by Richard Fox
“You’ve been this way before?”
Masha looked up the mountain. “This is the first place we examined when we came to this palatial ice ball of a world.”
“Let’s talk about the objective.”
“Skiing. Some hiking. Medvedev wishes to paint a landscape for his portfolio,” she said.
“You don’t strike me as a nature girl,” Hoffman said, smiling at her disgusted reaction.
“You should give me a weapon so I can fight when they catch us,” Medvedev said.
Walking beside Masha, Hoffman ignored the legionnaire. “On a scale of one to ten, how are these slopes for potential ski resorts?”
“Double black diamonds,” she said.
“Skiing,” Hoffman said. “A little of this, a little of that. Taking in the sights and doing some skiing here on Koen. I’m surprised Ibarra doesn’t give all his best spies a vacation pass here.”
She glared at him. “You say that like there is only one Ibarra.”
Hoffman hid his confusion by studying the details of her face, trying to pick up on any change of expression that might indicate she was lying.
“We’re not as bad as you think we are,” she said. “The Ibarra Nation would be quite content to be left to our own devices.”
“That’s what you were doing here?” Hoffman asked. “And on Nouveau Marsellie? And New Bastion? Minding to your ‘own devices.’”
Masha winked at him.
They walked for a while, leaning up the steep parts of the trail. King and Garrison chatted back and forth about the terrain and argued about when Garrison would get a turn on point. Hoffman listen to the IR radio communications in one ear but focused most of his attention on the spy. There was no way to maintain visual contact with everyone on his team, but glimpses of individuals appeared between the narrow white trees below him.
“I’ve been this way before,” she said. “I know the way through the mountains. Through the ruins. Tunnels and mazes. Shouldn’t be dangerous, but a person could get lost.”
“I had a buddy who went into the Pathfinders, looking for archaeotech. Stuff like that.”
“Everyone is looking for archaeotech.” She paused. “And here we are.”
Hoffman pinged King’s IR link, signaling him to listen in, then spoke casually. “Doesn’t look like much. The earthen mounds in the valleys and foothills remind me of Koensuu City. Every planet has something similar. That doesn’t mean the secret to galactic survival is here,” Hoffman said.
“That doesn’t mean it isn’t,” she said. “You should know from your briefing that I don’t get sent random places.”
“You’re too good for that.”
“Damn straight.” She stopped walking. “How long are you going to keep our hands zip-tied? Med has a point. He could be useful in a fight.”
“No doubt,” Hoffman said, crossing his arms.
“No matter what you think of us, we’re not friends of the Kesaht. They make no distinction between Ibarran humans and Terran humans. Give my legionnaire a weapon. Something small. Otherwise, he is a liability you must protect.”
“Rather than a traitor who will shoot me in the back,” he said.
“We’re beyond that now. Look around, Hoffman. One mistake and we’re dead.”
“Welcome to the glamorous life of the Strike Marines,” he said. “Enemies on my left and traitors on my right.”
****
“I can lead you through the mountains, through a maze of ruins the Kesaht don’t know about,” said Masha.
“Sounds completely safe. Not at all like a trap,” Hoffman said.
“I had one other friend on this plant,” she said, “and your sniper shot him in the face. Rude, but that’s neither here nor there. I know a little shortcut back to the city that’s nearby. You want to give me a smidgen of trust or you want to stay out here until frostbite nibbles away at your favorite body parts?”
“She’s got a point,” Garrison said.
King slapped the Marine on the back of his head.
“What were you looking for out here, Masha?” Hoffman asked.
She crossed her arms and worked her jaw side to side as they stared at each other.
“Don’t say I didn’t offer. Put that in your mission log: team froze to death out of spite.”
Hoffman waited for Gunney’s response via the IR comms.
“I’ve heard worse ideas,” King said. “If the legionnaire steps out of line, Opal can just crush his head. Or I’ll take him. Either way works.”
Hoffman looked at another storm system creeping over the mountain range, then at Masha. “What does Medvedev mean to you?”
