The human with the long blonde hair smiled. “You found something, Maarg?”
“In the Intergalactic Haulers’ archive, Tara. An audio transcription file from a mission on Snowmass fifty-five years ago.”
“Anything else about it? I mean, before we listen?”
Maarg shook her wide head. “No. The file is marked Stars Brightly Shining and that’s all. The rest of the standard Haulers’ mission nomenclature is missing on this file save for the location stamp—Snowmass.”
Tara squinted at her. “What else? You sound concerned.”
“I found about a terabyte of encrypted data like this file. It will take a significant amount of time and effort to decrypt it all.” Maarg took a deep breath. “That being said, we got lucky, Tara. We’re headed to Snowmass from the target list Vannix and I developed, and the first file we get decrypted is tied to it. I can’t help but wonder what else we’re missing in the archives.”
Tara nodded. “Lucky or not, it’s a break. Maybe the first real break we’ve had when it comes to finding Snowman. Lucille? Play Maarg’s file on the bridge speakers, please?”
<
* * *
Intergalactic Haulers Archive
Entry 004—Marked Stars Brightly Shining
Fifty-five years ago
Position Unknown
Snowmass
24 December
The reassuring crackle of a fire warmed Katya Orlova’s sleep. She felt the warmth against her skin and relished it. But was she dreaming? Katya imagined the warmth surrounding her like a blanket, except for a cold, wet mass against her face.
Cold.
Wet.
Katya’s mind swam up, piecing together the missing time before she opened her eyes and found herself lying in a blanket of fresh powdery snow. The fire popped and crackled nearby. She craned her neck and raised half her face from the snow. A bolt of pain tore through her neck and shoulder. Tears squirted from her eyes. Katya strained and saw the wreckage of the Mercury-class dropship, the one they’d nicknamed Rudolph because of its flashing red fuselage lights, burning. Fire licked at what had been their delivery vehicle and crawled slowly up the heavy trunk of an alien tree with big, heavy boughs of wide needles. Snowmelt cascaded across the ground as the fire’s heat melted both snow and permafrost underneath. Under what her mind said was a mutant alien fir tree, melting snow plopped down in frigid bursts and splats. Katya pushed with her arms and struggled upward into a sitting position. Brushing the snow off her face with one hand, she blankly stared at the wreckage for more than a minute before the memory fully came back to her.
Ten meters from the dropship. I must have been thrown out in the crash. Thank God we had the cargo doors open to see the snow. She snorted. Canudas and Blake had never seen snow on Earth, and with a blizzard raging on Snowmass, Captain Ericksson had agreed to open the bay doors on the descent to give the crew an opportunity to sightsee before they got to work. Canudas’s face had looked angelic as she watched the swirling snowflakes. The chance to do anything besides ingress to a forward operating base and help evacuate casualties, and recover remains, was something the Doctors For the Void organization rarely enjoyed.
Guess the cease fire was a lie.
A missile came up through the snow in the direction of what they’d identified as a Veetanho mercenary company supporting a group of squatters determined to hold a water source and keep New Perth from receiving water without a significant fee. Extortion wasn’t a crime in the Union, and while the citizens of New Perth had tried in vain to solve the issues amicably, they’d finally relented and brought in a mercenary company of their own to fight the Veetanho. The trouble was that the human citizens wanted to fight more than their Zuul mercenaries did. The Zuul seemed intent on waiting out the weather on Snowmass. The trouble was that the colony had been built below the planet’s Antarctic Circle, and it sat in the midst of a 45-day blackout. The nearby yellow star wouldn’t be seen for another two weeks. The darkness, the cold, and the reportedly lackluster performance of the Zuul gave the advantage to the Veetanho. The little rat bastards didn’t understand a neutral medical team trying to help.
They shot us down.
Katya closed her eyes and felt her stomach lurch as images from the moment of impact and the departure from controlled flight flashed through her mind.
Bozhe moi! We crashed!
