Polar Quest

by Alex Archer

  “Annja Creed?”

  “That’s me.”

  “Climb on in—weather’s getting worse. I want to get you back to town before it gets any nastier out here.”

  Annja hustled over to the Sno-Cat and heaved her duffel bag into the open door before climbing up on part of the tracks and sliding into the passenger compartment herself.

  As soon as she did, she felt a bellows of heat pumping up between her legs. The interior windows were coated with condensation. The driver next to her held out his hand.

  “Dave Rasmudsen. Geology.”

  Annja shook his hand. “Annja Creed. I have no idea why I’m here.”

  He laughed. “I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.” He pointed at the vents. “Too warm in here? Myself, I like to keep it toasty in the cat. But some folks like it a bit more temperate.”

  “As long as I don’t show up all sweaty, I think I’ll be fine for the trip back. How long does it take?”

  “About a half hour,” Dave said.

  “That long?” Annja asked.

  Dave patted the dashboard. “This thing doesn’t do sixty, so we have to settle for a snail’s crawl. But she does the job she was designed to do, which is to say she gets us where we need to go and does it without complaining. So, that said, I can’t complain if she takes a little bit of time to do so.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Where you hailing from?”

  “New York,” Annja said.

  Dave nodded. “I’m outside Anchorage, myself.”

  Annja smiled. “So this kind of weather doesn’t really bother you, huh?”

  He grinned. “Well, that depends. Now, it’s true Alaska has herself some of the nastiest weather around, especially out on the Bering Sea, but Antarctica can give her a run for her money if she wants. I’ve been here before in storms that would make you get down and hide under your bed. Winds howling and screaming outside—you wonder if the station is going to hold or if you’ll be buried in snow.”

  “Sounds delightful,” Annja said.

  He laughed. “It’s not bad. I gotta be honest with you, I love her. I mean, where else can you get access to the kind of rocks and soil I can study here? We’ve got projects going on right now that can tell us mounds of info about what happened millions of years ago. It’s tremendous stuff.”

  “Or you could be a truck driver.”

  Dave grinned. “Exactly. You know what I’m talking about. We only get one shot—we have to live her the best way we know how.”

  “You married, Dave?” Annja asked.

  He looked surprised. “Me? No, no chance of that. I’m afraid I place my career ahead of everything else. Too much to study and not enough time to devote to a family. I dunno. Maybe that’ll change one day, but not anytime soon. I’ve just got too much to do.”

  And too much to say, Annja thought.

  “Why do you ask, anyway?” Dave said.

  “Just that I noticed you use ‘her’ a lot when you’re describing things. I thought there might be a logical explanation for it.”

  Dave nodded. “Oh, there is, there is. My father used to use that all the time. I guess after he died, I kind of took it to heart and started using it as a way of maybe remembering him better on a daily basis.”

  Annja smiled. “That’s awfully insightful of you.”

  “I just miss him is all,” Dave said. He took a breath and flicked the wipers as snow started coming down outside.

  Annja glanced back over her seat. In the darkness, she could barely make out the LC-130 sitting in the snow as it was refueled.

  “Will they be able to get out of here?” she asked.

  Dave nodded. “Those guys? They’re amazing. You know you landed on skis, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, invariably, what ends up happening is the skis stop the plane through friction. Yep, the pilot doesn’t even use the throttle or brakes to control her when she comes in.”

  “How nice to know that after I’m already here,” Annja said.

  Dave laughed. “Yep, they don’t tell you that ahead of time, no siree.”

  Annja smiled. “Go on.”

  “So the friction melts the snow, you know? Then once the plane stops, the melted ice refreezes pretty darned quick and keeps the plane in place. You might have noticed they weren’t tying her down.”

  “I thought that was because they were going to be leaving very quickly.”

  “Nope, just no need to do so. The ice keeps her in place.”

  “And what—they have to dig the plane out when they’re ready to leave?” Annja asked.

  Dave shrugged. “You know, sometimes that does happen. But most times, the pilot will put the wheels down to break up the ice and then retract them back into the plane. Then the skis can move again and the plane can take off.”

  Annja sighed. “It’s fascinating.”

  “Dangerous, too. Those aircrews, they’re amazing people. Some of the folks down here owe them their lives,” Dave said.

  “The woman with breast cancer, right?” Annja asked, recalling the news story a few years earlier.

  “Yep, and another doctor down near the pole. Both of them had to be evacuated out of here when the weather wasn’t too spectacular.” He glanced at Annja. “You know, kind of like how you were just flown in.”

  Annja looked at him. “I guess that’s a bit unusual, huh?”

  “You could say that. This time of year, things get mighty ferocious down here. Lots of folks are still down at the various outposts and stations, and by and large, we’re cut off from the outside world.”

  “You’re trapped here?” Annja asked.

  Dave sniffed. “If we’re being honest?”

  “Always.”

  “Yep. We’re trapped here. Unless one of us is important enough to warrant sending in another plane. But that doesn’t happen all that often. For the most part, what you see when we get to McMurdo is what you get.”

  “The pilot said there was a place to get a drink,” Annja said.

  “Three places, actually,” Dave said. “Depends on what your pleasure is, I guess.”

