Ice War (11 page)

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.

[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]

[OFFICE FC7001, THIRD LEVEL, WEST QUARTER, THE PENTAGON, VIRGINIA]

Wilton’s phone rang. His first thought was that it was Chisnall, but the screen showed that it was Fort Carson again. He flipped it open.

“You’re a popular boy nowadays,” Courtney’s voice said. “I have another call for you.”

“Who is it this time?” Wilton asked. “The same girl as yesterday?”

“Is she your new girlfriend, Blake?” Courtney asked.

“Nope. I’m still waiting for you to say yes.”

“Can’t say yes, if I’ve never been asked,” Courtney said. “But that would be against regulations.”

“Yes, what a shame.”

“Not that I’m a stickler for regulations.”

“So who’s on the phone?” Wilton asked, a little flustered.

“He didn’t say,” she said. “But from the way he talks, I’d guess it’s Specialist Panyoczki.”

Wilton’s breath caught in his throat. He forced himself to stay calm and to keep his voice low. “Put it through,” he said.

“Wilton?”

“Yes?”

“My dude, it is Monster here.”

It was Monster’s voice, no question.

“What’s going on?” Wilton asked. “You missed your check-in.”

“We were captured by Pukes,” Monster said. “I manage to make the getaway.”

“And the others?”

“They not so lucky,” Monster said. “Still captured. Listen. Big invasion coming. There is large concentration of Puke tanks south of the little island.”

“Tanks!” Wilton said. “You’re sure?”

“We went inside to one,” Monster said.

“But south of the island?” Wilton said. “They should be to the north. Where exactly did you see them?”

“At location of our last check-in,” Monster said.

Wilton copied the reference into his smartpad. “They thought they’d sneak around the back door while we were busy watching the front. I’ll pass this on to ACOG. What about Price and the others, are they at this grid reference?”

“I think so,” Monster said.

“Then you’ve got to get them out,” Wilton said. “When ACOG hears about this, they’re going to blow the puke out of the whole place.”

“I know,” Monster said.

“Can I reach you?” Wilton asked.

“You can try,” Monster said. “It is landline. I don’t know number. But maybe you can trace call back. If I am near phone, I will answer.”

Wilton didn’t need to trace the call, the numbers were showing on his screen. He wrote them down.

“Monster,” Wilton said, “I need to tell you something. I went to visit Holly Brogan.”

He waited for a reaction, expecting an explosion, but all Monster asked was, “Why?”

“I thought she might be able to give us some information,” Wilton said. “I showed her the photos of the crew on Little Diomede. She recognised one of them.”

“You are sure?”

“Positive. The man, Nicholas Able. He’s … like Brogan.”

“Traitor!” Monster said.

“Fezerker,” Wilton said, and explained.

“What about the woman?” Monster asked.