by Robin Triggs
“It sounds as if you like the commander.”
She stopped, one hand on the door that led to the vestibule, and thus to the exit. She wasn’t smiling now. She held my eyes and paused for a long time before answering. “Who have you been talking to?”
“No one’s said anything, I just…” I trailed off, gesturing vaguely.
“All I’ll say is that he’s good at his job, and we work well together. I’m not in the habit of spreading gossip about my colleagues.” Then she smiled again, defusing the tension. “C’mon. Let’s get suited up.”
* * *
The warmsuits were clever, and essential if you wanted to survive in the wastes of Antarctica. The green scales on the outside were simply flexible solar batteries that powered the circuits beneath and provided constant warmth – and in the long winter they could be charged from any electrical outlet. But the real magic was in the face masks we wore to protect us from the cold and the wind. The masks not only kept us from frostbite, but also managed to mimic normal human speech – even in the most hostile of conditions.
There was a microphone fitted into the mouthpiece and a transmitter over the ear; that was simple. The genius was that the mask measured how loudly you were speaking, and in what direction. The sound that was received by your companions was therefore what they’d have heard had you not been wearing it: very useful in a blizzard, or a gale. So you could lean close to whisper, or shout so all could hear. It was meant to feel natural, intuitive, and after a while it was. If only it were as easy to tell people apart by sight: everyone looked the same in their suits and masks.
The heavy red sun was bisected by the horizon. I shivered at the sight of winter’s first stars, but I wasn’t at all cold. Must have been a psychosomatic reaction.
Max closed the base door behind me, and it sealed automatically. She loped across the icy tarmac towards a building as anonymous as the rest of the base. Only Maggie’s greenhouses were instantly recognizable to a newcomer like myself. I followed Max, boots gripping easily on the smooth surface.
“So what’s the plan?” I asked as she reached the door of the new structure.
She hauled it open, bracing herself against a wind I barely felt. “We’re riding out about three miles to a ridge nearer the pole. It’s a nice spot, with shelter from the wind. The rest of the crew should already be out there.”
She let me slip past her, then followed me in. The door slammed shut behind us, but I noticed it wasn’t sealed like the barracks were. There was no vestibule; it was obvious that no attempt had been made to heat the building.
The lights came on automatically as we moved inside. The room was full of three things: vehicles, parts, and space. It was clearly a repair shop as well as a place to park. The walls were cold and bare and there were few touches of humanity. Much of the floor was empty. There was a 4x4 in one corner, huge spiked tires designed for crossing the ice. There was also what looked like a crawler that had been cut in half. It was, I realized, a sort of shunting engine designed to line up carriages for the crawler to take back to O’Higgins. There were a pair of vehicles with one wheel at the front and twin tracks to the rear, like a cross between a motorbike and a snowmobile. One looked ready to go but the other was half-dismantled, apparently raided for parts. From my training, I knew they were half-tracks.
“You ready?” Max asked, and without waiting for an answer strode to the working vehicle and swung her leg across. In her mask and suit, she looked like an alien queen about to ride into battle.
“You want me…?”
“Pillion. I take it you don’t have a problem riding behind me?”
I could hear the amusement in her voice. I smiled behind my mask and mounted – a little clumsily – at her back. Ahead of us a chain-link metal door took up most of one wall. Max started the engine and, at some unknown signal, the door rattled up into the ceiling.
“Any chance of the mechanism freezing?” I asked above the low growl of the motor.
“Ha. Everything has a chance of freezing – that’s one of the things that keeps me so very busy. I just thank the gods of global warming that it’s not like it was twenty years ago.” The engine growled as she eased the throttle open, and steadily we accelerated into the wasteland.
* * *
At first it was hard to make anything out. The sun was too low and too bright, and anyway I was trying to peer out from behind Max’s back.
But gradually – as first we swung north to ease around the minehead, then east and finally south – I began to adjust to the glare, and to relax. And I had my first real experience of Antarctica.
I couldn’t feel anything, not really. That was the problem with all the protective gear – it dulled the senses. The wind was just a gentle pressure on my body; there was no sense of the biting gale that whipped ice flakes across the plateau. The only physical sensations were those of the seat beneath me and the prewarmed air that was allowed to filter through the mask. But I saw things that took my breath away.
Every color. I’d not expected all the colors…
“Pretty, isn’t it?” Max called back to me.
I could only nod, murmur vague agreement. It was the sun, reflecting on the ice. Refracting like a spill of oil. Every dip, every rise, every hole and every angle – each met the light in a different way. It was a kaleidoscope, a prism that shone without any sort of unity or plan. And further from us, where the land stretched away and the angles merged, the ice became a blue-brown collage until it met the sky.
In the distance, great rock formations stretched fingers upwards as if in a gesture of defiance, black against a dying sun.
And, aside from the complaints of the half-track and whispers of the wind, it was silent and still. No birds, no mammals, just me and Max crossing an empty plateau. Terrifying. Magnificent.
