The Last Outpost

by Hannah Ross

  "Sorry," he said, taking a gulp of coffee. "The water purification center was groaning under the strain, with so little energy to power the station. I never thought we'd have to count on the wind turbines so much, but thank goodness we have them."

  With the world crisis and the isolation, McMurdo now functioned more like a settlement, the primary object of which was to keep itself running, and less like a research station. Research programs ground to a halt, with scientists unable to communicate with their supervisors and receive feedback from the programs that were supposed to fund them. Petri Karhu, the Finnish marine biologist, discovered a new talent as a repairman, and helped to seal a few drafty openings in the roof of building 155. Scott noticed him a few tables away, shoveling down hash potatoes and sausages.

  "You slept alright?" Scott asked, watching Zoe carefully and noticing dark circles under her eyes.

  "Passably. I think I need more of Jerry's tea. I helped him fertilize the tomatoes yesterday, and it did me good to get away from the communications center for a bit. It's more like a non-communications center these days," she shook her head ruefully. "People keep approaching me and demanding that their emails go through, as if it's in my power," she rolled her eyes.

  "That's irrational, but we must have patience. People are worried about their families." Scott attempted to email his family almost daily. Most of his emails bounced back, and those that went through remained unanswered.

  Jerry came over to join them, a stack of pancakes towering on his plate. "Morning, everyone. Isn't the sun bright and lovely today?"

  Zoe rolled her eyes. Jerry has been making this quip daily since the last sunset. "Have a cup of coffee, Jerry. It seems you aren't really awake yet."

  "On the contrary," he said, his mouth full of pancake. "I've been up since 5, and went to the gym to kill time until breakfast. By the way, Zoe, I think you can have these pancakes. They make them vegan now, saving on eggs. It's a pity the regulations don't allow us to keep a few hens here. Foreign organisms and all that, you know."

  "Hey," Zoe said in a low voice, elbowing Scott in the ribs, "look over there. It's Nash."

  Scott looked. He had had remarkably little contact with Nash lately, and the little that could not be avoided was carried on in a stiff, official manner, mainly through notes and messages passed through the local network. Now he was surprised to see that Nash, usually taciturn and solitary, was huddled together with a group of people, and talking rapidly in a low voice.

  "I wonder what he's up to," Scott said. He had a feeling this couldn't be anything good.

  His premonition proved to be right. Contrary to his habit of the last weeks, around midmorning Nash knocked on his office door. "Can I come in?" he asked, stepping in at the same time. Scott glanced up from his laptop.

  "I suppose, since you are already in. What is the matter?"

  Nash sat in the chair in front of him, and the corner of his mouth twitched. "Oh, nothing," he said. "Nothing at all, except a global war, a total chaos all over the world, and our complete isolation."

  "Get to the point, Nash."

  "I don't know how carefully you've been reading the supply accounts," Nash said, "but it isn't very likely we're going to pull through the winter without starving."

  Scott raised an eyebrow. "Well, it so happens that, despite your advice, I ordered nearly twice the usual amount of supplies, and nearly all of them arrived before the communications closed."

  "Yes, but in case you haven't noticed, we have three times more people than we expected to stay through the winter. The food is already substandard – the cooks are stingy with fresh meat, there's hardly any milk left, eggs are rationed, and that pathetic little greenhouse is not enough to supply the vegetables. Soon, people will begin to grumble."

  "Of course, if someone is constantly busy harping on about how lousy the food is," Scott said drily. "So what? So we won't have gourmet fare throughout the winter. We'll tighten our belts a little until the spring, and have a little more canned meat and beans than we might like. It won't kill anybody."

  "I don't know why you're so sure that the communications and supply lines will be renewed come spring. We don't know what is going on out there. For all we know, the next sunrise will find us stranded on the edge of a ruined world, with no means of getting out of Antarctica, or shipping supplies here."

  "So what are you driving at? Don't get going about hunting or fishing again – there’s no justification to do that, and I won't hear about it until it's a matter of life and death, Nash."

