The Dying of the Light: Interval

by Kristopher, Jason

  “I do, but I won’t, because you need me here, too. You need my help here more than those folks down there do.”

  “We don’t have to decide anything right this minute, do we?” she asked.

  “No, no, of course not. We don’t even know if Frank’s going to find anything or not. We’ll table it for now.”

  She smiled and gave me a kiss. “Good.”

  McMurdo Station

  Dr. Jack Warner paced up and down the short length of the Shack’s control room, his boots making a clomping sound on the raised floor. His pants made a soft swishing sound as they rubbed together, the nylon coating of the cold-weather gear scratching against itself.

  It was about to drive Jim Atkins out of his mind. “Will you stop that pacing!” he yelled, the outburst startling Warner.

  “My apologies, Doctor. I simply loathe waiting,” Warner said, leaning against the only unoccupied wall, near the door to the structure’s exit. “Anything?”

  “You’ve been here the entire time I have, Jack. You’d have heard it, too,” Atkins answered, exasperated. “So what do we do when they get here, Jack? It’s bad enough that we’re keeping the details from everyone else. Having only a couple of us coordinating makes things simple, nothing gets missed. I get that. And I know you only included me and Sabrina because we were in the damn room when the transmission came in. But you know as well as I do that there’s no plane big enough to take all of us at once, no matter how much we squeeze in. So who goes? Who stays? How do we choose?”

  “It may not come to that. They’re in Seattle. Maybe there’s a boat they could bring. A container ship, even.”

  Atkins looked at him as though he were mad. Which, in a very real sense, they all were. Or soon would be. “Do you have any idea what that would take? What it takes to sail one of those things? Even forgetting the complete lack of training or sea experience, where would they get the thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of gallons of fuel to get it here? And once they did, they couldn’t get to us without an icebreaker!” Atkins spun around in his chair in frustration, unable to look at Warner. “No, they’ll be coming by plane, if anything.”

  “Maybe they could get another submarine.”

  “And have it end up the same as the Texas? And that’s even assuming they could not only find a submarine, but also the people to get it down here, and that the submarine had the reinforced sail necessary to break through the ice. No, it’s not going to happen.”

  The USS Texas had arrived several years before, but had become trapped in the harbor ice after an extended stay. With nowhere to go even if they did manage to free the sub, and no way to take everyone off the ice, the crew had decided to assimilate into life at McMurdo. Their additional power and onboard stores had been welcomed by the marooned scientists.

  It was Warner’s turn to grumble. Just when he was about to speak, there was a squeal from the speakers and the voice of Governor Gates came over the line. “McMurdo Station, this is AEGIS Bunker One. Do you read?”

  Atkins cleared his throat and glared at Warner, just on general principle. Warner held up his hands in surrender. “Bunker One, this is McMurdo. Good to hear your voice again, Angela.”

  “Yours, too, James.” Atkins noticed Warner raising an eyebrow in surprise and reddened slightly, then ignored him as the governor continued. “We have some news about the rescue.”

  “Oh?”

  “We put our heads together up here and came up with the idea of flying the biggest plane we can find down to you,” she said. Atkins smiled hugely and stuck out his tongue at Warner, who merely rolled his eyes.

  “We wondered about that, Angela. Some of our people here had crazy ideas about container ships and submarines.”

  Gates laughed. “They’re not the only ones. We considered those ideas, briefly. There’s a naval sub base near here, but there’s only one boat in the pens, and it looks… well, not exactly serviceable. And you can forget the big ships—no crew, no fuel, no sea experience beyond what few Navy personnel we’ve got. By air is the only way, I’m afraid.”

  “I understand, Angela. Any luck finding a plane?”

  “There’s nothing at the Air Force base near us that would work, but one of the other bunkers we spoke with is checking out an Air Force Base outside San Antonio. They said they saw some, as their commander put it, ‘big sumbitches’ down there a couple years ago.”