  “Meaning?”

  Dave eyed her. “You smoke?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, so I’m guessing you wouldn’t want to hang out at Southern Exposure. It’s a bit small anyway, and with the smokers, you’ll have the hazy funk infecting your clothes if you go in. Still, it can be a fun place.”

  “What else have you got?”

  Dave tapped his fingers along the steering wheel. “If you’re into wine and cheese, you can check out the coffee-house. It’s pretty mellow. A lot of folks head on over there to relax after a day at work.”

  Annja frowned. The thought of spending too much time at a coffeehouse didn’t excite her much, either. “Anything else?”

  “Yep. We have a place called Gallagher’s.”

  “Gallagher’s?”

  “Named after a guy who died out on the ice of a heart attack. Our way of remembering him, I guess.”

  “It’s a good place?” Annja asked.

  “Oh, yeah. Nonsmoking so there’s no funk. Bigger than any of the other places and the dance floor is usually packed.” He eyed her. “You a dancer?”

  “Depends on my mood,” she said with a grin.

  “Fair one. Anyway, we’ve got some pretty old beer for fifty cents a can. I never touch it. But they’re getting some pretty good stuff down here these days, too. Bottles of Sam Adams, which are damned good brews. Plus, you’ve got the wine and the mixed drinks, too. And if you’re up for it, we’ve got a pretty kick-butt group of folks who love to do karaoke. Swing night just got started, as well.”

  “All that?” Annja asked, amazed.

  Dave smiled. “Even though there aren’t that many of us, we have to make it as much like home as we can. It gets tough sometimes, but that’s how we do it.”

  Annja peered out of the windshield. The snow seemed to be falling harder now than it was befor
e. “You weren’t kidding about the weather.”

  Dave frowned. “You’ll find that’s about the one thing no one kids about down here. When we say it’s getting bad outside, take us at our word. It’s not going to be nice.”

  “Noted.”

  Dave pointed at lights in the distance. “That’s McMurdo. What we call Mac Town.”

  Annja tried to pick out details through the dark and the snow, which seemed to be coming in horizontally. She could see the dim outlines of shapes that she took to be buildings. She could just make out a few vehicles, parked up in a ragged line with snow already draping over them like a heavy woolen blanket.

  “Is anyone still awake?” she asked.

  Dave laughed. “I know what you mean. You see the dark and think it’s the middle of the night, right?”

  “I guess.” Annja realized she had no idea what time it was.

  “Well, it’s six in the evening. If I guess right, most folks are enjoying a nice warm supper right now.”

  “Guess I’d better get squared away and do the same,” Annja said.

  Dave nodded. “I’m taking you right to your quarters. Not sure how long you’re staying there, though.”

  “Oh?”

  “I hear tell you’re headed out of town pretty fast. Seems like you’ve got some folks down here who are keenly interested in getting your eyes on something.”

  “What kind of thing?”

  Dave shook his head. “Annja, I’m just a guy who digs rocks. Literally. Anything else going on down here? I don’t want to know about it.”

  “That sounds ominous,” Annja said.

  He glanced at her. “In case you forgot, you’re at the bottom of the world. Something goes on down here, there aren’t a lot of eyes looking at it, you know what I’m talking about?”

  “I suppose.”

  Dave pointed again. “Here we are. Welcome to Mac Town.”

  Annja peered out of her window and wondered what exactly was going on with Zach.

  3

  McMurdo Station housed about one hundred buildings of every size. Most were the kind of box shape Annja imagined was the prerequisite for design under the harsh Antarctic conditions. Many had smaller doors and few windows, along with a thick cylindrical tube containing power lines and communication gear.

  As they drove down the main street, Dave pointed out various things. “There’s aboveground water and sewage systems in place. We’ve got a good electrical system with some redundancy to it in case of outages.”

  “You get a lot of those?” Annja asked.

  “Depends, like everything else, on the weather.” He pointed at a larger building. “A lot of the research for the station goes on there. Of course, we just came from the direction of Williams Field, and then maybe if there’s time, we can take a run down toward the harbor if you like.”

  “Sure, a nice balmy breeze would feel great. Maybe after that we can go for a swim.”

  He laughed. “You know, they’ve been trying to organize a polar bear dip around these parts for a while now. Not too many people are keen on the idea, though.”

  “Wimps,” Annja said.

  “That’s them.” Dave laughed.

  Annja continued to look out of the windows at the buildings. Here and there, someone could be seen rushing through the snow and going into a building. But really, Annja thought, the place looked like a ghost town.

  “You weren’t kidding about it being quiet down here,” she said.

  “You think this is bad, you should visit some of the other stations across the place. Some of them, there are maybe a dozen people. That’s if you’re lucky. There are a few other isolated joints scattered about, as well. Temporary fixtures that we’ve set up for one reason or another. As soon as the research is done, they get dismantled. Places like that might have four people.”

  “Lonely life you guys lead down here.”

  “Well, we find ways to amuse ourselves.” He slowed the Sno-Cat. “I’m going to drop you off here and wait while you stow your gear inside. When you’re done, I’ll take you down to Gallagher’s.”

