Ice Baron (Ice Chronicles, Book One (science fiction romance)) (24 page)

Michael’s fingers swiftly moved
over the control board. “Answer my question first. Where are we going?”

“Zyra.”

“Zyra?” Anya repeated. “Why?”

“It’s closest to Onred’s
territory.” Tersely, Joshua said, “The report, Michael.”

“We intercepted garbled messages.
Onred must have expected our men. Five birds were shot down crossing the Altai mountains. Three pilots skyjumped onto the city. Two made it inside.” Michael spared
a backward glance for Anya. “Your family wasn’t there. Neither was Onred.”

“They weren’t?” This news came as
an unpleasant shock. “Were the men sure?”

“Positive. Pete broke into Onred’s
quarters and set up explosives. They got cornered, and the last we heard was
static. Satellite shows a big hole in Bogd.”

Anya swallowed back a horrified
gasp. She fisted her hands, trying to control her emotions. Pete was dead. Just
yesterday, he had been happy, teasing, and full of life. Now he was gone.

“They’re heroes,” Michael stated. “The
bomb destroyed Bogd’s heating units. The city is freezing. That’ll slow them
down.”

“Earlier, Onred ordered Belar to
nuke Omsk,” Joshua said. “Any way to trace his transmission?”

“Nope. Tried. The bastard’s smart.
He routed it through Bogd.”

Joshua fell silent.

“My family might still be alive.”
Anya brushed away welling tears for Pete, and clung to this small hope. “They
might still be with Onred.”

“Maybe,” Michael offered, but
Joshua remained silent.

Anya prayed again for her
siblings, as she’d repeatedly done over the last twenty-four hours. Where could
Onred be? And she offered a prayer for Pete, too. And for the rest of her
people, living in the freezing wasteland. What foul plan did Onred plan to
implement next? But the ones in immediate danger were her family, if they were
with Onred. They would bear the immediate brunt of his rage over losing Bogd.

Extracting her family from Onred’s
clutches had seemed like a monumental task from the start. Now it seemed impossible.
Where could Onred be hiding?

“How will we ever find them?” she
whispered.

The aircraft spun without warning,
and Michael’s white lasers drilled the sky. Black airbirds peeled east and
west. Blue birds followed one, and with a terse word, Michael pursued the
other. Within minutes, the black one fell in flames from the sky.

Michael spit, “Onred knows we
picked you up.”

“Wish we still had that hijacked
bird,” Anya said. “Maybe we could figure out how to listen in on their transmissions.”

“They change frequencies every ten
minutes.”

“It probably wouldn’t have helped,
anyway,” she said. “I think Richert sabotaged the system.”

“What?” Joshua said sharply.

Anya described Richert broadcast
while she’d flown the enemy ship. “His techs must have hacked into Altai’s communications
system.”

“Gives us hope,” Michael said
grimly. “Maybe
he’s
following their transmissions.”

“We need to contact him,” Joshua
said.

“How?” Anya wanted to know. “Do we
trust him enough to transmit to him over our secure channels?”

Michael barked out a laugh. “Not a
chance.”

“Onred will intercept if we use
the Alpha channel,” she pointed out.

“We can’t take that chance,”
Joshua agreed. “We’ll use our voice network. I’ll warn the commanders it’s no
longer secure. I’ll use your phone, Michael. Anya lifted it from your
apartment.”

She winced. “Sorry about your
door,” she said meekly.

“I won’t ask.” Humor laced Michael’s
rumble.

“I’ve got the code to one of
Richert’s frequencies. Hope it still works,” Joshua muttered.

“Put it on speaker when you get
through,” his brother advised.

Long moments passed, and then
Joshua said tersely, “Joshua Van Heisman.” Then, “Give me a line to Richert.”
Frustration deepened his next words. “Yesterday, man.
Now.
”

More silence, then Joshua said, “Richert.
Van Heisman.”

Static crackled. “You’re alive,”
came Richert’s brusque response.

“Thanks for Omsk.”

“Now do you trust me?”

