Behind me the ships were still cutting big pieces into little ones as they floated on the sea. I didn’t know how long they’d keep that up, but I knew by now that they wouldn’t fall for my just playing dead. They must’ve been using some sort of protoplasm detector; that seems like the only way they could’ve known I wasn’t dead by then. You never know what these strange types are going to come up with. My only escape was making sure that they flat couldn’t find me.
The land mass I was swimming for turned out to be an iceberg. As I got close I could hear it groaning and creaking as it melted. I latched onto the surface and clung to its side, still a hundred feet under. As I was catching my breath I started another scan. I could tell the pirates were still near, but more important, something else big was even nearer; it was circling in closer as I scanned. It was too dark to see, but the sensors told me it was 30 feet long, 4 feet wide, and swimming in the long lazy curves characteristic of a curious shark. After a few moments I also scanned clearly that the pirates were headed my way, too. Sharks and pirates both looking for me—not the way to start a peaceful day! I tunneled into the berg about 50 feet and then settled down for a long wait.
As the tunnel was freezing up behind me, I felt a couple of deep whumps pulse their way through the ice. I presume that the curious shark-thing had circled my pursuers once too many times. I couldn’t scan well through the ice, so I sweated blood for about an hour waiting for the ships to try and tear in after me. But they didn’t. I guess they couldn’t find me any better than I could find them.
Finally I shut down all the systems I could, then saw to myself. I did an internal body status check. I went through the anaerobic routine. I checked my heartbeat, adrenalin consumption, and the rest of my metabolic signs.
I’d consumed a lot of natural stimulant, and I’d been bruised up a bit, but I was otherwise okay. The power armor had done its thing flawlessly. It’d protected me and let me get places I couldn’t get otherwise. It was a real tool for me. I hardly felt strange at all burrowing through an iceberg. But now came the hard time. I was hidden, now I must remain still. So I put myself into minimum support and went into a recovery trance while I waited for the nasty guys to get tired and leave.
I owe my life to two things: That iceberg and the power armor. Those guys searched for five days. They were cutting open shark bellies and conducting a systematic search of the bottom trying to find pieces of me when the Patrol finally caught up with them.
Fortunately, the iceberg didn’t stand still for this. It floated away with me in it. It was a noisy trip. The berg moaned and groaned and kept rolling over. The power armor kept me warm and recirculated my fluids, so physically I was still being well cared for. But have you ever tried to sit still for two days?
I slept the first few hours. When I woke I found I’d melted myself a 5-foot diameter water-filled chamber. I could move around quietly in it as long as I stayed curled up. So I spun around in circles for a while and tried to keep myself busy. I sang. I calculated navigation problems. I dreamed about my girl friend. Hours later I was dreaming of any girl I could think of and singing snatches of songs I hadn’t tried to remember since high school choir. What else I did I can’t remember, but I stayed there because I knew as soon as I came out, I’d be meat.
Two days later the berg shifted and rolled around to where some dim light shone through the ice. When I saw that I freaked. I was near the top; I was only fifty feet from blue sky. I was so stir-crazy I couldn’t think. Without quite realizing what I was doing I worked my way up to the surface. The smart half of me was saying ‘stay still’, but the cabin-fever half of me was in control and it wanted out. Besides, I was getting weak from hunger. I wasn’t particularly hungry, the self-discipline techniques were great for suppressing that. But I could read my body, and self-discipline is a poor substitute for a couple of days’ meals.
I came out to a whipping wind and crashing water. The berg was in a storm. I was overwhelmed by the animation and variety of even this barren, dismal sight. Rain was splattering lightly on the ice and etching delicate tracery in the swells below. The rain-subdued waves were heaving noisily against the iceberg’s slick faces and overhead scud raced the wind against an otherwise featureless gray sky. I sat and watched. I cried.
Finally, I tried to sensor or sense where I was. Neither worked. I was pretty sure the nasties weren’t near, but I had no idea where I was. I noticed the berg was still twisting and turning and waves were about to knock me off, and since I couldn’t float I reluctantly crawled back in to wait some more.
That short trip out had settled me mightily; it showed that part of me screaming inside that I still had my freedom. I had taken the risk, faced the fear, and survived. After that intellect regained control over my emotions. It was a day later before I came out again—this time with full faculties. The storm had passed and the skies were clear and blue. But now I had another problem. In addition to being really hungry and smelly, I was running out of power. I’d run four days on the power pack and it finally gave out. I had only battery power left, and as you know that’s only good for a few hours.
I stayed on top of the berg and shivered out most of the day with the heaters turned off to conserve power. Every hour I scanned to see if there was land or a ship nearby, but nothing showed up. Panic was rising up inside me again. I was free, but was I dead?
Once the berg tumbled and I was thrown off. I burned up precious energy swimming and climbing my way back on. I ended up safe but exhausted, much more so that I should have been. I was tired of that berg. Hour after hour I longed to jump in and float away. But I had no choice. You know why by now. Right?
Here, take another look at the menu and order some dessert. You’re not in a hurry, are you?