Over Burning Sands: Burning Sands, #5

By P R Adams

A changed world. A deadly world.
Major Gabby Alonso woke to violence and an AI bent on killing her. She wasn't ready to die.

Now she has to lead the last remnants of her team into the world they were supposed to rebuild, to reclaim from centuries-old ruins.

While the world has changed, it's nothing like the training and simulations had taught her to expect. Except, that is, for its lethality.

Petty tyrants, misguided pacifists, bloodthirsty marauders—Alonso can trust no one, racing from one threat to the next, always trying to stay just ahead of death on her way to find the peaceful promise of someone named Reggie Lee.

Grab your copy of this thrilling post-apocalyptic tale now and follow the bloody path that leads Over Burning Sands.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Promethean Tales
• Release date: Oct 27, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393345893

Book preview

Prologue

In all her years, Carmen Verona couldn’t recall such a beautiful sunset. Through many of those years, the Colorado sky had been a perpetual muddy brown when visible, carrying with it a pungent, depleted stink that her grandpa had told her as a child was the eternal stain of a refinery and other industrial works. When that brown smear had finally faded, the sky had been left with nothing but an angry gray to show for it.

Now, with a cool, clean wind blowing up from the south, there were reds and golds settling over the western mountains.

With the first Winter Celebration of her Unified Lands dream turned real, that painted sky seemed appropriate.

She ascended the marble steps of her home—the Unified Lands Capitol—smiling like the great unifier she was. With each step, the wind tugged her chinchilla cloak, testing the strength of her hands. Looking at her, anyone could see she had what it took to keep the cloak in place. A few inches shy of six feet, draped today in a billowing white shirt and loose black pants, she was the tallest of the Verona ruling family, with a solid frame and what could safely be called a resolute face boxed by dark, brown hair.

Carmen preferred resolute to unremarkable or blockish.

At the entry to her home and office, two uniformed personal guards saluted with a clap of booted heels. Their sharply pressed brown jackets were shorter than the one she usually wore, hers reaching mid-thigh, theirs stopping midway down their groins, but their black pants had the same gray stripe as hers, signifying their assignment to the capitol building. As with their black boots, the rifles in their hands were polished and clean.

She wasn’t one for formality and ostentatious displays, but her sister Harmony said it was the heart of discipline and decorum that kept the body of empire alive.

Empire. It was a frightening word.

Carmen didn’t have ambitions of empire but of unity. In the decades since the Great Fire, warlords had risen throughout the ruins of Denver and the surrounding cities and towns. People had fought over critical resources: land, water, food.

Hundreds of thousands had died.

And now, with the official signing of the peace accords by the final three major independent communities, their dreams of tyranny were ended. She’d done the unthinkable: uniting forty-two different gangs, strongholds, and shelters under a single banner. Even more remarkable was how bloodless the effort had been.

In relative terms.

Harmony’s special groups—rangers, scouts, and skirmishers—had been instrumental early on, killing a few ultra-violent warlords who’d refused to even consider discussing unity, then kidnapping others later on when they’d proven they didn’t understand the value of swearing fealty through a simple signature.

Human nature unfortunately required such barbaric displays.

But in the last three years, diplomacy had surpassed violence in effectiveness.

Now? Now she had peace and the first hint of stability for twenty-five miles in any direction.

She passed by the open door of the brightly lit parlor where she entertained guests and dignitaries, then turned left to the living room, where the smell of wood smoke promised the warmth of a fire.

Harmony sat in a high-backed chair facing the fireplace, head bent over a leather book that might have been intended as a ledger long ago. Enjoy the celebration?

The older Verona sister hurried to the fire, extending her broad hands toward the grill. Her olive skin was lost in the golden glow. You know better. It’s a duty of the president, not something to be enjoyed.

You settled on president?

"It sounds better than leader."

I’ve always thought you enjoyed putting up the impression of disinterest.

Carmen glanced over her shoulder at the supreme commander of the Unified Lands Army. Harmony was shorter by a few inches, with the sort of face that capitalized on their shared features—a strong nose, heavy eyebrows, and full lips. She could almost be called pretty, if not for her love of sternness and austerity in all things. A ragged, ugly haircut, a refusal to pluck her eyebrows even a little, not even a hint of lipstick to emphasize the lovely shape of her lips…

No matter what Carmen did, she could never have what her sister did and what she rejected.

