Colder Than Ice

by MacPherson, Helen

  Rick held up his hand. “That may be the case, but face facts. Do you want to get this project off the ground?” Allison nodded. “If you want to succeed then you have to ensure you minimize any potential hurdles, and this includes a possible about face by the old man. Di may be the key to ensuring this doesn’t happen.”

  Allison objected to the idea but she could see the inherent sense in Rick’s words. She’d worked with difficult people before so, at least, she was in practice. She picked up the phone. “B…er Di, it’s Alli. Do you have a minute? Rick and I are in my office brainstorming the proposal for the Finlayson Project and we were wondering if you were free to join us? Great. We’ll see you in a tic. Bye.” She hung up and smiled at Rick. “There, I did it.”

  Rick smugly grinned. “Yeah, but how long can you remain level-headed about the whole thing?” Allison’s answer was belayed by a knock on the door. Dianne entered without waiting for a response.

  Allison joined the two at her small coffee table. She silently laughed as Rick gallantly offered Dianne a chair. “Di, thanks very much for supporting me this morning. It was really touch and go there for a while.”

  Dianne graciously tilted her head. “No problem. I was very excited by the discovery and think it would be a great project for the Museum. So how do we tackle what needs to be done? Father said he was keen to see something in writing by Monday week and that leaves us six working days.”

  Allison bit her tongue over Dianne’s use of “we.” I haven’t even asked her to join the group and yet she’s already trying to run the damn thing! “I think the rule here will be divide and conquer. I’ll work on the written proposal if you, Di, can canvass your social contacts regarding possible funding. Rick, you can work on the academic contacts and see if we can get any from those groups. In fact, both of you should work together to avoid any possibility of doubling up. I want this to look as professional as possible. I’ll work on a short presentation brief that could be used to explain the aim, objectives, and outcomes of the expedition.”

  Rick nodded. “How soon could you have the briefing pack complete?”

  Allison stood up and went to her bookcase. “My Doctoral papers are here somewhere. They contain the Finlayson information.” She knelt and attempted to pull a well-lodged wad of notes from her overflowing bookcase. “On one of these shelves is also the funding proposal I did during my first year here for the refurbishment of the south wing. Now if I can only lay my hands on it.”

  “Hopefully it won’t take you all day to find it.” Allison’s withering glare halted any further sarcastic comments from Rick. “What about trusts? Should we be targeting these guys as well?”

  Allison straightened. “That could be a difficult task. There’s a heap of them and trying to ensure the right ones are targeted may be more trouble than it’s worth.”

  “No, it’s not really,” Dianne interjected. “It’s a matter of knowing where to look. There’s a group called the Australian Philanthropic Society for Educational Research and they list all the trusts, along with their aims and objectives. Father’s a member of the society.”

  How convenient that must be. Allison nodded and smiled. “Great. If you two can look at the list and divide it between you, I’ll get in touch with the Southern Hemisphere Antarctic Division regarding logistic and legislative requirements for the excavation.”

  Rick’s eyes reflected his amusement at Allison’s restraint. “You might also want to try the Archaeology Department at the Uni of New England. Weren’t they the initial group involved in the McKinley expedition?”

  Dianne looked at Rick and then Allison. “What was that one about?”

  Hah! And you call yourself an archaeologist? Any first year student knows about that. Allison’s conscience again kicked her in the butt. Hmm, gotta stop going there.

  “It was an expedition first conducted in the 1980’s that involved excavating Sir Daniel McKinley’s hut,” Allison said. “He was the first man to lead a small team to the South Magnetic Pole. The information’s a little dated but it’s a start point.” Dianne nodded. “I’ll need some time to get this pack together. How about we meet tomorrow morning to nut out what we’ve got so far? How does a working breakfast in the conference room sound?”

  Rick nodded. “Oh, great. I’ll bring the coffee.”

  Dianne’s perfect picket fence smile was almost too much for Allison. “Oh great! I’ll bring the croissants and French pastries.”

