by R F Hurteau
When Ripley continued to stare, Felix shook his head in amazement.
“Just how out of it are you, buddy? Tobias is our long-lost Observatory Attendant,” he offered at last, looking pleased to be the one explaining something while Ripley tried to catch up for once. “He’s been here ever since he went missing, going in and out of Sanctuary at night sometimes through the series of hatches we found. He was just on his way to do another supply run when we showed up.”
Ripley stared at Tobias, the gears of comprehension beginning to spin, albeit slowly, in his head once more.
“So...you’re the one wreaking havoc on the environmental systems.” The statement was more for his own benefit than for the others. “It might not even have caught their attention if you weren’t coming in and out.”
Tobias nodded. “I’ve been trying to limit my trips, but it isn’t easy. I can only carry so much at a time.”
Ripley frowned, undeterred. It was the day of the Anniversary. It was already halfway done. How could Felix ask him to slow down when everything was racing forward, with or without them?
Tobias kept talking, taking the blanket that had been rolled up beneath Ripley’s head while he slept and shoving it under one arm as he spoke.
“You two, like myself, came looking for answers. I think you’ll find I have a few for you.”
Ripley looked from Tobias to Felix, trying to decipher these enigmatic words.
“Listen,” said Ripley, not unkindly, “it’s very nice to meet you, Tobias, but if Felix has told you anything, you probably know we’re on a pretty tight schedule. So, if you have anything to share about how to get out of this icebox and survive in the wild, I’d love to hear it. Otherwise, I should keep looking, and Felix, you should go and get—”
“Whoa, there.” Felix pushed Ripley back down as he attempted to stand. “Just take it easy!”
“What’s gotten into you?” Ripley stared at Felix in disbelief.
Just then, the sound of a twisting doorknob caught Ripley’s attention. His stomach tightened into a knot as he imagined the possibilities. They were too late. The Council had found them.
But Felix didn’t even get up. He just sat grinning, taking in Ripley’s mounting confusion as the door opened to reveal a new figure.
The man before him had a thick beard that was mostly grey, though here and there a few streaks of red still managed to cling defiantly to his chin. His face was leathery, and a spray of freckles ran from one round cheek to the other, crossing the bridge of his nose. He wore a fur-lined cap with flaps that came down over his ears, and a puffy green vest spanned the distance between broad shoulders over a warm-looking leather jacket.
“Ah, awake finally, I see,” said the man, his mustache bobbing pleasantly as his mouth formed a smile. “A pleasure to meet you at last, Ripley.”
“Hello,” replied Ripley, dumbstruck.
“Ripley.” Felix was grinning. “I’d like you to meet my new friend Ambrose. He’s a survivor... from outside of Sanctuary.”
***
As Felix wiped out the remnants of his ration pack, Ripley studied Ambrose, too starstruck to notice Felix stealing a can of preserved mystery meat from beneath his slack hand.
A part of his brain kept reminding him that it was impolite to stare, but Ambrose stared back without seeming to mind. The hint of a smile lingered on the corner of his lips, his eyes bright, more youthful than the rest of his appearance. He had removed his hat to reveal a head of hair that matched his beard perfectly. The hat had caused it to stick up in wild disarray, hints of red hidden among their more numerous silver-grey brethren. As Ripley continued to stare, Tobias had set to work making tea as he filled them in on what had transpired since his disappearance, waving the kettle around as he gestured animatedly with his hands.
“So,” Tobias said, peeking into the kettle before placing it down on the hot plate he’d set up in the corner, “I was just minding my own business, like any other day in the Observatory, when I noticed a speck on one of the monitors. It struck me as odd because it wasn’t snowing that day. It was very windy though, and whatever it was caught my eye because it kept getting bigger. I was mesmerized. I tore my eyes away, eager to jot it down as the first anomaly I had ever spotted and had just finished noting it in my log when I looked up and saw that it was an aircraft of some kind.”
