The Last Outpost

by Hannah Ross

  Scott drank, and it felt like the draught of heaven. "I'm fine," he said, and attempted to get up, but his legs were wobbly. Jerry's firm arm around his waist allowed him to assume a standing position.

  "We suspected some sort of dirty game," he said. "As soon as the blizzard died down, Nash and a few of his cronies took off in a helicopter, refusing to explain anything and claiming that you had given your instructions. We knew, however, that something was off."

  Scott moaned in frustration. "How long ago was it?"

  "About half an hour, I think," Zoe said, checking her watch. "We began looking for you all over the station at once, hoping you'd explain things. The greenhouse was one of the last places we thought we'd look in."

  "We must go after Nash at once," Scott said. "The second chopper is here, isn't it?"

  "Yes," Jerry said, "but they had taken both pilots – claimed they needed the other one as backup. Stanley tried to argue, but they bullied him into obedience. Nash spewed something about 'national security'... I doubt Stan bought this, but he had little choice."

  "Goddamn it! Does anyone else know how to fly a chopper? Try to remember, and quick."

  Zoe bit her lip. "I think that Finnish guy, Petri Karhu, has a license to fly a helicopter. He told us he did this in the army. But Buck, this isn't really –"

  "No matter. If he can keep us airborne, it's good enough right now. We must stop Nash."

  "Do you have an idea where he might have gone, then?" Jerry asked.

  "Yes," Scott said grimly, "I believe I do."

  Chapter 19

  "Perkele," Petri Karhu cursed under his breath, just as he did whenever he lent a hand around the station and received a blow to his fingers with a hammer. "I haven't done this since the army, and you don't want to know how many years passed," he added apologetically, as the chopper made a threatening dive and straightened abruptly, shaking its passengers like beans in a dry pod.

  "It's alright, Pete. Just do your best," Zoe said. Her voice was muffled, since she was pressing a tissue to her mouth with both hands. Jerry, too, looked slightly greensick.

  "And my weapon license isn't valid, either," Petri went on, with a warning look at Scott. "Just so you know."

  "It doesn't matter," Scott said, "as long as you know how to use it."

  There were very few firearms on Antarctica, a place celebrated as a haven of international treaties, peace and non-violence, but at a station as large as McMurdo, some weapons were kept for law enforcement just in case, in a secure deposit box. When Scott looked, he realized that Nash had dipped into the stash of guns, taking four. He, too, took four – handing one apiece to Jerry and Zoe as well, despite their protests and Zoe's declarations that she wouldn't know one end of a gun from another. He gave them an extra quick one-minute gun-handling course, and prayed for the best.

  "I wonder," Jerry said slowly, "why Nash took guns with him. It's not like they are hunting rifles – lately, he has kept going on about how the station is under-supplied, and we can't be expected to survive the winter on canned and processed food, when there's plenty of fresh meat to be found out there..."

  "I never liked Nash, but I didn't think he could be so primitive," Zoe wrinkled her nose.

  Scott was silent. He felt a sickening swoop at the bottom of his stomach when he thought what Nash might be doing with firearms in the peaceful valley of the Anai. Though, to be honest, the swoop might also have been due to another lurch of the helicopter.

  "Sorry," Petri said, launching into another string of Finnish curses under his breath.

  "It's OK, Pete. We're nearly there anyway."

  "AN-85," Petri squinted at the map Scott supplied him with – the GPS locator was having more blips than ever with the satellites all out of whack. "I've heard of the area, but I don't have clearance to go there."

  "Neither does Nash," Scott said. "There, see that helicopter pad down below? And there's the other chopper, too? We've arrived."

  "Alright," Petri said, "hold on, now..."

  For a second, Scott was afraid the chopper would crash into a nearby wall of black volcanic rock, but Petri managed to get them safely on land, after which he leaned back in the pilot's seat and let out a long sigh of relief. "Well, now what? I see no sign of anyone around here. Where could they have gone?"

  "Follow me," said Scott and, with the assurance of an experienced guide, started leading everyone down the trail leading into the Anai valley,

  "Where are we going?" Zoe said after a while, panting. "For heavens' sake, Scott, don't go so fast. I nearly slipped just now, trying to keep up with you."

