“Get up,” he said.
Tears streamed from Eric’s eyes. He didn’t rise.
“Get up,” the soldier said, and before Eric could respond, looped an arm around the scientist’s neck, pulled him roughly to his feet, and dragged him, struggling, into the security shed at the edge of the Ops Bay.
The moment he was inside, he dropped him on the floor and said, “Get yourself together before you’re locked up.”
This was life underneath the ice, and the soldier knew it well. He was doing the prisoner a favor by reminding him of that fact.
Eric tried to compose himself, struggled to make his body move, stand, work.
He risked one look at the blank, glittering helmet of the Vector5 soldier. “Why?” he rasped, scarcely able to speak. “What could be so important? What could matter so much that…what happened…just wouldn’t matter?”
The soldier did not speak. He did not remove his helmet. After a moment he simply moved the end of his rifle, from aiming at Eric’s stomach to aiming at his head, and said tonelessly, “Get back to work.”
Eric got back to work. The pulped body of his friend had already been removed by others just like them-other laborers, other workers just a little too valuable to kill…just yet.
Over a mile away, the DITV began its climb to the side of Tunnel 5, a huge and deadly robotic insect on the prowl. The team knew their mission.
They would be taking no prisoners.
THE ENCAMPMENT
Samantha walked through the encampment without any real destination. She just needed to keep moving-for her peace of mind and for the tiny amount of warmth that movement generated.
She came across Nastasia, sitting in a corner of the roughly hewn ice room by herself, holding her inhaler in one hand and looking thoughtful. Sam had noticed the device when they were still in the Spector, but she hadn’t mentioned it before-there was simply too much going on.
She stopped in front of the Russian beauty. “Hey,” she said.
Nastasia’s head snapped up, surprised by Sam’s sudden arrival. For one moment she looked almost afraid-then just embarrassed.
“I am sorry,” she said. “I do not like to…take care of this…in front of other people.”
Sam gave her a gentle smile. “I am a doctor, you know. I might be able to help you.”
Nastasia shook her head. “I don’t think so. Not with this.”
“Is it asthma? There are many more advance treatments available these days, far past the old nebulizers.” She nodded at the little canniser-and-pump device in Nastasia’s hand. “That looks like a pretty up-to-date gadget, I admit, but-”
“No,” Nastasia said shortly. “It’s not asthma. And I prefer not to discuss it.” Her eyes burned for a moment, and then she looked away. “Thank you,” she said, dismissing Samantha.
“Oh,” Sam said, slightly stunned by the rudeness. “Oh. You’re welcome.” She turned on her heel and walked away quickly, stung by the rejection. Around the next ten-foot pile of debris, she found Simon and Lucas in deep conversation, and she didn’t like what she saw.
Lucas was lecturing their leader-again-and Simon was not taking it well. He shifted from foot to foot, scowled with impatience, tried to interrupt and didn’t succeed, balled his fists and let them loose again, all in an attempt to remain reasonable-or at least give that illusion.
Lucas was holding a complicated bit of robotics, a roughly spherical mechanism with more legs than body-something she had heard called a “scrambler drone,” just hours before.
“You have to understand the scope of what we’re dealing with here,” Lucas began again.
Finally, Simon had taken all he could stand. Samantha could see him snap, even from a distance. She held her breath and tensed; she almost covered her ears in anticipation of Simon’s explosive reaction.
“No,” Simon said, his voice dripping with badly suppressed anger. “I don’t ‘need to understand.’ I understand enough. You need to understand that I’m not waiting here anymore. Now just tell me: where the hell is my father being held?”
She had never heard him sound more tightly controlled…or more dangerous.
“Look,” Lucas said, sounding perilously close to condescending “I don’t think you-”
Simon grabbed Lucas by the neck and yelled, “I don’t give a fuck what you think.”
Max stepped forward and put a hand on Simon’s upraised fist. “Hey, let’s-”
Simon shrugged it off, his muscles tense as iron. “Tell me!”
It was Samantha’s voice that cut through him. “Simon!” she snapped. “Please!”
He faltered then, but only for a moment. His eyes flicked to the side to meet hers, and he abruptly let loose of the scientist’s jacket collar and stepped back, letting the man collapse to his knees, clutching his throat and gasping for breath.
Samantha started to say something more, but Simon held a hand up to her to stop the interruption. He had already communicated what he had intended: there was no stopping him, and Lucas understood that now.
“All right, then,” he said roughly, rubbing his neck. “Traverse the broken tunnel above the Gorge; that will descend a mile onto the opposite side, and take you to Dragger Station, where there are more Vector5 than I’m willing to deal with.” He gave him a hooded, hostile look-no longer the friendly colleague of a few minutes ago. “You’re welcome to take one of the MagCycles with you, if you think you can manage it. And good luck in that frozen hell.”
Simon didn’t thank him. He simply turned and walked out of the encampment alone, finding his small duffel bag and stuffing it with a few of the ration packs they had brought from the Spector and some climbing supplies. Max followed close behind, looking grim and resigned. He knew there was no stopping him at this point.
Samantha’s body had gone cold with the realization of what was coming next. It’s too soon, she thought. Too fast. The team had been given no chance to sleep; they had barely eaten. Their level of tension concerning their own survival was higher than ever, and here was Simon, already pushing ahead.
Ryan stood up and said, “Simon, how are we all going to fit inside one ice cycle?”
Simon turned back instantly. “We’re not.”
“But…”
“But what, Sam? I’m going down myself.”
Andrew shook his head violently. “No,” he said. “No. We’re in this together. You can’t just do this on your own.”
Simon held up his hand again as if he didn’t need compassion any more than he needed argument.
“I need you guys here,” he said. “You need to figure out how the hell to get us out of here.” He snapped a look at his father’s friend. “Hayden,” he said sternly, “I’m counting on you to get back to the Spector and make her operational again before I return. And that won’t be long.”
“You’re daft,” the inventor said.
“…And you’ll need Ryan and Andrew both to pull that off.”
Hayden looked stubborn for an instant. “You’re still daft,” he said defiantly. “You’re right, but you’re still daft.”
“Don’t you think for a moment that you’re leaving this camp without me!” Samantha said sternly.
“I am. They need you here, and so do I.”
Her mouth tightened into a hard line of pain. Nastasia was already gathering her own belongings. “I’ll come with you,” she said as if she already knew what the response would be. “You’re going to need someone to help you navigate, and I’m the only one here who has a sense of the continent’s topography.”
Right then, something clicked inside Simon’s head, as if it was meant to be. The note, the rendezvous, the sign on the back of her neck. It felt as if she was supposed to be here. He could not put his finger on it. He looked at her head on and simply said, “I know.”
Max allowed himself a small smile knowing there was more to this than he originally thought.