Below Zero

by Dan Smith

  ‘And who’s Magpie?’ Zak asked.

  ‘Not who,’ Dad replied. ‘What. “Magpie” is what they call the MRV. It’s a scientist joke. Magpies are supposed to like collecting stuff.’

  Scientist humour. Yeah, ha ha.

  The camera panned further round until it focused on a middle-aged, fair-haired man with a close-cut beard. He was dressed in ECW gear, and standing by the front door of The Hub. The camera zoomed in on the name printed on the chest of his jacket.

  Peters.

  ‘You all set to go, Prof?’ Diaz spoke with an Australian accent but her voice was muffled. Peters gave her a thumbs-up, and she turned the camera on herself. Zak saw a close-up of it reflected in the tinted lenses of her goggles. ‘Oh. Wait a minute.’ The camera pointed at the floor for a few seconds, then raised to focus on Diaz’s face. No goggles this time. ‘Here I am!’

  Zak was surprised to see that Diaz was the girl from the photos in the living quarters. He guessed she was about fourteen, with olive skin, short dark hair, and eyes that twinkled when she spoke. He couldn’t imagine why anyone that age would want to be involved in something like the Exodus Project, but she appeared to be enjoying herself, smiling and waggling her eyebrows at the camera. ‘Sofia Diaz reporting for duty,’ she said. ‘And they told me I’d never amount to anything. Well, look at me now, Mr Allen, I’m part of a mission. And guess what, sucker? I’m going to Mars. My only regret is that you poor Earthlings are going to have to manage without me. Later, losers!’

  ‘Scan forward,’ Dad said, so Mum moved the slider along the bottom of the screen.

  In fast-forward, Zak saw a shot of the Magpie on the ice and a stack of gear piled beside it. It was dark and there were pools of light spilling out from the base, flooding across the ice. A brief blink and the gear was gone, and Peters was climbing aboard the Magpie. After a sweeping shot of The Hub, the video blinked again and Mum let it play.

  ‘Looks small from here.’ It was Sofia Diaz again.

  The screen was mostly dark apart from a fuzzy light in the centre, towards the bottom. When the camera focused, the fuzzy light sharpened and separated into a number of small lights.

  ‘That’s Outpost Zero,’ Dad said. ‘She’s filming the base from way out on the ice.’

  The camera lingered on the lights. ‘A few more weeks and we won’t even be able to get a plane in here,’ Diaz said. ‘Imagine that. It’ll be so cold, the fuel will turn to gel. We could be on our own for months.’

  ‘Wait.’ May reached forward and paused the video. ‘Did she just say they won’t be able to get a plane in here?’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Dad reassured her. ‘We’ll be long gone by then.’

  ‘But you never said anything about that. You never said anything about not being able to leave.’ May put back her head like she was trying to stay calm. ‘Ugh. This just gets better and better.’

  ‘We’re going to be fine,’ Mum told her. ‘We still have weeks before it’ll be that cold. Please. Panicking won’t help. Let’s just watch this and find out what we can, shall we?’

  ‘And on the bright side,’ Zak said. ‘If we get stuck here, you won’t have to go back to school. Just think – no more Vanessa Morton-Chandler.’

  May looked at Zak like she was about to lose it, but finally she took a deep breath and nodded slowly. ‘All right. Just play the video.’

  Mum tapped the pause button and the screen jerked back into life.

  Feels like we’re a million miles from anywhere,’ Diaz said, and Zak thought there was something comforting about her slow and considered accent.

  ‘We will be when we’re up there.’ It was the first time Zak had heard Peters’ voice. He sounded like he was from Scandinavia.

  The image tilted to reveal a clear sky filled with more stars than Zak thought possible. ‘You think there’s anyone else up there? I don’t mean on Mars – that’s just Spiders building us a base – I mean further out.’

  ‘Do you?’ Peters asked.

  ‘I dunno. I reckon there could be. But I’m starting to wonder what we’ve got down here.’ The camera swivelled, showing a glimpse of Peters as it swept around to take in the view of the icy desert. ‘You know, since those guys from BioMesa turned up, I’ve—’

  ‘We were told not to ask about that,’ Peters said. ‘To not talk about it. If we do, it could jeopardize the whole project.’

