The sun hungat the horizon, casting the world in an eerie purple twilight as the snowcat crested the final ridge and came to a halt, the two now-empty fuel drums rattling hollowly in the cargo hold.
Elliot should have been relieved at the sight of Thwaites Station after eight straight hours of driving through a frozen wasteland. Instead, dread coiled low in his stomach.
Something was wrong.
Dark figures moved around the perimeter—a dozen that he could count even from this distance, their movements crisp, coordinated, disciplined.
“Shit,” Rue whispered beside him, her breath fogging in the cold air. The cab’s heater had been unreliable at best for the entire ride and had completely fizzled out a few miles back. “That’s a full tactical team. Is it Praetorian?”
He killed the engine and grabbed the binoculars he’d taken from Takahe Station. The men wore black parkas with no insignia and black masks—classic Praetorian operational procedure. They carried modified M4s with thermal scopes, the kind of hardware you didn’t get from standard militarysuppliers. Two men at the main entrance wore sidearms in shoulder holsters over their jackets—officers, probably. The setup was familiar from the briefings his cousin Griffin had shared about Praetorian’s field protocols.
“Yeah, it’s them,” he confirmed. “Looks like they’ve locked down all the obvious entry points.”
“We’re too late.” She slammed her palm against the dashboard. “Dammit! They’re going to do the same thing they did at Takahe, aren’t they? Lock everyone inside until whatever that... thing is spreads.”
Elliot lowered the binoculars, his mind racing through scenarios, calculating odds, plotting vectors. The strategy part of his brain was working overtime, but so was the part that registered how Rue’s hands trembled slightly, how she kept her injured ankle carefully positioned to minimize pain. Her face was drawn with exhaustion, the bruise on her cheek darkening to a deep purple that matched the Antarctic twilight.
“We have options,” he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt.
Rue gave him a sideways look. “Do we, though? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like we’re screwed six ways from Sunday.”
“We could try to make it back to Takahe and keep trying to contact my family,” he offered, knowing it was a weak suggestion even as he said it.
She shook her head. “We’ve got less than a quarter tank, and we used the last of the fuel in those drums last time we stopped. We’d never make it.”
Yeah, he knew that, but the only other option he saw required them to walk into the lion’s den, and he hated the thought of it. He didn’t want to put Rue in any more danger than she was already in.
But they couldn’t stay outside all night, either. They’d freeze. Rue was already shivering, even wrapped up in a sleeping bag, and he was so cold, he was afraid to see what his hands looked like under his gloves.
He set the binoculars down and studied the station layout, remembering the schematic he’d memorized before they’d left New York. “There’s a maintenance access on the east side. It’s how they bring in equipment too large for the main doors. Might not be as heavily guarded.”
Rue leaned forward, squinting through the windshield. “Can you see it from here?”
“No, it’s on the far side.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, weighing risks against necessities. “If we take the snowcat any closer, they’ll spot us for sure.”
She shrugged the sleeping bag off her shoulders. “So we go on foot.”
Elliot caught her wrist. “Rue, your ankle?—”
“Is fine.” She yanked her hand away. “Besides, do you see another option? We can’t go back, can’t stay here, and I’m not leaving those people in there to die. They’re my responsibility.”
The stubborn set of her jaw told him arguing would be pointless. And she was right. There was no real choice here.
“Okay,” he conceded. “But we take it slow and careful. I don’t care how many mountains you’ve climbed on a broken ankle—you stay close to me.”
To his surprise, she didn’t argue. She just nodded once, her eyes meeting his with the kind of silent agreement that went beyond words. They were in this together, whatever “this” was.
They abandoned the snowcat in the lee of a large ice formation, close enough to return to if needed but far enough from the station to avoid immediate detection. The temperature had dropped with the sun, and the wind cut through their layers as they moved across the exposed terrain. Elliot kept them tothe shadows where possible, using rises in the landscape for cover, all too aware of how exposed they were against the white backdrop.
Rue moved with surprising grace despite her injury. She stumbled only once, and he caught her elbow, steadying her without comment. She didn’t pull away.
“This is where we’d be rappelling in if we were in an action movie,” she murmured as they paused behind a snow drift to survey the terrain ahead.
Despite everything, his lips quirked upward. “Sorry to disappoint. No dramatic helicopter rescue, either.”
“I’ll settle for not getting shot.” She shifted her weight off her bad ankle, her breath hitching slightly.
They waited for a patrol to pass before continuing their approach. As they drew closer, the massive bulk of Thwaites Station loomed against the twilight sky. Lights glowed from within, casting rectangular yellow bars across the snow through uncovered windows. Through one, Elliot caught a glimpse of movement, someone pacing back and forth.