  Allison nodded, like the head of a plastic dog in a car’s rear window, as she ushered Rick and Dianne to the door. Oh great! God give me strength.

  OVER THE NEXT six days Allison worked her small team hard and they met regularly, providing each other with updates. Allison spent the time preparing a brief that would satisfy Peterson, but as the days passed one thing became clear. The information she’d gained from both the University of New England and the Southern Hemisphere Antarctic Division highlighted the need to start detailed preparation now, if they were to work in Antarctica during the upcoming summer months.

  Allison started her planning by securing, in principle, limited logistic support from Wills Station, one of three permanent Australian stations on the Antarctic continent, and the closest to the dig site. She also received an e-mail from Sarah Knight, advising her that the station’s tracked vehicle assets could be relied upon for the transportation of the dig’s larger items. Despite such support, a surface distance of nine days between the site and the station meant her team would have to be self-sufficient. This would mean dividing among the group the more routine tasks, while still maintaining a focus on the dig itself.

  She also identified the need for any Antarctic team to undertake suitability testing, to ensure they could actually operate in extreme conditions without tragic or adverse outcomes. Allison checked the companies conducting such testing and tentatively booked a fourteen-day camp in Mount Cook, New Zealand.

  Allison couldn’t help but wonder at the seemingly endless list of tasks. There was the transportation of the team, their stores, and equipment to the white continent to deal with. She had to establish the site, conduct the dig, and finally extract the team and any artifacts in only eight weeks. Then when she had the team and the artifacts home, she had to oversee the creation of an artificial Antarctic environment to ensure the artifacts didn’t deteriorate in the museum’s different climatic conditions.

  After the frantic pace of the past week, Allison’s presentation to Mr. Peterson felt anti-climatic. She was grateful for Dianne’s smooth handling of Peterson’s belligerent interjections. It was obvious to Allison that Dianne had worked on her father before the project brief.

  Allison collected her papers as Peterson slammed the door on his way out. “Two-fifths of the funding. At least that’s a start. Still, it seemed to go a little bit too well, especially given the old, er, Mr. Peterson’s objections last week. Rick, how did we go with securing private funding?” Her stomach sunk at the look on Rick’s face.

  “No go on donations from the business sector. All the institutions I approached have locked in their donations for the next financial year and have published those bequests. To go back on their word would be very untidy. That, and the recent economic downturn, meant they weren’t all that keen to part with any more funds.”

  Allison shook her head. “Great. Is there any good news?”

  “A little. Financial donations might have been hard to come by but we’ve gained some attractive material donations and sponsorship, including clothing and accommodation contributions for the duration of our stay on Antarctica. Another company has agreed to provide some specialist equipment and air fares to our departure point if we get past the selection stage in New Zealand,” Rick replied.

  Allison smiled. “Well, at least that’s something, but it’s not going to cover all the expenses. What about you, Di? Did you manage to drum up any support from Sydney’s social community?”

  Dianne shook her head. “It’s the same story as Rick’s. B
ut I did get an offer from the Double Bay Ladies Croquet Club to knit some lovely woolen socks for the expeditionary.”

  Allison shrugged. Great, just what I need. “At least that’s something. Please thank them and let them know we’ll be in touch. What about the Trusts, any luck?”

  “Same, same. Wrong time of year. Those who were most interested are more focused on seeing if they could fund an expedition themselves.”

  Allison searched her mind for any other funding options the team hadn’t already exhausted and then it dawned on her. That’s why the old bastard looked so smug during the presentation. He knew that even if he committed funds to the excavation, we’d never be able to fund the rest. She forced herself to refocus on the problem at hand. “What about a Government Grant? Surely the State and Federal Governments would be interested?”

