The three women had stopped talking and turned to look up at Rotham. Carolyn appeared a little nervous and glanced around quickly, but Elizabeth said warmly, “Of course, Jeff, we could use some testosterone—but not too much.”
Jeff laughed. “Elizabeth, I’m hurt. You mean to infer I’m not manly enough?”
Rachel barked out her distinctive laugh. “Nah. I think what she prefers are opinions from a man who can think and uses his brain and not just other parts!”
Carolyn blushed at Rachel’s comment but smiled. “Yes, Jeff, please join us.”
“Thank you, ladies. Let me go grab a tray, and I’ll be right back.” He strolled over to the serving line. It was empty except for Eyvan Gorski, one of the Level 2 Russian experts, who was picking through a tray of mixed vegetables. Gorski nodded and explained his search. “I just want the cabbage. Fortunately, most people try to avoid it, so there’s more cabbage by this time of night.”
“Whatever,” said Jeff and began to scoop up his dinner items.
When he returned to the table, the women were deep into their conversation again, and he sat between Elizabeth and Carolyn. The former leaned toward him and semi-whispered, “We’re just discussing the implications of humans contacting an alien race.”
Rotham frowned. His imminent remonstration was interrupted by Carolyn’s conversational tone. “You know, Jeff, what if the SETI projects actually did receive messages from outer space?”
He glanced around. The hall was half empty. Their table was far enough from the next diners that it was unlikely they could be overheard. And even if they did, a SETI discussion among educated people was hardly a sure give-away as to what was actually happening at Site 23.
Why not? he thought.
“Always an interesting topic. What have you ladies concluded?”
“I think we can safely say that we don’t know what the results would be,” said Elizabeth. “Oh, there’s no doubt there would be significant outcomes.” She smiled. “And in some cases, quite earth-shaking ones. The ground beneath us would literally tremble, with a potential for chasms to open, especially for those whose religion is mainly based on certainty.”
“Yes,” said Rachel, “for many people, it’s the certainty that holds their lives together. Little green men are not the usual part of any catechism.”
Rachel launched off on an overview of which religions would have the least or most trouble.
“Of course, no major religion is monolithic,” said Elizabeth, shaking her head after one comment from Rachel. “They all have factions, sects, denominations, whatever. Within the same religion, there will be those who adjust well and those who won’t. I agree with Rachel that some parts of Christianity would have the most difficulty.”
Jeff nodded. “I think I would agree, and the evangelicals likely among those having the hardest time.”
“Oh, God, yes,” said Carolyn in a subdued voice. “I can just hear my relatives.”
“They’re evangelicals?” asked Rotham.
“A version, anyway. Antievolution, the Garden of Eden was in Ethiopia, the Earth was created six thousand years ago, dinosaurs and humans coexisted, the Bible is the literal word of God. The whole shebang.”
“I suspect the relations among denominations would worsen with the potential for such disparate reactions,” said Jeff. “Which ones would have the easiest time with such a new reality?”
Rachel jumped in quickly. “The Catholic Church almost certainly. The days of threatening to burn Galileo at the stake are long past, and the Vatican has moved strongly into incorporating scientific views, instead of denying them. You know, more into interpretation and implications, rather than factuality. Granted, this will stretch them quite a bit, but I think they would handle it.”
“I agree,” added Elizabeth, “and even more so for Episcopalians. The church encourages more flexibility in doctrinal and liturgical issues. Too bad other churches don’t do the same.
“Do I assume correctly that you are from an Episcopal background?” queried Jeff, smiling.
“Hah!” barked Rachel loud enough to turn the heads of the few other diners still in the hall. Then, with a quieter voice, “Not only is Elizabeth of an Episcopal background, she’s an ordained priest.”
Jeff thought the next hour was one of the more interesting evening discussions he’d had in months. Besides finding out more about Elizabeth’s scientific and religious history, he learned that Carolyn was from a family that disapproved of almost all of her life decisions. Equally surprising was listening to Rachel debate Elizabeth on theological issues Jeff was familiar with but never had an abiding interest in discovering more about.
My, my, Jeff thought to himself, just another case of not knowing when and from whom you can get a stimulating discussion. Who would have thought that mousy little Elizabeth was an Episcopal priest? Or that Rachel Munoz knows so much about different religions? And Carolyn Graham from a rock-conservative evangelical background! Poor Carolyn. I wonder if signing up for this forlorn outpost was at least partly to be unavailable for her family’s efforts to bring her back to the fold.
When the foursome broke up, Jeff continued thinking about the evening. Although camouflaged by circumlocutions and wordplay, they had explored different options and opinions on the possible effects of the Object’s existence once it became public.
8:30 p.m.
“Nudie Tuesday” fell on the first Tuesday of each month. The site hot tub could comfortably hold twelve people, although the lore said the record was twenty-seven. This notable achievement was supposed to have been accomplished the previous year after a New Year’s party and significant volumes of alcohol. The fact that a place this far into the Arctic had the energy resources to run such a hot tub year-round was one bit of evidence of the plentiful energy source the camp ran on. The hot tub was situated behind Dormitory 2—just at the base of the rising slope to the north. It was surrounded by wooden decking and a low fence. The purpose of the fence was not privacy, it was only four feet high, but to provide places to hang clothing and cut off at least some of the wind. Posted near the fence opening was a simple set of rules: no glass containers; be polite; and clothing required except on first Tuesdays. Any group wanting a nude session at any other time had to sign up and post when the session would occur.