“That’s an interesting question.”
Hoffman waited for her answer.
“He is loyal and skilled. I respect him,” she said.
“He dies first if you betray our mission. And don’t flatter yourself. I’ll take him out first because he’s the greater threat.”
“Agreed, Lieutenant Hoffman.” She pushed her bound hands forward. “You’re an officer and a gentleman.”
Hoffman opened the team link. “We’re moving in five. I’m taking the principal on point to check for an alternate route. King, handle that matter we discussed with the other prisoner.”
Looking up the mountain, Hoffman was skeptical there was a way through the direction she wanted to go. “Lead the way.”
“I’ve got my eyes open,” King replied.
The path grew so steep that he wondered what type of animal could climb it, probably goats or something equally reclusive. The way split off from the valley and seemed to be leading straight into a wall of granite. Tendrils of ice covered the vista. A frozen waterfall stained the stone green and light blue.
“Is this the maze of ancient ruins you’re talking about?” Hoffman asked.
“Are you worried, Lieutenant?”
He shook his head. “No. One thing’s certain. There’s no place here for a secret squad of Ibarran legionnaires to set an ambush.”
“You’ll learn to trust me,” she said.
Once they arrived, the tunnel was hard to miss, but from the trail or from aerial surveillance, it would be invisible. From the miserable little streambed he stood upon, it looked like the open front doors to an alien cathedral. The support beams were carved with symbols and bold lines. Precious metals and gemstones remained where time hadn’t eroded them away.
That a landslide had buried the tunnel entrance was not the bit of operational friction that Hoffman had anticipated.
“We can get us to the city, but you have to trust me,” Masha said. “This is the best way through the mountain pass—unless you want to call in reinforcements and duke it out with the Kesaht.”
“We?”
“I can’t make this climb by myself. It took Med and me nearly a day to set all the anchor points. You’re going to tell me Strike Marines are trained for climbing, but that’s not why I need him. Med knows the way better than I do.”
“You climb with me and Medvedev climbs with Opal and Garrison. Not open to negotiation.” Hoffman motioned for the rest of his team to get ready.
“This would be a lot easier if you weren’t so stubborn,” Masha said.
“Get used to it.” Hoffman followed her up. She climbed well, rarely slowing to check for handholds or reevaluate her route. Before long, they had located the anchor points from their previous visit to the ruins.
“These would be really useful if we had climbing kits,” Garrison said. “You know, a couple hundred meters of graphenium rope. How you doing there, Opie?”
“Opal climb.”
“Not much for conversation, is it?” Medvedev said.
“Use what you have,” King said, ignoring the Ibarran legionnaire.
“We have nothing,” Medvedev said. “The enviro suits you put us in fit poorly and do little more than keep us dry. We have no ropes, climbing kit, or weapons if the Kesaht ambush us.”
“Pray they don’t,” Hoffman said.
&nbs
p; “I have. Many times,” Medvedev said.
“Our Strike Marine gear has carbon line. Use it but don’t rely on it. It’s made to drop into windows, not scale mountains,” Hoffman said, focusing on Masha. Her graceful movements propelled her upward at a pace he found difficult to match, especially while talking to his team.
The rest of the team came next, followed by King. He grabbed one of the anchor points with his left gauntlet and leaned out to look at the rest of the team. “Opal, stay close to Medvedev.”
“Yes, sir.” The doughboy moved methodically, always maintaining three points of contact before reaching to the next handhold.
Medvedev, slightly ahead of Opal, looked down at him. “Is it afraid of heights?”
“He isn’t afraid of anything,” Garrison said.
“Opal climb,” Opal said and then his foot slipped. He replanted it seconds later and continued without hesitation.
“Careful, Opal,” Garrison said, moving on a parallel course to the giants and watching their every move on the difficult ascent.
Opal hesitated. “Fingers don’t fit.” The muscles of his arms and upper back strained as his fingers clenched the vertical outcropping. He started to slip. “Opal should have brought longer rope.”
