"Yeah," Johnny was puzzled.
"Johnny," Wulf said. "Foxes are white in winter, so-"
"So they can't be seen," said Johnny. "I know."
"What's your point?" asked Blarg.
"We should expect... other difficulties."
"Der triangle thing is guarded?" asked Wulf. "But by what?"
"I dunno," said Johnny. "But good job, Boy. Get the rest of the gear and bring it up. Come on Wulf."
There was another exit from the bridge. The door was unmarked because anyone who didn't already know what it was had no business looking for it. It opened onto a ladder that ascended above the bridge to something that wasn't on the ship's plans.
The airlock cycled open and Johnny, Wulf and Nigel crawled up into the lander. Lifeboat was such an ugly word, and not one that the shipping company enjoyed using. But every captain needed a lander for the occasional sub-orbital trip, courtesy call, and possible terror-stricken flight from a ship in danger.
"I do not like this much," said Wulf, turning up his nose at the bucket seats in uncushioned plastic.
"Yeah," said Johnny. "It's bargain basement all right. But I would guess it would seat six."
"You, me..."
"Squid and Blarg, I'm not leaving them in charge."
"And who else?"
"The Boy."
"But he's just a... well, a kid."
"Yeah," said Johnny. "But he's strong. And while we've got him with us, Isaiah won't run for home without us."
Wulf leaned in closer. "You are not trusting Isaiah?" he whispered.
"Right now," said Johnny. "The only one I trust is you."
"Me, too," said Nigel. It wasn't a question.
"You stay here," said Johnny. "You've been through enough."
"No," said Nigel. "I want to come."
"Er, Nige," said Johnny. "This isn't a Sunday stroll through a nice park. We are going undercover in subzero temperatures on a mythical planet and we don't even know why."
"Yeah," said Nigel. "I know that. But I want to be there when you take the Sherman."
Johnny stared at him.
"Last time I left Ruth in someone else's hands, that was the last time," said Nigel.
"Okay then," said Johnny. "Fine with me." He had his expedition party for the golden pyramid, whatever it was that the pirates wanted with it. "We've been lucky," he said. "But there's no telling how many of them are onboard the Sherman."
"So what are we going to do?" asked Nigel.
"We are going to play along for as long as we can," said Johnny.
"If all the comms lines are out, it means we can string them along for a while. If we're going down to the surface, we can surprise the lander crew there."
"Ah," said Wulf. "This I am understanding. We do der old Danish double-back."
"Quite possibly," said Johnny, never quite understanding.
"What the sneck is that when it's at home?" said Squid.
"We go down to the ground, take der Sherman lander crew by surprise, use their lander to get back to the Sherman, and then take der Sherman by surprise."
"I see," said Blarg. "You wish to parcel out the opponents and keep their numbers manageable."
"Yes," said Johnny. "That way, the odds are merely bad, and not plain stupid."
It was a tight fit in the lander with everyone in their environment suits. When Johnny first put his on, he felt pleasantly snug. By the time he reached the top of the ladder, the sensation had heightened to a tingling on his chest, arms and legs. The effort of merely climbing into the lander, which would have barely broken a sweat on a normal day, made him uncomfortably hot, as if someone was rubbing menthol into his skin.
"I love my suit," said Wulf. "It is so cosy."
Johnny was sure he would appreciate it more on the ground.
Squid was last aboard. He had spent several excess minutes in the nearest toilet pouring cups of water between his outer and inner suit garments. Squid was in a good mood, convinced that he would be able to keep a thin layer of moisture close to him for hours. If it worked, he would consider wearing one of the environment suits full-time, but without the insulation, of course.
Blarg and Nigel were businesslike and dour, eager to get the show on the road. The Boy looked similarly unimpressed, but that was his usual expression so nobody paid it any heed.
There was much rustling in the cockpit as everyone took their seats. The matte white snow camo on the suits caused whirring noises as they rubbed together, and dislodged flakes of white paint onto the cockpit floor. Blarg had imperiously waved a pilot's licence at Johnny and he saw no reason not to let the Betelgeusian fly them in. He put Wulf in the co-pilot's chair because he wanted someone near the joystick who had experience of Arctic weather conditions.
