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

“No fucking prayers.”

“Oh. All right. Right. May I say one myself?”

Jagr sighs. “Just do it in silence.”

Soledad turns to me. “Perez. Remind me why you had to bring the priest.”

“For luck. And I like him.”

“You seem to like many people.” There's venom in Soledad's voice, and even behind the visor, I can tell she's looking at Jagr.

Tyrus clears his throat.

“Right people, this is the plan.”

You're Standing On It

It's not much of a plan.

“We get down there, take a peek, get back out again and bounce a report to the Shiloh off your ship in orbit.”

“What?”

I can't believe my ears. “That is your cunning plan?”

“Yes.”

“Care to share any details? Like, how we get down there? That cave is at least a kilometre deep.”

“We jump.”

“Jump?”

“Yes. Jump. Got a problem with that, Perez?”

“No. But how do we get up again?”

“Improvise and adapt, soldier.”

“Won't they see us coming?”

“The fog will provide optical cover.”

“Ever heard of radar and IR sensors?”

“These suits have state-of-the-art stealth capabilities. They won't see us coming.”

“What if we land on someone?”

“We kill them.”

“What if someone spots us?”

“We kill them.”

“What if someone sounds the alarm?”

I check myself. “No, forget that. We kill them.”

I simulate writing a note. “Kill everyone …”

“What are you doing, Perez?” Tyrus asks.

“Taking notes. I don't want to miss any details of this intricate plan.”

“Are you trying to be funny, Perez?”

“Yes.”

“You're not doing a splendid job of it.”

“I try my best. That's what counts, right?”

“Fuck you, Perez. I've killed men for less.”

“So have I.”

Jagr steps between us. “Boys, let go of your hard-ons and keep your eyes on the fucking ball.”

I stare at Tyrus. The skull painted on his opaque visor shows nothing of his emotions. What I wouldn't give to punch his face in.

I take a deep breath and let it out again. It doesn't help one bit, but for the sake of the others, I let the matter be. “OK. It's a brilliant plan. Let's go.”

“Perez …” Jagr cautions.

“Fine. Whatever. You're in charge, Typhus.”

Silence from Tyrus.

Then he too lets it go. “Keep your eyes and ears open. If we're compromised, our top priority is to transmit as much intel to Crom on the Shiloh as we can before they get us. Everything else, including our survival, is optional. Are we clear?”

Jagr, Soledad and Finn nod. Even the priest nods.

Hildr snorts. “If we're compromised, I intend to take as many of those fuckers with me to Valhalla as I can. The Valkyries will have a busy night tonight.”

“Perez?” Jagr turns her faceplate towards me.

“Yeah, yeah, intel to Crom. Got it.”

The short suit raises one hand. “And what do I do?” There is an honest will to help in the priest's voice.

“You stay out of the way of the adults,” Jagr replies. “But feel free to pray. It can't hurt.”

“Thank you, ma'am.”

The priest's helmet bobs, like Jagr just assigned him a vitally important part of the mission. “I'm on it. Roger. Affirmative.”

I lay a hand on his shoulder. “Shut up, Rivera.”

Silence from the priest.

“Check your weapons.” Tyrus ejects the magazine from his weapon and verifies it's full. “We have limited ammunition, so if you need to shoot, make every bullet count.”

“Sir, yes, sir.” I eject my magazine for the umpteenth time to check it. It's still full and there's still an extra shell in the breach. I know that's not recommended operating procedure, but we're on a fucking sulphur moon, about to assault a secret Goliath starbase. Safety is not an issue.

The priest pings me on my private channel. He stands uncomfortably close in the fog.

“Are you afraid, Asher?” He tries to sound all priestly, but the crack in his voice betrays him.

I make a decent job of sounding calmer than I am. “Afraid of what, Rivera?”

“Dying. Down there.” His yearning for comfort is heartbreaking.

“Nah. People forget they were dead for billions of years before they ever lived. And that wasn't so bad, was it? No, I'm not afraid to die. Are you?”

“I'm terrified.”

“Stay close to me and you'll be fine.” I whack his shoulder with the magazine to pack the cartridges tight. Hey everyone, touch the priest for holy bullets. The little man almost falls over.

The open channel crackles again. “Any questions before we jump?” Tyrus' helmet pans the team.

The others shake their heads. Tyrus glares at me. “Perez?”

“Nope.” I slap the magazine in. “Let's go.”

* * *

I've done many stupid things in my life.

Jumping headfirst into a Goliath stronghold — twice — is right there in the top five.

Tyrus goes first over the edge. Say what you will about the guy, but he leads by example. Not a good example, but still.

Next is Jagr, Soledad and the priest. Wagner and Hildr go next, and I go last.

The others have already disappeared in the mist when I plunge over the edge. The clouds come up to meet me, and once more, the suit takes over and turns me into a human arrowhead, plunging headfirst into the depths. Numbers representing altitude tear by on my helmet HUD. Two hundred metres from the bottom, lights become visible through the thick fog. The suit goes into wingsuit mode to brake my descent. Ten metres off the ground I still can't see shit, but the suit has me covered. It flips feet down and goes into a crouching position. I hit with the force of a head-on collision, but the suit absorbs most of the force. It still hurts like hell.

Fuck, that was bad. I raise the Aitchenkai to my shoulder and survey my surroundings. It's dark. There are lights out there in the fog, but they are too far away to provide any actual illumination. The silhouettes of two armoured suits lurk to my right, one dead ahead. I scramble towards the closest one and patch in. The HUD informs me it's Soledad. Shit.

“Hey, Soledad.”

“Glad you could make it.” She's not overjoyed to see me.

My HUD lights up as Jagr and Hildr plug in.

“Any signs of contact?” Jagr's voice is distorted. Must be radiation interfering with our comms.

“None,” Soledad and