Notes: Again, I'm kinda amazed at the attention this has received so far, especially considering that M-rated 'fics are not seen in the standard rotation and 'hide in the shadows', as it were.
I received some bad news regarding a family member today so this might be the last chapter I post for a little bit. This catches me up to where I've posted elsewhere, so from this point on I have new content(though I originally posted this chapter about a few weeks ago, so this could be considered new content, haha). I still need to get to reviews(especially Kocainum, who has been fairly prolific and has presented some great feedback), but likewise I will have to wait until things become more clear and the cards fall where they may.
Chapter 16: Frozen Liberation
The morning passed in a blur of activity; waking up and sharing a hasty breakfast with Krys; I made the final preparations to our gear while she prepped the shuttle for its first real excursion since it landed here. I only barely felt it take off as I was engrossed in making sure we had everything we would need.
To some I guess it should have been an exciting experience; a once in a lifetime opportunity. Celebrities paid millions to be in similar shoes to mine; billionaires funded their own private space programs to put themselves in orbit. I was technically in their rarified echelons as I saw the azure glow of atmosphere fade to the obsidian darkness of space. Instead, there was a feeling of nervousness and dread.
I understood what would await us once we landed; snow, freezing temperatures, chaos, and gunfire. I would likely be the source of most of that gunfire, but it didn't mean I relished being put into the position of fighting. If any of those pirates survived we would be outclassed; Krys and I could handle Sharpclaw and the variety of predatory Saurian wildlife but I didn't rate my chances that well against hardened criminals armed with energy weapons.
Taking a deep breath I checked my weapons once again. My Glock 34 was holstered on my belt; four additional magazines in pouches I removed from John's belongings sharing space with four more pouches holding magazines for my rifle. The AR15 was clean and as ready as it would be; the batteries that powered the red dot sight and flashlight worked without a hitch and the spares that were in one of the duffel bags were also charged. My uncle's hand cannon was holstered in a crossdraw position on my left side along with a few speedloaders for it; extra ammo was tucked into my backpack along with some food, water, medical supplies, and the 1911 we planned to arm the ostensibly stranded Lylatian pilot with if we managed to make contact.
Finally, the snub-nosed Ruger .357 was tucked in the pocket of my leather jacket; ten of my few remaining Magnum rounds stashed in another just in case I needed it. Taking a deep breath I put one of my headphones in my ear and cued up some music I had stored on my phone; a fitting song for the coming moments coming to my ears as I made my way out of the shuttle's living area and into the cargo bay. The simple yet powerful bassline to Wardruna's Helvegen carried to my ears; a song about mortality and remembrance of the dead.
My Lexus sat in the cargo bay; its gleaming dark blue paintwork standing out against the bright lights casting down upon it. If possible we'd use it to help ward against the freezing temperatures as we made our way to the mines, but we would need to find a feasible place to land. Whether we exited using the cargo ramp or the ship's airlock depended on where we could land so I stayed put by my car, but I needed some time to center myself. Thankfully I had it.
I felt the ship sway a little bit before I felt a very soft, almost imperceptible thump from the landing skids. We had arrived. I took a deep breath as I cut the music and placed my phone and headphones on my car; reaching for my rifle and chambering a round. The metallic snick-clack it made was an exclamation mark that shattered the silence and signaled the start of going back into the fray.
"Once more into the breach, dear friends." I muttered, only then hearing footsteps behind me descending the short series of stairs. Krystal stood behind me; her staff in her hand and the brace of pistols I offered her holstered on the waist of her flightsuit. She gave a soft smile as she placed her hand on my shoulder.
"I found an empty box canyon near the Snowhorn camp, che." She nodded to the cargo door. "It's close, but far enough away that we should have a couple of minutes before the Sharpclaw come to investigate."
"How do you want to play this, hon?" I asked, taking a deep breath. The hand on my shoulder tightened a bit; a reassuring presence flitting across my troubled thoughts. "Cargo ramp or airlock?"