  "Trying to fish or hunt in this infernal darkness won't do us much good. But I know, and you know, too," Nash lowered his voice, "where we can get stores of fresh, abundant supplies. The Anai put up a lot for winter storage. They can share."

  There was a nasty, vicious, greedy expression on Victor's face, which Scott didn't like at all.

  "I won't permit you to rob the Anai, Nash. You don't have clearance to go into the AN-85 zone, and none of us have the authority to interfere with the people of that valley."

  "Authority!" Nash snarled. "Don't you realize that whatever pathetic little guidelines the U.S. Antarctic Program may impose, they are worth shit in the current circumstances? Why should we be the only ones rationing food? The Anai are gorging themselves on whale and seal meat, with a zillion calories and a heap of fat at each meal. They can give us their extras. And if things come to worst, and we no longer have energy enough to heat the station, we can all move to that valley and away from this goddamn cold."

  "You are just looking for excuses to exploit these people, Nash," Scott said, his anger rising.

  "I'm looking for ways to survive!" Nash exploded. "And if the wishy-washy rules of the Antarctic Program don't put much stock in our lives, well, I say –”

  "I don't care what you say," Scott got up from his chair, and his eyes, cold and ruthless, bore into those of his adversary. "You are an egocentric douchebag, Nash, and I'm going to keep a very close eye on you from now on. This is a warning. Now get out of my sight."

  Nash obeyed. As days passed, Scott saw less and less of him in person, though he still found curt notes saying, 'here is the data for this month's report' or 'the hospital has exceeded its energy allotment'. He replied in writing, in an equally impersonal manner. Frankly, he didn't miss Victor's company, and hoped to avoid it for as long as possible – preferably until the station could connect with the outside world again. He would do all he can to get Nash to leave, Scott decided... or he would leave himself.

  Still, Nash displayed some signs of suspicious behavior. Several times, Scott spotted him deep in quiet discussion with a group of people, in a quiet corner of the galley or in the corridors. Those were usually the same people, and Nash didn't particularly look as if he liked to be seen talking to them. The conversations would inevitably break off as soon as he caught Scott's eye.

  Scott was uneasy. He had a distinct feeling Nash is up to something. But then, what could he do? People were allowed to confer. It was not against the law. Still, he watched Nash more carefully and stealthily than ever.

  Chapter 17

  About three weeks after celebrating the start of winter with the Anai, Scott made the – many would say reckless – decision to snowmobile to the valley on his own. The station was just running the daily operations, most science and research activity has slowly stopped, and there wasn't very much for him to do. The AN-85 team wasn't planning to go out anytime soon, and though Scott knew that him venturing that far alone, and in the Antarctic night, too, did not quite comply with the safety regulations, he still counted on a relatively safe journey. The weather, though windy, was clear, and there was plenty of light from the auroras.

  As predicted, he had reached AN-85 safely, and was congratulating himself on his successful journey as he went down. He relished the growing warmth and moisture, so very welcome to him after the freezing dryness of the terrain high up. His fingertips, which had turned icy, began to thaw, and as he reached the edge of t
he valley he took off his orange parka, rummaged in his backpack, unfolded the sealskin parka Tahan had made for him, and put it on. He liked the idea of her seeing him wear it as he approached.

  He could see the village in the celestial shimmer of the auroras. It was full of twinkling lights, as people burned whale oil lamps all through the long night. He walked slowly, enjoying the sense of familiarity this place now had for him. As he reached the village, well before he was within sight of Tahan's house, he saw the building site of Omrek's new home.

  The house walls were done, and the place was a buzz of activity as the men were putting on the rafters. These were made out of long pieces of whalebone, secured together by tight ropes of fiber. The whole construction would be then smothered with clay, binding it together and preventing the ropes from rotting. Finally, waterproof sealskins, sewn tightly together, would be pulled over the top and secured with ivory hooks.

  Someone was currently straddling the roof, binding the rafters, while other men were waiting below, mixing the dense clay. Looking closer, Scott noticed that the man on top was Omrek himself. Tahan's brother squinted down, and it took a second for him to recognize the visitor.

