Ming pushed her cup forwards, and then reached out for Vic's. “Drink, the air's too dry here.”
Gus filled everyone's mug, even Doc's and then put the pot in the middle of the table. “Drink up, there's plenty of tea for everyone. If there's anything we're not likely to run short of, it's tea.”
He wrinkled his nose. “It's good tea, too.”
Ming took a long swallow of tea, and then delicately placed her mug in the center of the table. “Do we have any plans or are you all just going to charge off in random directions until we run out of food?”
Kehla threw her head back and laughed out loud, before taking a quick drink. “You three do have a habit of charging into things.”
Gus glanced across the table at Vic, who shrugged, but neither said anything.
“How bad is the situation?” Kehla asked Doc.
“Pretty bad.” Doc looked around the table. “We have just over a month's worth of food and no practical form of transportation. Gilly left in the airship, and we don't have enough crew to operate Hansen's ship safely. Even with a reduced crew, we could easily make it to South Africa if we waited two or three months.”
“But we don't have the three months,” Ming said.
“I'm not going to sit here and starve to death.” Vic met Doc's eyes defiantly. “So when do we leave?”
“You haven't heard the other options.”
“You haven't given us any other options.”
Gus caught his eye. “She's right, you haven't given us any other options.”
Kehla coughed. “Is there anywhere else we might get supplies?”
Doc shook his head. “Hansen's expedition is the only one that's wintering over this year. A British expedition left in the spring, but that was the last one.”
Vic met his eye. “There's something you aren't telling us, isn't there.”
Doc pulled out the map he had found in Hansen's ship and laid it out on the table, sweeping his cup to the side. After weighting the corners with mugs and a couple of sets of salt and pepper shakers he stood back to let the others look at it.
“Fascinating.” Gus pursed his lips and exhaled slowly. Taking his glasses out of his vest pocket, he perched them on his face and then leaned over the map. As the others watched, he traced the coastline with a thick finger, muttering to himself all the while. “So that's what it looks like.”
He took another look at the map and then met Doc's eye. “That's the actual coastline, isn't it.”
Doc nodded. “Yes, and as near as I can remember it is accurate, or at least it would have been at the time it was originally drawn.”
“So what's the X?” Vic asked, laying a finger directly on top of the map.
“If I am reading this correctly,” Gus replied, “that appears to be a subglacial lake.”
“More to the point,” Doc said, “I believe that is where both Professor Hansen and our friend Gilly disappeared to.”
“Are you sure?” Ming asked, frowning.
“Not entirely.” Doc looked over the table. “There is some evidence, but I wouldn't call it entirely compelling.”
“What kind of evidence?” Kehla said, squeezing her mug.
“First, there's the map,” Doc explained. “I found it in Hansen's cabin aboard the ship, so I have to assume he had a reason to highlight this particular lake.”
“I see your point,” Gus replied, “though I don't know that I'd call it particularly convincing on its own.”
“It's not any one piece of evidence,” Doc replied, “It's the sum of all of them.”
“So what are the others?” Vic's face was shining.
“There's the model in Hansen's hut that bears an amazing resemblance to a lake bottom, quite possibly the same one marked on the map.”
“How close? Can we look at it?” Kehla said, fidgeting on the bench.
“I don't think it would be a good idea.” Doc looked around the table. “Gilly saw that model, and lost at least half an hour in a trance, right before he took off in the airship. For the moment, I don't think any of the rest of you should look at it. None of you have my mental training.
“Also, there are those creatures we've encountered. Both the one in the boat, and the similar ones in the ship. I know Gus hasn't had time for an autopsy, but they are clearly aquatic, and since I've never heard of anything like them before, they can't be common.”
“So you surmise they may inhabit one of the subglacial lakes?” Gus cupped his chin. “That's certainly a reasonable possibility.”
“So let's go already,” Vic cut in. “We can get everyone in the tractor and head for the lake.”
“Isn't that a bit premature,” Gus replied. “Let's at least make sure these creatures are adapted to the water in one of those lakes.”
