by Hannah Ross
Chapter 5
The helicopter took Scott to McMurdo, where he asked for a meeting with both Ray Douglas and Annette Geels. Lindholm was present as well. The four of them squeezed into the overseer’s little office.
He didn’t mince words. “It has happened,” he said. “We saw a pterosaur again, up close this time – in fact, we barely escaped from its jaws during a hunting trip. It seems that the beast has chosen the bay area for its residence, though how it survived the winter I do not know. And there is definitely more than one around. I think…”
The end of his phrase was lost in Annette’s loud whoop. She jumped up from the chair, her eyes shining, unable to contain her enthusiasm. “Are you sure? Are you positively certain? Oh, what wonderful news! I can’t wait to tell the rest of the team.”
Lindholm’s eyebrows crept up ever so slightly. “Somehow, it doesn’t seem to me Buck is so very excited about this.”
Scott nodded. “The creatures took to the bay as their hunting area. The game, namely the seals and penguins, is dwindling or perhaps moving to another place. The first hunt of the season was almost fruitless for the Anai. It’s a stroke of luck we didn’t take the fishing boats out to sea, too, because if we had been in the water, you can bet the beast would have picked us up for a snack. And we are afraid for the village. If there’s an attack – “
Ray Douglas regained his power of speech, which seemed to be gone for a few minutes. “This is… quite sensational,” he murmured.
“It is!” Annette nodded vigorously. “Oh, I can’t wait to go on an expedition, this time with all the equipment we need to take some good quality photos and videos. This is going to be the scientific discovery of the year – of the decade! Unique reptiles right out of prehistoric times! I have made some analysis of the bones, and I think they can be classified…”
Scott frowned slightly. It seemed as though Douglas and Annette aren’t really listening. “That’s very interesting from a scientific point of view, no doubt,” he said cautiously, “but what I’m saying is that these reptiles, no matter how they are classified, are threatening the livelihood, and very possibly the safety, of the Anai settlement. My wife, together with the elders and the leading hunters, is currently working out a plan for protecting her people. There are voices speaking of a necessary attack on the reptiles, if they can be caught near enough to the settlement, or traced to their lair. But I was thinking that perhaps, with modern equipment, the beasts can be taken and held in captivity, or else relocated…”
“You can’t be serious, Scott,” Annette stared at him, looking scandalized. “Surely you wouldn’t harm these unique creatures? As far as we know, there are only these two specimens in the whole world!”
Scott shrugged. “I’m here to represent the Anai people. You can’t expect them to share your sentiments. To them, these reptiles are an ancient enemy, a curse sent to punish the unworthy, and a very tangible threat to their well-being. The Anai have lived in the valley for thousands of years, maintaining a stable population and a delicate balance between man and nature. They have hunted at the bay every season, wisely and sustainably, and they have thrived. Now there is no game. If this goes on – “
Annette clicked her tongue impatiently. “If food is a problem, I’m sure McMurdo can help supply the village. Mr. Douglas, you can order extra supplies, can’t you?”
Ray Douglas nodded. “I can email our suppliers at Wellington and ask for extra provisions to be sent to the Anai.”
“Excuse me,” Lindholm said, “but I hardly think the Anai would do well under an onslaught of modern food. For many generations, their diet was made up largely by fish, seal, penguin and whale. This kind of food has kept them healthy and granted them excellent physical development. Most modern people can envy their physiques.”
Scott nodded. “I have now switched almost exclusively to Anai food, and I have never felt better in my life.”
Annette groped for words. “But – but we are in Antarctica, Scott. It’s true that native people throughout the world are permitted to go on with their traditional hunting methods, but… surely incorporating some modern food is better than bothering a unique species? I can’t think of a way to capture and hold creatures of such size without distressing them. And, after all, nothing has really happened yet – nobody has been hurt. Or,” she brightened at a new idea, “if the reptiles favor the bay, the Anai can hunt someplace else!”
