Trial by Ice (A Star Too Far Book 1) Page 6

  Hunger gnawed at them. To stop was to freeze. The dim rise they came from slowly disappeared behind another featureless hill. The landscape was different yet still the same.

  William watched the men around him. Heads were hunched down as feet stomped forward. They only paused to adjust the sleeping bags. The forward progress was in halted motions as sleds became stuck and men tired. At the end of the day they made good progress on the leeward side of a ridge. The downward slope let the sleds glide gently without catching.

  They made camp and watched as the tents rose slowly. Men stumbled about like drunkards as they took turns hammering in the stakes. The sled with the wounded was covered in men soaking up what little heat it offered. They began to stream inside even before the walls were fully inflated.

  Eduardo shivered in silence with white, frost burnt, hands to regulate the reactor. His index fingers shook and wavered with every tap. The eyes around the room all greedily focused on his movements. The coils began to hum that mournful hum and the men relaxed. Soon snow was melting and more gruel was being made.

  “That went better than expected eh Mr. Grace?” Avi said. He chewed down the gruel of ration bar and tepid water as he awaited the response.

  “Yes, yes it did,” William lied. He guessed the progress at less than ten kilometers. By Eduardo's reckoning they had four more days at that rate. He didn’t know if they had four days in them.

  Avi sucked down the rest of the gruel and smiled with grit covered lips. His eyes drooped and in minutes he slept.

  William watched Avi, and most of the others, do the same. He envied them as he stood. His legs burned. His calves were tight like burnt twine. He hobbled out the door to check on the wounded.

  The men had split up evenly between the two tents, but all the wounded were kept together. Everyone feared the winds culling another tent.

  William stood before the thick plate sled. Men had eyed the warm sled coveting what it had while they trekked. Men who would lay down their lives courageously now were jealous over the slightest benefit. He knew it because he felt it too.

  The snow squeaked with every step. It had settled since it fell. He paused and peered to the horizon. The sun burnt, dimly cradled between the horizon and the low clouds. His nose burned and he continued inside.

  “Come. Sit,” Crow called to William.

  William walked slowly and sat across from him. Vito was seated back-to-back with Crow with his head hung forward. He snored lightly.

  “What did you think of the day?” William asked.

  “Do you really want to know?” Crow replied.

  William nodded. “Always.”

  “Is too slow. One man was carried today, tomorrow it will be more.”.

  “Nothing more we can do.”

  “No, I suppose not. But it does not make it easier.”

  William nodded.

  Crow looked up. “Lead them.”

  William glanced around the room with guilty eyes. “I’ve never done this before.”

  Crow leaned forward and tapped William’s chest. “Lead from there.”

  William sighed and stripped off his mittens. The tips of his fingers were a sickly gray. He cupped his hands and exhaled into them.

  “Are you really from Farshore?” Crow asked.

  William nodded and exhaled again. A slight mist of frosty air wisped through his fingers. “I was.”

  “Yes. Was.”

  “I don’t remember much, I was young when it happened. I can remember being hungry all the time. The camps were not nice for a child.”

  “How…”

  “How did I survive the burning? I don’t remember exactly. My father stuck me on a transport off I think.” William sighed. “They thought they had won, but then they burned them somehow. I didn’t know until years later, my mother didn’t tell me.”

  “She survived too?” Crow raised his eyebrows.

  “They were separated, she lived in Montreal.” He looked away. “And you?”

  “Turkey.” Crow said. “Grew up so poor that even stealing food was difficult. I left when I could, learned to read on a cargo hauler, and then came to the Army.”

  “Volunteer?”

  “Food. When you don’t have it… That pit inside, it burns you,” Crow said. “So I joined once the cargo job was finished. I was hungry.” Crow smiled. His dark eyes sparkled.

  William smiled and nodded.

  “Even this is more food than I grew up with. For now, at least.” The smile disappeared.

  “Ever been in a situation like this?”