"Airlock." Krys answered. "It's facing away from the entrance to the canyon and should give us some cover. Is your clothing warm enough? It's about minus seven out."
I was about to ask her which measurement system she was using but I was under the distinct impression she meant centigrade. That meant it wasn't bone-chilling frigid, but it was pretty cold. I had my snow boots on and had enough presence of mind to bring one of my thicker baseball caps and a pair of light gloves from John's kit, so I figured I'd be okay until we made it to the mines. "Yeah, I'll be alright. It's about the lower limit of my comfort level, but I won't freeze to death. What about you?"
She pointed to a small pack which was perched upon the hip of her flightsuit. "Part of the LISA equipment. The suit has a climate control function and will keep me warm and cool as needed." She motioned to something else which was attached to her waist; in place of the bulky helmet she had taken one of the respirators from the leftover equipment downstairs. "Just in case we run into anything noxious, though we now know the power packs are only good for a couple of hours when used as environmental gear. I brought a few extras in case they're necessary."
I nodded at her before taking my mostly useless phone and tucking it into my inside jacket pocket. "Hopefully we won't run into anything like that, but it's good to be prepared." I turned towards the stairs leading down to the engine room and airlock. "We should get going; I'd rather engage them from a distance than wait for them to get up close."
We crossed over to the airlock; its display reading out that the atmospheric pressure and composition in our landing area was within acceptable levels, albeit with a warning regarding high altitude and a recommendation of life support equipment for extended excursions. The pendant Krystal had given me had proven to be quite valuable; it had made conversing with the Saurians possible as well as allowed me to navigate the Lylatian ship. Tidbits of information like that would be of critical importance. Years of living and recreation at high altitudes made me confident that I would be fine, though I could understand the importance of Krystal bringing protective gear along.
"The same goes for you, che." Krystal stated as the airlock doors closed behind us. I could hear a mechanical whirring coming from behind the exit; the internal display flashing a 'Ramp Lowering: please wait' message. "We will need to stick together as much as possible. We have the advantage in weaponry and range; the Sharpclaw have the advantage in numbers and brute strength."
I nodded. "Just be careful, hon." As the display beeped that the ramp had been lowered, I spared a second to look into her eyes. Her emerald gaze was full of determination and a hint of the pain that had been recently dredged up; at the same time there was also a hint of that softness and affection which had captivated me over the past few days. I couldn't resist the urge to reach up and stroke her cheek; the hard glint in her eyes softening at my touch.
She leaned forward, pressing her lips to mine in a brief kiss; the nearly electric tingle of our contact seemed to linger after she pulled away. "We will prevail, dearheart. Now, let's rescue the Snowhorn from their captors." She turned and pushed the release mechanism to the door; filling the airlock with a wintry blast I had been expecting but not looking forward to.
The air outside was cold and perhaps a little thin but at least there wasn't any wind; whether that was an effect of the miniature atmosphere or something else I wasn't sure, but I wouldn't complain. The scenery outside was similar to what we already faced on Ice Mountain; snow-covered ground and rocky cliffs surrounded us. It was daylight and the reflection of the snow caused us to wince; I slid my polarized Wayfarers on to protect my eyesight.
As we reached the bottom of the ramp I could already see several figures at the entrance to the box canyon; the bulky, lumbering form of Sharpclaw prepared to greet us with their signature form of brutality. This time we were more than ready for them. "Two have crossbows!" Krystal warned; pointing forward as she extended her staff.
I wasn't a great judge of distance but they were probably seventy or eighty yards out; I didn't really want a demonstration of how far those crossbows reached. I snapped the AR15's red dot magnifier into place as I raised the rifle to my shoulder; thumb flicking the selector lever to 'FIRE' as I braced myself against one of the landing struts.
With the low level of zoom provided by the magnifier I could see which ones had crossbows; big, heavy things that looked like they stood a good chance of punching through even modern body armor. One of them started to shoulder his weapon; I wasn't going to let him get a shot off. I placed the red dot on his chest and pulled the trigger.
