Maximum Ice Read Free Page B

thing to say. He left the galley without comment, moving on to the next worry.
    Zoya took out the piece of crystal and rubbed her finger along its smooth side. Leaning into the comm node, she hailed Fyodor, whose shadow she could see moving in the bright tent. “By the way, Fyodor, thank you for the gift.”
    She placed the crystal on the table in front of her. In the semidark galley, it lay torpid, bleached of color.
    “Fyodor?” She shouldn’t disturb his work. But since she already had, he should answer. “Fyodor?”
    No response. Again she punched in the code for the remote unit, hailing him.
    On-screen, the predawn had turned the world ghostly gray The tent, vivid yellow, sat in a puddle of light like melted butter. Fyodor was moving inside the tent. There were two people in the tent. The other guard would be outside. Still…
    She punched in the cockpit. “Margit?”
    When the copilot answered, Zoya said, “This is Zoya. Just checking, but from this node I can’t hail the research tent.”
    “Stand by.” A click, and Zoya was on hold. She rose, gazing at the view screen. Now there was only one person in the tent, hunkered over. The drill was giving Fyodor a bad time.
    More clicks. Margit would take the comm problem seriously. From a long space tradition, any mechanical problem, no matter how small, got immediate attention.
    Zoya heard a noise down the corridor. Someone running.
    She strode to the door, seeing Janos hurrying down the corridor toward the cockpit. In the next instant, a braying alarm kicked in, bringing crew into the corridor, some armed, all rushing to stations.
    A movement on-screen caught her attention. Swirling to face the view screen, Zoya saw someone standing outside. It wasn’t Fyodor. Whoever it was, he—she thought it a he—was covered in blood. Crimson rags hung from him like torn flesh. And he was screaming. She could hear nothing, but the strain in the neck and gape of the mouth spoke loudly enough. The figure stood directly facing the shuttle, arms slightly raised, his face contorted in a monstrous howl that seemed to be aimed directly at her.
    A spray of sand obscured the viewing lens for an instant. When it cleared, the figure was gone.
    Keeping close to the wall so as to be out of the way of hurrying crew, Zoya made her way to the cockpit. She no more than put her head inside the door when Janos snapped, “Stay out of the way.”
    “I saw someone out there, a stranger…”
    Janos was bent over the controls, punching in the feed from additional external cameras. “We
all
saw him. What do you think the alarm was about?” At the control panel, four views of the tent from ship’s cameras showed a silent scene: tent swollen with light, gray snow turning pink in the sunrise—but all silent, unmoving. No sign of the man in rags. Behind her, several crew had formed up, all guns and boots and wild eyes.
    Janos barked at the pilot, “Tomos, hail the captain, and keep a wide surveillance, this could be just the first wave.” Heturned to the armed unit. “You, you, and you, take the main hatchway, the rest go out the emergency hatch.” The surveillance systems showed nothing, but Janos was taking no chances.
    The forward hatch opened just long enough for five crew to dart out, then clanged shut, leaving behind a patch of cold air. The second unit rushed aft. Amid the flurry of deployment, Zoya retreated to the galley, where she opened the comm node to hear what was transpiring in the cockpit. The view screen showed crew moving up on the tent—no sign of the man in rags.
    Then, as the sun crested the hills, Zoya could just make out a figure approaching, but still some one hundred meters away Someone was gliding over the ground toward the ship—moving fast enough that he might be flying or skating. Meanwhile, the crew were spreading out, surrounding the tent.
    On comm, she heard Margit say,
“Someone approaching from the west, sir.”
    “Lay down perimeter fire,” Janos