Women of War by Alexander Potter

retrieve her. Disgraced.
    Skalet dropped to the ground as the wind caught its breath, then drove herself to her feet. If she failed for whatever reason, Her Eminence had another option. She could destroy the outpost and all the talented, complicated beings in it, including herself. Wasteful.
    It was only a question of one step after another. This form would obey her will. It would endure. Skalet pulled her right hand, now clad only in the liner, within the sleeve of her innermost coat, shoving the cuff through her belt as tightly as possible. She would need those fingers able to function once at the ladder.
    Her goggles were coated with snow, despite the fur trim around her hood. No matter. What use were eyes without light? She leaned into the wind again, trusting to the cable. One step after another, a movement that grew only more difficult as she lost feeling below her knees. No matter. She could not control time or the movement of starships, but she could control this body. It would succeed.
    At some point, the howl dimmed to a whine and the force pushing her back lessened. Skalet smiled, lips cracking, blood burning her chin. She had reached the array.
    The clip had frozen shut. Rather than waste energy fighting it, Skalet drew her knife and cut the cable around her waist. She staggered and caught herself with a grip on the ladder as the wind tried to peel her away again. The climb was a nightmare. Not only were the lower rungs half-buried in a rising drift, but she could not longer judge where her feet would land. Three times Skalet neared the top, only to lose her grip and slip back down.
    Once on the platform, she didn’t bother looking for the ice-breaking tools. Skalet felt her way down the nearest strut to its linkage with the rest, found the fastener. She drew her knife once more, then shook her head. No traces. Even if House Bryll was as devastated as the courier implied, there would be an investigation. Like other Humans, the Kraal were curious, tenacious beings. Unlike other Humans, the Kraal took the assignment of fault to extremes. For the crew of this outpost to outlive their doomed fleet, this had to appear an accident.
    Skalet put away her knife and pulled off the outer glove on her left hand, securing it in her belt. Her fingers turned numb almost immediately, but she managed to grip the fastener and twist. It was meant to be mobile to minus seventy degrees Celsius, so the antenna could be replaced at need. It wouldn’t budge.
    Cursing substandard equipment, Skalet stripped off her liner and the other glove, restraining a cry as the wind seemed to flay her skin. She pressed both palms around the fastener, warming it with her own, slightly greater than Human, heat. The core of her body seemed to chill at the same time, a dangerous theft. Skalet fought to hold form as much as she fought to keep her hands where they had to stay.
    Another twist. Nothing. She screamed in fury and drove her fist into the metal, feeling a knuckle break, but something else give as well. Satisfaction. Another twist and the fastener came free.
    By now, Skalet’s hands were shaking so violently she could barely get them back into the gloves. She couldn’t feel any difference with the protection on, but knew it was necessary. Form-memory was perfect. If she lost fingers to frostbite, she’d remember herself that way forever. She refused to believe it might be too late.
    Meanwhile, the wind, now her ally, was busy at work. The strut creaked and groaned, succumbing to the force hammering it. Skalet touched the support, feeling irregular shudders. Good. It would take only the slightest of bends to make the antenna uncontrollable. As if hearing her thoughts, the strut snapped and the array began to tilt.
    The outpost—and the fleet—was blind.
    Time to leave. Skalet made her way back down the ladder, groping in the dark with her left hand for the guide line. The right she’d drawn inside her coat completely,