  "Scott!" he called out, letting himself down from the roof in one agile movement. "I didn't recognize you at once, wearing this parka. You always know to come at just the right time! The house is nearly ready – there is just one day's work in spreading and burning the clay, and then we'll put on the leather flaps over the door and window. And then the next day," he went on triumphantly, "Manari and I will be joined together as man and woman of one hearth! You will stay, of course. You will be an honored guest."

  "Thank you, Omrek. Do you want me to climb up and lend a hand?"

  "If you feel like spreading some clay, come – but first, I suppose, you will want to go and greet Tahan."

  Though made a little self-conscious by this supposition, Scott wouldn't dispute it, and went on down the familiar path. It began to drizzle, as it not unfrequently did in the Anai valley, the weather being warm and moist enough to allow condensation of clouds and rain, and he felt sorry for Omrek for having to deal with slick, sticky clay in this weather.

  As he approached Tahan's house, he was surprised to hear the exchange of two voices within. One was obviously Tahan's, the other belonged to a man – an older man, by the sound of it. To alert them of his coming, Scott stopped just outside the entrance flap, and clapped his hands once. In a moment, he heard the sound of steps, and Tahan pulled the flap aside. "Scott," she smiled upon him, "this is a surprise. Come inside – I have a visitor."

  Upon seeing Scott, little Egan, who had been playing quietly in the corner with his ivory animal figures, ran over to him and pulled on his pant leg, demanding to be lifted up and tossed into the air. Scott picked up the little boy and, straightening up, observed Tahan's visitor – a very dignified-looking man sitting cross-legged on a sealskin cushion, sipping hot herb tea out of a clay cup. It was hard to tell his age – he might have been in his fifties or sixties, judging by his grey hair and deeply lined face, but his upright posture belonged to a man no older than thirty.

  "Scott, this is one of our elders," Tahan said in Anai. "Ne Riorag, this is..."

  "I know," Ne Riorag said, getting up. He grasped arms with Scott in a formal manner. "Our friend from beyond the sea. Be welcome. Though I am the father of Ne Tarveg," he went on, "I don't share my son's prejudices against foreigners."

  "We were just talking about something – something we recently found," Tahan said.

  "You are called Scott, yes?" Ne Riorag said. "Tahan tells me you have been to the Cave of Spirits, and learned some tales of the Anai people."

  "I had that honor, yes," Scott replied in his best Anai.

  "Then you had better see it with your own eyes. Perhaps you, as a man from beyond the sea, can bless us with knowledge we don't have. If Tahan approves," the elder added, looking at the chieftainness.

  "Of course, Ne Riorag. I'd say it's a good thought."

  "See what?" Scott didn't understand. Neither of the two answered.

  "Tahan, I know you must be busy, preparing for the celebration of your brother establishing his hearth with Re Manari. It is a long walk. Allow me to take Scott myself."

  "Thank you, Ne Riorag. It would be best, I think, if you can take the trouble."

  "Don't worry. We'll be back in good time to celebrate Ri Omrek's and Manari's new hearth."

  Scott gave Tahan a puzzled look, but she merely nodded, and pursed her lips ever so slightly, as if she wanted to say something else to him, but refrained. Depositing Egan on the grass mat, Scott followed Ne Riorag out of the hut. The Anai man's walk was so brisk it was a challenge to keep up with him.

  "I had planned to go by myself, just to have another look," Ne Riorag said, "but I am glad you are coming with me. I have some provisions here – dried fish and dried meat and some grain cakes – which should be enough for both of us, if we eat sparingly and walk quickly."

  "But where are we going?" Scott asked.

  "You will soon see," the older man replied mysteriously.

  Ne Riorag led him down the way to the river, and then by way of the stepping-stones across it, much like Scott had walked with the Anai men on the way to the bay to hunt. Due to the warmth of the valley, the river seldom froze, but there were some floes of ice on the surface of the water, and the water itself was icy. Ne Riorag passed the slippery stepping-stones as if they were just another part of the path, and continued his brisk walk forward.

