by K E Lanning
Ginnie fixed sandwiches on a table near the tent, while he set up the barbecue pit. He threw a match into the pit and the fire sprang up with a happy crackling sound. They ate dinner while the fire burned to glowing embers.
In the dim light of the midnight sun, two large trucks arrived, with lights blazing. Punctuated by loud beeping, they maneuvered around the building site. A man got out and waved to them, then directed the robo-arms to unload the sections of the modular house near the excavated hole. The second truck unloaded the crates with new furniture and household items.
Squinting against the flashing headlights, John placed the wrapped brisket in the barbecue pit. He flipped the little chimney open so the smoke would circulate around the meat. John feebly waved at the farewell toots of the trucks, meandering back to town.
He swayed on his feet in exhaustion, staring at the moon low on the horizon. “Good night, Antarctica,” he whispered and crawled into the warm tent.
Ginnie opened one eye. “I hope we can get some sleep now.”
Snuggled in his sleeping bag, he murmured, “Who knew a barren wasteland could be so noisy.” He was out when his head hit the pillow.
***
At daybreak the next morning, John sat in one of the chairs drinking coffee, hoping the caffeine would kick in before the neighbors arrived. The sunlight crept onto the outlines of the house and he strolled over to see if the 3D images matched the reality.
The Plasment exterior walls of the upper floor of the house were a subtle gray-brown color, resembling stucco. The material had been tested for several years at a model home at the UN station on Antarctica, and touted as being virtually indestructible. John crossed his fingers. As long as it doesn’t blow away with the first big Antarctic storm.
The solar roof resembled slate, with a wind-propeller system cleverly designed into the ridge to disguise its true function. He strolled to the basement section—the true guts of the house. All the power, water, and recycling septic systems, like organized spaghetti, sat ready to be hooked up and functioning in one day.
He circled back around and returned to the tent. Yawning, Ginnie emerged from under the flap, and stretched her arms. Still half-asleep, she helped him set up the community folding tables and chairs brought on the same truck that had delivered the house components.
Neighbors arrived in small groups, gathering around the coffee and cookies, bundled in coats against the frigid morning air. John handed out steaming cups of coffee and opened up more boxes of cookies as the crowd grew.
Two giant robo-cranes creaked over the hill, led by the foreman from the UN claim office. The foreman got out of the hover, positioning the robo-cranes with hand signals and voice commands. He waved to John and strolled to the coffee bar.
John handed him a cup of coffee and asked, “How long do you think it will take to put the house together?”
The foreman studied the layout, his face twisting in thought. “Well, with no major problems”—his voice dropped to a whisper—“and no one does anything dumb, we should be finished by evening.”
With a cookie in his hand, he stepped away from the table, waving the neighbors to circle around him. The “crew” consisted of their immediate neighbors, and this would be the first test of his new friends.
The group clustered around the foreman, listening to his instructions, but his droning voice faded from John’s consciousness as a jolt went through his body. Lowry. He gulped his coffee, spilling it on his coat.
Lowry cantered her chestnut mare up the hill and then slowed her to a walk near the building site. Despite the incident with Durant, she’d staked her claim—the tract next to theirs.
Ginnie knew nothing of his tryst with Lowry. During the Land Rush, he had put his guilt and uncertainty in a little hole in the back of his mind, but now? He concentrated on wiping the coffee from his coat. Lowry would probably be over all the time, borrowing equipment and bringing those animals over to defecate on the lawn.
Ginnie ran over, petting the mare, and chatting with Lowry. Why did Ginnie have to develop an unfortunate fondness for horses? Ginnie led the mare away and Lowry walked toward him, her stride long and smooth, and his throat tightened. How long can I hold out from touching her?
Lowry stood in front of him as if digesting his mood of the day. Her eyes narrowed for a second, then she said, “Hello, John. Remember me?”
In the awkward silence, her lips narrowed, and the tension between them returned.