That seemed to be the way life worked.

The young general glanced up and brushed crumbs from her jacket—cut to deemphasize the curves of her figure. Oliver should be back soon.

Carmen nodded at the wine glass on the table to Harmony’s right. Are we out?

Harmony picked the glass up and swirled the dark contents. No.

Then what’s he—

Right. You were so busy not enjoying the celebration that I forgot to tell you.

Forgot to tell me what? Carmen did her best not to let her annoyance show.

I received a radio message from your favorite friend.

Oh? From Vegas?

From Vegas.

And what did the enchanting Mr. Lee want this time?

Harmony stuck a red ribbon between the pages of the ledger and closed it. Actually, it wasn’t his call that was important. He was just letting me know that he’d sent an emissary who should be arriving in the next day or so.

An…emissary.

His words, not mine.

What kind of emissary?

The younger woman shrugged. I don’t know. Diplomacy’s your thing.

Thanks so much for all that you do, Harmony.

"You’re welcome. Anyway, about an hour after that call, I got the interesting one. Harmony sipped from the wine glass. You might want to have a glass of this. It’s from the foothills. The ash in the soil makes for a really nice sharpness."

Carmen sighed. The wine was set out on a long, dark table that they’d taken from the ruins of the same building they’d scavenged the outside marble steps from. That same building had held a lot of things to loot.

Repurpose was their official designation for that work.

But the wine…

It’s sweet. Carmen swirled the fluid in her glass. She didn’t know why, but she’d been told to do it.

And sharp.

You said there was a second radio call?

Harmony downed the rest of her drink. I did. Apparently, the emissary made better time than Mr. Lee expected. Oliver took some riders out to guide the old man in.

I…see. It seemed an odd thing, even if only a little. Reggie Lee had been almost a guide since establishing contact a few months back. He was punctual and smart, and he did a great job listening rather than talking. Carmen couldn’t help wondering what he looked like, if he was really who he claimed to be. What do we know about this emissary?

Berto Gonzalez. He’s in his sixties, so he’s from the old world. Silver hair, what Reggie said was a politician’s gut—

Carmen sucked in the little paunch that had developed as a result of all the celebrations and treaty dinners.

—and an eye with cataracts. Harmony crossed her leg and dusted her boot. She might not be one to concern herself with looking pretty, but her uniforms were well maintained.

Nothing about his mission?

Congratulations on the peace process, I guess.

"He said that?"

Harmony scowled. Don’t go getting all wet over this guy.

That’s uncalled for.

You know how these things go. He helped you, now you need to help him. If he has to sleep with you to get my army—

Security forces.

—my army to back his play, he’ll do it.

There’s nothing wrong with the idea of an alliance.

Right. My people get killed helping someone put down trouble with the Mormons, and that’s okay.

Did he say they were causing trouble again?

Does he need to? It’s basic economics, right? Scarcity? You’ve got people down in the old Phoenix area, you’ve got the Mormons in the ruins of the old Salt Lake City area and all their strongholds, then you’ve got us out here and Lee down in Vegas. We all need food and water. Before too long, we’re going to be competing for the same limited resources.

"That could be years out. There aren’t that many people in any of these areas—"

Harmony jumped to her feet. Listen, Carmen, we’ve spent most of our lives putting this together. I’m not going to let you throw it all away by thinking with your—

The front door banged open, booming in the hallway, and boots stomped on the hardwood floor. Harmony? Is Carmen in there with you?

Both sisters turned to the hallway door, but Harmony was the one to actually stroll to it. In here.

Steps drew closer, and a moment later, a handsome young man with black hair smiled at them. Unlike Harmony, Oliver Verona embraced his good looks. He liked the finery of his uniform and the way it drew the attention of the young ladies. Also unlike Harmony, he didn’t care much for the minutia of security operations, so he was content to act as her aide.

He swung around in the doorway. May I introduce Berto Gonzalez, emissary of the Las Vegas Alliance.

Carmen gulped at that. The Vegas people had already worked out titles.

