Frost Station Alpha 1-6: The Complete Series (39 page)

Arkt directed her toward a ledge on the side of one wall where the shuttles had landed. They had to scramble across uneven ground with massive pieces of ice jutting up like crystals. Tamryn did her best to slow progress, pretending more ineptitude than she had, but her fate appeared inevitable.

Up ahead, the shuttle doors opened, and a squad of men in arctic combat armor strode out. They would have spikes in the soles of their boots for traction and tinted faceplates to handle the brightness, along with weapons that could fire reliably in this kind of environment. She wondered if the soldiers would deal with Arkt, as he believed, or if they would simply shoot him. She would like to think her people would keep their word, but these were extenuating circumstances; from their point of view, they were dealing with kidnappers and terrorists.

Protected by their armor, most of the men hopped down from the ledge, dropping the fifteen feet and landing on the ice without falling. Tamryn thought they appeared very capable and suspected her father had sent down a special forces unit.

“My people can do that
without
the help of machines,” Arkt said with a sneer.

“It must be nice to be so special,” Tamryn said.

“We are your superiors in every way except for numbers. Had we not been so greedy last year...”

Tamryn reminded herself that he was speaking of the war they had started a hundred and fifty years ago. “Were you there? One of those who started that war?”

“I was there. Had a few turns of luck gone our way, we might be your rulers today.”

“Such a shame that didn’t happen.” Tamryn decided those religious zealots of previous centuries hadn’t been totally mindless in turning the genetically engineered soldiers into outcasts. They must have perceived a real threat from people who were so superior—and knew it. Was she making a mistake in wanting to help them? No, not all of them were like Brax or Arkt. Makkon wasn’t. Zar wasn’t. Those kids weren’t. If Makkon had told the truth, most of those who were left behind were the ones who had
not
wanted to start a war.

“Halt and identify yourself,” one of the Fleet soldiers said.

The armor-clad men carried laser rifles, but were not pointing them at Arkt. Of course, he was keeping Tamryn in front of him now, using her as a shield. Some superior genes. The ass.

“You know who I am and what I want,” Arkt said.

One more soldier in combat armor stepped off the ledge, this one floating down with jet boots rather than jumping. Was this the squad leader? The sun did not reach the ravine floor, and deep shadows kept her from seeing through people’s faceplates. The leader joined the twenty men on the ground, and several heads swiveled toward him.

“I brought the girl.” Arkt reached over and tugged Tamryn’s mask down to her throat. The rush of cold air made her gasp. “As requested,” he continued, “I have no weapons.” No, he preferred to bend weapons in half and leave them on the bathroom floor instead of using them.

Tamryn squinted, her eyes stung by the icy breeze. Moisture froze, turning to crystals on her lashes.

“Send her to us,” a new voice spoke, the commander’s.

Tamryn gaped. The helmet distorted the voice, but was that her father? Had he come down himself, risking attack from the Glacians to retrieve her?

It might not be very soldier-like, but an urge to run forward and hug him filled her. Arkt’s hand still gripped her neck, too tight to pull away.

“I’ll have your word first,” Arkt said. “The money and the ride to a more amenable planet or station, as you promised.”

“You’ll have your ride.” Her father’s voice sounded as cold as the ice.

Perhaps this wouldn’t be the best time for a hug. Would he be upset with her for being captured? For everything that had happened? She cringed at the idea of disappointing him.

“I keep my word,” her father said, “But you are aware that we watched you come out of that cave. In dealing with us, you’ve given us the location of your people.”

“I expected that,” Arkt said. “The president I voted for is long dead. Those who are left...” He waved a gloved hand, the gesture dismissive. “They are the weak, those who had no interest in fighting.”

“In fighting on the station?” Though her father spoke to Arkt, his helmet was turned toward Tamryn. With the faceplate tinted, she couldn’t see his eyes. She wished she could. What did he want from her? To be quiet and not risk angering Arkt? Or for her to give him some intel?

“In taking a portion of the system for ourselves,” Arkt said.

“The Glacians we’ve been dealing with,” Tamryn said, “came out of a cryo-freeze last year. That’s how they survived the last hundred and fifty years.”

