Alan Foster - The Icerigger Trilogy

“But what if someone should send over a rescue shuttle?” put in du Kane plaintively.

Ethan surprised himself by answering.

“It’s most unlikely anyone would think to search the surface for survivors, sir. If they did, they’d have the whole planet to choose from. Not much chance of picking us out against this ice, us with no power, nothing casting. But if by some wild chance someone did come looking for us and did find the wreck, they’ll assume we’ve started off toward Brass Monkey. They’ll trace us back along the most likely routes. We can leave signs. At least we know it’s somewhere to the west.”

Well, he said to himself, a bit startled, you’ve just articulated your own probable demise, Mr. Fortune. Rather a sad end for the fair-haired young sales genius of Malaika Enterprises, hmmm? That’s right, go ahead and shiver. Tell yourself it’s the cold.

“Like it or not, we’re on our own, as the young fella says,” September added.

Ethan heard himself speaking again. “There is one other possibility, of course.” Even September looked startled.

“His people might decide to come looking for us.” From his corner Walther glared back at him.

“Not a chance,” the little kidnapper spat. “They’re not that imaginative. We’re as good as dead right now. All thanks to him.” He looked at September with bitter hatred.

“There’s enough rough metal around,” the big man replied easily. “You can cut your throat any time you want to.”

“Or yours, maybe?”

September just smiled slightly. “You’re welcome to try, any hour of any day you choose. One way or the other, it would be a solution of sorts for you, wouldn’t it?

“Right now, though,” he said briskly to them all, “I think we should all take a little stroll around the chunk of dirt we’ve run up against. It’s not very big, but it’s home. For another day, at least. Besides, most of you haven’t been outside. It’s time you started getting used to the kind of country you’ll be spending a long, long time with.”

There were no arguments, not even from Colette. It was Ethan who noticed the obvious problem.

“Wait a minute. We only have four sets of ice goggles.”

It was true. Both Williams and the kidnapper were without the vital pair of protective lenses.

The teacher, however, had his own solution.

“I don’t need them, Mr. Fortune. That’s why I gave mine to you.” He dug under his coat, showed Ethan a tiny black case. Carefully shielding it from the steady breeze that blew in past the bent door, he crouched over. When he stood again, he was squinting.

“I wear protoid optical contacts.” He put the case away. “The ones I’m wearing now are high-glare configuration. They’re supposed to be used for intensity sunbathing. I don’t expect to be doing much of that, but they should do for outside, if not as well as the goggles. I’ll manage. They’re more comfortable, anyhow.”

Despite his small stature and soft look, Ethan had to admit that the little teacher certainly sounded competent. He expected they’d have to count on him as a third man if the going got really tough.

Just as he would be depending more and more on September. On a wanted man. Very wanted, by his own description.

Well, time enough for that later, if there was a later. He put a hand on the door latch.

A voice piped nervously from the back.

“Hey, what about me?”

“You’re coming too,” September growled. “I don’t trust you by yourself with the food or the wood. Not til I’m a lot surer of your mental balance.”

“But I haven’t got any goggles or special glasses,” Walther pointed out pleadingly. Clearly he knew what would happen to his eyes under outside conditions.

“A couple of days unprotected and I’ll be blind as a cave cricket! A week or two and it becomes permanent.” Despite the cold, he was sweating.

“Tear some cloth from your shirt or underwear,” September suggested, “and tie it around your head. Use thin dark stuff to cover your eyes. And keep ’em closed as much as possible. You won’t see much, but you won’t go blind, either. Damn sure you won’t try anything.”

“I’ll freeze, too,” Walther persisted. “I haven’t got a survival coat or double set of clothing like you.”

“Too bad. When we get the sled put together, we’ll do what we can to keep you out of the wind. I wouldn’t expect you to do any honest work anyway. Personally, you can stay with the boat and freeze to death, if you prefer. But if you’re coming with the rest of us, you’re coming outside, now.”

The kidnapper gave a little moan and unbuttoned his jacket. Shivering, he began fumbling with the material of a shirt sleeve.

Ethan found himself feeling sorry for the man. It was not reasonable, considering what the fellow had done to them, or planned for them. Nonetheless, it was soothing to his own conscience.

“Wait a minute. Before you start ripping up your clothes, look around in the cabin for a large piece or two of loose padding from the couches. There seems to be plenty lying around. Also loose hull insulation. Try stuffing it between your jacket and shirt. It’ll be clumsy, but it might keep you warm.”

“Thanks. Really, thanks,” Walther beamed, closing his jacket “It might at that.”

“Why bother with him?” asked September casually. “Why not let him freeze?”

“Have you ever listened to a man slowly freezing to death?” countered Ethan.

September started to say something, halted, looked strangely at him and turned away. If pressed, Ethan would have had to confess that he’d never seen a man freeze, either.

“Have it your way, me lad. Williams, keep an eye on him and make sure torn padding is the only thing he picks up. The rest of us will hike.”

If anything, the little island proved to be even smaller than September had implied. Mostly rocks and frozen soil, it didn’t look rich enough to support a bachelor toadstool. Not to mention ground cover, bushes, and fair-sized trees. But they were there. A couple of the scruffy bushes even supported an iron-red fruit that resembled a cross between raspberries and stringbeans.

Ethan considered the fruit, but the parent plant was a blank in his stored memory. He pulled one fruit loose and shoved it in a loose pocket for later consideration. It looked edible, which meant absolutely nothing. It might contain concentrated nitric acid for all he could tell.

There was also animal life on the island, the first they’d seen besides the Droom. Especially little balls of dark fur with bright pink eyes and short, stubby legs. They popped in and out of gopher-sized holes with startling speed.

And once while September was inspecting a particular tree, a pair of creatures like bats wearing mink coats swooped and darted at him. It was all bluff but he moved away. Whatever they were, they probably had a nest somewhere in the upper branches. They continued to insult him from a safe distance.

Ethan tried to imagine what kind of nest arboreals could build that would withstand a good blow on this world. Say, a 200 kph gale straight off the ice. He failed, turned to examine a blanket of thick red moss that grew in the shelter of a rock clump.

Hellespont du Kane was studying the same growth. “You know,” Ethan said to him, “there’s a lot of red in the pika-pina… and now this stuff, it’s almost crimson.”

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” said du Kane. The old man was obviously enraptured. To Ethan it was only an alien fungus. The old man leaned close. “You know, I raise flowers. Oh yes! Considered quite an expert in some circles.” Then something seemed to go click again behind those eyes and the voice turned mercenary. “It might mean there’s a lot of iron or manganese on this world.”