The Icerigger Trilogy

by Alan Dean Foster

  “Older model.” September grinned. “Bamaputra doesn’t trust his Tran allies all that much, it seems. Not that it ain’t an efficient killer.” He displayed his own captured handgun. “Both of ’em about half-charged. Use it only as a last resort.”

  Ethan nodded briskly and clipped the gun to his belt. He was no soldier, but he’d done plenty of fighting this past year and the beamer was simple enough for a child to use. Or a primitive alien unfamiliar with advanced technology. You pointed it at a target and pulled the trigger as often as necessary until the charge ran out. He could be at least as accurate as any of Corfu’s Tran.

  The icerigger lurched, nearly throwing his feet out from under him. Ta-hoding turned away from the stern and moved to take the wheel.

  “What do you think, Captain?” September asked him.

  Ta-hoding hardly had time to reply. He was testing the wheel, supervising the storing of the ice anchors, and trying to set sail in an effective pattern. Shouts continued to come from over the stern, were relayed to him by another sailor straddling the aft rail.

  “The steering will hold for a while, friend Skua, but not in a strong wind or at high speed. We’ll push it for all its worth and when it snaps again we’ll have to stop and re-splice it, but not a moment before.”

  “You’ll get no argument on that from me.” Then his eyes widened and he let out a warning bellow.

  His beamer seemed to go off in Ethan’s face, leaving spots dancing before his retinas. When he turned it was to see a Yingyapin soldier falling away from the rail, his face fried, skin and fur burning where the beamer had struck. As Ethan picked himself off the deck September stomped over to the rail and peered over the side, making satisfied noises.

  “You enjoy killing, don’t you, Skua?” He brushed at his survival suit.

  The giant turned on him. “No, young feller-me-lad, you’ve got it all wrong. I don’t enjoy killing at all. What I do delight in is confounding my enemies. That’s always been part of my makeup and always will be.”

  The icerigger groaned and Ethan stumbled again. Several of the mainsails had been let out and now a pair of foresails filled with wind. Ta-hoding handled the wheel as delicately as a lady’s ankle bracelet, making full use of the ship’s adjustable spars as he edged it away from the dock. The first glow of morning was kissing the top of the mainmast with molten gold.

  They were on their way.

  It seemed to Ethan that every plank, every nail and bolt creaked and groaned as the captain guided his vessel out onto the ice. Ta-hoding was trying to steer the ship with wind and spars in order to spare the crudely spliced steering cables as much strain as possible. September beckoned to Ethan to join him at the railing.

  A small armed mob was gathering on the dock. There were no beamers in evidence. The arrows and spears they hurled at the retreating ship fell well short as Ta-hoding brought the icerigger’s bow around, aiming for the harbor entrance.

  A few of Massul’s troops chivaned out onto the ice, more for show than anything else. They posed no real threat to the Slanderscree. They would make a rush, toss a spear or small axe, then fold their dan against their sides and wheel sharply to right or left to keep out of range of those on the icerigger. One bowman ventured too close and caught a couple of crossbow bolts for his trouble. That put an end to any incipient thoughts of pursuit on the part of their former guards.

  They were beginning to move toward the open sea and still there was no sign of reaction from up on the mountainside. Ethan wondered how Massul would react to a thorough explanation of what Bamaputra and his people were up to. Would he believe that his patron humans intended not to help him so much as to cause the deaths of thousands of his own kind so they could then steal his world? That he would be an emperor in name only, lording it over a few sad remnants of a once proud and independent race?

  And what of Corfu? What good would it be to possess a trade monopoly when most of your potential customers were dead?

  Not that it mattered. Even if they could convince both Tran of the truth, Bamaputra would simply dump them in favor of more cooperative substitutes. There are always those among any race to whom promises are more important than truth. In any event he doubted he’d be given the chance to try.