When Joshua hesitated, the old man
coughed up a chuckle. “Lay your cards on the table, Van Heisman. Our plan still
a go?”

“Yes. Like we agreed after
breakfast.”

“Good. What else?”

“Extraction failed. Onred was
probably tipped off. He’s in hiding. Anya said your techs compromised the bird’s
communications system. Any intel to pass along?”

“Word is, Onred’s transmitting on
Alpha at nine hundred hours.” In two hours. “They’re scrambling frequencies almost
faster than we can keep up. Almost.” He gave a dry chuckle.

“We need to find Onred.”

“Position yourself as bait. Anya,
too. If he wants you bad enough, he’ll come get you.”

“Our deaths would serve you well.”
Humor edged Joshua’s dry tone.

“Who’s in command if I can’t talk
to you?”

“Birn, Ray, or Michael. Give us
one of Tarim’s secure channels, and I’ll pass those codes to them.”

Richert rattled off frequencies
and codes so fast Anya wondered how Joshua caught them all. However, his calm, “Got
it,” reassured her.

“Is this a secure phone?” Richert
demanded abruptly.

“Yes.”

“We’ll analyze Onred’s video and
pass on our findings to you.” He cleared his throat. “How’s your military
holding up?”

A crafty prodding for delicate
information.

Anya glanced over her shoulder and
met Joshua’s calm, amused gaze. Evenly, he replied, “We’re ready to fight.”

“Richert out.” The line went to
static.

Anya smiled. “Can’t blame him for
trying.”

“Convinces me we can’t trust him.”
Joshua switched channels and texted a message—to his commanders, she guessed.

Anya faced forward again. She wasn’t
sure what to think about her cunning uncle. Joshua was probably right. However,
a small part of her actually liked the crotchety old rogue. The discovery
surprised her. That same, illogical piece wanted to trust him. After all, he
was family. But after pursuing over twenty years of bloody war against her territory,
Richert had proven time and again his one true desire; he wanted Donetsk. All of it. Logically, his agenda would never change.

*  *  *  *  *

Birn, Joshua’s first-in-command,
met them in the eastern city of Zyra’s deserted shuttle bay. The military
commander was a tall, bulky man with grizzled black hair and a barrel chest. He
wore Donetsk’s blue and cream with pride. Two fingers of his left hand were
missing, and these were noticeable when he clapped Joshua on the shoulder.

“Glad to see you in one piece.”

Joshua’s gaze slid to Anya. “Thanks
to Anya.”

Silver eyes sent her a piercing
glance, and then returned to Joshua. Birn’s failure to greet her was an insult.
Did he think her a coward for fleeing her marriage to Onred? Did he blame her
for Astana’s destruction? How many others felt the same way?

Guilt settled more heavily upon
her shoulders. Although she wanted to cling to Joshua’s comforting belief that
Onred would have bombed Astana regardless of her marriage plans, in her heart,
she agreed with Birn. She was to blame for the thermal strike on Astana. And
she didn’t see how it could ever be proven differently. Somehow, she had to
make things right, at least as much as she could. Less than a week ago, she’d
been unwilling to give her life for peace; that was no longer the case. Now she
would do anything to secure Donetsk Territory. And if she had to die to gain
her people’s freedom—it was a sacrifice she was ready and willing to make.

Birn led the way down the hall,
still speaking to Joshua. Anya followed beside Michael.

“Richert has pledged to help us,”
Joshua said. “We’ll attack at dusk.”

“Good. We’ll need it. Last night,
Onred bombed three military hangars. At last report, half of our air corps are
out of commission.”

The two men swerved into a
conference room. A handful of decorated military men waited at the oval table.

Ray, Joshua’s second-in-command,
rose to greet them. He was a tall, bespectacled, fair-haired man, with a gentle
demeanor. His intelligence and analytical skill, however, were quietly
formidable assets. Few dared argue with him in matters of facts, logic, or
science. No one ever beat him in chess.

His long, cool fingers curled
around Anya’s, and squeezed. She saw no condemnation in his eyes, which comforted
her; just sharp, analytical curiosity. “You saved Joshua’s life.”