Ming nodded. “Yes, we could use more information. We can use the table in one of the other huts.”
“And how much time is that going to take?” Vic waved her mug in the air. “First we examine the creatures, then we go through the ship with a fine-toothed comb.”
She spilled tea over her hand and shook it off, sending droplets spraying across the table. “You'll be digging through that ship while we run out of food, and we'll be no further along than we are now, but with no supplies.” Vic wiped the droplets away from the map.
“I say we load up the tractor and leave now!” She leaned back and took a deep breath, meeting Doc's and Gus's eyes in turn.
“What about fuel?” Ming turned towards Vic. “Do you really think that tractor has enough fuel in the tank to get wherever that lake is?”
“It will get us further and faster than walking.”
Gus coughed. “Fuel may not be a problem. We found several hundred gallons of gasoline aboard ship.”
“Can we get it out?” Ming asked. “That's a lot of weight.”
“It's in 50 gallon drums.” Gus grinned. “I can tuck one of those under each arm without breaking a sweat.” He rose to his full height, showing off his massive arms. “I know looks can be deceiving, but I'm not some scrawny little lab rat.”
Kehla poked him in the ribs. “Quit showing off for the ladies. They aren't interested.”
“Yes, dear.” Gus sat down.
Ming chuckled softly.
Gus winked at her, and then his expression turned serious. “Just because we have the fuel doesn't mean it's necessarily a good idea; just that it's a possible one.”
Doc steepled his hands on the table. “So you say no?”
Gus nodded. “Yeah, I don't think it's a good idea. At least not yet.”
Doc sighed, and then met the others' eyes one at a time as he went around the table finishing up with Vic. “I know what you want to do.”
She just smiled.
“I think you're right, or at least more right than Gus this time.”
“What do you mean by that, more right than Gus?”
“His idea makes more sense; it's never good to rush in blind. I just don't think we have the time to do the research Gus wants. The longer it takes to find Gilly and the airship, the worse I think his chances are.”
“I thought we had more time to work with.” Gus curled his upper lip. “We do need some time to get ready for the trip, though.”
“Two days.” Doc said. “We leave the day after tomorrow.”
#
Two days later Vic was at the controls of the tractor as they pulled away from Hansen's base camp. With one eye on the gauges, she took it up to a steady fifteen miles an hour. The temperature read four degrees, and the gyrocompass pointed a little west of south. Doc sat in the passenger seat beside her, while Ming squeezed in with the gorillas on the rear bench. Vic glanced in the mirror, at the two sledges trailing behind. The first one held food, the second ten drums of gasoline. The extra two tons hanging off the back hurt the tractor's handling, but at least they were on their way.
Vic shifted in her seat as the tractor rumbled into the darkness, its single headlight piercing the gloom. The big str
aight eight up front smoothed out as she dropped into second gear. Exhaust pipes glowed, carrying heat under the cabin as two hundred and fifty horses pulled them into the night.
“You said eight hundred miles,” she told Doc, “so what's that, three or four days?”
“If we're lucky.” He pointed at the gyrocompass. “If we drive straight through, I calculate we can do it in fifty-four hours. That doesn't include time spent refueling, either. Four days would be good if we can manage to keep a straight course.”
Vic nodded, and then glanced over the instruments. Everything was looking good, engine temperature was in the middle of the range, oil pressure was good, and the tachometer was holding firm at 900 RPM. It was a lot slower than the aircraft she was used to, but at least she wasn't standing still.
The first two days had been easy enough. Vic had alternated driving with Doc, each taking four hour shifts. Ming wasn't comfortable with the tractor, and neither gorilla really fit, although Kehla could manage for an hour or two if she had to. They had climbed about five thousand feet, but only made it a hundred miles from the base. Now that they were on the icecap, everything had changed. Five miles an hour was a good speed, and sometimes the weather prevented them from reaching even that. At least the fuel was holding up. They were getting a good five miles per gallon and still had over four hundred and fifty gallons left in the tanks.