  “No. Not exactly. I deployed twice. Incursions. One was against some fanatics that locked down a grav point, the other to enforce the Covenant. That one was bad.”

  “How so?” William leaned forward.

  “They signed, but dumped on the government, booted ‘em out and burned the papers. So we came in to restore the government. We didn’t care who ran the place, as long as they followed the covenant.” Crow slid up his sleeve and showed a smooth scar, dark and taut. “They signed eventually, but we had some rough times.”

  “Those papers…”

  Crow missed the cue. “Was an old colony, set in their ways. Back when anyone with enough money could buy a way off planet.” Crow caught himself with a look of surprise on his face. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  The wind whispered behind them in concert with the expanding and contracting fins. The light of the room was barely enough to reflect off their eyes.

  “Listen Grace, there are men who lead, and men who are led. You may be young, but rank alone isn’t what has kept you here. You’ve got that…” Crow stopped and rubbed his hands together in thought. “Presence, presence of command. Ask of us, and lead in front.”

  William sat in silence and stared at the space between them. He didn’t feel like a leader. But he didn’t feel overwhelmed. Command be damned, for now it was survival.

  “Are we going to get through this, Sergeant Crow?” William asked.

  “You tell me, Mr. Grace.”

  William gave a single crisp nod. “Yes.”

  The two men sat and listened to the heating coils sing. William fell asleep quickly as the day’s travel finally overwhelmed him.

  * * *

  Sebastien listened with his eyes closed and watched the diagnostics flare across his vision. The shoulder was still a mess but for the most part all those nanoscale machines were coping quite well. Times like this he wondered why everyone just didn’t get full nanite sets. Then he remembered the loss, that itch of being known and apart.

  He’d heard the Midshipman mention Farshore once before, but this time it caught him. That place changed everything. Twenty years ago. He felt old.

  “Aren’t you cold, sir?” Private Aleksandr asked with chattering teeth.

  Sebastien turned his head slightly and debated just ignoring him. “No, I’ve got a reactor implanted.”

  “What do you feed it?”

  Sebastien pictured a tiny stove in his chest. “Thorium fuel. Nanite blocks. Occasionally tungsten.”

  Aleksandr nodded knowingly. “Is good.”

  Sebastien smiled a slight smile and nodded. “Yes, I guess it is.”

  “Why aren’t you leading this, sir?”

  Sebastien clicked his tongue and looked up to the lightband. “Private, I’m a Warrant Officer not a Command Officer. Mr. Grace has the command. If he requests my assistance, I’ll be happy to provide information.”

  “But—”

  “No. No buts,” Sebastien replied.

  “They don’t trust ‘em,” O’Toole said.

  Sebastien nodded. “Something like that.”

  Aleksandr snorted. “Trust you? Why wouldn’t they?”

  “They’re afraid he’d lead us normal men into the maw of hell,” O’Toole said. His tone was not spiteful, but reflective.

  Aleksandr looked between the two men.

  Sebastien stared into nothingness. He could think of no way to explain i
t. Bone was no match for alloy, but the spirit…

  O’Toole rolled over into a ball and went to sleep.

  “Hmph. I’d follow you.”

  Sebastien didn’t reply. A part of him wished he’d walked into the white. Another part worried how he’d get them out of the maw. He slept and dreamed of his youth.

  * * *

  The morning came quickly. The containers of melted snow were soon topped with ration bars which sunk into the thawing soup. Each man scooped out his share in a carbon fiber ration cup.

  Vito sipped his breakfast. William sat down and drank deeply.

  “And how did you sleep?” Vito asked.

  “I’m not sure I did. It felt like I closed my eyes and opened them again eight hours later,” replied William.

  Men around them nodded in agreement.

  “I dreamed I was on a boat.”

  “A boat?”

  “It was nice, it was warm, but a shark kept poking me.”

  William smiled slightly.

  “Then I realized the shark was Sergeant Crow jabbing his elbows into me.”

  Crow snorted. “He snores!”

