Chapter 4 – THE WHITE OUT

 The winds in Ultima had; upon a previous expedition, been clocked reaching almost 200 miles per hour. It is fortunate then that the robust and sturdy, yet rather cramped survival tent is only facing a relatively minor gale. The vibrant orange insulated walls blow about, flapping and rustling loudly as the white mists that rush across the vast open plains batter against them unrelentingly. Inside, huddled around a small gas heater, the crew of the Anson gather tightly, their breath forming large clouds of condensation as they breathe. 

           “Agh! Really can I have another one of them morphine shots Sir?” Elliot moans as he scratches at his bandaged legs. 

           “For the last time: No! You’ve had enough, you wanna OD? Now shut up and leave your legs alone.” Commander Rhys demands gruffly, warming his hands against the glowing radiator. 

           “You're going to be alright Elliot.” Lynn says with a soft, almost motherly tone. The young witches whole aura exudes calm and warmth, despite the somewhat bleak situation.  

           “I guess we’ll see about that.” Sighs Cobbler. “We don't even know where we are. How will the fleet even find us?” 

           “They’ll find us. I packed a small radio beacon into the survival kit. Once the Furious picks up the ping they’ll know to come looking and exactly where to search.” Rhys reassures everyone. 

           “You packed the kit Commander? Always prepared.” Lynette smiles. 

           “The number one thing that’ll kill you in any survival situation is not being prepared. Learned that in Afrika. I made sure every boat and every plane that leaves the fleet has one of these kits.” 

          “Well this is far from Afrika. It’s fuckin’ freezing.” Elliot complains, clutching his arms around himself tightly. Taking pity, Lynn rummages through one of the heavy sacks which had held all of this gear and pulls out what looks like a standard 24 hour ration pouch.

           “I think we’re all on edge. Commander Rhys is right: we’ll be found soon enough. We just have to stay strong. Remember: teamwork. Here Elliot, eat something.” Lynn says, handing the pouch over to the injured airman.

            Elliot rips into the silver foil with haste, finding inside an odd assortment of items: most notably a small D-ration chocolate bar, a baggie of dehydrated strawberries and a pouch of something labelled Pemmican. 

            “What is this stuff?” he asks aloud.

            “Ground and dried out meat. Preserves for a long time and has plenty of fat to keep your body going in the cold. Just get it down you, it aint that bad.” Rhys explains. Indeed; Elliot tentatively tries a piece of the mystery meat and finds it to be as tough as eating salty cardboard, but not really unpleasant. The chocolate on the other hand, while partially frozen, tastes like the cheapest swill he’s ever had. Not exactly a Belgica delicacy. 

             Hours pass by as the ceaseless winds rage outside. Elliot had passed into a deep sleep a little while ago, and he is checked over by Lynn every now and then. The others simply sit in silence excluding the odd cough. Rhys spends his time grooming his thick beard with a small pocket mirror, while Cobbler slouches in a quiet depression gazing longingly at a tiny photograph in his hands. No longer able to hold back her curiosity Lynn shuffles over to sit next to the cold and shivering pilot.

             “Who is that?” she asks gently, snapping Cobbler out of his lonely stupor. 

            “Oh, Flying Officer?! Sorry… Uhh, well she’s my girlfriend back home Ma’am. Her name’s Jennie.” Cobbler explains with a hint of embarrassment and shyness to his words. He moves to hide the photo away in his jacket pocket, however he is stopped by Lynn suddenly taking his wrist lightly. 

            “I see. She’s a very pretty girl Sergent. She must be very proud of you.” 

            “Ha, yes, she is. She doesn't know where I am though. The mission is top secret so… She thinks I’m on a tour around the Pacific. What I’d give for a tropical island right now.” 

             “We’ll get you back to her soon John.” Lynn says, dropping her formalities in order to lighten the miserable mood inside the tent. 

             “Thank you Miss Bishop. You're a witch after all; I’ve heard you can do anything. I’m sure you’ll get us all home safely.” Elliot smiles.

             “Not quite anything, but we try our best. Oh, and you can just call me Lynn for now.” 

             “Umm, Ok… Lynn.” The befuddled pilot says, stumbling over his words, unused to addressing a superior officer so casually. “Uh. So… Do you have anyone back in Britannia Lynn?” he continues, unsure of where to take the conversation next. 

             “Me?! No! No!” Lynn stutters in a panic. She hadn't expected that question. 

             “That’s a surprise. I’d have thought a hero like you would be really popular.” 

             “Well I’m… There was this friend of mine who…” Lynn says quietly, her thoughts drifting off to a time long ago - before she quickly catches herself with a rapid shake of her head; her ponytail whipping about and her chest bouncing alluringly. “No! No! I… I’m not very good at talking to boys.” she admits as her face goes a bright red, hidden behind her hands shyly. The sudden outburst brings a light and happy chuckle from the young man and a quick curious glance up from Rhys.

              “I’m sure you’ll find someone for you Lynn. It took me a while to find Jennie but now that the war is over, well; we can all focus on finding happiness right?” 

