The Last Outpost

by Hannah Ross

  "Yes, listen to him," Nash nodded. "If you try to shoot, you will hit her," and he shielded himself by putting Manari in front of him, and holding the gun to the back of her head. She let out a frightened whimper.

  "Omrek, go," she said in a strangled voice. "I'm afraid he will kill you."

  "Let him," Omrek snarled. "I would rather be killed than have the shame of my woman taken away right in front of my eyes."

  "Nash, be reasonable," Scott spoke again. "You are in such big trouble already that you won't be able to dig yourself out of it as long as you live. You have violated the Antarctic Treaty, the appropriate usage of firearms clause, and about a hundred human rights clauses. You have stolen a helicopter, kidnapping the pilot along the way. If you put a stop to this now, you can improve your situation one tiny bit. Surrender at once, and we'll see what can be done for you."

  "You fool, Buckley," Nash said softly. "There are no more rules as you know them, don't you get it? The world out there is collapsing. The United States will never recover from this bloody war. The treaties, and agreements, and laws, and all sorts of humanitarian wishy-washy crap are worth nothing in the here and now. Right now, the only law is the survival of the fittest. The strong takes what he can for himself," he squeezed Manari again, "and the rest, well..." he shrugged. "Tough luck."

  For a few moments they remained poised like this – Nash with Manari on one side, the four men, two in orange parkas, two in fur and leather, on the other, and the great grey scaly beast watching them from its icy grave. In a fleeting observation, Scott thought that the ice looked more transparent than it had when he had come here with Ne Riorag, but it was probably just his imagination.

  His brain was working frantically, searching for ways to resolve this. The four of them were armed, and could take Nash in a matter of seconds, but nobody was willing to risk Manari's life. And if Nash was really expecting backup – he certainly sounded confident enough…

  Then, all of a sudden, Ne Tarveg lurched forward in a great leap, and before Nash knew what was happening, his right arm was in a vicelike grip. "Tarveg, no!" Omrek cried out desperately, while a shot reverberated through the air. It hit the rocks on one side, and a few crumbled and fell, making Scott, Petri and Omrek jump aside to avoid the slide of stone and ice. The rocks were unstable, as the revelation of the ancient monster had already proved, and a slide could easily trigger another one.

  "Don't be an idiot, Nash!" Scott shouted. "You could get us all buried here!"

  Manari, taking advantage of the scuffle in which Ne Tarveg was attempting to wrench the gun out of his opponent's hand, managed to free herself and ran straight into the arms of Omrek, who clasped her to his chest, caressing her hair and whispering soothing words. Scott experienced a momentary surge of relief, but that was short-lived, for two more shots rang out in succession – one made a dent in the ice wall behind Nash, and another hit Ne Tarveg, who finally managed to twist Nash's hand and throw the gun away, and was now straddling Nash from behind, keeping him motionless and, at the same time, smearing his enemy's clothes with a steady drip of his own bood. Nash, his face pressed against the rock, issued a string of muffled curses.

  "Tarveg, are you hurt?" Omrek cried out as they all rushed forward.

  "Nothing... to signify," Ne Tarveg panted, wrestling with Nash. "Come, give me some rope and let's tie him up."

  Suddenly, there was an ominous sound. It came from the ice wall. Scott looked up, and saw great cracks running from the place where the bullet hit the ice. His heart sank. An ice slide of this magnitude would doom them all. "Run for your lives!" he yelled.

  It was too late, however. The crack widened with alarming rapidity and, as the sound of breaking ice grew louder and the wall finally collapsed, they were all engulfed – not in fragments of solid ice, but in a flow of water.

  The geysers surrounding the Anai valley, ever shifting and unstable, have been at work here for a while, without anyone being aware of it. The hot water and steam had melted the ice sheet from behind, until the front wall had become, in essence, a dam, thinning day by day. The gunshot was just the final stroke to finish it off.

  Scott, gasping for air, was desperately focusing on holding his head above water, even while he looked around for his companions. Petri Karhu, who often boasted of swimming in ice-floe covered rivers in Finland, seemed to be doing fine. He was cursing in quite a vigorous manner as he took hold of Ne Tarveg's arm and hoisted it around his shoulders. "Hold on, pal, don't drown," he said, though it was doubtful Ne Tarveg could understand.