  ‘They’re doing something out at The Chasm.’ Sofia ignored Peters. ‘I’ve seen it.’

  ‘You’ve seen it?’

  ‘Yeah. I reckon they’re taking the Spiders out there and lowering them in. Doing something they shouldn’t.’

  ‘I don’t want to know.’

  ‘Don’t you? You don’t want to know they’re using the Spiders to drill core samples from way down? You don’t want to know they found something under the ice? And I mean deep under the ice. You’re a scientist, I thought you’d be interested . . .’

  ‘Found something?’ The camera swung back and focused on Peters’ face. ‘Something like what?’

  ‘Some kind of bug. Doc Blair’s been looking at the core I gave him, and the thing I found inside it. An insect. Something—’

  ‘Stop. Not on camera.’ Peters leant forward, his hand looming over the lens. There was a fumbling sound as the image blurred and flicked to a first-person view of a drive across the ice, the inside of the Magpie jolting about. Another flick and the image switched to a shot of two people walking away from the camera.

  Dad leant over and paused the video. ‘BioMesa? What were they doing here? And what were they doing with our Spiders?’ He took off his glasses and rubbed his nose before putting them back on. ‘Sounds like she’s talking about those things we found in the lab. Those insects, or whatever they are.’

  ‘Insects deep under the ice?’ Mum said. ‘That no one has ever found before? How could—’

  ‘Just play the video,’ May said. ‘Then we’ll find out.’

  When Dad unpaused it, Sofia and Peters continued walking away from camera. They used a small drill to put a hole in the ice, then waved to camera before coming back. For a few long seconds, the lens remained pointed at the spot until Sofia said, ‘Fire in the hole.’

  There was a loud crack and a plume of ice shot into the air where they had been standing.

  ‘They’re blowing stuff up?’ Zak asked.

  ‘Small controlled explosions,’ Dad said. ‘It’s all part of the collection process.’

  Mum scanned the video forwards and more events passed in jerking, twitchy movements as Sofia and Peters went about the business of collecting samples to bring back to base. There was loads of footage like that until a sudden change made Mum stop and let the movie play at normal speed.

  The screen was now filled with an image of Sofia’s face. Her eyebrows were drawn together, her lips were tight, and her eyes were narrowed.

  ‘OK.’ She swallowed. ‘My name is Sofia Diaz. From Australia. I’m the daughter of Professor Rosita Diaz and Professor Eco Diaz. The cameraman is Professor Valter Peters, from Sweden.’

  ‘Norway. I’m from Norway.’

  The camera turned around briefly to show Peters’ concerned face, and Zak leant away from the screen as if expecting something bad to happen.

  ‘Umm . . .’ Sofia took a deep breath as soon as the camera was on her again. ‘We might have some kind of problem. We’re not sure, it could be nothing, but we checked in with Outpost Zero before bedding down – like we’re supposed to – and Commander Miller said there were issues with power at the base. Outside comms not responding, lights and heat going off. Could be the weather but Mac was working on getting it fixed. Thing is, we tried to report in this morning and there’s no answer. Radio’s working fine, there’s just no answer. It’s . . .’ Sofia shook her head and her frown deepened. ‘Storm picked up a right shocker in the night and she’s been going for more than four hours now. We’re getting worried so we’re going to cut our trip short, come back into the bowl. Prof Pe
ters . . . Sorry, Professor Peters and I are heading back to Outpost Zero now. We’re a couple of hours out, maybe more in this weather, so we should be there by . . .’ She checked her watch, ‘ . . . sometime after midday.’ She stared into the lens for a while longer before her eyes shifted and she nodded to her cameraman. ‘OK?’

  There was a brief blink and the screen was filled with an image of The Hub’s interior. It was in total darkness except for the piercing white light mounted on the camera. On the top left of the screen, the timecode indicated the video was filmed about twenty-two hours ago.

  ‘This isn’t right,’ Peters said as the camera panned around the room, illuminating and casting shadow. ‘Not right at all.’

  The last time Zak had seen The Hub on screen it had been filled with people, but now it looked exactly as he knew it. Like the ship in his book – the Mary Celeste. Everybody was gone, and he could hear the storm raging in the background.