In her headset, she remembered hearing Captain Ericksson’s deep voice screaming, “Altitude! Altitude!” The alien fir trees came up from the snow, stabbing at the dropship’s fuselage, and that had been it. A second later they tumbled through the trees and her memory went black.
“Damn,” Katya said to the wind.
The next rational thought was to check her body. Nursing brought good habits. She constantly checked others without their knowledge and she quickly put her experience to work on herself.
Legs are okay. My back and neck hurt. Left hand aches. Possibly a sprain. Maybe something broken. My head is killing me, but there’s no blood there. Cuts and scrapes in other places. My suit took the worst of it.
She looked up at the fire and decided that the cold was too incipient, and her garment was not meant for exposure. Katya prepared to push herself up to a standing position and watched the fire beaconing like a warm siren. The light was good enough to see about twenty meters in every direction, and there wasn’t another soul in right.
Did anyone else survive?
Katya stood slowly and tried to gain her balance while realizing just how mind-numbingly cold it was. She shuffled painfully toward the dropship. Orange light reflected off the snow and bathed the surrounding forest in an eerie light.
Off to her left, there was a shape in the snow that she’d thought was debris at first, but it was a human body. Laying face up in the snow, Doctor Christian Blake’s eyes were open. He did not blink, and his pupils were distant and fixed. Katya frowned. The pediatrician was dead. She bent down and closed his eyes. Before pulling her hand away she touched his cheek lightly.
You were a good man.
Katya wobbled back to a standing position. Walking hurt, as every fallen branch and root hidden by the 20 centimeters of snow snagged her feet and jerked her aching body. She moved closer to the wreckage and faced the shattered cockpit. Captain Ericksson was clearly dead. His bloodied torso hung headless against the safety harness. The copilot, Lieutenant Portino, was also dead. A large tree branch appeared to have impaled her on the descent. Her face was a grotesque mask of death. Katya turned away and heard moaning from the far side of the wreckage.
Katya limped around the cockpit section and found Adela Canudas sitting upright in the snow, curled around Doctor Thomas O’Brien’s head. The doctor’s neck seemed oddly bent. Katya made her way through the snow. “Adela?”
The petite nurse from Barcelona looked up, her eyes wide in shock. “Madre de Dios! Katya! You survived!”
Katya fell to her knees in the snow beside her friend and touched the woman’s shoulder. Adela flinched in pain. “Are you okay?”
“I think…” Adela took deep breath and winced again. “I think my left scapula is broken.”
“Does anything else hurt?”
“I’m-I’m…” She shook her head and blinked a few times. “Left shoulder. Left hip. Think I took the brunt of the impact there. Everything hurts.”
“Your head?”
Adela smiled wanly. “Hard as ever.”
Katya sighed and smile. She needed Adela to be her calm, cool self, and she seemed to be coming around. “What’s wrong with Dr. O’Brien?”
Adela held up a blood-slicked hand. “Nasty gash on the head. I’ve got a dressing on it, as good as I can, but he’s still bleeding. Pulse is weak and resps are 22-23. His neck is broken at the very least.”
Katya noted Adela’s descriptions were clearly in line with a pediatric nurse thinking clearly. That was good. They needed to be sharp. They were down on an unknown planet that,
while Earthlike, could harbor any number of natural predators, as well as the warring mercenary companies who might or might not ask questions before shooting. Katya ground her jaw. Every mercenary she’d ever known had done more damage than good. Unless they did something fast, O’Brien wouldn’t make it.
“Okay,” Katya said more to herself than Adela. “We need to get him roused if we can.”
“I’m okay,” O’Brien said. He grunted, winced, and opened his eyes. He blinked up at Adela and then at Katya. “What happened?”
“The Veetanho shot us down. We’re the only survivors.” Katya said. “You have a significant head injury.”
O’Brien nodded. “I can’t feel it. That means I’m heading into shock.”
Katya stood and scrambled toward the wreckage. She found a package of their medical supplies and dragged it toward O’Brien. Placing his feet on the package took a moment, but she got it done. She looked at him. “How’s that?”