Arkt’s hand remained around her neck, but he did not tighten it or threaten her if she didn’t shut up. He must not care if the information came out.

Her father stirred, and one of his gloved hands curled into a fist.

“But not all of them are the warriors our ancestors fought,” Tamryn said. “My understanding is that very few of those people survived, and that most of the ones who remain wanted nothing to do with that war.”

“Your understanding,” her father said slowly.

Tamryn imagined him thinking of reports he might have had of her relationship with Makkon.

“They—” she started, but he held up a hand and cut her off.

“We’ll discuss it back on the ship. You there, let her go. Then follow. A deal was struck, and I’ll honor it no matter who you are, but you better believe I’ll make the system aware of your presence. You won’t skulk about and make trouble. If you do, a sniper will find you.”

Arkt grunted dismissively at the threat. Finally, he released Tamryn. She took a step toward her father, and that step might have turned into a sprint to reach his side, but a startled grunt came from behind her, this one pained instead of condescending.

“Attack,” one of the soldiers yelled.

“From where?” someone else barked, glancing toward the top of the ravine.

Tamryn spun toward Arkt. An arrow stuck out of the side of his throat. The squeal of a laser bolt he might have heard, but the arrow had flown silently, catching him unaware.

He wasn’t dead though. He glared at Tamryn and yanked the arrow from his throat. Blood surged out of the wound. He lunged toward her, but something slammed into him from the side. Another fur-clad figure smothered him, forcing him to the ground. They grappled briefly, Arkt roaring with pain and rage, but before the soldiers could race across the twenty meters to grab Tamryn, Makkon leaped to his feet. Even with his mask covering most of his face, and even without seeing the small swath of skin that revealed the dragon tattoo, she knew it was him. Arkt lay unmoving at his feet, his throat cut.

Makkon wrapped an arm around Tamryn’s waist and stood beside her, the dagger dripping blood in his other hand.

“Stop,” her father cried, and the soldiers who had been racing to grab her skidded to a halt so quickly that some of them had to flail their arms to keep from falling. They looked like they wanted to point their rifles at Makkon, but none of them did, not with him standing so close to Tamryn. Instead, their helmets swiveled as they glanced back toward their commander again.

“Tam,” her father groaned. “Why didn’t you run?”

Makkon was standing beside Tamryn, not behind her, as Arkt had done. Not using her as a shield. Though he gripped his dagger, and also had a laser rifle and the bow slung across his back, he didn’t turn any of his weapons toward her. That surprised her. She had expected him to keep bluffing, to pretend she was an object to negotiate with, an object he was prepared to kill if need be.

“Because she has no reason to fear me,” Makkon said when she didn’t answer the question.

He took a step to the side, tossed the dagger to the ground where blood droplets spattered on the ice, and spread his arms. Several of the soldiers lifted their rifles.

“No,” Tamryn ordered and lunged to put herself in front of Makkon. Even though the act was one of sheer instinct, she realized the ramifications immediately, and terror lurched into her throat as she moved. If one of those men had a twitchy trigger finger, she could take a laser blast in the gut.

But nobody fired. Once again, they looked to her father for orders.

Tamryn swallowed, her mouth dry. She ought to be relieved to now have the opportunity to walk into the arms of her fellow soldiers—of her father—but she was more nervous than ever. There was so much to lose now. And even if she won all she wanted, could she ever have a life with Makkon?

“Admiral Pavlenko,” she heard herself say, almost as if the voice belonged to someone else and she hovered outside of her body, looking on. “We need to talk.”

Her father sighed. “Of that I have no doubt.”

He waved for her to approach.

Makkon started to walk forward, but Tamryn stopped him with a hand to the chest.

“You belong here,” she said, not daring to say more with all of the soldiers looking on. She wished she could see his eyes through the furs and mask. She hoped he understood that she wanted to protect him, that he would only be shot if he came up to a ship with her, where the fact that he had killed soldiers on the station would come to light.

