Beneath the Ice

by Alton Gansky

  “He doesn’t know. She kept it a secret from everyone. I was just going to tell Perry.”

  “Oh, you tell him first and then decide if I’m worthy to hear the news later.”

  “He is the team leader. Proper protocol requires that I tell him first and let him decide the next step.”

  “What’s the protocol for family?” he chided.

  Gwen shook her head. He had reached the point where talking was useless. He was quick with his tongue, and Gwen had never been able to outthink him in a debate. She doubted she would succeed this time.

  “I think you’re getting too close to the others,” Griffin said. “I think you’re being swayed because Perry is a tall, handsome guy. You’ve put your brains on the back burner and are letting urges take over.”

  A fire ignited deep in Gwen’s stomach. She took a step forward until her nose was a mere inch away from her brother’s. “I am my own person. I am no one’s puppet. I make decisions be-cause I have thought them through. My urges do not make up my mind for me. Besides, my urges are my business, dear brother. And as far as family loyalty goes, it is the only thing keeping me from slapping that arrogant look off your face. That is an urge I might give in to.”

  “You wouldn’t dare—” He stopped midsentence.

  “You ever say anything like that again, and you will find out what I dare.” She whirled and stomped from the room.

  Perry raised his eyes as something in his peripheral vision demanded his attention. He had been watching Gleason watch the monitors, wishing that Hairy could move faster than a few feet per hour. Someone was approaching. Dressed in a clean suit, Perry had trouble recognizing the person. All he could tell was that it was a woman. He hoped it was Gwen since he had ordered Sarah to rest.

  His hope was fulfilled as Gwen approached with a snap in her step he had not seen before.

  “How’s Sarah?” Perry asked when Gwen was in earshot.

  “Fine for the moment,” Gwen said. Perry thought the words were more forced than needed.

  “Any idea what happened?” Gleason asked, looking up from the monitors.

  Gwen looked at Gleason then at Perry.

  “You can speak freely,” Perry said, picking up on the unspoken question.

  “Sarah has narcolepsy,” Gwen blurted, then related the discussion she had had with the stricken woman and the minimal exam she had given.

  Perry leaned his head back and stared at the domed ceiling of the Chamber. He had been so careful, so demanding of details. How had that slipped past him?

  “She says it is a mild case and that she’s been living with it since her teen years. She also said she has medication to control it.”

  Perry shook his head and wished he could remove the face shield and rub his eyes. “Is she in danger?”

  “No,” Gwen said. “According to Sarah, more people have this than we realize. She hasn’t had serious problems before, and her episodes don’t last long.”

  “I don’t know why I didn’t recognize it when she passed out then awoke so quickly,” Gleason said, returning his attention to the video gauges. “My high school biology teacher had narcolepsy. One day while he was teaching, his speech became slurred, his eyelids drooped, and his knees went wobbly. We had a teaching assistant in the class who calmly stepped over to the man, took his arm, and called for a chair. I brought one up.” Gleason laughed. “That TA was great. A college girl as I recall. Anyway, she held up a finger to quiet the class, which was naturally disturbed, and said, ‘Watch.’ It wasn’t more than three minutes until my bio teacher hopped up and took a quick look around. Realizing what had happened, he gave us a thirty-minute lecture on the disorder. At the time, I thought it was the strangest thing I had ever seen.”

  “So you think it’s safe for her to carry on?” Perry asked his friend.

  “What choice do you have?”

  Perry let that fact circulate. “All right. She shouldn’t go out alone—”

  “I’ve already her told her that,” Gwen interjected. Her words carried an edge.

  Perry saw a strained look on Gwen’s face. “What’s wrong?”

  “I told you, she has—”

  “I was talking about you,” Perry said. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” She looked away.

  Perry reached out and touched her shoulder. “What’s happened?”

  “Nothing. I just had an argument with my brother. That’s all.”

  “That’s all?”