  William was the first to venture out of the tent. The sky was a dim orange with a tinted fog basking above them. Crystals of ice had settled onto the tents. He stood in silence. The silence was so complete that he had to hold his breath, just for a second, to truly feel it.

  They broke camp as they had before. Kerry walked slowly to William and stood by his side. William could sense his guilt.

  “Could I get your help please Mr. Kerry?” William asked through chattering teeth.

  “Sir?”

  “My knee aches like you’d not believe. Would you help me pull on the sled with Sebastien?” asked William.

  Kerry turned and looked to Sebastien who was kicking the heavy sled free of the morning ice. “With him?”

  William smiled. “Yes, with him.”

  Kerry watched Sebastien slide the sled forward and helped Eduardo hook up the leads. “He doesn’t need my help.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. Think he can do it all on his own? He’s not invincible, just tough.”

  Kerry looked back to William and nodded. “I’ll help.”

  “Good man! Go and give him a hand moving the wounded, we’ll start soon.”

  Vito walked over and stood next to William. “I see what you did there.”

  “Oh?”

  “Pair the weak with the strong without ruining his morale.”

  “Maybe.” William smiled back.

  The shelters were bound once more to the makeshift sleds. The men stood shivering as the final bindings were crossed and began moving south.

  The anticipation of arriving somewhere closer was tempered by the great unknown of what exactly awaited. Heads were kept low, arms tucked in close, feet tromped step by step. At every rise eyes looked upwards as the hissing of the sleds followed behind. Every rise brought the same unending field of occasional debris punctuated by a wind sculpted rock.

  The moment the sun peaked they stopped and stood in a huddled mass. They were coated in a light mist like a herd of yak. A quarter of a bar of rations were handed out to each man. They stood in silence with the frozen chunk thawing in their mouthes. The silence was only broken by a shifting foot in the crusty snow.

  As suddenly as the storm had raged a few days before the air began to warm. They turned and faced south where the slightest breath of air slid along the snow. Warm air. Men took out the frozen ration bars and smiled at each other. Gloves came off, just for a moment, and men held out hands in the strangely warm breeze.

  “What exactly is this?” William asked to no one in particular.

  “I’d gather that as the weather shifted a warm front followed behind that storm,” Vito said before popping the ration bar back in.

  The crust of the snow slowly began to soften. It was a short lived victory. The misery of sliding a sled on warm snow is unmatched. The upper crust changes into something closer to mashed potatoes. The snow grew sticky, it clumped, it packed into dense balls. Sleds had to be lifted and heaved regularly. Now they were wet.

  The most devious thing about it, though, was beneath that upper layer of soft wetness was granular, hard, cold snow. Every step would punch through the soft wetness and slide into a granular zone that would stick to the wet pants and boots. The fatigue mounted and tempers flared.

  Grue slapped down the electrical cord and slapped his arms against his hips. “Fuck this! Fuck it!” He kicked, screaming at nothing, at everything.

  William’s legs ached, burned, and were cold and stiff all at once. He knew if they stopped, even for a short while, they’d have to set up camp and fast. “Move! Grab that rope and pull!” he shouted at Grue.

  “Fuck you!” Grue stabbed a finger in William’s direction. “Just fuck! You!”

  William leveled his eyes. “Everyone start moving.” He pulled the cord taut. The sled moved as everyone else pulled with it. He turned and watched as Grue tantrumed in the wake. He tugged angrily. If they stood, they died.

  William looked behind him. The sled was moving, Grue was hunched over like the rest with his lips fluttering silently as he heaved and grunted. He caught Berry’s eye who peered coldly. William tightened his grip and continued to pull. He had made a mistake—the wedge was growing.

  * * *

  Berry’s leg ached and throbbed as the wet snow froze against his soaked pants. The fool Grue stood beside him and acted like toddler. He stopped and waited and watched as the sleds around him moved. The ration bars were like gold resting against his heart.

  “Shut up,” he snapped.

  “My hands,” Grue said as he flexed his fingers back and forth.