Finally, he muttered, “Want some coffee?”
“No, thanks. I had a cup earlier.” Looking around, she smiled. “John, congrats—you have one of the best claims!”
“Thanks.” He cleared his throat. “I guess you staked the next claim over from ours.”
With a puzzled look, Lowry nodded. “Yep, still in the same spot as yesterday.”
John tilted his head. “I guess I never thanked you for the information on the tracts.”
She smiled. “A fair exchange for your service to Antarctica.” She leaned into him, her face bright with excitement. “I wanted to be the first to tell you: the story on Durant is out and social media is eating it up. He’s defeated! You can’t turn around without seeing it, hearing it, or tasting it!”
“He’s defeated for now, anyway,” he replied. “What about your father?”
Lowry grimaced and then looked away. “He’s cooperating fully with the investigation. His lawyer said he might be granted parole.” She exhaled. “Dad uses the scars of his past to excuse the flaws of his present.”
John wondered if Duff would still try to run for election. He didn’t know if her father would get elected, but he knew plenty of elected officials throughout history who had done time at some point in their career. Luckily for Duff, his involvement in the ANT scandal was overshadowed by both the exposure of Durant and the call for Antarctic elections to be held within the year.
“What about Buck and Sergei?” John asked.
“The recruits are all being sent back to New York and the principals will be tried for racketeering. The contracts for the transport system have been kicked out and will be re-bid.”
“Durant is not a man to give up with a minor setback.”
“I wouldn’t call it a ‘minor setback.’”
“Sometimes the difference between a minor and major setback is the amount of money involved to ‘fix’ it.”
“I hope you’re wrong,” she said, shaking her head.
John touched her arm. “I wish they had charged them before Hadeel—”
Lowry whispered, “I planted flowers over her grave.” She met his eyes. “I’ll never be able to repay you for saving my life.”
“All in a day’s work.”
She examined his bruised face. “I hope you’re healing well?”
He shrugged. “Still a bit sore.” Pointing to the scrape over her eye, he asked, “Are you okay? You had a pretty hard fall.”
“I’ve had worse.” Lowry grinned. Then she gazed into his eyes. “It’s good to have a friend out here.”
Their eyes locked for a second, then John glanced away with a nervous cough. Ginnie had returned with a tub of lunch items.
With a nod at Ginnie, Lowry asked, “How’s Ginnie adjusting to our fine continent?”
John smiled, watching Ginnie set the table for lunch. “She’s a real trooper!”
“I hope she doesn’t get too lonely.” She turned away from the bustling activity of the house-raising and toward the emptiness surrounding them.
John scanned the landscape. In the heart of the valley, the river tumbled its way to the sea. Above them, the slopes rose to the foothills, tinted with gray rock and sporadic green tussock grass, framed with the distant, snow-topped mountains. No creatures in sight, only clouds drifting on the wind in the endless pale blue sky.
With a sigh, John asked, “Does the wind ever stop?”
“Never.”
John inhaled the crisp air, and with a smile, turned toward her. “But we are
free.”
Lowry laughed, gesturing with her thumb toward the neighbors and the robo-cranes moving the basement of the house into the excavated hole. “Yeah, we’re free to work our butts off!”
***
Lowry worked like a Trojan. She had amazing strength, which came from working outdoors from childhood. Helen would never have been able to keep up with her. Driving a tractor, Lowry dumped gravel around the exterior of the foundation, and then helped load the kitchen with the provisions they had bought in town.
Watching her, he felt himself become aroused. “Dammit!” he mumbled under his breath. He was hopeless.
By lunch, the crew had the exterior and most of the interior hooked up and running. He fixed Lowry a plate for lunch, and they chatted awkwardly during most of the meal.
Panicking that he would lose his chance to mend fences with her, he blurted out, “Lowry, I’m sorry if I hurt you after our, uh, picnic. Please give me time. I’m still a bit confused. It’s especially difficult because of Ginnie—she reminds me so much of her mother.”
