Ice War, page 8
“You didn’t get us into this,” Barnard said. “We volunteered.”
“What were you thinking?” Price said.
“I had my reasons,” Barnard said. “I guess you did too.”
“A moment of madness,” Price said. “I’m not a hero, like The Tsar.” The words tasted bitter in her mouth and she regretted saying them immediately.
“What are you saying?” The Tsar asked.
“You’re a hero. The Hero of Hokkaido,” Price said. “Heroes always volunteer.”
“Just shows how little you know about me,” The Tsar said.
“Why then?” Price asked.
“Ask Barnard,” The Tsar said. “She always thinks she’s got me figured out.”
“You don’t want to know what I think,” Barnard said.
“I do,” Wall said.
“Feel free,” The Tsar said.
Barnard looked at The Tsar for a long time.
“All right,” she said. “You were the leader of the Hokkaido mission. Rescued a bunch of soldiers from right under the noses of the enemy, but it cost the lives of your team. They made you a hero for it, and you were proud to wear that badge, until you met Ryan Chisnall. He’s a real hero. You’re not. But they called you a hero, so ever since, you’ve been trying to earn it.”
The Tsar stared at her.
“How’d I do?” Barnard asked.
The Tsar still said nothing.
“Is she always like this?” Wall asked.
“Most of the time,” Price said. Barnard could be brutal, but she was seldom wrong.
“Where are the crew?” Barnard asked.
“What crew?” The Tsar asked.
“The tank crew,” Barnard said. “These guys are combat soldiers, not a tank crew. So where are the crew?”
“I don’t know,” Price said. “I’ve been wondering that.”
The centre hatch opened and Nokz’z reappeared, followed, as always, by the Vaza.
He did not speak, but moved straight to Barnard, scanning her face with a flash of green light while the Vaza held a pistol close to Barnard’s head. Nokz’z checked the screen and seemed happy with what he saw, although he did not share his thoughts with the Angels. He repeated the procedure with The Tsar, with exactly the same result, and a slight shake of his head, then moved to Wall, who snarled at him.
The green light highlighted Wall’s features and Nokz’z stared at him for a few seconds longer before turning his attention to the screen. His eyes widened.
“Hold him,” he said, and the Vaza put away her gun, clamping Wall’s head in a steely grip with arms that looked as though they could pop his skull like a pea.
Nokz’z held the device much closer, directly in front of Wall’s eye, and the flash this time lit up only his eyeball. A retinal scan. Why? Price couldn’t imagine.
Nokz’z took the device back over to the control panel and spent some time on a computer. He had a low conversation with someone, although Price could not hear what he was saying. Eventually, he walked back to Wall.
He spoke to him quickly in a strange language, Bzadian for sure with all the low buzzing sounds, but not one that Price knew, or had ever heard spoken before.
Wall stared at him.
“Tell him to get stuffed,” The Tsar said.
After a while, Wall spoke, but to Price’s surprise, he spoke in the same strange Bzadian language.
Nokz’z nodded to the Vaza who moved quickly across to Wall and undid the neck-cuff.
Wall stood, rubbing his hands where the nylon had bit into them.
“What’s going on?” Price asked. “What did he say to you? Why did he release you?”
“I told him I was Fezerker,” Wall said.
“And he believed you?” Barnard asked.
“Yes,” Wall said.
“Why?” The Tsar asked.
“Because it’s true,” Wall said, and added, “bro.”
BOOK TWO – DIOMEDE
Wars may be fought with weapons, but they are won by men. It is the spirit of men who follow and of the man who leads that gains the victory.
– George S Patton
THE BRIEFCASE
[MISSION DAY 2, FEBRUARY 17, 2033. 1000 HOURS LOCAL TIME]
[THE PENTAGON, VIRGINIA]
The man with the olive green briefcase had perfect credentials and, although nobody recognised him, that was not unusual at a busy place like the Pentagon.