An elderly man dressed in dark jeans, a black shirt, and a faded buckskin jacket limped past Oliver, pausing for a moment before extending a hand toward Carmen. You must be Carmen Verona, leader of the Unified Lands.

She blushed at the way the old man said it, like it was a title. Thank you.

Maybe president was a bit too much so early in the unification process.

Berto’s grip was a lot stronger than she expected. Our thanks go out to you.

You must be cold. Carmen waved toward the fire.

A little. He shuffled past her with a crooked smile and took a position at the fireplace.

You just missed the celebration, but we’ll have food left over. Would you like something after your travel? How…how did you travel? She glanced at Oliver.

Her brother winked. Electric buggy. It’s nice.

The old emissary’s smile widened. It is. Madam Leader, I’ve already eaten, thank you.

Once again, Carmen blushed. The old man was polished. Well, we have plenty of room here in the capitol building. If you’d like to clean up or rest—

Actually, if at all possible, I would like to speak to the three of you.

O-of course.

Berto pointed to the door. In private. His crooked smile was oddly charming.

Carmen waved for Oliver to close the door, but Harmony grabbed the handle and shook her head. She frowned at the emissary. There’s no one inside this building but us.

The old man looked around the room, then shrugged. Very well.

That only seemed to irritate the young woman. What is it that brought you across the mountains at such a desperate pace, Mr. Gonzalez?

Such an intrusion surprised Carmen. She squared her shoulders. Harmony, maybe it would be better if I had this talk with the emissary alone.

"Not no, but hell no."

Berto brought his hands up as a supplicant would. Please. It’s best if you’re all three here.

Carmen undid her chinchilla cloak, which felt far too heavy and hot now. All right.

Thank you. All of you. The old man stared into the firelight, which reflected a vivid red off his eyes. This shouldn’t take long.

I think it’s the nature of diplomacy for things to stretch out.

It is, isn’t it?

So, maybe we should plan to open discussions in the morning?

There’s no need to delay. He turned, neck creaking, eyes still reflecting the red fire.

You’ve traveled across the desert, dodging enemies—

Travel is a memory I’ve already discarded. What remains in my memory is the important message, the words of my master.

Your…master?

The old man straightened, and his friendly disposition faded along with any appearance of frailty. Reggie Lee sent me with a simple order.

Carmen backed away as the old man crossed toward her. What—?

I’m to bring him your heads.

Berto launched himself at her, left hand extended to grab her shirt, right hand drawn back for a punch. The sound of flesh tearing sent alarms through her, but she couldn’t understand why.

Then his right hand shot forward, an ugly blade poking between the central knuckles.

Before she could twist away, he took her to the floor, and that blade slashed across her chest, trailing fire from her shoulder to her belly.

She screamed and clawed at the old man, tearing away part of his face.

Oliver grabbed the emissary’s bloody blade arm and pulled it back.

But the arm twisted around, reversing the elbow unnaturally, and the blade dug into Oliver’s groin before cutting up and coming out through the young man’s chin.

He let out a wet, weak gurgling noise as he collapsed, clutching at his throat.

Then Harmony was there, a fire iron in her hand.

She swung the thing with a massive torque of her hips, cracking the old man’s head to the side and bludgeoning his skull with lethal force.

Berto fell aside and crashed to the floor.

Yet the fire in his eyes still burned.

Carmen gasped. His…face…

Where she’d torn away flesh, there wasn’t blood and muscle but a plastic skull and something meant to pass as sinew.

Harmony had already figured out that something was wrong, even before the emissary got back to his feet.

She brought the iron down on his head again. Then again. And again.

Each blow knocked his head aside at a more severe angle, until his neck must have been broken.

He still rose.

And he turned toward Harmony, blade arm cocked back for the killing blow.

Carmen couldn’t see the old man’s face, but she knew there was murder on it. Run! Get out!

Harmony’s pretty lips peeled back in a snarl. Not a chance.

She lunged at the bizarre emissary, rocking his head back with the thrust of the pointed fire iron.

This time, the old man lost his balance and went fully to the ground, twitching.

That gave the young woman all the time she needed to finish crushing the skull, one blow after another ringing off of it until plastic and metal bits were sprayed across the hardwood.

