Dry Ice

by Evans, Bill; Jameson, Marianna

  “Everyone on staff here was informed at the same time Greg was, via email.”

  Nik thought about that for a minute. “Today?”

  “Yes.”

  “I never—”

  “—got the email. I know. Greg intercepted it.” She paused, then added, “He told me he did.”

  They sat in silence for a while. She was apparently willing to give Nik whatever time he needed to absorb her words. Either that or she was falling asleep with her eyes open.

  They’re great eyes.

  Down, boy.

  “So where does this leave us?” Nik asked.

  She paused, a slight frown creasing her forehead. “Define ‘us.’”

  Not a bad response.

  Nik smiled. “Where does it leave the installation? Who’s in charge?”

  Every trace of a smile disappeared from her face and her eyes, and a coolness came into her voice, lowering it and making it stronger than it had been. “I am.”

  “Greg’s stepped aside?”

  “Yes.”

  Nik stared at her. “Seriously?”

  “Yes. He’ll be leaving shortly.” She paused. “When he’s gone, I’d like your help to make the transition successful.”

  “You haven’t changed. No sucking up, just cut to the chase.”

  “What would be the point? I need your help.”

  Nik rubbed a hand along his chin, wishing he’d shaved, wondering if she’d noticed he hadn’t. “Tell me what you have in mind.”

  Tess’s light blue eyes were penetrating, and there was no mirth or softness in them. “Before I do that, I need to know if you’re aware of anything that’s happened here that might have made Croyden and the board want Greg out.”

  Nik pushed the thoughts of Ellie’s flight to Fiji—and the storm Greg had sent to meet Tess’s plane—out of his mind and leaned back in his chair. He folded his arms across his chest and looked at her. “No. He’s the ultimate rule-follower. It’s annoying as hell and, if anything, he’s gotten worse since the array came on line. There are checklists for everything, two-person protocols for making changes, no one is allowed to do a freaking thing without Greg’s approval.… So who’s going to break the news to the gang?” Nik asked with a disingenuous smile and watched Tess’s expression slip into a slight frown. She clasped her hands in her lap, so tightly that her knuckles went white. It was the only nervous gesture that he’d seen her make since she fell off the plane.

  “I’ll let Greg handle it if he wants to.”

  Nik gave a low whistle before breaking into a huge grin. “You got your Kevlar underwear on?”

  “No, just the thermals, which I will shuck at the first opportunity.”

  “I’m happy to help.”

  She bit back a smile. “Thanks for the offer.” Her face became serious again. “You asked how I want you to help. The first thing I need to do is avoid a turf war, Nik.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think that will be a problem. But I have to tell you that this change will come as one hell of a big surprise, Tess.”

  “I know it will, but I’m glad to know that you think they’ll handle it. And if they can’t—” She shrugged. “It goes on the TDB list.”

  “You mean TBD: the To Be Determined list,” he said with a laugh.

  “No, I meant TDB: the Too Damned Bad list. So, fill me in on what you do down here.”

  “What I do? Specifically?”

  “Well, yes, but … what you all do,” she replied, then cleared her throat, as if she were hoping to sound casual. “What TESLA does.”

  Nik’s bullshit detectors pinged inside his head and he shifted his position on the chair. “You don’t know?” he said carefully.

  “I thought I did, but a few minutes ago, Greg implied that I didn’t. Actually, he told me I didn’t.” She shrugged and forced a smile. “That’s news to me. I’ve read everything that exists about this place—every technical report, every confidential memo—so if he believes there are things I don’t know, that means there are things about this place that aren’t committed to paper. Humor me. Tell me what they are.”

  Her light tone didn’t fool Nik at all. He watched her for a minute before answering, slowly swiveling side to side in his chair, his gaze not leaving her beautiful, exhausted, but dead-serious face. “Our mission is simple. We improve Flint’s bottom line by monitoring, predicting, and occasionally modifying the weather.”

  “Occasionally? Only the weather? And only to benefit Flint?”

  Where are you going with this? “Yes, occasionally,” he replied. “What else do you think we can do? And who else do you think we’d help?”