“How’s what? You need to elevate my feet. I’m getting cold, too.” O’Brien grunted.
Katya looked at Adela. A volume of unspoken data passed between them. “I’ll get your legs up, Tom. Just relax. I’ll take care of it.”
Adela looked down and stroked his cheek. “Relax. We’ll get you covered up.”
Katya looked back at the wreckage. Were there blankets in the first aid kits? Would there be a survival blanket? Something? She turned back and looked at O’Brien. His face was pale and his breathing grew ragged. Adela was crying, and Katya understood immediately. They were medical professionals surrounding by a host of medical gear and there was nothing they could do. O’Brien lay dying from a massive head wound and a likely cervical fracture.
“Tom? We have your legs up and a blanket on. Just relax. Help is on the way.”
O’Brien coughed. “I know that line, Katya. All the old holomovies have it. Something to keep the victim calm.”
A tear burst out of her left eye and raced down her cheek. “You’re going to be fine, Tom.”
“They say that one, too.” He smiled and looked past her. A weak smile flickered across his face. O’Brien licked his lips and whispered, “There’s something about…”
O’Brien’s face twitched into a wider smile and slackened. His chest did not move again. She looked at Adela. The young nurse’s tears looked frozen on her face in the light. In her teary eyes were fear and uncertainty. She thought they were going to die.
Not if I can help it.
Katya jerked her chin, wincing as she did and mentally cursed herself for forgetting her injured neck. “I’m gonna try to get to the survival gear.” She tromped into the snow back toward the shattered cockpit. After a few minutes work, she’d found and removed the main survival kit behind the pilot’s seat. Both radios in the dropship were useless hulks torn from their mounts in the crash. Katya paused before trying to check the command pilot’s survival vest.
Don’t look. Just get the damned radio.
Got it.
She continued to dig in the vest for a moment longer and retrieved the Ericksson’s .45 caliber pistol. From the cockpit, she made her way into the smoldering main cabin. Katya removed the MX-5 rifle that had been strapped to the bulkhead and several magazines of ammunition. The door-gunner’s MX-60R machine gun had been torn away in the crash, along with the door-gunner and the loadmaster. Katya hadn’t seen their bodies and there wasn’t going to be time for a definitive search.
That’s the last time we send a mission without clear rules of engagement established by a Peacemaker, Katya thought. Diplomatic cargo or not. She made her way back to Adela. “Got most of the gear. The radios are useless and this one isn’t going to transmit through this crap. And there isn’t a working flare to save our lives.”
“That would let the Veetanho know where we are,” Adela shuddered. “Was there an emergency beacon working in the cockpit? A crash response indicator?”
“I’ll check it. But we’re going to have to find shelter. The weather is supposed to do nothing but get worse.”
Adela shivered at the fire near the wreckage. The snowmelt from the overhead limbs was putting it out quickly. “We can’t stay here?”
“We’re going to have to move. Just to keep warm.”
“What about CSAR?” Adela asked. “We can’t just leave ‘em a note!”
“They’ll figure it out,” Katya said as she brushed snow off her coveralls. “At least we brought the cold weather gear. Let’s split the gear and weapons.”
She gave the pistol to Adela. With one good arm, she couldn’t handle the rifle. They rigged a backpack out of the survival gear and filled it with the rations and survival water she’d found. There wasn’t enough for more than a few days. The priority was food. They could always melt snow for water. The makeshift pack weighed no more than ten pounds and she slung it gingerly over Adela’s good shoulder.
Katya picked up the heavy rifle and the survival radio. She checked the compass on her wrist slate. The village of New Perth had been due south of their flightpath when the attack came. She had the basic sector map, too, but the weather appeared to be affecting her ability to definitively locate their position. They each had a nice, easy load to manage and could move quickly and, if her instincts were right, they could make it to good, warm shelter in a couple of hours at most. Katya studied Adela’s face in the dim light of the diminished fire.
“Anything else? All right, I’ll lead the way. Keep your communications app open. We’ll see if we catch anything usable.”