There was some debate over who got to have the Gronk on their lap. The Boy simply twitched in revulsion. The Gronk itself began shivering uncontrollably when placed anywhere near Squid. Eventually, Johnny looked sternly at Nigel, who took the hint.
"Whatever," said Nigel. "I suppose it might be an extra airbag if we crash."
The Gronk immediately went into juddermine meltdown and was silent.
Despite their arguments and confusion, they were still in their seats a minute before launch. Nobody said a word. Blarg fiddled with the scanner fields and gravity deflectors, but kept his hands well away from the buttons that mattered. Wulf peered down at Kajaani, looking for any signs of life. Stuck further towards the back of the cockpit, Nigel and the Boy sat in stony silence with nothing to look at.
As the countdown neared zero, all gazes strayed to the clock.
Ever the stickler for propriety, Blarg reversed the gravity magnets bang on the hour. The lander gently fell free of the China, continuing to rise away from it. The white void of Kajaani scrolled in front of them for a few moments before Squid kicked in the rear engines. There was a muffled rumble from somewhere behind them, and the planet seemed to stop moving. Then, it began to grow gradually larger.
"Remember," said Johnny. "We are minions."
The other passengers turned to look at him.
"There's going to be us, and, I'm guessing six other guys. We've probably never met before, but don't attempt to engage them in conversation. Everyone be like the Boy, okay?"
The Boy blinked in astonishment.
"Sulky and miserable?" asked Blarg.
"Quiet," said Johnny. "Everything about the Boy says 'don't mess with me'. Leave me to do the talking and we'll be fine," he lied.
"Aha," said Blarg. "Something has detached from the Sherman."
Johnny turned to face the back wall and looked through it. His alpha vision seemed to work better in a vacuum, but it was still limited. His mutation didn't include a zoom function. The Sherman was a lumpy metal club about a mile away, its stern sitting thirty degrees above its bow and rising all the time. The Sherman was slowly cartwheeling in orbit. Someone had failed to stabilise it with the rear retros - a sign that the original crew were dead and the ship was being flown by amateurs. The Sherman's lander could also be seen hurtling towards Kajaani. It seemed to be accelerating a little too fast.
Johnny had a better view of the snow planet as they drew near. The white snow, which had seemed unbroken from orbit, was a dirtier affair close up. Rapid rivers tore foaming channels through the ice - meltwater, seeking a new place to settle in the rising heat. Patches of green and brown showed signs of plant life, clinging desperately to the sides of low hills.
"Trees," said Wulf, nodding to himself. To the Viking, trees were a sign of habitability. Given twenty friends and some good axes, maybe some strong girls to sew and make sail, he could have a strong ship in a few weeks, and would sail it over the rapids. Wulf changed his mind as the lander flew over a rush of waterfalls that would smash any Viking ship to pieces in seconds.
The Sherman's lander was ahead of them in a descent spiral. As flurries of new snow spattered against the forward windows, Blarg dragged the controls around and began flyin
g with one eye on the instruments. He looked for a secure place to set them down.
Torrents were gushing from the forward end of a blue-white glacier, extending several miles back until it was lost in the mountain range beyond. A long plain of mud and gravel spotted lightly with patches of snow and ice could be seen. The pyramid sat where the meltwater marsh met the wall of snow and ice, a vast golden shape sitting in the front of the glacier like a giant triangular door. As Blarg looped around over the glacier in search of a landing spot, Johnny saw the other two sides of the pyramid glinting up through the ice, blazing in refracted sunlight to create dancing rainbows and warm colours beneath the glacier. The third face was exposed by the retreating ice, and threw back the light of the sun with a golden glow.
"Is that really all gold?" breathed Squid, his face lighting up.
"How will we carry it?" said Wulf, turning to Johnny. It would take a hundred men a hundred years to break it all into chunks suitable for ferrying away. By which time, of course, the galactic price of gold would have fallen through the floor after the market was flooded with such huge amounts. Isaiah was right, the pyramid was worth more where it stood, where its history and its function imparted it with historical, mythical and sentimental value. Even the Boy stared at it for a while and grimaced appreciatively.
