The Icerigger Trilogy: Icerigger, Mission to Moulokin, and The Deluge Drivers (7 page)

Colette was rummaging among the other food cartons. She pulled one out and looked down at the label.

“Escalloped chicken.” She grunted. “Nice for us, but damned unprofitable. Give the condemned a hearty last meal. Somebody on this shipping line has a sense of humor.”

Ethan looked up in surprise. It was the closest thing she’d said to a joke since this’d happened to them. If it had a deeper meaning, it escaped him.

She started passing out the self-heating rations and he was so hungry he finished the first before he thought to look at the label.

September grunted as he continued to jam and press the recalcitrant material into the fissure. He looked over at Williams, huddled quietly to one side of the fire.

“You handled yourself very well there, schoolmaster. I was kind of interested to see what you’d do.”

Williams acknowledged the compliment with a barely perceptible nod.

“I did not expect that Mr. Fortune would be so tired or foolish as to throw a useable weapon in the direction of that person. Therefore I assumed it must have burnt out or otherwise been rendered useless. This is a very nice fire you’ve made here.”

“Enjoy it and welcome, while it lasts,” September answered. “I think we’ve got enough wood to last the night, anyway. You did say the nights were shorter, young feller-me-lad?” Ethan nodded.

Ethan rolled over, trying to set himself as close to the flames as possible barring sudden immolation. He hadn’t found that warm spot. And if there was a soft piece of duralloy, that had escaped his notice as well.

Trouble was, there were six of them to crowd around the energetic but tiny fire. That meant you couldn’t get too much of you next to it. It was impossible to remain both polite and warm. So when one end of you was partly defrosted, the other was still in the figurative freezer. It was most disconcerting.

T
HEY DISPOSED OF THE
packages by stacking them in the empty shipping carton and shoving it into a far corner. September was for taking all the garbage outside and tossing it to the winds. He wanted to keep their hideaway neat, as long as they were stuck in it.

By now, though, the gale outside had risen to brobdingnagian proportions. That wind carried quick, freezing death, despite the protection of their suits and face heaters. Outvoted four to one, the big man assented.

“Wish I knew more about these natives,” he muttered. Another log was sacrificed to the greedy flames. Huddled in their survival suits around the orange-red kinetic sculpture, they looked like so many frozen carcasses awaiting the butcher’s saw. But the wood continued to burn comfortingly, although sometimes the fire took on an eerie purple halo. A nice little pile of coals was growing beneath. Even the supporting duralloy seemed to be taking on a reddish tinge under the steady throb of flame.

“It’s not surprising we haven’t encountered any yet,” said Ethan. “For all we know, we might have come down in the middle of the biggest desert on the planet.”

“It’s all right, father,” Colette was murmuring to her sire. “Your flowers are being well taken care of … and International Lubricants of Goldin IV was up six points, last I looked.”

“You’d think they would have noticed the boat coming down,” September grunted. “As clear as this air is, we ought to have been visible for hundreds of kilometers.”

“We might have been seen,” Ethan conceded. “Even so, it might take days or weeks for the locals to organize an expedition to reach us. Assuming they are so inclined.”

“Still, we should post a watch,” said the big man.

“I haven’t taken anything but the basic mestapes,” Williams began, “but it seems to me that your natives, no matter what their makeup, wouldn’t be abroad on a night like this.” Another gust rattled the door, as though in support of the schoolmaster’s theory.

“This could be a tropical evening to them,” Ethan countered. “But if we’re as far away from the settlement as we seem to be, then the locals couldn’t be familiar with flying craft. We can’t tell how they might react. We might have come in over the local metropolis, too, and scared the populace half out of their wits. In which case they might declare this section of ice forever taboo, or the local equivalent. I’ve seen it happen before.”

“Let’s hope not,” said September fervently. “I’m beginning to think we’re going to need outside aid if we’re ever going to see the inside of a brandy snifter again. But that’s not why I think we should stand watch.

“And it has nothing to do with
him
.” He gestured at Walther. A thin whine from the kidnapper’s location was the only reply, a mouse of a snore. Already sound asleep.

