By A.S. MacKenzie
“Fitzsimmons, your telemetry is a little off. Seems your pulse rate spiked and we’re not sure whether your suit is malfunctioning or you’re in distress. Which is it?”
No reply came through the speakers in the control hub. Commander Davis put their hand out against the hub wall to steady themselves and leaned into the little gooseneck mic sticking out of the front of the radio unit.
“Fitzsimmons, I really need you to answer. Your pulse, respiratory, oxygen count, and BP are all over the place. Are you in distress? Please come in.”
Again, no reply.
With a frustrated sigh, Commander Davis let go of their hold on the wall and floated backwards to the entrance of the control hub. After thirty-two weeks in orbit, their control of movement in the zero-gravity environment was fluid and precise. Davis hunched their shoulders and passed between the control hub and the habitation unit without bumping anything and continued down to the portside window. Once there, Davis grabbed a hand-hold, pressing their face to the window, then said aloud, “Fitzy, what are you doing? Answer me, you’re freaking me out…”
Davis spent a few more minutes looking out the window to see if a glimpse of their crewmate could be spotted amongst the infinite black backdrop. Since the window was on the opposite side of the craft, facing Earth, there was nothing to block the view of the depths of space. Davis tried not to look out there too often. The sun’s light meant seeing stars was very difficult, so the view was nothing but perfectly black space.
Moving back to the control hub, the mission commander took a moment to glance down the connecting hatchway to the lab and storage areas. The noise of someone in the lab, working on one of the many experiments in their care, was the only sound heard. Davis thought about calling down to them to look out their windows for a sign of Fitzsimmons, but a glance to the impromptu Halloween decorations they had put up together kept the words from coming out. Davis loved how even though two of their six crew members weren’t from the Western side of the world, they’d quickly jumped into the holiday spirit and helped hang the decorations. The decorations weren’t spooky, more cheesy in Davis’ opinion, but it made for good fun and built morale. Seeing the decorations now put a pit in Davis’s stomach as they thought about Fitzy and their lack of response. As mission commander it was their job to make sure everyone was safe, morale was high, and the work was flawless. Well, they knew it couldn’t be flawless, but it was still a goal.
As the commander started debating internally about whether to involve the others in looking for their crewmate, a fast screech of static came over the radio. Startled just enough to lose some balance and bounce into the wall, Davis flung a hand against the edge of the frame to stop from getting a nasty bump on the head. With a mumbled curse, Davis pushed off the wall and floated straight back to the radio.
The screech sounded again as they reached for the ‘call’ button and in that noise, Davis could swear they heard a voice say something. No idea what, but it sounded like when someone at a concert tried to speak to you from a couple of feet away and you were certain they were speaking but couldn’t make out the words. It was like that while being surrounded by static.
Smashing their finger down on the ‘call’ button, Commander Davis said a little louder than they wanted, “Fitzsimmons, are you there? Is that you? Come in, please. Your transmission is—”
The words caught in Davis’s throat. A glance at the screen showing Fitzsimmons’s biological telemetry while in the EVA suit displayed a body in peril. BP was tanking, pulse rate was high and climbing, and O2 saturation and breath rate were so erratic they weren’t sure the machine was reading anything correctly.
“Kkkzzzzzz-avis, come-kkkzzzzhhhhzzzz-ime is up! Need t-zzhhhzz-cuate and escape now!-kkkkzzhhhssszzzz”
“Fitzsimmons!” the commander yelled into the mic. “I can’t read you, say again! I repeat, say again!”
“Kkkkkksssshhhhsssssssszzzzzzzzzzztt—” The radio made that noise, then stopped. The only sound coming through the radio was steady breathing. Not hard or laborious breathing, or even overly exerted breathing. Just steady, well-timed breaths. The commander stared at the speaker for a moment, wondering if they were hearing things. Then they glanced over to the telemetry readout of Fitzsimmons’s suit. All numbers were at zero. No breath, no pulse, nothing.
“F-F-F-Fitzy? Your suit may have a problem. Need you to come in, OK? Please. Now. Please come in.”
The breathing continued for a few more moments, unchanging in pitch, speed, or tempo. Just when Davis thought that was all there was going to be, they jumped when a new noise came in over the speaker.
“No problem, Commander Davis. No problem. No problem, Commander Davis.”