Blood rushed up between Carmen’s numbing fingers, and unimaginable pain spread through her chest.

She’d always wanted to meet Reggie Lee, maybe to get to know him…like her sister claimed.

Now the man had revealed all Carmen needed to know.

Reggie Lee wasn’t an ally but a terrible, murderous monster!

Chapter One

The first hint of sunrise touched the eastern sky, lighting the slope of the mountain beneath Captain Rhea Sae-Tan a prickly diamond white. As a child growing up in California, she hadn’t seen snow. Flooding, yes. Crazy storms that battered the coastal regions, undoubtedly. Drought also.

Not snow, though.

The temperatures never dropped sufficiently when there was precipitation, so there was either the rare winter rain or the even rarer cool days. After a couple hours in the Colorado snow, she decided she preferred Northern California.

Despite her boots being designed to keep moisture out, the snow was creeping in and soaking her socks. The combination of dampness and dangerous cold was miserable.

Crunching along like a plow to her left, Sergeant Borodin seemed immune. He blinked away the fat flakes and trailed thick plumes of steam like a locomotive. The way he dragged backpacks and bags behind him only enhanced the impression of an implacable machine.

Sae-Tan glanced down at Delilah. The little chimp seemed determined to match Borodin’s inexorable descent, even carrying the portable ARDA.

But Sae-Tan needed a break. Hold up.

She dropped to a knee beside the chimp, shrugging off the weight of the backpack and the portable ARDA unit in the process. The release was heavenly, a respite for a spine not intended for such abuse.

Delilah signed that she was okay. It was clumsy with the winter gloves on but readable.

Sae-Tan smiled. That’s good, Delilah. But with the cold, you need to be sure, so I’m going to check. Do you understand?

The chimp nodded.

When Sae-Tan tugged against the gloves secured to Delilah’s hands and feet, nothing seemed amiss. The pants and the thermals underneath were also fitted snugly. Beneath the cold weather jacket, the thermal top was damp but not freezing.

Sae-Tan tested the chimp’s ski mask. Can you see through the holes okay?

Okay.

After fleeing from Cassius and his fellow killer chimps, it was actually comforting to hear Delilah struggle to make human sounds. Cassius had been a horrible creation, a living proof that intelligence did not equate to human empathy.

Borodin dropped the straps to the bags he’d been dragging, then gingerly worked free of his backpack. When that sun comes up, it’s going to be blinding.

Sae-Tan looked at the eastern horizon. How far down do you think the snow goes?

Far enough. At the speed we’re moving, we won’t be off this mountainside before the sun’s fully risen.

Are you suggesting we rest until noon?

That doesn’t get us anything.

Sae-Tan opened her mouth just as the wind gusted, blasting sweet, cold flakes into her mouth. She let them melt, then swallowed. We just deal with it?

The staff sergeant shuffled off to the left, eyes lowered as if searching. That’s the way it goes.

So, that was just a warning?

Pretty much.

She stopped fussing over the chimpanzee and kept an eye on Borodin as he searched around. A couple of times, he bent down to run his hands through the snow. Once, his eyes tracked downhill, then back upslope. There was no way to miss the intense scrutiny in his gaze.

Apparently, that was exactly what she was supposed to do: act oblivious.

Acting oblivious didn’t sit well with her. She stood, stretched out her back, then searched around herself for any hint of a place she could hide behind. The best she spotted was a raised pile of snow.

That would have to do.

She held a hand out for Delilah. You need to relieve yourself?

The chimp squinted her eyes, then nodded and accepted the proffered hand.

Sae-Tan twisted at the waist. Sergeant Borodin, if you could keep your secretive searching for whatever it is you’re looking for over there, the ladies need to take care of private matters.

Borodin stiffened. I’m just checking the trail, ma’am.

Well, keep checking the trail.

Will do.

She led Delilah to the snow mound, then checked to be sure that it actually offered some cover. The chimp probably didn’t care, and a rational person who had served in the battlefield probably considered privacy a secondary concern at best, but Sae-Tan had gone through enough in the last couple days. Wanting to relieve herself without an audience didn’t seem such a great demand.

Delilah undid the belt of her pants, then tugged the pants and thermals down as if she’d lived in them from childhood.

