supposition.
‘Yes,’ declared Penley firmly, shrugging on his snow garments, ‘and I intend to find out more about them.’ With hardly a glance back, he shuffled quickly outside, and began his uphill trek to the glacier.
Somehow, Victoria had managed to snatch a few hours of fitful sleep. Every time she had woken up, Varga had been moving from one melting block of ice to the other, almost willing the creatures inside back to life… At dawn she awoke fully, and, shivering with cold, stared towards the glacier face in numb disbelief. Only two blocks of ice remained, and these were rapidly disintegrating as the creatures inside strove to break out – almost like dragon-men from monstrous frozen eggs, she thought. Their comrades stood around them, urging them into life with a chorus of hissing. Frightened yet fascinated, Victoria began to notice the differences between them: Varga’s bearing and style of helmet and reptilian armour seemed of a superior nature to the others. He seemed to delegate more and more of the physical tasks to a second-in-command – whose name, Victoria gathered, was Zondal. He was just as gigantic in stature, but his whole aspect was fiercer and more repellent; and he snapped at and bullied the others. The remaining four warriors, including the two who had at last broken free of the ice, were less elegant and more clumsy than Varga, whose majestic bearing, seen in daylight, fitted all Victoria’s ideas of a warlord. Zondal was harshly ordering the warriors into a simple formation, ready for inspection. Varga turned and, seeing Victoria crouched and awake, strode over to her.
‘You see?’ He proudly gestured towards his warriors. ‘It has worked! All my crew are alive! The ice is our friend!’
‘Then you don’t need me,’ replied Victoria. ‘Let me go back to my own people, please!’
The Martian warlord stared at her coldly. ‘You will stay here with us,’ he hissed. ‘If you value your life, obey – and do not anger us!’
‘But I’m no use to you!’ protested Victoria. ‘You don’t need me – you have your warriors now.’
Ignoring this plea, Varga turned and summoned his second-in-command. ‘Zondal!’ As the warrior approached him and saluted in the Martian fashion – clenched fist to left shoulder – Varga continued, ‘You will locate our buried spaceship without delay!’
‘That will not be difficult, Commander,’ came the harsh reply.
‘You will then gain access to it by excavating into the glacier…’ Varga paused. ‘The cave that you will form will also act as an efficient trap. Proceed!’
Zondal saluted again, turned, and began to place his men at key points facing the glacier. Victoria had overheard Varga’s strategy; her eyes were wide with alarm. ‘But you don’t need a trap. No one wants to attack you!’ His grim face was implacable. She pleaded desperately. ‘If you let them, they may be able to help you. You’ve only got to ask.’
The warlord looked down at her distraught face proudly. ‘We do not need help. We are superior!’
Victoria protested, close to tears. ‘You’d still be dead and frozen solid in there,’ she cried out, pointing at the glacier, ‘if it wasn’t for us humans!’
‘You are a child!’ he sneered, then turned to watch Zondal organise the other warriors. Victoria wasn’t going to be put off that easily.
‘But what are you going to do with me?’
‘A trap needs bait,’ hissed the warlord. ‘You will be the bait that draws your friends towards us.’
‘No!’ cried Victoria, in dismay. But there was no appeal against the cruel decision.
‘Be silent!’ ordered Varga. The violence in his voice quelled his prisoner completely. She huddled silently close to the snow crevasse, sullenly watching Zondal and his men.
At Varga’s command, the sounding sensors on their breastplates glowed and pulsed – just as his own had done when he set out to locate his comrades. Zondal then strode forward, marked
‘Yes,’ declared Penley firmly, shrugging on his snow garments, ‘and I intend to find out more about them.’ With hardly a glance back, he shuffled quickly outside, and began his uphill trek to the glacier.
Somehow, Victoria had managed to snatch a few hours of fitful sleep. Every time she had woken up, Varga had been moving from one melting block of ice to the other, almost willing the creatures inside back to life… At dawn she awoke fully, and, shivering with cold, stared towards the glacier face in numb disbelief. Only two blocks of ice remained, and these were rapidly disintegrating as the creatures inside strove to break out – almost like dragon-men from monstrous frozen eggs, she thought. Their comrades stood around them, urging them into life with a chorus of hissing. Frightened yet fascinated, Victoria began to notice the differences between them: Varga’s bearing and style of helmet and reptilian armour seemed of a superior nature to the others. He seemed to delegate more and more of the physical tasks to a second-in-command – whose name, Victoria gathered, was Zondal. He was just as gigantic in stature, but his whole aspect was fiercer and more repellent; and he snapped at and bullied the others. The remaining four warriors, including the two who had at last broken free of the ice, were less elegant and more clumsy than Varga, whose majestic bearing, seen in daylight, fitted all Victoria’s ideas of a warlord. Zondal was harshly ordering the warriors into a simple formation, ready for inspection. Varga turned and, seeing Victoria crouched and awake, strode over to her.
‘You see?’ He proudly gestured towards his warriors. ‘It has worked! All my crew are alive! The ice is our friend!’
‘Then you don’t need me,’ replied Victoria. ‘Let me go back to my own people, please!’
The Martian warlord stared at her coldly. ‘You will stay here with us,’ he hissed. ‘If you value your life, obey – and do not anger us!’
‘But I’m no use to you!’ protested Victoria. ‘You don’t need me – you have your warriors now.’
Ignoring this plea, Varga turned and summoned his second-in-command. ‘Zondal!’ As the warrior approached him and saluted in the Martian fashion – clenched fist to left shoulder – Varga continued, ‘You will locate our buried spaceship without delay!’
‘That will not be difficult, Commander,’ came the harsh reply.
‘You will then gain access to it by excavating into the glacier…’ Varga paused. ‘The cave that you will form will also act as an efficient trap. Proceed!’
Zondal saluted again, turned, and began to place his men at key points facing the glacier. Victoria had overheard Varga’s strategy; her eyes were wide with alarm. ‘But you don’t need a trap. No one wants to attack you!’ His grim face was implacable. She pleaded desperately. ‘If you let them, they may be able to help you. You’ve only got to ask.’
The warlord looked down at her distraught face proudly. ‘We do not need help. We are superior!’
Victoria protested, close to tears. ‘You’d still be dead and frozen solid in there,’ she cried out, pointing at the glacier, ‘if it wasn’t for us humans!’
‘You are a child!’ he sneered, then turned to watch Zondal organise the other warriors. Victoria wasn’t going to be put off that easily.
‘But what are you going to do with me?’
‘A trap needs bait,’ hissed the warlord. ‘You will be the bait that draws your friends towards us.’
‘No!’ cried Victoria, in dismay. But there was no appeal against the cruel decision.
‘Be silent!’ ordered Varga. The violence in his voice quelled his prisoner completely. She huddled silently close to the snow crevasse, sullenly watching Zondal and his men.
At Varga’s command, the sounding sensors on their breastplates glowed and pulsed – just as his own had done when he set out to locate his comrades. Zondal then strode forward, marked
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