  Ta-hoding was spinning the wheel, heedless now of the potential strain on the spliced cables and shouting at his sailors to back sail. Ethan frowned. Back sail was the last order he expected the captain to be giving. He rushed toward the bow, September leaping from the quarterdeck to join him and landing so hard Ethan thought his huge friend would crash through to the living quarters beneath. The tough wood held.

  Then they were standing side by side looking over the bow as the Slanderscree, which had just been starting to accelerate, slowed to a halt.

  Shining in the rising sun and blocking the entire mouth of the harbor was a metal barrier composed of giant X-shapes made from construction beams. These were attached to a long thick metal tube like so many crosses strung on a post. Each X rested on a pair of metal skates not unlike those which supported the icerigger. The entire massive gate was hinged to a point of land just west of the city. Steady light shining behind windows of real glass hinted at an independent power supply. Even at a distance Ethan could see masses of armed Tran gathering on the rocky peninsula to protect the gate station.

  The barrier completely closed off the harbor from the open sea beyond. Even if they could somehow cut the power to the tiny engines that moved the gate that didn’t mean they could move it. Not if the hinge had been locked in place. The tops of the X’s were four meters above the ice, the connecting metal tube or bar half that. No flimsy construct this, it looked solid and immovable. They were trapped.

  A glance back toward Yingyapin revealed groups of Tran moving back and forth like clusters of ants. Probably someone was talking to installation security on a communicator right now. It might even be that Antal’s security personnel had moved this harbor barrier into position by remote control. If that was the case, it explained the lack of reaction from above. There was no hurry. The escapees weren’t going anywhere. Plenty of time to break out the skimmer with its laser cannon and escort the would-be refugees back to their cells. And Ethan knew they wouldn’t be given a second chance to pull the recycle-the-monitor-view trick.

  Meanwhile the Slanderscree rested on ice topped with three centimeters of water as those on board frantically tried to decide what to do next.

  “Can we hold the ship?” Suaxus-dal-Jagger wondered aloud.

  “Not against heavy energy weapons,” Ethan told him.

  “Suppose,” Budjir said, “we threatened to burn it? That would not matter to the skypeople here, but this Corfu covets the Slanderscree desperately. He would at least argue with them that since we cannot flee they can wait and starve us out.”

  “Now that’s a thought,” September murmured. “Bamaputra’s not the type to waste anything. And keep in mind he wants Hwang and her buddies alive in case any curious types from the outpost come calling to see what’s happened to them. I think you’re right, Budjir. I think they’ll hold off any shooting. They can see we’re stuck here, so why not just wait us out? Better for him if we give up quiet-like. Except we ain’t giving up just yet. We’re leaving.”

  Ethan eyed him sideways. “You just finished saying that we’re stuck here.”

  “The Slanderscree’s stuck. We’re not.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, Skua. I don’t want to go back up there anymore than you do.” He jabbed a thumb in the direction of the mountain and its underground complex. “But at the same time I don’t think we can make it back to Brass Monkey on foot.”

  “I’m not much on sliding myself, lad. That’s why we’re going to take one of the lifeboats.”

  “Are you seriously considering attempting a return to your outpost in one of those tiny craft?” Hunnar asked him in disbelief.

  “Not to Brass Monkey, no. But if we can make it to the southern shipping lanes near Poyolavomaar,
we can hail a trader and buy ourselves passage the rest of the way. If we can make it that far, the young Landgrave will give us a decent ship and the crew to sail her back to the outpost.”

  “I am coming as well,” Ta-hoding told them.

  “Someone who can give orders has to stay with the ship,” Ethan argued.

  “Monslawic can handle command. Already he has proven that. Without me you will not have a chance.”

  “I’d argue you on that,” September told him, “but fight it I won’t. Be good to have you at the helm, Captain. I think we should take that Seesfar gal, too. She knows the territory between here and Poyo better than any of us.”

  “I would rather leave her behind,” Hunnar growled.

  “I ain’t especially fond of her myself, but when you’re trying to save your neck and the necks of your friends, personal likes and dislikes kind of recede into the back ground. You don’t have to marry her, just sail with her. Now what about a representative from our scientific contingent?”

