Jeff Carlson - The Frozen Sky

Outside, their macabre salvation efforts continued. On the lander’s deck, inside the temporary tent, Johal warmed Pärnits’ disfigured corpse without removing him from the emergency bubble.

The bubble could be deflated. It would become his shroud. They couldn’t afford to thaw him inside the ready room and attempt to reform his skeleton and internal organs before burial or cremation. If he spilled, the smell would permeate their air conditioning and someone would need to clean the mess. Koebsch had been firm. They’d treat their dead with as much respect as possible under the circumstances, but they could not contaminate what remained of their living quarters.

Forty meters from the lander, on the ice, Ash stood with Metzler and Koebsch beside Module 03 as their mecha labored to separate Beth Collinsworth from a snarl of torn wiring.

“Koebsch, there’s another aftershock building in the pit,” Frerotte announced. “You have fifteen minutes.”

“We’ll be done,” Metzler said.

“We won’t,” Koebsch told him. “Come on. Let’s get inside.”

“We’ll be done,” Metzler said.

Vonnie ached for him. She wanted to sit and hold him. She wanted to make him forget. But she stopped herself from breaking into the radio chatter. She thought some of Metzler’s anguish rose from the bond he’d shared with Pärnits as competitors for her love. Their rivalry made them brothers of a kind, which meant her voice would increase his torment. That was why he’d ignored her earlier.

“Ben, get inside,” Koebsch said. “The module is tethered to 05. We’re a long way from the pit in any case. We’ll come back in half an hour.”

“I’m not taking off my suit,” Metzler warned them.

“None of us will,” Ash said. “I promise. Let’s just get inside the air lock.”

“Johal, you need to carry the bubble into the ready room,” Frerotte said on her individual channel. “We don’t want Ben to see it.”

“Roger that,” Johal said. “I need two minutes.”

“Negative. They’re moving toward you now.”

“He won’t bend , Frerotte. The body’s frozen.”

“I, uh… I’m sorry. See what you can do.”

“ Shukriya ,” Johal said scornfully. Vonnie’s station translated the word as Thank you in Johal’s native Urdu. The mild rebuke was as close to acting impolitely as the matronly British national had ever been.

In the ready room, the air lock opened as Johal entered with their makeshift body bag. Outside, Metzler and Ash were approaching with Koebsch, who should have gone to the other lander. He obviously didn’t want to leave Ash alone with Metzler, but the three of them would barely fit, and Vonnie couldn’t let him see her display.

“If Koebsch comes inside, I need to blank my station,” Vonnie said to Frerotte. As the lander’s pilot, safety protocols barred her from using a privacy screen. “Can you keep him on the deck?” she asked.

“What would I say? We’re taking off.”

“He’ll be okay if he clips onto a tether. We don’t have room for three people in armor, and we need to signal Lam. Every aftershock could drive him farther away. We don’t know if the rock’s stable down there or not.”

“Koebsch will hear your broadcasts.”

“Distract him. Ask him to call the Americans.”

“About what?”

“Christ, Henri, I don’t know! You’re the spy. Come up with something.” Vonnie glanced at Frerotte with growing anxiety. He hadn’t been himself since she’d woken up. He’d been indecisive. He must feel as defeated and worn as Metzler and Ash, whereas she’d gained a fair amount of rest.

“I’ll fill Koebsch’s helmet with data requests,” he said finally. “Can you fly and call Lam at the same time?”

“Yes.”

Their sensors indicated Ash, Metzler, and Koebsch were on the lander’s steps. Frerotte said, “You two wait in the air lock. Sir, can you stand by on the deck? We’re crammed tight. I’d also like to call the Americans again as soon as you’re secure.”

“Roger that,” Koebsch said.

Ash led Metzler into the air lock. They braced their gloves and boots against the ceiling and floor, preventing any chance of banging together during airborne maneuvers.

Outside, Koebsch said, “I’m secure.”

“Lift off in four, three, two.” Vonnie eased their craft up from the ice, keeping note of Lander 05, which was a hundred meters to starboard.

“Von, it’s great to have you back,” Koebsch said.

“You hold onto that tether, sir.” She let her sincerity show in her voice. Koebsch was a lunkhead, but he meant well.

What would happen if they told him what they were doing with Lam? Would he insist on transmitting his kill codes? Or, if he saw the majority of his crew acting in concert, would he reevaluate their situation?

Frerotte gave Vonnie a thumbs-up before he raised his privacy screen and linked exclusively to Koebsch’s helmet, distracting him with updates.

Vonnie nodded, then turned to O’Neal. “Less than three minutes before the quake.”

“Corrective sequences ready,” he said.

Vonnie raised her hand to a subset of encrypted frequencies on her display and closed her eyes, feeling as if she was sifting through the blackness. “Lam?”

Nothing.

She upped the gain even though she was afraid doing so would attract Koebsch’s notice to her transmissions.

“Lam?” she said.

His response was immediate:

— Von, listen . Don’t close me down again, please .

Her eyes opened wide as her adrenals spurted, poisoning her body with an old, insidious terror. It was the same plea he’d repeated again and again during their first hours together.

They’d come full circle. All that remained of him was the fragmented personality she’d constructed after Bauman died with the real Choh Lam.

“I won’t hurt you,” Vonnie said as she gestured for O’Neal to launch their corrective sequences. “You and I are friends. Remember?”

— Yes.

A low hiss of static crackled through his broadcast. Lam was far away, separated from her by unknown lengths of ice and rock. “Are you somewhere safe?” she said. “There’s going to be another quake in forty seconds.”

— How many?

“Thirty-five seconds. Are you safe? Rock should be more sturdy than ice. High ground is better than low.”

—I’m experiencing skips in my short-term memory .

Vonnie frowned at the non sequitur. “I can help you determine where you are, but you need to upload your transcripts,” she said.

— Negative. If I increase my bandwidth, your SCPs will get through.

Vonnie muted her station and looked at O’Neal. “He’s on to us,” she said. “Did we make any headway?”

“None of our sequences are complete.”

She reopened her microphone. “Those weren’t SCPs, I swear it. I can help you. We have your original mem files.”

Silence.

The ice rumbled. Outside, below, Vonnie watched as Module 03 trembled and slid. Their mecha clung to the surface. Inside the frozen sky, two of the beacons shut off, crushed by blocks of ice. Another reported a new flow of slush and water as a river broke open above it.

Frerotte leaned out of his privacy screen, murmuring to Vonnie and O’Neal. “Looks like that was it. There may be another quake in ten minutes. Koebsch wants to stay in the air, okay? We need more time to back-and-forth with NASA and the FNEE.”

“Okay.” Vonnie kept her eyes on her display, looking for another transmission from the ice. “Lam?” she said.

— I want to talk , but I can’t let you overwrite my core. Don’t shut me down again, please.