The rifle spoke into the cold air; its sharp crack causing the Sharpclaw to stiffen as the recoil gently pushed against my shoulder. I wasn't sure if I hit, but I wasn't really thrown off target and I pulled the trigger again. The crossbow-wielding Sharpclaw crumpled to the ground as the others decided to brave the opening salvo of gunfire and start rushing in.
I scanned for the other crossbow wielder but I was almost too late. A deep, resonant buzz snapped into my ears; a harsh clang almost instantly followed as a wooden bolt about the diameter of my thumb smacked into the landing strut I had braced against. The cold metal vibrated against me as I clenched my teeth; aim swinging onto the one I had missed. The remaining ranged combatant was reaching for another bolt, but I wasn't going to give him another shot at me. I pulled the trigger twice more, this time seeing a splash of crimson mist as my reptilian opponent pitched backwards.
I didn't have time to process the death I had caused as we were under attack. The snap-whoosh of Krystal's staff filled the air; a bright red bolt of flame lancing across my vision to impact with one of the melee fighters. Their chest caved in as they were slammed to the ground as if kicked by a giant. I shook off my morbid amazement and targeted another one of the aggressors; this time firing a single shot that caused them to tumble to the icy ground as if I had willed it to happen.
The Sharpclaws' advance faltered at that point, but we knew that wouldn't last. Krystal stood behind one of the other landing struts as we fired a combination of staff blasts and 5.56mm cartridges. I kept mental track of my remaining rounds as I fired; making sure to make every one count. A blast from Krystal's staff felled the last Sharpclaw; the echoes of our weapons fading from the canyon as we wordlessly made our way forward.
My companion nodded at me as we made our way through the snow; it was only a couple of inches deep though I made sure to keep my steps deliberate in case I hit a patch of ice. We passed the remains of the fallen reptilian combatants; the gruesome wounds of her fire blaster proving the effectiveness of her weapon. I tried to shake the images of death out of my mind and concentrate on the task at hand, though I winced when I saw the crossbow-wielding Sharpclaw I had shot. I had hit one in the head, and the wound from a lightweight, high velocity rifle round was not very pretty. I closed my eyes for a moment, taking a few deep breaths as we passed.
Krystal's hand found my arm, distracting me enough to glance back at her. She shared my grim expression, but her voice entered my mind. 'It is normal to be disturbed by the results of battle, dearheart. Ours is not an easy task; claiming lives to save others. We can talk later if you wish?' Understanding the critical importance of silence in our current situation, I nodded at her. Her hand squeezed my arm reassuringly as we entered the small gorge which led away from the box canyon; parting soon after to take up better fields of fire. Ostensibly this gorge led towards the labor camp I remembered from the game, though the general layout of Darkice Mines weren't similar to what the game depicted.
The gorge made a sharp bend; one which we approached cautiously. This time I went first; rifle leading the way as Krystal hung back in case I needed cover. I blinked in surprise as I couldn't see anyone; the gorge opening up about a hundred yards ahead to reveal a glimpse of a couple of the large, dome-shaped shelters that I remembered from the game. I stole a quick glance at my Cerinian companion, her expression growing concerned. 'Either they all came to meet us or they have set up an ambush ahead. Stay alert. I can't quite sense anyone from this distance.' Once again I nodded; keeping the AR15's stock tucked into my shoulder as we continued forward. Silence hung in the chilled, still air; in more normal circumstances I would have welcomed the peacefulness but this time I dreaded what we might find.
As we neared the mouth of the gorge Krystal's posture relaxed somewhat; speaking out loud in a low, nearly whispered tone. "I cannot sense any more Sharpclaw; however I can sense three Snowhorn. They are anxious, so let's try not to startle them." I lowered my rifle as we emerged into another open area; this time it looked much closer to the game's design.