Lowry put her hand on his arm. “John, I understand, but I wish you had figured that out a little sooner.”
John stared at his plate. “I know.”
After lunch, Lowry and a few neighbors moved in topsoil for the courtyard garden, while the foreman checked the power and plumbing systems. John directed the rest of the crew in moving the furniture and supplies into the house. They ended the day with a dinner of barbecue and beer, accompanied by a neighbor strumming a mandolin. The crowd waved to the foreman as he drove off, leading the robo-cranes away to be ready for the next house-raising.
After the neighbors left, John and Ginnie made the beds and except for a few minor details, completed the setup of their new home. With a cheer, they folded up the tent and stored it in the cellar. John took a hot shower, dried off with a fresh towel, and then walked into the bedroom. Sighing, he stretched out on the new bed, and pulled the blankets over him, murmuring “Off” to extinguish the light. He stared at the ceiling and then flipped onto his side and re-adjusted the covers.
They would join the merry band for the next several days, until all nine houses in this sector were completed. Lowry’s house was the next day. He would be near her again.
John rotated to his other side and fluffed the pillow. In the dark room, his mind returned to the day they had made love—the vision of her arms around him and the feel of her lips on his.
He was falling for her. The thought of Helen was still there, but like an old photograph, the colors were slowly deteriorating into a faded image.
CHAPTER 14
Lowry scanned the horizon. No sign of the house-raising crew as yet. With a sigh, she chewed the inside of her cheek. Was it the excitement of the construction, or being near John again?
Turning away, she busied herself with preparing food and drink for the crew. She connected the hose to the new water well spigot and cranked the handle open. Water gushed out, and she silently thanked the UN water-well crew that had drilled it yesterday. She let the system flush for a few moments before she cupped her hand and tasted the fresh clean water. She filled the water cooler, stacked the cups, and readied the coffee station.
Laughter floated up to her from below. A smile crossed her face at the sight of neighbors hovering across the valley floor, following the huge robo-cranes like baby ducks. She brought a platter of baked goods to the coffee-bar area, and said, “Start coffee,” to the coffee maker. She hurriedly prepared the rest of the lunch and then waved as they reached the house site.
Ginnie yelled hello to her, but John hung back at the hovercraft, looking a bit uncomfortable.
Puzzled by his demeanor, she waved to him, and saw his visible relief at her greeting. He’s a complicated man.
She called out, “Hey, can you help me a minute?”
John smiled. “Sure.”
He helped her set up the lunch tables, and then stacked the plates, utensils, and condiments on one side. Lowry pivoted with the container of tea she had brewed and brushed against John’s chest as he was passing, nearly dropping the jug.
She looked at him, breathless at the electricity jumping between them. “Sorry,” she said, placing the iced tea on the table—despite the weakness in her knees.
He stood still and stared at her.
She swallowed hard. “How do you like the place? You can see where the excavators dug the hole for the house—near those stone monoliths.” Maybe if she kept talking, her heart would stop beating so fast. “And yesterday,” she continued, “I planted a few trees on each side of a path leading to the house.”
Nodding, John scanned the horizon. “You have an extraordinary view. You may have the best parcel on Antarctica.” He grinned. “Even better than ours. I think you were holding out on me.”
They both laughed, easing some of the tension between them.
With an innocent grin, she replied, “Would I do such a thing?” and pushed him toward the crew, walking with the robo-cranes, as they moved the cellar section into the hole. “Playtime is over, mister, get over there and start building me a house.”
Lowry watched him walk away. Her lips parted as he ran his fingers through his hair, recalling the touch of his hands on her bare skin. Neighbors scurried around the property, unloading items, adding more food to the tables—working hard for a fellow Antarctican. She breathed deep, trying to shake off the lingering passion between her and John. There was a house to build and a farm to grow. Life was good.
