Runaway World

Showdown

     "Greetings, fellow police officers," said Andrew cheerfully.

     Cheval and Windsor were sitting in the cockpit, staring out the window at the tracks left by Fox's rover stretching out of sight ahead of them. The ground was almost perfectly flat except where the ice had been either pulled apart to create fissures and crevices or pushed together to create pressure ridges decades earlier. As the last of the ice's residual heat had ebbed away the processes that had created these features had ceased, but the uneven terrain meant that the rover vibrated and shuddered as it drove across it.

     If one ignored these small features, though, and fixed one's eyes on the horizon, the land was perfectly flat. When Andrew had gone upstairs to get a few hours sleep they'd still been in the Alps, but now they were driving across Mediterrania Planitia, what had once been the Mediterranean sea, towards what had once been the island of Sicily. It was a straight race now between them and Fox, and they were growing closer with every kilometre they covered.

     "You're only an acting police officer," Cheval reminded him without looking around. "Just until we get back to the city. Then you'll be officially discharged and free to go back to what you call your normal life."

     "But with a couple of good stories to tell," said Windsor, who did look around. "And probably an award for bravery to hang on your living room wall. I envy you, Andy. What I wouldn't have given to have gone in your place."

     "How's your leg now?"

     "Better. Just need to rest it for a few days, I think, and it'll be as good as new."

     "Good." Andrew leaned forward to see the monitor screens. "So, how far behind him are we now?"

     "No way to tell for sure," Windsor said, "but for a long time we weren't gaining on him. Across the Planitia, where he could be confident there were no hidden hazards, he was free to drive at full speed, as we were. It's only now that he's in the highlands again that he's been forced to slow down."

     "So we're almost across the med?" said Andrew.

     "Just coming up to the Highlands now," the Constable said. "Look."

     He pointed forward through the cockpit window and Andrew saw mountains on the horizon, shining in the light of the distant sun. "So it's almost over," he said. "One way or another."

     "Just a few dozen kilometres now from Etna Mons," said Cheval, his eyes still fixed on the monitor screens. "He might be just over the horizon or he might have reached the volcano already. No way to know, so we're going just as fast as we can, just in case..."

     There was a loud bang and a radiating pattern of cracks spread across the window. All three men jumped in alarm, staring at each other as if one of the others would be able to tell them what had just happened. "Something just hit us," said Windsor in confusion. "How is that possible?"

     There was another bang and another pattern of cracks appeared on the other side of the window. "Someone's shooting at us!" roared Cheval. He pulled on the joystick and the rover spun around, sideways on to the sniper hidden somewhere on the ice ahead of them. Andrew felt his stomach clenching up with fear. If their attacker had some kind of heavier weapon they were a sitting duck. Even a small missile would rip a man-sized hole in both layers of the rover's hull, and the door to the cockpit was the only one that was airtight. They would he trapped in the cockpit, helpless to do anything but wait while their attacker moved to a position where he'd have another shot at the window.

     There was no explosion, though. "He's just got a rifle," said Cheval thoughtfully. "The only damage he can do to us with a rifle is to the window. If we reverse towards him, then spin around when we reach his position, we can show him a clean pair of heels as we carry on our way."