Matthew Reilly - Ice Station

Snake didn't move from the doorway. He just kept staring at Mother.

When he spoke, Mother didn't see his mouth move. Hisface was low, rough. "I'm here instead of Book," he said. "I'm here to take care of you, Mother."

"Good," Mother said, sitting up straighter, preparing herself for another shot of methadone. "I could use another shot of that kickapoo joy juice."

Snake still didn't move from the doorway.

Mother frowned. "Well?" she said. "What are you waiting for?a gilt-edged invitation?"

"No," Snake said, his voice cold.

He stepped forward into the storeroom and Mother's eyes widened in horror as she saw the light from the corridor outside glint off the knife in his hand.

Mother pushed herself back against the icy wall of the storeroom as Snake stepped through the doorway, brandishing his long Bowie knife. "Snake, what the fuck are you doing?"

"I'm sorry, Mother," he said coldly. "You're a good solder. But you're too close to this."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Snake stepped slowly closer.

Mother's eyes were glued to the glistening knife in his hand.

"National security," Snake said.

" National security ?" Mother scoffed. "What the fuck are you, Snake?"

Snake smiled a thin, evil smile. "Come on, Mother; you've been around. You've heard the stories. What do you think I am?"

"A fucking wacko, that's what I think," Mother said as her eyes fell upon her helmet, lying on the floor of the storeroom halfway between her and Snake. It was lying upside down, with the microphone pointed up in the air.

Slowly, Mother began to slide her left hand down toward her belt.

"I do what's necessary to be done," Snake said.

"Necessary for what?" Mother said as she flicked a button on her belt. The button that switched on her helmet mike.

In Renshaw's room on B-deck, Schofield now had his body armor back on.

He reached for his various weapons. His pistol went into its holster; his knife went back into its sheath on his ankle guard. He slung his MP-5 over his shoulder and bolstered his Maghook behind his back. Last, Schofield reached for his helmet and slid it over his head.

He heard voices immediately.

"? the national interest ."

" Snake, put that fucking ?"

And then suddenly static cut across the signal and there was nothing.

But Schofield had heard enough.

Mother.

Snake was down with Mother.

" Jesus ," he said.

He spun to face Renshaw. "OK, Harry Houdini, you've got exactly five seconds to show me how you got out of this room."

Renshaw immediately ran toward the door. "Why? What's going on?" he said.

Schofield hurried alongside him. "Somebody's about to get killed."

Down in the storeroom, Snake lifted his foot off what was left of Mother's helmet.

The small microphone at the jawline of her helmet lay crumpled and bent, broken beyond repair.

"Come on, Mother," Snake said in an admonishing tone. "I expected more from you. Or did you just forget that I receive your transmissions, too?"

Mother scowled at him. "Did you kill Samurai?"

"Yes."

"You fuck."

Snake was almost on top of her now. Mother shifted against the wall.

"Time to die, Mother," Snake said.

Mother snorted at him. "Snake. I've just got to know. What sort of sick, twisted, two-faced son of a bitch are you?"

Snake smiled. "The only kind, Mother. I'm ICG."

Schofield watched tensely as Renshaw stepped up to the thick wooden door of his room.

Up until that time, Schofield hadn't noticed that the door was made up of about ten vertical wooden planks. Renshaw immediately placed his fingers up against one of these vertical planks.

"The horizontal beams are on the outside," Renshaw said. "Which meant that no one outside this room saw the cuts I made on the inside of these vertical planks."

Schofield's eyes widened when he saw them.

Two thin horizontal lines stretched across the width of the heavy wooden door?like two scars in the wood?cutting across the wide vertical planks. The two horizontal lines ran in parallel, approximately three feet away from each other?at precisely those points where the horizontal beams on the other side of the door would have been.

Schofield marveled at Renshaw's ingenuity.

Anyone standing on the other side of the door would never have known that Renshaw had managed to saw right through the vertical wooden planks.

"I used a steak knife to saw through the planks," Renshaw said. "Three, actually. The wood wears them down pretty fast." He reached off to his right and grabbed a worn-down steak knife and Renshaw inserted the blade of the knife into the narrow gap between two of the vertical planks. Then he worked the knife like a crowbar until suddenly one of the planks popped clear of the rest of the door.

Renshaw pulled the plank clear of the door, and a long rectangular hole appeared in the door where the plank had been. Through that rectangular hole Schofield could see the curved outer tunnel of B-deck stretching away from him.

Renshaw worked quickly. He grabbed the next plank with his bare hands and hurriedly pulled it away.

The hole on the door got wider.

Schofield started removing the vertical planks with him, and soon the hole was wide enough for a man to fit through.

"Stand back," Schofield said.

Renshaw took a step back as Schofield dived, headfirst, through the hole in the door. He rolled to his feet on the other side and immediately ran off down the tunnel.

"Wait!" Renshaw yelled. "Where are you going!"

" E-deck !" Schofield's voice echoed back.

And then suddenly Schofield was gone and Renshaw was alone in his room, staring at the empty square hole he had made in the door.

He peered out through it after Schofield.

"I never dived through it like that ," he said.

Schofield ran.

The walls of the curved outer tunnel streaked past him. He was breathing hard. His heart pounded loudly inside his head. He turned left, headed toward the central shaft.

A thousand thoughts ran through his mind as he raced through the tunnels of B-deck.

He thought of the tattoo on the shoulder plate of the man who had shot him. A cobra. A snake.

Snake.

The mere concept was too bizarre for Schofield to comprehend. Snake was a highly decorated Marine. One of the longest-serving members in the Corps, let alone Schofield's unit. Why would he throw it all away by doing something like this? Why would he kill his own men?

And then Schofield thought about Mother.

Snake was down on E-deck with Mother.

It made sense. Snake had already killed Samurai, the weakest member of Schofield's team. Mother?with one leg and heavily dosed up on methadone?would be another easy target.

Schofield hit the B-deck catwalk on the fly. He ran for the rung-ladder and slid down it fast C-deck. He slid down the next rung-ladder?D-deek?and then the next.

He was on E-deck now. He ran across the pool deck, past the lapping waves of the pool, and headed for the south tunnel.

He entered the south tunnel and saw the door to Mother's storeroom.

Schofield approached the open doorway to the storeroom cautiously. He unholstered his Maghook?he still couldn't use his pistol in the gaseous environment of the station?and held it out in front of him like a gun.

He approached the doorway, came to it. Then he took one last deep breath and then...

... he turned fast into the doorway, his Maghook up and ready.

He saw the scene inside.

And his jaw dropped.

"Holy shit," he breathed.

They were on the floor of the storeroom.

Mother and Snake.

At first, Schofield just stared at them, stared at the scene.