It was just after ten am in Virginia. Although security was extremely tight, thousands of people went in and out of the Pentagon each day, through five separate entrances, and it was impossible to know all of them. This man was very ordinary with no distinctive features that might stick in the mind of an alert security guard.
He smiled a little at the PFPA officers manning the security checkpoint, as he had the previous day. Just a little. Any more and it might stick in their minds.
The briefcase he was carrying went through the usual X-rays and explosive detectors without setting off any alarms. A bomb dog sniffed at it, and glanced away incuriously.
The next stage of security was a visual inspection and, on opening the briefcase, the PFPA officer found only official documents and two sandwiches in a plastic Tupperware container.
The man came in and out of the Pentagon regularly. He was part of the furniture, a nondescript part of the background hustle and bustle of people coming and going.
If the security guards on any of the days had observed his wristwatch, a stylish black and bronze TAG Heuer, they would have noticed that it was not working. They might have thought that was poor, for such an expensive watch.
NUKILIK
[MISSION DAY 2, FEBRUARY 17, 2033. 0710 HOURS LOCAL TIME]
[BIG DIOMEDE ISLAND, BERING STRAIT]
There was a face above him, human, male, perhaps in his twenties. The face was broad and flat.
He spoke, but the words made no sense. It was not a language that Monster knew.
Monster shook his head. He was still shivering, but not as violently.
“I don’t understand,” he said in English.
“You speak English, demon?” The man seemed surprised.
“I am no Demon,” Monster said. “I am Angel.” How did this man know about Recon Team Demon?
The man looked at the lumps on Monster’s forehead and almost laughed. “I see no halo,” he said.
The man did not know about the Demons, or the Angels, Monster realised. He meant something else.
“I am human,” Monster said.
“That does not appear to be true either,” the man said.
“Is true,” Monster said. “I wear disguise.”
The man said nothing, but his eyebrows raised slightly.
“There was another with me,” Monster said, trying to stop his teeth from chattering.
The man shook his head and glanced away at something Monster couldn’t see.
“Is okay?” Monster asked.
The man shook his head again. “The other boy was much smaller than you, and not as strong. He was already gone when we found you. It was touch and go, even for you.”
Monster closed his eyes and lay still.
It was Emile’s first mission. It was supposed to have been a simple reconnaissance task. But the fun-loving little Lebanese kid, the new puppy in the team, was not going home. Emile had risked, and lost his own life to save the other Angels, even though he barely knew them. He had wanted to be a hero, but the cost of that dream was his life.
“When I found you, you were lying on top of him, trying to protect him from the cold,” the man said.
Monster could not remember that. Perhaps he had just fallen on top of Emile. He did not say so. Either way it had made no difference. He sat up, pulling the furs around his shoulders for warmth. He was naked. “Who are you?” he asked.
“I am Nukilik,” the man said. “Of the Inupiat.”
“My name is Janos,” Monster said. “But everyone call me Monster.”
Nukilik smiled briefly at the nickname.
“Where are we?” Monster asked.
“Imaqliq,” Nukilik said.
“Big Diomede?” Monster asked. “But it is deserted.”
“Not as deserted as you might think.” Nukilik smiled. “Now tell me how a demon was freezing to death on our island. Be careful with your answer or you may yet end up at the bottom of the Bering Sea.”
“I told you, I am no demon,” Monster said, still unsure what Nukilik meant. “I am human.”
“Yet you come in the guise of a demon,” Nukilik said.
“If you mean Bzadian, then you are right,” Monster said. “I am recon soldier. I am disguised as Bzadian, so I can move behind enemy lines.”
“I see no enemy here,” Nukilik said.
“They are here,” Monster said. “Hundreds of Bzadian tanks. I saw them.”
The good nature on Nukilik’s face changed to a flinty hardness. “Again,” he said.
“They use snow storms for cover, creeping towards Alaska,” Monster said.
“If you are human, then your story makes sense,” Nukilik said. “Or this could be just some kind of trickery. Are you a demon?”