Ripley felt his eyes widen. “An aircraft?” he repeated in amazement, tearing his gaze away from Ambrose at last. Tobias nodded vigorously, picking the kettle back up again.
“It looked like a rocket ship! Or, or maybe a dirigible. You remember, from our history books?
“Anyway,” Tobias continued, “it seemed to be out of control. Everything happened so fast! It went into a roll and then wham! It smashed right into the D6 camera.” This last part he embellished with a flourish, slamming his hands together, sloshing the contents of the kettle down his shirt. “Ouch! Hot, hot, hot!”
“I expect you have questions,” Ambrose said, while Tobias danced around, blowing on his shirt and flapping it with both hands. Ambrose’s appearance was imposing, but his tone was kind. Ripley wasn’t sure what he’d expected. Perhaps something more akin to the way Denton spoke. Gruff and wild, a voice befitting a survivor of a cataclysmic event.
“How did you survive out there?” Ripley burst out, not knowing where to start. “Where did you come from? How did you get here? They said that no one survived outside Sanctuary.”
This last statement came out sounding almost accusatory, as if Ambrose himself had perpetrated this lie. More questions came tumbling out before Ripley could regain control of himself. “Can you take us with you? Are there others?”
Ambrose burst into laughter at the sudden barrage. His freckled cheeks rose like little moons, partially obscuring his deep green eyes. “Oh, son. There are others, all right.”
“How many?” demanded Ripley, aware that he sounded quite rude. His anticipation of the answer to this question made him forget that he had even asked anything else. “Hundreds?”
Ambrose was still chuckling, shaking his head. His beard made a faint scratching noise as it brushed across the front of his vest. “No, not hundreds.”
Ripley’s heart sank, his hopes dashed as fast as they had formed. For a few precious moments, he’d allowed himself to believe that there might be a thriving village out there somewhere. Somewhere they could be safe.
Felix and Willow could raise their children in peace. He’d be Uncle Ripley. They’d share a garden and discover the secret to making Mac and Cheese that was actually edible. He’d meet a nice girl, settle down, maybe have a family of his own...all the possibilities that flashed through his head took only an instant, but it felt as if Ambrose had just crushed a dream he’d been fostering for a lifetime.
Now, instead, he imagined isolated stragglers, roaming the ruined cities, scavenging to survive. In his mind’s eye, it looked a bit like the Edge, only with more trees and fewer people. Rough and unwelcoming. Not the kind of life he’d like for his friends. Not the kind of life he’d like for anyone.
“Not hundreds,” Ambrose repeated, and Ripley felt a sting of indignation as if the older man was trying to rub it in. But he shoved the disappointment to the back of his mind—now was not the time for wallowing. They’d needed a way out of Sanctuary, and fast...now it seemed that they’d found one. That was enough. “Hundreds of thousands. Whole nations. Humanity’s alive and kicking.”
It took a moment before he understood what he’d just been told. Tears filled Ripley’s eyes as the reality of the words sunk in. Hundreds of thousands of people! They could leave Sanctuary—they could go anywhere! His tiny garden blossomed in his mind once more, the dreams bursting forth, moving from outlandish imaginings to real, solid possibilities.
“Felix,” he whispered.
“I know, buddy.” Felix clapped him gently on the back. “I know.
”
“But I don’t understand,” continued Ripley, bewildered, “we’ve always been told we were the only ones left. No one else survived the Sequencing. If that’s not true, then why hasn’t anyone come sooner? Or at least tried to contact us?”
Ambrose’s smile faded, and his face became more serious. “After the Sequencing, it took a long time for Humanity to get back on its feet. It was chaos back then, you understand. The population was almost annihilated, and we lost the knowledge and wherewithal to run most of the equipment that had previously been taken for granted. We were isolated by mountains and oceans, cut off from each other with no one to turn to but ourselves. There just weren’t enough people left to keep things running, let alone show others how to do the same. For a while, it looked like the end. People took to looting and fighting. It looked like Humanity would finish what the Sequencing had started. But somehow, it worked out okay. We’re a resilient bunch, us Humans. People started over, formed alliances, rebuilt.”