“Opal!” Hoffman shouted just as the doughboy fell. Garrison lunged for him but didn’t have the leverage or the reach.
Medvedev’s hand shot out like a snake and seized Opal by the wrist. He strained as the doughboy swung from his grasp, Opal’s feet dangling over a very long drop.
“Let go of him before you bring us all down!” Masha shouted.
“Don’t let go! I’m reeling out my tactical cord!” Garrison grunted. “Piece of…”
Hoffman stared past Medvedev into Opal’s eyes. Two Strike Marines with powered armor might’ve been able to save the doughboy. Medvedev was strong, but the struggle to hold Opal was writ across his pained face and strained neck.
“I can’t…hold him…forever,” Medvedev said.
“Screw it! Piece-of-crap latch.” Garrison climbed horizontally and seized one of the anchor points. With his other hand, he pushed up on Opal as King scrambled upward to add his strength to the maneuver. Several tense moments passed before Opal found better handholds.
“You got a grip, big guy?” Garrison asked, his voice an octave higher than it should have been as he gasped for air. “Don’t mind me. I’ve been skimping on my training runs. Little out of breath here. My bad. And this arm is somewhat less than a hundred percent.”
King grunted and cursed as he levered Opal toward a better position. “Note to self, doughboys aren’t made for mountaineering.”
Masha spoke quietly to Hoffman as they watched the Strike Marines and the legionnaire work together. “Your men are brave. Mine is just stupid.”
“Why? Because he’ll have to fight Opal later? How many of us did you hope to take out during this climb?” Hoffman asked.
She hung by one of the anchor points and stared at him. “None, Lieutenant. You Terrans have all the guns. Gravity is a harsh mistress, but I’m not ready to discard you all just yet. There is a place to rest soon if your walking steak doesn’t try and kill us all again.”
****
“I hope you brought us here for more than the view,” Hoffman said.
“Don’t get too attached,” Masha said. “Beauty always comes at a price. In this case, the price is misery.” She hugged herself and shivered in the cold wind of the mountaintop. “Mother Nature is overrated. Sleet and snow will hide us from the Kesaht. And rescue. And the mercy of the Saint.”
“Gunney King promised our Arctic training was so hard reality would be a vacation. I would like to note for the record that the assertion was a gross exaggeration,” Garrison said.
“Watch your zone, Garrison,” King said.
“What zone, Gunney? Pretty lonely up here on the top of the world.”
As Gunney King and Opal did a sweep of the escarpment, King slipped and fell to one knee near the top of the trail. Opal snatched his wrist and heaved him back to his feet before his butt hit the snow.
“You were gonna die,” Garrison said. “Good thing we have Opie.”
“Watch it, Garrison,” King said. “And we’re all gonna die one way or another. Just not until we complete the mission.”
“I love NCO mirth. Makes all this fun.” Garrison indicated the cliffs they had climbed for hours and the contrails of distant air-to-air battles, the sound of explosions booming out of sync with the action.
“Opal never complains,” King said. “He’s a good Marine.”
“Best in the corps. Who’s second-best, Gunney? Don’t say it. We all know how you feel. I’m hungry.”
Hoffman turned away from their banter and found Masha staring at him. She shivered constantly, and although her complaints were politer than Garrison’s constant griping, her expressive eyes sent mixed messages. Help me, Thomas Hoffman. Keep me warm. Take me away from all this.
He blinked the thoughts away.
“Come with me, Lieutenant. Med packed away our extra food and water.” She led him to a rock and started to dig. “Would you be so kind?”
Hoffman scraped frozen gravel away from a narrow depression with his gauntleted hands.
She stood too close. “Our second supply drop was right here. Med made the command decision to leave half what we brought rather than slog it where we are going now.”
Hoffman studied the escarpment. “Nice place for an air drop. Must have been harrowing. What made it worth the risk?”
“We had a well-planned time schedule until a bunch of Strike Marines spoiled it.”
