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

Tyrus barks. “What's in there?”

“Easy there, mister. I'll come to that.”

I tap the button labelled Opinn on the inner door and raise the Aitchenkai as it cracks open.

Inside is a tunnel, ten metres wide, walls slanted slightly inward to meet the ceiling five metres above. Light-strips recessed into the rock walls provide ample lighting. Hypercarbon beams are spaced at regular intervals to support the ceiling. The tunnel slopes downwards and curves slowly to the left out of sight.

Chanting voices echo from somewhere far below.

Goliaths. A fuckload of them.

“Guys. Get in here. Now.”

“What is it, Perez? Have you got company?”

“Not per se. Get your asses in here.”

A minute later the others stand around me, helmets still on.

“Come on. The air is fine,” I say, and take a deep breath to show them how fine it is.

It's not the best air I've breathed, but it's a lot better than the recycled farts of my suit.

Hildr is first to tear off her helmet and fill her chest with air.

There's no mistaking her pleasure as she sighs with relief.

“By Odin, that felt good.”

The others follow suit — if you'll pardon the pun. Last to remove his helmet is Tyrus. The bastard waits for dramatic effect.

His helmet comes off. He stands with his eyes closed and takes a careful breath. He does not look at all like I expected. I imagined him to be your standard army grunt, with a square jaw and crewcut blonde hair, but he looks like a vagrant, with hollow cheeks and tanned, weather-worn skin. His long reddish-brown hair is greasy, with a matching beard that was well-trimmed three months ago. There's something uncannily familiar about him, but I can't figure out what. Then he opens his eyes.

They are an eerie shade of light blue. Almost iridescent. Like my own.

His eyes narrow. “What?”

There's a deadly glint in his eyes like he's trying to figure out the easiest way to kill me. He's a dangerous man.

But so am I.

“Nothing.”

I glare at Jagr and mouth “Is he…?”

She nods. Fuck me. That explains how he got past me on Utopia. He's one of the Cherubim. But how? I thought they were all killed.

“Solana?” I mouth to Jagr.

The one who got away.

It has to be him. I hope the General doesn't find out.

Jagr waves me on and mouths “Later”.

Tyrus waves for me to move deeper into the tunnel. “After you, Perez.”

“No, after you.” I wave for Tyrus to take the lead.

“I insist.” The steel in his voice implies it's not a courtesy.

“Whatever.” I move down the inclined tunnel, following the inside wall to have cover if we run into company. This Tyrus guy watching my back is not a total amateur, and that gives me some comfort. I'm dying to hear Jagr explain how Amon Solana can be here. And why he calls himself something as ridiculous as Brandon Tyrus.

As we descend, the chanting grows louder.

“Perez, what are they saying?”

Why Tyrus thinks I might have a clue is beyond me. I pass the ball.

“Finn, what are they saying?”

He shakes his head. “Don't know.”

“Hildr?”

“They're using an ancient dialect. It's something about Odin. And then there's something about dismembering his enemies. I can't tell.”

“Well, there's your answer, Tyrus. Something about Odin and dismemberment.”

“That sounds bad.”

The prospect of dismemberment doesn't exactly fill my heart with joy either.

We continue down until we reach a level part of the tunnel. There's an armoured door with a thick porthole set deep into the inner wall. The tunnel continues beyond the platform.

“Perez. Check it,” Tyrus commands.

I'm inclined to refuse on general principle, but I'm curious about what's inside, and I sidle up to the window. Inside is a sizeable room, filled with what looks like starship cryo-pods. There are at least twenty of them.

“There's a cryo-chamber in there. A hundred credits say it's more zombies for the army. Any takers?”

There's no reply.

“I'll take your bet,” Rivera replies.

“All right, let's play.” Before anyone can stop me, I push the heavy lever on the door, and the thing cracks open. A cloud of vapour escapes as the door swings wide, lending the scene a melodramatic horror touch.

I slip in and sweep the room with my rifle, checking for targets. There are none. I approach a pod. Ice frosts the transparent cover, rendering it opaque. I sweep the ice away, expecting to find a bushy beard and an ugly mug.

Instead, I find a rather attractive woman.

A Goliath woman.

“Hm, that was unexpected. Rivera, I owe you a hundred.”

The priest leans into the room. “What's in there?”

“Give me a second.” I move to the next pod and swipe the ice away. Another woman. The next one is also a woman.

What the hell?

“Perez, what's in there?” Tyrus asks as he enters the room. He's got his rifle at the ready, aimed at the closest pod.

“Women. Goliath women.”

“What?” It's Hildr.

“See for yourself.” I wave her into the room.

She strides up to another pod and checks it. “A woman.”

Jagr checks another. “A woman here too.”

“Hang on a minute.” Soledad checks the medical readouts on one pod. “This one is pregnant.”

She moves over to the next pod. “This one too.”

“Same here,” Jagr confirms.

What the actual hell?

“Um. Mr Perez?” the priest says.

He stands on tiptoe to peer through the porthole of another door across the room. “Come and look at this.”

There's awe in his voice.

I walk over and push him aside. Beyond the door is a vast cylindrical space, falling away down into the darkness. Gantries cling to the rock walls, providing access to other levels, other rooms.

I open the door and step out on the gantry.

Vertigo assaults me when I look over the railing, but it's not the height that gets to me.

Twenty levels down, the gantries disappear into the darkness, and there must be fifty doors to a level. That's twenty thousand women.

The others step out behind me.

“Holy mother of God,” the priest whispers in awe.

“People, I think we have solved the old mystery of the missing Goliath women. They're right here. Twenty thousand of them. And they're all pregnant.”

The