  "Are we going to the bay?"

  "No," Ne Riorag said. "Fear not, it is not quite so far. But you'd better pull on the hood of your parka," he said, doing the same thing himself. "It is about to get very cold."

  Scott knew that. As soon as they got away from the blessed zone of the geysers, which gave warmth and life to the valley, the ice and wind of Antarctica hit full blast. Soon, he was shivering with cold as he bent double against the wind, the bite of which was merciless despite the tall rock walls still surrounding them.

  "It is always a marvel to me," Ne Riorag said, "how the spirits had made the valley so warm, and had given it to the First Anai to live in. Surely it was a great gift – but it did come with a price. The valley was not empty when the First Anai came. You know how to read our letters, do you not?"

  "I have learned some, yes," Scott said.

  "Then you know about the great beasts the First Anai had to fight in order to make a home in the valley." Quite without warning, Ne Riorag turned into a narrow, barely noticeable crevice in the rock, which was apparently a side passage of some sort. Scott followed him, puzzled. The rock trail was deep and narrow, and while the protection from the wind was a blessing, Scott could have wished the rocks didn't tower over them so closely and ominously. Their snow-capped blackness was suffocating, and their nooks and crevices looked as if they were shifting in the intermittent greenish light of the aurora. Finally, they came to a bend in the path, and Ne Riorag stopped and faced Scott.

  "Here," he said, "was a collapse of some sliding rock. Several of our men had happened to be in the area, heard the noise, and decided to look more closely. The rock tumbled down, and it turned out it covered a thick ice sheet. Now the ice is exposed. Come and see."

  Scott did not understand any of this, but he allowed Ne Riorag to lead him on, beyond the bend, where the earth was covered with rocks and boulders, and an immense ice sheet glimmered dully in the dancing lights of the Antarctic sky. The ice sheet formed a huge wall, and Scott admired it as a natural phenomenon, still not understanding what on earth...

  He stepped back and gasped. In a single moment when the aurora had flashed more brightly across the sky, he saw something within the ice. It was dark and coiled, and its shape was very distinctive. Yet it could not be...

  Ne Riorag lit an oil lamp and held it aloft. "Look," he told Scott, but he need not have said this. Scott could hardly keep his eyes off what he saw within the ice wall.

  It was a beas
t taller than many men would be, had they all stood on one another's shoulders. It was huge and scaly, like a giant lizard, with an open, snarling mouth full of long, carnivorous teeth. Its hind legs were like those of an enormous water bird, with flippers, and the front legs ended with three sharp talons each. Its scales, dark grey, had a bluish sheen, possibly lent to it by the thickness of ice. It had wings – huge, leathery wings like those of an enormous bat. They were spread wide, as if the beast was about to take off in flight. Its bright yellow eyes with vertical snake-like pupils were open, and looked malevolently. It was as if it froze all at once, mid-movement, and could wake again at any moment.

  "I... what..." Scott could barely speak. He turned to Ne Riorag. "This is –"

  "One of the monstrous beasts chased away from the valley by the First Anai," the elder nodded. "If you doubted our writings, now you must know they are true. Tell me, man from across the sea, have you ever seen anything like it?"

  "No," Scott said slowly. That the great beast was some ancient reptile, he now could not doubt. He could only wonder how many other such specimens were buried, perfectly preserved, in or below the ice. "We know that such animals have existed a long, long time ago," he went on, "but I have only ever seen bones."

  "Our legends say," Ne Riorag said, "that the monsters of the valley are buried deep, deep below. It is said that they would only be uncovered as a warning, to test whether the Anai of today are as brave as their ancestors had been. Now you see this great beast, looking as if it could come to life if only this great wall of ice would melt. What am I to make of it, as an elder of the Anai?"

  ***

  They made the way back in silence. The darkness was unchanging at this time of the year, but judging by the position of the stars, Scott could tell it was evening. They heard the beating of drums from afar, and knew that the villagers were preparing to celebrate the establishment of the new hearth of Ri Omrek and Manari.