After a little time I became aware that we were traveling parallel to an ice ridge. We’d been out for something like twenty minutes; I guessed we’d covered just a few miles. When the ridge started to sink back into the plain, Max gracefully arced the track across it and swung us slowly along its far side. Half a minute later and I saw figures in the distance.
* * *
It was an oddly incongruous gathering: eleven people, specialists all, sitting on the side of an ice ridge in Antarctica and having a barbecue. Several of them had removed their masks, had them hanging over their chests from the attachments at the neck. An old barrel served as the firepit, and there was plenty of coal for fuel.
Unmasked, Abidene was doing the cooking, which seemed to consist mostly of rebutting de Villiers’s attempts to interfere. I noted the looks the chef gave the commander whenever his back was turned, and Abi’s studied blankness whenever de Villiers spoke. The food was mostly various soy- and mushroom-based products of the sort that anyone could buy anywhere in the world.
“Anders! Max!” de Villiers boomed as Max parked the half-track near another four that had evidently brought the others. There was also a 4x4, which must have been used to bring out the supplies. “Welcome! Here, grab a beer, the food’ll be a few minutes yet.”
Max unfastened her mask as she swung herself off the vehicle. Holding it in one hand, she took a deep breath and gave a yell of joy as she exhaled. When she turned back to me, her eyes were watering from the cold. She grinned. “C’mon, Anders, take yours off.” She blinked, and wiped away the tears before they could freeze on her face.
“Yeah, come on, kid, show us what you’re made of,” de Villiers added. He picked up a bottle from a collection on the ice and lobbed it to me.
I caught it easily. I too had dismounted and was stretching my legs. I hesitated for a moment. De Villiers and Max were waiting for me to unmask. Behind them Abidene was focused on the food, and on the other side of the fire were the rest of the crew. One or two mask-wearers were facing in my direction, but I couldn’t tell if they were paying attention to us.
I reached up and unfastened the clips that held my mask in place. I hesitated for a moment, then pulled it off.
The cold hit me like a hammer.
I gasped as the blood shrank from my face; my glove was rough against my cheek as I brushed away tears. But the air was clean and fresh in my lungs. The experience was like my first step on a foreign planet. Never had I taken in such an unpolluted breath. I gasped again as a smile spread across my face.
Max was smiling at me. De Villiers was nodding. I felt like I’d passed some initiation ceremony.
“Don’t keep it off too long,” Max cautioned. “When you start to go numb, put it back on for a few minutes. Keep your skin alive.”
“Come on,” de Villiers added. “Let’s join the others.” He strode back to the barbecue and immediately started to tell Abidene how he should be doing it. I saw the flash of irritation in the chef’s face, quickly hidden, as the commander tried once again to take over.
* * *
Despite de Villiers’s assertions that he could have done it better, the food was good and, out there in the wilderness, I felt more alive than I’d done in years. I made small talk with the rest of the crew and drank – in my unmasked moments – what proved to be a pretty acceptable beer. I spoke with Theo, even spent a little while throwing a ball around with him and Mikhail. I was clumsy, unfamiliar with the game, and every time I dropped a pass or missed my aim they’d laugh and I’d turn away in embarrassment. But I persisted, and when Mikhail finally erred and had to chase the ball down a steep slope, I grinned as Theo gave a sarcastic cheer.
I spoke with Maggie, with Abi – with everyone except Weng, who didn’t appear to want to talk to anyone. Apart from her, the mood amongst the crew seemed good. The only strange thing was that people kept appearing and disappearing as they took off, then replaced, their masks as the cold got too much. You’d be talking to someone, then you’d glance away, and when you looked back, you’d be talking to alien blankness. It made it even more surreal that their voices weren’t muffled. But I got the hang of it quickly enough, and soon was getting plenty of practice at removing and replacing mine. As a system it worked well, and I began to notice differences in stature and the way individuals held themselves. It helped that people tended to call their colleagues by their names more than they normally would.
After a while I noticed something odd.
I’d gone a little way apart from the rest, and was sitting with my back to a rock. I wasn’t feeling antisocial – I’d have welcomed company – but for a moment I just wanted to take the weight off my feet and to stare at the sunset with another beer. When I looked back at the group, it took me a few seconds to realize that people were missing.
I frowned behind my mask and tried to work out who had wandered off. Three people: I could hear de Villiers laughing, so not him. And the smallest, slightest figure must have been Weng, and next to her Greigor, only a little taller but much broader. And there was Theo, and Dmitri—
The puzzle resolved itself when Maggie, Fischer and Keegan ambled back from behind a fold in the land. They were all unmasked and laughing, and I put it out of my mind until I saw Max.
She was chatting, mask off, with a man I couldn’t immediately identify. The conversation seemed quite natural and friendly. There was someone else there too, possibly Fergie. She was holding something. Gesticulating with it. A small, thin tube, paper-white, almost hidden, invisible within her fingers. It was only when she put it in her mouth – then immediately took it out again to say something – that it clicked with me.
Cigarettes. You barely see them nowadays; they’re a rich man’s affectation. I’d met a few smokers in the blocks – usually with the cheap bootleg stuff – and of course part of my job was to keep dealers in check. I’d been questioned at length about my experience of nicotine and cannabis and all other intoxicants as part of my interview for this job. I’d submitted to a blood test and given a urine sample, and I presumed that everyone else here had too. To have smokers here was just strange.
