The tracks were etched deep into the permafrost. A thin thread of black oil traveled in between them , still warm from its proximity to the engine. The fuel intake was leaking and it was only a matter of time before Reaper would find himself stranded in the cold darkness. The floodlights only revealed to him the flat tundra ahead. It was completely featureless, barren and alien. Nothing had touched this area ,for millions of years except for the tidal forces that kept the planetoids core just above its melting point.

Still exasperated and confused, he drove with his foot planted firmly on the accelerator. Reaper took no notice of the precipitous drop in fuel. His eyes were only set on the ground ahead , within the confines of the cones of light set amidst an impenetrable darkness. Nothing else seemed to catch his attention. Not the caution alarm on the fuel gage, not the slowly changing landscape , nor the quickly approaching ice wall.

The instant he saw it, a sheer wall that glistened under the light, his instinct took over. With his foot on the accelerator, he kept the buggy moving while pitching it to the side. Wheels began to slip with the loss of grip leading to the buggy to tip over. Now sliding on its side, still quite fast. The buggy slammed wheels first into the wall. The force of impact compressed the door frame, lodging the one free door into the passenger seat.

Reaper lost consciousness for a moment before waking up with vague memories of the crash. His hands reached for the seatbelt, finding it securely buckled. He struggled to release the harness before hitting the emergency release under the seat. On his back now he began to kick open the shattered windshield. One swift kick popped it off the frame.

As he crawled out he could feel a sharp pain in his chest. His ribs were aching , his sides purple from trauma. Breathing was difficult too , as each breath felt like a large weight was bearing down on his chest. Standing up was difficult. The ice was slick with a mixture of oil and wet ice. His feet slipped , bringing him to his hands and knees.

His vision was still blurry. A slight concussion had developed when his head was snapped back onto the plastic frame of his seat. His aching head kept him in a dull pain as he attempted to crawl towards the wall.

Now sitting against it, he could only see what was revealed by the floodlights that still functioned. Nothing, absolutely nothing but tundra. Only the wall and the wrecked buggy existed in this world. No lights from rescuers, no xenos out to feast on easy prey. Nothing. And in that realization was something more horrific than death, that his life would end without anyone noticing.

Another tremor passed under him. Chunks of ice fell from the wall. At first it seemed to be pebble sized pieces. Then the sound of cracking ice screeched in his ears. He looked up and all he saw was a shiftless emptiness. His eyes strained , trying to absorb what little light that existed. A small form seemed to be moving, an amorphous shadow against the inky void.

It was quick and it was large. He didn't realize how tall the wall was but saw quickly that the falling chunk was no mere pebble. Reaper struggled to pull himself away from the wrecked buggy. His gloved hands failed to grasp anything ,forcing him to slide across the ice using his knees and elbows.

The slab of ice crashed down on the wreck with a tremendous force. Axles popped off like bottle caps, the wheels sent hurtling into the darkness. Huge cracks appeared under it as if the floor was about to fall through. The floodlights went out , leaving Reaper with only the sound of shattering ice sheets.

Furiously he attempted to activate the suit lights. Nothing happened. Switching on the HUD was just the same. Looking around , he found the reason. Under him was a pool of fuel cell fluid and the smashed remnants of the battery that held it. A long string of swears in English, Spanish and Galactic thundered through his helmet .

He searched his body for a flare , the envirosuits always came with them. A swift snap of the cap of the only flare he had bathed the surroundings in bright red. Tiny droplets on thecy surface refracted the light into a sea of infinitesimally small yellow dots. He surveyed the damage,seeing everything thoroughly crushed, leaving little hope that the radio on board would have survived. His own radio lay smashed into pieces at the edge of the ice crater.

His eyes moved onto the ice wall and saw something peculiar. It seemed the ice wasn't completely solid. PIeces of ice that fell when the buggy crashed revealed a blue tinged surface . He crawled towards the open patch of ice , mindful of the slowly dying flare. With the little energy he had left, he braced himself against the wall with his hands and slowly stood up, one foot after the other.

The open patch was close , just within arms reach. He pulled the glove from his right hand and touched the bare surface. It was metal, cold as the ice that encased it. He knocked on it with the solid tone telling him that the wall was solid. A thin layer of ice still covered the patch though. He used his loose glove to wipe off the tiny pieces of ice. Now the rivets and panel lines were clear before the flare died.

Nowhere was there an indication that rescue was coming. Though the tracks his buggy left would be enough to find him, finding the tracks in this desolation.

Only touch was the remaining sense that didn't actively bring jabs of pain to him. With no light, there was only the ice wall to guide him. The rescue beacon , a standard issue strobe light, was loaded into the emergency chest that now was flattened. It was a compromise between the safety corp and the operational HQ , necessary since unduly loading up a soldier with unnecessary equipment reduced their effectiveness. Just one flare was left, kept close to his chest, like his fleeting sense hope.

