Maximum Ice by Kay Kenyon Read Free Book Online Page A

small thing compared to the higher calling of her order. It must not divert her from her mission. Nothing could divert her. They were on the verge of the next world, the world of meaning, the world of—
    A thud came from the back of the sanctuary. She turned her head a fraction, signaling that an attendant could come forward.
    Hurrying to her side, an attendant said, “Sister Verna. She fainted.”
    Sister Verna was old, arthritic. “Give her some water.”
    “Yes, Reverend Mother.”
    “And have her stand an extra hour.”

CHAPTER THREE
—l—
    Zoya braced herself firmly on the shuttle access ramp, slick from blowing sand. She was weighed down with a satchel containing extra clothes, tube food, and a radio pack. A good supply of water was already loaded on the sled.
    Sand pelted her face from a gust of wind, harbinger of a storm. Not a good time to set out, but the sled driver, who gave his name as Wolf, could not be persuaded to wait. He stood by his sled, eyeing the shuttle and its gun ports uneasily. She hadn’t thought before how daunting the shuttle was, its metal bulk bristling with armaments.
    Behind her, Janos was muttering something.
    “Can’t hear you,” she told him.
    Janos leaned in, determined that she
would
hear. “Be in contact every day. We’ll monitor constantly. No hasty decisions. You’ll be directed by us.”
    By my captain, she thought. She said, “Of course, Janos,” giving him a rather fine smile of reassurance.
    “Forgive me if I’m skeptical,” he said.
    Skepticism she could handle. It was his hostility she’d rather do without. She felt sorry for Anatolly, with such a first mate. There was no end of trouble when an indecisive captain had an overbearing first mate. But Anatolly had surprised both of them by delivering his swift verdict that Zoya would be the one to go.
    So then, go she would. And judging by the expression on
    Wolf’s face, it could not be soon enough. He stomped his feet, ostensibly freeing them from snow—he called the crystal sand
snow
—but he was impatient to set off before the storm arrived in earnest.
    Hearing of the sand storm brewing, Janos had made one last run at the captain, arguing for delay, but the captain was in the head. Again. Zoya smiled at Anatolly’s ingenuity. But she wasn’t smiling over Janos. He urged delay, hoping for more time to dissuade Anatolly But time was precious, time was land— colony land—now falling to the advance of crystal. The People of the Road had no time to argue among themselves. But a selfish man, an ambitious man, always spent liberally on himself.
    It was a fact that she didn’t truly know this man. After all, only a few people now alive were around during her last awakening, and Janos Bertak had not been one of them. That, however, never stopped her from making snap judgments. It was all she ever had time for, anyway. She was used to awakening amid strangers, and taking their measure. But of course to a gypsy, only a nongypsy was ever a stranger…
    Janos stood next to her now, scowling. No smile, not even to say good-bye.
    There were not many men in Zoya’s considerable experience who could not at least be brought to smile with a little wheedling, but this Janos Bertak was one.
    She had to raise her voice in the freshening wind. “You misjudge me so, Janos. You hardly know me.”
    “Your reputation goes before you, Ship Mother.”
    “Ah, the race with one’s reputation is never won.” She loved the old sayings. They always carried more weight than new ones. “So embrace me for farewell, Janos Bertak.”
    He hugged her with all the warmth of an automatic seat restraint, pressing her head against his neck, pinching her ear where the translator lex nested.
    It was time to board the sled. She was leaving behind the confines of Ship life and the close company of her people. Her children, so she felt. It was a momentous thing, yet she was eager to go. Three of her people lay in shrouds in that shuttle, and