Snowburn

by E J Frost

the lee of the last stack of containers on the

  forecastle. Once the two front prongs unfold

  and connect us with the dock, it’s just a

  handful of strides off the ship. We just have

  to wait for the right moment to escape

  without being seen.

  I step back away from the corner of the

  container stack as the crawler’s lights sweep

  it. Reach behind me and tuck Kez a little

  further into the shadows. I like having her

  against my back. She rests against me, her

  cheek against my shoulder, her hand in the

  small of my back. Warm, reassuring points of

  connection. I can feel her trembling.

  Adrenaline, fatigue, and maybe a little fear. I

  find her hip with my hand and give her a

  gentle squeeze.

  A hydraulic cacophony thunders over the

  wind and water as the bowship’s prongs

  grapple with the dock. The fresh assault on

  my ears makes me wince. No wonder these

  ships are so heavily automated if they make

  this much fucking racket every time they

  unload.

  A high, thin noise joins the mechanical

  din. That’s coming from behind me. I glance

  over my shoulder. Erin’s taken a step away

  from Kez and is searching the shadows. The

  noise is her screaming something at her

  sister. I lean into Kez and shout into her ear,

  “What the fuck is wrong?”

  “Her equipment bag!” Kez shouts back.

  I sweep the two of them with my eyes.

  Kez has her backpack and one of Erin’s

  equipment bags over her shoulders. I don’t

  see the other one anywhere. And I distinctly

  remember two when I pushed the Überbitch

  up the wall.

  I grab Erin by the arm. Haul her up so I

  can shout in her ear. “Leave it!”

  She shoves at my chest with surprising

  strength. “Fuck you!”

  I glance at Kez, expecting her to roll her

  eyes or otherwise express her disdain, but

  she doesn’t. She’s watching Erin, concern

  stamped around across her face. “Where did

  you last see it?” she shouts to her sister.

  Erin shakes her head. I open my mouth to

  tell them to forget about going back for it,

  when the ship stops moving with a bump.

  The noise ends abruptly. Then there’s a new

  noise: the whir of neg cells as the first stack

  of containers rises off the deck. With a soft

  whump, the crawler attaches a cable to the

  stack of containers and tows them down the

  ramp and off the ship.

  “Forget it,” I whisper to the girls.

  “C’mon, we’re gone.”

  Erin shakes her head so hard her hair

  slaps against my shadowsuit. “I have to have

  what’s in that bag.” She hisses. “Kez. Kez,

  please—”

  Kez frowns, closes her eyes for a

  moment. When she opens them, she looks up

  at me. In the dark, her eyes are black holes in

  the gray oval of her face. I can still see the

  fear in them. “Tyng said a person and her

  equipment.”

  I shake my head. I don’t give a fuck what

  he said. I’ve seen bowships unload. Takes

  less than ten minutes. We need to be off this

  ship by then, or we’ve got a one-way ticket

  back to wherever this ship came from.

  Probably Ykimo, on the North Shore. Home

  of Kez’s buddies, the NoBos, the punks who

  put that big hole in her back.

  “I think I know where the bag is.” She

  shrugs out of her backpack. “I’ll go.”

  “You, stay here,” I tell Erin.

  Kez puts her palm flat against my chest.

  “You’re hurt. I’m okay. I can run.”

  “What happened to not getting

  separated?”

  She sighs. Glances to the front of the ship

  where stack after stack of containers are

  trooping down the ramp and onto the dock.

  “How long do you think we have?”

  “Six minutes, tops.” More like seven, but

  I want a little margin.

  She nods. “I’ll make it.” She stretches,

  rolls her neck until it pops. Gives her sister a

  hard glare that I’m not sure Erin can see in

  the dark, but even a blind man could feel.

  “Get her off the ship.”

  “Kitten—”

  “Do this for me? Please? We’re so

  close.”

  That’s when it all goes to hell, in my

  experience. “Five minutes. Then I’m comin’

  after you. Move.”

  Kez nods and takes off at a sprint. I watch

  her for a moment, appreciating the beauty of

  her movement. It’s not quite as effortless as

  that day I saw her run in Eddle, but she’s

  been through a lot since then. Her stride is

  still long and loose. Her arms pumping;

  dreads swinging. I can’t see her face, but I

  can guess at her expression. She loves this

  freedom, the sense of flight.

  I can’t let Tyng take that beauty away

  from her.

  A flicker of white light over my shoulder

  drags my attention back to where it should

  be. The crawler’s back, hooking up to the

  stack of containers two over from the ones

  we’re hiding behind. Fuck, the bastard

  unloading is not wasting any time. If Kez

  doesn’t hurry, she’s not going to have

  anything to hide behind when she gets back. I

  turn to call to her, but she’s out of sight

  already.

