Aboard the Inithari Snow Express
On the edge of what used to be Abbera, away from the crowded ancient core of the city, in what someone back in Inithar would’ve called an outer suburb, a snowplough moved smoothly; silently speeding through the blizzard that had enveloped the landscape along a forgotten piece of railway – its plow sending snow flying to either side of the vehicle as a fine mist as it did. From the quiet confines of the beast’s cabin, Atu was cursing the ever-present cold that seeped in even through the thick isolation applied to the locomotive’s walls. The metal body of the Kepuala creaked and groaned as the second railway engine shifted in the storm, to which Atu responded with a few strokes of the command paddles, bringing it back to bear by adjusting its suspension yet again. The command bridge was a clutter of controls and instruments marked by nothing but colorful bands, while behind him were wooden tables on which lay heaped charts and itineraries; mappings of this strange world hand-drawn since the expedition’s arrival months ago. Indeed; the first thing one would notice upon entering the bowels of the mighty Kepuala were not its construction, but the characteristic tang of Inithari tobacco, and the scent of alcohol and treated leather worn by its crew; Atu and his men, Tahwiti and Manoa, whom were passed out on a small couch not far behind – and technically the farwatchers too, though they came from the Navigator’s Fellowship and remained unseen, separated by a sheet of metal and padding in the upper sections. They were as much under his purview as was the time, though they were as accurate.
This mundanity ended at the cab’s windshield, before which an alien world unfolded before Atu’s eyes – scarred by whatever cataclysm was unleashed upon Harren and made its mark. Even after months since the landing, even after he had walked much of it – and even after he had a hand in changing its face once more by building roads, reclaiming infrastructure and constructing a permanent colony – still Atu found it fascinating. But did he ever hate the cold. There were cities turned into fortresses by beings who had lived here, and remade their world, and vanished – blown themselves to bits no doubt!
His thoughts were interrupted when the shriek of the alarms sounded.
‘Not again…’, Atu thought as he made the brakes screech from below. If he was ever in doubt of if his crew were awake, he was certain they’d woken up when a silent thud emanated from behind and the usual groans that came with every urgent break reared their ugly head. Of course, the farwatchers had seen the acursed trees blocking the track ahead just in time, despite the low visibility in the storm, but it was a pain all the same, and the engineers cursed the cold season once again as they prepared to exit the relative comfort of the locomotive.
No matter how many times an Inithari walked out into this frigid wasteland- no matter how many layers of clothing stood between him and the frost, the wind always made you feel as if icicles like needles pierced your skin from all sides. It was not long after the three men had moved the first of the trees off the tracks and already they felt exhausted – grizzled men that had worked in the confines of Kona Town for months already weakened by the weather, and despite the heaters no less! Atu cleared the snow that had fallen onto his cowl in this short while. The other two seemed even more distraught – no doubt beset by a hangover; he could see by what little of Manoa’s eyes showed through their masks. He yelled to the man so as to be heard through the storm, muffled by a thick scarf.
“You need not squint so much, Manoa!”
“I’m angry, Atu. When I’m angry, I squint!”
“Yes, I know, you also grind your teeth!”
“No I don’t!”, he said a bit more quietly- the three now closer together so as to be heard more easily and, at least among themselves, for warmth.
Tahwiti decided to capitalize on this obvious lie- “Of course not! And I don’t speak Inithari.”
Now Atu reminded them calmly of the issue at hand: “Well whatever the case-“, Atu ignored Manoa’s attempts at a comeback, accentuating the last part of the sentence, “- I understand you’d both love for nothing more than to retire, but for all the grumbling, this is our job now.” A morning of convincing them to join in the affair had soiled his mood, even before the eventual excursions outside, and one would never leave the colony without the other. ’You can’t leave him in the same spot as my Mahake, Atu! And the other… He’s had his eye on my wife ever since the landing, and now he’s leering at my daughter, Atu! I swear, my friend, I swear!’
Manoa replied tactfully, “All I want, chief, is for us to get our asses back to Kona Town before a damn Pact demon blows us to kingdom come. Well if it weren’t for the Engineering Fellowship…” Indeed. Had it not allowed its engineers to ferry along their families, Atu was sure they’d have strangled each other by now.
Tahwiti was the first to break off and inevitably the rest soon followed. Their spirits restored, they had managed to get the rest of the felled trees onboard the train for supplies at their destination – material for everything from furniture to the inside of vehicles – and continued along their way.
The work of Atu and a dozen others like him would prove pivotal for Inithar’s ability to remain in these lands for long. Ever since the landing, the Expeditionary effort has grown exponentially- pressed on by the matters at stake and fuelled by the tight, although cold, at times, cooperation between the Fellowships. Having rightfully identified the danger of ever dropping temperatures, proper snow fences and heating units were placed along strategic railways during the summer to allow for the transport of resources to the factories of the main colony, and makeshift snowploughs like the Kepuala constructed to maintain them through-out the season. Of course- this was the minimum needed to keep the colony ticking, for if the flow of materials were to stop, the flagship and the supplies could only keep them alive for so long. Work was hard out in the wastes, and ever harder as the Cold season advanced.
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Topic: Mechanized Warfare: Inithar Thread / Final Phase, 1941 Cold Season (Read 38346 times)