Sae-Tan turned away and edged around the ape. Well, it looks like you’ve got things under control.

The captain tried to pretend that she wasn’t a few feet away from a talking chimpanzee, and that she wasn’t on a freezing mountainside three centuries after the last of humanity was being consumed by a runaway climate event, or that a secretive Ranger wasn’t twenty yards away. If scatology was his kink, he was getting a free show.

Cleaning herself with frozen white powder proved to be a new kind of thrill—if torture qualified as a thrill.

Her hands were red and numb, and she imagined her backside wasn’t much better.

Hygiene had always been as critical to her as privacy, which had been one of the challenges of joining the military. Communal showers, living in the wild, even going through the confidence course—it all required more acceptance of hygienic compromise and sacrifice of privacy than she had ever put herself through.

She high-stepped a few feet uphill, then plunged her throbbing hands into the snow, hastily scrubbing until she couldn’t handle it anymore.

Tears dampened the mask around her eyes.

Of all the things she had trained for and hoped to see in the waking world, a frozen mountainside hadn’t been a consideration.

After she had collected herself, she headed back to where the chimpanzee waited, staring curiously, then kicked snow over what they’d left.

Delilah held up a gloved hand. Okay?

Sae-Tan laughed. She felt ridiculous. No one was around to see her, but she’d been caught up in the idea that she had to hide. Other than being a little obsessive-compulsive, I’m okay.

Borodin had wandered off, but was returning to the trail, buttoning his pants. I didn’t mean to be secretive, ma’am.

All right. What would you describe the way you were searching as, if not secretive?

The staff sergeant squinted at the eastern sky. Okay. I guess I was being secretive.

Mind telling me why?

Mostly, it’s the computer.

ARDA? I told you, I shut her down.

You did. Don’t trust her, though.

There’s nothing to trust. The computer was shut down.

He nodded. Don’t know what happened to Major Alonso, either.

What do you mean?

Nothing. It’s just… He shrugged. Odd.

Sae-Tan pressed her hands against her thighs. Sergeant Borodin, being vague is the same as being secretive.

It is?

It is. Now, how about if we ditch the cryptic talking and go with some straightforward explanations?

The Ranger scraped a boot tip through the snow. I don’t think our people are alone.

What is that supposed to mean?

He pulled a knife from a sheath connected to his belt. Sergeant Carradine had this. She was holding it for me. I found it back there, maybe a quarter-mile up.

Sae-Tan tracked the way he pointed. Maybe she dropped it.

Figure she did. Intentionally. He stepped to the left, where the snow had been churned up by the people they were following. Some of these steps are pretty clear, not all. People are hiding their tracks. I can make out our boots. I can also make out what aren’t our boots.

Or, isn’t it possible that the things that don’t look like boots are just bad prints?

That’s possible.

But you don’t think so.

Nope. Some of these tracks are too big even for Sergeant Carradine.

Sae-Tan crossed to where he was staring. He knelt beside a clear print, then ran a finger around the shape of it. There were no obvious sole patterns, unlike some of the other prints.

Borodin stood, then planted his boot next to his mark in the snow.

His print was barely larger than the other.

Sae-Tan swallowed. How long have you known this?

Since we saw the tracks going down the mountainside. It’s one thing to see it in the flashlight beam; it’s another to see it in the sunlight.

She didn’t want to challenge him on calling the early morning gray sunlight. He’d been in the field for years, and he probably had a good sense of tracking.

But she couldn’t deal with not having things fully explained. All right. Someone took our people. Why?

They’re women.

That sort of sexist garbage is unacceptable, Sergeant.

Borodin nodded. If I’d meant it to be sexist, sure.

Then what do you mean?

Well, first I’m curious how someone was up on this mountainside when everybody’s supposed to be dead. I figure, let’s put that aside when we’re trying to figure out what happened. So, the next thing is big shoes are usually worn by men. That’s not sexist; it’s biology.

So, you think they were taken by men?

Kind of always been a fan of the most obvious solutions.

That was going to be trouble for Sae-Tan. Engineering was rarely about the most obvious solutions, and she wasn’t sure it was an ideal approach to anything else, either. So, men took the team, and you think it was because they were women. Is that right?

Minus the way you try to make it sound stupid, yeah.

