The Last Outpost

by Hannah Ross

  Whether it was the tea, or simply the change of pace and atmosphere, Zoe relaxed and leaned back in one of Jerry's folding easy chairs. "You wanna swap jobs with me?" she asked.

  "Not a chance. What, deal all day long with people who are hysterical because their email didn't get through, or because their internet calls keep getting disconnected? I'll stay here with my lettuce and radishes, thank you very much."

  Zoe placed her cup upon the little counter next to the sink. "Thanks for the tea, Jerry," she said. "You guys coming for lunch? I think it's meatballs and pasta today. We still have half an hour left."

  As Scott and Jerry followed her out of the greenhouse, the latter muttered, "I think I should propagate some more lavender. People are going to need it this winter. And, unlike alcohol, it's easy to keep going."

  "Yes," Scott agreed, "we should limit how much alcohol people can buy at the station store. Don't want anybody to develop a habit."

  Jerry smiled. "I knew you'd get these ideas eventually. That's why I set up my own little brewing station."

  Scott shot him an alarmed look. "Jerry, don't put me in a difficult position. You know that brewing alcohol at McMurdo is illegal. I would have to report you to the Antarctic Program if I ever caught you in the act."

  "But you won't," Jerry clapped him on the back, "because you're a good friend, and will always be wise enough to look away if you happen to see anything unusual. Relax, Buck. The London Tower is probably crumbling down as we speak. What's a little home-brewed moonshine compared to that?"

  ***

  The autumn Equinox was over now, and the last sunset was approaching fast. Scott was determined to witness this last glimmer of sunshine before the long and dark winter in the valley of the Anai, and participate in their winter-welcoming celebration as he had promised. Fortunately for him, the AN-85 research team was also planning to take advantage of this last bit of sunshine. Stanley would take them all in the helicopter, and they would probably stay overnight. Sue Ellis, of course, emphasized time and time again that 'while the Anai were fascinating, excessive contact with them was inadvisable'. Scott turned a deaf ear, however. Sue Ellis was a pain in the rear, but she was alright, and wouldn't report him to the Antarctic Program supervisors unless he committed a gross breach of moral conduct akin to Victor Nash.

  In preparation for the last sunset, Scott left all the affairs of the station in good order and, while Nash was nominally left in charge – he could not be stripped of his official authority, after all – little remained for him to do.

  Scott looked forward to the start-of-winter feast with great anticipation, but was unwilling to admit just how eager he was growing to see Tahan again. She had promised to take him to the Cave of Spirits once more on his next visit, and it had been tacitly understood they would be alone. Scott recalled the light of the oil lamp shining dimly in her golden hair, and her lilting accent giving a charm to the English words she was learning fast. It is not about her, he would have said if someone had unduly probed into his thoughts. I am a researcher, and I wouldn't compromise my professionalism. It wouldn't be strictly true, however. His fascination with the Anai was quite unlike his fascination with microorganisms found under a sheet of ice. The valley drew him on like a magnet, and he wouldn't rest until he returned there.

  Chapter 14

  The warm humidity of the geysers was infinitely soothing after the icy blasts of wind upon the descending trail. It was dark, and Scott directed his steps by the twinkling lights of the village. Tahan heard his steps and came forward to meet him, followed by Egan, who bounced happily and clamored to be tossed into the air.

  "Come in," she said. "You in good time. There are hours until the celebration, but all is ready soon."

  "Will there be time to go to the Cave of Spirits?" Scott asked, lowering his voice.

  "Oh yes, plenty time. I take you soon. But first, come in, meet Omrek."

  Ri Omrek was sitting cross-legged in front of the fireplace, darning a tear in the sole of his moccasin with the help of a bone needle and a thin filament of sinew drawn through it. Upon seeing Scott, he got up, smiled, and the two men grasped arms.

  "We glad to see you. Feast will be fine. Torn shoes not good to wear to feast, though," he frowned, shaking his head at the moccasin.

  "Leave it, Omrek. These shoes have done their work," his sister said in Anai. "I made new ones for you," she went on, reached into one of her storage baskets, and produced a newly-made pair of handsome sealskin moccasins, sleek and shiny and embroidered with colored leather filaments in diamond patterns near the top. Omrek's face brightened.

