***
Inside the cargo bay of the C-130, the passengers sat in silence. Connie, the dark-haired, hazel eyed research assistant from Ohio State, stared wide-eyed and with open mouth at her travelling companion, Walt, who was Susan Engen’s senior grad student. Since it was clear they weren’t going anywhere quick, Walt unclipped the seatbelt and headed for a window to look around. There wasn’t much to see, so he climbed up onto one of the pallets of cargo and settled in for a nap. Connie’s heart was still pounding; she shook her head in wonder at Walt’s seeming indifference to their near-death experience, and she started to talk with the other passengers, recounting the events in the way that people do once the danger has passed.
Eventually, a Caterpillar D-8 showed up and towed the disgraced bird back to McMurdo. When the aircraft was secure, the passengers were loaded onto the lumbering personnel carriers that took them from the airstrip to the Chalet for their orientation on the continent. Walt was still half asleep, and Connie nudged him from time to time when his head rolled back and he began to snore. Dr. Fredricks ran through his welcome speech, which did not help in the effort of keeping Walt awake. The Captain ran through the list of prohibited activities, which was impressive in its length. He was nearly finished when one item caught Walt’s attention, and he opened one eye.
“…and under no circumstances is anyone to go out onto the sea ice with the intention of skiing, whale watching, or fishing.”
Walt now opened the other eye and looked at Connie.
“I didn’t know you could do that,” he said.
“You can’t. He just said that is what you can’t do.”
“He wouldn’t have said you can’t do it, if it couldn’t be done,” Walt explained rationally.
“Oh no,” Connie said, seeing that a plan was formulating in Walt’s head. “Don’t even think about it.”
“Too late. Let’s go,” he said as the group was dismissed.
“This is dumb,” Connie said to Walt. It was later in the day after they dropped their gear at the rooms they would be occupying. It was her way of concealing for both of them how crazy she was about him; finding fault with all his pranks, while at the same time, being thrilled to be included. “What if we get caught? What if we fall through? What if Dr. Engen finds out?”
“You’ve heard her spout about civil disobedience; she’d probably give us a medal.”
“I don’t think this is what she was talking about.”
“Sure it is. We’re resisting authority.”
“Oh brother, now I’ve heard it all.”
Before coming to collect Connie, Walt managed to raid the Bio-Lab where he stole a fishing pole, commandeered an Alpine snowmobile from the Navy, and purloined a case of beer from the back of the mechanics’ shop, where it was carelessly stationed in anticipation of the weekly safety meeting that was scheduled for later that day. He also took a cooler for the beer, in order to keep it from freezing on the trip across the ice.
It was easy to follow the tracks to the hut on the ice where the Antarctic cod were harvested for research, and there was a large hole carved out of the ice within the confines of the hut for that purpose. Walt cracked open a beer and baited the hook. Within minutes, there was a tug on the line and he reeled in the cod to the mouth of the hole.
As he lifted the fish through the hole, the water in the opening burst through in a sudden wave, drenching the two. Following the wave, came a wide-open mouth full of enormous teeth, especially the canines, which reached for the now airborne cod that landed in Connie’s lap. The Leopard Seal’s mouth followed the flying fish toward Connie, until its massive body got stuck in the hole in the ice, though the teeth continued to snap in an effort to get at the slimy creature flopping between her knees.
She screamed as she tumbled over backwards, while Walt picked up the chair he was sitting in and smashed it over the seal’s head. The seal, now seriously angry, lunged at Walt once, before slipping back through the hole in the ice.
“Get me the hell out of here!” Connie yelled at Walt, once the seal was gone, the thrill of the adventure having fully dissipated over the last seconds.
“Okay, okay, let’s go,” he said without resisting, knowing instinctively that she had a perfectly valid grievance, and that it would not do to argue with her. He stole a blanket from the shelf and wrapped Connie in it for the trip back, which helped to mollify her, slightly.
Along the path that the Alpine followed back toward McMurdo, there were several seals, not Leopards, but Weddells, enjoying the relative warmth of the sun on the ice. Far more docile than Leopards, the Weddells moved slowly on the surface of the ice, and looked cute and cuddly to human observation, especially the pups. A mother and her pup were situated by a reasonably large opening in the ice for that early in the summer, and Connie cheered up after her ordeal, looking at them.
“Isn’t that beautiful?” she reflected in an awed whisper to Walt, who was relieved to have her calmed down.
“Yes it is.”
As he was agreeing with her on the magnificence of the sight, the head of a Killer Whale silently lifted out of the water in a perfectly vertical motion, looking at what was on top. It then disappeared as silently as it had come.
“Wow!” Connie observed, thrilled. “That’s incredible!”
Before Walt could agree with her, the whale appeared again, only this time it burst violently from the water, its full massive bulk breaching the surface, before crashing down on top of the mother and baby seal. It grabbed the screaming pup in its front teeth as the ice exploded in every direction, the wave sending cracks in the sea ice radiating outwards.
One of the splits headed right for the Alpine where the two students were watching. It moved in slow motion with a “POP, POP, POP” sound as the opening got closer.
“Oh, shit!” Walt said, while starting the engine and dropping the shifter into gear, just as the ice beneath them began to give way. He gunned the throttle and sped away as fast as the Alpine could accelerate.
Connie didn’t have time to react to this latest misadventure before they were out of Harm’s Way, but she looked back toward the opening in the ice, where another whale had appeared. The two Killer Whales were playing tug-of-war with the baby seal’s bloody carcass while the distraught mother barked piteously.
There was neither a quiet, nor invisible way to return the Alpine to where it was taken from, but Walt tried to act as covertly as he could in appearing nonchalant while parking the machine. By the time the engine stopped, they were surrounded and frog-marched into the antechamber outside the Captain’s office. Dr. Fredricks was already there.
“Send em’ home,” the Captain said, lighting a cigar just to irritate the Director. “Rules are rules, and that’s the only punishment we’ve got for rule breakers.”
“I know,” Dr. Fredricks said, “but there’s just one problem.”
“What’s that?”
“They work for Susan Engen.”
The Captain groaned.
“You’re shittin’ me, right?”
“I’m afraid not. They are all the help she’s got.”
“Great. So we’ve got to keep them?” the Captain asked, though the answer was obvious.
The answer was so obvious that Dr. Fredricks didn’t bother to answer.
“Okay, then,” the Captain said, resignedly. “Send them in on your way out. I’ll explain the rules to them a second time.”
An up close and personal explanation from the Captain was usually all that it took for anyone to get their attitude properly adjusted, and to understand his expectations in full.
The Pole of Inaccessibility Page 5