He sighed and closed his eyes, as if he were remembering the events himself. Of course, he wouldn’t have been born, but Ripley felt sure that this was a history lesson that Ambrose would have grown up hearing over and over. Humanity had been driven to the brink... and come back from it. They’d done it without the Therans, without a dome. They’d made it through sheer force of will, the desire to keep going. Surely that was worth talking about. A heritage to be proud of.
Ripley wondered what history would say about Sanctuary, and the people who lived there. He wondered if they would be branded as weak or foolish for running away.
He pushed the thought aside. It didn’t matter.
Ambrose continued. “It took a long time. Pravacordia took to the sky decades ago. Culei conquered the sea. Nequiem subdued the land. But none of us were ready to travel to the edge of the world. It’s only been a few years since we’ve perfected airships that can make it this far south. And strictly speaking, even now it’s a tricky prospect.”
He shrugged. “I thought I could make it. But the cold was worse than I had imagined, and my timing was poor. I tried to make it at the worst possible time of year, when your Antarctic night is coldest. My instruments started malfunctioning, and before I knew what was happening, I had crashed right through the dome.”
“How’s that possible?” Ripley’s mechanical brain was whirring. “I mean, these domes are really thick. They’re made to withstand a lot of force. If what I’ve read is true—not that I can be sure of that anymore—they were made to be completely submerged in deep water. But you managed to accidentally crash through?”
“I think the structure of D6 was significantly weakened during the disaster that made it uninhabitable,” Tobias suggested.
“Which was lucky for me,” Ambrose pointed out. “If I’d come in at that angle and speed against something I couldn’t penetrate, it would have squashed me like a pancake! As it stands, I was thankful just to walk away from the crash.”
“Then what happened?” Ripley was shivering despite the warmth of the room, and Felix got up, returning with one of Tobias’ blankets. He draped it over Ripley’s shoulders.
“It’s not cold in here, buddy. You okay?”
“Fine.” Ripley waved him off but was grateful for the blanket all the same. He was fascinated by Ambrose and eager to hear everything the man had to say. He wanted to know all about the outside world, but he was also painfully aware that they did not have the luxury of time.
“I don’t know how long I was unconscious, but when I came to, I started looking for shelter. Somewhere I could contain the heat from a fire. I certainly couldn’t make a fire in my ship! I found my way in here and used some of these old crates for burning. There was plenty to keep me warm for a while, but I knew it wouldn’t be enough. So, I kept looking. Only they’d sealed everything off, see? I’d started to give up hope after three or four days, about the time my food ran out. I’d gone back outside, looking for something I thought I’d never find, when I heard noises. Banging and hissing, and a good deal of cursing.
“I followed the sound and found Tobias just breaking through the outer wall of the bulkhead you two came through. I tell you, the look on his face peering out at me, blowtorch in hand and steaming metal laying in the snow—I’ll never forget that sight. Most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I could tell I was inside one of the domes, you see. But there were no people. I didn’t know about the disaster in Dome Six, and I was beginning to think I was too late.”
“Too late for what?” Felix asked.
Ambrose frowned. “To warn you.”
Tobias had regained his dignity and sat down next to Ambrose. “Everything we’ve ever been taught about Sanctuary is a lie,” he stated, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “The Therans didn’t save us from the Sequencing. They created the Sequencing. On purpose! They were trying to wipe us out.”
“Only it didn’t work,” Ambrose pointed out. “Obviously. It crippled us, sure. Threw us back into the dark ages. The problem was, it didn’t kill nearly as many of us as they’d hoped. They’re stronger and faster, but they didn’t have the numbers, or the transportation. As soon as people started catching on that the Elves were behind everything, they refused to send any more ships or aircraft to Antarctica. So, the Elves were stuck here, cut off with no way to advance. They had no way to get off this frozen continent.”
