Ben Hammott: Ice Rift

Haax selected a weapon from a rack on the hull wall, pressed it against the beast’s neck and pushed. The weapon hissed. The blue liquid filling the transparent cylinder flowed into the beast. A few moments later the beast’s eye closed. Haax replaced the weapon in the rack and crossed to a nearby control panel. A press of a button activated two straps that snaked out from the floor and over the beast to secure it. Haax left the cargo bay.

The Mimic gazed around its strange surroundings. She felt movement. Whatever this thing was it had entered, it was leaving the planet. She became visible, leapt from the beast and concealed herself in a corner while she waited to find out what would happen next.

DESPITE THE LAYERS OF extreme weather gear wrapping her in its thermal embrace, Jane gasped when a gust of freezing wind gripped her in its icy fingers and squeezed the warmth from her body. It had to be minus fifty at least . She’d never experienced anything so cold or unwelcoming. A tug on the rope attached to her harness caused her to lurch. She had stopped walking. She wiped the build-up of ice from her goggles and amongst the constant stream of snow and ice particles carried by the wind that filled her view, glimpsed a hazy, red form a few yards ahead. The small dark patch of tinted goggles indicated Kyle was staring back at her. Though, like her face, his was completely covered against the biting cold temperature, she knew he wore a worried frown. To alleviate his fears, Jane raised an arm to acknowledge she was okay. Words, however loud she shouted them, were a waste of breath in these conditions. The wind would carry them away immediately they left her lips, which would soon freeze if she removed the thermal mask protecting them.

Kyle waved back, turned around and continued walking. Jane followed at a distance to leave a little slack in the safety line that joined her and her fiancée together. For miles around, the bright red of their matching snowsuits was the only splash of colour in the Arctic’s white wilderness.

The weather forecast, which they’d checked before embarking on their expedition, had failed to predict the blizzard that had arrived so swiftly to trap them in its ferocious embrace of wind and driving ice. Such was the whim of the Arctic for throwing surprises at those who trespass upon its shore. As soon as the first evidence of the approaching blizzard had reached them, they’d immediately ceased their climb up the frozen waterfall of ice melt. Climbing an icefall was something Jane had never experienced before and a thrill Kyle wanted to share with her. It was he who’d arranged this trip; a surprise to celebrate the first anniversary of their engagement.

Eighteen months ago, at the age of thirty, Jane had passed her exams to become a bona fide glaciologist, a career change she’d taken late in life after becoming disillusioned with her job as a market analyst. She had yearned to get out of the constrictive office environment and do something constructive with her life. Global warming had decided her new career choice. To celebrate her success, and gain some much needed experience on the ice, she had joined a field trip in Iceland. It was there she had encountered the rugged, dark-haired, handsome climber, whom she soon discovered was British, three years older than her and a geologist. Though it wasn’t love at first sight, both had felt a strong attraction. By the end of the two-week trip he had shared her bed, and soon after, her love and her life. They’d been together ever since.

They’d gone on many ice walks and climbing trips together. Kyle proved to be a good teacher and Jane soon became almost as skilled a climber as her instructor. She had learnt a lot from his patient instructions, both on the ice, the rock face and in bed. The memory of their love making sent a wave of warmth flowing through her body. She longed to climb in bed with him and snuggle against his warm, naked body beneath the duvet to chase away the shivering cold she currently experienced. By her reckoning, she judged they had about two miles to go before she could turn that wonderful thought into reality.

She stumbled yet again on a frozen ripple of ice, but quickly recovered her balance and battled forward against the strong wind, snow and ice pellets constantly beating at her. For all its hardships, she loved being in this environment.

A wipe of a glove-clad hand removed the latest film of ice to obscure her vision. Someone should invent heated goggles, or ones that had mini wipers on them. She grinned at the thought, and knew Kyle would too when she told him later. She glimpsed the reassuring colour of his bright clothing between less dense patches of the wind-borne snow and ice. Though she wondered how he could navigate in these conditions, she trusted him completely; Kyle had a perfect sense of direction.

About ten minutes later, a strong tug on the rope toppled Jane to the ground. She sped along the ice. Fear of what had happened momentarily froze her. She quickly pushed the emotion aside. She needed to save Kyle. She gripped the ice axe tightly and slammed it into the ice. It stuck. Her body pivoted until her feet faced in the direction of the rope. When Kyle’s weight yanked the tether taut, she kicked the climbing crampons attached to her boots into the ice; they’d had no time to remove them earlier when the storm struck. It did little to lessen the pressure on the arm gripping the anchored ice axe. She groaned in pain, but refused to let go. She turned her head and gazed along the rope tugging at her body. It disappeared into the ice. Her worst fear had been realized; Kyle had fallen into a crevasse.

Fighting the panic that threatened to incapacitate her, she thought back to the training Kyle had instilled in her. She checked the axe was anchored firmly; it was. For the moment both were safe. It was Kyle’s training that made her ignore her first instinct to pull on the rope and help him up. The action could dislodge his tenuous grip on the ice. She was also aware that Kyle, like her, still had his crampons attached and, if he’d not been injured in the fall, should be able to climb out.

A few moments later the stress on her arm faded. Kyle was okay. The sigh of relief she exhaled seeped through her face cover and immediately formed crystals the wind carried away. She climbed to her knees, gently took out the slack in the rope, grabbed a carabineer from the belt around her waist, attached it to the blade of the ice axe and fed the rope through it. The makeshift anchor would prevent Kyle from falling too far if he slipped. Only when she was certain the line and axe were secure, did she disconnect the rope from her harness and move to the edge of the crevasse. She laid flat on the ice and peered into its depths. A relieved smile spread across her lips. Kyle was climbing up the side of the crevasse. A few more yards and she would be able to touch him.

Kyle sensed her presence and tilted his head. The smile Jane couldn’t see, but knew was on his lips, was communicated with a reassuring nod.

The wait was excruciating as her lover, inch-by-inch climbed toward her. She watched him free the axe from the ice, reach out and hammer it in to a new higher position. He then moved one foot higher, kicking the crampon into the ice. His hand then searched for a secure hold in the almost sheer, smooth ice. Jane couldn’t help but admire the man’s skill and strength as his fingers found a small bump in the ice to cling too. At all times he kept three anchor points on the ice. Releasing and then finding another of his anchor points, he slowly climbed up the crevasse. When he was near enough to touch, she wanted to reach out and pull him to safety, but she forced herself to wait.