The stone for the house would be delivered next week. Lowry had planned this house for a long time. She’d hired several of the local miners to quarry stone she had found on her recon missions—brilliant white sandstone for the exterior with travertine and marble flooring through most of the house. She felt that a dwelling should blend into the environment.
She laid covered platters of sandwiches on the tables and finished the preparations for lunch. With a smile, she walked over to join the team, now with sweaty foreheads and strained sinews.
The foundation took the longest, tying the sub-floor into the bedrock, then a shout went up as the plumbing was tied into the well. Next, the robo-cranes placed the top floor on and fit it together to form an indivisible protectorate. The house had bedrooms, living areas, and a kitchen—the inner sanctuaries of a home. With the final bolt, the robo-crane lifted its arm and a cheer rose from the crowd.
The men and women laughed as they lifted furniture from the crates and readied the soil for the interior garden. Their children played in the debris around them. In this new life on Antarctica, bonds grew between these people who had been strangers, even competitors, a short time ago.
Lowry smiled. Another home on Antarctica was in place. But they were building not only a house but a community that grew where none had existed before. They would plant together and harvest together. They would live and die together. Humans had begun again, like it had been at the start of civilization when they had more to fear from the elements than each other.
As the sun approached the horizon, the troupe of neighbors waved goodbye and drifted home.
John was the last to leave and walked up with a smile. “I hope you sleep well.”
“I’m exhausted. I’ll sleep like a baby in my new bed, in my new house. Thanks for all your hard work. And I hear congratulations are in order—you were elected sector rep.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Frankly, I wasn’t expecting to be elected and I’ll be glad when my term is over.”
Lowry gazed at him. “You were elected because you’re a leader, John. Uncle Nick told me about your speech on the night of the Land Rush. I wish I could have been there, but that was the night the new colt decided it was time to join us.”
John grimaced. “I’m not sure that speech was a demonstration of leadership, or a lethal combo of exhaustion and alcohol.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Besides, a leader and a manager have two different skill sets. I had my fill of corporate management and th
e politics that goes with it. I’m not cut out to be a bureaucrat.” He poked his thumb toward his chest. “I’m the type who needs time alone.”
“Just what Antarctica needs—its first hermit.” Grinning, she said, “Maybe Uncle Nick can sublet his cave to you.”
He met her eyes and said softly, “Speaking of being alone, I worry about you being out here by yourself.”
With a sideways grin, she nodded. “Thanks, John. I have a pistol.”
“Good.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Call me if you need help—I’m close by.” He turned to leave, calling Ginnie to meet him at the hover.
She waved goodbye, then touched her shoulder where his hand had been. Would they ever make love again?
***
When all the houses in their sector were completed, the settlers focused on their own homesteads, until planting time for the major crops brought them together again.
Lowry had planted a small interior garden with vegetables and herbs susceptible to freezing, but today, she woke early to put in her main garden. She scouted around the house and found the best spot, and then led out the hover wagon, with tools, seeds, and seedlings she’d bought in town.
The community robo-tiller had arrived and introduced itself. “I am ready when you are ready.” She synced the coordinates of the garden plot to the robo-tiller’s software. “Thank you, I have the coordinates. May I begin?”
With an affirmative from Lowry, the robo-tiller rolled to the designated garden location, and with a beep, the tiller spun into gear with a whirr. Green light flashing, it dug into the first corner of the garden.
The rich smell of the soil drifted to her. Tears sprang into Lowry’s eyes. This soil had never been touched by human hands.
The robo-tiller rumbled along, breaking and turning the soil into rows, sifting large rocks into a rear tray. The sun warmed and Lowry peeled off her sweater and ate lunch, watching the tiller progress. It took most of the day to prepare the beds, with Lowry emptying the rocks from the rear tray as it filled. When it completed the programmed garden outline, she sent the robo-tiller toddling off to the next farm, re-charging itself from the sun as it rolled along.
