by Michael Ryan
Steep glacier walls jutted into the sky on either side of us, leaving the hunting bear with only one approach. This made our field of fire relatively easy, which, combined with our speed and weaponry, tipped the odds in our favor. As fast as polar bears were – and they were fast – they were still slower than a trained soldier in a suit.
“I got him lit up in my DS,” I said. I thumbed a heat-signature tracking program to life and watched the big animal lumber toward us on my display screen.
“I’d kill for a hamburger and fries,” Juliana said.
“I’ll take you out for a double cheese and bacon when we get back.”
“If we get–”
“Don’t be morbid,” I said.
She sighed and clicked her tongue. “I don’t know if I can gag down any more bear meat.”
“Beats the alternative,” I observed.
“I’m definitely not eating purvast.”
“You’d eat human if it meant surviving.”
I heard a gagging sound over the comm. “Not a chance, Avery.”
“You will if you have no–” I stopped short as the ice vibrated under my boots. Loud cracking echoed off the ravine face. Snow and shards of ice broke loose along the top as the glacier fractured, dropping an avalanche of sharp spikes and boulder-sized chunks. I instinctively ducked, my pulse thudding in my ears, even though we were far enough from the impact zone that we weren’t in danger of being crushed. The tremors increased in intensity and peaked with five shocking jolts. Falling snow picked up by a swirling wind created a freezing twister that traced the course of the canyon, causing a mini-whiteout in my monitor.
“Juliana?” I called.
A moment later she answered. “I’m good.”
“Hold one. I’m coming to you.” I moved deliberately toward her position, but I couldn’t make her out against the arctic white. I typed a Locate & Path command into my hip-mounted 12-Key All-Weather and waited for her icon to appear on my DS.
Nothing.
“Jules,” I said, “I’m twenty meters away. No visual. Could you light something up?”
I waited. Still nothing. There was no sign of her on my display.
I tried again. “Jules? Juliana? Can you hear me?”
There was no response.
~~~
The lieutenant’s icon blinked on my DS from farther down the canyon.
“Avery, this is–” His voice abruptly cut off and was replaced by crackling, static, and then silence. A shriek from my earpieces squelched, and his voice faded back onto the comm.
“–can you–”
Static and silence again.
“Goddam–”
The comm line hummed like a taut cable in a high wind. My ears strained to make anything out, but all I got for my effort was a hiss.
“Sir?” I replied.
I tapped in a command to locate him.
My display read <
I continued a visual search for Juliana and found her blind. After circling it, I spotted faint tracks in the fresh snow and followed them. Twelve meters away, I stopped at a perfectly round meter-and-a-half-diameter hole in the glacier floor. I braced my feet so I wouldn’t slip in, and peered into an abyss of indeterminate depth.
Her voice crackled over our comm line. “Avery!”
“I’m here, at the lip of the opening,” I answered.
“My leg’s in…it’s…in bad shape,” she said, sounding uncharacteristically tentative and fragile. “I think it’s broken, Avery. Hurts like a bitch.”
Under most circumstances, a suit can cushion a fall onto cement from fifteen meters, higher if the soldier’s athletic and limber.
Unfortunately, nothing about this operation had been anything like most circumstances.
A broken leg in these conditions, suit or no suit, could be a death sentence.
I activated a ranging laser.
“Shit, Avery,” she said when the laser’s beam played across her helmet. “Are you going to shoot me?”
“You’re a good twenty-seven meters–”
She interrupted me, her voice tight. “If you don’t hurry up and get me out of here, I’m going to lose this leg.”
“Hold one,” I said. “I need to get help. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Her response was tinged with something I’d never heard in her voice before – the unmistakable beginnings of panic. “Avery! Don’t leave me here. Please.”
I wanted to comfort her, but the environment was merciless, and she’d need the adrenaline that staying angry at me would ensure. “Hold tight and keep it together,” I said, my tone hard.
~~~
I’m a hundred and ninety centimeters tall in stocking feet and as fit as any drop infantry soldier – which is to say, in the same condition as a world-class athlete – but even so, there are limits to what I can manage. As far down as she’d fallen, I needed the right equipment and more manpower to pull her out. Otherwise, I’d be needlessly risking my skin as well as her chances of survival – a lousy gamble for us both.
I activated my platoon comm line. “Lieutenant?”
Silence.
The rest of the squad and the team of scientists couldn’t have gone far. I walked back to the hole and told Juliana I was going to find the group. She promised to kill me after I rescued her. I was reasonably confident she was joking.
I made my way along the tracks left by the mini-RTTV – the research transport tracked vehicle – that hauled the scientists and their equipment. When I reached the transport, it was empty.
I followed a line of footprints that stopped abruptly at the edge of a fracture, and peered over the edge of what had been a thick slab of ice before it had collapsed from what appeared to be a purposeful line of explosive charges.
My direct comm crackled to life, catching me by surprise.
“Dammit, Avery!” the lieutenant’s voice boomed in my ear. “It’s about time. I need you to lower the basket. Now!”
“Sir,” I answered.