  "When did you have the time to do this, Tahan, and I didn't notice?" he hastened to pull the moccasins on his feet and walked around. "Fit so well – thank you! That is a nice winter gift."

  "You're welcome, Omrek. Will you and Egan be fine here for a while? Scott wants to see the Cave of Spirits again."

  "Sure. You go. Just be back in time to season the mulluvik steaks. I don't know how to do it right, and we don't want to be late for the feast."

  "We'll be back long before then," Tahan promised and, taking an oil lamp and putting on her parka, she led Scott outside.

  As before, once they were within the cave she sat on the floor cross-legged, placed the oil lamp before her, and bowed her head. Scott did likewise, relishing the peace and tranquility of which he had enjoyed so little during the past weeks. The quiet, however, also let loose the troubling thoughts he usually managed to suppress: were his parents safe back home? Would Brianna consent to talk to him again? How was Laura coping, and what were the chances Harry was sent to the frontline? How would McMurdo pull through the winter, and upon what world would the sun rise at the end of the dark season?

  When Tahan raised up her face, she seemed to notice his expression, for she frowned.

  "What is the matter, Scott? Is anything wrong?"

  They were now speaking in a mixture of English and Anai, as Scott has been a diligent student, and passed the previous weeks learning all he could from the Anai vocabulary, as well as going over the notes he had made on the language after his previous visit to the valley.

  He hesitated. How much would she understand? The Anai existence was so peaceful, so sheltered. "Tahan, there is a war going on beyond the sea. Do you know what a war is?"

  "It's... when people get so angry they fight and kill each other? We had that in the valley some generations ago. The Ne clan fought the Ro clan, and ten men were killed before the elders managed to stop the bloodshed. That was abomination to the spirits and, fortunately, we haven't had anything like that in my time, nor in my parents' time."

  "Well, imagine that over the sea, there are countries, each one thousands, tens of thousands times bigger than the settlement in your valley, and they fight each other with all their might, and there is nobody to stop them, and thousands of people die every day."

  Tahan's eyes grew wide with horror. "But then, soon no people will be left in the world!"

  Despite everything, Scott suppressed a little smile. "I wouldn't be so pessimistic. There are many, many people in the world... but yes, far too many are losing their lives. It is one of the worst wars, possibly the worst, in the history of mankind."

  "But why? Why do they fight?"

  He sighed. "I barely understand myself. Land, wealth, power, control... what did the clans Ne and Ro fight for?"

  "Over a field that lay between their homes, and over a woman who was said to favor a man of the Ro clan, and then went with a man of the Ne clan. It was all about their pride, mostly."

  "Well, so it is for the countries beyond the sea, I think, only on a larger scale."

  "And your family is there? You must fear for them," Tahan touched his arm sympathetically.

  "Yes, my parents and sister... my sister's husband was sent out to fight, though he didn't want to – our government, that is, our chiefs, sent him. And then there is my... wife. Well, not for long, I think, but..." he trailed off.

 
"What do you mean?" Tahan frowned.

  "My wife sent me a message telling me I might as well never come home again."

  "She wants to tear down your hearth and home?" Tahan clarified. This expression, Scott knew, meant the equivalent of divorce in the tongue of the Anai. He nodded.

  "But why? Have you been unkind to her?"

  "She... she feels this way, I guess. Because I went away."

  "Away, here? Beyond the sea? But why couldn't she go with you?"

  "She could, I guess, but... she chose not to. She... didn't want to leave home."

  Tahan shook back her golden braid. "But what good is a home without her husband?" she asked. "If I could follow Daygan anywhere, I would, if it meant I can be with him again. Maybe..." she hesitated. "Maybe if I couldn't take Egan with me, it would be hard. But you say you have no children."

  "No. Brianna, she... I did ask her to come with me, but I guess it was too much for her." Scott got up. "Let's not talk about sad things right now," he said. "It's the winter feast soon. I don't want to burden you with my troubles."

  "It's not a burden," Tahan said. "If a man cannot speak the sadness upon his heart, it turns into poison, and he cannot be happy. It's a good thing you speak. But it's not good to think of sad things always, either. Sometimes you have to... go away. Inside, in your heart. I used to go away a lot, after Daygan went on to land of darkness."