The voice sounded like Fitzy’s, but it was devoid of emotion. The repeat even carried the exact same inflection as the first. As if it were a recording being played back. Letting go of the handhold, Davis floated backwards and bumped into the opposite wall, never taking eyes off the speaker.
The voice that sounded enough like Fitzsimmons, but not quite exactly, spoke again.
“Commander Davis. Commander Davis. Davis. Davis. Commander Davis. Fine now. Need to return. Return. Return to inside. Inside.”
Davis jumped and yelped at the words. So preoccupied with the voice coming over the speaker, they didn’t notice Hodgins come up to the control hub’s entrance.
“You alright, Davis? What the hell is going on with Fitzy?”
Commander Davis didn’t say anything to the flight officer but pointed at the screen showing Fitzsimmons’s vital statistics.
Hodgins floated over to the display and stared for a few moments, then turned to the commander and asked, “What is this? What aren’t you telling us?”
“Who is not telling us something?” a voice with a thick Swahili accent asked from the entrance. Dr. Obonyo pushed their head into the hub and looked worried at the sight of Davis. “Commander, are you alright? Has something happened to Fitzsimmons?”
“He…He…I…I…don’t know…” Davis said, their eyes darting now between the speaker and the display.
“Fitzsimmons to return to the inside. To the inside. Fitzsimmons to return. Return. To the inside.”
The three stared at the speaker, then Hodgins reached over, pushed down on the mic and said, “Fitzy, it’s Hodgins. What’s going on out there? You feeling alright?”
“Inside. Inside. Inside. Inside. Inside. Inside. Inside. Return. Inside. Inside. Inside. Inside.”
“Why’s everyone crowding in there?” Another voice in the habitat area called out behind Dr. Obonyo.
Dr. Obonyo turned to see Goodwin and Dr. LeClaire floating up from their shared lab space and said, “No idea, but I think something is going on outside with Fitzsimmons.”
Davis took a couple of deep breaths and reminded themselves that they were the Mission Commander of this operation. It was up to them to see this through and to keep their mission successful and the staff safe. With a resolute nod, Davis turned and motioned for Dr. Obonyo to move back and for Hodgins to follow. Once everyone was in the habitat hub they said, “OK, so something is going on with Fitzy— Fitzsimmons…they’re outside and I don’t know what is going on exactly.”
Hodgins’s expression took a serious turn as Davis expected from someone who had spent so much time in the military and was used to unexpected events and how to handle them. The others, all scientists and engineers, were not former military and were expressing confusion while starting to speak over each other. Davis knew this was how panic spread and knew now was the time to stop it.
“Enough!” Davis said. The crew stopped speaking and looked at their commander.
“OK, I don’t know what’s going on, but I think we need to approach this carefully. Fitzsimmons is out on a sanctioned EVA. Their telemetry data is inconsistent with what we are hearing over the radio, namely the fact that Fitzsimmons is speaking and their data shows them to have no life functions. Obviously, there is a disconnect or glitch here and we will find it. In the meantime, we have a potentially medically disoriented astronaut outside this vessel in need of attention. Now, ideas on what steps to take next?”
The four around Davis exchanged glances, confusion etched on some. The two who’d come from the lab started chuckling and Dr. LeClaire said in French, “Très drôle, beau essai. Good joke, Commander.”
Davis looked at them. “What?”
“Is Halloween joke, yes? You make fun joke to scare us for the Halloween holiday, yes?”
Goodwin jumped in. “Has to be, right? This is just some joke to play to get us in the holiday spirit. You had me going, Commander. Honestly didn’t think you had it in you.”
A hand on their shoulder spun Davis around to look at a red-faced Hodgins. “Is that what this is, Commander? A joke? A damned joke?”
“What? No, of course not! I don’t know what’s going on! Fitzsimmons is—”
“A Halloween joke! Is that what is done in America?” Dr. Obonyo asked Goodwin. “Do they do pranks like this?”
Goodwin laughed and said, “Oh, yeah, my brother used to scare the daylights out of us on Halloween.”
Commander Davis spun from person to person, seeing the laughter in three and anger in one. They felt their hold on the situation getting away from them.
“Everyone shut up!”
All the faces turned back to Davis’s and saw the seriousness in their expression.