  Atkins and Warner looked at each other, stunned. Atkins recovered first. “Angela, did you say San Antonio?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “These ‘big sumbitches’ he mentioned… did he say how big?”

  “Almost a football field long, I think he said. Why?” Warner could barely contain himself, Atkins noted, and he had to admit he was more than a little excited, too.

  Even now, though, it was still too painful to talk about the failed Shaw expedition to Christchurch. “We had an Air Force major here once who flew in on a big plane called a C-5 that was about that long. He talked about training in San Antonio. If your people have found some of those…”

  “I honestly don’t know, James. We expect to hear back in the next twenty-four hours from them, and I’ll let you know. Would one of those be big enough to get all your people out?”

  “Not all at once, even if we were sitting on each other’s laps.”

  There was a pause, and Atkins expected the others were likely wondering what to say next, as was he.

  “How many will they hold?”

  “I’m not sure, Angela. Not all of us, certainly. Maybe half?”

  There was another pause, this one long enough that Atkins got nervous. “Angela?”

  “Sorry, Jim, we’re just a bit disappointed up here.”

  Warner snorted. “She’s disappointed?”

  Gates continued, “I’ll ask them to look for two planes, then, if not three. I don’t know what we’ll find, but we’ll try, Jim. Maybe we can make two trips.”

  Even as she said it, Jim could hear how hollow her words were. They both knew whoever stayed behind would likely die before a second trip could be made. Even assuming the plane made it down the first time. Still, it was something. “We can use all the help we can get,” he said.

  “I’m glad to hear. Because we’re going to ask something from you in return, James.”

  Atkins frowned. “I’m not sure what we’d have here that you could want, but whatever it is, it’s yours.”

  “What we want is inside your head. The head of our science group in the bunker network says you may be the single most important person on Earth.”

  Warner coughed, and Atkins waved him to silence. “Um, what?” he said, unable to think clearly in his surprise.

  “I doubt you’d be familiar with her work, as she’s been in Army Research most of her career, but Dr. Mary Maxwell insists that you are more important than anything else down there. Specifically, your research. She says you’re the only one who could lead us to a cure for this prion disease.”

  Atkins was stunned. How could they know about my research? Who is this Maxwell person? “I’m… uh, I’m flattered by her assertion. I had no idea anyone else knew about my research.”

  “She said she’s been following it for years, and that you were a shoo-in for the Nobel Prize.”

  Atkins laughed. “That’s a joke. They’d never give it to… well, never mind. I’m happy to provide her with all of my research, Angela. I’ll make sure it comes back with us.”

  “Good. I’ll let you know when I hear from the other bunker about the plane. Until then, goodnight, James.”

  “Goodnight, Angela.”

  Atkins sat back in his chair, wondering what the hell had just happened. It was a lot to take in. Warner walked over and put a hand on his shoulder.

  “I never thought I’d say this, James, but you may have just saved all our lives.”

  “What? What do you mean?”

  Warner shook his head. “Ever the idealist, you are.” He began putting on his gear,
in preparation to leave the Shack. “You don’t think they’d have come all the way down here without that research, do you?”

  “Of course they would have!” Atkins said, knowing even as he said it that it was unlikely, at best. “I mean, wouldn’t they?”

  “No, they wouldn’t. I certainly wouldn’t have. It’s nearly ten thousand miles from them to us, and all of that by a plane or three that likely hasn’t been maintained at all, and certainly not adequately, to pick up a measly nine hundred people who would serve no useful purpose other than as a drain on their already stretched resources. Dangerous doesn’t even begin to describe it.” He finished putting on his gear, and zipped up his jacket. “No, they’re not coming for us, my friend. They’re coming for you. We just get to tag along.”

  “What if they can only find one? What about everyone who won’t fit on the plane, Jack? What do we do? How do we decide who goes?”

  “What do you care, James? You know you’re going. They need you too bad not to take you.”