On this Tuesday, nine of the usual suspects gathered after dinner. Six were from the maintenance crew, plus Mary Coutriard and Maggie Lazlos, both from communications, and Houdini. The latter was a regular and viewed the event as one venue to identify candidate bed partners. Sometimes the original hot tub users would change as the evening progressed, but usually no more than fifteen or sixteen would participate. For Houdini, Coutriard and Lazlos were losses because they were already paired and swung differently. He had previously scored with two of the maintenance women—Alycia and Barbara. The former only once, but Barbara several times. While Alycia had deflected further suggestions after the one night, Barbara was occasionally receptive. Both women understood Houdini’s casual view of such relationships, but it only seemed to make a difference with Alycia.
As the regular group finished for the evening, Manny Cardoza and Olga Jereski passed in the other direction. They were accompanied by Jerry Hindman and another of the maintenance women—Houdini couldn’t remember her name. Houdini was tempted to stay a little longer, but both women were evidently already paired up, and he usually avoided interacting with Manny. Not that he was afraid of the man, but they had an instinctually cautious relationship. Houdini had caught Olga in the lounge bar after she’d had quite a few liquor shots, which was not uncommon. He had been about to put a move on her just as Manny made an unwelcome appearance. Olga and Manny had an off and on relationship, but the other men knew better than to take advantage of her when she was drunk. Houdini decided Olga wasn’t that appealing after all. He later learned Manny had been the Big 12 conference heavyweight freestyle wrestling champion in college—twice just missing the Olympics. Houdini coul
d handle himself well enough, but why look for trouble? After all, it wasn’t as if there were no other women around.
10:22 p.m.
Zach put the half-finished book aside. He glanced at the cover, mulled over the last chapter, and wondered about his current reading habits. Before coming to Site 23, he had focused on no main genre or topic. Often, something that someone said, some place he’d been, or something he heard on the news would trigger his interest, and he would read until another topic caught his attention. Later, he could never remember why he had spells of reading about some topics, such as ancient Egypt or Albanian history. That had changed. In addition to reading on topics related to the Object and its potential consequences, he was attracted to speculations.
Science fiction had never been a major interest, although, as with many genres, he’d read many sci-fi books. His taste changed after he learned about the Object and met Simeon.
He’d skipped Verne’s War of the Worlds—he’d seen two movie versions. The same with the movie Contact, based on the book by Carl Sagan. They were examples of the extreme scenarios of humans’ first contact with aliens, that is, the hideous aliens out to exterminate humanity and the benevolent aliens eager to accept humans into the intergalactic community. It didn’t escape his notice that he suspected the former motive was more likely than the latter, and the realization saddened him.
Although he read other books emphasizing the extremes, he gravitated to stories of the struggle to understand alien civilizations and the inevitable misunderstandings. Ender’s Game and The Forever War were examples of mistakes leading to conflict. Maybe he hoped to find clues to apply in his interactions with Simeon. Maybe he liked that some of the stories had the main characters succeeding. Maybe he was pissing in the wind.
He reached to turn off the light after once more reading the book’s cover. The Mote in God’s Eye posited an alien race that was an existential threat to all other civilizations not through what humans would judge as evil intent, but due to biological imperatives the aliens were unable to control. He hoped the author had written a positive conclusion, though he had doubts. Maybe he would read Contact after all.
The last thing he saw before closing his eyes was the wall monitor. He had tried several scenes for his window substitute. The fireplace option was too weird—burning logs six feet off the floor. The tropical beach had lasted three weeks before the incongruity in comparison to the Ellesmere terrain had him switch to a forest glade. Several other scenes had come and gone before he settled on the Oregon coast: a small beach surrounded by rock formations, forested hills, and weather that alternated among sun, rain, and fog. He especially liked the fog. Today had been a sunny day before a fog rolled in. Now, he could barely see the outlines of the beach and the hills, but the sound of waves lulled him to sleep.
CHAPTER 29
MARJEK AND JEFFERSON
A Fortuitous Hunt
Several days passed before Andrews Jefferson told Zach the trek with Montero’s men would happen the next morning. By chance, two days later Zach was scheduled for a session with Simeon. He looked forward to getting off site and clearing his head before the VR session. In Zach’s opinion, the sessions had produced few new results the last several weeks. For unexplained reasons, he had not been scheduled for a session in almost a week. Simeon was now doing the scheduling with the acquiescence of Mueller and Huxler, after their acrimonious discussions on the advisability of losing control. Zach wondered whether his frustration had been detected by Simeon, who had reduced his session frequency.
As soon as Andrew left, Zach went looking for Willie to ask if he wanted to go along. Sally Ingersoll suggested checking the hydroponics room. Being this far north and without regular supplies of fresh foods, the site had a relatively large hydroponics facility to grow vegetables, herbs, and a few flowers to spruce up the dining hall.