  “I don’t know, Nik. Maybe you could run a few things past me.”

  He shook his head. “Just the weather, Tess. We try not to micromanage things. We just send the weather Flint wants where Flint wants it.”

  “Nothing more than that?”

  “Nothing more than that.”

  He could tell Tess wasn’t satisfied with his attitude or his answers—hell, I’m not too happy with her questions—but she nodded at him and stood up. “That’s good to know, Nik. Let’s head down to the dining room.”

  CHAPTER 10

  As Nik opened the door to his office, Greg’s voice came over the small two-way radio clipped to Nik’s belt, calmly asking all staff to assemble in the dining room in ten minutes. A moment later, Fred, Tim, and Greg emerged from Greg’s office and joined Nik and Tess as they headed for the stairs. Fred fell in step with Tess.

  “Well?” she asked under her breath.

  “Not a problem. He signed where he was meant to sign. Hardly said a word.”

  “He never has been one for histrionics.”

  “He wants to make the announcement,” Fred said, giving her a glance out of the corner of his eye.

  “That’s fine with me.”

  By the time they arrived in the dining room, TESLA’s staff and the flight crews had assembled and were waiting for them.

  With a stance that oozed confidence, Greg planted himself in the center of the open space at the front of the room.

  Tess sat at a table directly in Greg’s line of sight with Nik on one side of her and Fred on the other. Tim and the two security men leaned against the wall near the room’s entrance.

  “This ought to be interesting,” Nik murmured. “Or at least unforgettable.”

  * * *

  Greg Simpson looked at the sea of faces assembled before him. They covered the range from Generation X to Geritol; most major ethnic groups were represented and the male-female ratio was nearly even. He’d always thought of TESLA as his little biosphere, the world in a microcosm—doing work that affected the macrocosm.

  Some of the people facing him had been with him since the beginning, when he was at HAARP; some had been recruited in the planning stages of TESLA; some had been hired as the installation was being populated. It didn’t matter how long he’d known them. They were his people, all thirty-three of them. He’d personally interviewed and hired each of them, from the chef to the mechanics to the doctor to the guy who ran the greenhouse. They were loyal, and he was utterly confident that nothing Flint’s directors or Tess Beauchamp could do or say would change that. The flight crews stood off to the side, complete outsiders. But Tess, pompous, arrogant Tess, sat at the table directly in front of him, looking too calm.

  He took a single deep breath and began to speak. “Thank you all for being so prompt. You all have other things to do, so I will keep this meeting brief. As you are aware, a short while ago, Dr. Tess Beauchamp arrived on an unannounced flight.” He saw the pilot and flight crews exchange grim looks. “I will leave it to her to explain why her flight was unannounced and why she was willing to put herself, the flight crews, and all of you in danger to reach TESLA. Without further ado, I would like to formally introduce to you Dr. Tess Beauchamp, who will be replacing me, effective immediately, as director of research at TESLA.”

  His delight hidden, Greg watch
ed startled surprise cross everyone’s face. Stepping aside, he swept his hand through the space he’d vacated, indicating that she should fill it.

  As if she ever could.

  * * *

  Sucking on a canister of Halon could not have left Tess’s brain any more devoid of oxygen than Greg’s blunt, accusatory introduction. She knew, and everyone else in the room knew, that he’d strung her up and left her swinging in a very strong wind.

  Never fight with a pig in a mud puddle. You’ll just get dirty, but the pig will enjoy it.

  It was her father’s favorite expression. Her mother’s was much more succinct:

  Well, Tess, what do you expect from a pig but a grunt?

  Both sayings applied. Greg Simpson was clearly swine.

  More slowly than she wanted to, Tess got to her feet and took a few steps forward before turning to face the small crowd. She waited for the quiet gasps and unquiet murmurs to die down, then cleared her throat and sent a look of sheathed daggers toward Greg as he took a seat at an adjacent table.

