Maximum Ice Read Online Free

said.
“Yes, sir.”
    “No,” Zoya hissed into the comm node.
    Ship’s guns clattered, barely muffled by the hull.
    Leaning into the node, she said, “Janos, it’s just one person.” But no one was listening. She tore into the corridor and ran to the outside hatch, guarded by a wan youngster who looked to be all of twenty years old.
    “Open it,” she barked. He started to protest, but in the end he was no match for her. Then she was on the access ramp, running into a stew of dust and screams. Piquant air rushed to her nostrils, and the sky loomed above her in monstrous blessing. The fray had kicked up a flurry of dust that the morning sun infused with blind light.
    As the dust settled over the scene, Zoya saw that the newarrival was standing on a sled, and was raising a huge weapon that looked like a harpoon gun, aiming it at the tent.
    Crew members were turning in every direction, watching for attack. Several fired at the man in the sled, but they had to face into the blinding dawn, and missed.
    In the next instant, the tent collapsed, leaving one person standing inside, a swaying human tent post. The newcomer fired his gun and sent a spear full into the body of the tentdraped figure. Then he lowered his weapon and stared at what he had done.
    “No one shoot,” Zoya shouted as she ran up to the sled. The crew hesitated for a moment, with Ship Mother in the line of fire. But the stranger had lowered his weapon; he was giving up—or he had accomplished what he set out to do.
    Nevertheless, several crew moved in and dragged the sled man from his perch, wrestling him to the ground and seizing his harpoon. Other crew were still keeping watch, squinting at the territory, watching for movement. But far into the distance, there was nothing but flat, white desert.
    Now Janos was approaching from the shuttle, all outrage.
    She thought he might grab her forcibly. She used her most calming voice: “Let us talk first. You can always shoot him later.”
    From the look on Janos’s face, it was Zoya he’d like to shoot. “Get inside, Ship Mother.
Now
.” He turned his attention to the collapsed tent, striding over to the wreckage.
    Two crew members were trying to pull the tent away from the impaled man, but the spear effectively pinned it in place. They managed the task far enough to see that the victim was none of theirs. It was the rag man, lying immobile. As they pushed back the loose tent fabric, they uncovered a dreadful scene. Three other bodies lay in blood-drenched sand. Crew members were crouched down, taking their vital signs.
    Oh my children, Zoya thought. Oh, Fyodor.
    The sled man, held firmly between two of the biggest crewmen, said something to her that she couldn’t catch. She looked at him closely for the first time, seeing a burly, bearded man, dressed in furs. He jutted his chin at the tent.
    In a fury, Janos advanced on him and struck him a blow across the face.
    Zoya inserted herself between Janos and the sled man. “He’s alone, for God’s sakes,” she spat at him.
    Janos turned to her, taking hold of her arm. “Stay out of this.” His words came out like bullets. Janos pointed at crewman Loski. “Take Ship Mother inside.”
    Loski took her gently by the elbow. But when Janos walked over to the fallen tent, Zoya followed him, staring down her escort, who was clearly uncertain about manhandling Ship Mother.
    Zoya saw one of the crew turn away from the scene, gagging.
    Fyodor lay on the ground, his throat torn out, with strips of skin pulled back from his chest. It looked as though he had been flailed. She had seen worse in her crisis-strewn life, but not by much.
    Kneeling beside the fallen crew members, one of the men reported to Janos: “All dead, sir.” He looked up at the first mate as though Janos could change this, could order it to be different. Zoya knew that look, and was thankful it wasn’t, this time, aimed at
her.
    She crouched down next to Fyodor, closing his eyes with her hand.