  ‘We’ve checked every module.’ Peters spoke to the camera. ‘But there’s no sign of them. Nothing. Power’s down; no light or heat. I don’t—’

  ‘Hey, what about the tracker?’ The camera panned round to focus on Sofia’s face. ‘We can find them with that.’

  ‘Good thinking.’

  ‘That’s why we couldn’t find it,’ Mum said.

  The video blinked again, and they were inside the Control room. Sofia was standing in front of the bank of computer screens, holding something the size of a smartphone. She stared right through the screen at Zak. ‘Peters thinks we should keep recording. We don’t know what the hell is going on here and, ugh, this is ridiculous, it feels like I’m in a horror movie or something. You ever see the one where the guys are isolated in—’

  ‘Stick to what is important. The tracker.’

  Sofia sighed and lowered her eyes. ‘Look, we’re going to keep rolling on this because we don’t know what we’re going to find, and we don’t know what’s going to happen, so . . .’ She focused on the device in her hand. The camera moved closer, bringing the device into shot, and Sofia used her thumb to switch it on.

  ‘The tracker,’ Dad said.

  The device came to life, and a satellite image popped into view. Mostly it was white, with a few patches of grey dotted here and there. Illuminated grid lines criss-crossed the image. Sofia pinch-zoomed in until the base came into view, the separate buildings clearly visible against the ice and snow. A second later, a collection of blue markers lit up, clustered together in one place.

  ‘We found ’em,’ Sofia said.

  ‘That’s all of them.’ Peters focused the camera on the list of names beside the map. ‘My family, your family . . . everyone. But what are they doing out there?’

  ‘I dunno. Some kind of meeting?’ Sofia looked at the camera. ‘I guess we’d better go and find out.’

  OUTPOST ZERO, ANTARCTICA

  22 HOURS AGO

  When Sofia Diaz was thirteen years old, she read an article in Adventure Magazine about a one-way trip to settle on Mars. The article described details about how the project would unfold, and was asking for families to apply. The Exodus Project was looking for highly intelligent, resourceful personnel seeking adventure.

  Sofia knew, straight away, that she wanted to go. No, not that she wanted to go, that she had to go. That she was supposed to go. There was no question in her mind, she and her family were exactly the kind of people needed for the project.

  Her papa, Professor Eco Diaz, was a well-respected expert in astrophysics. Born in Australia, he had worked on the space programmes in Russia, the United States and Great Britain. Sofia’s mama, Professor Rosita Diaz was a biochemist working on groundbreaking techniques to grow plants in difficult environments. Sofia’s brother, Pablo, was at university studying maths, which meant Sofia was the odd one out. At school, she was average across the board, but outside of school, every moment was spent seeking adventure. Scouts, rock climbing, kayaking, surfing, caving, even skiing – which wasn’t easy when you lived in Australia. She could ride a dirt bike like a professional, and had already spent two years learning Wing Chun Kung Fu. Sofia was hungry for adventure, always pushing herself to the next thing, but she couldn’t find anything that gave her quite the adventure she craved.

  Until now.

  It took her ages to persuade Mama and Papa to apply, and her friends told her she was mad. Two years training in Antarctica, followed by a six-month one-way space flight to settle on a dusty planet with a handful of other families wasn’t their idea of fun. But Sofia felt as if it was her destiny. She wanted to do something no one had ever done before. And, as young as she was, she knew she had something to offer. She wasn’t a science nerd, but she was smart, strong and resourceful.

  Sofia Diaz believed she would be an asset to the Exodus Project, and now, at fourteen years old, and only two months into her training, was the chance for her to prove it.

  The wind rose like a demon in the night and didn’t let-up for hours. It howled across the ice, bringing with it a blizzard that turned the world into a blur. It made driving difficult, so she and Peters took three times longer than they should to reach Outpost Zero. Sofia insisted on driving the Magpie – she was better at it than Peters – but spent the entire journey going no faster than a crawl, with her nose centimetres from the windscreen. One wrong move could see them swallowed by a crevasse and never seen again, so she kept it slow and steady even though she was desperate to get back. Everyone she loved was at Outpost Zero, and she had a feeling they needed her help.

