Alan Foster - The Icerigger Trilogy

Ethan glanced at his wrist thermometer. The exquisitely still landscape shivered in twenty-eight below zero C weather. By mid-morning dark, several hours before the sun rose once again, it would fall to minus sixty-two or three—plus the ever-present wind chill factor. He could remove his survival suit and blend fully with the land. His body would freeze in a couple of minutes.

Hunnar chose that moment to ask exactly the wrong question.

Pointing skyward, he inquired of Ethan, “Which of those is your home world?”

It was several minutes before the salesman could answer, and not all those minutes had been spent in studying the unfamiliar constellations overhead. “I don’t know. It’s far, unimaginably far from here, Hunnar.”

“How many satch?” the knight asked guilelessly, his own gaze roving the night sky.

“Too many to count,” Ethan told him, repressing a smile and wondering why they were both whispering. “The sun it circles is not a very big one.” He gestured upward. “It’s off in that general direction, too far and faint for us to see with our eyes. And there are other stars between yours and mine, some of which have worlds that my people and our friends the thranx inhabit.

He indicated a faintly reddish spot of light. “Far out from that star circles a land where water never freezes anywhere except in machines my people must make for only that purpose.” Hunnar shook his head in wonder.

“So warm. A terrible-sounding place.”

“My people don’t like it much either, Hunnar. But our good companions the thranx thrive there. It’s called Drax IV, and the land tries to eat the people. It’s a strange place. I’ll tell you about it some time.” He returned his attention to the silent wind-scoured ice sea. Snow and ice particles were scudding about, tiny whirlwinds twisting them in the moonlight. Ethan saw invisible dancers in gem-studded gowns prancing beneath twin moons.

“I think I am a little hungry now.” He slapped both hands on the railing. “I’ll join you for supper.”

They went down to the eating quarters for officers and knights inside the central cabin. When the door closed behind them, the only light on deck other than moonlight came from a few thick portholes. There was no movement except at opposite ends of the ship, where the weather watchers paced patiently, their faces muffled with furs. When the sun vanished, it grew cold enough in the night of Tran-ky-ky to chill even a native.

They were watching for dark clouds. They did not see the dark paws that grasped the railing amidships…

ALERT, NERVOUS EYES DARTED across the deck, looking and spying nothing animate. One hand temporarily let go its grip to make a gesture to figures below. Then the figure pulled itself onto the deck. It was followed by companion shapes, indistinct in the darkness.

They walked to center deck, between the two main cabins. Other shapes, coming up on the side opposite, met them there. Soft words were exchanged, firm intentions resolved. Several figures split off from the growing group and moved forward, another chivaned aft. It was quiet on the decks for several moments.

A choked scream sounded from the helmdeck. Within the large group amidships a leader cursed.

A door to the central cabin opened and a figure emerged, silhouetted in the light from inside. Looking about and seeing nothing, the figure turned to go back inside when a clanking sound stopped it. Drawing his sword, the sailor cautiously moved onto the deck to investigate. Then he saw something which made him shout.

“Boarders! The ship is boarded! Wind aboard, men of Sofold… ukk!” His screaming was silenced by a metal shaft which pierced him from sternum to spine.

But the alarm had been raised. In seconds the deck and cabins were filled with milling, cursing, shouting shapes. Figures continued to pour over the railings onto the decks. The situation looked bad for crew and passengers.

Three brown-suited shapes mounted the second story of the main cabin and surveyed the carnage taking place below them.

“Fighting too close-in to pick out friend from enemy,” September declared above the awful sounds of murder, “but if we can keep the rest of them from getting aboard… You and Williams take the starboard side, feller-me-lad. I’ll take the port.”

“I don’t like this.” Nevertheless, Williams unlimbered his own small beamer. They had acquired the three hand weapons through unofficial channels in Brass Monkey, not because it was illegal for humans to carry modern weaponry on Tran-ky-ky, but because September had insisted they’d be better off keeping their capabilities hidden until they knew who was on whose side.

Three shafts of bright blue light jumped down from the cabin roof, struck the ship’s railings and moved along them. The high-intensity coherent light beams swept incipient boarders from the Slanderscree ’s sides, piercing one after another. They hardly had time to scream. They did not have time to get into the fighting.

Seeing this small victory produced a renewed surge of confidence in the crew, despair among their opponents. The sailors redoubled their efforts.

September shifted his beam from the charred top of the railing and played it intermittently on the ice. One burst revealed three ice craft mounted on bone runners waiting nearby.

Changing the intensity setting on his beamer he played it across the deck and sails of one icecraft. Flames lit the night, illuminating the other two craft and their now panicky crews. Those boarders still alive had to fight their way back to the railing. Some made their way back down the boarding ladders they had brought, others jumped and trusted to powerful leg muscles to absorb the shock of landing on the unyielding ice.

Ethan stopped firing, moved across the roof to grab September’s shoulder. “Stop it, Skua, they’re leaving.”

September sighted carefully, fired again. “Just a few more bursts, lad.” A distant scream penetrated the darkness. “I can get a couple more of ’em.”

“Skua, stop it.” Using both arms, Ethan managed to bring September’s gun arm down. The giant gazed back at him. For a brief instant another person stared out of those deep-set eyes and Ethan took a couple of uncertain, frightened steps backward. Then the unearthly glare disappeared and September was himself again.

“Sorry, young feller-me-lad. Been in so many similar confrontations I tend to forget myself, sometimes.” Ethan wondered if the giant meant it literally. “If we let them get away, they may try and kill us another day. However,” he shrugged amiably, “I defer to your gentler sensibilities.”

“Thank you.” Both men looked back to see a disgusted Williams clipping on his own weapon and hurrying below.

Ethan and September used the exterior walks to make their way down to the deck. They found the Tran wizard Eer-Meesach in intense discussion with Hunnar.

“I don’t recognize their trade insignia at all,” the elderly Tran was saying.

Hunnar grunted, nudged a corpse with his foot. “That is not surprising, so far from home. Emblems and insignia would naturally be different and carry different meanings.” He walked away, muttering to himself.

Hunnar joined the two humans as they moved to the railing. September used his beamer on low power wide beam to reveal an irregular path of crumpled hairy forms lying on the ice. Lightly stirred by the wind, they formed a grotesque trail leading toward the distant cliffs.

“The tip of this island would be a good place for raiders and pirates to lair,” Hunnar declared. “Here they could ambush commerce traveling from the west side of Arsudun and lands lying thereto en route to Arsudun city. I would not have thought they would be so bold as to attack anything the size of the Slanderscree, though.”