              “If only that were true. There’s a lot of people suffering back home who can’t find any happiness at all. We have to succeed down here, no matter what. For them.” Lynn retorts, her eyes narrowing with a steadfast resolve.  

              “Spoken like a true warrior.” Rhys says, cutting into the moment bluntly. “Don’t worry this is all just an unexpected setback. Once we get back to the fleet we’ll set out to find the oil field for real. Then we can all go home.” 

               “Do you have anyone waiting for you Commander?” Lynn asks.

               “Not anymore. The Neuroi took my wife. But that was a long time ago… I’m married to the outdoors now.” Rhys replies, his emotions hardly cracking his tough, manly exterior. Still the loss weighs heavy on his words. “I think you two should get some sleep like Cinderella over there. I’ll keep watch.” he continues gruffly.              

                 The tent begins to quieten down again and Cobbler lays his head uncomfortably on a kit bag ready to fall asleep. It is just then that everyone suddenly perks up. There was a noise outside, something different from the constant howling of wind. No one says anything for a moment, they just listen intently. Perhaps they imagined it, an illusion. But then; there it is again, a deep, monstrous roaring, echoing over the snow-dunes, piercing the winds and making its presence painfully obvious. It’s not a plane, it’s too close, and whatever it is: it’s big. 

                “What is that?” Elliot whispers in shock.

                “I don't know. Bishop, grab your rifle and follow me.” Rhys says swiftly getting to his feet and reaching for his knife.

                “Yes Sir!” Lynn obeys, hefting her gigantic rifle to her hip. 

                 Outside rages a blizzard, a shier wall of mist and cascading snow races over Lynette and Commander Rhys as they both tentatively step out from the relative warmth of the tent. Rhys almost loses his balance as the winds hammer against him ferociously, filling his beard with frosty powder. Visibility has been reduced to only a few metres and the only thing in view is the orange tarp which is covering Lynn’s striker unit, slowly burying itself into the ground. 

                 Painfully the pair trudge through the deep drifts of ice around the exterior of the tent searching, scanning, looking for whatever it is that made those sounds. As Lynn piers off into the fog she spots something unexpected - a light moving amid the storm. 

               “Commander!” the witch yells out, hoping Rhys can hear her over the winds. Soon the mechanical crunching and booming returns as the lights become brighter, growing ever nearer. Lynn holds her rifle steady, unsure of what this mysterious apparition could be. The Britannian fleet had not brought anything capable of traversing the land in order to reach them. Then; as if breaking through a final curtain of snow, the unknown monster reveals itself. 

               Pulling up just short of where Lynette stands comes a gigantic vehicle: bright red, with four tires larger than any Lynn has ever seen before. Its wide cabin radiates a brilliant glow from within and likewise the powerful headlights slice through the blizzard with ease. From its back shoots a pillar of dusty smoke as the immense tractor finally comes to a halt, its brakes screaming under its own weight. With the new arrival making such a loud entrance even Cobbler sticks his head from the safety of the tent to see for himself what is going on. Rhy’s joins Lynn, stepping a few feet just before her to take a leading position, bravely facing down the behemoth. 

               From within the vehicle comes a clattering, a crunch of metal as someone forces open the mechanism operating the large bulkhead door on its side. Swinging downwards the hatch opens, forming a steep set of stairs which thud into the dense snow. The inside of the tractor is at first obscured by its own bright lights until a figure appears high up in the wide door frame, a figure Lynn is sure she recognises as her eyes adjust.

               “It can't be… Erica!?” Lynette calls out in utter disbelief. The mystery girl chuckles and adjusts her glasses which have quickly begun to steam up in the cold. 

               “Sorry, wrong one.” she laughs jokingly. 

               “Ursula!?” Lynette finally realises with a giant, thankful smile. 

               It's a tough job lifting the injured Elliot up and into the massive snow cruiser, however its crew just about manages to get him inside without causing the poor fellow too much pain. The Karlsland soldiers, dressed in heavy winter gear, set the wincing and moaning Brit down on a cot at the rear of the vehicle. 

                “Agh! Steady on lads!” he whines pitifully as Commander Rhys comes to look over his shrieking comrade. 

                “Stop moaning you big baby.” Rhys mocks, setting down several bags pulled from the survival tent.  

                “Ahh, it’s good to know you care Commander.” Elliot smiles in return. 

                “That’s the spirit.” The Commander retorts with a grin. Meanwhile Lynette converses with Ursula, an old friend she hasn't met in many years. 

                 “What are you doing here Ursula?” Lynn asks, both confused and incredibly happy at seeing a friendly face. 

                 “I imagine for the same reason you are: looking for the Ultima oil fields.” Ursula explains plainly, drawing the sudden attention of Rhys who stomps down the length of the cabin to likewise question the tiny Karlsland witch. 

                  “So Karlsland knows about the oil fields as well?” he asks abruptly. 

                  “Lots of countries know about the oil fields, but if it’s any consolation not many have the technology to come all the way down here to look for them. You have that going for you.” Ursula says somewhat dismissively of the hulking bearded man. 

