This is part five of the Anton deGama story, Black Ice. Anton's crawler is sliding towards a deep trench on Titan. Anton has scrambled outside.
He swung out onto the narrow walkway over the tracks, and swiftly scrambled towards the nose of the crawler, hanging on grimly as it bucked under him.
The clouds of methane mist and fragments of ammonia ice churned around him, coating his visor, but could not hide the gigantic chunk of ice just left of the crawler. It was easily fifty metres across. Anton judged his angle, and clipped the suit's safety line to a loop on the crawler's shell. The boulder was sliding cleanly, its weight carrying it smoothly. Anton paused a second, gritted his teeth, and jumped from the crawler.
The crawler jolted just as he leaped: the clean landing he had planned turned into a panicked roll to avoid the jagged shards at the edge of the ice. If one cut through the suit, his body would freeze in moments – but the sudden cold agony he feared did not happen. The suit was tough. He managed to pull himself onto the sliding ammonia. He glanced towards the drop-off: from here, he could not see how long he had. He just hoped it would be enough.
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