  The sleds moved forward and he was left with Nur and Grue. “Turn around,” he said to Grue.

  Grue turned slowly and faced him. “Why?”

  Berry slapped him in the face with his sopping wet glove. “You fucking pull. This world of shit is going to end, but you need to work with me, you need to trust me.”

  Grue slipped down onto his knees and looked with a blank face into the crust.

  “Stand up,” Berry said. “I said stand up.”

  Grue looked up with broken eyes and stood slowly.

  Berry stuck his clammy cold fingers into his jacket and withdrew one of the ration bars. “Eat.” He handed it to Grue.

  Grue looked down at the bar and stuffed it into his mouth. He snatched a glance at the others and wolfed it down.

  Berry nodded to Nur and handed him a bar. “Eat. I said I’d take care of you, right?”

  “Where?” Nur asked.

  “Never let a catastrophe go to waste.”

  * * *

  The final rise of the day brought a surprise as the dropcap containing the striders came into view. The crumpled shell looked like the rest except for the metallic skeletons locked onto the outside. During a drop they would be released by explosive bolts and scatter around the capsule. Now they hung limp and wrecked like broken marionettes.

  The capsule had some damage from the VTOL. Cratered holes pockmarked one edge. Blasts on the inside were far more destructive. The entire mass was a shrapnel cut mess of sharp edges and bent steel.

  They set camp within sight of the capsule but not nearby. They were fearful that the VTOL would return. Men could barely stand as the hypothermia slowly crept in. Feet acted as radiators, slowly seeping warmth through wet boots and pants back into the cold. Everyone not setting up the tent sat, or tried to lean, on the heated sled.

  William found Eduardo sitting on a lone sled looking at the wreck of the capsule. Snow had drifted on the leeside—it looked sad and forlorn. He stood in silence next to Eduardo for a moment.

  “Is anything left?” asked William.

  Eduardo was silent.

  William waited an uncomfortable few seconds. He looked over to make sure Eduardo was awake. His eyes were closed but his lips moved slightly in the dimming light. Eduardo prayed.r />
  Behind him the tents grew and the men entered. The reactor was disconnected and hauled inside by Sebastien. O’Toole, Eduardo’s assistant, followed closely behind with a heating fin cradled in his arms. The men streamed in behind as if following the crucifix to mass.

  “Maybe,” said Eduardo. He stood slowly and brushed off his pants.

  William looked over at Eduardo. He never noticed how small he seemed, even in the heavy clothing.

  “The first time I saw snow was with my papa, on the edge of the Pyrenees. I said to him, ‘Papa, why do the hills have hair like Grandpa?’” He tucked his hands under his arms. “It seemed so magical, that the hills had white hair. I wanted to touch it to see, but it was too far.”

  William smiled. The wind began to bloom as the dying light crossed the horizon. “We’ll go look in the morning.”

  Eduardo was silent. His eyes stared at the cold capsule.

  The two turned and walked in silence back to the tents. The night passed with the same routine. The heating coil pinged and twanged with men barely able to sleep. Wet clothes thawed in the tent, but never warmed enough to dry.

  * * *

  Sleep came in fits. One man would stir in a coughing fit. Everyone else would would toss and turn and be reminded that they were not only cold and tired, but wet as well. The only thing that burned was the ache in their legs and backs. Though the cold still gnawed at empty stomachs.

  The word whispered in the tent was two days. Two more days. Only two more. Two more days of wet slop filling boots. Two more days of ice building on toes. Two more days of soggy pants. Two more days of hunger that sat like a cold rock.

  The next day they scoured the strider capsule but found nothing of use. The VTOL had paid a visit and given the same welcome as the other capsules had received. The striders themselves were wrecks, mangled shadows of what they once were. Von Hess stood in silence, ignoring his wounds, and looked lost.

  The weather firmed the snow in the morning. The top turned into a raspy crust with a frigid core. Every step was painful as the crust scraped the leg. Each step brought them closer to the sea, but each step dropped the essential core temperature a fraction. Hypothermia was coming.