“Nukilik, I am not demon, also not alien. I am human,” Monster said. “So was my … friend. Our skin was coloured, our tongues split and lumps added to our heads.” He touched the bony protrusions on his skull. Strange how natural they had become to him. As if they were normal.
There were sounds from the far side of the room and a woman appeared through a trapdoor in the floor. She had the same broad face and smiling eyes as Nukilik. A baby in fur swaddling clothes was strapped to her chest. She shivered violently for a moment, then the spasm passed.
A dog was at her side, a malamute, unrestrained. It sniffed at Monster and growled.
“He says his name is Monster,” Nukilik said.
The woman shrugged and shivered once more.
“This is Corazon,” Nukilik said. “My wife.”
“Hello,” Monster said. Corazon stared at him without emotion.
“He says he is human,” Nukilik said.
Corazon shrugged. “As a demon would say.”
Nukilik wrinkled his nose. “I have tested him.”
“What test?” Monster asked.
“I asked you three times.” Nukilik smiled. “An evil spirit may answer twice, but on the third time it will leave, or refuse to answer.”
“It was test?” Monster asked.
“One of them,” Corazon said, with a glance at the malamute. “Asungaq was another. He does not like demons.”
Asungaq barked, a strange sound halfway between a woof and the howl of a wolf.
Monster said, “I think he does not like me also.”
“Your throat is in one piece,” Nukilik said. “He likes you. It was Asungaq that found you in the snow.”
Asungaq barked again, as if agreeing.
“Then please help me,” Monster said. “I must contact my people and warn them of invasion. Do you have radio?”
“No. We do not use them, for fear of discovery,” Nukilik said.
“Do you have way of communicating with mainland?” Monster asked.
“Yes,” Nukilik said. “A boat.”
“What about the phone?” Corazon asked.
“There is phone?” Monster asked.
Nikilik looked surprised. He nodded. “This island used to be Russian. They ran cables to the island and installed phones. They still work, but they connect to the Russian phone system.”
“You can call anywhere in the world through it,” Corazon said. “I called my mother once.”
“You called your …” Nukilik broke off with a narrow sideways glance at his wife, and a short but heated discussion followed in their own language.
“Where is nearest phone?” Monster asked, during a break in the argument.
“There is an abandoned Russian guard post, about a kilometre away,” Corazon said.
“Can you take me?” Monster asked.
Nukilik shook his head. “We are still bringing your body heat back up. You cannot go out in the cold so soon.”
“It cannot wait,” Monster said.
He pulled the covers around him and swung his legs to the edge of the bed. Muscles in his shoulders seemed to have a life of their own, jerking in short spasms. He felt weak and nauseous but managed to raise himself to his feet.
“Please, may I have my clothes?” he asked.
MONSTER CALLS
[MISSION DAY 2, FEBRUARY 17, 2033. 0720 HOURS LOCAL TIME]
[BERING STRAIT, SOUTH-WEST OF LITTLE DIOMEDE ISLAND]
Price hadn’t slept. Not the kind of sleep that would rest and refresh her. Her eyes had closed at times, and she had dozed, but if she slumped down in the neck-cuff, it tightened around her neck, and that was a terrifying way to wake up. Her hands were white, and her arms ached, a consequence of having them cuffed to her neck all night. She also needed to pee, but doubted the Bzadians would agree to that request again.
Wall had disappeared last night with Nokz’z and the Vaza. Where to, Price did not know, but she bet their night’s sleep was more comfortable than hers. She looked around at the others. They both looked awake, and as exhausted as she felt.
“I’ve been thinking about it all night. It doesn’t make any sense,” The Tsar said. “Wall’s human. And his brother was killed by Pukes. How could he be Fezerker?”
“If he was Fezerker, then so was his brother,” Barnard said. “If it even was his real brother.”
“Wall doesn’t blame the Pukes for his brother’s death,” Price said. “He blames Chisnall.”
Price felt sick. She should have seen this coming. Or at least been prepared for it. Just as Chisnall had been betrayed by Brogan, she had been betrayed by one of her team.