  Arriving at the base was like coming into a ghost town. There was no power, the temperature had dropped, and The Hub carried the faint smell of overripe fruit and . . .

  ‘Do you smell fish?’ Sofia asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Peters said. ‘Could be.’

  The smell stood out to Sofia because Antarctica was bland. Snow and ice don’t smell of anything, and the extreme cold meant most objects held on to their aromatic chemicals. In the warmth of The Hub the most common smells were usually coffee, fried food and sweaty people.

  When she noticed the fragments of insect casings littering the floor, Sofia immediately thought of her trip out to the BioMesa cavern, and how she had returned with Ice Core #31. Doc Blair’s bugs.

  That was when her first feelings of guilt began to form. Perhaps this was all connected to something she had done.

  In the Control room, Sofia turned on the tracker and zoomed in on the base. Instead of there being blue dots scattered all over Outpost Zero, showing everyone going about their work, they were all focused in one place.

  ‘We found ’em.’ Sofia tried not to sound scared.

  ‘That’s all of them.’ Peters focused the camera on the list of names beside the map. ‘My family, your family . . . everyone. But what are they doing out there?’

  ‘I dunno. Some kind of meeting?’ Something wasn’t right. ‘I guess we’d better go and find out.’ Sofia gave him a reassuring smile, but inside she was on full alert and fighting a rising sense of panic. ‘I’m sure everything’ll be fine.’ She double-checked the fastenings on her coat, and tugged at her fur hat with the floppy dog-ears to make sure it was on tight.

  As soon as they were both ready, Sofia lowered her goggles and opened the door. Feeling the full force of the blizzard, she put her head down and stepped out into the cold, holding on to the handrail as she scanned the area surrounding the base. There was nothing to see. No clues about what had happened there. The ferocity of the blizzard meant she could barely see more than a couple of metres ahead of her, and any tracks were long gone.

  Far away, on the other side of the landing strip, the Storage Bay was invisible through the storm.

  She handed the tracker to Peters. ‘You OK, Prof?’ She leant close to his ear and shouted over the howling storm. ‘You ready?’

  ‘Yes!’ he shouted in return.

  Sofia steeled herself for what was to come, and started down the steps, boots crunching ice as she battled her way over to
the Magpie. Peters followed and waited, camera still running, as Sofia climbed into the vehicle.

  When she emerged from the cabin, Peters pointed the camera at what she was carrying. ‘You think we’re going to need those?’

  ‘Be Prepared. It’s a good motto.’ She shoved a bright orange flare gun into her jacket pocket. Into her other pocket, she stuffed a handful of refills. The second thing she had taken from the Magpie was a metal rod, about a metre and a half long, with a scoop on the end. It was designed for collecting rock samples, but Sofia figured it would pack a good punch.

  ‘Here.’ She handed it to Peters.

  He backed away, now seeing it as a weapon rather than as a scientific tool.

  ‘Take it,’ she insisted.

  Reluctantly, Peters put the tracker in his pocket and took the tool from her.

  Sofia grabbed a second collection tool from the Magpie, along with a large coil of tough, light rope. She wrapped one end around the front driver’s side wheel-axle, and secured it with a clove hitch knot, then put her arm through the rest of the coil. ‘Do kids read Hansel and Gretel in Sweden?’

  ‘I have no idea. I’m from Norway.’

  ‘But you know the story, right?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Well, this is our trail of breadcrumbs.’ Sofia pointed a thumb into the blizzard. ‘I reckon it’s going to be rough out there; we need to know the way back.’

  Peters eyed the coil of rope around Sofia’s shoulder.

  ‘Don’t worry.’ Sofia read his mind. ‘It’ll be long enough.’

  The wind beat at them as if it wanted to wipe them from the Earth. It fought to get inside their jackets, and hooked its invisible fingers under their hoods, but they leant in to it and kept their heads down as they struggled across the landing strip, uncoiling the rope in their wake.

  ‘Still getting that reading?’ Sofia stopped to check on Peters.

  Peters pulled the tracker from his pocket. ‘It’s stronger now.’ He held it up for Sofia to see the blue dots pulsing over the spot where Storage lay. ‘No sign of movement.’