  “Ought to be Milliken.” Ethan looked down on the deck. Williams was deep in animated conversation with Cheela Hwang and Snyek, the glaciologist. “He knows what it’s like out on the ice. The others don’t.”

  Hwang and her colleagues agreed that the teacher was the best qualified of their number to make the journey. This Ethan expected. They were nothing if not sensible. What he did not expect was the ferocity with which Hwang kissed the teacher farewell. That was neither expected nor sensible. Amazing what a little casual conversation could accomplish between intelligent people, he mused.

  “Six then,” said Hunnar as they watched the, crew unlatch one of the icerigger’s two lifeboats. “Three Tran, three human.”

  “Go, husband,” Elfa murmured softly. “Ride the wind back to me. I will be here waiting for you when you return.” Sailors swung the small craft over the side, manipulating ropes and pulleys.

  “Till the next evening.” Hunnar put out his right paw, palm upward, and they locked fingers, then parted. September was already over the side, catching and stowing sacks of supplies. Williams followed, then Grurwelk Seesfar, Hunnar, Ethan, and lastly Ta-hoding, puffing hard and trying not to show it.

  With only six of them aboard they had ample room to move about. It was a much smaller version of the Slanderscree, equipped with four runners instead of five, a steering handle instead of a wheel, and a single folding mast. The raised central cabin provided the only shelter from the ceaseless wind. As they settled in and found places, sailors began to push the little iceboat toward the metal barrier. The central cabin barely passed between two of the welded-beam X-shapes and beneath the connecting bar.

  Then they were on the other side, past the barrier. Ta-hoding, Hunnar, and September fought to raise the mast and lock it into position just forward of the cabin. The single sail was set and secured to the tip of the boom. As wind filled the woven pika-pina the metal gate, the mountains, and Yingyapin harbor began to recede behind them. The icerigger’s bulk was clearly visible, imprisoned on the other side of the barrier. No one cheered their escape, no lookouts waved enthusiastically from their posts atop the masts. If they were lucky, they would slip away without being noticed by those on shore, whose attention should be concentrated on the much larger ice ship.

  As they began to emerge from the shelter of the harbor the sail bulged with west wind and they picked up speed. Freezing water splashed up and back from beneath the bow runner, splattering everyone aboard. Icicles began to form on the boom, the rails, and the roof of the cabin. Water was something no ship on Tran-ky-ky was designed to contend with.

  Utilizing a spare sail from the lifeboat’s storage locker, they were able to rig a crude screen between bow and mast. It slowed them slightly but kept the water off. Williams had been staring intently astern ever since they’d left.

  “No skimmers. That means Bamaputra and his people don’t know we’ve left. They might not miss us for quite a while.”

  “Don’t count on it,” said September, scraping ice crystals from the rim of his visor. “The first thing Antal will do is order a head count. They might not miss the lifeboat but they’ll sure as hell miss us. I’m sure your lady friend will stall them as long as possible.”

  “Yes, Cheela ought to—” Williams halted in mid-sentence and eyed him sharply. “Lady friend? What makes you say that, Skua?”

  “Why, nothing, nothing at all, Milliken. Except she pretty near had you right there on the deck by way of saying good-bye.”

  Fortunately for the easily embarrassed teacher, his skin was much too dark to show a blush.

  XII

  TRAN-KY-KY’S FROZEN OCEAN SURROUNDED them, the rim of the southern continent was rapidly falling astern, and still there was no sign of the expected pursuit. Ethan was beginning to believe they’d pulled it off.

  September stood on Ta-hoding’s right, shielding his visor with one hand while peering into the rising sun. “Let’s turn east for a bit, Captain.”

  “East? But Poyolavomaar lies north by northwest.” The wind ruffled his dense fur. Like Hunnar and Grurwelk he appeared oblivious to the cold.