“Yes,” she admitted. It was a
small accolade, compared to the trouble she had caused.

“You’d never piloted a ship
before.”

“Sometimes I can be impulsive. And
headstrong.”

His thin lips curved. “An element
of chaos can prove quite useful. Please join us.”

Great. Now she was the element of
chaos. Although Ray had made it sound like a positive quality, she was certain
Birn and the others would disagree, if their glacial expressions were any
indication. And she didn’t blame them. Anya pulled out a chair and sat between
Joshua and Michael.

Joshua reported the major events
of the last twenty-four hours, and detailed his and Richert’s plan to attack
Onred’s forces at dusk. “I’ve got frequencies and codes so we can coordinate
with Richert’s men. I’ve texted them to your phones.”

Ray punched a button on a small,
flat computer and a map glowed to life on the conference wall. Upon closer inspection,
Anya discovered it was a gigantic, three meter by three meter built-in
television monitor. Astana’s cities and territory were delineated in blue,
Richert’s in red, and Onred’s in orange.

“Do we focus our attack on their
capitol, Bogd?” asked Falcon, one of the older commanders.

“They’re licking their wounds. We
should finish them off,” Birn agreed.

“No.” This was from Joshua. “They’re
vulnerable. They’ll be like a mother bear with her cubs. We’ll need help.”

“Agreed,” Ray said. “By my
calculations, they’ll increase defensive measures by fifty percent.”

It was agreed to send three heavy
warships to attack Bogd, and enlist more help from Richert. The meeting continued
on, and the finer details of airbird and army squadrons assigned to strike each
of Onred’s cities were decided. Joshua would contact Richert to finalize
details of the plan, and to integrate Tarim Territory’s massive air defense
network with Donetsk’s diminished air corps to attack Altai Territory. To Anya’s mind, this was all well and good. However, by the time the meeting wound
down, no one had spoken of finding her family.

A few men rose, muttering about
meeting with troops and giving final instructions. Falcon headed for the door.

“Wait!” Anya exclaimed in
frustration. Ten pairs of eyes swiveled in her direction. Birn looked
irritated; many of the others, impatient. Joshua’s warmer gaze gave her the encouragement
to speak. “What about Onred? This war won’t end until that snake is dead.” Anya
could barely believe that now
she
was the one talking about murder.

Calmly, Ray asked, “Do you want to
join the assassination team?”

“Yes!”

“No,” cut in Joshua.

Turning to him, she said in a low
voice, “If my brothers and sisters are alive, they’re probably with Onred. I
want to be on the rescue team, at the very least. Don’t you?”

Curtly, Ray interrupted. “Onred’s
transmitting. On screen.”

The map on the wall dissolved into
Onred’s grotesquely distorted, gigantic face. He smiled. Each of his glinting
teeth looked as large as a skull.

“Citizens of Donetsk, again I
come, offering peace. I have called for the surrender of your leaders, but they
have refused. Their selfish disregard for your lives does not surprise me. When
I win the battle for your territory, you will be grateful to gain a wise ruler.
One who puts the needs of his people ahead of his own self interests.”

Anya rolled her eyes. For the
first time, she wondered if Onred might be a touch insane.

Onred attempted a smile. It looked
like a grimace. “In the gentlest way possible, again I urge Joshua and Anya to
concede defeat. If not for the benefit of the Donetski people, then perhaps for
the lives of the Dubrovnyk children.”

Onred’s face dissolved into a
scene so awful that Anya cried out and fell to her knees in horror. Elise,
David, and Marli were in chairs, faces battered, gags filling their widely
stretched mouths, wrists bound behind them, and ankles strapped to the chairs.
Tears ran down Marli’s terrified face. Anya’s horrified gaze traveled right, to
the worst image of all. Damon cowered on his knees on the floor. Yegor, Onred’s
first-in-command, gripped him by the hair. As she watched, he jerked Damon
forward and sliced an old fashioned machete toward his tender neck.