“I’d say you need to study the local geography a little more extensively, Dr. Geels,” Scott said. “The bay is about the only hunting area the Anai can reach without making excessively long treks through the frozen terrain. They have relied on it since times immemorial. Their entire lifestyle hangs together by many delicate threads that had never been broken. I’d say they deserve protection as much as any reptile, and more.”
Douglas looked helpless. “I hardly think I have the authority…” he looked at Lindholm. “Anders, what do you think we should do?”
“The first thing to do is to get the Antarctic Committee involved,” Lindholm said. “They have made it clear that the ecological balance of this continent is their first priority. I’d say that the sudden appearance of several giant prehistoric reptiles in a certain area is sure to cause an imbalance.”
“On a very local scale,” Annette put in.
“Yes,” Scott nodded, impatience beginning to bubble within him. “But the Anai inhabit this very area. They can’t move. They are dependent on the valley and bay. Take one of those away, and their sustainability crumbles.”
There was a moment of silence.
“So what are you suggesting, Buck?” Lindholm asked bluntly.
“The Anai are currently under an existential threat,” Scott said. “If they find themselves pitched against the dinosaurs, they have nothing but spears and bows to defend themselves with. I ask for some firearms to be allowed in the valley for the purpose of self-defense. I, my brother-in-law Ri Omrek, and some others who might want to learn to use modern weapons will be responsible for their proper use.”
Even before he finished talking, Ray Douglas was already shaking his head. “I’m afraid that the Antarctic Treaty does not allow the use of firearms, except by those who are commissioned to uphold the law.”
“I believe an exception should be made in this case, Mr. Douglas,” Scott said.
“But are you saying that you would shoot to kill? Destroy specimens that are a scientist’s wild dream?” Annette’s voice rose to a pitch in her incredulity.
Scott was irritated beyond politeness. “If it’s the life of a human being against a magnificent but deadly specimen, then yes, Dr. Geels, I will shoot to kill.”
“You are exaggerating. This is all mere speculation,” Annette said. “No one has been attacked yet.”
“Excuse me? Have you been even listening? How about what happened at the bay?”
“That’s different. You encroached on their hunting territory –“
“I beg your pardon, Dr. Geels,” Scott said icily, “but I rather believe they encroached on ours.”
Lindholm laid a hand on his arm. “I’m afraid arguing would be futile, Buck,” he said, not unkindly. In a huff, Scott got up and walked toward the door. Already touching the handle, he turned around.
“I can only hope no lives are lost in your enthusiasm for scientific discovery,” he said somberly and got out of the office.
For a while, he wandered aimlessly around the station, the hood of his orange parka drawn closely above his face. Finally, the freezing wind drove him back to Building 155. He wanted to grab a bite, and as lunch wouldn’t be served for some time yet, he made his way to the vending machines and ran into Petri Karhu, who stood with his finger hovering above the pastrami sandwich button.
“Oh, hello, Buck,” he said. “Didn’t know you were here again.”
“The chopper from AN-85 just landed not long ago.”
“Everything’s fine, I hope? You look stressed.”
In a f
ew succinct phrases, Scott told him all that had happened. The Finnish scientist frowned. “These environmentalists can be arrogant little brats when confronted with reality,” he said. “Did you know that Finland lost many territories to pollution in the War? Yes, mainly the south. Helsinki had to be evacuated entirely, and Oulu’s the new capital. The whole population had to shift up north. It was the only sensible thing to do, but some assholes, if you believe it, keep harping about the infringement upon reindeer pastures!” he shook his head.
“The valley doesn’t feel safe anymore, Pete. Tahan and the elders might not realize this, but we really need some firearms to protect ourselves – as an insurance, even if we never use them. I wish I could make them understand…”
Scott fell silent. A man approached from behind the corner. It was the Russian giant, Sergey Pechersky, and Scott had the unpleasant feeling that he had been standing there for a while.
Pechersky stopped next to them and nodded. “Nice to see you again,” he said with a thick accent.
“You as well, Mr. Pechersky. You are visiting McMurdo again?”
