by Nick Thacker
They waited, listening to the uncanny silence, something they had not yet experienced on the station.
Ben pulled his wasted arm up and placed his hand on Joshua’s shoulder. He leaned in closer. “That’s what I would do.”
“Same here, buddy,” Reggie said.
Julie, Colson, and Mrs. E nodded along.
‘Level 10 shutdown complete,’ the woman said a few minutes later. ‘Commencing station-wide power-save mode. Complete system failure in approximately 23 hours.’
“What about him?” Reggie glanced down at Valére, pitiful and broken on the floor. Ben and the others followed his gaze.
“How long you think he has?” he asked.
“Hard to say what it is, exactly,” Joshua said. “But the convulsions are picking up, and they’re more frequent than they were from even ten minutes ago.”
Valére was breathing heavily, grasping with his outstretched arms for a support that wasn’t there. He shook violently for a few seconds, then stopped, his eyes fluttering open and closed.
Ben chewed the inside of his lip for a moment. “He won’t be able to get out of here.”
Reggie and Joshua shook their heads.
“And the station will be deactivated in less than a day. Frozen solid in another.”
Reggie’s eyebrows raised, as if asking a question.
“I have no interest in hauling this guy back to the States. We all know he’ll be able to summon an unlimited amount of lawyers and all the money he’ll need to get off the hook.”
“But we can’t just leave him here alone,” Julie said.
“We’re not,” Ben responded without hesitation. “That creepy computer chick will be with him to the end.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
They found Valére’s plane, another massive cargo airliner outfitted with skis similar to the one they’d flown in on, on Level 1. Half of the level had been apportioned to an underground hangar, gently sloping upward until it met with the level of the ground outside.
In addition, they had found Valére’s secret elevator — one that was not very secret once the system, or SARA, had gone into its power-save mode. The hidden elevator was nothing more than a maintenance elevator, a large, square car meant for nothing besides carrying equipment from the top of the base to the bottom. Apparently it was also the only elevator that was operational when the station was in its low-power mode, and a large orange light mounted above the door broadcasted its location to the group.
They had taken the elevator to the top level, finding only dead bodies where a massive battle between the station’s security and the Chinese forces had taken place earlier. Whoever had piloted the aircraft was gone as well, and the assumption was that it had been one of the guards who had accompanied Valére through the station.
Still, the group was on high alert, and Julie, Mrs. E, Joshua, and even Colson — holding a rifle they had pulled from a soldier — were standing guard at each of the plane’s open doors. Julie was tending to Ben’s injuries in the cockpit, where Reggie was trying to get the plane’s power on.
“You can’t fly this thing?” Ben asked.
Julie remembered their first trip with Reggie, piloting a small plane into the heart of the Amazon rainforest.
“I’m a little uncomfortable with a Cessna,” he replied, “imagine how I feel with a beast this big.”
“I thought you were the kind of guy to take risks,” Julie said, winking.
Reggie smiled. “Trust me, this is not a risk you want me to take.”
“I’m with him,” Ben said. “So can we get McMurdo?”
Reggie had the plane’s power on, but so far no sound had come from the radio. “Working on it.”
He fiddled with the controls again, dialing in different frequencies and waiting for a response.
‘ — ello? Who… who is this?’
Reggie frowned, still smiling, as he looked at Ben and Julie. “I’m guessing whoever picked up is not a seasoned radio operator.”
He answered. “My name is Gareth Red, and I am near McMurdo Station. I am requesting assistance for myself and the group of five others I’m with.”
There was a pause. ‘— I think — understand. You are near the station? — No other — where exactly — located?’
He pulled the mouthpiece down and looked at Ben and Julie again. “You think I should ask to speak to his manager?”
Julie laughed, and Reggie continued. “I wish I could tell you exactly where we are, but I’m not sure. I would estimate it to be less than 100 miles from your location, somewhere along the Traverse.”
A new voice, a woman’s, this one gruff and clipped, came through the radio. ‘This… remote comm… ATC McMurdo, ground-to-ground communi— We have you… on a local frequency, and I believe we are seeing your location.’
The woman continued, the transmissions getting cleaner each time, and she told Reggie she had pinpointed their location to just in front of the start of the Transantarctic Moutains, and about four hours on the ground from McMurdo. They discussed details, and Reggie confirmed that McMurdo would be on their way within the hour to retrieve his group. Before they finished, the controller at McMurdo asked a final question.
‘One more thing, Red. Is there anything you can tell us about one of our junior researchers? Came up missing a few days ago; name’s Montgomery. Roald Montgomery? Over.’
Reggie sighed, then responded. “Yeah, I can explain that. Unfortunately he will not be returning with us. It’s a long story, though, and I’d like to get a change of clothes and a bourbon first. Over.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-nine
There was a small cabinet in the cockpit of the cargo plane that, among other personal items, housed two bottles of liquor. Reggie and Colson passed a bottle of cheap scotch between them, while Ben and the others, except for Joshua, opted for the Canadian whisky. The five hours of waiting seemed to stretch on forever considering how quickly the last twenty-four had gone. They spent the time laughing about the taste of the liquor and making fun of Reggie’s flying ability, all trying to forget the hundreds of bodies that lay freezing below them.
