“Welcome to Glaciem,” Makkon said, waving at the soft lights lining the stone walls. Half of them were off to conserve energy, and he had to admit his home looked more like some ancient crypt than someplace to take a woman for a visit.
Several figures were already approaching down the corridor, so Makkon pushed himself to his feet. He knelt in front of Tamryn to untie her ankles. He half expected her to kick him—or try. He resisted the urge to reach out a hand to stroke her calf as he loosened the knots. She would not welcome his touch, not now, and perhaps not ever. Still, however she felt, his feelings for her had not changed. Indeed, when he thought of the way she had kept Captain Porter from locking him in that decon shower and microwaving him to death, Makkon wanting nothing more than to pull Tamryn into his arms for a kiss. He wished he could show her how much he cared, how much her loyalty meant to him, and that he understood she’d done as much for him as she could.
“Mind if I ask a favor?” Tamryn asked.
“Anything,” he said, looking into her face.
She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times before speaking. Maybe she hadn’t expected such a heartfelt response. And maybe he should have tempered that response with wariness. If she asked him to let her go, that was an “anything” that he couldn’t grant.
“I need to pee before being transferred to whatever prison you have in mind for me.”
He wanted to deny that he had some dark jail cell waiting for her, but even if he offered her his own room, wouldn’t she see it as a prison? There was nothing luxurious about Glaciem, especially not these days.
“A reasonable request.” Makkon pulled out the fob to her flex cuffs. He pressed the button to release her wrists and dipped it back into his pocket.
He didn’t miss that her keen eyes tracked where they went, especially the one that controlled the collar. He smiled, certain she would keep trying to escape. He would not expect anything less.
As he rose to his feet, intending to lead her to the lavatory, he couldn’t resist reaching out to touch his hand to the side of her head. He longed to stroke her hair, but he knew the gesture would not be appreciated. And he was right.
“Thinking about female fertility, are you?” she asked, her eyes hard.
“No.” Reluctantly, he lowered his hand. “Just you.”
She rose to her feet, bracing herself on the wall, her legs probably numb after being tied to the chair for so long. He wished she would have braced herself on him. But she only pushed past him and strode to the back of the cargo area, hunting for the lavatory.
He directed her to it and opened the hatch while waiting for her to finish. A cool blast of air brushed his cheeks as the ramp descended, the icy touch and recycled air of the tunnels familiar. It felt as if he had been gone much longer than he had.
Tamryn took a while, and he wondered if she might be scheming up some means of escaping, though he couldn’t imagine what she would do in there. As he stood by the hatch, debating whether to wait for her or go out and meet the president and their military leaders, she finally came out. She wore the same determined expression as she always did, but a hint of moisture filmed her eyes, and he could smell the saltiness of her tears as she drew closer.
Makkon’s heart sank. He hadn’t seen her cry yet, not as a soldier being chased and shot at, nor as a prisoner with little hope of escape. Did she think her time here would be so awful? Maybe she thought he had been lying to her all along and that she truly had to fear rape and brutality here.
He opened his mouth, though he didn’t know what he could say to assure her that she wouldn’t face anything like that. Before anything came out, someone called to him from the bottom of the ship’s ramp.
“Makkon?” The president stood down there, her gray hair pulled back in a bun, a fur shawl wrapped around her shoulders. She looked from him to Tamryn, a confused furrow to her brow. The other men and women who represented the modest Glacian government stood around her, including Commodore Arkt, the highest-ranking military leader who had survived the war and had been chosen for the limited cryogenics chambers.
“Yes, ma’am.” Makkon walked down the ramp, waving for Tamryn to follow.
She stared at the collection of people, people who would mean nothing to her. A few carried what would seem antique rifles to her, most of them firing bullets instead of lasers, but Makkon didn’t think any of them looked overly militant or brutal, not like the young warriors who had been sent along on the infiltration team.
“What happened?” the president asked.
“More than we anticipated. We had most of the station subdued, but a pirate attack allowed things to get out of hand. And then there was a biological emergency, some alien organism capable of killing anything it comes in contact with. With all of this going on, the scientist civilians had time to figure out a way to escape and knock most of us out with gas through the vents. We were captured, and I was the only one who got away. I would have tried to rescue the others, but the Fleet ships showed up before I had a chance.” Makkon waved upward. “Clearly, the fact that they brought ten warships proves that they have no intention of working with us. If they brought terraforming equipment as part of a backup plan, I’m not aware of it. I didn’t see any freighters among their ships.”
“No,” Commodore Arkt said coolly. “We scanned the ships in our sensor range, and they’re all warships, as you said. You escaped without the others, Makkon?” His voice was full of condemnation, and his gaze flicked toward Tamryn again. He had to be wondering why he had brought some woman along.
“I wanted to make sure we at least got the food that we took from the station.” He pointed toward the cargo bay, where the crates had been loaded. “It ought to help some. And also—”
“Help? A little food? We need the means to make our own food, or all is lost.”