  "Never mind," Scott said. "Keep your weapons out and ready, and remember which side is the one that shoots."

  Petri Karhu stopped for a second, and directed the beam of his flashlight at one of the rock walls flanking the trail. "Lichen," he said with great interest, "and plenty of it, too. Not my field of expertise, but it seems to me that in the local climate –"

  "Drop it right now, Pete," advised Jerry. A few minutes later, however, he called out, "hey, Scott, is it just my imagination, or is it a lot warmer down here?"

  Petri sniffed the air and pulled a thermometer out of his pocket. "Sulphur," he said. "And yes, it's definitely warmer. There must be geyser activity in this area."

  Scott gritted his teeth. "Please," he said, "stay focused. There will be time for these observations later, once we deal with Nash."

  He practically bounded down into the valley, the other three running to keep up with him. "What on earth," Petri panted and threw back the hood of his parka. "There's barely any snow – barely cold enough for snow – Scott, what –"

  He stopped in his tracks, and so did Jerry and Zoe. The latter gasped. They have finally seen it – the village of the Anai, with its hive-like stone houses and the twinkling lights of its oil lamps. They heard agitated voices, and a group of Anai warriors shot by, brandishing long spears. "I must be losing my mind," Jerry said, rubbing his eyes. "Scott, what is this... this place? Have you ever been here before?"

  But then there was another sound, horrible and familiar – the shot of a gun, which reverberated throughout the valley. "Come on!" Scott shouted, and ran towards the village. He had told Tahan something about guns, but the vast majority of the Anai were kept in the dark about the potential deathliness of these metallic objects.

  The scene of terror appeared before their eyes in a moment. Near one of the houses, two of the men Scott recognized as the pals of Victor Nash were holding a crowd of terrified Anai at gunpoint. The gun held by one of the men was smoking, and from the direction in which it was pointing, Scott guessed that the gunshot had just shattered a large clay pot at his feet.

  "Next one goes into one of you," the man snarled, apparently unware of the fact that his audience could hardly understand English. "Unless you tell us where you keep the food. Food, you understand, you old bastard?" he repeated, pointing his gun right in the face of an older Anai man, who stood before him straight, fearless and dignified. With a jolt, Scott recognized Ne Riorag. The other man kept roving his gun around, and the Anai flinched away – apparently, the one shot they had seen served to teach them enough of what firearms can do.

  Scott made a motion to the others, and lunged forward. It might have been a rash move, as he didn't know exactly how many men had come with Nash, and how many were out here somewhere, but he couldn't help himself. "Hands up and guns on the ground!" he roared. "Your little detour is over, you bastards!"

  With very surprised, very ugly scowls, the two criminals dropped their guns and slowly raised their arms. The crowd of Anai swooped upon them and got them firmly tied up in a matter of seconds. "Pick up their guns, Jerry, but be careful," Scott instructed. At that moment, however, another man from McMurdo flipped aside the entrance flap and got out of the house, holding yet another Anai man at gunpoint. The assailant's name was Jed Corby, and he was yet another one of those who had gotten all chummy with Nash in the past weeks. The man he was holding hosta
ge was Ne Tarveg.

  Instantly taking in the commotion, Corby coiled one arm around Ne Tarveg's neck, pointing the gun to his temple. The Anai man snarled and gritted his teeth, but apparently had enough sense not to move. "Let us all go at once," he demanded, looking at Scott, "or I shoot him."

  Scott shrugged his shoulders with feigned indifference. "You can shoot him. It doesn't matter to us, and it won't save you. You've made a big mistake, Corby." He looked sideways at Ne Riorag, however, and gave the elder a tiny, barely perceptible, apologetic shake of the head. Ne Riorag nodded ever so slightly, indicating that he understood.

  Corby scowled. "We'll see about that. Easy, now, or your savage pal gets his brains blown out. Tell them to release Jim and Fred at once, and bring out a nice load of their good fresh meat. We'll be going back now. We can come some other time for all their fine ivory –"

  He fell silent, for he found himself looking in the barrel of Petri Karhu's gun. The Finn squinted at him with a hard, determined expression. "Keep blabbing and I will shoot," he said. "I don't miss from such a distance, Corby, so cut the shit. Where is Stanley? Where is that goddamn bastard Nash?"