Vic's teeth chattered as she woke on what she thought was the morning of the third day, though it was hard to tell in the endless night of the Antarctic winter. Everything was quiet as she squeezed out of her sleeping bag and into the freezing cabin. Even Doc was asleep, sitting upright in the passenger seat. Ming stirred in her sleep, and Vic reached out a hand to stroke her hair, which shone softly in the dim glow of the single small bulb in the roof of the cab. The four of them had been huddling together to sleep, kept warm by the little Briggs & Stratton.
Vic jumped to her feet, smacking her head on the ceiling. She rubbed her head as the silence sank in. The little engine had stopped, and with it their only source of nighttime heat.
“Doc.” She poked him in the chest. “Wake up, we have a problem.”
His eyes snapped open. “The Briggs.”
Vic nodded grimly. “It stopped some time ago, and I don't know why. Either the cold or the quiet must have woken me up.”
Leaving Doc to stretch, Vic slipped into the driver's seat and stabbed the start button. The light dimmed as the starter whined, but the engine didn't catch. All the instruments looked good, even the voltmeter was showing a charge on the batteries. Vic put her thumb on the button and leaned into it. The engine cranked, fired, and then died. She hit the button again, but this time it barely cranked. “Come on, come on you worthless piece of pot metal! Turn over.”
It didn't.
Vic released the switch and glared at the control panel. The voltmeter had already dropped more than half way from her few attempts to start. She glanced over to see Doc, who had been watching the whole thing.
“Did you try to restart the Briggs?”
Vic shook her head. “I was afraid if I spent too much time on the Briggs the batteries would lose too much charge.” She shrugged. “Guess I was too late anyway, so time to look at the Briggs.”
“Right.”
Vic reached down for the starting handle on the Briggs and gave it a short tug. It didn't move. She leaned over, and tried again, this time with both hands, but it wouldn't budge.
“Let me try.” Doc leaned forward from the passenger seat.
She moved out of his way to give him room to move. A sideways look showed three faces looking out of their sleeping bags from the rear bench. Ming smiled groggily, while Gus simply raised a brow.
“Problems?”
“The Briggs died and we don't have enough juice in the batteries to start the engine.” Vic frowned.
“I see, that does sound like a problem.”
Doc looked up from the starting handle. “I can't budge it either. Can you give me a hand with the cover plate?”
Gus reached behind him into the interior storage and passed the toolkit forward. Vic dug in and passed Doc the adjustable wrench.
A moment later they were looking at a small single-cylinder engine that took up most of a compartment beneath the seats. Waving Doc aside, Vic disconnected the spark and started taking the engine apart. There wasn't a lot of space, so she skinned a couple of knuckles, but it didn't take long before she had it down to the block and cylinder. A few minutes later she knew the problem.
“It's seized.”
She shone her light into the crankcase where the connecting rod hung in mid stroke. Gingerly, she extended a finger to touch the end of the rod. It was sticky, covered with black congealed oil. It smelled burnt, too. Vic wiped her hands on a rag and pulled her head out of the engine compartment.
“Got any soda?”
Kehla raised her eyebrows. “You want soda?”
“No, the engine does.”
Now it was Gus's turn to raise an eyebrow. “I don't believe any kind of carbonated soft drink is truly combustible, no matter how it feels going down.”
Vic laughed. “No, it's a trick Gilly told me about. You can't put an engine back together if it's seized when you take it apart. What you do is fill the cylinder with soda and it eats away at the rings and everything so you can free the piston and then take it apart. Only problem is that it takes a week to soak, and I don't think I could put it back together anyway.”
“So what now?” Ming broke the silence that followed. “Do we just start walking?”
Gus shook his head. “Is it even possible? We're a hundred miles from Hansen's camp.”
“It doesn't matter,” Doc said. “We didn't leave any supplies behind, and I don't think anyone can carry them back.”
“Do we have any good news?” Kehla asked.