  She sighed. “I suppose it’s the stress. The plane going down, you boring through the ice to drop a machine in undisturbed water, my brother’s attitude and . . . and . . .”

  Perry felt Gwen’s shoulders soften and saw her head fall forward. He could hear her sniffing. He searched for words and found none. Instead, he pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. He had a fleeting thought about how ludicrous they must appear to Gleason: two people clad in sterile, protective garments, intertwined in an embrace.

  “I feel so stupid,” she said between sniffs.

  “No need,” Perry reassured her. “Either we deal with our emotions, or they will deal with us.”

  “Not very scientific of me,” she said.

  “Scientists have hearts and souls, too.”

  Gwen pulled back and laughed. “How does one blow one’s nose while wearing one of these suits?”

  “Very carefully,” Perry suggested, smiling.

  She pulled away. “Thank you. I’m sorry. I’m not usually given to tears.”

  “There’s no one here to shame you over that.” Perry looked up and was surprised to see someone standing a few feet away.

  Griffin stared back with an unmistakable, disapproving scowl. “Isn’t this sweet?”

  Gwen spun around. “What are you doing in here?”

  “We hadn’t finished our conversation,” he said bitterly, “although it seems pretty much over now.”

  “I don’t know what you’re thinking,” Perry said, “but it’s wrong.”

  “What’s that?” Gleason asked.

  “I know what I just witnessed, Mr. Sachs.”

  “Grif, you need to shut up,” Gwen said. “I warned you about your mouth—”

  “People?” Gleason stood.

  Perry was getting angry and doing his best not to show it. He had had all of Griffin he wanted. “Do you have something to say, Dr. James?”

  “Shut up!” Gleason shouted. “Listen. Does anyone else hear that?”

  Perry stopped and listened. A low rumbling had worked its way into the building. It was getting louder.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Gwen asked.

  “It sounds like a plane,” Perry said, sprinting for the air lock.

  Chapter 16

  Tia felt two emotions when the skids of the Casa 212 touched down on the ice: relief and excitement. Relief because she had grown weary of being confined in an aircraft, and excitement because of what lay ahead. Behind her, five men released their seat belts and stood, preparing themselves for the coming mission.

  Tia looked out the window and saw two domes, one larger than the other, a covered walk between them, and two rectangular buildings on either side of the smaller dome.

  She also saw several people pouring out of the structures to greet them. They were expecting something, and she knew why. The C-5 had been brought down in sight of the camp. Such a tragedy would certainly garner great attention, and someone would send a plane to check on those left at the site.

  That’s what they expected. What they didn’t know, Tia thought, was that the world believed everyone was on the plane and that all were dead.

  The Casa had flown over the crash site, and she had seen the carnage, the crater, and the scattered bits of metal that served as grisly ornaments on the ice.

  She looked at their smiling faces. A couple applauded. Ironic, Tia thought.

  “They look happy to see us,” one of the men said. “Shall we disappoint them?”

 
“Yes.”

  Perry watched the oddly shaped craft pull to a stop fifty feet from the Dome. The airplane was white and bore no logos on its exterior. It was moved by a pair of turboprops mounted to wings attached over the passenger area.

  “That’s a type of cargo plane, isn’t it?” Gleason asked.

  “It’s a Casa 212,” Perry said. “I rode in one about a year ago. It can carry passengers or cargo. There’s a loading ramp in the tail section.”

  As if on cue, a flat panel below the tail began to descend. Perry felt an odd sense of disquiet. He had been expecting a plane. One was not due for several weeks, but after the C-5 crashed, he had been sure someone would send out a search party. Still, something didn’t seem right.

  “Where are Sarah and Gwen?” Jack asked. “Don’t they want to greet our new friends?”

  “Women are smarter than men,” Dr. Curtis said. “They’ve probably stayed inside where it’s warm.”

  Perry looked at the round archaeologist and smiled. “You al-ways did prefer hot weather.” Condensation floated from his lips.