  Turning back to the bow, I watch another

  line of containers troop down the dock. It’s

  maybe twenty meters off the ship, and

  another twenty meters before a pair of

  mechanical arms clamp the containers and

  lift them off the crawler’s tether. Once freed,

  the crawler turns and rolls back up the ramp

  to the ship. As it turns, its lights sweep

  across a pool of darkness between the ship’s

  lights and the dock’s.

  “Sweet spot,” I whisper.

  Erin pulls herself forward, holding the

  container for support, and peers around me.

  “Here’s how it’s gonna go,” I tell her.

  “When the crawler hooks up to this

  container, we’re gonna run alongside it to

  that sweet spot. Then we’re going to get out

  of sight until the bowship leaves and we can

  find a way out of the port without being seen.

  Got it?”

  “Yes,” she hisses. Sounds like she’s in a

  lot of pain. Guess the derms Kez had in her

  little first aid kit don’t come in super-

  strength.

  “Can you run?”

  “With help.”

  Great. Looks like I get to tote the

  Überbitch after all.

  The crawler hooks up to the adjacent

  stack of containers in a series of mechanical

  clunks. Neg cells whirring, the containers lift

  off the deck and follow the crawler down the

  ramp, like a string of baby ducks following

  mama. Only these baby ducks are the size of

 
; an industrial hovercraft.

  The port’s mechanical arms reach out.

  Gather the containers. The crawler turns and

  makes its way back up the ramp.

  “This is it,” I tell Erin. Still no sign of

  Kez. She asked me to get her sister off the

  ship, and that’s what I’m going to do. Then

  I’m going back for her. I sling Kez’s

  backpack over my shoulders. Pick up Erin’s

  equipment bag and settle the carrier strap

  across my chest. Makes it awkward to get

  Erin’s arm around my shoulders, but Kez

  managed it somehow and so do I. I grip her

  waist and get ready to run.

  A mechanical whump about a centimeter

  from my ear announces the crawler hooking

  up to the container. The neg cells at the

  bottom of the container whir, blowing a puff

  of dust around my feet. There’s a second

  while everything around me is in motion and

  I’m the only still point. Then I’m moving,

  pacing the container as it shifts against my

  shoulder. Dragging Erin with me. One meter.

  Two. She stumbles and I pull her hard

  against my side, despite the protest of my

  shoulder. Drag her at a fast trot.

  The sweet spot welcomes me like Kez’s

  arms. I leave the thin safety of the shadows

  cast by the container to sink into that deep

  blackness. Once I’m within it, my eyes adjust

  and I can see the collection of low buildings

  that cluster along the side of the dock.

  Machinery hutches, or maybe housings for

  the big magnets that hold the bowship

  motionless. None of them are lit and the only

  movement I see is something small and furry

  that disappears between two hutches with an

  irritated flick of its tail. I follow it, dragging

  Erin, and deposit her in the deep shadows

  between two hutches. Crouching down, so

  whoever is manning the crawler doesn’t see

  me when he swings around, I consult the

  chrono in my eye. Kez has been gone for four

  minutes.

  I wait until the crawler’s lights pass our

  hiding place, then rise. The crawler trundles

  up the ramp, washing the bowship’s bare

  forecastle with its spotlights. There are still

  two blocks of containers sitting on the deck.

  They’ll provide Kez with some cover as she

  emerges. But there’s a thirty-meter gap

  between the last container and the ramp.

  She’ll never cross that without being spotted.

  She needs a distraction.

  I shuck off Erin’s equipment bag and then

  Kez’s backpack. Pull open her backpack and

  rummage around in it until I find the pair of

  laze-sticks strung on monofilament. I

  wouldn’t want to use them in a fight without

  some practice, but against a stationary

  opponent, like one of the bowship’s big

  spotlights, I should be fine.

  I move away from Erin, sliding along the

  row of hutches until I reach the first one on

  the dock. I don’t want to be near her when I

  crack the laze-sticks, in case they light up

  like a supernova.

  When I reach the first hutch, I crouch

  down, grip the laze-sticks in my right hand

  and check the deck again, searching the

  shadows between the containers for any sign

  of my kitten.

  The crawler’s lights sweep across the

  deck. It turns, backing into an alcove beneath

  one of the starboard prongs. More

  mechanical thunks. Magnets engaging, or

  disengaging. I can’t tell which. I grip the

  laze-sticks hard, ready to crack them. Then,

  in the arc of the crawler’s lights, I see a

  gleam between the port containers. A flash of

  pale skin? Wide blue eyes? I can’t tell in the

  shifting light.

  I stand. Take a step out of the shadows.

  The lights are fucking with my night vision,

  but Kez should be able to see me.

  The dock shifts without warning,

  knocking me off balance. I fall into a crouch.

