Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #13 April 2015 | Page 159

Rosie Oliver: Rosie is a mathematician turned engineer via being a scientist! She has had
several short stories published in various magazines, including a robot-cat (C.A.T.) series
by TWB Press, and is expecting another short story to appear in Ian Sales’ anthology,
Aphrodite Terra. The except is from the first chapter of a novel that is work in progress.
Website: http://rosieoliver.wordpress.com/

Chapter 1
“Dust to dust, void to void, ice to ice,” Priest Kylone
intoned over the spacesuit comms, bending his staff to
form an L.
He positioned its horizontal bar inside the open grave
above Raoul Larsson’s head. A fine spray of holy
water spurted, some vaporising towards the blue-green
orb of Uranus and some jetting down onto the shrinkwrapped body. With the ease of a native Mirandan, he
skim-walked along the side of the grave, covering the
body with a sheet of whitened ice.
Alva stared at the sculpture of her ice-shrouded husband. She felt as if she was not there, while walking,
seeing, breathing and being in a numbed nightmare.
The ice let her see a hint of his blond hair and a vague
outline of his blue one-piece silk. That was all. An
hour ago she had touched his waxy translucent skin,
caressed his hair and kissed his cheek. Now, he was
beyond her reach.
Someone hugged her. She looked down on silver
gloves curving round her arms. With the third finger
shorter than the index finger, it was probably a man.
It could be one of the miners or her brother, Vaclav. It
did not matter. He, whoever he was, meant well. She
did not, could not feel his kindness. She wanted to, but
she was numbed against feeling emotion.
The hands gently pressed to turn her away from the

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grave.
She had to stay. She could not desert Raoul here in the
ice. She stood still.
“Come on, Sis. Let’s get you back inside,” Vaclav
said.
Tears slipped into her eyes. Her sight blurred. Raoul
wavered behind a watery film, before disappearing
from view. Her world shrank into a deep hole of
wretchedness. Tears welled up from it and overflowed
into thick rivers to stream down her cheeks. She
sobbed, shaking her shoulders and squeezing her eyes
ever tighter.
Blue-green light from Uranus pushed its way through
her eyelids, forcing itself on her awareness. This nuisance weighed like a heavy burden, one that she could
not cope with now. She threw her hands up to her face
to block the light. They hit her faceplate. She had to let
the tears fall, flooding her face and dripping down off
her chin to soak the collar of her silk.
Her brother had moved his arms to steady her shoulders and keep her firmly, yet gently on the ice. She
wanted Raoul to cuddle her in the flesh and say everything was all right. He was gone, lost to her, forever.
She shivered, not from cold, but the lack of warmth
from skin contact and comforting smell of humans.
There was only the callous machine scented air and
plastic feel of the suit. Yet it was here, protecting her
from the vacuum of space and letting her feel safe.