  Dianne looked down at her briefing points. “State Government, no. They suggested that the discovery was one of national significance and should be funded by a Federal Government Grant. I wasn’t having much luck with the Federal Government either so I spoke to Uncle Conrad. You remember, he’s a Federal sitting member?” Allison and Rick nodded. “He spoke with his party members and they’ve agreed to fund our team accommodations on one of the Antarctic ice breakers. We’ll have to pay for cargo space though. He didn’t think the Party’s generosity would spread that far.”

  Bloody tightwad politicians. Of course they’d support the least financially draining aspect of the journey. Then they could say they’d done something. “That’s better than nothing. But where do we get the remaining three-fifths of the funding before someone else galumphs us and gets there first?”

  Chapter Two

  My Darling Charlotte,

  It seems days since I have been able to share my thoughts with you. The sea swells I mentioned in my last entry developed into one of the most ferocious storms I have ever encountered. The sea itself boiled in an ugly green anger, as if affronted at our small craft’s incursion into its territory. The waves, like towering mountains, were bigger than anything I have ever seen before. It was not unusual for our little vessel to enter the trough of a wave, and for us to look up and see nothing but water above the highest point of the ship. It was as if the ship was no more than one of little Robert’s toys, being tossed about in the frothy water of his bath at home.

  Seasickness then struck the crew. Although they were reticent to take even the smallest morsel of food, I ordered cook to prepare a light meal for consumption at least once a day. To lose one’s stomach and strength in such foul weather may well have been our undoing. As for cook, he was magnificent. Regardless of his seasickness, he soldiered on—I bless the day I signed him to the expedition’s company.

  Perhaps the most tragic outcome of this horrible storm was the loss of six of our dogs. The lashings on the deck could not withstand the force of the waves and sadly the dogs were swept to their death. It was a terrible loss for the crew, but thankfully the rest of us remain intact.

  We are in relatively calmer waters now and hoping for a safer passage for the rest of our journey. God bless.

  ERF

  Houston, Texas—2009

  MICHELA DEGASSER’S FOCUS on her digital tablet was broken by the arms that traced a path down her shoulders before coming to rest on her chest. “Hey there.”

  A soft kiss grazed Michela’s cheek.

  “Hey yourself. What’s keeping you up so late?” Natalie asked.

  Michela glanced at the clock in the corner of her screen. “Is that the time? I didn’t realize. I was looking at the Antarctica Today website. There’s a report suggesting they’ve found the remains of an historical expedition, previously thought to be a myth.” Her voice command took Michela to the pertinent area in the article. “He’s an American called Finlayson and they’re saying if the remains are genuine, then his would have been the first party to actually have spent time on Antarctica.”

  Natalie ruffled Michela’s hair. “Still ruing not seeing a winter out on the Continent? I thought your current job would occupy enough of your time.”

  Michela shrugged and shifted in her chair. “It wasn’t my fault my leg broke when it did. Instead of my own studies into humans in extreme environments, I ended up having to rely on the findings of others.”

  Natalie leaned forward and squinted at the screen. “I don’t understand. What’s this got to do with you?”

  Michela wiped an invisible speck of dust from the side of her digital tablet. “The name of the glaciologist who made the discovery was mentioned and so I e-mailed her. Apparently there’s a group in Australia attempting to mount an expedition to excavate the actual hut and surrounds. But they’re struggling to raise funds.”

  “This isn’t getting any clearer,” Natalie said.

  “If they manage to get the funding, Sarah, the glaciologist who made the discovery, said the archaeological team would be going down to Antarctica for about eight weeks to conduct the dig. It would be a great opportunity for me to conduct the practical aspects of my Mars mission research. The Institute might even agree to provide some funding.” Natalie abruptly disentangled herself from Michela. Michela turned in her chair and looked at her. “What’s the matter?”

  Natalie bitterly laughed. “How many years have we been together?”

  “Four-and-a-half. Why?”

  “During that time, how long have we actually been in the same location?”

  Michela sensed where the conversation, no argument, was heading. She stood and reached for Natalie’s hand but Natalie backed away. Michela tilted her head and crossed her arms. “Honey, you’re a model and I’m a psychologist. We’ve both got established careers. We’ve always known that travel would be a part of our jobs and that sometimes we’d be away from each other.”