Other than the gorge and box canyon we had landed in and fought through, the small camp was littered with several structures that were obviously made to shelter Snowhorn. To our left, the wide area seemed to lead to an area which glowed an ominous red-orange; the magma-filled cavern which Fox used to park his Arwing within the not so fictional setting of the game. It would likely be filled with the dangerous gasses which we encountered on Ice Mountain and I preferred to stay as far away from that as humanly possible.
The Snowhorn captives were easy to spot; they had been denied the benefits of shelter and likely regular food by the looks of it. They had been shackled to thick, sturdy wooden poles jammed into the frozen earth; one of them had taken to slumping against the shelter they had been bound next to. They eyed us warily; in a fashion that suggested they were nervous of us but lacked the physical and mental energy to do more than back up a couple of steps.
'Garunda Te was right; they are suffering greatly at the hands of the Sharpclaw.' Krystal winced as we approached one of the captives. I kept alert; though let my rifle dangle on its sling to show that we weren't a threat. "Please do not be alarmed; we were sent by Garunda Te to free you and retrieve the Spellstone." She kept her voice even, though I could feel that her emotions were a mixture of sadness and anger; I was confused for a moment as I realized that I was dimly feeling emotions that were distinct to mine. It was something that mildly surprised me. I hadn't asked her about it yet, but between that and the ease of our telepathic communication I had a mild suspicion that something happened between us.
One of the shackled mammoths spoke, their voice weak with exhaustion and weary from what had been obviously abusive treatment. "Garunda Te sent you? Neither of you are from any tribe we know of; are you not of this world?"
"That is correct." Krystal replied. "I am Krystal of Clan Sallas sal Temeris, of Cerinia. My companion is Adam of Clan Strayton sal Colorado, of Earth." I blinked at her introduction, realizing she was both pulling that information from my surface thoughts and presenting it in a fashion that wouldn't present too much confusion to the Snowhorn.
Another Snowhorn spoke up, her voice barely a croak against the background noise. "What of the Sharpclaw that were holding us captive? We heard strange noises."
"They've been dealt with." I answered, tapping the stock of my rifle in emphasis. Glancing to the shackles on their legs, I decided to ask the obvious. "Do any of you know where they kept the keys to those things?" While I was reasonably sure my rifle or possibly the .44 would defeat the locks the chance of fragmentation and spalling made it somewhat dangerous.
The first Snowhorn spoke up. "They have it in one of their huts." He pointed with his trunk to the igloo-like structures sitting about twenty yards away.
"I'll go check it out." I replied, giving Krystal a smile before turning to the huts. As I made my way to them I could hear her start to strike up conversation with them. That was likely for the better; while I felt I could talk freely with her, I wasn't really going to be of much help with chatting up the locals. Whether that was my introverted nature speaking or just a way to keep me from focusing too much on the absurdity of my current situation by not talking to sapient mammoths, I wasn't sure. Considering the level of intimacy I was sharing with Krystal, I suspected the former was more likely.
Despite Krystal's assurances they were unoccupied I kept ready as I approached the door to the hut; drawing my pistol as it would be a little handier than a rifle in such close quarters. I nudged it open with my boot; a welcome burst of heat assailing me from within the opening. I glanced in, letting my Glock lead the way as I entered. A fire pit was the central feature, complete with a roaring fire whose occupants would never stoke again. Crudely made sleeping bags and other personal effects littered the area, striking the point home that these weren't faceless lizardmen we faced, but also living beings. At the same time, I tempered my conscience with the fact they had been abusing the Snowhorn. Rummaging through the effects I came up with a roughly-shaped iron key; it felt heavy and sturdy despite the less than professional finish.
I slid the key into my pants pocket; giving the hut another look. Something didn't seem right; there were too many bedrolls to have accommodated the number of Sharpclaw Krys and I had faced in the box canyon. Furthermore there were two bedrolls which were far larger than the rest. It didn't take a major leap of logic to infer that those were the property of those larger 'elite' Sharpclaw; a foe she hadn't yet faced and I had defeated only by a combination of surprise and shotgun slugs. A wave of concern filled my senses as I put the pistol away and readied my rifle; we weren't quite safe.