  No far from there, Omrek was supporting his wife, while his legs worked desperately under the water surface. Like most Anai men, he was a good swimmer, and the light sealskins were well fit to function as water-gear, but Manari was clearly in no condition to swim, and her weight was dragging him down. Scott began swimming in their direction to help them out. Nash, ever pragmatic and cool, was doing his best to get away from the rest of the party, while holding the radio transmitter between his teeth. Frankly, Scott didn't care three straws for him right now.

  In the first moments of confusion, he was unaware of another change wrought by the breaking of the ice dam – namely, that the ice surrounding the ancient monster had fallen away, and the beast had collapsed in an enormous dark heap. But then something else happened.

  The scaly heap stirred and omitted a loud, rumbling sound. At first, Scott was certain it must be another slide of ice or rock, but no – it came from the beast itself.

  Incredible as it was, the monster was alive.

  It raised its great scaly neck, threw back its mighty head, and roared, baring its countless long teeth. Everybody looked at it, mesmerized by horror.

  The water level was dropping as it was spreading down to other, lower parts of the narrow valley. It was about waist-high now, which, for the beast, was no more than a shallow puddle. It got up on its massive hind legs, stretched, and flapped its scaly wings. In a horrible, grotesque way, it resembled a cat getting up from its nap.

  Then, which was even more horrifying, it turned its head toward them and fixed its great yellow eyes upon them. It let out a growl.

  "The bane of the First Anai," Omrek whispered with bloodless lips.

  The beast's long, flexible neck twisted in the direction of the people. Scott had hardly any doubt that it was carnivorous and, after its long hibernation, it was sure to be hungry.

  The wings of the monster opened, flapped, and covered the sky in a great black shadow as it rose into the air. It made a circle above the rocky, rapidly lowering pool, and there was a scream, a desperate, high-pitched human scream, as it made a sharp dive down, snatched Victor Nash up between its long teeth, rose up again with its prey, and flew away in the direction of the sea.

  The others, soaking wet and horrified, remained standing in the water, which now only reached up to their knees. In the shock of what had just happened, it took them a few seconds to realize how cold they were. The freezing air was blowing from above, and their waterlogged clothes froze in icy sheets upon their bodies.

  "Come on," Scott said, his teeth chattering. "Let's get back to the valley, quick, before we all freeze to death."

  Chapter 21

  Freezing, shivering and slipping on the sheet of ice that was formed by the rapidly re-frozen water in the parts of the valley untouched by geyser activity, the companions descended back into the wider portion of the bay passage, and started back to the Anai Valley. Their teeth were chattering, their limbs were stiff and rapidly losing feeling, and every step was sheer agony, but they knew they had to keep going – they had no way to start a fire and thaw and dry their clothes, and staying in this place would mean freezing to death. Gritting their teeth, they progressed. Manari pulled herself together and now was walking at a good pace, Omrek's arm around her waist. Scott and Petri were supporting Ne Tarveg between them, each with an arm of the wounded man around his shoulders.

  Scott was starting to get worried about Ne Tarveg's wound. They h
ad sacrificed the hem of Manari's tunic to bandage the wound and stop the bleeding, but the bullet had lodged in his shoulder, and he was clearly in great pain, though he gritted his teeth and would not own it. He started by declaring he could walk as well as any of them, but now he and Petri were practically dragging him along, and with the heavy muscular weight of the warrior, this was no easy task. A weaker man would have passed out long ago. Ne Tarveg was clearly in need of medical help, and fast.

  Finally, they sighed with relief as the geyser activity was felt again, and they could slow down without the fear of freezing. Omrek spotted a smallish geyser jutting up its welcoming steam from a crevice between two rocks, and they all crowded around this blessed source of warmth for a bit of much-needed rest. Their clothes began to drip water at once, which was not very pleasant, but they forbore and turned around so that they could dry evenly on all sides.

  They laid Ne Tarveg down on a patch of last year's soft moss, close to the source of warm steam and as comfortable as they could get him without adequate bedding. He leaned his head back without speaking, and his lips grew white with pain.

