Lost Vikings by JJ Wolficus (good summer reads txt) 📗

's face cracked and crumbled away,

crashing to the ground like a combination of an avalanche and a waterfall. Erik could feel 18

the impact through the viking's insulation, rumbling like thunder that might never end. As

the ice landed, it shattered and rol ed up into the sky, forming a gigantic cloud that roiled

out from the ridge like a tidal wave of snow.

"Dammit!" Varg said. "Brace yourselves!"

Erik had already planted his viking's feet square on the ice to deal with the recoil from

his Gatling cannons. He didn't think the oncoming crush of snow could be much worse. As

soon as it smacked into him, he realized how wrong he was.

The snow wasn't the thin, stirred-up powder that obstructed his vision when he and the

rest of the vikings strode across the land. This was solid, heavy stuff, shards of ice that had

stood there since the planet had refrozen after the protoss purification. It slammed into

him like a tank and drove him backward, burying him deeper with every centimeter he

gave.

At first Erik fought hard, struggling to stay upright, but he soon realized it was pointless.

He raised the walker's Gatling-gun arms and did his best to ride the rising wave of snow. It

swept his viking off its feet, and for a moment he felt as if the machine were treading water

backward in a tsunami.

Then everything went white. And then it went black.

An avalanche hitting you was nature doing its level best to murder you. The noise—a

low rumble like thunder from the ground—tumbled through him hard and fast until it felt

as if it had absorbed him, as if he'd become a part of it. Although he could breathe just fine

inside the viking, the avalanche's speed and force rattled him against his restraints and

knocked the wind from him. He was sure he was aboutto die, and if it was going to happen,

he hoped it would be quick. At least then, the sheer terror of the instant would be over and

he'd be spared having to endure it any longer. 19

Employing his fear as a spur, Erik struggled to make the viking swim toward the surface

of the avalanche, using its pumping legs and flailing weaponry to keep the craft upright as

best as he could. After a moment, the force of the rol ing snow ripped the bucking controls

away from him and snatched his fate from his hands. As the viking spun down to a stop

inside a massive crumble of ice, rock, and snow, the noise abated, and he realized he was

alive—and stuck good.

Sounds of panic burst at Erik over the comm system. He couldn't make out any of the

words, not for sure. He just knew that the people he'd come here with were in a great deal

of trouble, and he couldn't do a thing to help them.

"Report!" Varg said. He might have been saying it for a while. "Shelve that damn

squealing and report!"

The immediate danger over, Erik felt new dread over his situation threaten to reach up

and swallow him. Hearing the officer's strong, stolid voice gave him a lifeline to hang on to.

"Here!" Erik said.

"Present," said Olaf.

"Yo!" said Baleog.

No one else responded.

"Scorch?" Varg said. "Dammit! Scorch?"

Nothing.

Then her voice came over the comm, soft and weak but clear. "I'm, ah…" she said. "Um,

here."

"Anyone got a visual on her?" 20

"I don't got any visual at al ," said Baleog. "I'm buried up over my head."

"I'm afraid I've fal en over," said Olaf with a pained grunt.

Erik peered out through his windshield and saw little but a dim gray. He supposed that

was a good thing. If he were buried deep, it would be nothing but utter blackness. The fact

that he could see anything meant he wasn't too far beneath the avalanche's surface, or so

he hoped.

"No visuals here." He tried to move his viking's arms. His Gatling cannons had been so

hot that he wondered if they had melted any snow that came near them. Instead, it felt as if

they'd been encased in blocks of flash-frozen ice. "Can't move my guns either."

"Don't panic," Varg said. "We're not licked yet."

"Sure," said Baleog. "As long as your name's not Scorch."

"Not helping." Varg hesitated for a moment. "Anyone got mode-transformation controls

operational?"

Erik checked his HUD. The diagnostics section glowed green across the board, except

for his guns, which were highlighted in bright yel ow. "I'm good," he said.

"Me too," said Baleog. "My rig's left leg's shattered, but my cockpit's still intact."

"Affirmative," said Olaf. "My cockpit has maintained integrity as wel . I lost one of my cannons, though. A rock clipped it clean off."

"Fire those engines up," Varg said. "Activating your vertical-lift jets ought to generate enough heat to bust you loose."

"How about you?" asked Baleog. 21

The major grunted. "I'm in one piece, but the avalanche spun me upside down. I fire up

my engines, and I'll go in the wrong direction. Might be able to break free, though, if you

three can loosen things up for me."

"We can manage that, right?" said Erik. "We've already accomplished our mission,

which should give us plenty of time. And we did a lot more than just distract the zerg. That

avalanche should have crushed them too. The clock's on our side."

Baleog let loose a sharp, bitter laugh. "You don't know much about the zerg, do you?"

Erik, who had been pretty thril ed about the avalanche until he was caught up in it, felt

his heart sink. "How could anything have survived that?"

Varg coughed a weak laugh. Erik wondered if the man was hurt worse than he wanted

to let on.

"The zerg are burrowers, kid," Varg said. "As long as that icefal didn't crush them flat, they have everything they need to dig themselves out of it."

"Must have got some of them, though," Baleog said. As gruff as he sounded, Erik

detected a note of fear lacing his words. "Right?"

"Sure," Varg said. "Maybe. But al of them? Not a chance. They're out there, and they're pissed."

"Pissed and looking for revenge." Olaf's voice sounded smal for a man as large as he

was.

Varg only grunted at that.

Erik started to activate his viking's fighter mode as fast as he could.