His pained march against the ice wall was merely to keep his body from freezing over. The dead silence was the perfect backdrop though to heighten the presence of rescue vehicles. That would be the time to light up the flare. But the encroaching frost would get to him before that if no shelter was found.

His body was tired but now the need of shelter forced him onward. Careful steps on the slippery ice led to a slow and methodical search with only his hand to guide him. Though his envirosuit kept the warmth in , there was nothing to replenish it. It may take hours to reach hypothermia, his life would depend on prompt rescue. Otherwise , no amount of insulating fibers would keep him alive for long

It seemed like he travelled kilometers with his hand against the ice. The cold pierced through his glove , forcing him to switch hands as he hobbled along. His watch, its green glowing backlight splashing the surroundings in a pale light, showed two hours had passed.

TIme passed slowly without any stimuli. Everything seemed to move slower, feel more dull and featureless. The floor seemed to blur and the ice wall seemed to expand into the horizon. His hand become numb but there was little he felt before then making the transition noticeable. Four hours passed when he slowed his walk to a shuffle.

His eyes focused into infinity, his mind blanking out but his body still creeping along. A burst of air from nearby swept over him, imparting just enough warmth to reveal the pain traveling up his arm. After a brief swearing tantrum , he picked up his pace.

His hand passed an open space suddenly which caused him to lose his balance. He twisted his body, landing on his back inside what seemed to be a tunnel. A warm breeze flowed over him, fogging his face plate and sending a tingle up his spine. It was shelter, he hoped and above all else it was warm..

He pulled himself into the cramped corridor. There he noticed a faint light ,further inside. Sitting there still cold, he was tempted to go towards it. He entertained the idea before the realization that xenos could be lurking anywhere. Partly from fear and partly from his survival instinct, he sat at the foot of the entrance.

He slipped into sleep, against his will. Then he heard the ice churn far away from him. He instantly popped the flare open and waved it outside the entrance. He couldn't see anything past the light from the flare but he could hear the distant sound of wheels tearing through the ice.

A set of 6 lights came over the horizon, followed by the massive hulks of the mechs bathed in flood lamps. He stood up , waved more, ignoring the shooting pain in his legs. He yelled, not realizing that his helmet muffled his voice.

The group aligned with the waving flare , its red flame brilliant against the black canvas of the cavern. Though nearly ten kilometers away, its was as if the darkness parted in fear of of the flare. The darkness relented and allowed the light to exist and in its hasty departure allowed it to pass through the barren wasteland unimpeded.

"HQ , this is Zephyr 1 , we have spotted what looks like an emergency flare. Its probably Reaper. Im engaging the flamers just in case" , Ryuki reported in. It was the frankness of the statement that surprised Ross. Out there, Reaper could have been eviscerated, the flare could be a trap set up by those creatures. Anything was possible. To Barry, that heightened the anxiety. He cursed at his luck that he was forced into a buggy. Unarmed and unarmored, he was an open target for anything looking for a night snack. His rifle couldn't possibly protect him against the swarms; he imagined them with split mouths like mandibles, proboscis dripping in anticipation for a fresh meal.

"This is slaging me off, why the hell do I have to go in with a buggy? There are THINGS out there! And I have a pea shooter! I seen the movies , boys. I know what happens to a guy like me. The jerk, getting his comeuppance by way of horrible mutilation and torture. Yeah ,I get it, Im an frakhole", Barry complained.

"How bout this, for this mission I'll recommend quintuple hazard pay for you. Sounds good?" Ryuki radioed back. "Hey man, this aint no joke. This isn't a game man. My life's on the line out here. You guys sit in your tin cans, I sit out here in a glorified golf cart. Its gotta be at least ten times" Barry replied with an anxious laugh.

"Alright , just keep it together and I'll make it happen" the radio chirped. Ahead, the frantic flare settled down. Ryuki switched to the short range squad channel on the radio. "Can you hear me out there?" he called out.

"Barely sir" the weak voice said. "Uh I think theres something here you guys need to see" .

They reached the wreckage and a few hundred meters away was Reaper, sitting on the ground with his arms folded over his chest. Ryuki quickly disembarked his mech , with Ross in tow , while Barry stood next to his buggy with his rifle. They prepared him for hypothermia treatment, tossing an insulating blanket over him as they strapped him to a gurney.

They loaded him up into the warm flight deck of Ryuki's mech, with Ross using his own for a makeshift elevator. Before he could close the hatch, Reaper spoke. "Toss a beacon in there, youre gonna wanna come back. Something there you wanna see", he said with a weak voice. "Alright pal, I got it" he replied then tossed a marker beacon out.

.