  “That’s mighty nice of you.”

  He shrugged. “I can use a drink anyway.”

  “Fair enough.” Annja zipped up her hood and grabbed her duffel bag. As soon as she turned the door handle to leap outside, a blast of wind slammed it back in her face.

  Dave laughed. “First one’s always a killer.”

  Annja tried again and this time managed to get out of the Sno-Cat without getting the door kicked back at her. The wind howled in her ears and she could feel the pores on her face freezing.

  Inside, she thought. Just push through the wind and get inside.

  She groped for the door handle and pushed into the building.

  A wall of heat greeted her, and she slammed the door shut behind her. “Wow, that’s some wind.”

  “You must be a virgin,” a voice said.

  Annja removed her hood and goggles and stared at the main room she’d entered. There was a long wall separating the entrance from the rest of the bottom floor, but she could see a wide-screen TV set playing what looked like a fairly recent release from Hollywood. A few people lounged on sofas and chairs. Some of them were eating.

  The man who addressed her looked quite young. And his dark skin stood out in contrast to the mostly white environment. Annja grinned. “That obvious, huh?”

  “Yep. Everyone says that the first time they come down here. Like they expected this place to be all warm and sunshiny.”

  “Well, I knew it was snowy, but I didn’t think it was quite like this.”

  He grinned. “I know it. Your name Annja?”

  “Yes—”

  “Don’t ask me how I knew. You’re the only one coming down this time of year. Folks with good common sense wait until later in the summer. Our summer, that is.”

  Annja unzipped her jacket. “I guess I’m staying here?”

  “Temporarily. Least that’s what I heard.” He handed her a key. “Your room’s upstairs. Number five. You need me to show you where it is?”

  “I think I can handle it.”

  “Okay.”

  Annja looked at him. “You got a name?”

  “Trevor. Trevor Howard.”

  “You don’t look like much of a cruise director, Trevor. No offense.”

  He smirked. “I’m not. But you’re in my building, so I like to know everyone when they come in for the first time. But don’t think of me as your local tour guide or anything.”

  Annja pointed outside. “Already got one of those. What do you do here?”

  “Try to stay warm,” Trevor said. “What most of us are doing here. Enjoy the room.” He turned and went back to watching the movie.

  Annja grabbed her duffel bag and headed up the stairs to the second floor. She found number five easily enough and immediately heaved her duffel bag on top of the bed. She could always unpack later.

  Her room was Spartan, but she hadn’t expected much. A double bed with a drawer underneath it occupied most of the room. She had a desk and chair near one wall and a small television on the table by the door. There was an overhead light and a red lamp on the nightstand.

  I feel like I’m back in college, she thought.

  She resisted the urge to grab a shower and instead headed back downstairs. She glanced quickly at Trevor’s back, but he made no attempt to talk to her again, so she slipped back outside and into the Sno-Cat.

  Dave sat there whistling a tune. “All set?”

  “Guess so.”

  He slid the Sno-Cat into drive. “What’d you think of the place?”

  “Like a college dorm.”

  Dave nodded. “Sure is. And sometimes, the Air National Guard guys have a keg-tossing contest down at the bars.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “You meet Trevor?”

  “I guess you could call it that.”

  “Yeah, he’s like that with everyone. But honestly, he’s a good guy. You need an
ything, he’ll be there to help you out. Just don’t take it personally that he comes off as a royal pain in the ass.”

  “Okay,” Annja said.

  They drove back down the main street and then turned left. Through the snow, Annja could see bright lights. “Neon?”

  Dave shrugged. “Like I said, gotta make it look like home.”

  He slid the Sno-Cat in next to another vehicle and then killed the engine. “We’d better get inside. In this weather, even the cab freezes after about five minutes.”

  Annja clambered down again and Dave waited as she walked around. Then he held the door open for her and she ducked inside.

  Annja could hear the steady throb of a bass line drum beat. It sounded like they’d just walked into a nightclub. Dave unzipped and showed Annja where she could hang up her parka. “Drink?” he asked.

  She nodded. “Definitely.”

  They headed for the bar. Annja could make out about twenty people throughout the club, most of them in smaller groups. Some of them ate dinner and others seemed to be laughing over a round of drinks. A few tipsy folks hammed it up on the small parquet wooden floor.

  “It’s imitation,” Dave said. “But it looks the part and that’s all that matters sometimes.”

  Dave ordered a beer for himself. “What can I get you?”

  “Gin and tonic,” Annja said.

  The man behind the bar had a white beard longer than the ones worn by the guys in ZZ Top. “We’re out of limes,” he said.

  Annja nodded. “That’s fine.”

  He slid her the drink and Dave passed some money across. “First round’s on me.”

  Annja held up her glass. “Thanks for the warm welcome.”

  He clinked his beer bottle and then drank long and deep.

  Annja sipped her drink and found it packed a wallop. She turned back to the bartender. “You put any tonic water in this?”

  He grinned. “You just got here, right? I figured you could use the extra kick. That flight rattles a lot of people’s nerves.”

  Annja smiled and hoisted her glass. “Much appreciated.”

  “My pleasure.”

  Dave nodded at an empty booth. “Want to sit down?”