“Well, the engine up front still runs,” Vic replied. “We just need to figure out how to start it.”
“This is where you should have read the manual on the way down,” Doc said, smiling. “It's got a crank.”
“A crank?” Vic just looked at Doc. “You have a crank on a straight eight?”
“Think of it as suspenders and a belt.” Doc gestured towards the Briggs & Stratton. “Neither the Arctic nor the Antarctic is forgiving. I wanted to be sure I could start the engine.”
“I can get behind that idea.” Vic shifted in her seat. “So who gets to do the honors? I don't know if I can get that beast up front to turn over.”
Gus rustled in the storage area behind the seat for a moment, and then held up a piece of metal like a standard.
“I believe that honor should belong to me,” the gorilla said with a twinkle in his eye. “Unless, of course, you would be willing to arm wrestle me for it?”
“No, I think I'll let you do it,” Vic said. “Though I will join you outside.”
“I'm coming, too.” Ming squeezed out from between the two gorillas on the rear bench. “I need to stretch out.”
The three of them stepped out into the cold darkness. Vic held the only flashlight. The batteries were rechargeable, but it took forever so they avoided running them down unless they had to.
The sight that confronted them was starkly beautiful. The southern lights cast a faint glow over the icefield, reminding Vic of some of the old Russian fairy tales her nannies had told her as a little girl. The blue and green highlights caught the ice, flashing with the changes in the aurora. She caught her breath just as Ming's hand crept into hers.
“It's beautiful,” Ming breathed.
Vic didn't say anything, just squeezed Ming's hand. After a moment, she shook her head and followed Gus who had joined them on the ice sheet. He had the crank perched jauntily on one shoulder as he walked around the nose of the tractor. The bright silver grille on the front caught her flashlight, sending the beam everywhere. Luckily, the hole for the crank was easy to pick out.
Gus bent down and slowly inserted the hand crank into t
he hole. It sank in about six inches before locking into place. He tugged on it a few times to make sure it had settled and then waved the two women back.
He swung the handle back and forth a couple of times and then bent at the knee. Even in his bulky furs, Vic could see the power in Gus's movements. She had two or three inches on him in height, but he was over three times her weight and much stronger than the difference implied. Taking a grip on the handle, he gave it an experimental pull.
Up, over, and around he spun the crank.
The engine turned, rumbled, but did not fire.
Vic waved to Doc, who did something on the dash and then gave her a thumbs up.
“Okay Gus, give it a go,” she called.
The gorilla snapped her a salute, and then gave it another pull.
Up, over, around, the engine caught, and crack! The crank ripped free from Gus's hand and spun around to smash him in the forearm with a sickening snap. Rocked by the impact, the gorilla went one way and the crank handle went another.
Vic threw herself and Ming to the ice the moment Gus carried his spin over the top. Ice smashed into her chest, knocking the air out of her lungs. Gasping, Vic spun the light, trying to find the crank handle.
Meanwhile, Ming ran for the gorilla. Gus was flat on his ass, clutching his left arm and wincing. “It bit me.”
“You shouldn't have held on over the top.” Ming gave his arm a visual once-over. “I don't see any blood, but I'm still going to have a look at it inside.”
Gus nodded, and struggled to his feet. His normally dark skin was pale, but he seemed able to move.
Ming pulled her scarf free and wrapped it around his left arm in a makeshift sling. “You're going to need a hand free to climb back in.”
Vic left the two of them to their own devices as she moved off into the darkness. The reassuring rumble of the engine behind her provided an anchor as she swept her flashlight beam across the icecap. The crank couldn't have gone very far; the only question was what direction. Gus had been at the front left of the tractor, so it had probably bounced off to the right.
The ice was rough, scoured by the wind with no brush to break it. At five thousand feet the air was thinner than at Hansen's base. Vic sucked in deep breaths, her lungs burning with the cold. It may have read minus fifteen at the thermometer, but the wind chill added enough that her breath froze with every exhalation.
Attacked Beneath Antarctica Page 5