“Yes. For a day or two. I needed to see Mr. Douglas, to discuss some plans for co…” he stumbled. “Cooperation, yes?”
Petri Karhu moved aside to give Pechersky room to pass, but the Russian remained standing, his eyes fixed upon Scott’s face.
“I couldn’t help hearing what you said,” Pechersky went on.
Bet you could, Scott thought, but didn’t say anything aside from a noncommittal, “Oh?”
“Yes. You need weapons, right? Firearms? To protect against… sorry, I didn’t quite understand who.”
“It was merely a hypothetical discussion, Mr. Pechersky,” Scott hastened to say, cursing his own indiscretion.
“Ah. I see. Well, if this is hypothetical, of course you don’t need to worry. But in case this becomes a practical… how you say? Ah, practical concern, I could help you. Guns are useful things.”
Scott frowned. “Do you mean to say you have guns? Spare guns? But the Treaty…”
“I said no such thing, Mr. Buckley,” the Russian said cautiously. “I said I could help you. I understand you live in that… fascinating valley. I’d like to find out more. And help you. As a friend.”
“I appreciate this, Mr. Pechersky, but I will only act openly, according to the legal rules laid out by the Antarctic Treaty, and the guidelines issued by the McMurdo administration. I am still part of the staff. I abide by the law.”
Pechersky inclined his heavy head ever so slightly. “Yes. Of course. Naturally, I wouldn’t… well, I’ll see you some other time, Mr. Buckley.”
With a slight, stiff nod, the Russian stomped on down the corridor, the sound of his heavy steps muffled by the carpeting. Petri let out a long breath that sounded like a hiss. “Damnable Russians,” he said quietly. “I don’t like him butting in and poking his nose into affairs that don’t concern him. What do you think he’s after, Scott?”
“I wish I knew, Pete. I know he wants a permit of access to AN-85, and before I figure out what his true motives are, I don’t want him anywhere near the valley. And his offer of help is really fishy.”
“I’ll bet anything they have illegal weapons hidden at their station,” Petri said darkly. “Russians never put much stock in the Antarctic Treaty.”
“We have no proof.”
“No. But you don’t need proof to mistrust Pechersky. Keep your eyes open.”
“I will,” Scott nodded. But the Russians were soon pushed out of his mind by more pressing concerns.
Back at the laboratory, he was soothed by the calm and detached environment of microscopes and tubes. He checked on a few bacterial colonies he had been growing from samples he took from the Anai Valley river. There were some extremely interesting classifications, but even as he worked and measured and made notes, he could not find true peace. At the face of danger, the scientist was pushed aside by the Anai man – for that was what he was now, an Anai man with a home and family in the valley, and he could not allow his home to be threatened.
He had planned to stay at McMurdo for two days, but shortened his stay by a day so that he could get a lift by chopper. Annette Geels and two of her team members, Christopher Dawson and Adam Barnes, were due to travel to AN-85 and to the valley, and Scott volunteered to assist them as their guide. Both Dawson and Barnes were PhD students from Wellington. Christopher was tall and lanky, Adam short and dumpy, and both were brimming with the enthusiasm of researchers embarking on a journey to a new world.
Stan the pilot delivered them to the landing site of AN-85 at the appointed time. Scott was impatient to get home, and stood aside with a taciturn expression, hands in pocket and foot tapping, while the young New Zealanders admired the scenery. This was the first time for Dawson and Barnes to venture out of McMurdo.
Suddenly, something they were saying caught his attention. “I see someone had landed here not long before us,” Dawson said. “Look, there’s the imprint of a chopper landing in the snow, and plenty of tracks all around.”
Annette came over and looked. “You’re right, Chris! But I know there hasn’t been another helicopter to this base for a while… Scott, come over and look, will you?”
Scott was already striding over, not waiting for an invitation. It was true. The tracks, though partially covered, suggested the presence of several men in terrain boots of extremely large size. The chopper landing was in a spot seldom used by any of the McMurdo pilots. Someone had definitely been here, and that someone did not come from McMurdo.