  Grip the rough permacrete with my

  fingertips. The hydraulic cacophony that

  heralded the ship docking starts again. I

  grimace and focus through the banging filling

  my ears. The ship’s leaving. And Kez is still

  on it.

  The ship’s two front prongs uncouple

  from the dock with a thunderous clang.

  Mighty neg cells add their whine to the

  chorus of the ship’s departure. The bowship

  slides back from the dock. A meter. Two.

  Movement on the deck, half-obscured by

  the rising prongs. Kez streaks across the

  gunmetal ceramsteel. She’s sprinting, flat

  out. Arms pumping. Dreads streaming behind

  her. Fifteen meters. Ten. I meet her eyes.

  They’re wide, panicked.

  The docking prongs lock into their

  upright position with a clang. The water

  around the bowship’s float cushion churns.

  The gap between the ship and the dock

  widens. Three meters. Four.

  Kez leaps to the wide rail of the

  bowship. She claws Erin’s bag off her back,

  twists like a shot-putter and slings it at the

  dock. It skitters past me as I drop the laze-

  sticks and rush to the edge of the dock.

  “Kezra!” I roar at her.

  Five meters separate us. Six. Seven. The

  ship’s picking up speed.

  She shakes her head. She’s going to ride

  the bowship back. Back to Ykimo. Straight

  into the hands of the fuckers who nearly

  killed her. With nothing but flesh to buy her

  way out.

  “Kezra! Jump!”

  She bites her lower lip. Gauges the

  distance. Backs up a couple of steps along

  the rail.

  I mirror her. Calculating her trajectory as

  I move. She takes three running steps and

  leaps off the rail of the ship. I match her,

  kicking hard as I throw myself off the end of

  the dock.

  I aim just to the right of where Kez will

  hit. Stretch out my left arm and snag her

  around the waist as the water swallows both

  of us. It’s fucking cold. Knocks the breath out

  of me. Silences the sound of the two shots

  that tear through the water and slam into my

  right shoulder.

  I jerk backwards, dragging Kez with me.

  She struggles toward the surface, but I drag

  her further under. It’s dark; the water’s

  murky. As long as we don’t surface, we’ll be

  hard to spot.

  Kez is struggling wildly, but I keep her

  under for the last meter, until the absence of

  light tells me we’re under the dock. Then I

  clamp my hand over her mouth and push her

  towards the surface. I follow her up; keep my

  hand over her mouth while she snorts air

  through her nose.

  I tread water, holding Kez tight to my

  chest, straining to hear over the lapping

  water and the mechanical noises of the dock.

  A b
lur of movement off the end of the dock.

  A splash.

  Kez’s backpack. That fucking bitch.

  The backpack’s heavy. It’ll sink like a

  stone. I’ve got no idea how deep the water is

  here and even if I could get down to the

  bottom, I won’t be able to see anything in the

  murk. There goes all of Kez’s gear. All our

  credits. I’m going to split that bitch from

  nose to navel when I catch her.

  I tread water, trying to think through my

  fury. Move on to the next thing. Feels like

  I’ve got lead weights on my feet. I cast

  around, see a support pillar outlined by the

  port’s lights, and drag Kez to it. Find a slimy

  handhold. Hold Kez against my chest and

  take my hand off her mouth, let her take a

  deep breath.

  “Quiet, kitten,” I whisper to her.

  She gasps shallowly. “What happened?”

  “I think your fucking sister shot me.”

  She reaches out to the pillar, digs her

  fingers into the slime and grips it while she

  gets her breath. I support her and wonder

  about the absence of pain. There’s a faint

  stinging in my shoulder, but nothing like the

  pain I’ve felt before when I’ve been shot.

  Maybe whatever she hit me with didn’t

  penetrate the shadowsuit.

  That hope’s squashed when I notice how

  dark the water around us is getting. Kez

  notices it too. She holds her hand out, just

  under the surface. The water washing over

  her palm is noticeably red.

  “We’ve got to get out of the water,” she

  hisses.

  “Yeah, okay.” Too bad, being in the

  water is probably why I’m not feeling much

  pain.

  “Right now! There are tegli in this water.

  Go! Go!”

  She pushes me away from the pillar. I

  look around, orient myself. Find the low,

  dark shore a quarter klick away. I glance

  back to make sure she’s following me, when

  something slams into my upper back.

  I go under, struggling, reaching for a

  kukri with my left hand. Groping back over

  my shoulder with my right. Both shoulders

  erupt into white-hot agony. I kick hard, feel

  my right boot impact with something rubbery.

  My head pops to the surface and I gasp a

  lungful of air before the weight on my upper

  back drags me under again. Something bumps

  hard against my left leg.

  White light spears through the murky

  water. Sizzles across my vision to explode in

  a cloud of bubbles and blood below me. A

  dark, sinuous shape twists away from the

  light, slapping my leg with a huge tail as it