the first man to sit down and cry in despair. The cold was relentless in its assault. They heaped him next to the wounded, lashed tightly and not complaining.

  Sebastien plodded on, each foot planted and shoved before the next drew forward. Stomp. Plant. Shift. Pull.