Zach walked the fifty yards from the main building to the biology structure, where hydroponics occupied half of the space. Lindskold had told him the site’s hydroponics area was as large as McMurdo’s, even though the Antarctic station’s summer population was fifteen times that of Site 23’s.
When Zach opened the door to the room, the first things he saw were the stacked shelves, each with grow lights. He recognized lettuce, cherry tomatoes, cucumber, basil, and several of what he assumed were other herbs. Then he noticed two hammocks suspended above the central aisle—he’d been told staffers used them when wanting to nap amid plants and the higher humidity. The first thing he heard were voices before he saw Willie holding a large tray of pansies, as he followed Kathy who was doing something with a table of plants.
He heard them talking but understood only every second or third word. Whatever they were saying, the tone was friendly. Kathy said something, and Willie handed her one of the pots, holding the rest of the tray in his other arm. Tinkling laughter accompanied Willie’s deeper guffaw.
My, my, thought Zach, I think Willie is smitten with the cook. Zach would probe his friend and colleague later . . . gently. Willie didn’t like prying.
Zach smiled and decided Willie would rather spend time here than talking with him about a hike. No point interrupting whatever was going on between these two. He felt an unidentified pang as he left them alone.
The next morning, Zach found Montero, his four men, and Jefferson waiting for him.
“Ready?” asked Andrew, eyeing the Remington rifle and scope slung across Zach’s back. “You really think the rifle is necessary?”
“I hope not, but I believe in going prepared. I heard Montero’s men talking about the rabbit hordes.”
Andew looked as if he was about to say something but didn’t. Zach wondered if the major was questioning whether he should also go armed because otherwise, he would be the only unarmed member on the hike. Then Jefferson shrugged as if making up his mind that the group had enough weapons for any ten animals they might meet.
“All set,” said Zach. “Lead on.”
Lieutenant Montero headed out first, followed by Jefferson, the four other men, and Zach, all in single file. The first half-mile was flat ground with easy footing until they came to the lower slope of a ridgeline. From there, the pebbly surface changed to gravel and then rocks up to six inches across. Soon they were clambering over and around boulders close to six feet in diameter.
While ascending, Andrew glanced behind several times to check whether Marjek was keeping up. If anything, the CIA agent appeared to have an easier time with the climb than most of the men. At the top, they paused for a few minutes to take a break and a sip of water, then continued north along the ridgeline. They could look back to the right and still make out the site structures’ outlines only because they knew the location.
Otherwise, thought Zach, I’m not sure I could pick out the structures against the general background unless vehicles gave it away.
To their left was a valley through which flowed a melt-water stream. The other side of the valley rose to jagged peaks higher than the ridgeline they were on.
Montaro noticed where Zach looked. “Yeah, pretty damned rugged country. We went up there about a month ago. Took longer than we thought to get to the top between that tallest peak and the one to its left. By the time we got there, it was too late to continue, and we had to come back the same way. From what we could see beyond, there’s country just as jagged for several miles, although the tops gradually get lower for several miles a good part of the way to the ocean.”
They took in the view for another few minutes before Montero said, “We need to move on to get back in time for dinner.”
For the next five hours, they hiked a semicircular route, eventually curving back toward the base. They traversed valleys, crossed ice-cold streams, and climbed and descended between valleys. They were two miles from the camp and back on flat barren ground when Montero gave hand signals for them to stop and be silent. After a few seconds, he motioned for the others to come alongside.
“Looks like it’s a musk ox i
n trouble.”
They could see a three-quarters grown animal hobbling two hundred yards away.
“The right foreleg seems to be broke,” said Andrew.
“Yeah, afraid so,” said Montero. “Its future is going to be pretty short. Just until the wolves spot it.”
“There’s nothing we can do to help it,” said Zach. “The merciful thing is to kill it quickly. The wolves will bring it down and start eating while it’s still alive.”
He unslung the rifle, lowered to one knee, sighted through the scope, and fired. Jefferson thought he could see a puff of blood and fur erupt behind where the injured foreleg attached to the body. The musk ox did a slight hop on its three good legs and collapsed.
The seven men walked to the carcass.
“A little bigger than I thought,” said Montero. “What do you think, male or female?”
“Well,” said Zach. “Looks like either a nearly full-grown female or a part-grown male, if you can judge by the horn size. No sense letting it go to waste. I’ll start dressing it out, while the rest of you return to the site. Tell Willie Larson where I am, and to bring a couple of sheets of plastic or small tarps the meat can be wrapped in.
“Lieutenant, how about two of your men stay and help me move the body? It’s going to be a bitch since there is no way to hang it up. We’ll have to work on it in sections.”
Montero looked at his four men. “Any volunteers?”
“I’ll stay and help,” said Shalton. “I’ve dressed out deer, elk, and a bear once, but this will be the biggest thing I’ve ever worked on. What do you think these things taste like?”
“Supposed to be related to goats . . . distantly, of course,” said Zach. “My guess is pretty gamey, although maybe this is a younger one.”
Harbinger (The Janus Harbinger Book 1) Page 37
