The Waiting Cold
Author: Julian Miles, Staff Writer
Sally peers from under the racking, checks both ways, then hisses at me.
“You think they’ve gone?”
I shake my head, then put a finger to my lips. Clichéd it may be, but our unwanted visitors are attracted to sound.
But how did they get in? That’s what’s been bothering me. Well, apart from the obvious ‘what are they?’ We lost Adrian two months ago, and the only Dimitri I can recall was lost during Mission 12. We’re Mission 15, so that’s over six years.
Something that can make bodies move. Plus they’re corpses. So, what do I know of that animates dead bodies? Damn… Not just dead. Frozen.
Ice Ghosts? Out here?
Sally hisses and slaps the floor to get my attention. I wish she’d stop making noise.
“You think we should move?”
I repeat my earlier moves. She frowns, then snarls.
“Fuck this. I’m out of here.”
Her scrambling out from under the rack makes noise. The rack toppling to crash down across the way out of my hiding place is much louder. She runs to the left. I close my helmet and make myself as comfortable as I can. It’s going to take time and effort to get out of here. I might as well wait until my suit is nearly in the red across the board.
There’s a scream, followed by the sound of running footsteps. Sally comes past going flat out, her frantic footfalls a half beat off the rhythm of heavy treads that follow. The expedition suit labelled ‘Adrian’ thunders past. I can’t help but smile: Adrian’s after Sally, again – hope this Adrian doesn’t get her either.
My humour dies as her warbling scream is cut short. No gruesome noises, no drumming off heels or other horror movie endings. Just the eerie silence-that’s-not-silent. I can’t explain it. A tune? Some vibration?
Doesn’t matter. Back to thinking this through. Nothing else to do.
The ice ghosts were confined to Titan, but there had been rumours about them being aliens, not a remnant of some outré species native to our home system. Old. That’s what I remember got me. The article belaboured the point of how old they were.
Of course they’d be long-lived. Out here, food must be incredibly scarce. Let’s say this is where they originated, somehow. An insubstantial freespace entity, possessed of some unbelievable abilities to manipulate organic materials in their native environment: freezing vacuum.
Heavy treads coming this way.
The expedition suit labelled ‘Dimitri’ stops in front of the collapsed racking and something inside spends a long time twisting this way and that, inspecting the obstacle between us.
More heavy steps. ‘Adrian’ lumbers into view, it’s front covered in frozen blood. Tiny red crystals reflect the lights of the corridor.
The two hulking forms stand motionless for what seems like an age, then ‘Dimitri’ reaches forward to pull at the racking. It manages to lift one of the toppled uprights a little way, then drops it. I could lift it further. Looks like frozen muscles aren’t very strong.
‘Adrian’ thumps the racking, then points at me. It laboriously makes the astronaut sign language handshape for ‘near miss’!
They wave at me in unison and lumber off to my left.
I wait a very long time. Maybe I hear/feel the main lock cycle, maybe I’m dreaming. Eventually, I have to move, to free myself.
Walking the empty station, I find a lot of dried blood, but no bodies. Fire purging the airlocks gives me a brief satisfaction, but I’m going to be cold inside for a long time.

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