Wind whistled in the silence as the captain studied the tracks. Finally, she sagged, and a sense of defeat settled in her gut. Is there anything else I should know?

Borodin ran a gloved hand under his nose and sniffled. There was a sniper nest up there.

A what?

Someone piled up snow around a nice rock information. It was good cover for anyone watching the side of that mountain. I figure, they must’ve been keeping an eye on that robot thing.

And you didn’t think that was worth sharing?

Still trying to put this all together, ma’am.

Sae-Tan groaned. In the future, I would prefer that you share suspicions with me rather than keeping them to yourself.

Can do.

Anything else before we continue down?

I’m worried that we didn’t find that chimp’s body.

Cassius?

Delilah let out a whimper and pulled against Sae-Tan’s grip. Bad.

Sae-Tan shushed the chimpanzee. He’s dead. It’s okay.

Borodin trudged over to his backpack and pulled it on, clearly favoring his left arm. I prefer to see the corpse before I say something is dead. That’s a hunting thing.

Is that where you learned your tracking and how to handle yourself in the snow?

I was in the 10th Mountain before the Rangers. You learn a lot.

You don’t think he’s dead?

I think he is. I just need to see the body to be sure. That skidding mark we saw in the snow—it’s a bit big for him, but it could’ve been him sliding downslope.

The captain slumped. You need to go back uphill?

He stared at the mountainside above them for a moment. Nope.

Then I think we should proceed downhill as fast as we can. Maybe we can rescue our people from these kidnappers.

That’s a good idea.

Sae-Tan stopped as she reached for her backpack. The way you said that, there was an implied ‘but.’

I guess. He shifted the weight of his backpack. I think we might want to hold up a couple more minutes.

Why would we want to do that?

Borodin sniffled again. Because we’ve got someone following us.

Sae-Tan spun around. Where?

Up there. You can’t make out much, not with the glare. It’s just one form, and it’s small.

Her heart raced. Cassius?

Not that small. He eased his assault carbine off his shoulder. I’m thinking you two make yourselves small but visible while I drift off over there.

You want to use us as bait?

You qualify as a marksman, Captain? I wasn’t sure if the Air Force even let their officers shoot a gun. He smirked playfully.

We’ll get small.

Exactly as he said, the Ranger moved across the snow almost like an animal. Before long, he was out of sight, lost in the sparkle of the rising sun’s glare from the snow.

Sae-Tan crouched beside the chimpanzee. Stay low. Try not to think about being a hunk of meat hanging from a tree limb, even if Sergeant Borodin apparently sees us in that way.

Delilah frowned. She signed that she was frightened.

Hunks of meat don’t feel emotions. The poor attempt at humor left Sae-Tan feeling more awkward than normal.

She squinted upslope, where the form had taken on an unmistakable human shape and gait. Despite hesitation at guessing because of the distance, it seemed like the form was small, exactly as the staff sergeant had said.

Seconds passed, and the approaching shape picked up speed. Its head was tucked low, and its arms were pressed close against its side.

A few more seconds passed, and it appeared that the form had a thick mass of dark hair and coppery skin.

Sae-Tan got to her feet. Gabby?

The form rushed toward her, the hands now coming out of pockets. It sounded like sobbing ran just ahead of it. Rhea!

Now more details became obvious: a blood-spattered uniform, black boots, a reddened face.

Sae-Tan turned toward where she thought Borodin had gone and cupped her hands around her mouth. It’s the major!

Almost immediately, she spotted the Ranger. He was jogging toward them.

He must’ve realized who it was some time ago.

Delilah made a questioning sound, then signed that she was scared.

Sae-Tan squeezed the chimpanzee’s hand. It’s all right. It’s going to be all right. Major Alonso is back. Everything is going to be okay.

Chapter Two

Alonso couldn’t remember ever feeling so comfortable in an Army uniform. The musty thermals chafed against her tender skin, and the heavy outer jacket was oversized, with arms long enough for the chimpanzee that had survived the mountain complex. Even the gloves were a size too large.

Yet it all felt so glorious.

She did her best to keep up with the others, even though her legs ached, and her joints felt frozen. A serving of reconstituted food powder weighed heavy in her gut, sending noisy, sour burps up.