I returned to the transport and retrieved what we referred to as a “body basket,” which was slightly inaccurate – the basket was usually used for transporting field samples and equipment. I carried it to the opening, attached it to the transport’s cable winch, and lowered it over the edge.
“Sir, it’s on the way.”
“Avery,” the lieutenant said, obviously annoyed, “quit calling me sir.”
“Sir?”
“Look, I don’t want to be defeatist, but we’re probably going to die out here. You can drop the military bullshit.”
My voice cracked. “What?”
“I said drop the military–”
“No, no, no. The part about dying.”
He exhaled loudly and the comm line distorted. “Avery, the Tedesconian Army just launched a major Earth-wide offensive. Which isn’t a big surprise, actually, if you’ve been paying attention. I’m confident everything Earthside has been called into defensive action. Which means we’re nothing out here. Just an expendable squad of infantry turned into glorified babysitters to a doomed team of scientists.”
“But the suits, sir? I mean–”
“Yeah, the armor’s valuable. Don’t get me wrong, so are we – in a way. But at the end of the day, we can turn into frozen turkeys in these suits, and after a good scrubbing, the hardware will be as good as new for the next boot.”
I absorbed the news and shook my head. “Jesus, sir,” I said. “I don’t know what to say. You’re sure nobody’s coming to retrieve us?”
When he spoke, his voice was a whisper. “They’ll come for the suits…eventually. Don’t worry – you’ll get a proper burial, Avery. I’m sure of that. Maybe a medal, too.”
A moment later, my DS blinked with a warning.
<
I glanced up reflexively in spite of the impossibility of spotting a threat at that range. All I saw was a sliver of overcast sky, the clouds gray streaks aga
inst the very faintest of blue. A single ivory gull drifted high above the frozen canyon rim, as though taunting me with its freedom. I looked away and swallowed a surge of sour bile that rose in my throat.
The KJL-34 is a high-altitude Tedesconian long-range bomber, and nothing an SDI soldier carries is effective against it.
My screen lit up again, only for a blink.
Then again.
And again.
I realized my system was notifying me that squadrons of bombers were passing kilometers overhead, one or two at a time. I switched off the warnings with a frown and keyed the comm line.
“Sir?”
“Avery,” the lieutenant growled.
“Sorry, sir. What’s your name? I mean, if you don’t want me to call you sir.”
An instant of silence greeted my question before he replied. “Greg.”
“Greg, my suit’s indicating a whole bunch of KJs flying overhead.”
He didn’t answer for a beat or two, and when he did, he sounded distant. “Nothing we can do about it, is there?”
“I know,” I said. “But I don’t like feeling useless.”
“You’re not going to be. I have a mission for you.”
“Sir?”
“Look, I need to explain to you the actual reason–”
The comm cut out. I eyed the screen to see if there was a technical issue, but the system showed the line was still live.
I keyed the comm twice, but all I heard was a crackle.
And then nothing.
“Sir?” I tried. “Sir…Greg? Do you copy?”
Silence.
~~~
When the cable winch finally stopped, I felt a sense of relief. The high-tensile line doubled as a communications wire, allowing nonmilitary and non-suited personnel to access all the military comm lines and send messages to the transport for relay to suited personnel. I moved my cursor across my display screen and read a new message that was waiting for me.
To: Avery Ford, PFC-5 Service #454-8937-349
From: Spencer, Jonathan, PhD, Viral Warfare Research, Section 35-8xx.
Lieutenant Williamsburg is dead.
I am assuming command per Special Order #32-45b, see attached.
Once you’ve verified the authenticity of this communication, please acknowledge.
I opened the attachment, watched a short video clip of the company commander verifying the special order’s veracity, and when it finished and my screen flickered gray, acknowledged the abrupt change of command.
“Good,” my new superior said. “This is Dr. Spencer.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. “What happened?”
“I need you and your partner to unload the transport and bring everything down.”
“Sir?”
“Just follow orders, Ford.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. “Sir, I have a situation here.”
“Go ahead.”
“My partner has fallen into a tunnel of unknown origin. I need the basket.”
His response was immediate. “Negative,” he replied.
“Sir?”
“Follow your orders. Don’t make me repeat myself. I’m sending the basket up.”
“Sir, my partner’s leg is broken. She’s in serious trouble.”
“Ford, listen closely. You’ll unload the transport. You’ll arrange the supplies in an orderly manner. You’ll load the supplies into the basket. You’ll take no other action. Is that clear?”
“Sir, SDI doesn’t leave–”
Spencer’s voice was a bark. “Enough! Follow your orders, soldier. I don’t want to hear another word of insubordination.”
~~~
After the basket plopped over the edge of the ice, I unhooked it, attached it to the transport, and connected my suit. I fully intended to rescue Juliana before proceeding. I’d face a court-martial if I had to, but I wasn’t leaving my partner down a hole because a civilian ordered me to abandon her. I wasn’t even confident his instruction was a lawful order. I figured I’d sort it out later.
I attempted to move the transport.
My screen blinked a warning.
<
Spencer’s voice spat over the comm line as if he’d been transformed into a drill sergeant. “Ford, goddammit. I’m not saying this again. Follow orders or I’ll come up there and kill you myself.”