I wasn't sure I had the hang of the ad-hoc telepathic communication Krys and I had started to share, but hopefully I got it right. 'There's unaccounted for stragglers, hon.' Still moving I reached the door, pushing it open to emerge once again into the wintery wastes. 'I'd say three or four, along with two of the bigger ones. I got the key to the Snowhorns' shackles; we should get them to safety just in case.'
I glanced to my left as soon as I exited; Krystal already turning to face the path that would lead to the mines. She spared me a quick glance and pointed forward. 'Too late! I just started to sense them; they've been sent here from their other camp to investigate the noise!'
I tucked the AR15's stock into my shoulder, taking it off safe. The fog and blowing snow made it almost impossible to see anything farther than about thirty yards. 'How far? I can't see them!'
Krystal started forward, putting some distance between herself and the captive Snowhorn. She was already on the edge of my vision as it was, but somehow the telepathic link we had created gave me a good idea of where she was. 'Eighty to a hundred meters in front of us. They can't see us yet; I can guide you.'
I can't really describe what I felt, but it wasn't much different than walking through your house in pitch darkness. That same 'sixth sense' of knowing roughly where your living room table was came to my mind, except the red dot of my rifle's sight fell upon a vaguely distinct shape somewhere in the fog. I felt a compulsion to take a shot; my finger pressing the trigger at the same time I heard the snap-whoosh of her staff's fire blaster. Our weapons spoke in tandem, a scream of pain echoing into the freezing mist for a split second before snarls of anger and surprise drowned it out.
I shifted my aim to another indistinct area and fired again; this time actually glimpsing a vague shape cartwheeling to the snow as I hit it. My Cerinian companion's staff fired again; this time the bolt illuminating a Sharpclaw that got knocked to the ground as if a giant had kicked it.
This time our fire was answered by a baritone voice bellowing out a challenge in Saurian. "Come and meet our blades, warmblood cowards!" Two large shapes started to emerge from the mists; the imposing sight of heavily armored Sharpclaw. I barely bit back a wave of panic; they stood about ten feet in height and probably weighed over a thousand pounds. They were clad in plate armor; the darkened iron standing out from their dark blue scales. The swords they carried would have been unwieldy for Andre the Giant; in addition to that they carried thick wooden shields about the size of a dining room table.
Krys' voice responded in my mind. 'Divide their attention! You take one, I take the other! Do not let them get close!' She responded to the challenge, her voice full of venom as she spoke. "On my honor as a Guardian, we will not let these Snowhorn come to further harm! Face us and pay with your blood!"
The massive Sharpclaw that had spoken turned to Krystal; a predatory grin tugging at his lips. "Your skins will make fine trophies, warmbloods!" On that cue they charged us, my heart leaping into my chest at the sight of a small car's worth of pissed off Saurian aiming to cut us in half.
"Get some, motherfucker!" I snarled back, placing the red dot on the other Sharpclaw's center mass before firing. I dimly heard Krystal's staff go off multiple times through my shots; seeing splinters of wood erupt from the Sharpclaw's shield as they charged through our fire. The Sharpclaw I targeted staggered a bit as I landed multiple hits but he kept coming; with a yelp I tried to dive out of the way.
I wasn't completely successful as the brutish lizardman swung his shield into me. I felt like I got hit by a car; I wasn't sure how far I was knocked aside but there was some airtime involved. The snow cushioned my fall somewhat; even then I felt the air get knocked out of my lungs as I hit. I somehow kept hold of my rifle and managed to not accidentally shoot myself on the way down. The alarming thought that I could have easily put a bullet into my own leg was like news from a distant country; so was the angry growl followed by a feminine yipe coming from somewhere behind me. The far more pressing concern was the towering Sharpclaw brute who was about to bisect me with a seven foot long sword.
