Prisons of Ice and Fire

On The Ice

The Cult had timed their decision to take the crate to the pole perfectly; there was an election within The Heptet on the day we left. The Captain quizzed me about what was going on but I played dumb and just told him that the crate needed delivering. I assume he messaged The Heptet, but we were on our way in the hour without going back to The Hub, leaving me the whole journey there and back again in agony.

Firstly, I knew The Bulwark would be cooped up in the crate for two weeks and I desperately wanted to talk to him. Secondly, I could not imagine what I was going to say to Dragu on our return. I had a feeling that if I mentioned anything of what was happening it would literally start a war however I was under no illusion that I would get away with not saying anything.

We stopped at our own City to pick up the ice truck and skidoos in return for the rover and sand bikes but that took no more than an hour. To make things worse, the crew and the prisoners were still being friendly to me, so I had little to do and had to put up with their banter even though I wasn't in the mood. Once we hit the 39th though, everyone became too focused on keeping warm and staying alive to bother me too much, so I went through the ritual with the others but was personally glad to be cocooned in my winter gear, out of sight, out of mind.

Luckily for all we encountered no really big freak waves and the fairly recent refit the ship had been through meant that the gear was safe. In fact, for the first time in a long while we lost no-one which I considered a good omen. By the time we reached the Ice Quarry port I had almost forgotten about my woes; it was common in the cold to think of the heat and vice-versa. For some reason whenever I was in my bunk I found myself dreaming of the Last Ground and going meticulously through in my mind all the buildings I had seen that day. The wind was low as we docked which always makes things easier and within half an hour the ice truck and skidoos were ready. In the meantime, the other prisoners were already hard at work loading the ship with the huge rectangles of hard, pressed ice.

The short daylight was already failing as I started the ice truck engine and followed through the checklist. Outside I could hear the skidoos being started and the crew who were going to follow me part of the way shouting to each other about how crazy this was. I had to admit that even compared to the desert drive this was pretty mad; at least in the desert the track wouldn't collapse under you and drag you hundreds of feet to your death. That being said, even I was quite shocked at how quickly the crew turned back; we had barely done five miles of the journey before I lost sight and sound of them.

I suppose loading the ice was hard enough in the short hours of light and some warmth and as such I reasoned that The Bosun frankly really didn't give a toss what I was doing. I did think maybe he would care whether I brought back his truck in one piece, but on the other hand, it was a bit of a liability as I later found out. I suppose his logic was that without it he would never have to risk his own neck driving it himself.

Within a mile of the place where I was due to drop the crate, the damn thing broke down.

As far as I could make out a linkage in the track had jammed which was pretty critical. I still had the capability to radio the ship, but instead I decided to see if I could coax The Bulwark out of the crate to help me. At the end of the day, I was just to wait in the truck this time while he did his work and not return to the ship so I thought he might as well just get on with it. Luckily the winch was still working so I managed to get the crate down onto the ice.

I wasn't really sure what trigger he would use to decide it was safe to come out; I mean it was entirely possible he had some kind of ability to figure out where he was from inside the crate.

After five minutes nothing happened, so I gave the crate a swift kick and headed back into the cab of the truck to keep warm as the temperature was dropping incredibly fast.

I was almost dropping off to sleep when I heard an almighty bang. I looked out of the window and could just about see The Bulwark through the blizzard that was setting in. He was busy fixing the broken linkage on the ice truck's track. Not long after I gathered he had finished as he came to the window and gestured to me to talk to him on the radio. I tried to indicate I didn't think that was a good idea as the crew might overhear, but he would have none of it. I turned on the radio and simply said "Thank you for that, I don't think I would have got back otherwise."

"Come outside," he replied, "we can't get to where we need to be in the truck anyway. I have a breathing mechanism in the crate and a heater, I can carry you in that."

Rather unsure, I followed his instructions. It wasn't that I didn't trust him just that I had no idea if he was making this up on the fly or if it had been planned.

Firstly I checked the ice truck was safe to leave where it was and would restart on my return, then I opened the door and immediately The Bulwark grabbed me. I didn't struggle as I wasn't sure he knew his own strength, but ever so quickly and gently he turned around and placed me in the crate.

I was rather surprised when he slammed the panel shut on me, but so cold I was grateful. I had no idea how I would get out again, but assumed that he did and, indeed, once I could feel him pick me up and set off, his voice came over a communicator,

"How are you in there?"

"Ok," I answered, "it is actually very warm and bright in here." which it was.

"I can't talk much until we get there I'm afraid, it's too much hard work concentrating in this damn blizzard, but we should be there within the hour" came the terse reply.

"Ok" I said, and left it at that.

As on the ship, I found that if I closed my eyes the movement affected me less which was a benefit as I really needed to do some thinking. After a while I drifted in and out of sleep, unable to reconcile what I expected to find when we got to the station with what I already knew. Although the crate was very well insulated, even I could feel the change in terrain when we arrived nearer the station; the undulating movements over the drifts stopped and the going was firm but juddery which I assumed was flat, worked snow. A few minutes later we stopped and I could feel the crate being lowered to the floor.

When the hatch popped, I was ready to leap out assuming I would need to rush out of the blizzard, but the moment the lid opened, there was no immediate howl of air and inrush of cold as I had expected. The face of The Bulwark looking down at me was, however, rather disconcerting considering its setting amongst a mass of metal and wires. He smiled and the robot stood back allowing me the space to evacuate my cosy womb. Without needing to lift my head I could see from the roof above me that we were in a large, fairly high building of some kind with overhead lighting glaring down.

Once over the side of the crate and upright I could see that the conjecture was correct.

"This is the vehicle bay" said The Bulwark, spreading his metal arms, "impressed?"

I certainly was. I lifted out the communications array that had been my pillow in the crate and asked him simply, "Some renovation, I take it you didn't do it all by yourself?"

His face darkened slightly, as I think he understood what I was getting at, but it swiftly passed as he described the rest of the layout to me,

"That roller door there is the way we came in, and through there is the entrance to the rest of the facility: room for twenty people to live. There's a kitchen, rec. room, showers and all that."

Pointing to a door up a sloping walkway, he added "Up there is the control room and comms gear and on top of the roof of that is the dish, so we need to go up there."

As had crossed my mind during our journey across the ice and having now seen the place, I firmly believed I had been railroaded into coming here.