[Republic Commando] - 03(33)

Ordo checked the thickness of the ice. “Nearly there. At least it’s warm in here.”

“I’m sorry, son. Getting you into this.”

“Good training. Never done this before.”

“You should be out on the town with your girl at your age, not…”

“I don’t feel right about using Besany to spy for us.”

It was right out of the blue. Ordo did that from time to time, revealing what was on his mind and making Skirata realize he didn’t know everything about him, not even now. He must have been chewing it over while he slogged away at the ice.

“Mereel didn’t force her, son. She knows the score.”

“I meant that I wasn’t expecting to feel bad about it.”

So again, Skirata knew even less about Ordo than he thought. He decided not to comment and just let the lad ramble on, but Ordo went quiet again and more lumps of dirty, gritty ice fell out onto the deck as the cutter whined. He’d had his say.

The Republic uses you, son, but now we ‘re using the Republic. Can ‘t let an asset like Besany Wennen go to waste.

A breath of burning cold air on his face and a shout from

Ordo snapped Skirata out of an exhausted trance, and somehow his adrenaline got him back on his feet.

“We’re through. I see him.” There wasn’t enough room for both of them in the tube. Ordo hacked frantically at the rapidly enlarging hole. When he leaned back to reach for a fibercord line, Skirata could see a black shape that didn’t look like a man for a moment, but then he could make out part of the T-shaped visor of Vau’s helmet. “I’m cutting his packs free.”

The operation was now more like delivering a nerf calf. After much swearing and panting, Ordo backed out of the boarding tube, hauling Vau by a line around one shoulder. It sounded like he was dragging a coffin. Vau plopped onto the cargo bay deck in a heap, his armor so cold that it burned Skirata’s fingers as he eased off the man’s helmet.

Vau’s hard, gaunt face was almost blue. Skirata pushed his eyelids back to check his pupils: they reacted to the light. Humans survived low temperatures even when they looked dead, and Vau was definitely alive. Skirata mentally listed all the procedures he had to follow, like looking for a pulse, counting breaths, not rubbing extremities, and diverting warmer blood from the core. “Osik, Walon, you shabuir, don’t you dare go and die on me now…”

Vau’s head rolled and he mumbled back at Skirata. “Mird,” he said. “Mird …”

Skirata had gone after Vau at least twice in his life fully intending to kill him. His instinct, funny thing that it was, now focused him totally on saving the man. Ordo slithered backward out of the tube again, dragging Vau’s birgaan and a large bundle of plastoid sheeting that chinked and clacked.

“Rescue breathing, Kal’buir” he panted. The effort had even taken its toll on Ordo. He grabbed Vau and half dragged, half carried him into the medbay, heaving him onto the bunk. Skirata trailed behind with the bags. “I know your cussing can generate a few kilowatts of heat, but it’s not reaching his lungs.”

“He’s conscious and breathing. No CPR.”

“Okay. Dry. He’s dry.” Wet clothing leached the heat fast. “The suit held up.”

Skirata pulled off Vau’s armor and grabbed whatever he could find from the locker to wrap him up. His fingers showed no signs of frostbite: corpse-cold, but still soft. That was something. “Let Mird out.”

Mird shot out of the store compartment and nearly knocked Skirata over. The animal was good and warm. If anyone was going to snuggle up to Vau and transfer heat, Mird was the best choice. Ordo watched the strill flop onto its master with delighted little squeals and rumbles, slobbering over his face. Ordo seemed to find it suddenly funny.

“Thanks, Mird,” he said. “You saved us both from a fate worse than death. Carry on, that strill.” He turned to Skirata. “It’s time to seal up and get out of here.”

“How are you going to break the surface ice?”

Ordo shrugged. “Torpedo.”

“Well, the laser didn’t attract any unwelcome attention, so go for it, son. I’ll get some hot liquid into Vau.”

“Secure him in the bunk, because we’re going to be banging out of here at quite an angle. You might want to hold off the hot liquid until we’re stable again.”

Ordo never exaggerated. When he said quite an angle, he probably meant vertical. A few moments after the shock of an exploding torpedo bounced back at them, everything they hadn’t had time to stow securely went sliding to the bulkheads and Mird howled, claws nailed deep into the bunk housing. Aay’han leveled out. The loose objects thudded back down on the deck.