“Sir.” I unlocked the basket, reattached the cable, and moved it back to the edge. Loading it with the equipment from the trailer took less than fifteen minutes. All the gear, as well as our meager stock of remaining food and water, was neatly stacked in interlocking boxes.
I stepped back and surveyed my work and then keyed the comm line. “Sir, the basket’s loaded. Permission to remain and retrieve my partner after you’ve unloaded, sir?”
“Negative.”
“Sir, it’s…she’s going to die, sir,” I pleaded.
Spencer’s sigh sounded defeated. “Everyone here is going to die. Climb onto the basket and get your ass down here. That’s a direct order. I expect it to be followed immediately.”
I stepped onto the basket and it rocked over the icy abyss.
“I’m aboard, sir,” I said, and then descended into darkness.
~~~
When I hit the bottom of the cavern, I soon discovered I was alone – except for the lieutenant, who was obviously dead. His armor lay supine on the ice, and an indicator light by the medi-port on his breastplate announced he’d self-terminated.
I eyed his inert form in bewilderment. I’d been talking to him only minutes earlier.
I sat down heavily by his corpse and closed my eyes, suddenly more fatigued than I had been the entire trip.
The lieutenant’s suicide catapulted me into a past I’d done my best to bury. I was fourteen years old again. I’d taken to bringing meals to a veteran named Eldridge, who lived next door. Eldridge had lost both his legs in an offensive on Purvas, where he’d been regular infantry. That was before they’d developed suits that did much more than stop a small-arms round, and a grenade had claimed his legs as he’d been returning to his rescue ship to be pulled from the fray.
Eldridge was grateful for my willingness to help him, and repaid me by telling me endless war stories, making the action sound so real and so exciting that it played a huge part in my ultimate decision to enlist. We would spend countless hours on his shabby porch, Ruby, his dog, by his side, as he described ambushes and near misses and victories in exotic locales – heady stuff to an adolescent coming into his own, fueled by testosterone, dreaming of escaping a mundane life in a small town where nothing ever happened and nobody did anything that mattered.
Eight months after taking Eldridge a meal for the first time, I showed up at his ramshackle house with the usual bag of mashed potatoes and chicken thighs. I knew immediately something was wrong when I heard Ruby howling from inside, the sound so filled with anguish that my breath caught in my throat.
I tried the front door. It opened.
Ruby was lying on the floor by her master’s side. She looked up at me as I entered, her eyes radiating a pain so palpable my chest tightened when I saw her.
Eldridge had finally succumbed to the darkness that had clouded his expression from time to time. He’d obviously fallen into a despair so deep there was no escape, and had sought relief by eating his pistol.
I adopted Ruby, who made it three years before she passed away. To this day I’m convinced she died of a broken heart, as had her master, even if he wouldn’t have described it that way.
I opened my eyes and regarded the lieutenant’s suit. The light on his breastplate continued to strobe softly.
I couldn’t imagine his motive for committing suicide, and I lacked the authority to get into his system to see if he’d left any messages or clues. There was nothing I could do for him, so I unloaded the equipment and stacked everything into organized rows, using the time to contemplate why my superior officer would take his own life.
<
br /> I wanted to rescue Juliana, but Spencer had programmed it so I couldn’t operate the winch, leaving me no way to get back to the surface.
A brief check of my screen status indicated that two other soldiers could still be alive. I attempted to contact them, first with the infrared, then via standard radio. Neither Sergeant Daniels nor PFC-4 Douglas answered.
Ten minutes later, an opening at the far end of the cavern lit with a bright white glow. Shadows stretched like ink stains across the icy floor, and my throat instinctively tightened. Spencer appeared and looked me over with a scowl. “Private Ford, I’m glad you came to your senses.”
“Sir, where’s the rest of the crew?”
“This way,” he said.
I followed obediently. We walked into a tunnel that had obviously been machined through the ice, and entered a chamber, its redi-fill concrete walls lined with scientific equipment. I stared in confusion at the array of gear and frowned behind my faceplate.
“Sir, I think I deserve…an explanation.”
Spencer considered me for a long beat. “I agree, PFC Ford. Sit. I’m going to reveal why we’re here. It’s a secret that will alter the course of the war. If we’re successful, we’ll change the history of two planets and bring about interplanetary peace.”
CHAPTER TWO
This unfortunate race, whom we had been taking so much pains to save and to civilize, have by their unexpected desertion and ferocious barbarities justified extermination.
~ Thomas Jefferson
Eighteen Months after the Arctic Mission
June 25, 2301 Human Common Era
Central Guritain Territories, Earth
Major Balestain of the Tedesconian infantry, his copper complexion burnished the color of aged saddle leather and his skin mottled by scars acquired during a lifetime of battle, ran a calloused hand over his face. A career soldier, Balestain had refused promotions to the rank of colonel three times during his tour on Earth.
This morning, he’d done his best to hide his impatience at being summoned for a holocall by his superior officer – an unwelcome distraction from Balestain’s duties at the command of his troops – but his annoyance had been clear to all. He’d been offered yet another promotion at the beginning of the call but had politely declined, which had obviously infuriated everyone involved.