“This, and I am only going to say this once, is not a joke. We are wasting time and need to see what we can do to get Fitzsimmons back in here safel—”
Davis’s words were cut off by a loud thud on the habitat’s wall, followed almost immediately by a second, then a third. Hodgins scrambled as best they could in the lack of gravity to a viewing window nearby. Pressing a face up to it, they looked around to find the source of the noise.
“There!” They pointed to the side, out of sight. “It’s Fitzy…what?”
“What is it?” Commander Davis asked, pushing up to Hodgins and getting them out of the way so they could look. Scanning in the direction Hodgins pointed, Davis saw the back of the EVA suit floating next to the habitat wall a few meters away. Fitzsimmons’s suit hung there motionless for a moment before the tiny jets in the suit that allowed for movement in the environment spurted from the front. The suit floated back quickly and pulled taught against the lead that was shackled from Fitzy’s suit to the side of their vessel. The snap of the restriction caused the suit to propel towards the hull, quickly. Another round of jets fired, but this time from the back of the suit, accelerating it into the wall with a resounding thud. Without pausing, the suit manoeuvred to do the same movements again.
Davis launched from the window and pushed themselves to the command hub, pressing the mic key the moment it was in reach.
“Fitzsimmons, stop that. You are going to damage yourself and this ship. Stop at once!”
When Davis let go of the mic button, the speakers immediately played the reply. “Inside. Inside. Inside. Inside. Commander Davis. No problem. Inside”
They were about to speak into the mic again when Goodwin yelled, “Commander! Come see this!”
Davis returned to the hub with the other crew members. They were two apiece at the two windows near where Fitzsimmons had been seen. As Davis made to say something, another thump reverberated in the wall. Goodwin turned away from the window to Davis and said, “I don’t think this is a prank, Commander.” The look in Goodwin’s eyes was not something Davis could pinpoint as either scared, upset, or some combination.
“What is it? What’s Fitzy doing?”
“He’s not doing it, Commander…” Goodwin’s voice trailed off as they turned back to the window.
“What, dammit?!” Davis asked impatiently.
Dr. LeClaire said beside Goodwin, “Commander, we don’t believe Fitzsimmons is doing this. That is to say, the suit is…ummm, dénué…ahhh, empty.”
Davis cocked their head, sure they misheard or Dr. LeClaire misinterpreted the intended word.
“Empty? What are you talking about?”
“Commander, come look. It’s…easier…to see on this side,” Hodgins said as they floated back from the window. Dr. Obonyo followed, allowing Davis a clear look out the window.
Floating over to it, Davis saw Fitzsimmons in the same place they’d seen them earlier. “What? What are you…” Davis’s words trailed off as something caught the light and flashed. “What…?” Davis asked.
Watching for a few more moments as the suit repeated its flinging manoeuvre against the hull, Davis saw what had made the flash. Alongside the rear section, under the left arm, where the suit meets the equipment holding the life support and other functions, was a flap of metallic material. It was floating freely in the lack of atmosphere and would occasionally catch the light and reflect it back. The flap was what confused the commander. There was nothing on the outside of the suit to—
Davis gasped and held a hand to their mouth.
Looking up to the suit’s helmet, Davis saw that the sun reflector was retracted, not uncommon when working in the shade of the planet. However, they hadn’t noticed before that what Davis initially thought was just the black reflection of deep space in the glass-like material was, in fact, the darkness of an empty helmet. The flap of material was from the interior lining of the suit where it had ripped out when Fitzsimmons was…ejected…taken…forced…Davis wasn’t sure what to call it. Regardless, this was an empty suit now trying, repeatedly, to smash its way into the vessel.
The crew jumped when a burst of static blared through the speaker in the command hub.
“Ffffzzzzggghhhhzzzzzzssssttt-ommander! Commander Davis! Help-ffffffgggggsszzztttt—me please! It’s got m-ssszzzzzgghhhhsssttt-et away! Evacuate! Evacu-ffffsfsffsssssgggzzhhh”
The crew members stared into the command hub, not saying a word.
The next noise was a thump from the wall and then a voice from the speaker that still sounded like Fitzy.
“Commander. No problem. Inside. Commander. Davis. Inside. Inside. Inside. Inside.”
“Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on?” Goodwin yelled.
“We have to remain calm. There must be a reasonable explanation for this,” Dr. Obonyo said.