Adela cocked her head to one side and gestured towards the wreckage. “And what about that piece of diplomatic cargo?”
* * *
Firebase Alpha, Defensive Perimeter
Colony of New Perth
Snowmass
A lone human male stood in the center of the operations center. Around him, the Zuul mercenary forces kept a quiet watch over the displays and security systems ringing New Perth. In the last seventy-two hours, the Veetanho force’s attempts to probe the perimeter for weaknesses remained at a constant 1-2 attempts every twelve hours. Along the perimeter, humans and Zuul worked together to man the sixteen checkpoints and maintain the thirty-two laser fence security platforms. The temperature hovered near -15 degrees Celsius and the autonomous weapons aboard the security platforms were only guaranteed to perform to a minimum temperature of -30 degrees Celsius. The forecasted low temperature, scrawled on the central board so humans could read it among the Zuul battle maps and documents, read -45 degrees.
The colony mayor, Johann Pryce, frowned at the board. The Veetanho continued to harass his colony defenses and would not negotiate. Alerting a Peacemaker was the next step in the process, and while Pryce was prepared to send the message and arrange for a mediator to arrive and settle the dispute, his Zuul counterpart was not. Krut resembled a German Shepherd that walked upright. His body was not doughy or soft but muscular to the extent the kangaroos were that Pryce remember seeing in the Pretoria Zoo during his youth on Earth. The patch Krut wore over his left eye only accentuated his sour demeanor. But Pryce couldn’t look past the alien’s resemblance to the dogs of Earth. By all appearances, the Zuul were not interested in being mankind’s best friends. Krut’s mercenaries appeared to have taken to the large, comfortable buildings in New Perth’s constant darkness and mind-numbing cold.
Pryce studied the large Tri-V display showing New Perth in the bottom left corner and the Veetanho outpost twelve kilometers to the northeast in the upper right. Crossing the terrain was a ridgeline nearly six hundred meters higher than the valleys on either side. From the ridgeline, powerful springs fed creeks that became rivers giving lifeblood to the two settlements. They should have had everything they needed, but Pryce believed the Veetanho were preparing to mine the higher ground. The little bastards were positioning equipment to drill deep into the rock, and that meant red diamonds. What the humans called the Grand Valley possessed rich, dark soil capable of tremendous crop yields when cleared of snow, warmed b
y geothermal energy, and protected by greenhouses. While they could grow wheat, soy, all manner of vegetables, and even rice, Pryce and his colony’s major weakness was their lack of an export. Shipment required capital, and there weren’t enough humans on Snowmass to purchase the food he could produce. If the Veetanho had indeed found red diamonds, though, that could be used to leverage galactic shipping companies and raise the amount of capital in New Perth’s coffers. Pryce believed it was a simple matter. His colony would simply take what they wanted. Human warfare for most of the last millennium revolved around the concept of occupy by force. The Veetanho had other ideas.
His enemy had seeded their valley with mines and other devices to keep the humans away. When it hadn’t worked, the Veetanho had done the one thing he hadn’t believed them capable of doing during the constant darkness of the solstice—the Veetanho had attacked. They held a sizable portion of the mediating terrain when the sun went down. Now, a non-affiliated medical team inbound to help relieve the pressure of his own staff had been shot down over the high country and were missing and presumed dead. The Zuul refused to mount a search and rescue operation without a significant raise in their pay. Given their antics and inherent laziness in the recent week, there was no way in hell Pryce was going to—
“Sir?”
The gruff, soft voice took Pryce out of his thoughts. He turned to see the Zuul commander staring up at him. The dog-like alien’s maw was curled under in what could only be a frown. “There hasn’t been any confirmation of an impact beacon. We will not be launching a search mission based on those criteria. We are not equipped to do so. If you will remember, sir, those criteria are specifically laid out in our contract.”
Pryce clenched his jaw. “I am well aware, Colonel Krut.”
“The transport company is prepared to leave. Given the weather situation, I will not be launching flyers to support their departure. I recommend they follow a track up through friendly territory before boosting to orbit.”
Deathangel Page 34
