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

confused. “Which one is Soledad?”

“The angry mechanic.” I nod after Jagr and Soledad.

“You'll leave me here with her?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, dear.”

Hildr turns to me. “Do we have to bring him? Priests are bad luck.”

The young priest takes the chance and rubs his face against Hildr's boobs.

“What the fuck?” She headbutts him. The priest screams in pain with his hands over his face.

Hildr pushes to her feet under the low ceiling. “Don't touch me, priest.” Her voice defies any argument. The little man nods and I can see tears in his eyes. Poor man. I would have done the same thing. It would have been worth the pain.

He gives a sniffle and tries to unbuckle from the seat and fails. “How do you get out of these things?” He tries hard to keep his voice from cracking.

I sigh and go back. “Push this green button in the middle that says release.” I push the release button, and the bar rises with a hiss of compressed air.

Hildr gives the little man a look of utter contempt.

“Oh, how clever.”

The priest pushes to his feet and rubs his nose. There's a trickle of blood, and he smears it over his cheek with his knuckles. Then he brushes down his long brown gown.

“Pardon my manners. We've had a poor start.”

His voice is almost back under control. It looks like his nose is not broken. Hildr must have a soft spot for small humans.

He sticks out one hand. “We haven't been properly introduced. My name is brother Bailey Rivera, at your service.” I grab his hand. It's soft, limp, and clammy.

“I'm Asher Perez, and I suppose you know Finn and the others?”

“Yes, everyone knows the Jarl's family. I'm sorry about your father, Thorfinn. And your husband, lady Hildr.”

A look of actual sympathy renders his face almost likeable. “And I'm sorry for the …” He gestures at Hildr's chest.

“Accepted. But if you do that again, I will gut you and throw your still living carcass to the garms.” Rivera swallows and nods and Hildr heads for the cargo bay. When she bends over to go through the door, Rivera's eyes lock on her ass. Damn it. Are all priests like this? I need to watch him. She will not be as gentle with him next time.

“So, priest, are you coming or not?” I follow the others to the cargo bay.

“I'm coming. Definitely. Absolutely.”

“Rivera?”

“Yes, Asher?”

“Shut up.”

“Yes. Right. Um.”

I groan.

He shuts up.

The Ship That Was Lost

Back in the cargo bay, Jagr and Soledad have opened the crates. They are filled to the brim with weapons, and Soledad looks happy like a kid at a Christmas party. There's nothing childlike about the way she strokes the well-oiled hardware. I've never wanted to be an assault rifle before, but now I do. She catches me leering and gives me the finger. I blow her a kiss.

I push the priest in front of me and clap him on the back.

“Girls, this is brother Rivera. Your contact. Brother Rivera, meet Jagr and Soledad.”

The priest studies the women with round eyes.

“I would stay away from them if I were you,” I whisper to him out of the corner of my mouth.

“Yes, yes, of course.” He wipes his long fingers down his face but can't tear his eyes away from the women. Soledad snaps her teeth at him, and he inches behind me for protection.

“Thanks for joining us, Perez.” Jagr throws the priest an anorak. She carries a heavy Nishin assault rifle. There's a thermal imager on her head. Smart move. If there's anything with a pulse out there in the ice, it will stand out like a fake tit against the freezing environment.

Soledad looks unhappy to stay behind and fix the ship.

“Anything good left for us?” I ask.

“Rifles. Guns.” She points out the crates, one by one. “Grenades. Heavy machine gun.”

Finn grunts with excitement.

“Goggles and stuff.”

Finn grunts again. Not with excitement this time.

We gear up. I go for my favourite Aitchenkai assault rifle and lots of spare magazines. 'You can never have too much ammo', as my mother used to say. Fat load of good it did her, when the Terrans came for us. But it's still excellent advice.

Finn takes the heavy machine gun and slings several belts of ammunition over his shoulders. Hildr picks up another Nishin assault rifle. It's an enormous weapon, but it looks like a toy in her hands.

Soledad turns to Skallagrim. “You want anything?”

He pats the sword at his side. “No. I have Windsong. I'm good.”

A man who names his sword is a man I can relate to.

Soledad shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

Then she hands Jagr a heavy black backpack. “Here. Primed and ready.”

“Thanks, Pip.” Jagr slings it across one shoulder and glares at us. “Ready?”

Everyone nods.

“Um …” Rivera raises his hand.

“What now?” Jagr asks.

“I don't have a gun.”

“Do you know how to shoot a gun?”

“You aim and you shoot.” He gestures something that could kindly be interpreted as a man shooting a gun. It could also be a priest handing out the last rites.

Jagr looks at Soledad, who smirks. “Give the man a gun, Jagr.”

“All right, but remember to point it away from yourself, and us, at all times.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Rivera is almost bouncing with excitement at the prospect of getting his first gun. I can't even recall the first time I held one. I guess that says a lot about my childhood.

Jagr picks up the smallest handgun she can find. She ejects the magazine, making sure there's no bullet in the chamber. Then she reinserts the magazine, checks the safety is on, and hands it over, stock first. The priest takes it and weighs it in his palm with surprise. “It's so heavy.”

“It's the smallest one we have. Take it or leave it.”

Braden comes into the cargo bay as Soledad shows Rivera how to operate the gun. Braden has a bad limp, and I can see she's still in pain.

“Oh, you're giving him a gun. That's so sweet.” She beams at the priest.

He blushes and puts the weapon in a deep pocket