  “Of course I care, you asshole! I’ve got friends here. Real friends, not douchecanoes like you!”

  “Well, then, we’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way, I guess. Fair and impartial as possible, seeing as how you have a free pass.”

  “And how’s that? How do we do choose to kill half our people? Because that’s what we’re talking about, isn’t it? Leaving the rest of them… marooning them to die on the ice. How do we come up with that list?”

  “The fairest way of all, James. With a lottery.”

  Atkins stood and began pacing back and forth. “No, you’re right. That makes sense. But we’ll have to save the drawing for the day of; there’s no way people are going to take this easy. We’ll have to wait until the last minute, or they’ll get crazy.”

  “They’ll kill each other, Jim.”

  Atkins looked around, startled. “Surely not! It won’t come to that. These are reasonable, logical, intelligent…”

  “…scared people who are looking at their doom—starving to death on the ice. All that ‘social responsibility’ crap will go right out the window, I guarantee you. They’ll reason it out, and come to the conclusion that the fewer people are in the lottery, the better their chances. The only reason they haven’t started already is because only you and I know the plan. Word’s still spreading faster than I’d like about the rescue, anyway, and people are starting to get hyper, precisely when they need to be conserving energy.”

  Atkins sat back down, collapsing into the chair, which groaned briefly. “I can’t believe they’d…”

  “They would. And so would you, given the chance. Fortunately, you’ve got the golden ticket, what with the stuff in your head and on those drives. We’ve got to keep a lid on this, or at least the details. Agreed?”

  Jim didn’t like the idea, but he felt awful enough already from his guaranteed spot on the plane. At least this way he could be involved and make sure Warner didn’t screw everyone else over. “Agreed.”

  “Good,” said Warner, opening the door to the outside. “We have some preparations to make.”

  Jim hadn’t been in the genetics lab in more than four years, and from the looks of things, neither had anyone else. Shards of glass, broken plastic and bent metal littered the floor and work surfaces, and a thick layer of frost covered most of it. Without ambient heat, the room had frozen over, and he’d had no reason to argue when Warner suggested they turn it off. After all, he certainly wasn’t working in here anymore, and no one would—not with the mess he’d left.

  Time to find out what’s salvageable, he thought. Beyond the two drives in my quarters, that is.

  He rummaged in the detritus of his lab for some time, returning to his quarters to retrieve his jacket and gloves when it got too cold to continue. With a rescue mission on the way, it was time to go through this more thoroughly, and it didn’t take him long to determine he would need the heat back on for that. He straightened up, his back popping loudly from being bent over pulling at equipment frozen to the floor for years. It was then that he noticed Warner in the doorway.

  “You haven’t been in here for quite some time, Jim,” he said, looking over the mess. “No one has.”

  “Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Jim replied, rolling his eyes. “I need the heat turned back on in here.”

  “We can talk about that.”

  “We can talk about it? As in, you might not do it? Why the hell not?”

  “Power is at a premium, Jim, you know that. We’re rapidly running out of fuel. And for something as unnecessary as this…”

  “Unnecessary?” Jim shouted, and he realized he was furious. Taking several deep breaths, he strove to remain calm. “Unnecessary? What could possibly be more necessary than finding all my research to cure the prion disease? Please, enlighten me.”

  “But you do have all your data, yes? On your drives? I forget where you stored them…” It sounded like the man was fishing for the answer.

  Suddenly, Atkins was very suspicious. Warner had never been interested in his work before, despite its possible applications to the prions, and why would he want to know where the drives were?

  Unless he’s planning to have the drives, but not me, available when the rescue party shows up. After all, what would you need with the scientist when you have his data? And there would damn sure be a spot on the first flight out for the man who secured that data, wouldn’t there? Atkins looked at Warner with a new perspective, and began to wonder what else he hadn’t seen before.

  “I have the data on the drives, yes. And they’re safe, no need to worry.”