  "I'm no doctor, but I sure hope this isn't lung collapse," Petri said to Scott in a low voice. "He's in no condition to walk. We'll have to carry him. I wish we had a stretcher."

  Scott nodded. He was engaged in the feat of trying to wring his clothes without actually taking them off. He turned his back to the geyser, and a cloud of vapor rose from inside his waterproof parka, where his underclothes had become drenched. It was extremely unpleasant. The Anai fared much better – they were dressed entirely in water-repellent sealskins, which were now drying quickly in the heat.

  "I'm starving," Omrek declared, "but I guess we'll hold on until we make it back. I wish we had something to give Ne Tarveg a bit of strength, though."

  After Scott had translated his words from Anai, Petri pulled out a small, tightly capped metallic flask from an inner pocket of his parka. "Here's something," he said, "that might do your friend good. Be careful, though – I doubt he's used to strong stuff like this."

  He uncapped the flask, and Scott felt a strong smell of distilled alcohol. He raised his eyebrows. There has been a great shortage of alcohol at McMurdo lately. "You might want to ask Jerry about this," Petri said, correctly interpreting his expression. He approached Ne Tarveg and, supporting the head of the half-conscious man, poured a glug of the liquor into his mouth. Ne Tarveg coughed and spluttered, but some of the color returned to his face, and he opened his eyes and nodded his thanks.

  The companions exchanged glances. Now that they were relatively safe, the horror of what had happened hit them in full force.

  "It is just as the old legends say," Omrek said quietly. "The monster rose from the ice to punish the unworthy."

  "What do you think will happen to it?" Petri asked nobody in particular. "Do you think there might be more... creatures like that lurking under the ice? Imagine if they begin to breed again and start a colony..." he shook his head, evidently torn between fascination and horror.

  "I doubt that's likely," Scott said, though he wasn't feeling very sure of that. "With the extreme temperatures out there, it won't survive long."

  "It might be driven back to the warmth of this valley," Petri pointed out.

  "That's right, Pete. Keep up the brighter prospect."

  "But did you see how splendid that creature was? It had flippers as well as wings, and I wouldn't be surprised if it swims as well as it flies. If it can get under the ice, and doesn't need to breathe very often, it can be preserved from freezing again. And it would have plenty of game. Nash wouldn't keep it from being hungry too long, I bet he was more like an appetizer..."

  Scott felt a chill run down his spine. As distasteful as Nash had been, he could not have wished such a gruesome end upon him. "It was just like a dragon from the ancient tales," he said quietly. "The only thing that lacked was for this creature to actually breathe a tongue of fire..."

  "A bit of a good fire wouldn't hurt us here," Petri said reasonably, rubbing his arms. Their clothes were now about as dry as they would be able to get without being taking off and thoroughly aired.

  "We had better get going, I think," Omrek said. "Any delay won't help Tarveg. Scott, I will help carry him the rest of the way. Manari is well enough to walk on her own now, I think."

  They hoisted Tarveg up, not unlike a seal being brought home from the hunt – a position which would surely have humiliated the Anai warrior, had he been in any condition to protest. After a rigorous march, exhausted, light-headed with hunger, their limbs aching with the weight of their companion, they crossed the river and reached the edge of the village.

  A small host of Anai warriors, all geared up for a march and carrying long spears, bows and stone hammers, met them on the outskirts of the settlements. It was led by Tahan, who had her bow slung behind her back, along with a full quiver of arrows. Overwhelmed by relief, she ran over to Scott and, on impulse, threw her arms around him. "Thank the Spirits, you are safe! And Omrek and Manari, too!" she proceeded to embrace her brother and his wife. "But Ne Tarveg..."

  Ne Riorag, ashen-faced with worry, elbowed his way forward. "What happened to my son?!" he called out desperately.

  "And where is that evil man who had tried to carry Manari off?" demanded one of her brothers.

  "You need not worry about him anymore," Scott said grimly. "Right now, the only thing that matters is Ne Tarveg. Tahan, would you get some men to help us carry him to your house? I'm afraid my arms are about to fall off."

