Page 67 of Alliance
And the colony was a good three weeks away if you hiked hard.
Fásach listened more than he spoke, his thoughts fighting for space, making his heart race. But he listened. Harder than he ever had before.
Because Gilladhknewwhere the colony was.
That it was too far for some hikers.
And their tone had soured when they’d called Roz beautiful.
22
Walking back to the shore relieved some of Fás’s worries. He would see Roz soon, share the snaps he’d taken with Gilladh, make her smile or gasp at the size of his kill. Seeing the pure curiosity in her gaze alone was worth hauling more than five hundred pounds of meat over the treacherous ice.
And once they were alone, he’d tell her about Gil. They were a good person, Fás could tell from the tones of their voice, but also their hardy laugh and generosity. Good people could be dangerous though, gullible enough to believe that the world had good intentions the same as them. Law-abiding without question, allowing themselves a gentle exit from their own guilt in light of a greater good and higher authority. Fás remembered the early days after leaving Byddie with a somber set to his jaw.
It was better to go as soon as possible.
They’d need to leave in the middle of the night and cover their tracks. Because any rescue team the operator contacted would assume Roz was just a doll. Fás would end up tazed and in a prison cell, and she…
He swallowed down the thought, unable to tolerate even the ghost of what she’d endure.
The closer they got to shore, the denser the crowd of ice became, making it easier to navigate. Gil started joking again, pointing out good spots along the horizon for hikers to see the sights. Fásach’s ear twitched, because though all oftheir suggestions were true, their tone was slightly sour. Nearly imperceptible, especially with the howl of the wind through the frozen beach as they hit the snow dunes and dragged themootha saraato shore.
“Idesh is theworstthough,” Gil panted, continuing their conversation about how their fellow operators all lacked any real hunting chops. “That squid brain will sit on the ice for hours with his holotab playing music and wonder why nothing takes the bait.”
Fás stopped, falling upon a dune with one palm, breaking through the jagged crust of ice encasing its powdery white snow. Symphonic vertigo twisted the world beneath him as he squeezed his eyes shut and breathed through the symptoms his mamau had struggled with for so many years. He’d never felt it before. Something was off.
And as many times as he picked her up off the floor, she’d never once mentioned the wailing.
Discordant chords flew across the wind like rubbing the strings of an orchestral bow raw, searing his ears and brain, infecting his gums with the tang of aluminum. Fás blinked several times and shook his head, trying to remain calm, searching out the front of the Buoy where the entrance was hidden from the shoreline.
“You okay, my friend?” Gil asked, their heavy hand landing on his shoulder. His hackles rose.
Because just there on the wind, that tang… it wasn’t aluminum.
It was iron, like mammalian blood.
“Roz,” Fás breathed, clawing his way up the dune and through the remnants of vertigo by sheer will. He dropped the tail of the shark and left Gil behind, confused and trying to catch up.
When he rounded the corner and found the door to the Buoy jammed open, his stomach churned, acid climbing up his throat. Vertigo hit him again as his shoulder bumped against the Buoy wall.
“Roz!” Fás roared, skidding down the terraced platforms, hoping to find her huddled under a blanket. Her scent was cold, the air as still and frigid as a morgue. Had the power gone out? Blackened terror gripped his heart as he slid into the sleeping bags and checked the vital pods.
Misila and Safia were alright, all vital lights steady. He dropped their coats and blankets back over them just as Gil rushed in, their tendrils rising around their face in shock.
“What the fuck?” they yelled. “Roz! Darlin’, you here?” They ran straight to the wall of dials, meters, and controls. “Looks like a life support. Fás, can you smell her?”
“Cold,” Fás croaked, but took another deep inhale anyway.
That tang again. He looked down at the blankets where his knees had gathered them up and found a smear of liquid, a mixture of blood and lubricant that had turned brown like rust. Gil stilled, staring down at their feet.
“Is that–”
Fás followed his line of sight to a trail of little oxidized dots freezing on the floor like puff paint.
Gil burst into action, opening cabinets that had been locked with a wave of their wrist. They pulled out a bandolier of gear, slid it over their shoulder, and cinched it tight across their chest. A radio, mediplasma, zero-viz goggles, two pucks of some sort… They continued to suit up, adding a harness lashed in neon-colored climbing ropes and stakes, then tossed something similar to Fás.
“Put it on, over the coveralls. Legs first, then the top like a backpack. Snap it across the chest.” Their directions were allbusiness as they filled a thigh pouch with rations and added two more bolts to their harpoon gun.
