Free North Wind by Gwyneth Jones

trust me out there, Bella. I’m on your side. Truly. Remember that.”
    They stepped out of the womb of stone.
    He sat her down to put the shoes on. She’d tried, but she couldn’t seem to manage it. Their so-called “baseball boots” gave you no idea of how odd an Aleutian foot was. Bella’s foot was broad in the ball, ridiculously narrow in the heel, and had a kind of lockable arch. Her clawed toes were as long as fingers, and heavily padded underneath. He worked the one-size plastics in his hands ’til they were soft. When he tried to ease them on, he discovered that her pads were raw and bloody. He looked up, appalled. They felt pain, the same as humans.
    “Why didn’t you say?”
    
    “Don’t worry. I can carry you.”
    He dropped the honor cloak over her and picked up the whole bundle. She was no heavier than a six year old child, but he was very tired. They got down the hill with frequent halts. He kept to the trees as long as possible, though he was fairly sure the skies were empty. The Aleutians were terrified of flying eyes, bugs, spy-satellites. It was ironic. The humans thought the aliens read their thoughts. The aliens were convinced that humans watched and listened to every move they made. He wished he didn’t have to take her through the hotel ruins. He put her down outside the stable, so she wouldn’t have to see the droms. She’d been fond of them.
    “Wait there and see what I found!”
    The jeep had not been a hallucination. It was solid, untouched under its shroud of Aleutian-tarp. The darling machine started first time. There was easily six hundred klicks level driving in the discrete energy stack. Sid dropped his head on his hands, tearful with gratitude. Then, suddenly inspired, he groped in the deep shelf under the dash. He found a pack of stale chocolate biscuits, and a full two liter canteen. “Well, thank you little Sid,” he breathed. Little Sid had an ingrained habit of tucking supplies away. “Thank you, my rotten childhood!”
    The jeep crawled out of the stable, silent and lightless. Sid jumped out, elated. “How about that! And look here: food. Water!”
    Bella was staring at the place where the main hall had been. His stomach churned in sympathy. “Don’t think about it,” he told her. “It’s over. They’re safe home, waiting for their next turn.”
    It was what she believed.
    
    He saw the large pallid figure, moving behind one of the rags of the burned dome. “A suit!,” he whispered, numb with shock. He pulled out the revolver. “Stay here.”
    The bulky doll moved lightly over the ruins, stooping and rising like a feeding bird. Sid followed, feeling dizzy; lightheaded. He couldn’t tell if it had anyone on board or not: the gait was smooth. Either way, its sophisticated senses must find Sid’s trail, of this morning or last night. It would find the Aleutian clothes in the cistern cave. If he didn’t stop it from searching, whoever had sent it would know that one of the aliens had survived here. He saw it raise its big head, with a listening air. He’d been spotted. He was a warm moving manikin in its fields of perception.
    He ran and hid in the disk works. The walls were blackened but standing. They held the shape of Aleutian utility architecture, knotted and lumpy as if woven from tree-roots. Sid let the suit take a step inside, and dropped from his perch above the doorway. It toppled. He tore at the helmet seal, a suit’s weak point. He was hampered by the revolver, still clutched in his hand. The suit rolled and Sid was pinned, staring into a square of gleaming black. A gauntlet closed over his face. He swallowed a great gulp of something that was not air. He could not breathe, his eyes teared, his lungs were bursting…. Something moved, over the monster’s shoulder. To his horror he saw the blurred outline of Bella, without