  “That’s the way they’ll expect us to go. Better we waste a few days by sailing east before turning north. Once we’re sure we’re in the clear we can make a gradual swing back toward Poyo. Keep in mind that those sky boats’ range is limited by the amount of fuel they can carry. The more they waste searching for us where we ain’t, the less likely they are to find us. We sure as hell ain’t going to outrun them. Not in this stuff.” He gestured over the side.

  It seemed to Ethan that the layer of water atop the ice sheet had deepened by half a centimeter just while they’d been imprisoned. That was impossible, of course. Such an increase would require months of heating. But it was hard to escape the feeling that at any moment their little craft might become a boat instead of an ice ship.

  By midday the familiar cliffs which marked the limits of the continental plateau had replaced the unusual gentler slopes which embraced the harbor they’d left behind. The sun was bright and piercing, the air still warm to the three Tran, though not warm enough for the trio of humans to consider doffing their survival suits. At least they were able to flip back their hoods and visors. It was worth a little cold to be able to breathe Tran-ky-ky’s pure, unpolluted air directly.

  “With your hood back you could also hear better, so everyone heard the low, buzzing whine at about the same time. It was loud enough to rise above the whistle the wind made as it passed through the little craft’s rigging. September hurried to the stern where he raged at ice and a mocking fate.

  “How did they find us? How?” He clutched the stolen beamer in one huge fist even though he knew it wouldn’t be of much use against a heavily armed skimmer. Ethan gripped the other pistol.

  “I’m not sure this time they’ll give us the chance to ask questions.” He gestured with the weapon. “Maybe they’ll move in close to check on us and we can pick them off.”

  “Maybe.” September’s tone clearly indicated what he thought of their chances. “Depends who’s on board; humans, Tran, or a mix.”

  Grurwelk had moved to stand alongside them. Now she pointed. “There it is.”

  Several minutes passed before the air-repulsion vehicle had come close enough for the less farsighted humans to pick out the silvery silhouette. It flew swiftly over the flat surface, keeping three meters above the ice.

  “Good tracking equipment.” September was muttering unhappily. “I was counting on them not having any portable stuff. Obviously I was wrong. Or maybe they just guessed lucky.”

  “Maybe it’s our turn.” Ethan slipped his beamer out of sight. “They probably know we took these but they don’t know for sure that we have them here. It’s possible they think they’re back on board the Slanderscree.”

  September hesitated, then shoved his own weapon into a pocket in the pants of his survival suit. “Possible. Not likely, but possible. We’ll find out soon enough.” His eyes watered
as he stared into the wind. “What about the heavy artillery?”

  “I fear the weapon you refer to is indeed mounted on this sky boat.” Hunnar’s query was more hopeful than sanguine as he nodded toward the now concealed pistols. “Can you reach them with those smaller light weapons?”

  “Not if they chose to stay out of range,” September told him. “Better be ready to abandon ship if they start shooting. A heavy energy weapon’ll make splinters of this boat. The air in the wood will explode and the rest’ll burn.”

  “Abandon ship?” Ta-hoding clung to the steering mechanism and uneasily peered over the side at the layer of cold water their stone runners were cutting through. “What if we fall through the ice to the center of the world?”

  “Don’t worry about that,” Ethan told him grimly. “You’d freeze before you could drown.” The notion of swimming was as alien to the Tran as the idea of traveling through the vacuum of space. Not that anyone could stay alive for long in the frigid liquid. It was only six centimeters deep here. Be hard to drown in that. The captain’s fears set him to wondering just how thick the ice sheet was this close to the continent. He knew it was thinner than elsewhere.

  “Slowing up.” September blinked tears from his eyes. “Damn. They must suspect we’ve got the pistols.”

  “Can you make out how many there are?”

  “Two Tran for certain,” said Hunnar evenly. “At least two of your kind. One steering and another seated behind the big light weapon.”

  “Taking no chances,” September rumbled. “So what are they waiting for? Why don’t they finish us?”

  “Maybe they’re having trouble with the gun,” Ethan said hopefully. “Plenty of battles have been decided by weapons that didn’t work properly at the critical moment.”