“This isn’t good,” Manny mutters, his eyes darting, trying to look everywhere at once.

“Strengths?” Koda asks, tightening her grip on her weapon.

“Don’t know yet. They’re definitely heading for the base, though.”

“And the humans. Coerced or voluntary?”

“I don’t know that yet either,” Kirsten bites off, shaking her head. “No real mention of them in the routine communications I’m picking up.”

Manny steps forward. “As much as I don’t believe I’m saying this, Koda, I think we should treat them like unfriendlies no matter what their circumstances.”

Kirsten gazes over at him, shocked. “Is that what they’re teaching you in the military these days?”

“No, Ma’am,” Manny replies, spine so straight it crackles. “Exactly the opposite, in fact. But right now, I don’t think we can afford to take any chances. Ma’am.”

Dismissing him with a look, Kirsten concentrates on the chatter coming over her implants. Koda flips on her com unit and quietly relays Kirsten’s reports to Tacoma in Lakota. When she’s done, she looks back to Kirsten. “Any more info?”

“Nothing specific. They’re still headed this way. If the GPS was working, I could tell you exactly how far.”

“It’s alright.” Grinning, she hefts a large and heavy sack and slings it over her back. “Manny, stay here and keep an eye out. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Wait! Where are you….” Kirsten cuts off her own words as she realizes she’s speaking to thin air. She turns to Manny. “Where is she going?”

Manny smirks, then shrugs. “Dunno. I wouldn’t worry about it, though. Dakota’s real good at taking care of business. And herself.”

Rubbing her chin thoughtfully, Kirsten stares down the most likely path of Koda’s disappearance. “Yes,” she comments softly, more to the air than the man standing just a few paces away. “Yes, I suppose she is.”

The time is not yet.

*

Having been taught to snowshoe as soon as she had learned to walk, Dakota moves effortlessly across the snowy plain, leaving no discernable tracks behind. Headed south, away from the droids and their human collaborators (or captives, if one possesses a glass-half-full attitude), she parallels the road for a little over two miles, then back, and back again, until she comes to the perfect spot. Moonlight glints off perfect white teeth as she surveys her surroundings. She knows this particular stretch of road very well. Long, straight, and utterly monotonous, it’s exactly what she needs.

Slinging the pack away from her body, she unzips the front and reaches inside, gloved fingers gingerly clamping onto a thick metal container. Pulling it out, she sets the pack on the snow, then unscrews the lid of the container and reaches inside. She removes a flat metallic disc the same size and shape as an old-time DVD. Military technology had escalated to stratospheric heights during and after the last of the Great Wars, and the device she holds in her hand is one such example. An anti-tank mine, it is much smaller, much lighter, much more accurate, and much deadlier than the mines of old. Placed correctly, it will allow the humans and non-military droids to step directly on it without tripping the trigger.

Such will not be the case when the heavy treads of a military android descend.

Calmly, and with precision, Koda places her stash of mines, ten in all, into the natural cracks and divots of the snow and ice that packs the road. Sweat pours liberally from her face and her breath comes in soft pants of mist. She works freely and easily. Nature, even in the deep of an icy night, flows over, around, and through her, accepting her as its own, even in her destructive task. A sharp wind cuts across the naked flesh of her face, but she pays it no mind, intent on her work and the ebb and flow of life around her.

An hour later, she steps back and, hands on hips, views her work by the light of the moon. A grunt of satisfaction, and she zips her pack, reseats the straps across her broad shoulders, and turns back the way she came.

*

A soft owl’s hoot brings Manny to instant attention. When the sound is repeated, he hoots back, which catches Kirsten’s attention. Slipping the bud from her ear, she turns in Manny’s direction and is almost launched into orbit when the empty space of a split-second ago is suddenly filled by Dakota’s very living presence. “Holy Jesus,” she breathes, holding a hand up to her chest. “You just scared the crap out of me.”

“Sorry,” Koda replies, contrite. She glances at Manny. “All quiet?”

“Clear blue.”

“Good.” Back to Kirsten. “Anything else on the targets?”

Recovering, Kirsten nods. “Still headed this way. I was able to do some triangulation. They’re about five miles out now, give or take a few hundred feet. They’ve picked up two passengers. One regular droid, one human.”

“Anything from the other groups?”

“I’m picking up two other definites. Both smaller than the one we’re tracking now. Maybe twenty or thirty in each party, mostly regular droids and a few humans here and there. Nothing more specific than that.”

“How far out?”

“Ten, maybe fifteen miles. Both headed east-southeast, toward Ellsworth. At the rate they’re traveling, they’ll probably join up about six miles east of here.”

Koda nods, intuition satisfied. “I know the place.” She spares them both a pointed glance. “Ready to haul out?”

Kirsten straightens. “Where are we going? And where did you go?”

“Left a few surprises for our friends,” Koda replies, grinning.

“Surprises?”

“Land mines.” Kirsten’s exclamation is forestalled by an upraised hand. “Anti-tank mines. Any humans in the group will pass over them without a problem. These little gifts are for the military droids.”

Kirsten looks unconvinced.

“We either get them now, away from innocent lives, or we’ll have to deal with them later when there’s no choice in the matter.”

Looking down at her feet, Kirsten nods. The image of the two men she’s killed flashes in front of her and she finds herself clenching jaws and fists to keep it pushed down, far down out of sight and mind and thought.

Sensing Kirsten’s inner turmoil, Koda takes a step closer. “You alright?” The gaze that meets hers is clear and direct, but she can see the fight within and again it calls to her. “Is there something I can….”

“No,” Kirsten interrupts, back in full control. “It’s nothing.” Her shoulders square and set. “I’m ready to move out when you are.”