“Although, as long as he entertains thoughts of attack, and as long as we still have one operational beamer”—he patted his vest pocket—“it would be a good idea if everyone didn’t drift off to slumberland all at once.

“No, my main concern is keeping that fire going. If that goes, it’s liable to get downright chilly in here. And we might never wake up.”

“Quite so,” agreed Colette promptly.

“I usually remain awake late at night,” Williams informed them. “If no one objects, I would be pleased to take the first, uh, watch.”

“Very well … and I shall take the second,” volunteered Colette. “But you will have to excuse my father from such duties … he’s not up to it, I’m afraid.”

“But my dear …” the elder du Kane began. Colette kissed him perfunctorily on the forehead.

“Hush, old man. Lean on me.”

“But your mother would think—”

Colette’s eyes grew suddenly so wild that Ethan missed a breath. She looked about to scream, but instead her voice came out under airtight control—barely.

“Don’t mention that woman to me now,” she snapped out.

“But—”

“Don’t!” There was more than just a hint of warning in that voice. Ethan thought about putting a subtle question to her, took another look at those penetrating green orbs, and decided against butting in. Mind your own business, stupid! He rolled over twice, facing the fire.

It seemed he’d only just put his head down after concluding his two-hour watch when he was suddenly awakened. He was facing the fire a half-meter away. For a moment something very primitive deep inside him was badly startled. It did wake him quickly, though. He rolled over and found himself almost nose to nose with Williams.

The schoolteacher held fingers to lips. Ethan sat up slowly and stifled his questions. Across the glow of the fire he could see Colette du Kane. Her expression chased the rest of the sleep from his eyes. She was chewing on one set of knuckles. Her father was kneeling tensely next to her, an arm around her shoulders.

The Hephaestean form of Skua September, outlined by the fire, stood to one side. He was staring intently at the door. The remaining beamer was clutched tightly in his right fist. It hadn’t grown much colder inside, thanks to the fire, but you could feel the alien darkness pressing close on all sides.

Ethan was aware of something new and unpleasant in the tiny cabin. Humans are not as adept as their dogs at smelling fear, but they can recognize it in each other.

“It was during Mr. du Kane’s shift,” the teacher whispered softly. “He woke Mr. September, who thought it best to rouse the rest of us.” Ethan turned just enough to see Walther sitting alertly in his corner, hands twitching uncontrollably.

“It seems Mr. du Kane thought he heard something moving around outside,” Williams continued. “And while he confesses to a lack of knowledge of the local life, he doesn’t believe it’s one of your natives. He cannot be certain, of course.”

At that point, as abrupt as ship ignition, there was a ringing bong as of something heavy striking metal. It came from outside. September dropped into a crouch. Back in his corner, Walther giggled unnervingly. September hissed for him to shut up or he’d get his neck broken.

Ethan could make out a distant scuffling and rattling. It sounded a thousand miles off. Unfortunately, that was not likely. In addition, above the wind, he distinctly heard a low moaning sound. It was like the noise people make when waking suddenly from a bad dream. It went off and on, off and on, like an idling engine. Very deep it was. Occasionally it was broken by a bass cough.

There was a loud thunk. Then uninterrupted silence. The big man hadn’t moved, hadn’t shifted. Ethan watched him.

September stayed in his crouch, straining for sounds of the unimaginable.

The wind continued to carry its load of lonesome song—a lowing, an unceasing monophony that drew a cold white chalk line down Ethan’s spine. Already he was half believing there was nothing outside but wind whistling through torn metal. It might be a loose couch bouncing around in the rained hull.

He crawled slowly over to the door. Putting an ear near the open crack, he ignored the wind that bit at him. He was careful not to touch the metal, though. By now even the inside of the door was quartz-cold. Skin would stick to it.

He looked back at September and shook his head to indicate he couldn’t hear anything new. September nodded once. The hand holding the beamer remained steady.

Ethan thought he could hear a thudding sound outside, realized it was his own heart. He felt very out of place here. This was all silly, of course. If there had been anything out there it had gotten tired of snuffling around and wandered off. Though it was not pleasant to consider what could be moving around in this midnight Ragnarok.

