“Somehow,” came the reply. “Butler is unconscious and we’re pinned
down. The ledge is on the point of collapsing. The only thing holding it is
the debris. If we brush that aside to get out . ..”
They were alive, then, at least. Trapped but alive. A plan, they needed
a plan. Holly found herself strangely calm. This was one of the qualities
that made her such an excellent field agent. In times of excessive stress,
Captain Short had the ability to seize upon a course of action. Often the
only viable course. In the combat simulation for her captain’s exam, Holly
had defeated insurmountable virtual enemies by blasting the projector.
Technically she had defeated all her enemies, so the panel had to pass her.
Holly spoke into her helmet mike.
“Commander, undo Butler’s Moonbelt and strap yourselves on. I’m
going to haul you both out of there.”
“Roger, Holly. Do you need a piton?”
“If you can get one out to me.”
“Standby.”
A piton dart jetted through a gap in the icy bars, landing a foot from
Holly’s boots. The dart trailed a length of fine cord.
Holly snapped the piton into the cord receptacle on her own belt,
making sure there were no kinks in the line. Meanwhile Artemis had
dragged himself from the drift.
“This plan is patently ridiculous,” he said, brushing the snow from his
sleeves. “You cannot hope to drag their combined weight with sufficient
velocity to both break the icicles and avoid being crushed.”
“I’m not going to drag them,” snapped Holly.
“Well, then, what is?”
Captain Short pointed down the track. There was a green train
winding its way toward them.
“That is,” she said.
…

The piton cord was slapping against the carriage. Only seconds left
before Holly departed from the train as quickly as she’d arrived. The LEP
captain searched for a strongpoint to anchor herself. Root and Butler’s
weight may have been reduced, but the jerk, when it came, would be more
than sufficient to drag her from the locomotive. And if that happened, it
was all over.
Holly hooked one arm through an external rung, wrapping slim
fingers around her wrist. She noticed magical sparks playing over a rip in
her suit. They were counteracting the radiation damage. How much longer
could her magic last under these conditions? onstant healing really took
it out of a girl. She needed to complete the power-restoring Ritual. And the
sooner the better.
Holly was about to unclip the cable and attach it to one of the rungs
when it snapped taut, pulling her legs from beneath her. She held on
grimly to the rung, fingernails digging into her own skin. On reflection,
this plan needed a bit of work. Time seemed to stretch, elastic as the cord,
and for a moment, Holly thought her elbow would pop right out of its
socket. Then the ice gave, and Root and Butler were twanged out of their
icy tomb like bolts from a crossbow.
They slapped against the side of the train, their reduced weight
keeping them aloft, for now. But it was only a matter of time before what
little gravity they had pushed them under the steel wheels.
…

Artemis glanced at the Arctic landscape whipping past outside the
carriage. Getting off the train wasn’t as easy as the commander made it
sound.
Butler dropped nimbly through the overhead hatch, where he’d been
keeping an eye on the goblin hit squad. “Nice to see you’re so
limber,” commented Artemis dryly. The manservant smile.“ Good to see
you, too, Artemis.”

-The Arctic Incident, Chapters 8 and 9