“Let’s go then.”

*

“Ouch! God…damnit!”

From her point position, Koda easily hears Kirsten’s pained cry and hurries back to investigate. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Cramp,” Kirsten bites out, snatching off a glove with her teeth and reaching down to work frozen fingers into an equally frozen knot of muscle in her calf. “Damn snowshoes. Should have left them to the rabbits, where they belong.”

“Hang on, hang on.” Tossing her weapon to Manny, Koda gets down on one knee and gently displaces Kirsten’s stiff, digging fingers. “Take some deep slow breaths. In and out. In and out.”

“I already know how to breathe,” Kirsten snaps. “Been doing it since I was a baby.”

“Just do it,” Koda orders, working her fingers into the thick straps of knotted muscle.

Startled by Koda’s uncharacteristic display of temper, Kirsten complies. Under the onslaught of Dakota’s skilled hands, the cramp gradually loosens.

Only to seize up again, hard enough to cause her leg to buckle. Saved from an ignominious topple onto her backside by Koda’s strong arm, she tenses, then relaxes as she finds herself half carried-half dragged a few steps back to where a flat-topped rock juts out from its bed of snow. With a soft grunt of pain, she lowers herself onto the rock, not protesting as her boot is removed and her triply socked foot is grabbed and manipulated until her toes point almost toward her chest. This eases the tension on her calf somewhat, and when Dakota’s fingers return to the knotted muscle, it begins to loosen in a way that Kirsten knows will be lasting.

As the cramp starts to relax, the rest of her does as well, as the stress and the hours without sleep begin to catch up with her. Her chin dips and her eyes find themselves gazing at the very top of Koda’s uncovered head. The moonlight brings out the bluish highlights in her deep black hair and Kirsten, to her private horror, watches as her own hand lifts from its place on her lap and reaches out to brush gently against the shining mass. It is just the briefest of touches, but it lingers sweetly in some deep part of her that isn’t hotly debating between crawling beneath the very rock she’s sitting on and—the current frontrunner—running as fast and as far as she can and not stopping until she reaches, say, Outer Mongolia.

Manny notices and quickly looks away, suspecting that he’s unintentionally intruding on a very private moment.

As quickly as it’s come upon her, the panic fades away at the sight of arresting blue eyes and a sweetly crooked smile that now fills her field of vision. There is no judgment to be seen in Koda’s striking features. Only kindness, compassion, and caring. “Better now?” Koda asks, her voice low and soft.

Kirsten clears her throat, suddenly aware of its dryness. “Yes.” She swallows. “Much. Thank you.”

“Anytime.” A canteen is thrust into Kirsten’s hands. “Here. Drink this. You’re dehydrated.”

“You mean it wasn’t the snowshoes?”

“A little of both, maybe,” Dakota concedes, slipping the heavy boot back over Kirsten’s foot, fastening it securely, then rising to her full height. “Take a little more. Yeah, that’s it. We’ve still got a few hours ahead of us, if you think you’re up to it.”

With a nod, Kirsten hands back the canteen and gets back up on legs that are steady and blessedly pain free. “I’m up to it. Let’s get going.”

With an amused glance at her cousin, Koda starts out after the fully recovered and determined young woman striding ahead.

Manny just rolls his eyes and follows along.

*

A chill wind, heavy with the scent of snow, cuts sharply through the small grove of trees. The winter-bare limbs rattle like the bones of a hundred skeletons in a hundred closets. At the sound, Dakota looks up from her task of planting the last of the anti-tank mines. The sky is thick with turbulent clouds, angry in a way she knows all too well.

Manny follows her glance upward, wincing. “Shit. Base said no weather tonight.”

“Probably fucked up those satellites too,” Koda grunts, turning back to her work.

“I’m guessing this is a bad thing,” Kirsten remarks, walking over from her spot a few yards away.

“Depends on your definition of ‘bad’,” Dakota deadpans, not looking up from her precise placing of the mine beneath the snow.

The barest glint of a smirk sharpens Kirsten’s eyes. “Would you like the Mirriam-Webster-Turner version, or would you be content with the Oxford Condensed Unabridged?”

Manny’s slow motion head turn is the stuff of old-time silent movie classics and Kirsten enjoys every second of it. She’s not exactly sure why she derives such pleasure from getting this brash young pilot’s goat. Perhaps it’s her way of telling him that she will be accepted on her own terms. Why she desires acceptance from a man who is, for all intents and purposes, a stranger is another question she doesn’t have an answer for.

Deer in the headlights, she thinks, raising an eyebrow and daring him to respond. And he looks as if he’s going to, right up until the time that both his military training and the realization of exactly who she is conspire to ambush him. His snappy comeback dies on his lips, and he turns away, pretending to study the roiling sky.

Perfectly aware of the little drama taking place mere feet away, Koda takes her time placing the last mine. Rising, she casually dusts her gloves off on her thighs, then gives Kirsten a deliberately pointed look before clapping her cousin on the back. “Alright, flyboy. Time to make tracks.”

“Bless you,” Manny half whispers before looking through the copse of trees directly ahead. “Uh oh.”

Koda looks up just in time to see the heavy squall move toward them with the speed of an oncoming train. “Shit.” She glances over her shoulder. “Kirsten, grab my pack. Don’t let go no matter what, understand?”

“Whiteout!” Manny shouts just as the storm descends, bathing them in a world of blinding, pure white.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

KIRSTEN BECOMES IMMEDIATELY disoriented as the howling wind whips the snow around her face and body, blinding her completely, and stinging the exposed areas of her skin like a studded whip. “Dakota!”