  “Thank you, Dr. Simpson, for that … concise introduction.” She took a deep breath as unobtrusively as she could manage. “As Greg said, I’m Tess Beauchamp. Let me say first of all that it’s a tremendous privilege to be here. In our industry, this installation is every scientist’s idea of Disneyland, or maybe heaven. TESLA represents the most forward-thinking, cutting-edge technology and ideas on this planet, and I’m honored, deeply honored, to be here. The work you’re doing here is reshaping the way the world works, making life better for many people, and repairing many ills suffered by the planet.” She took another breath, willing her voice to slow. “My arrival was, as Greg said, indeed dramatic and, unfortunately, very, very dangerous. The effort to get me here put all of you at additional risk. For that, I apologize.” Tess paused for a beat. “But I do have to thank Captain McTeague and her crew for getting us here in one big piece. I’ve flown in and out of the interior a few times, but I have never witnessed a more amazing feat of foul-weather piloting than I did today.”

  The expressions on the faces before her didn’t change; they still ranged from curious to guardedly hostile.

  Tough crowd.

  Well, I’m tougher.

  Straightening her already stiff spine, Tess held the pause as she made eye contact with as many of the people as she could. Some looked away, others took her effort as a challenge.

  Here goes.

  She let a faint, bland smile cross her lips. “I know now that my arrival was unanticipated by most of you. And that Greg’s announcement is a shock—but I assure you that it was not intended to be. Emails announcing the change in administration were sent to all of you by the vice president of strategic planning, Gianni Barone, informing you of this change. But due to a system protocol—” Why am I saving your ass, Greg? “—those messages were, unfortunately, never delivered to you.”

  Most of the people in the room were staring at Tess with doubt in their eyes, some with anger, but all were checking their reactions against those of the person next to them. Tess knew it wouldn’t take long for one of the scientists to question her—she’d never yet met one who didn’t speak his mind wherever and whenever it suited him to do so. She wasn’t disappointed. Not thirty seconds passed before one guy, dressed a little bit like a throwback to the 1970s with his yoked, pearl-snapped shirt and graying ponytail, broke through the low buzz that had erupted.

  “I’ve never had a problem getting emails from outside. Why are you saying this one was blocked? Who blocked it?”

  From the corner of her eye, Tess saw that Greg had gone very still, sitting as rigid as a wall of ice in his chair, radiating an anger that was just as hard and just as cold. His eyes bored into her.

  Scared that I’m going to tell the truth? Well, don’t you worry. I will. Eventually.

  Tess gave the questioner a small, tight smile. “What’s your name?”

  “Etienne Pascal.”

  “Thank you, Etienne. I’m glad you asked. I can’t give you the answer you want right now. For the moment, suffice it to say that I know that it was, but I need more data before I present my findings. I’ll welcome the question again and answer more fully when I’ve looked into the situation at greater depth.” She let her gaze sweep the room.

  “As you know, I’ve recently been named a vice president of special projects for Flint. Part of the reason Flint hired me is that the board of directors wants Greg at the corporate headquarters, developing new projects. They want me to continue the excellent work that he has begun here. Being here is the culmination of a dream—” She managed not to smile when she said it. “—and I have only the utmost respect for Greg’s many years of hard work, devotion, and innovation, and for his creative genius, which has brought TESLA from a fantasy to reality.”

  Her eyes swept the room again, making contact with as many people as would meet her gaze. “Let me reiterate that I wish I had a better way to tell you this. I know it’s a shock. I know that. But I am confident that together we can make this a seamless transition and continue TESLA’s vital and exciting work. I’m looking forward to getting to know each of you. Until we get a chance to chat, I want you to know that I have an open-door policy. Don’t hesitate to ask me questions. Stop me in the hall. Sit down next to me at dinner. Don’t be shy.” She paused for a beat. “Please join me in offering my thanks to Greg Simpson for all he’s done.”

  Knowing everyone in the room was paying close attention, Tess looked directly at Greg and began to applaud. The others shuffled to their feet and followed suit while Greg remained in his chair, flushed and glaring at her. Then he stood up stiffly and faced his followers. The applause died immediately. The sudden silence in the room nearly vibrated with suppressed emotion as they all waited for … something. Greg offered a tight thank-you and a brief bow, then left the room without saying more and without making eye contact with anyone but Tess. Trying to be as unobtrusive as possible, the two security agents followed him.