“That’s strange,” Annette frowned. “I mean, there are some other research stations that have access permits, but they always pass through McMurdo first, don’t they?”
“Yes,” Scott said curtly. He looked more closely at a relatively sheltered spot, where the snow was hard and packed. Something peeked out of the surface. He bent and extracted a chewing gum wrapper. Annette scowled when she looked at it.
“Honestly, some people are so careless. I mean, tourists are one thing, but around here I’d expect more responsibility for the environment.”
Scott wasn’t listening. He was examining the gum wrapper. “These aren’t English letters,” he said, passing the small crumpled piece of paper to Annette.
“That’s right,” Adam Barnes nodded. “That’s Cyrillic, unless I’m much mistaken.”
Scott’s face darkened. “The Russians have been here.”
“That’s impossible. They have no access permit,” Annette said quickly.
“I’m sorry, Dr. Geels, but Sergey Pechersky didn’t strike me as someone who’d fret too much over permits and regulations. They might be down in the valley even now,” Scott went on with a mounting sense of urgency.
“It doesn’t look this way,” Chris Dawson said. “From the look of the tracks, it seems they’ve just milled around.”
Scott wasn’t going to rely on impressions, however. “Follow me,” he told the New Zealand team. “We’re going down to the valley right now. It’s a pity Stan’s already flown off. I’d have liked to give him a message for Lindholm.”
They went down the steep narrow path, Scott hurrying along despite the protests of the two students, who were slipping on wet snow and wanted to stop and catch their breath. Soon they were muted, however, by the majestic scenery of the valley, enhanced by warm vapor rising from cracks in the ground. “This is another world,” Dawson said softly, his eyes wide open in awe. Adam Barnes shook back the hood of his parka and took off his gloves.
As always during the light season, the valley rapidly greened. Mosses and lichens spread out in a soft carpet, covering every inch of earth, and tall grasses sprang up. The dwarf trees unique to the valley were covered with leaves, after long months of lightless hibernation, which they alone of all hardwood species could sustain. A little snake slithered in the grass. Birds twittered overhead. It was a kingdom of warmth and life in a frozen realm.
“Magnificent,” Barnes breathed, his round blue eyes
taking everything in with the awe and wonder of a child.
Scott didn’t allow them too much time to stand around and admire the view, however. He began walking in the direction of the settlement with swift, long strides, Annette Geels and her two companions hurrying after him. As he walked, he looked around for any signs of foreign presence. So far, there was nothing to indicate that the Russians have gone down into the valley, but he wouldn’t rest until he knew for sure.
“We’re approaching the settlement,” Annette told the two young men, seeing that Scott was in no mood for explanations. “Soon you will see the first dwellings.”
“Remarkable,” Barnes nodded, panting to keep up. “We’ve seen photographs, of course – can’t wait – “
The first person to greet them on the edge of the village was none other than Ne Tarveg. Though there was little friendship between them, Scott was mightily relieved to see him standing there, calm and assured, spear in hand and a bow slung over his back. Ne Tarveg wouldn’t be standing like that if anything were wrong in the village.
“Greetings, Ki Arahak,” he said in Anai. “I see you’ve brought even more strangers.”
“These men work with Annette. They come as friends. All is well, I hope?” he asked anxiously.
“As usual. No sightings of the flying beasts near the settlement, if that’s what you mean. But we are prepared.” Ne Tarveg spun around and strode in the direction of the village, evidently not in the mood for small talk.
As they walked onward, the visitors kept looking around, hardly able to tear their eyes away from the unusual settlement: the stone houses with their roofs made of thick hides; the patches of grain that grew nowhere else in the world, already greening under the unrelenting rays of the sun; the enclosures housing the fat domesticated waterfowl of the Anai. “It’s like evolution took a whole different turn here,” Chris Dawson said in awe. “These birds – I’d say they look like ducks, but it can’t be…”
“A unique species, Chris,” Annette said, glowing with pride. “Completely unrelated to any other kind of fowl in the world. There was a dissertation written on this a couple of years ago.”