“Reasonable?” Dr. LeClaire said with a mirthless chuckle. “An astronaut was taken from their suit and that suit is now trying to come inside. That sound reasonable, mes ami?”
Hodgins pointed at Davis. “What was he doing out there?”
“Routine work. Just checking the solar collectors before we pass into the sun again. Fitzy said there was something keeping one of the collector arms from extending all the way. Went out there to check the servos and said it was caught on something. Then…” Davis gestured to the window and the suit beyond. “…all this happened.”
“So you don’t know what went on out there?”
It wasn’t difficult for Davis to pick up the accusatory tone of Hodgins’s question.
“No,” Davis replied with as stern a voice as they could muster. “No, I don’t. We don’t exactly have great views outside up here. I rely on my astronauts to dictate their actions and then their suit records their work independently. If that suit could be brought inside we could maybe see what happened.”
Davis whipped around to Dr. Obonyo, who was glancing back out the window.
“Where is Fitzsimmons?” the doctor asked again. “Why is their suit there, but they aren’t. And we just heard the voice on the radio.”
“I don’t think that was Fitzy’s voice…” Goodwin said in a small voice.
Dr. Obonyo nodded. “Yes, I know. Not the smooth voice, but the one in the static. That was Fitzsimmons, yes? Why did we hear that?”
“I have no idea. I have no idea about any of this. I need to let Houston know about…this.”
Davis returned to the command hub, realizing that the sound of Fitzy’s suit hitting the wall had become so expected, it hadn’t even registered that it had been happening continuously while they were speaking. Shaking the thought from their mind and concentrating on what exactly could be said to Ground Control about this situation was a challenge.
“Ground, this is Independence One. Have a situation and require advisement, over.”
Davis waited for the response that was typically a few seconds in lag, but none came.
Davis’s brow furrowed. “Ground, this is Independence One. Do you copy? Have a situation here, please come back.”
Few more seconds and no reply.
“What the…?” Davis asked and went to the station that allowed the crew to send files, information, and notations to the ground crew. Davis pulled the keyboard forward then typed a short message to Ground detailing their situation and that they could not hear a response.
Waiting for a few moments after what Davis expected would be an immediate reply, they started to type out another message while glancing at the radio status display just to the left. It showed they had a radio signal connection as well as a broadband data connection. After hitting send again, Davis waited for the reply.
Leaning towards the habitat, Davis called out, “Goodwin, you have a connection to the ground in your lab, correct?”
“Yes?” came a confused reply.
“Need you to go and see if you can reach anyone there. Not getting anything on the official channels.”
“You can’t reach anyone?” Goodwin called back, the edge of panic in their voice.
“Stay calm, we don’t know they can’t hear us. Please, just go check.”
Davis tried once more to type a message to control and still received nothing in return. When they were about to reach for the radio, they stopped. They didn’t realize it for a few moments, but there was something missing.
Poking back into the habitat, Davis asked, “What’s the suit doing?”
Both Hodgins and Dr. Obonyo were speaking in low tones to each other and stopped when Davis appeared. Hodgins said, “Um, no idea. Hold one moment.”
While Hodgins went to the window, Davis noticed Dr. LeClaire wasn’t there and assumed they’d gone with Goodwin to the lab to try communications there.
“Commander,” Hodgins said, frantically panning the space outside the window. “It’s gone. I don’t see it.”
“You don’t see it?” Davis asked while launching themselves as fast as they could to the window. “Where did it go?”
Hodgins didn’t answer and Davis knew it was because they had no idea, either.
“Are these bad luck?” Dr. Obonyo asked.
Davis turned from the window. “Are what bad luck?”
Pointing to the Halloween decorations, which included a full size skeleton that drifted lazily on its post in the artificial climate-control breeze, Dr. Obonyo said, “In many cultures images of the dead are at times bad omens and will only make the gods angry. Is that what happened? Did we make a god angry with these decorations?”
Davis was about to respond that no, these weren’t bad luck because they weren’t real. There were no such things as the stuff they decorated with on Halloween. No ghosts, goblins, or the like. But, they didn’t get the chance. An alarm ringing from the command hub got all their attention and Davis rushed back to see what was the issue.
On the display that showed the status of their vessel, a message blinked in the upper right corner:
Tapping the alarm message brought up a more detailed description of the problem along with a map showing where on the vessel the problem lies. It was on the door to the airlock where Fitzy had gone out less than an hour before.