Ambrose paused for a sip of tea, the wispy tendrils of steam curling and weaving through his mustache as he drank. Then he went on with his story, leaning back slightly and looking up at the ceiling.
“For a long time, survivors assumed that the Elves had given up and retreated back through Antiquity’s Gate, back to wherever they came from. But thirty years ago, Pravacordia—that’s where I’m from—developed long-range radio towers. We started picking up strange transmissions, but everything was garbled. We worked with a neighboring nation to put up more towers, this time out at sea. Eventually, we figured out that what we were picking up were transmissions being sent by the Elves. Those sneaky devils hadn’t gone back through Antiquity’s Gate at all. They were right here, in Antarctica, the whole time. They were communicating via the Gate with those back on their own homeworld, just biding their time. We let them get comfy, and they took advantage of our ignorance for over a century.”
He shook his head, looking almost ashamed. “It shouldn’t have taken us so long to find you,” he concluded. “We should have looked...should have been more proactive.”
“Hang on,” interjected Felix, “Back up. I thought the Elves built this place with the Humans, to save the survivors. Over an old base called McDonald’s—”
“McMurdo,” corrected Tobias.
“Right,” replied Felix. “That’s what I said.”
Ripley understood Felix’s confusion, and took over. “We were taught that they developed a vaccine against the Sequencing,” he told Ambrose, “but that it only worked on their kind, not on Humans. That they cured themselves and brought the remainder of Humanity here to safety. They said if we ever left this place, all of us could be infected because the Sequencing can stay dormant in the soil for centuries.”
“More lies,” said Tobias with a disgusted shake of his head. “When the Gate formed, suddenly all of the world powers wanted to get involved. At first, it resulted in a lot of tension as they fought over the available facilities. Tenuous agreements were made to expand, each country making grand plans and all of them arguing who would pay for what. But then the first contingent of Therans came through, and suddenly the conflicts between nations seemed petty. They signed an unprecedented world peace accord. Every nation sent their best and their brightest.
“They constructed this place to house all the teams and their families, all the people who’d come to study Antiquity’s Gate, and the Elves. And of course, the teams had teams, because out here in the frozen waste there wasn’t any food or anything like tha
t. They had to bring cooks and engineers and doctors and—well, you get the idea. Sanctuary wasn’t just a little base anymore. It was a self-contained city, a melting pot of the best we had to offer. The Elves helped, but they weren’t helping to build a refuge for Humanity. They were building a refuge for themselves. A foothold in our world.”
Tobias plowed on without taking a breath. He seemed eager to share the knowledge he had gained from Ambrose before Ambrose could do it himself. “The Therans came under a banner of peace. But that was just a ploy. They knew they couldn’t march armies through the Gate, because if they tried, we would fight back, and we’d have the advantage. It would be like trying to send an army through a small ravine...only a few soldiers at a time could get through, so it would be easy to pick them off. And a lot of their technology wouldn’t fit through, either, and the things that could wouldn’t function in the extreme cold. But they could bring through a small weapon, something no one would be able to detect. Something no one would notice until it was too late.”
“The Sequencing,” breathed Ripley.
Ambrose nodded. “Over the years, the Pravacordians have collected a lot of intelligence listening in on the Elves. Between that and what we’ve been able to piece together from oral tradition, we believe that the Elves overpowered the surviving members of the expedition here. They slaughtered all the adults and founded the Scientific Institute of Guided Instruction and Learning.”
“They kept the kids around. Anyone young enough to forget the atrocities they’d committed. They fed them all the stories that we’ve grown up on,” Tobias said, his tone bitter now. “It’s been about indoctrination the whole time. They needed sympathizers, workers, to help them accomplish what they didn’t have the numbers to do themselves.”
“That seems like a lot of work for a very slow return.” Ripley found his voice dubious. It wasn’t that he doubted the tale Ambrose and Tobias had shared. If anything, he was quick to embrace it as truth. The thing that didn’t make sense to him was the Elves. Why had they gone to all this trouble? There had to have been a quicker way to accomplish their goals.