  Okay, then. One publicly humiliated narcissist is now headed back to civilization.

  Nearly everyone came forward to shake her hand and welcome her, but no one was effusive. Most were cordial; a few couldn’t manage to hide their hostility; others were hesitantly sympathetic. No one lingered, and in a matter of minutes, the room was empty of everyone but Tess, Nik, Fred, and Tim.

  “That went well,” she said, forcing a smile.

  “Sarcasm aside, it did go pretty well,” Tim said. “You didn’t expect them to welcome you with open arms, did you? Or for him to behave with anything resembling grace?”

  “No, but I didn’t expect to be set up like that, either. Tighten noose, release trapdoor, see body swing.” She paused and shook her head. “He’s really a jerk, isn’t he?”

  “You’re asking that question?” Nik replied. “You could’ve returned the favor by telling them he censored their email. Why didn’t you?”

  “I didn’t see the point. I’m not vengeful, despite the rumors,” she said with a tired grin. “Sometimes I bite, sometimes I bark, and sometimes I just move on. Besides, I have the emails and can show them to anyone who doubts me.”

  “Well, let’s get this show on the road,” Tim said after a brief, awkward silence.

  “Right. Thanks, guys. Let me know when you’re ready to head to the plane,” she replied, and the two executives left the room with a nod.

  “So, what about you? Are you still with me, Nik?”

  “You’re not the only one who plays it straight. I’ll let you know if I change my mind.” He shrugged. “I mean, hell, why not be on your side? This is the most excitement we’ve had down here since the kitchen fire on Christmas Eve.”

  “I appreciate it, Nik. I’ll see if we can’t take that excitement factor a notch higher, then,” she replied with a laugh. “I’m all for setting short-term goals.”

  Carmel McTeague, the pilot who’d flown the plane from Capetown to TESLA, strolled into the room with a certain amount of sw
agger in her approach. “That was some speech.”

  “Glad you liked it,” Tess said.

  “I’ll give you a heads-up when we’re ready to head back to the hangar. You know, for good-bye kisses and all that,” Carmel replied with an irreverent grin. “I’m aiming for an hour. We’ve got Bessie all checked out and fueled up and humming, so we’re just waiting on the guest of honor and his luggage.” She paused. “And just so you know, Dr. Beauchamp—”

  “Tess.”

  “Thanks. Just so you know, other than Nik here, these Teslans are not the friendliest bunch of Icers I’ve known.”

  “Thanks. I’ll withhold judgment until I’ve actually met a few more of them.” Tess turned to Nik. “Would you mind doing the honors?”

  “I thought you’d never ask. Should we start with the townies or the gownies?”

  “Townies,” Tess replied. “They might be bigger pushovers.”

  “You’ve been away too long, Tess. There’s no such thing as a pushover among those who winter over on the Ice.”

  * * *

  “Nik, do you know where Tess is?”

  He unclipped the small walkie-talkie from his belt and brought it close to his mouth. “She’s with me. We’re in the greenhouse. Do you need her?”

  “Greg’s gone to the ready room to suit up for the flight.”

  “Great, thanks, Dan.” Nik hung the radio on his belt. “Shall we?”

  Tess nodded and glanced at her watch. “Not bad. It’s only been forty-five minutes. Looks like they’ll take off on time.”

  “Carmel doesn’t mess around. She’s too used to the weather here. When she says ‘wheels up in an hour,’ it usually happens.” He held the door to the greenhouse open so she could pass through into the corridor separating it from the rest of the ground floor.

  Tess turned to shake the hand of Mick Fender, who managed the space.

  “Mick, this place is amazing. You’d never know you were in Antarctica. It’s a … biosphere in miniature. An entire farm in one thousand square feet,” she said, looking past him into the small space lush from floor to ceiling with vegetables, herbs, fruit trees, and redolent with good earthy scents.