Hodgins who had squeezed in behind Davis, saw the message, and swore loudly. “It’s trying to get in!”
Without waiting for orders from Davis, Hodgins sped as quickly as they could down the passage to the bay where the other EVA suits waited in their strapped locations and where the door to the airlock was currently blinking red. The red light was there to signify that an astronaut had exited but had not returned. The door on the opposite side of the airlock buckled slightly as something hit it hard on the other side.
Dr. Obonyo had followed behind Hodgins and yelled, “Put air in the airlock! The pressure may keep it from breaking!”
“No!” Goodwin yelled, coming from the lab. “You do that and Fitzsimmons will never get back in! The airlock only works if everyone is on this side!”
“We don’t want it to get in here!” Hodgins yelled, their face a mask of red.
“How do we know Fitzy is really gone? How do we know he isn’t just slumped into the suit and passed out? Could be his suit is malfunctioning and—”
“Malfunctioning! That’s what you’re going with?” Hodgins asked incredulously.
“Don’t yell at me! I’m just saying the suit might be following some sort of safe return protocol, and it needs us to help get Fitzy back in here to help them.”
“That does not exist,” Dr. Obonyo said, wearily. “The suit can’t know how to return. It isn’t autonomous in any way.”
“Mes ami! Please stop. We can be rational about this!” Dr. LeClaire interjected, coming behind Goodwin.
“Shut up! Shut Up!” Davis yelled. “Hodgins, re-pressurize the airlock.”
“What?” Goodwin yelled. “You’re going to leave Fitzsimmons out there to die!”
Davis looked Goodwin directly in the eye and said, “I know. I have no choice. The safety of the vessel is paramount.”
“But this is a human being who is injured and needs our help.”
“You’re saying that like they’re still in there,” Hodgins spat back. “Fitzsimmons is gone.”
Goodwin moved to block Hodgins from the controls but Davis reached forward and pushed them aside, causing the two to bounce away from each other.
“You’ll kill him!” Goodwin yelled and lunged for the controls.
Dr. LeClaire and Dr. Obonyo grabbed at Goodwin and pulled them out of the space. As they rounded the corner Goodwin continued yelling that Hodgins was going to kill Fitzsimmons.
With a slightly shaky hand hovering over the controls to the airlock, Hodgins paused and took a deep breath and let it out. “Commander, is this the right thing to do?”
The question shocked Davis who always viewed Hodgins as a by-the-book astronaut, unafraid to make any hard call the dangerous and tumultuous space missions could bring.
“Yes, now as an order…pressurize the airlock.”
Hodgins looked at Davis and gave a silent thanks for the order. Davis knew it would allow Hodgins not to feel the guilt of leaving Fitzsimmons out there, or at least not as much of it.
The red light stopped blinking and a green light shone steady in its place, signifying the airlock had been pressurized.
The steady thump of Fitzsimmons’s suit on the Airlock door continued but the door didn’t budge and the sound was hollow. Hodgins and Davis made their way out and headed back to the habitat but stopped along the way when Hodgins asked, “What was that?”
Davis was about to ask what, but heard it, too. A groan and a loud “No!” came from the lab. The two turned and went inside the room.
Goodwin was floating in the middle of the lab, curled into a ball with their hands tightly wrapped around their face. Dr. Obonyo swayed while watching two large red globules float in front of them. Dr. LeClaire was ripping an aluminium foil packet open and frantically grabbing the gauze inside. Hodgins and Davis watched as they then took that gauze and pressed it hard against Dr. Obonyo’s clavicle, who didn’t seem to notice as their attention was focused on the globules.
“What…?” Davis asked.
Before a reply came, Goodwin uncoiled from their ball shape and flexed their limbs wide. Spinning in the air, they turned to Hodgins and Davis. They both gasped, eyes wide.
Goodwin was floating in front of them, a jagged piece of aluminium shielding torn from the lab table in their hand. Most of it, down to the pointed end, was covered in red. Davis realized in an instant it was the same red as what floated in front of Dr. Obonyo. However, the thing that was most upsetting about Goodwin was the two large black spaces where their eyes should be. It wasn’t like the eyes were missing and they were seeing Goodwin’s ocular cavity. It was as if two small black holes had formed there and all light fell inside.