“I know, but we’re not finished yet. I brought Lieutenant Pavlenko here as a hostage. She comes from a wealthy family, who should be willing to negotiate with us to get her back. Even if the military isn’t willing to provide terraforming equipment, it’s possible her family will.” Makkon tried not to imagine Tamryn’s eyes boring into the back of his head.
“Kidnapping and extortion?” the president asked with a frown.
“It’s not so different from our original plan.” Makkon tried not to feel as if they were all judging him. “And I recovered this.” He held up the black recorder the pirates had been using to steal Captain Porter’s notes. He had checked it on the flight here and knew they had recovered a lot of data. Since he had no engineering or linguistics background, he did not know what much of it meant, but he hoped it would prove useful to his people. “Here, Nartz. This may interest you.” He tossed the device to the president’s science and engineering adviser.
Nartz, a lanky man with brown skin and braids of graying black hair, caught it with one hand. “What is it?”
“Information on faster-than-light engines. If we can’t get help with terraforming, maybe we can figure out how to leave this system and find a new place to start over. An easier place.” One without Tamryn? Makkon forced the thought to the back of his mind. He didn’t see any way that his life could include Tamryn, even if he stayed in this system. A depressing thought, but he didn’t know how to fix it.
“Interesting,” Nartz said, “but we won’t have the resources to do anything with the information. We wouldn’t have been able to get into space if that hadn’t crashed on our doorstep last year.” He waved at the mining craft.
“I’m sure you can do something with it. You and Dornic—” Makkon bit off what he’d meant to say. Dornic was Nartz’s nephew, and Makkon had no idea if he was even alive still.
“You’re a hunter, Makkon,” Nartz said with a scowl. “You shouldn’t have tried to be anything else.” He frowned down at the black device. “We’re not going to be able to do anything with this.”
“We could barter for resources, along with terraforming equipment.”
; “With what?” Commodore Arkt asked. “One girl?”
Hardly a girl, Makkon wanted to say, but if he started defending her, they would question his motives in bringing her down here. Glaciem wasn’t tied in to the system-wide network, and nobody here knew what a finance lord was and exactly how much wealth one might have.
“I have a feeling,” President Shenta said slowly, “that we should ready ourselves for an attack, or at least an infiltration. If the girl is important, they’ll want her back. We would have been better off using her as part of a deal back on their station, with all of the other civilians and their research. Bringing her down here...” She sighed. “Makkon, you led them to our doorstep. Before, they didn’t know we existed. Now they’ll know right where to send their weapons.”
“They’re not going to attack with her here,” Makkon said sturdily. He hoped he didn’t sound like he was trying to convince himself. He wished his leaders would at least seem open to his ideas and that they wouldn’t be quite so abrasive. Normally, it wouldn’t bother him, but he was aware of Tamryn looking on. He wanted to appear to be a respected warrior in front of her, not some idiot being chastised by his people. “Her father is an admiral on one of the ships up there.”
“All the more reason they’ll be planning ways to get her back, probably by eradicating us permanently this time.”
“Then we’ll fight them.”
“With what weapons?” Arkt demanded. “We gave everything we had to your attempt. We have nothing left. Nothing.”
He and the president walked away, the others following them. Makkon tried to believe his plan could still work, but he couldn’t help but feel they were right, that he had done nothing but make mistake after mistake on this mission, and that he had doomed his people.
Chapter 23
Tamryn followed Makkon through the big corridor, not because he had tied her up or was forcing her anywhere, but because she had nowhere else to go. After his people—his leaders—had berated him and stalked away, he had stared after them for a moment, looking like a lost puppy, then started walking.
Maybe she should have been pleased that his plan had been rejected, that his people had been disappointed in him, but instead, she felt the urge to console him. She hadn’t been such a perfect cadet that she’d never received a dressing down, and she knew how rotten it made a person feel. This had to be a thousand times worse for him.
The sound of laughter drifted toward them from a side corridor, the noise odd in what felt like a subterranean military complex, a very cold one. Three children ranging in ages from perhaps eight to fourteen raced into view. They wore threadbare clothes, despite the cold, and looked like they could use a good meal. A lot of good meals. The oldest, who was in the lead, almost bumped into them.
“Uncle Makk,” the youngest blurted, a girl with pigtails. “We heard you brought food. Is it true? Are there any sweets?”
“I didn’t check the sugar content of the boxes, Elesa,” Makkon said, smiling, though the gesture did not reach his eyes. “If you go unload the cargo, you’ll be the first to find out.”
He patted them on the backs as the girl and one of the boys raced toward the ship, then glanced warily at Tamryn. Did he think she would think less of him for being friendly with children? That was a strange notion. Or maybe he just expected her to comment on the fact that the food was stolen.
The middle child, a boy of ten or eleven looked curiously at Tamryn instead of chasing after the others. She did not know how to respond to the scrutiny, but offered a quick smile.
The boy leaned close to Makkon to ask, “Who’s she, Uncle Makk?”
“That is Tamryn. Lieutenant Pavlenko.” Makkon wriggled his eyebrows. “She shot me.”
Tamryn blinked a few times at this introduction.
“She shot you? But you’re the fastest hunter in the tunnels.”