  Natalie snorted. “That’s an understatement. We’ve spent less than a year-and-a-half in the same location and I’m getting a bit tired of it.”

  “We’ve been able to spend a lot of time together lately,” Michela said calmly. “Besides, you’ve had your fair share of trips away. Why don’t we sit down and talk about it over a cup of coffee—”

  Natalie glared. “God damn it! I’m not one of your subjects. I’m your lover. Every damn time I try and discuss something you make me feel as if I should be looking for a couch!”

  “I do not. I’ve never spoken to you in that manner. And while we’re on the subject, what’s this obsession with me being so far away from you?” Michela unfolded her arms and took a step toward Natalie. “Regardless of where I am in the world, it’s you I love. Do we need to be in the same place for you to know that?”

  Natalie paced. “Hell, yes, I do! On top of never knowing when you’re going to return, everything you do is damn dangerous. In Alaska you were nearly killed by a Polar bear. And then there was Nepal and your altitude sickness, just so you could assess the effect on the thought processes of humans. That trip almost killed you.”

  Michela inwardly cringed. But this is what I do. “You’ve always known my job came with the occasional occupational hazard. But, at no time has my life been actually threatened.”

  “Oh, really? So you being captured and held hostage by guerillas in Borneo and being one of only nine to survive doesn’t constitute a threat to your life? It was six months before you could cope with a full day of work.”

  Michela’s memories of barely surviving the thirty days of terror and privation were as clear as if it had happened only yesterday and she gently took Natalie in her arms. “Darling, this trip may never get off the ground. The complete funding is yet to be guaranteed and if that doesn’t happen, then obviously they, and possibly I, won’t be going anywhere.”

  “Yes. But if they, and I guess now you, do raise the funds, you’ll leave me again, won’t you?”

  Michela stroked Natalie’s long black hair. “Yes. But this will be the last time, I promise.”

  Natalie propelled Michela out of her arms. “Right. And that’s what you said last time.”
She stormed out of the office, nearly dislodging the door from its hinges as she slammed it behind her.

  MICHELA REVIEWED HER notes one last time before her meeting with the Institute’s Director. She’d thrown herself into preparation for this meeting and yet the troubles she was experiencing at home still invaded her thoughts. She was so preoccupied with last night’s attempt at reconciliation with Natalie that she almost missed the polite tones of Dr. Reilly’s secretary.

  “Excuse me, Dr. DeGrasse, Dr. Reilly will see you now.”

  Michela stood and gathered her notes. “Thank you.” She gently knocked before entering the office.

  “Good morning, Dr. DeGrasse.” Dr. Reilly stood up from his desk and picked up his coffee cup. “Please have a seat.”

  “Thank you,” she said as she sat in a plush leather seat at the coffee table.

  Dr. Reilly took a seat across from her. “What brings you to the more mundane administrative offices of the Institute?”

  “I was wondering whether you’re aware of the recent discovery in the Antarctic,” Michela said.

  “Which one are you referring to? They regularly make so many discoveries down there.”

  Michela sat forward, barely masking her enthusiasm.

  “Around two weeks ago a discovery was made that suggested the remains of the Finlayson expedition had been found. The glaciologist who made the discovery confirmed there were no other historical sites in that area.”

  Dr. Reilly sat back. He stroked his upper lip in thought and then nodded. “He was an American explorer of the late nineteenth century. A bit of an eccentric, I believe. If I remember correctly, it’s thought he didn’t make it to Antarctica.”

  “That’s correct. The Flinders Museum of Australasian Exploration is currently trying to raise the money needed to fund a dig. To date they’ve managed to raise two-fifths of the entire amount.”

  Dr. Reilly smiled and picked up his cup. “Given we’re talking about the proposed expedition, I’m assuming this has some remote link to your research.”