  “Of course, of course. I wasn’t worried. I know how careful you are.”

  What a lying, hypocritical, asinine… Jim took another deep breath. “But the data is useless without the knowledge of how to use it, and there’s other data here, in this lab, that goes with it. Research, charts, etc. It’s all still here, under the ice.”

  It was only for a moment, but Atkins clearly saw an expression of frustration, of barely controlled rage, pass over Warner’s features, and then he was calm once more. “As I said, we can discuss that, Jim.”

  Now is not the time to play timid, Jim, he thought to himself. It’s time for hardball.

  “I think we can discuss that, Jack. Right now, as a matter of fact. You see, I need this data, this research, and I can’t spend the hours I need to in here without heat. It’s extremely valuable knowledge, and if it fell into the wrong hands, of someone who couldn’t appreciate or understand it, it might be… mishandled. And mishandled information can be very dangerous, don’t you think?”

  Warner looked confused for a moment. “Uh, yes. Yes, it can. We wouldn’t want the data mishandled, certainly.”

  “I mean, think of the repercussions if some of this information about the rescue and the lottery got out ahead of time. What if it were shared with people who wouldn’t get what we’re trying to do? Right? Wasn’t that your argument all along?” Atkins took a few steps forward. “Plans should be kept under control until the proper moment, don’t you think?” He tried to make his tone as menacing as possible.

  Warner looked puzzled for a moment more, then his puzzlement turned quickly to anger. “You wouldn’t!”

  Atkins smiled, a grim smile that he hoped conveyed ruthlessness. “What wouldn’t I do, Jack? To save the world?” He lowered his voice, taking another step forward. “And speaking of that lottery, how will you be picking those names, Dr. Warner? Do you think everyone will trust you to handle that responsibility? You and I both know any lottery you set up will damn sure spit out your name for the first flight.”

  Warner looked around outside the room, then came in and closed the door, shoving it against the ice buildup. “Keep your voice down!”

  “I’m happy to keep it down, Jack. I won’t tell a soul.”

  “Fine. You’ll get your heat.”

  “That’s not all. We draw lots. Everyone gets a fair chance. Unless I can come up with some other way to
get us all out of here.”

  Warner was fuming, and Atkins wondered if he’d pushed him too far. “Fine! Just keep quiet!” He turned and left, trying and failing to slam the door after him.

  Great. Now I’ve pissed him off. At least I’ll have heat, Atkins thought. Time to move those drives, too. As long as I’m the only one who knows where they are, Warner can’t cause me any ‘accidents.’ He needs me too bad.

  Atkins looked around the room once more. I just hope all this is worth it.

  “This could cause us problems,” said Harold Duncan, staring across the desk at Jack Warner.

  It was 4 a.m., so Warner’s office lights were off, as were those in the hall, and, for that matter, most of the building, and the heat was lowered as far as was safe in this part of the world. But the windows let in plenty of bright sunlight, ignoring their oh-so-human perception of time.

  “You think I don’t know that?” said Warner, running a hand through his thin hair and leaning forward on his forearms. “Of course I know that! It’s a problem, we’ll solve it, simple as that.”

  Harold grunted, but said nothing. In his experience, absolutely nothing in this life was “as simple as that.”

  “We’ll just have to be careful. See what they have planned, then come up with a solution. If and when they’re able to get here, we can hide the bodies. We can… silence Jennifer, if we have to.”

  Harold sat forward in his chair, not trying to hide his eagerness. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  Warner refused to meet his eyes. “She’s a problem, I’ll grant you that. So far, keeping her quiet has worked, but now… if they make it down here…”

  Harold just waited.

  “Yes, OK, something more… permanent… will have to be done. But let’s burn that bridge after we’ve crossed it, shall we?”

  Harold nodded. He was fine with that. As long as the bridge got burned, and he was the one doing the burning… well, he’d never been good with metaphors.