  Half a dozen strong Anai men, directed by Tahan, carried Ne Tarveg into her house and laid him upon the bed. His damp clothes were stripped off and hung up to dry, and Tahan covered him with soft furs to keep him warm. Ne Riorag himself had cut off the bandage to examine his son's wound.

  "I have never seen anything like it," he said in a hollow voice. "There does not appear to be much blood, but this has weakened him greatly... it must be the power of the small deadly weapons the strangers carry..."

  The hut was packed with people. Besides Tahan and Ne Riorag, who wouldn't leave his son's side, Omrek and Manari were there as well, the latter holding little Egan in her lap, and Stanley and Jerry and Zoe. After the first moments of agitation, Scott noticed that Jerry was sporting a brilliant black and purple eye.

  "What happened?" he asked.

  Zoe shook her head and rolled her eyes. "You won't believe it, but somehow, Corby managed to wriggle out of the ropes and attempted to run. So Jerry, instead of calling for help, tried to tackle him single-handedly. The idiot," she added tenderly.

  "I gave him the old one-two," Jerry said, accepting a cup of the hot fermented brew Tahan was handing round.

  "You were nearly knocked out. If it weren't for those two fellows who ran in and secured him..."

  "But what really happened, Scott?" Tahan scrutinized. "Where is that evil man, Victor Nash?"

  Scott met her eyes. "He is dead. It is quite a story, Tahan, but right now we're in a hurry. Stanley," he turned to the pilot, "you will need to fly us back to McMurdo as fast as you can. We need to get this man to the hospital," he gestured in the direction of Ne Tarveg. Stanley nodded.

  "We might have to do two flights," he said. "I doubt we'll all fit in, counting the friends of Nash... unless you just want to dump them on the ice, in which case I won't blame you."

  "The prisoners can stay here for a day or two, under the supervision of the Anai. They won't try to escape if they know what's good for them. Ne Riorag," Scott addressed the older man, "we will need to take your son to our..." he searched for the proper word in Anai. "To our settlement. Our healers will be able to treat his wound properly. Do you understand?"

  Ne Riorag bit his lip. "Is my son in danger?" he asked quietly.

  "I hope not, but he needs help, and the sooner the better. We can't take him without your permission, though."

  "Ne Riorag," Tahan touched his shoulder, "trust Scott. He is a friend, and so are those who cam
e with him. They will help Ne Tarveg. Our healers have never seen wounds like his, they won't know what to do."

  Ne Riorag nodded. "I agree," he told Scott, "but I want to come as well. I want to be with my son."

  "Of course."

  Scott had his misgivings about how the old man would handle the flight in the helicopter, but he needn't have worried. Though Ne Riorag was evidently awed by the unfamiliar contraption, and his face grew greenish as the helicopter began to rise in the air and he looked down from the window – his fingers surreptitiously touched the glass, which was a substance entirely foreign to the Anai – he was much too focused on his son to be as fascinated by the trip as he would have been otherwise. He held Ne Tarveg's hand and bent his face low, and whispered a few words nobody could hear or discern.

  Their arrival at McMurdo caused a small sensation. They were met at the helicopter pad by a crowd of agitated people who had lots of questions and very few answers, but there was no time to linger. Scott called for a stretcher and a team of medics, and in a few minutes, the wounded man and his father were conveyed to the hospital, accompanied by Scott, Zoe and Jerry.

  Dr. Hope was professional enough to do her duty first and ask questions later, but once Ne Tarveg was admitted, treated and stabilized, she walked out of the room and met their anxious faces with a puzzled frown. "Scott, I believe I am entitled to some explanations. Who is this man? Where did you bring him from? What on earth is he wearing? Those two look absolutely wild, and they don't speak a word of English."

  "Oh, sorry, Julia," Scott clapped a hand to his forehead. "I'll go in to interpret for you, if you need me to. But how is he?"

  "Out of danger," Dr. Hope said succinctly, taking off her rubber gloves and throwing them into the trash can. "But Scott, I don't believe that bullet wound was an accident. Tell me what is going on. There's a circulating rumor that Victor Nash –"

  They both turned to the sound of hurried footsteps, and Scott found himself face to face with Sue Ellis, who was flushed with indignation.