  Corby scowled with disdain. "You shut your mouth. And, if you have anything better than mush in that fat head of yours, join us. You don't owe anything to the U.S. None of us owes anything to anyone anymore. We must survive, and these stupid savages here –"

  He didn't finish the sentence. A gunshot sounded in the air, and he fell down in a heap upon the ground, moaning and cursing and trying to stem the flow of blood from his arm. Ne Tarveg leapt sideways, massaging his throat and uttering curses, the gist of which was his intention to dispose of Corby at once.

  "Easy, now," Scott said, pushing forward. "Don't kill him – we need to take him alive." He pulled out the first aid kit out of his backpack and, with no great gentleness, stemmed the blood flow. The gunshot wound was precise and not life threatening, as far as he could judge. "Tie him up," he said in Anai, which caused his companions to shoot puzzled glances in his direction. "We'll deal with him later. Where is Tahan?" he demanded of Ne Riorag.

  "In her home – safe, I think, but –"

  Scott turned to his friends. Petri was ashen-faced, and his teeth were clenched.

  "I bluffed," he said. "I did miss from such a distance, plenty of times. And I've never shot a man before."

  "You did brilliantly, Pete. Now pull yourself together. You keep a close eye on these three," he told the Anai, picking up Corby's gun. "Where is Nash, Ne Riorag?" he asked the elder. "You know whom I mean. The man –"

  "The evil one, Father," Ne Tarveg interjected. "He's still in the village, hiding in one of the houses. We must find him."

  "Be careful," Scott warned. "Don't do anything rash. He's armed, and these little things can kill," he added, brandishing Corby's gun for emphasis. Then, unable to restrain himself any longer, he bolted towards Tahan's house, his three friends on his heels. "Tahan!" he called. "Tahan, it is me!"

  She pushed the leather flap aside, and an expression of immense relief spread upon her face. Egan, frightened-looking, was clasped in her arms, and hid his face on his mother’s shoulder. "Scott, thank the Spirits!" she pressed his hand, and gave his companions a fleeting, curious look. "That evil man, Victor Nash..."

  "I know. I know it all. The men are looking for him now, and we'll take him in soon. Are you fine? Did these bastards hurt anyone? Where is Omrek?"

  "Omrek is out there – no, I don't think anyone is hurt. But Scott, there is another man right in here..."

  Before she could finish talking, Stanley walked out, looking thoroughly miserable. "Buck, I'm so sorry," he said. "Please believe me, I didn't want to cooperate. But the son of a bitch held a gun to my head, and told me I'm dead meat if I don't fly them to AN-85. Fred, the other pilot, is in league with them. I ran away as soon as I noticed they weren't looking."

  "It's alright, Stan," Scott said. "No one is blaming you."

  "You know, I've always thought there was something about AN-85..."

  There was another commotion outside, alarmed voices, a shout. Jerry and Zoe exchanged frightened glances and held on tighter to their guns. "Damn it," Scott uttered under his breath, "it must be Nash. Tahan, you stay inside. You too, Stan. Take care of yourselves." There was no point to tell them to try and block the entrance – the Anai houses had no proper doors, there being virtually no violence or theft among these people.

  They dashed outside, and Scott saw Nash at once. He stood in the midst of a crowd of agitated onlookers, holding a terrified young Anai woman at gunpoint. With a dreadful, sinking feeling, Scott recognized Manari. Omrek was there as well, straining against the arms of four men who weren't letting him lunge at Nash.

  "Keep him away from me – all keep away from me, or I shoot her!" the voice of Nash carried on in the air, cold and clear. Scott stepped forward.

  "Game over, Nash. Your little friends are caught, and there's nobody to fly you out of here. Now let her go and drop your gun."

  Nash observed him with an ugly scowl. "Ah, you're here, Buckley? I had counted on more time, I confess... but never mind. I'm not going back to McMurdo. There are other research bases nearby, you know, and some people who have a more reasonable approach as to what is due to us, as civilized human beings. They will be very happy to hear about this valley and all its resources, which will come in handy for us. So I'll be off, and I'm taking this pretty little thing with me," with a sickening expression, he caressed Manari's cheek with a finger, and the young woman recoiled. "Some company won't hurt me, I think. Don't follow me, though – I'd hate to shoot her, but I'll have to resort to that if you leave me no choice."