Makkon stopped. He lifted his chin, like he meant to say something, but his mask tilted toward the soldiers, and he remained silent. Tamryn walked toward her father’s people and forced herself not to look back, afraid they had already said far too much. But she wished she could have looked at him once more, seen his face, his eyes, because she did not know what would happen to her and feared she would never be able to see him again.

Chapter 27

Makkon stood in the ravine until the combat shuttles disappeared from view, arrowing up toward the atmosphere, taking Tamryn with them. His heart was heavy, his soul empty. He believed she had told him to stay because he would be in danger, if not executed outright if he went with her, but he couldn’t keep from feeling that he had been rejected. The last memory he would have of Tamryn was her planting her hand on his chest and walking away.

He lowered his chin, aware of the icy clutches of twilight descending and also aware of Arkt’s corpse hardening on the ice. A part of him worried that he would be punished, if not executed outright,
here
for the choice he had made, but a part of him couldn’t manage the passion to care. Makkon had killed Arkt because he had been using Tamryn for a shield, but also because he’d been overwhelmed with fury when he realized what the man had done, that he’d made a selfish deal and that because of it, the military now knew where the entrance to the Glacian compound was.

Though tempted to leave Arkt’s body to the elements, he hefted it over his shoulder and trudged back to the cavern that held the elevator. There would be questions, and he didn’t have it in his heart to lie.

Even though it was too soon to expect an attack, such as bombs raining from the heavens, he couldn’t help but glance toward the darkening sky as he walked. With Tamryn gone, what could he do to protect his people? To barter with the military? He wished he knew if his comrades on the station were still detained. Had those vaults been enough to keep them secured those last hours before the Fleet ships had arrived? Or might Brax and the others have escaped and commandeered the station again? Even if something like that had happened, wouldn’t those ships have simply swarmed the station from multiple entrances, sending in soldiers in numbers too great for even his people to handle?

When the elevator reached the entrance to the tunnel complex, Makkon found President Shenta and two assistants waiting with her. She didn’t look surprised to see him—or Arkt’s body over his shoulder. Their people did not have cameras on the surface of the moon, so she couldn’t have seen what happened, but perhaps someone had glimpsed Arkt leaving with Tamryn and had reported it.

“What happened?” she asked.

“He made a deal with those ships up there,” Makkon said. “He tried to buy his way into a pile of gold and a ride to a better world with
my
prisoner.” The last two words came out as a growl, and he reminded himself that using Tamryn wasn’t the most grievous thing Arkt had done, at least not from the perspective of his leaders. “They came to get her. They know how to find us now.” He tilted his head upward.

“They killed him?” Shenta looked toward Arkt.

Makkon could have lied. It would have been easy. But with Tamryn gone and his home in a shambles, he hardly cared what fate would wait him for killing the highest-ranking military man they had left.

“
I
killed him,” he said.

Again, the president did not appear surprised. Maybe she had already known somehow.

“Put his body in the burial tunnel,” she said, her voice hard. “We’ll discuss your choice later. In the meantime, we need to prepare for evacuation.”

“Evacuation?” he asked slowly. “We’ll never get all of our people in the mining ship, and it’s the only transportation we have that can take us off the moon.”

“Hard choices will have to be made. Again.” Shaking her head, she turned her back on him and strode down the corridor.

Makkon stared after her, appalled at the idea of losing even more of their people. Could they even be considered a people anymore, if they left three quarters of their population here to die? A population that had already been diminished to such small numbers that the moon barely knew they were there? Soon, they would be nothing more than a band of scavengers on an old ship, trying to make a living in a system that wanted them all dead.

It occurred to him that Shenta hadn’t said anything to imply that he would be among those chosen. And why would he be? He’d just proven himself a murderer, killing one of their own people. And besides, what use would that band of scavengers have for a hunter, going forward? His skills would be useless in space, as useless as they had been in the last few days.

Perhaps it was for the best. His home was here. He would stand and accept his fate when the military came, sending bombs with the power to destroy even their tunnels this time.

Makkon had started walking down the corridor, but he halted abruptly. The tunnels. The tunnels that had been excavated millennia ago by an ancient civilization, an ancient civilization that had written in a language the system-wide government was, even now, trying to decipher.