“So what do we do now?” The Tsar asked.
“Same plan as before,” Price said. “Try to get out of here before we end up in some PGZ prison cell.”
She stopped speaking as the Vaza climbed up into the tank, followed by Wall. Wall moved to the lockers and took out the Angels’ radio.
“It was a tragedy,” Wall said. “Five Angels, lost in a crevasse, and me the only survivor. I will have to let ACOG know the sad news.”
“So you can go back and carry on betraying your own species,” Barnard said, her face twisted into a sneer.
“So I can betray your species,” Wall said with a smile.
“Do not talk to them,” the Vaza said. Her voice was a rasp, as though there was something wrong with her throat. She turned to Zim. “Nokz’z wants them ready to move at first light.”
Zim nodded.
“Vaza,” Price said.
The Vaza turned slowly to look at her.
Price stared at her. Staring her down. The Vaza moved across and stood right in front of Price, folding her arms, which were thick and well-muscled.
“I just wanted to see what the best of the Bzadian army looked like,” Price said.
The Vaza snorted. “Now you have seen.”
“I am an adolescent of my kind,” Price said. “Little more than a child. Yet if it were not for these cuffs, I would beat you senseless. Your species is pathetic. You are pathetic.”
She waited for a reaction from the big Bzadian. Maybe if she could get her angry enough, it might create an opportunity.
The Vaza took a deep breath. “You are deluded,” she said. “Our armies have bested yours whenever they have met.”
“You win because of superior technology,” Price said. “But that is changing. Eventually, it will come down to people. Like you and me. And I wanted to be sure that I could beat you in a fight, one on one.”
The Vaza snorted.
“If a child can beat you, and you are the best of your army, then it may be time for you to start looking for another planet to bully,” Price said.
“Perhaps you think I will let you out of your restraints so that we can have some kind of contest to see who is stronger,” the Vaza said.
She lashed out suddenly with the back of her hand, striking Price across the face. Blood poured from Price’s nose, down into her mouth.
“Perhaps you think I am stupid,” the Vaza said.
“You are wasting your time with her,” Wall snorted. “She is nothing. She is merely filling a role, because they have no one else stupid enough to do it.” He moved to Barnard, staring at her, his face centimetres from hers. “This one you should be careful of. She is smart. Smarter than most scumbugz, although that is not saying much. And this one,” he stood in front of The Tsar, “this one is a trickster. He will try to fool you.”
The Tsar muttered something, but so quietly that not even Price could hear it.
“What was that?” Wall laughed. “Are you trying to trick me?”
“It is for your ears only,” The Tsar said. “Not for that … thing.” His eyes took in the Vaza who seemed unperturbed by his insult.
“I am sure you can share it,” Wall said.
The Tsar shook his head.
“Then whisper in my ear, this big secret of yours,” Wall said, bending his head closer to The Tsar’s, being careful to stay out of range of The Tsar’s head, in case The Tsar tried to headbutt him.
He was right to be careful, but wrong about where the danger lay. The Tsar’s head didn’t move. It was his foot that lashed out, kicking the radio out of Wall’s hand. It smashed onto the floor, and The Tsar’s heel came down on top of it with a crunch.
The Vaza’s gun was already in her hand, but Wall was in her line of fire. His fist connected with The Tsar’s cheek, drawing blood. The Tsar lifted his feet, wrapping them around Wall, drawing him in closer. Now he tried to headbutt him. Wall grappled with him, eventually stunning the Angel with a sideways elbow to the head. The Tsar slumped in his seat, dazed.
Wall picked up the radio, examined it, then tossed it angrily across the room. “It doesn’t change a thing,” he said.
The Tsar lifted his head and smiled at him.
“Make sure they are ready,” the Vaza said to Zim. “And if the leader speaks again, get a needle from your medical kit and sew her mouth shut.”
[MISSION DAY 2, FEBRUARY 17, 2033. 1130 HOURS LOCAL TIME]