  Having said that, Nash spun around and started in the direction of the river and the sea passage, driving the frightened Manari before him.

  "Manari! Manari!" Omrek called desperately.

  "After him," Scott commanded. "No, not everyone – it's too risky. I want a small group that moves quickly. Jerry and Zoe, you stay in the village and keep an eye on the prisoners. Pete, Omrek, Tarveg, come with me."

  Petri and Scott had their guns, Omrek his bow, Ne Tarveg his spear. Without waiting another second, they sprinted in the direction of Nash, who was already crossing the river. "Damn it, he's quick," said Petri. "Scott, once we are done with this nightmare, you owe me hours of explanations. Come on."

  Chapter 20

  They sprinted after Nash as fast as they could, slowing down by necessity when they got to the slick, mossy stepping-stones of the river. By the time they crossed, Nash was already out of sight, but they saw his tracks, all jumbled together with the tracks of Manari, down the path leading to the bay. They hurried after him, with Omrek calling out the name of his wife from time to time, his voice echoing off the rocks.

  "You had better keep silent, Omrek," Scott said breathlessly. "Manari might be afraid to shout, and if you keep at it, Nash will know exactly where we are." Omrek listened and fell quiet, though it was evident that silence was hard work. He kept chewing on his lip, and anxiety was etched in every line of his face.

  "Don't worry," said Ne Tarveg, his expression set and grim. "We'll catch this son of darkness. He has no way to go on but to the bay."

  Scott and Petri exchanged a glance. If Nash had a portable radio, and if he was really in touch with one of the other bases... they had tried to keep a network of connection between the research stations, and unfortunately, Scott knew that in some of them, people have become desperate because of the situation around the globe, and stopped respecting the Antarctic Treaty. If one of them was unscrupulous enough to harbor a criminal...

  They went on. "Damn," Petri said, voicing the obvious, "we have lost his tracks."

  "Impossible," Omrek said, his jaw set. He bent low to the ground, studying it in the flickering light of the aurora. Scott helped him by turning on his flashlight, and they were able to see that the tracks swerved sideways. With a jolt, Scott recognized the very path down which Ne Riorag led him when they
went to look at the giant reptile frozen in ice.

  "He's trying to bluff," Petri said in a low voice. "The bastard!"

  "He's chosen the wrong path, then," said Scott. "It's a dead end." He was not quite sure of that, though. Nash could have attempted to climb up, and if his radio signal worked, and another station had a helicopter or snowmobile team to pick him up, they would never catch up with him.

  This concern proved futile, however – they came face to face with Nash just in front of the great ice wall, from inside which the enormous ancient beast was glaring at them with its motionless, glinting yellow eyes. Petri gasped at the sight of it, but Omrek, incensed, had no eyes but for his terrified wife, who was still held at gunpoint by Nash. Ne Tarveg clutched his spear and stared at the frozen monster.

  "It is just as my father told me," he said quietly in Anai.

  "Fascinating, isn't it?" Nash said mockingly, following their glances. "It's far more impressive than the Siberian mammoth. A treasure for paleontologists."

  "We're not here to discuss science, Nash," Scott said through gritted teeth. "Release this woman, drop your weapon, come quietly, and no one needs to get hurt."

  Nash smirked. "Why don't we talk about other options, Buckley? I just sent out a radio signal. I have friends who will be here in a few minutes, to fly me way with this pretty thing," he squeezed Manari's arm with a twisted smile. "So you turn and walk away, and I will let you go quietly – but when you come back to that valley, get these savages to understand that they are to make some room for civilized people. We have just as much right to be warm and snug and well-fed as they do."

  While he was speaking, Omrek raised his bow, fit an arrow, and aimed. He understood enough English to justify the cold and murderous expression that appeared on his face. He drew his arm back in a slow, precise motion.

  "Omrek," Scott said quietly, so as not to provoke him, "Omrek, please don't do this. You don't want to put Manari in danger."