"We must keep this secret," said Blarg, reaching up to activate the landing lights.
"Jah," said Wulf. "Or others will come to steal it from us."
"I wouldn't worry about it," said Johnny.
Except for Blarg, who was easing the lander down onto a patch of ice, the occupants turned to look at Johnny.
"That star could go any day now," Johnny reminded them. "You don't want to be here when it does."
Blarg set the China's lander down a couple of hundred metres from the Sherman's. Johnny popped the hatch and stepped out into the Kajaani day. His first thought was that it wasn't as bad as he had thought it would be. The cold stung his cheeks, but his suit kept him snug. He took a breath and felt something weird in his nostrils; a sensation as if something had given way, tugging deep inside.
"Aagh," gasped Squid behind him. "My nose. It's freezing the snot in my nose."
"Of course it is," said Wulf, perplexed that this had not occurred to Squid before. "It is water, jah? And we are below der freezing point."
Squid tugged and wiped at his nostrils, trying to dispel the sensation. Johnny couldn't resist dragging his forearm across his own nose, wiping an itch that couldn't really be relieved. He pulled his scarf up over his face, leaving only his eyes showing, and made his way down the lander's steps.
The water of the nearby stream was loud, suffused not just with an alien mixture of clicks and rumbles, but also with the sound of countless rocks, boulders and pebbles rolling along in the sway of the powerful current. Not much chance of catching any fish there. If Kajaani had any marine lifeforms, they would be far out at sea where underwater rockfalls would not crush them, deep under the ice, shuffling blindly in the freezing dark.
"Careful," Johnny called back to the others. Preferring the surety of ice to unpredictable boggy ground, Blarg had set them down on a patch of dirty snow. Johnny's boots skidded in search of purchase as he got used to the new surface. Snow floated down all around him, glinting gold from the reflected light of the pyramid.
The wall of ice was several hundred feet high, and yet it only just managed to cover the point of the pyramid. Johnny looked over the smooth metal face for some sign of an entrance, but saw nothing. Sitting near it was the other lander, reminding Johnny to think of some kind of strategy.
"Six of them," he said to Wulf.
"Jah," said Wulf. "It will not be so hard, I hope."
"The odds are in our favour," said Squid.
"Nobody try anything stupid," said Johnny. "Remember, you're minions."
Their criminal targets were clambering down from the Sherman lander, looking strangely comical in their puffy white suits. Johnny decided that there was no time like the present, and began marching across the snowy ground towards them.
"When do we start shooting?" asked Wulf. Squid and Blarg stood ready, their hands on their holstered guns. Johnny looked up at the huge golden pyramid. Getting closer to the Sherman bandits would give him a better chance of springing the surprise.
"Stay here," he called back at Wulf and the others.
Johnny raised his arm in an attempt at a greeting gesture. The leader of the Sherman crew peeled away from the group. His environment suit was the same white with yellow marbling, but all the subsidiary clothing - gloves, balaclava, boots - had somehow escaped the snow camouflage treatment.
The man walked out to meet them, politely pulling off three layers of mittens from his right hand. Johnny followed suit, exposing his naked hand to the Kajaani air. So far, so good.
"Hi," said the man, shaking Johnny's hand with a very firm grip. He pulled off his luminous yellow balaclava, taking care not to dislodge his small round glasses. His bald head shone in the golden glow of the pyramid, and he hissed in irritation at the cold.
"I'm Johnny," he said first.
"I'm Tuka," said Dr Malcolm.
"By der gods," breathed Wulf.
"You said it," said Nigel, checking that his balaclava hid his face.
"This is going to be tough," said Blarg.
The Boy looked at them in confusion. Eventually, even he could not resist. "What?" he asked finally.
"That," said Wulf, "is der doctor from Tammerfors, David Malcolm."
Johnny's hand was starting to ache with the cold. He decided not to stand on ceremony and shoved it back into his mitten.
"Yeah, good idea," said Tuka/Malcolm, doing likewise. "It seems okay for about thirty seconds, doesn't it? And then, pow, it's like your skin is being stripped off." He pulled the balaclava back over his stinging ears.
"What have you got?" he said, patting it back into place.
