building up on the floor. Ahead, Chase saw the corner of a stone wall protruding through the ice - he had reached the building’s entrance. From inside came an irregular rushing hiss that reminded him of a steam locomotive. Whatever it was, it was violent, and loud.
Water dripped on to him as he went through the entrance, feet splashing in puddles. The heat was rising to sauna-like levels.
There was only one other way out that he could see. He followed it, steam swirling as the hissing noise grew louder. The stench of sulphur hit his nose, and he realised the cause - heat from the volcanic vent was melting the ice, which was draining into the fumarole, flashing into steam and blasting back out again in angry spurts.
He heard another hiss to one side. The builders had apparently channelled the heat to different places; more steam huffed forcefully from a vent in the floor. Clambering over a slushy mound, Chase saw two more exits from the underground room. Both seemed equally dense with drifting vapour. ‘Eeny, meeny, miney . . .
Hammerstein wiped his forehead. Being too hot in the Antarctic was the last thing he had expected, but the steam was getting thicker, corroding the maze around him. He saw he was approaching a wall, the clammy ice passage leading into a structure.
He switched off his gun’s light in case it gave Chase advance warning, then moved inside.
The room Chase entered was already dark enough without the steam further obscuring his vision - but a diffuse blue glow told him there was an opening above. A chimney for the fumarole?
The noise was coming from below, loud enough to make the room tremble with each enraged blast. There was obviously some kind of larger vent in the floor through which the steam was escaping; he decided to give it a wide berth, free hand outstretched to grope for the wall.
Despite the heat, there was still plenty of ice in the room; his fingers brushed over icicles, water dripping from their tips. Something loomed out of the mist, a bench rising to waist height, more icicles dangling from its overhanging top. He sidestepped it, moving on—
He wasn’t sure what made him stop - some sixth sense, the hairs on his neck rising as he got the feeling he had just passed uncomfortably close to something unseen. He looked round, another gusting jet of steam dissipating to reveal . . .
Hammerstein, barely two feet away, looking back at Chase with the same expression of jangled combat awareness.
They both whirled—
Their rifles clashed against each other like swords, too close to bring them to bear. Both men fired anyway, the shots forcing each to flinch back.
Chase swept up his gun, trying to yank Hammerstein’s weapon out of his hands by using the magazine as a makeshift hook. He succeeded - but the rifle’s strap snagged on Chase’s sights.
And by raising his arms, he had opened himself up to a different kind of attack.
Hammerstein punched Chase in the stomach, hard enough for the blow to hurt even through his coat. He lurched backwards, fumbling to keep his hold on the TAR-21 - but slammed into the jutting bench, the gun slipping from his hand. Both rifles clattered to the floor.
Hammerstein ducked to grab them. Chase swept out one foot, the guns spinning away into the humid fog. Snarling, the Israeli pulled back and clawed at his holster. Chase grabbed for his own pistol - but it was stuffed into a pocket, and would take too long to pull out and aim.
Instead he whipped his hand back and snapped an icicle off the bench, flinging it at Hammerstein’s face like a glass knife. The pointed end stabbed into his eye - but it had been blunted, rounded off by dripping meltwater.
It still had an effect, though, the Covenant leader roaring and instinctively bringing up a hand to protect his sight. The gun was only halfway out of its holster. Chase saw his chance and sprang at Hammerstein. He grabbed his right hand, trying to get the gun as they grappled. The metal was already slick with condensation, his fingers slithering over it. A punch to Hammerstein’s jaw to encourage him to loosen his grip—
It worked. Chase got the pistol - and immediately lost it again as it slipped from his grasp. ‘Shit!’ It bounced across the floor, metal clattering on stone - then the clank of metal on metal as it dropped through the grating over the vent into the fumarole below.
Hammerstein recovered, two savage punches driving into Chase’s stomach. Chase lashed out again, hearing a satisfyingly toothy crunch as blood spurted from the other man’s mouth, but it didn’t stop a steel-capped toe from smashing into his shin. He stumbled back, only for a second, harder kick to lash across his knee, spikes tearing his trousers and the skin beneath.
Pain slicing up his leg, Chase fell, landing on his back. The impact blew away the surrounding steam for a moment, revealing that he was very close to the edge of the vent. Another ferocious roar of hot vapour blasted past him.
He tried to roll away from the volcanic furnace - but Hammerstein drew a knife and dived at him.
Chase caught his hand just before the blade plunged into his throat, but the Covenant member was on top of him, pushing down with all his weight. The knife wavered, then descended, razor-sharp tip two inches from Chase’s neck, one. Hammerstein leered bloodily, sensing triumph—
Chase spat into his scratched eye.
The Israeli flinched, just the slightest involuntary response - but the blink of distraction was enough for Chase to break his hold and ram the knife down point-first on the stone floor. It stabbed between two paving slabs, sticking out of the ground like a miniature Excalibur. Not the result Chase had expected - he had hoped either to jar the weapon from Hammerstein’s hand or break the blade - but it would do. He headbutted the Covenant man, knocking him back, then grabbed his jaw and throat to push his head over the edge of the vent.
Another vicious hiss surged from below—
Hammerstein shrieked as a blast of searing vapour hit his face, exposed skin instantly blistering and reddening. But Chase couldn’t hold him - the heat was biting at his hands and wrists, forcing him to let go. Thrashing and screeching, Hammerstein rolled away, half his face a mottled patchwork of scabrous red and white, one eye clenched tightly shut.
But the other was still open, glinting with rage as it locked on to Chase.
Hammerstein kicked, one spiked boot landing squarely on target. Chase was flung backwards, grasping painfully at his chest. He landed hard near the wall, catching a glimpse of another exit through the swirling fog.
Hammerstein saw something else - one of the fallen rifles. He scrambled towards it as Chase groped in his pocket for the handgun.
The Israeli reached the rifle.
Chase spotted the tubular maw swinging towards him and flung himself desperately towards the half-seen exit as Hammerstein fired. He barely made it through the opening as the grenade smacked against the wall behind him. At such a short range the explosive hadn’t even had time to arm itself, ricocheting off the stone and spinning past the doorway before detonating.
The explosion ripped apart a supporting pillar, a section of the floor above crashing down into the vent chamber, blocking the opening with tons of stone and shattered ice. Even shielded from the direct effects of the blast round the corner, Chase still felt as though a giant had flung him against a wall. He protected his head with his arms as chunks of broken stone pounded him.
The echoes of the detonation faded. Ears aching, Chase looked round. He was at the end of another frozen channel, stone walls giving way to glossy white ice. The channel led outside the building; he could see the cold blue light of the cavern.
He didn’t have to worry about Hammerstein coming after him - the collapsed ceiling had sealed the entrance. But after the maiming of his face, the Covenant leader would more than ever want him dead. And Chase was still no nearer to finding Sophia - or rescuing Nina.
He pulled himself upright and, gun in hand, went in the only direction he could - back into the ice maze.