And, like the clothes, these were all wonderful things.

After coming so close to death, everything in life was beautiful.

Sae-Tan trudged alongside, beaming. We just assumed you were one of the captives.

Alonso bit her cracked lip. I think this explains why they didn’t come looking for me.

And you’re sure he’s dead? Sergeant Borodin was insistent that until we see—

Cassius is dead. I blew his brains out.

Borodin turned around and chuckled. It was always a race to see who would be the one to finally kill him.

It almost felt wrong for there to be humor and happiness, knowing that the rest of the team had been kidnapped.

Alonso corrected herself: they didn’t know; they suspected.

Snow crunched beneath her boots, the sound muffled by the snowcap covering her head. She shifted the weight of the portable ARDA unit, feeling anxious being so close to something she considered deadly. Primitive humans kept themselves distant from threats, a basic defense that could often be irrational. She understood it now, even if she wished it would have stayed with the chimp.

The staff sergeant turned his attention back to the tracks leading down. Was that you who skidded down the snow?

We went looking for Cassius. He left a bloody trail that was easy to follow.

Saw that.

Something had killed him. It cut him up pretty bad.

That robot, the one with the tentacles.

You found the robot? Alonso bit back the obvious question: Why didn’t you find me?

All that churned up snow, it was obvious. Saw the blood, saw the bandage wrapper, and I saw the skid.

Bandage wrapper? Why didn’t you check where that skid went?

Borodin turned, then stopped, as if he had checked himself from turning all the way around. I saw tracks leading down the mountainside, and it looked like someone had our people.

Alonso blushed. Making this about her was misguided. She glanced at the trail the Ranger was following. Any idea how many?

Borodin’s head came around slightly. Only a guess. Three.

Three.

Only Carradine had been on her feet when Cassius had attacked. The scientists probably wouldn’t have put up a fight, even if they had been conscious. Three men would have been more than enough for a rational person to surrender to.

That didn’t make it any easier for Alonso to swallow.

The staff sergeant came to a halt. That’s a problem.

She saw it before he pointed: The snowpack thinned below. Maybe another hundred yards, and rocks and dirt were clear to see. Any chance we can track them?

May not need to.

He was looking farther downhill, where the mountainside transitioned to gentle hills. Smoke rose in thin columns from what looked like a walled-in set of buildings.

Alonso sucked in a breath. That looks like a settlement.

It does.

We can’t just go barging in, demanding our people back.

Nope. He sniffled. There’s a ridge over there. He pointed to the left.

You want to spy on the place?

Need an idea of numbers and how they live.

And how long do you plan on doing that?

Today.

We have no idea what they could be doing to our people.

We don’t. Does charging in there without knowing what’s going on reduce the odds of them being killed? He glanced over his shoulder at her.

Alonso interlocked her fingers to shove the gloves tighter over her hands. You’re my tactician.

We get on that ridge and watch through the day. Once we have an idea of what goes on in there, I’ll head in and try to negotiate for their release.

And what do you think is the more likely outcome?

Borodin wrapped the straps of the bags he was hauling tighter around his hands. There’s only three of us. If they’ve got guns, we can’t take on a settlement of that size.

So, we abandon our people?

Depends on if you feel like dying for a cause, Major.

Alonso glanced at Sae-Tan. The captain bowed her head, but there was no hiding the pain in her eyes. These people had been her comrades, and there was no way of not sharing in their plight. No one wanted to be taken captive, but it was a special hell for women.

After catching her breath, Alonso nodded. Let’s see what they’ve got.

The sun was directly overhead by the time they reached the ridge. Borodin hid his bags in the shadow of the outcrop, then climbed up most of the way before dropping to his belly and wriggling to the top.

Alonso stayed with Sae-Tan and Delilah, backs pressed against stone, eyes trained on the world around them.

Sae-Tan pulled off her gloves. We spent centuries sleeping, but I feel like I could take a nap right now.

It warmed up. Alonso worked her fingers, unsure whether she wanted to take the gloves off or not. I think I’ve quit shivering.

Did you suffer frostbite?

Probably. I got lucky. When I shot him, he was on top of me. He kept me warm while I was unconscious.

"I don’t know if I would consider that