Winded and disoriented, I didn't have time to stand up or even to aim. I just pointed the rifle at the massive Sharpclaw and fired. This time he tried to block my fire with his shield; splinters of wood flying in the air as the rifle rounds punched through. I remembered from a practical demonstration by a buddy who had been in the military that 5.56mm lost some steam when going through barriers; I wasn't sure I was doing much damage. A snarl of pain and rage erupted from the brute as the rifle's bolt locked back; I was empty.
I let go of the rifle and reached for my uncle's Model 29; my winded, rattled mind had come up with an idea that would either work or would turn out to be a final, fatal mistake. Despite the snow and frozen ground the bastard wasn't wearing boots or any armor on his legs. Even though he took multiple hits from an AR15 the bastard was still standing; as he advanced I knew it was now or never. I lined up the sights and stroked the deceptively smooth double-action trigger.
Multiple things happened simultaneously. I didn't register the shot; only a stinging sensation in my hand. A brilliant flash of crimson blossomed on the Sharpclaw's leg; the brute crumpled to his now-ruined knee with another scream that was more pain than rage. I shifted my aim upwards; this time I heard the thunderclap of the big .44 going off. The stinging returned as the S&W bucked against my grip, heralding another splash of crimson as the second heavy, hard-cast bullet found its mark. To my relief the brute pitched backwards, crashing to the snow.
A pained grunt sounded from behind me; snatching my attention from the fallen brute. My blood ran cold as I saw Krystal wasn't faring that well, either. The swirling aqua of her staff's energy shield flashed a brilliant purple for a split second as the Sharpclaw's blade bounced off it; she had also been knocked to the ground. The brute's shield had been tossed to the side at some point; fist-sized, charred holes punched through it. Its back was to me; apparently unaware of his comrade's fate. Another thought came to mind; would my tactic work a second time?
I got to my feet, clenching my teeth as I brought the big revolver up to a firing position. I projected another thought towards her as I settled the sights on the back of the Sharpclaw's leg. 'Keep that shield up! I'm going to cut his legs out from under him!' The Model 29 roared again; the second Sharpclaw's leg folding underneath him like a house of cards. A furious bellow sounded from the massive Saurian as he lost his grip on his sword.
The shimmering aqua of Krystal's shield dropped, accompanied by three thunderclaps; I was momentarily confused until I realized that she had opted to add to the gunfire. The Sharpclaw collapsed backwards as it was struck in the head; ending the threat. The vixen lay in the snow; her staff in one hand and my Taurus in the other. She glanced to me, relief apparent in her emerald eyes as she gasped for breath.
I reached her in a moment, sliding the Model 29 back into its holster; reminding myself that I needed to top it up before we moved on. My side and back ached with the effort; I felt like I had been hit with a battering ram but it didn't stop me. She had holstered her own revolver by the time I reached her; I reached down and helped her stand. Instead she fell against me, her warms winding around my waist as she trembled; the rise and fall of her chest deep and rapid. "Gods," she gasped, "I'm glad… you are safe…"
"You too, foxy," I responded by holding onto her as she regained her breath; a slightly glassy look in her eyes. I wasn't sure how long we stayed there, but I was welcome for the artificial warmth of her flightsuit. I should have brought my duster; its wool lining would have helped with the chill and I was sorely tempted to retrieve it. "That was far too close."
"What did you… do?" she asked as she glanced up at me, her eyes starting to regain some of their clarity and focus.
I reached around and placed one of her hands on the holstered Smith. "To paraphrase Eastwood," I quipped, "they weren't feeling lucky. Are you okay? You're shaking and breathing hard."
Krystal nodded as she continued to cling to me, her warmth starting to negate a fair amount of the cold. "I need… a few moments, che. That was a hard fight," she paused another moment. "We need to free… the Snowhorn."
"Let's go do that," I offered, leading her towards their encampment. "It was a hard fight, but we made it. I'm probably going to feel it in the morning, though."
"You and me both," Krystal mused, a sense of relief flowing into her voice. "Hopefully this was the majority of the Sharpclaw forces in the area." Time would tell if that was the case.