Hoffman cracked open a small cache of supplies.
Medvedev, his hands once again tied in front of him, sat solemnly and watched. “Good thing I didn’t rig up those grenades.”
Inside were a pair of battery-powered thermal liners, climbing gear, and ration bars with non-English writing on them.
“Ooo, bacalao.” Masha held a hand out to Hoffman. “Salted cod. Tastes better than the nutrient mush you’ve forced down our throats.”
Hoffman tossed the salted fish right past her to Opal, who ripped it open and stuffed the whole thing into his mouth.
“Really?” she deadpanned.
Hoffman tossed the rest of the food to his team.
“At least let her put on the heat lining,” Medvedev said. “It would be the humane thing to do. Look at her. She’s freezing to death.”
Hoffman tossed gear and the last ration bar to Masha. “Take a load off. Check your gear. Take in calories. Hydrate.”
“Nature’s calling me,” Masha said. “Now that we’re out of the freezing cold and there’s a minor degree of privacy behind that rock over there…”
King shook his head. “Your enviro-suit recycles your—”
“Filter pockets are full,” Masha snapped. “And you think we’re going to run out of water? If I never see snow again, it won’t be too soon.”
“Search the area,” Hoffman said to King.
Masha rolled her eyes as King went behind the rock and emerged a few moments later and flashed a thumbs-up.
“We start trusting them to do class three downloads and we might as well give them pistols,” King mumbled.
Hoffman didn’t respond.
Masha came back and flicked her hair before she sat down next to Medvedev and tore into an Ibarran ration pack.
Later, at midday, the sky cleared completely and a battle for air superiority raged closer. Hoffman heard the Eagles firing rail guns in the upper atmosphere, the sound reaching his position well after they had lived or died fighting.
“The Kesaht are really bringing it to Koen,” Garrison said as he cleaned his gear and repacked it in his kit.
“Are they always like this?” Hoffman asked. “Berserkers? Mad dogs? Tireless warriors?”
“They are zealots. The Toth convinced them humans are evil. You can expect everything from swarm tactics to suicide attacks. I’ve
watched them plunge their fighters into the hulls of our gunships,” Masha said.
Explosions ripped through the distant clouds like rolling thunder as two waves of crescent fighters sliced over the horizon in pursuit of Terran Eagles.
Chapter 14
“Guess what I’m thinking,” Booker said, barely moving her lips as she lay next to Duke in the sniper perch, her rifle covered with strips of burlap cloth and branches as she stared through binoculars. The two of them were nestled in a tangle of underbrush where two ridgelines converged. The position was high enough to see, but not high enough to silhouette them against the silver skyline.
“Wondering what kind of field meds you’ve got that can ward off cold? Maybe some brandy in an IV,” Duke said, adjusting the focus on his own binoculars and gazing across the mouth of the mountain pass.
“Survey says…wrong. I was fantasizing about the steam tent,” Booker said.
“Me too,” he said. “Or what you and the fine laddies of Koen were doing in there.”
“Creep.”
“You started it.”
“Because I’m freezing to death. Need something else to think about.”
Duke exhaled slowly, wishing for nicotine, caffeine…or anything ending with “ine.” Snow fell heavily between the sparse trees as another storm loomed on the horizon. When it hit, visibility would be crap. “First rule of sniper school. No whining about the cold.”
“That is the twentieth ‘first rule’ you’ve told me.”
“You’re right. We should start from the beginning. Rule one, no whining about the weather. Rule two, everything I say is law. Rule three, no more steam tents.”
“Doesn’t have to be this cold,” Booker said.
“Our armor stays turned off. We’ll stick out like a doughboy in a buffet line if we power up. Anyone with infrared optics will be calling down artillery strikes on our position as soon as they see us,” Duke said.
“You may have a point.”
“Refer to rule number two.” He paused. “Looks like Kesaht vehicles coming out of the pass. Must have found a way around the river or this is another division from another valley.”