Johnny looked back at his pitiful posse. None of them had much to say to each other, so they simply stood and watched him. "Six men," said Johnny.
"Any from the Ilmarinen job?" he asked.
Johnny tried not to show his complete ignorance. "Nah," he said.
"Sneck it," said Malcolm. "What happened to Nimbus?"
"Ah," said Johnny. "Passenger action."
"He bought it?"
"Yeah."
"Oh well," said Malcolm. "Come on, guys!" he yelled. "Let's get moving." Malcolm started towards the pyramid, beckoning Johnny to go with him.
"I don't know you," he said. "I guess Alnitak's got a fast through-put of people these days. This is all that's left of mine."
Johnny mumbled something, hoping not to be drawn into a statement that would give him away. This was a last-ditch deal, then. Alnitak's men, and those of his sometime ally Tuka, ganging up for one last... something.
"Don't know about you," said Malcolm, "but we had some trouble on the Sherman. Captain wanted to be a hero."
"Any left?" said Johnny, keen to know what he would be facing on the Sherman.
"Just two of ours on guard. What about you?"
"Enough to keep the passengers under control," said Johnny, hoping he wouldn't be asked for specifics.
"You kill the bird people?" asked Malcolm, in a coldly matter-of-fact voice.
"All dead," said Johnny.
"Good," said Malcolm. "They're screeching sneckwits and they don't pay ransoms. All I've got is muscle." He inclined his head at his men. "You?"
"We lost most of our specialists in the fighting," Johnny lied. "But we've got a pilot, oh, and a Gronk."
Malcolm was unexpectedly impressed. "Fantastic," he said, while Johnny tried to hide his surprise. "That could save us hours, particularly if we've lost Nimbus."
"Why?" Johnny asked. "What's Nimbus got?"
"He didn't tell you?" said Malcolm. "He found this."
The Boy brought up the rear, dawdling in a relentlessly teenage manner. He could not resist glancing up at the huge golde
n pyramid, squinting into its effulgence. There was something haunting about a glowing, regular shape stuck amid all this brutal natural beauty. The Boy liked it. The Boy wished he had a camera, and wondered if anyone else had brought one. In all his wonderment, the Boy singularly failed to hear the large beast that was sneaking up on him.
Johnny grabbed his Westinghouse as soon as he heard the growl. He spun where he stood, just in time to see a white shape detach itself from the snow on the ground and leap towards the unsuspecting Boy.
Johnny fired twice, seeing twin circles of blood open up in the indistinct shape. The beast's velocity caused it to slam into the Boy, knocking them both to the ground.
The Boy screamed in fear and surprise, knowing only that something with bad breath and claws had landed on him. The snow tiger was still alive, its front claws wrenching great, luminous rents in the outer cloth of the Boy's environment suit. Wulf lifted his Happy Stick in the air, and with a cracking noise, the creature was suddenly silent.
The echoes of Johnny's gunshots still rang around the glacier for a few sustained moments, gaining a metallic, chiming quality as they resounded against the large stretch of nearby metal.
"Thor's pants," said Wulf in annoyance, dropping his bloody hammer onto the snow. The tiger was an impressive looking beast, but he had been forced to wreck its skull. He pulled the dead tiger away from the Boy and helped him to his feet. The Boy trembled like a Gronk on juddermine, spattered with tiger blood, but otherwise unhurt.
Wulf looked down at the creature. Its fur was white with the occasional darker stripe; its skin loose. The tiger had been hungry. Wulf peered around the glacier looking for any signs of other creatures, but there was nothing but the wind-blown snow.
"Nice shooting," said Malcolm, not stopping for a moment.
"What the hell was that?" said Johnny.
"Just a snow tiger," said Malcolm, as if he saw them every day. "Stick together."
The ground here was wetter, warmed by the sun and the latent heat of the pyramid itself. Johnny's boots sank ankle deep in yielding marsh and skidded on patches of unseen ice. Meltwater tumbled from several points where the pyramid face met the glacier wall, snaking across the flat golden surface in large rivulets. A particuarly large water flow spat out from an opening near the base, dropping down across the right of the pyramid and into a large pool several metres across.
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