Alan Foster - The Icerigger Trilogy

“How badly did we hurt them ?” asked Ethan tiredly.

“Bad, young feller, bad. But not nearly bad enough. Tomorrow they’ll be all over us. If they should decide to break down that unrepaired runner or to fire the ship…”

“I’d have thought they’d have tried that already. Wonder why they haven’t?”

“Why, lad, this raft’s the fastest thing short of an air-car on this planet. I’d think she’d want it in one piece, this Sagyanak, if she can get it.” He paused, staring into the distance. “Ah, take a look.”

Ethan scrambled painfully to his feet. A ring of nomads, half of the surviving force, were drawn up in a broad circle around the Slanderscree. The rest were returning to the rafts. Archers at the ready rested near the bow, just out of range of crossbow.

“They’ve seen the busted runner,” said September. “And they’re not about to let us fix it, not by the Horse’s Head, what? Any work party we put over the side will get cut to pieces. Somehow we’re going to have to get that thing fixed so’s we can make a break tomorrow. No way we can stand off another all-day assault. We’re almost out of our pacific schoolmaster’s bombs, too.”

It was a grim group that gathered in the captain’s cabin that night.

“There it stands, sirs,” concluded Hunnar. He’d just repeated, with embellishments, what he’d told Ethan earlier. “As is apparent, our chances of repulsing the vermin’s next attack is, realistically speaking, very low. We have few thunder-packages left, few crossbow bolts, and far too few men. When the bombs and bolts run out, they will have us. We must try to break away. Yet we cannot get a crew safely outside to repair the runner.”

“The starboard runner is completely repaired and repositioned,” added Suaxus-dal-Jagger. “I would say that the other would collapse the moment any pressure is put on it. Truly, we cannot move unless it is fixed.”

The raft’s plan was laid out on the table in front of them. Now Ta-hoding, who’d been listening quietly while studying the schematic, spoke up.

“There is one thing that might be tried, sirs.”

“At this point all suggestions are welcome ones, captain,” said Balavere, holding his shoulder.

Ta-hoding leaned forward and ran a finger over the diagram. “We might chop through the flooring around the central runner brace here, and here. Our craftsmen could then work safely from within the raft. Possibly even part way outside, for the enemy will surely be looking only for men trying to slip over the side.”

“Can the runner be fixed from inside?” asked Ethan.

He was disappointed at Ta-hoding’s negative gesture. The captain continued. “Not very well, nor permanently, no. There is no way to perform the necessary final metalwork. But a temporary hold might be fastened through the bolt-holes with double-thick cable, which could then be lashed and tightened around the interior bracing.”

“Sounds not firm,” mused Balavere. “Would it hold at all?”

Ta-hoding made the tran equivalent of a shrug with his eyes.

“There is no way to predict, noble sir. Such an arrangement could hold fast for days. Or it could snap, as the squire says, the moment pressure is put to it.”

“I’m placing this in your hands, captain. Do you think it will hold?”

Ta-hoding hedged, obviously not fond of being put on the spot. Finally, “I would think for a morning, certainly. The cable should be strong enough to handle that much friction, if it is made very tight and does not work loose too quickly. Yes, I would stake my life, it will hold for a morning-time. I will stake my life to it.”

“A safe wager, captain,” said Hunnar. “If you are wrong there will be none of us about to collect. Can this be made ready by morning?”

“Not if we sit here jabbering all night,” broke in Balavere excitedly. “Captain, see to your men and to your repairs. And mind they proceed quietly. We have no wish to arouse the animals’ curiosity.”

Ta-hoding nodded and departed at as close to a run as Ethan had ever seen him use, the schematic of the ship held tightly in his paws.

“Then sirs, if that is all there is to be decided upon…”

“Your pardon, General, but that is not all,” said September. “Let’s say we make the repair secretly and in time. Let’s say further that this jury-rigged setup of the captain’s actually holds together. We pull free of that meat-mountain and start running into the wind. I assume we can make better time into the wind than they?”

“No question of it,” said Balavere.

“All right then, we show them our fundament and laugh ourselves silly as they disappear astern. What’s to prevent them from following doggedly in our tracks… this thing does leave tracks… and catching up with us as soon as that temporary hitch does fail?”

Balavere thought, hesitated. “We must take that chance. Likely we can lose them. Or, not knowing the precariousness of our situation, they may believe we are beyond overtaking.”

“And they may not,” September countered. He looked around the table. This awkward thought which the big man had raised refused to run away and hide. It demanded an answer, and no one had any.

“I beg your pardon, noble sirs,” said Eer-Meesach from the quiet end of the table. “I am not often involved in matters military, I know, and would prefer to shun this one. But I have had a thought. We may have other allies in this.”

“Don’t talk in riddles, wise one,” admonished Balavere. “I am too tired for games, and my shoulder hurts.”

“Very well. Tis a risk, and a considerable one. But as seems certain, our lives are balanced on the blade of fate as this ship is on those runners. One more risk should not drive us onto it any deeper…”

ONE THING, ETHAN REFLECTED moodily the next morning, was that the wind wakes you quickly on this world. There’s no dawdling in bed. Right now he’d happily sign away a year of his life for a modest comfortese bed, which he would immediately set at roasting level before freezing the controls.

He turned and eyed the bow warily. The sailors had withdrawn to the rear half of the ship. Everyone huddled behind something solid in the pre-dawn chill.

There was a violent explosion. A fountain of raw meat and flesh vomited into the clear air. The westwind caught most of it and carried it off at right angles to the ship proper. He stood and stared out across the ice as the enemy encirclement, barely visible in the growing light, scrambled awake at the sound of the explosion. What were the demons up to now?

At least they’d had the pleasure of rudely waking the entire enemy camp. He took a deep breath, but cut it in the middle. Now that the gigantic carcass was laid open to the air, the smell of internal decay slowly permeated the entire ship despite the untiring efforts of the wind to sweep it away.

There was a cry from the lookout and then everyone was running for the stern.

A small cluster of four… no, five barbarians had broken from the circle and were chivaning slowly toward the motionless Slanderscree, moving in single file. They appeared to be unarmed.

“Parley party,” Hunnar explained laconically. “I do not believe we have anything to discuss with them.”

“I beg to differ, friend Hunnar,” said September. “We’ve as much to say to them as we possibly can think of, and for as long as we can say it without becoming obvious. We can gain time for that work crew. They still may not finish in time, but every minute we can stave off the final attack…” He left the rest unsaid.

One of the nomads was helped—none too gently—over the railing. Balavere and the others clustered around him.