Mrs. E was quiet and reserved, refusing to partake in the drinking or the joking. She sat in the copilot’s chair and looked out the narrow rectangle of windows at the dark wall of the hangar. Julie entered the cockpit, sat down, and waited for Mrs. E to turn her direction.
“There’s a lot of things that don’t make sense,” Julie said.
Mrs. E nodded. “I assure you, my husband and I were not aware of the circumstances here,” she said.
“I trust that. You fought with us, and I won’t forget that. They won’t either. But there’s more to it than that, right?”
Again, she nodded. “My husband will explain it fully, but we are not only interested in our investment here.”
“So there is an investment?”
“Yes, just as he said. He will be disappointed in our failure to retrieve any of the data from this place, but he will understand that there was no alternative.”
“Then what was all that about Joshua, before Hendricks died?”
“Again, I will allow my husband to explain the details of that. But he is interested in continuing the relationship with Mr. Jefferson, at least.”
Julie found the statements to be cryptic, and that only made her want to ask more. But she trusted the woman to her word; she had at least helped them through an impossible situation, and the woman deserved at least that. Julie’s stubbornness wanted to push, but she decided against it.
Whatever was happening was something she could look into later. Right now, she had others matters to attend to.
She swung around to find Ben and Reggie laughing about something Reggie had said. Ben looked pitiful, with his swollen head, his lips still nearly twice their normal size. Considering what she knew about Reggie, the man had probably joked about this very thing, poking fun at Ben, starting what would inevitably be a never-ending back-and-forth between them.
“Ben,” she said flatly.
He turned, slowly, his body facing her before his head.
“We need to talk.”
Reggie’s eyes rose, and she saw that he was trying to stifle more laughter.
“Now?” He asked.
She nodded.
“But, we… Jules, is this about —“
“That godawful proposal?” she said, cutting in. “Absolutely.”
Reggie’s mouth started to open in congruence with his eyes, and next to her she heard Joshua let out a breath of air.
“Oh man, is that what you two lovebirds were talking about back there?” Reggie said. “Ben, are you serious?”
“I… shut up…” he said. His gigantic lips were open in a line, the look on his face pure torture.
Julie suddenly wanted to rescue the man she loved, but something in her just decided to sit back and watch the proceedings for a few more seconds.
Joshua jumped in. “I can’t believe that,” he said. “You left us to do all the work, and you were asking her to marry you?”
“I put… the helmet thing… that was —“
Reggie interrupted with a burst of laughter that drowned out Ben’s voice so remarkably that his only option was to stop talking. Joshua joined in, and Julie watched as even Ben began to smile. They laughed together for a minute, Joshua and Reggie taking turns leading out on their friendly assault on Ben, until Julie stood up.
The laughter died down, and Julie walked over to Ben, his face and ears red, his fists balled at his sides. He was smiling, she thought, but it was hard to tell behind the mangled nose, face, and black eyes.
“We can talk later,” she said softly, grabbing his hand. “That was almost revenge for my proposal.”
He stood there, a head taller than her, not moving.
“Now I’m going to make it even. That was probably one of the more awkward moments any of us have ever been in, so I’m going to one-up it.”
“You… are?” Ben asked.
She nodded, then reached up with her free hand and waved it, palm open, in front of his face. “I don’t really know what this is right now, and I’m not sure how it got that way, but I’m going to try to kiss it. In front of our friends.”
Ben’s face somehow grew even redder, and Reggie’s and Joshua’s laughter even more animated, as Julie leaned up on her tiptoes and went in for her coup de grace.
CHAPTER SEVENTY
‘Mr. Red, have you ever heard of the Avengers Initiative?’ the man on the television said.
Reggie looked to either side of him, first over at Ben and Julie, then toward Joshua and Mrs. E. The man onscreen, Mr. E., was the same man they had spoken with before embarking on their mission, and the room they were in — one of the ballrooms at The Broadmoor — was the same as well. Beautiful sconces and glorious crown moldings covered the walls, and chandeliers that looked to be a century old and still in perfect condition hung from the high ceiling.
It was an obvious display of wealth to Reggie, but he was never one to deny his attraction to the finer things in life. If Mr. and Mrs. E wanted to treat them — again — to a fancy dinner and a stay in one of the world’s premier resorts, he wasn’t going to argue.
Still, he wondered what Mr. E’s point was in the all the pomp and circumstance. The man on the television screen, like before, could not have seemed more plain. His attempt at a joke was even stranger.
“Was that a joke?” Reggie asked.
‘Indeed.’ The man’s expression did not change in the slightest.
“Good one,” Reggie said, not sure what was supposed to be happening right now.
‘I merely bring up the famed comic book characters to set the stage for what I’m about to ask you. All of you.’