He started to stand, straightening his half-frozen knees and wondering if the joints would stiffen solid before he made it. He desperately wanted to get back close to the fire. Slowly, easily, he came up to the level of the window. He peered out.

The porous hull admitted enough of the light from the planet’s single moon to bathe the ruined interior in ghost-light. A little more new snow had seeped in, burying a few other human symbols and gestures under virgin white. The wind had apparently carried off more of the left side of the boat’s wall and roof. That was no surprise. It was amazing that the rest of it had held together at all in this gale.

He turned to the others, let out an unconscious sigh.

“It’s okay. If there was anything out there, it’s gone now.” Tension melted, slipped out of the cabin. It wouldn’t be hard getting back to sleep, no. He turned back to the glassite port for a last glance outside.

He found himself staring into an unmoving blood-red eye not quite the size of a dinner plate. A vicious little inkblot of a pupil swam in its center.

He was too shocked to faint. But he was frozen speechless to the spot. Cold had nothing to do with it.

The horrible moaning came again, faster now, excited. The eye moved. Something hit the door like a two-ton truck. The hinges bent in alarmingly and he stumbled backward a few steps. A triangular pattern appeared in the tough glassite.

Dimly he heard someone screaming. It might have been Colette, it might have been Walther. Or maybe both. He was hit from the side and shoved out of the way. September. The big man had a look through the bent door at whatever was outside and it made even him flinch away. He shoved the beamer through the gap, pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

The door was struck again and September was jolted back, cursing at the startling rate of three curses per step. They’d been carefully hoarding a dead beamer.

A loud, nervous rasping came from both sides of the dangerously bent door, a monstrous scratching and pawing. The door took another blow. This time the top, hinge snapped off like plastic and the upper half of the metal was folded inward. Ethan was lying on his back and had a fine view through the new opening.

What he saw was a big rectangular head. Two horrible red eyes, like wild lanterns, stared straight at him. A mouth not quite as big as an earth-mover filled with what looked like a couple of thousand long, needle-like teeth gaped open. The teeth grew in all directions, like a jumble of jackstraws.

It either saw him or scented him. The huge skull plunged downward. It pushed, and jammed halfway into the fresh opening. He could have reached up and touched one of those gnarled fangs. It was close enough for him to smell its breath—cloves and old lemon.

Metal groaned in protest as the thing twisted and pushed against the doubled door like a starving dog, moaning wantonly. Off to one side he saw September edging right up next to the door. He jumped across, threw something in the monster’s searchlight eyes, and ducked just as the steam-shovel head snapped at him. The teeth clashed like a gong just above flying white hair.

It blinked, and there was the most awful bellowing scream imaginable. The head disappeared with astounding speed. As it thrashed about in the ruined hull it shook the entire boat. Ethan was hard-pressed to keep from being tumbled into the fire.

Then, all at once, it was quiet again.

September was trying to force the strained door back into place. The weakened bracing gave a little, but a gaping hole remained. He picked up a large chunk of torn couch padding and stuffed it into the gap, jamming it down into the cracks on either side. It stayed.

“Somebody open some coffee. None of us are going back to sleep right away anyhow, I think.” September shoved a great fist down into the padding. “I could use a mug. Woe that it’s but the juice of the brown bean and not something stronger.”

“Lord!” panted Williams. It was the first time Ethan had seen the schoolteacher excited about anything. But only a robot could sit through what they’d just experienced without missing a heartbeat or two. “What was it?”

Surprisingly, Ethan found himself answering, after the first choke on his coffee.

“The section on fauna comes back to me now. That was a nocturnal carnivore. The natives consider it quite dangerous …”

“Do tell,” commented September. He was still wrestling with the padding and the door. “No single critter has a right to that many teeth … Damn this wind!”

“It’s called a Droom,” Ethan added, turning. Then he noticed that Colette was still sitting close to her father … and damned if she wasn’t shivering a little. She looked frightened, too. Of course she would be—anyone would be—but it was so unlike her.