  “Maybe they’re setting up the barbecue,” Jack quipped. “I could go for some London broil. It would be the hospitable thing to do for our guests.”

  “Fine with me,” Gleason said. “Just so long as I don’t have to stand outside and watch you cook it.”

  Perry caught a glimpse of Griffin and found the same scowl he had seen chiseled into the man’s face.

  “Let’s not be rude, gentlemen,” Larimore said. “Let’s say hello to our new arrivals.”

  “Come on, come on,” Gwen said. “The men are already out there.” She slipped on her parka and began working the zipper. Sarah felt no desire to move faster.

  “We’re women. Aren’t we supposed to be late?” Sarah asked.

  “No need to perpetuate a false stereotype. I’m late only half the time.”

  “How did he take it?” Sarah asked.

  “What?”

  Her stomach churned. “You told Perry about my narcolepsy, didn’t you?”

  “I told you I was going to,” Gwen said. “It’s not something you can keep secret in a place like this. Now put on your coat. I must say, you’re not showing much enthusiasm.”

  “Why should I?”

  “Because we’ve been cut off from the world. Our radios are useless. That plane means we’re a good deal safer.”

  Sarah felt as if she were melting. “That’s what it means to you.”

  “What else can it mean?”

  “I may have to return on the flight. The project is going to go on without me.” She heard her voice crack.

  “No, it isn’t,” Gwen said. She stepped to Sarah and pulled her parka closed and zipped it like a mother would do for a child. “I didn’t say anything about sending you home and neither did Perry. He’s concerned about you, as he should be, but I don’t think he’s going to send you packing. After all, the cryobot is your baby.”

  “Gleason can run it.”

  “Yeah, well, I think you’re worrying about something that isn’t going to happen. Now let’s go.”

  Sarah watched Gwen turn toward the door. She followed and felt the slap and sting of the world’s coldest air. Gwen stopped midstep and gasped.

  “What?” Sarah asked and peered over Gwen’s shoulder.

  Gwen took a sudden step back and closed the door. “What do we do?”

  Sarah’s words came quickly. “We can’t help them now. We hide.”

  The first man emerged pointing a weapon at the group. It was such an unexpected sight that Perry was uncertain he was seeing it correctly. Perry recognized the weapon as a military-issue submachine gun—an MP-5. That gun alone could mow down he and the others before a word could be spoken. Four men and one woman followed the first man, each armed with the same weapon.

  They wore white parkas that blended perfectly with the snow and wore dark goggles that shielded their eyes not only from the environment but the view of their captives. They moved with confidence and in a pattern that suggested planning and training. The men fanned out, their weapons leveled at Perry and the others. Perry knew he was facing professionals, and he didn’t feel good about it.

  “Not what I expected,” Jack said. “Do you suppose they have the wrong address?”

  “I don’t think so,” Perry said.

  The smallest of the group, the woman, marched toward them. “Line up!”

  They complied. She walked before them, eyeing each one through her dark goggles like a general inspecting his troops. She moved back down the line and stopped in front of Jack. She gazed up at him.

  “I don’t think we’ve met,” Jack said.

  She swung the butt of her weapon in a fierce arc, connecting with the side of Jack’s head. He staggered back a step, and she sprang forward, this time jamming the barrel into the big man’s stomach. He doubled over, and she brought a knee to his face. Jack fell backward to the ice, his head bouncing once. He didn’t move.

  Perry took a step toward his friend, but the woman pointed the barrel at his face. “First rule: Take out the muscle.” She looked at Jack then back at Perry. “Are you Perry Sachs?”

  “Who wants to know?”

  “First the muscle,” she repeated, “then the brains.” She spun on a foot raising the other to deliver a devastating blow to Perry’s midsection. Perry felt like he had been hit by a car. Something hard hit the back of his head, and the snowy ice came crashing up. A half-second later, Perry realized the truth: The ice wasn’t rising; he was falling. He lay on the surface, the ice cold on his face, and then white ice turned to black.