                   “I see. I assume you followed our radio beacon? I was hoping one of our guys would come find us.” 

                    “I’m afraid your countrymen likely never heard your call for help. The storms in the region have been… well they've been acting very strange, blocking radio signals. We were only just in range to hear you. If you’d have crashed anywhere else; you’d have been done for.” The petit bespeckled teen chirps, rather flippant about what could have been their certain deaths all things considered. 

                    “Well you have the thanks of all my crew Officer Hartmann.” Rhys grumbles deeply, moving back to be with his fellow male soldiers at the end of the cruiser. There is a heavy thud from outside as Lynn's striker unit is secured to the cargo port and the Karlslanders begin to make their way back inside. Soon the door closes with a mechanical hiss and the massive engines fire up, shaking the entire cabin with tremendous force. In a tiny, claustrophobic alcove Lynette sits across from Ursula, two flasks of steaming hot tea on the table, ready to catch up with scientist, and give her own thanks for the timely rescue. 

                    “I really can't believe it's you Ursula. Thank you.” Lynn smiles happily, warming her shivering hands on the boiling thermos. 

                    “Well I’m quite the same; I was certainly not expecting to find you out here Ms Bishop.” Ursula replies. “How have you been?”

                    “Oh, good enough I suppose. Aside from a plane crash that is.” Lynn giggles before taking a much needed gulp of energising tea. “But what about you? How have you been? How’s… How’s Erica doing?” Lynn continues with a saddened, longing remorse thinking about her old squad mate. 

                    “I’m perfectly fine, and Erica is doing much better now. She’s sleeping more, eating more. But… Sometimes she looks at me with the strangest glint in her eyes. I still don't know what happened, she’s so convinced it was real but it simply can't be. It must have been a dream… Either way my sister changed after Moscow… she’s not the same…” Ursula says quietly, looking away, avoiding Lynn’s sympathetic gaze. It hurts a lot to hear how the once boisterous and energetic ultra-ace Erica Hartmann, one of Lynn’s very best friends, has fallen so far.

                     “I’m sorry Ursula. I’m so, so sorry.” Lynn whispers compassionately. 

                     “I’m trying my best to help her, and she is getting better. She’s stayed in contact with Ms Litvyak as well, they send letters to each other all the time… But it has been hard. Not just with Erica, but Karlsland… The whole world has changed so much. Everything made a lot more sense when we were fighting the Neuroi.” 

                      “You can say that again. Anyway… it's good to see you again. Where are we headed by the way?” Lynn asks, changing the subject from the dire state of global affairs. 

                      “We're heading back to our base camp. If the weather holds it should take an hour or two. We have witches there who can heal your friend's legs as well.” Ursula explains, springing up from her slouched stupor, shaking off the weight of the previous topic with ease. 

                   “Really? That's great! And there was my Commander boasting about always being prepared when we didn't even come here with any healers.” Lynn laughs, admonishing Rhys’s seeming overconfidence.  

                   “That's Karlsland efficiency for you.” Ursula smirks. 

                   “Speaking of: these trucks are very impressive. I’ve never seen anything like them before. Not even in Orussia.” Lynn admires gleefully, darting her eyes around the crawler's interior. It is indeed an engineering marvel. Within such a small space sits a fully stocked galley, a photo dark room, a machine shop, food storage and the sleeping cots where Elliot currently rests. Up front stands the massive control cabin and charting room, hidden for the moment behind an insulated door.  

                    “Thank you. I designed them myself. Oversaw every stage of their construction. We have two of them. This is Karlsland Snow Cruiser “Nacht”. The other one is the Cruiser “Nebel”, although that one is slightly different. This cruiser is even capable of launching striker units from the back. Out of all my inventions I think this is the most successful one… well ever, if I’m being honest.” Ursula beams happily, genuinely excited to talk about her creations to someone who will listen.  

                    “Well I can see why they picked you to build them; you're the best scientist I know… You're the only scientist I know but… Still. Actually: about that. Something’s been bugging me.” Lynn says through continuous sips of her tea. “I did a lot of reading about Ultima before coming here and something isn't adding up. The storm that knocked us out of the sky; it appeared out of nowhere, literally nowhere! As you said they’re blocking radio signals and on top of that it was snowing. I know everywhere is covered in snow but Ultima only gets a few inches of precipitation a year, it doesn't actually snow here, it’s bone dry out there! Ultima is a desert.” Lynn expounds, practically leaning across the tiny table to whisper her concerns at Ursula. 

                     “Yes, I’ve had my own suspicions. Things have been odd ever since we arrived here. I’ll warn you now Ms Bishop: it isn't much better at our base. Things there are strange, in more ways than one. You’ll have to see when we get there. Hopefully by then the storm will have cleared up. We have a transmitter which should reach whatever ship you came here on, so your friends can come and pick you up. In the meantime there’s food in the galley if you need anything. Make yourself at home and… welcome aboard.” Ursula clarifies with a friendly, cheery smile.