De Villiers was watching, mask off, in the background. His expression showed distaste as he scowled at Max. But he said nothing until she raised a lighter in her other hand. I could’ve sworn he looked straight at me before snapping a couple of words at the janitor. She immediately took the cigarette from her mouth and hid it at her side. I pretended not to notice as she looked at me too. Then she walked off, accompanied by Fergie, and was soon swallowed by the barren landscape.
* * *
We stood together to watch the sun finally disappear below the horizon, the year’s only sunset. It was hard to believe that this was the last we’d see of it for six months – it just didn’t seem real, especially as there was still plenty of light. The moon shone down on us, and around it stars began to break cover. We had no need of our torches when de Villiers drew everyone together for a few words. First he made us all take off our masks, the better to mark the moment. I glanced around, seeing faces pinched with the cold. There were a lot of smiles; I saw Mikhail whisper something to Maggie, whose lined face crumpled into barely contained laughter.
“Well now,” de Villiers began. “It’s about time for us to head back, I think. But before we go, I just want us all to raise a glass – or a can, at least.”
I was nearing the end of my third drink, almost wishing it were real alcohol. I almost felt like I belonged out there, that I was entitled to smile, even to laugh.
Childhood trauma enhances fear of basic human interactions… The words of the Psych seemed to be melting away in the cold.
“Ladies and gentlemen, you don’t need me to tell you how important the work we do here is. Our research may one day feed the world. The resources we’re pulling out of the ground – each day we’re providing a good chunk of what we laughingly call civilization with light and heat—”
“Get on with it, Anton,” Fischer interrupted. Even she was less acid than usual; she sounded more impatient than really annoyed. “It’s cold out here, you know.”
“And it’s going to get a lot colder. Ladies and gentlemen, a toast. To the crew of Australis base, to the year’s only sunset – and to the start of the long night. Here’s to the work ahead – to the night shift!”
Chapter Four
We chased our moon-shadows across the ice and back to the base. Max was quiet; I was quiet. Five half-tracks raced across the wastes, leaving the 4x4 in their wake; the engines were all I could hear. The wind was beginning to pick up as we arrived back and pulled up in the workshop-cum-garage. Clouds were building in the dark distance, and as we dismounted I heard Keegan mention that we were in for a blizzard.
De Villiers, Max and Dmitri waited to help unload the 4x4. The rest of us hurried past the floodlit buildings and into the barracks. I was tired and a little heavy-headed, and as soon as my suit was off, I slipped away and into my room. The clock on my computer told me it was just after five. Soon it would be pitch-black outside.
It was far too early to settle down, so I took the luxury of another hot shower. I felt a spark of guilt over the waste of water – had I still been in the blocks, I’d have far exceeded my daily ration – but I must have spent a good half hour in the steaming cascade, rejoicing in the experience and feeling truly alive.
I was drying myself, naked in the main room of my apartment, when the doorbell chimed. Hurriedly, I threw my clothes back on and went barefooted into my office and opened the outer door. Weng stood before me in the corridor. She stared up at me defiantly.
“Weng?”
She said nothing, just looked at me with those piercing brown eyes.
“Do you want to come in?”
She nodded and I stepped back, my feet cold on the floor. I could see her taking in my crumpled clothes and my wet hair. I realized that I’d never actually heard her speak – surely she wasn’t mute?
I backed away and stepped around my desk. Weng
turned and carefully shut the door after her before standing behind the visitor’s chair.
“Take a seat,” I said, still unsure if this was an official or a personal visit.
She shook her head.
“What’s on your mind?”
For a moment I thought that she would say nothing; I had a vision of her simply turning and walking out. But she didn’t move – stayed utterly still. She just stared into my eyes as if she were trying to read my mind.
When she finally spoke she had a strong accent but her words came slow and clear, as if she was challenging me to misunderstand.
“Are you here because of me?”
“What?”
“Are you here because of me?”
“W-why would I be here because of you?” I stammered, unable to think of anything more coherent to say.
She stared at me for a long time, then turned on her heel and left without another word.
* * *
“Anders, take a seat. What can I do you for?”
The commander leaned back in his chair, the undoubted ruler of his kingdom. I felt small beneath his intense blue eyes.
“I felt we should have a talk,” I said awkwardly.
“Personal?” He gave a little grin and crossed his legs. “Or is it business?”
“Business.”
“Ah. Right. Well, what’s on your mind, mate?”
“There are a few… Look, I’m having trouble accessing some computer files—”
“Trying to look me up again?”
“What?”
“Gotta say, I thought you might’ve come see me earlier. You accessed my work record, didn’t you?”
“How did you—”
“You think I don’t keep an eye on what people are up to? If anyone’s looking into me, I want to know about it, right?” He spoke mildly but the look he was giving me was warning enough. “I put a trace on. So what’s your business looking into my past? You think I’m not doing a good job here? Or are you planning to hunt through the whole crew’s past?”