  Perry rolled onto his back and struggled to remember where he was. The back of his head hurt, and the skin felt tight, as if someone had surgically inserted a large rock between scalp and skull. His hair felt matted, too. He reached up to touch the sore area and noticed his hands were bound with a nylon tie. Things were starting to come back to him.

  “Good to see you moving, buddy,” a voice said. “You had me worried.”

  Perry blinked a few times and rolled to the side. It was Jack. He was seated on a folding chair. Dried blood clung to his ebony skin. Like Perry his hands were bound.

  Perry struggled to sit up on the floor, and his abdomen exploded in pain. “I think we can officially say that we have been worked.” His voice sounded weak in his ears.

  “Yeah, and by a girl at that,” Jack said.

  “Help him to a chair,” a woman’s voice said. Perry looked

  up and saw a tall woman with long black hair and a marble expression standing a short distance away. She was still holding the machine gun. Two men hoisted Perry from the floor and dropped him on a chair. The movement was painful and the sudden rise from horizontal to vertical made his head pound and his mind spin.

  The fog in Perry’s mind lifted, and the scene came into focus. They were in the Dome’s common room. His team was all bound with the same nylon ties. Each was still in their outdoor gear. The attackers, however, had shed their white parkas. Perry counted five men and the one woman. Six in all. That was how many he had counted leaving the aircraft.

  “Would someone explain the meaning of all of this?” Perry asked.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” the woman said. “Your facility has been taken over, and you are being held hostage, left alive by my whim.”

  “I tried to tell them you meant to return that library book,” Jack said.

  “Your jokes don’t hide your fear, Mr. Dyson,” the woman said. “They make you seem small and petty.”

  “Ah, just the look I was going for.”

  “Shut up, Jack,” Griffin complained. “You’re just going to make them angry.”

  “You’d be wise to listen to Dr. James,” the woman said.

  “You know our names,” Perry said. The pain was raising a storm of nausea.

  “Of course I do,” she said with a sneer. “Do you think I’d fly all the way down here without knowing who I was going to face? We have very accurate
intelligence.”

  “We?” Perry said.

  “Yes, and don’t bother asking.” She paused and walked around the group. “I’m puzzled. I see Dr. James, Commander Larimore, and you—” she studied Curtis— “you must be Dr. Kenneth Curtis. You arrived after the others. True?”

  “Yes,” Curtis said. He looked pale and faint.

  “There is Gleason Archer, and there are your fearless, albeit inept, leaders, Perry Sachs and Jack Dyson.”

  “I’d give her an A for that,” Jack said. “Good memory.”

  “We seem to be missing two people,” the woman said. “Where are the ladies?”

  No one spoke.

  She sighed. “I am a very impatient woman. There should be two female scientists here, a Sarah Hardy and Dr. James’s sister, Gwen. I would like to know where they are.”

  “They’re not here,” Larimore said.

  “My intelligence sources say they are.”

  “All right, I’ll tell you exactly where they are,” Larimore said.

  Perry tensed and raised his eyes to the commander, who looked the other way.

  “I’m listening, Commander. Make it quick.”

  “You go out that door and start walking that way,” he said, motioning with his head. “You’ll find a big hole in the ice and a lot of body parts lying around.”

  “You’re saying they died in the crash of the C-5?” She stepped over to him, crouched down, and stared into his eyes.

  “That’s what I’m saying. They’re dead, most likely due to you.”

  She straightened. “We brought the plane down,” she admitted, “but I doubt the ladies were aboard. They’re essential to your work here.”

  “We’re not at the Honolulu Hilton,” Larimore said. “These are adverse conditions. Sarah came down with altitude sickness. Gwen is our paramedic. She was flying back to McMurdo to make sure Sarah arrived safely.”