Under A Winter Sun Johan Dahlgren (digital e reader .txt) 📖

The Sundowner rumbles as the wing-mounted Gatling guns fire on targets on the ground.

“Are you fucking crazy, Jagr?” I grab her by the shoulders. “They will shoot us down quicker than you can say 'more mechanised sentries'.”

“I don't care. They will pay for what they did. We'll nuke the fuckers.”

“What? We've got nukes on this thing now?”

“Yes, and we're fucking using them.”

“Shit.” This is not good. “If you do that, you will start a fucking war between Terra and Nifelheim.”

“I said, I don't care.” Her face is almost unrecognisable with rage.

I pause.

“Who was your operative? He was no mere agent, was he?”

“No. It was his genes they spliced in to create generation three. Then he stayed to train us.” She blinks at me with such pain in her eyes even I get a lump in my throat. “He was the closest thing we've ever had to a father. And they killed him and put his head on a rusty fucking spear.”

She glares at Wagner, Hildr and Skallagrim as if they had something to do with it. Wagner doesn't even notice. He's too busy bleeding, propped up in a seat with the priest fussing over his wounds. Hildr and Skallagrim sit across the aisle, murmuring quietly and looking suspiciously at us.

“We will never make it out alive if we do this, Jagr. We will all die. Then your man will have died for nothing. And no one will know what happened here.”

The intercom crackles. “Hold on people, we've got incoming.”

The Sundowner bucks like a wild horse as something explodes outside the ship. The Goliaths must have got their surface-to-air missiles working. Something starts rattling uncomfortably under the deck.

“Shit, there goes an engine,” Braden calls over the intercom.

“Jagr, abort.” I do not intend to die here because she developed a death wish. “Live to fight another day. We'll make them pay, I promise, but not now. Think of your team, Jagr.”

She looks at Soledad. Then she turns back. “All right. You're right. Braden, abort. Take us the fuck out of here. You have the coordinates.”

“Aye aye, captain,” comes the chirpy acknowledgement from the cockpit. It sounds like Braden too is pleased not to have to die today.

The ship tips over the other way as we turn away from the hall, and I glance at the screens. A column of Sentinels accompanied by heavily armed snow vehicles and light tanks stream out of the gate, hot on our trail.

“We've got company,” I call.

“They'll never catch us.”

Jagr has recovered some of her old steely self. “Right, Braden?”

“Don't you worry, Mr P,” Braden confirms over the speakers. “They'll never catch little Sunny. Not with me at the helm.”

That somehow reassures me.

I guide Jagr to an empty couch and Soledad drops into the seat next to her. “Relax. We'll get them.” Soledad has a cloth-covered bundle on her lap. It smells fishy. Better leave them alone to grieve.

I duck to go through the door to the cockpit, and Jagr calls out to me.

“Perez.”

“What?” I turn back.

“Thanks.”

“No worries.” I tap two fingers to my forehead in a mock salute. “We'll get them. I promise.”

She smiles. Then she points at the priest. “Who's he?”

“I think I found your contact.”

“Oh, good.” She looks far from delighted. “What do we do with him?”

“Don't ask me. He's your contact.” I turn to go.

“Perez?”

I turn back. “Yes?”

“I know Finn is your friend, but that stunt you pulled back there almost got us killed.”

“Noted, boss, but he's the only family I have. And you lost us that engine going back in.”

“Point taken. But do that again and I will kill you myself.”

“Got you.”

I leave them and enter the short passageway to the cockpit.

Back in the troop bay, our new best friend the priest addresses Jagr. “Can I help you, my child?”

“Stay the fuck away from me, priest.”

I grin.

“Is that a fucking priest?” Soledad screams. “Who let a fucking priest on my ship?”

“Oh, dear me,” the priest yelps. My grin grows wider.

“My ship”, comes Braden over the speakers.

“The last time I checked, this was my ship,” Jagr breaks in. They all ignore her.

“Did you bring the priest, Jagr?” Soledad screams. She must have a thing with priests.

“No, that was Perez.”

I enter the cockpit and the ear-bleedingly loud music shuts out the screaming. Any coherent thought is impossible to hold in this noise, and I can understand why Braden likes it. I push the door control button and it hisses shut behind me. Braden flicks a wrist gesture, and the music cuts out.

“Hey, Mr P.” She flashes me a quick smile before she turns back to her controls. “What the hell happened back there at the hall?”

“There's a new sheriff in town.”

I get into the co-pilot's seat and strap down. “Eirik killed his father and took the throne.”

“Woah.”

“Yeah. We've got Finn, a priest and two other Goliaths with us.”

“That explains the extra weight. I thought she handled a little sluggish.”

I scan the gauges and readouts in the cockpit, trying to find a status report or something, but I only get confused.

“How are things on your end, Braden? Is the ship holding together?”

“We lost an engine going back in, and another is hanging on by a hair. The hull is breached in a dozen places, so we can't space before we fix that. And we're bleeding fuel like fucking crazy. Soledad will take care of it. She always does.”

It sounds like she is trying to convince herself. The damage must be worse than she lets on. The primary screens show the icy wastes of Nifelheim tearing past below us. A rearward-facing camera zooms in to show the squadron of tanks pursuing us. They rumble along a concrete road, covered in blowing snow.

No worries. We're out of range. “Where are we going?”

“No idea. Jagr sent me some random coordinates out in the ice. All I know is that it's somewhere far away from those fucking mechs and that's good enough for me. You were right, P. Those things are a bitch to kill.”

“Told you so.”

“Did you