Under A Winter Sun by Johan Dahlgren (ink ebook reader txt) 📕

I wanted to take this moment to welcome you personally. It's an honour to have you aboard, dame Jagr.” He bows his head.

Dame Jagr?

“It's an honour to be here, star marshal. I believe my employers have informed you of our mission?”

“They have, and we're at your command.”

Sweet. I've always wanted a Terran battleship at my command.

“Thank you. Let's get this thing moving. Where can we strap down?”

“Commander Hardigan will show you to your cabins. The journey will take two days, with acceleration breaks every twelve hours. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a ship to sail across the oceans of space.”

Two days? On a regular shuttle, the journey to Nifelheim would take months. This will be one uncomfortable ride.

“Of course, star marshal. Do your thing.”

Crom salutes Jagr, and she touches two fingers to her forehead in something that could be a salute. It could also be her miming blowing her brains out with an imaginary gun.

Crom either doesn't notice, or he is too polite to fuss.

“If you'll follow me, I will take you to your cabins.”

Hardigan kicks off towards one of the gloomy passages leading from the bridge.

“Make haste, we launch in seven minutes.”

Hardigan leads us past a lot of doors. One door is open and leads to what appears to be an officers' mess.

“These are the officers' quarters. You are located over here.” We reach the end of the officers' passage where three cabin doors slide open as we approach, one to each side, and a larger door ahead.

“There are two bunks in each cabin, one in the suite.” He indicates the larger door.

“Sleeping arrangements are up to you. Strap down. We're about to begin countdown.”

Hardigan snaps a quick salute and floats back down the passageway.

Jagr turns to us. “You heard the man. The clock is ticking. Braden, you're in here.” She points to one of the smaller doors with her thumb.

“Yay.” Braden makes the V-sign and pushes the button to open her door. “Single room. The boss likes me.”

“Perez, you bunk with Soledad.” Jagr points to the other small door.

Sweet.

“All right.” I nod. “But keep your hands to yourself, Soledad.”

“You've got a high opinion of yourself, Perez.” She gives a half-smile as we tow our gear into the little cabin.

“I'm a swell guy.” As we enter, muted spotlights turn on in the ceiling.

“Cut the crap you two, and strap down.”

Jagr is not one for idle chit-chat. She hovers in our doorway, holding on to the door frame.

“I don't want any of you to break a leg or crack your skull because you didn't strap down properly. That goes for you too, Perez. It would be hard to explain to the crew why we show no trace of the injuries later. Remember, this is a low-profile job. We go to Nifelheim, locate our guy, find out what he has found and get him out. Nice and smooth.”

“You don't even believe that yourself, Jagr,” Soledad scoffs as she packs her gear into a locker in the wall. She has an awful lot of guns in her bags. And knives. And things even I find hard to identify.

“Nope. But that's our plan.”

She looks at her wrist console. “Two minutes, people. Strap down.”

Our cabin is small and dark, with a foldaway bunk bed and two narrow closets with matching cupboards set into the walls. A foldaway toilet and a display screen are sunk into the wall. That's it.

Spaceflight is all about mass versus thrust, and vast rooms with lots of furniture equal more mass, equals less thrust. It's basic maths. It's also depressing. I hope I won't go crazy cooped up in here for two days.

“The bottom bunk is mine.” Soledad closes her storage locker and floats into the lower bed. She stuffs a mean-looking gun under her pillow. My kind of girl.

“Fine with me.” I stow my kit in the other locker. “I like to be on top.”

“Hilarious.”

The screen lights up to display a countdown. One minute to blast off.

A brief glitch distorts the image before the countdown resumes. Even state-of-the-art battleships are not safe from the recent glitches. That's a comforting thought.

“Here we go again,” Aeryn says.

“Another data drop?”

“Yes. Do you still believe it's a coincidence?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Did you say something, Perez?” Soledad squints at me.

“Nope, just mumbling to myself.” No need to let them know about Aeryn. I like to keep an edge.

“Well, it's time to go.”

Soledad pulls herself down into her crash seat and pulls the straps tight. “See you later, Perez.”

“Later, Soledad.” I push off from the floor and strap down in the top bunk. As soon as I'm tucked in, a horn blares five times over the intercom. We're ready to fire the big ones.

I hate the next part.

A woman's voice begins a countdown from ten. The needles of the couch's drug dispensing system pierce my skin in sharp little pinpricks. An icy wave rushes through my body as they deliver their sedative pharmaceutical cocktail into my bloodstream. We're on a tight schedule and there will be no time for idle drifting between planets. This will be a hard-G burn-and-brake manoeuvre to cut travel time as much as possible without killing the crew and passengers. The Shiloh could make the trip in a day, but we would all be dead from the unforgiving acceleration and deceleration.

At least the humans onboard would be dead. We immortals might fare better, but I'm not dying to try it. I'm grateful for the drugs.

A rumble vibrates through the ship.

“Perez?” Soledad calls from the bunk below me.

“What?”

“Stop playing with yourself.”

My eloquent response drowns in the noise and vibrations from the booster engines. The titanic warship flexes her muscles and ponderously sets off into the vastness of space.

We're going to Nifelheim, the most dangerous planet in the system, but here I am, happy for the first time in years.

I'm on an adventure with three hot women, I'm going to see Finn again, and there's a mystery looming somewhere out there.

This should be fun.

The primary engines ignite, and the world becomes a