“Inside. Commander Davis. Inside,” Goodwin said, in the same even inflection as the radio had.
“Merde! Help, please!” Dr. LeClaire yelled. Dr. Obonyo had grown very pale and was slumping down under the pressure of the gauze application. Two more large red globules floated upward from them.
Hodgins lunged forward to take the shard of aluminium from Goodwin but the scientist turned so effortlessly in the lack of gravity, it made Davis freeze. None of them had been able to move that well. Ever. Now, Goodwin moved as if they had only ever known a lack of gravity. The spinning deflection continued around and the shard plunged into Hodgins’s back, disappearing. The thing that was Goodwin didn’t stop and continued in their arc pushing Hodgins to the far wall where the point that had erupted from his front buried itself into a cabinet. More red hung in the air as Hodgins limply tried to reach the shard in his back.
Goodwin wasted no time and pushed off Hodgins’s hip, flew through the lab, grabbed Dr. LeClaire by the hair and pushed them into another cabinet. The sound of their head hitting the cabinet made Davis’s stomach lurch. Dr. Obonyo, no longer held up by the other doctor simply sank to the floor.
Davis pushed backwards and scrambled as fast as they could down the access towards the command hub. They managed to make it in just as what used to be Goodwin entered the habitat. Davis reached over and slammed their hand on the access panel button, and a short wall fell in place between them.
Goodwin came up to the small window in the panel and said, “Commander. Inside. Inside. Commander.”
“What are you?!” Davis yelled, fighting back the hysteria that threatened to overtake them.
The face on the other side, with those impossible black holes, titled slightly and said, “Our home. Commander. Our home. Forever our home. Not your home. Not your home. You go home. Now. Now. Now. You go home.”
Shadows crossed behind Goodwin, and Davis could see Dr. LeClaire and Dr. Obonyo. Both had the same black holes where their eyes should be. Davis watched as they crossed to the far side of the habitat, incredibly using their hands to rip a shelf in half before using the sharp, torn edges to hack against the vessel’s wall. The face of Goodwin watched Davis for a few moments as Davis yelled to get them to stop.
“Go home. Commander. Go home. Commander. We are home. You go home.”
Davis yelled, “Stop, please! What is wrong with you?! What is wrong with you?!”
The radio squawked loudly with a half-second of static then Fitzsimmons’s voice came through.
“We are home. We are home. You go home. You go home. Never come back. Never come back. Never come back.”
Before Davis could ask another question, alarms rang heavily in the hub. Warning lights and messages on the display about another pending breach. Looking around, Davis watched everything they were in charge of, failing and falling apart. They had failed as commander. They had lost to whatever it was that wanted them gone.
Just as Davis was about to ask Goodwin what that meant, they heard a short, sharp whistle before their world went violent and freezing. Davis felt pulled, along with the panel that had blocked them from Goodwin, out through the habitat module and out into the black. The freeze came so fast Davis barely registered that there were three others out there with them.
“Oh my God…” Ground Commander Tannert said as he watched the feed showing Independence One falling in pieces towards the atmosphere.
Ground Command had watched for a while through a repositioned keyhole satellite that was re-tasked after being unable to regain the lost communication with the vessel, and were now standing in stunned silence as four bodies jettisoned from the vessel and all manner of materials floated outward. They were on a trajectory to reach the atmosphere in a few moments and Tannert knew there would be nothing left as they reentered. He watched as the bodies made their way through the first layers of the atmosphere, along with the interior components of the vessel, and what appeared to be some decorative Halloween skeletons.
A. S. MacKenzie
A. S. MacKenzie is an Atlanta based author who loves all things books, movies, games, and comics. He lives with his wife, spoiled dogs, and an unhealthy obsession with building things. He can be found building worlds in books, building plastic models, or building with wood. Check out his website at asmackenzie.com for ways to join his newsletter and read free stories. Also, he’s been known to frequent Twitter (@a_s_mackenzie) to say something vaguely interesting and Instagram (a.s.mackenzie) for food, travel, and random pics.
Ice Where There Was None
A block of ice in a Florida park. A victim posed inside.
The first officers on the scene struggle to maintain the melting evidence.
Then it happens again.
…and again….and again…
While the officers wonder why they are always the first on scene, their department begins to wonder the same.
You can claim a copy of Ice Where There Was None via A.S. MacKenzie’s library