“She’s good.”
The boy rose on his tiptoes to whisper toward Makkon’s ear. “She’s pretty.”
“Yes, I noticed.”
“Hurry up, Swarek,” the young girl yelled from farther down the tunnel. “Or we won’t save you any sweets.”
The boy waved and raced off to join his siblings.
“It must be a small place,” Tamryn said. “So far, you’re related to half the people I’ve seen.”
“It is. They’re my brother’s children. They’re very smart, so they were selected for the cryogenics chambers. So was their mother. My brother wasn’t. I help provide for them. Or I did, back when there was game in the tunnels to catch.” He sighed, then continued on. “This way. I’ll take you somewhere to rest until your people contact us and we figure out... whatever we’re going to figure out.”
For the first time, Tamryn considered the ramifications of the story that Makkon had given her back on the station, of a population being decimated—more than decimated—by attacks and having to choose who would be stored away for later resurrection. Her heart ached at the thought of families being separated, some chosen and some told they had to die in the tunnels. What would it have been like for those who had awakened a hundred and fifty years later and found the skeletons of their long-dead kin?
She blinked, tears threatening again. A couple of adults greeted Makkon as they passed and looked at her curiously, so she kept herself together. Everyone was taller and more muscular than average, even though most looked like they had missed numerous meals, but otherwise, they seemed perfectly normal. Perfectly human.
Makkon turned into a stairwell that took them down a level and into a quiet corridor that lacked the foot traffic. It was lined with metal doors, and Tamryn had the sense of an apartment building. The doors lacked numbers, but many of them had animal etchings for decoration. Or perhaps to identify the occupants, she realized, when Makkon stopped in front of one with a dragon that matched his tattoo.
“Your place?” she asked.
The last thing on her mind—or his—should have been sex, but she couldn’t help but wonder what his intent was in bringing her here. He had mentioned resting. That was something she hadn’t done much of lately, but could she sleep while imprisoned down here, wondering what the Fleet ships were doing in the orbit above or around the station? She wished she had a way to communicate with everyone.
“Yes.” Makkon pushed the door open. It wasn’t locked. She hadn’t noticed locks on any of the doors.
Tamryn stepped inside onto a massive black fur hide that took up most of the floor space of the simple room. The head had been removed from the hide, but she imagined that the creature it had come from had been at least two or three times the size of a Paradisian jungle bear. The furniture that lined the walls—a bed, desk, shelves, and dressers—was made from a combination of rock and metal. If Glaciem had any trees or wood anywhere, she had not seen evidence of it. Several guns and bone daggers and axes hung on the stone walls, along with a bow made from some composite she couldn’t identify. A couple of horns and flutes sat on shelves mostly dominated by books, their bindings and pages having a metallic sheen that suggested they were not paper-based. They offered a hint of Makkon’s interests—weapons crafting, geology, and astronomy—but the overall room had a monastic feel. If there was a computer terminal, she didn’t see it. It reminded her of her room on Frost Station Alpha, a transient place meant for short-term living, not a home that housed all of the belongings one had accumulated in one’s life. But then, these people couldn’t have many belongings, could they? The moon had so little to give, and nobody traded with them, offering more sophisticated treasures from the rest of the system.
Her father had called Glaciem a penal colony. That wasn’t true—not according to the history Anise had shared—but it might as well have been. Makkon’s ancestors had been exiled here with no luxuries, perhaps not even the basics necessary to live. That they had survived at all was a wonder. She could imagine why a civilization that had grown up with so little might be bitter, especially when they were aware of what the rest of the system had.
“I know it’s chilly down here to you,” Makkon said, “but the murogath wool blankets are extremely warm.”
He walked past her and patted the bed before opening a door she had guessed fronted a closet. Instead, it led to a surprisingly large bathroom, one that appeared to be shared with the quarters next door. A very normal-looking toilet sat behind a half wall, and there was a stone sink under a mirror. The bathroom did not have a shower, but a large, waist-high tub with built-in benches took up a corner.
“There’s warm water,” Makkon said. “Hot water, really. It comes straight up from some hot springs. I don’t know if you knew, but we have over a hundred geysers on the surface that erupt periodically. As for the tub, you can let the water sit after running the bath or cool it down with some ice.” Makkon opened a cupboard in the back of the bathroom that held blocks of ice, apparently there for the purpose.
Tamryn almost laughed at the idea that his home stayed cold enough that ice could sit around in cupboards. “Why don’t you use the hot springs to heat the compound? Surely some pipes could be run...” She trailed off, eyeing the solid rock walls. On second thought, that would have required a ridiculous amount of work for someone. There did seem to be something built into one of the walls, but they looked like oddly shaped blocks or even fossils rather than part of an infrastructure system.
“I’m not sure. I think we’re all just used to the temperature after a few centuries. Also, if you spend time on the surface, it feels balmy down here in comparison.” Makkon returned to his bedroom and opened a chest. “There are plenty of extra clothes in here if you get cold. Take anything you want.”
Frost Station Alpha 1-6: The Complete Series Page 27