Reggie noticed Julie sit up a bit straighter in her seat, and Joshua’s head tipped back just a bit. Ben didn’t change, but it was likely due to the wad of bandages and glistening medication that had been rubbed on his wounds and cuts.
‘While you were in fact sent to Antarctica to secure data that would help me prosecute Draconis Industries for procuring the use of restricted communications equipment and satellites, I understand that you each took part because of your own, more personal, motives.
‘I too had an ulterior motive, and it pained me to have to withhold it from you all, but it was required. I sent Mr. Hendricks and his team there for your safety and security, but also to assess the ability of your group as possible candidates.’
“Candidates? For what?” Reggie asked.
‘I was recently approached by a contingent of representatives from each branch of the United States Armed Forces to discuss the possibility of leading a project they’re calling CSO, or ‘Civilian Special Operations.’ In addition, an acquaintance I’m sure you are all familiar with, Archibald Quinones, was there, as he and I have become quite friendly the last few months. Juliette, apparently your digging around and asking the CIA for help with this Draconis matter has not only interested them, it has prompted them to action, by dumping it off for someone else to handle.
‘This meeting, as you can imagine, was classified, as it is in the best interest of each party to deny such a meeting took place. Anyway, this group will be made up of civilians who possess the knowledge and training to accompany select members of special forces units to accomplish missions that are considered taboo by the US government.’
Reggie was only slightly surprised that his old friend Achibald was in attendance. He had helped them in the Amazon, and it seemed that his help, while no longer of the physical sort, was still present. “But isn’t that exactly what the special forces already do?”
Mr. E nodded. ‘Yes, in a way. These missions are not expected to be militaristic in nature, which is specifically why it was decided men and women from the civilian sector should make up the majority of its membership. Corporate situations, such as this affair with Draconis Industries, and private security matters come to mind as possible uses for a group like this, and the fact that it will not be funded — at least not fully — by any particular government gives it more political immunity than many of the military-backed programs.’
“But you met with military folks, right?”
‘Indeed. I was asked to the meeting because they intend to appoint me as the group’s leader, from a financial standpoint.’
“So we trade our loyalties to the country in exchange for a dictator?”
Mr. E smiled. ‘I too feared what that meant, but we have a solution. Joshua Jefferson has shown exemplary leadership ability, and his presence of mind under pressure, as reported by my wife, is without question. He will be overseeing the operations component of the CSO, with committee-based oversight.’
Reggie grunted. “And who’s on this committee?”
‘My wife and I are, and one representative from the military, as well as each of you. The math adds up in your favor, and as long as you all agree…’
Ben sniffed, then wiggled his nose, trying to scratch an itch without touching his face. He turned slightly in his chair so his body was facing more toward Reggie and Julie, and he spoke to the screen. “Mr. E, I’m sure we’re all flattered, but seriously, don’t you think we are a little under-qualified to be your personal police force?”
‘In training alone, Mr. Bennett,’ Mr. E said, ‘and that will be accommodated. However, as I mentioned before you left, each of you has a particular set of skills that our military and government cannot train or reproduce artificially. Furthermore, as I have explained, the types of assignments we are hoping to pursue do not interfere with the military’s well-established style of engagements.’
“Can you be more specific?”
‘At this time, no. This group is an idea, a germ of a possibility, and I wanted to bring it to you all as early as possible. But my vision, my dream, and part
of the reason I got into the technology business in the first place, is to pursue the sorts of things that our military does not have the time, resources, or interest in. They pursue science because very often its possibilities coincide with defense programs, whether in our country or an enemy’s. Private security is another option, but their programs are meant to protect a corporate entity or its leaders, and not much else. What I am hoping to do with this program is bridge the gap between the interests of the military and the interests of the rest of us.’
Julie, sitting next to Reggie, was oddly quiet, and when Mr. E finished speaking he turned to her. “What do you think, Jules?” he asked.
She waited a moment, still collecting her thoughts. “It’s… I don’t know. It’s hard to say, really. After what we just went through, I’m not sure I want to know any more about these ‘interests’ of yours.”
At this, Mr. E and Mrs. E laughed, and Joshua grinned. ‘I completely understand. Let me give you an example, then. A few months ago, the American Museum of Natural History was attacked, and a priceless artifact was stolen. Local police could only go so far, yet the military was too large, disjointed, and ultimately too uninterested to pursue the matter further. There are private security teams that could have been contracted and employed, but they need to be paid for.
‘That particular incident ended well, thanks to a couple of people who took it upon themselves to act, but it could very well have led to disaster. My intention is to build a team that can be deployed, doing what is right and necessary to bring down these sorts of people, in a way that allows the US government to focus on the bigger, and more pressing, threats.’
“And gives them plausible deniability,” Joshua said.
‘That came up, yes,’ Mr. E replied almost immediately.
“Right. Well, if I’m understanding correctly, you want us to help you be the good guy. But fly under the radar, so to speak, so you don’t step on the military’s toes. But they’ll help us out if we help them out, by giving us the hired guns, if needed.”