  Scott nodded. He was examining the walls of the cave again. They were almost completely covered with old paintings, some of them so small and intricate it would take months to peruse them. Some corridors were leading off the main cave, and he knew there were more paintings there.

  One drawing in particular arrested his eye. He had never noticed it before. It depicted a man of the Anai, poised with a long spear, in a battle position against what looked like a giant, long-toothed, winged lizard. Next to it were other paintings, all done in a similar theme. Sometimes the men were armed with bows, sometimes with spears or clubs; sometimes the great reptiles had no feet, looking more like snakes; at other times, their legs were long and bent at the joint, giving them the look of spiders. Some were men-sized, others, in proportion, depicted to be as big as a hill.

  "What is that?" he asked Tahan.

  "These are the monsters the First Anai had to fight when they came from across the sea and found the valley," she said. "Look, here is the tale." She pointed to lines of writing next to the paintings of the giant lizards, and with her help, Scott read:

  "Though the Hand of the Spirit opened the warm and fertile valley for the First Anai, it was inhabited by monsters, and only the brave of heart would deserve to vanquish them. The monsters had lived in the valley since ancient times, and the warriors of the Anai fell upon them to drive them away. Many men lost their lives, but the valley was now safe for the Anai people. The beasts crawled and flew away, leaving their nests and their eggs behind. Since their blood was cold, they could not live long without the warmth of the valley, and froze into the ice walls. Some of them are still living within the ice, and can be awakened as a punishment for the unworthy."

  Scott looked at Tahan, astonished. "This can't be true, can it?"

  "Why do you think so?" she sounded surprised. "There are places where one can see the bones of these terrifying beasts, great bones, much bigger than mulluvik. I see them once, up a path leading some way from the bay. It's a hard climb, but I can take you there when the sun rises again. Not good to go there in the dark. And some elders claim," she lowered her voice, "that they had seen not bones, but such a monster itself, whole and entire, frozen into a wall of ice, its great eyes open in a warning to the trespassers. That was many years ago, though. My grandfather told this to me when I was little."

  Scott was flabbergasted. He knew there had been dinosaurs in Antarctica, but there couldn't have possibly been living specimens as recently as eight thousand years ago... could there? Yet the paintings upon the wall were surprisingly life-like, and the writings, too – it was a fact, actually, that the dinosaurs were cold-blooded and had lain eggs. The Anai tale corroborated this, in what was too much to be a mere coincidence. Theoretically, it was possible that some dinosaur species had survived in the unique sheltered conditions of the Geyser Valley. And the bones Tahan mentioned – their age could be analyzed, and if they were as fresh as she claimed, it would be one of the most amazing discoveries in the history of modern science!

  "What are you thinking?" Tahan asked, seeing him stand for a long time before the wall paintings and the written symbols.

  "I'm thinking how brave your ancestors were," Scott said. "If they fought such enormous beasts and lived to tell the tale..."

  "They had no choice," Tahan said. "It was either fight the monsters, or be driven back to the Frozen Land and face certain death. So they fought, and they won. Men can do a lot of things when they know they have to."

  "That's true," Scott admitted. "Should we get going? I don't want to be late for the feast."

  "Yes," she said, glimpsing out of the cave. "The sun sets soon, and in the village they are spreading the feast. Come, Scott, let's walk quickly."

  ***

  When they came back, they found Omrek ready and impatient to go. He was wearing a new and handsome tunic and breeches, the tunic fringed with fur and embroidered with seal-bone beads. "Hurry up," he told his sister and Scott. "We don't want to miss the dancing."

  "You mean to say, you don't want to miss the dancing," Tahan corrected him with a smile, "and we all know who you want to dance with." She laughed with delight at her brother's blush. "We'll be ready soon, Omrek. Wait for us, and you can carry this big basket. It has the mulluvik. I will take the seasoning with me, and do it above the fire. Egan! Come here."

  The little boy came forward, and his mother regaled him with the clothes she had made for him in the weeks before – the soft tunic and breeches and new parka made out of the seal pup skin, and a new pair of little moccasins, quite similar to his uncle's. Egan stomped around in delight.

  "Thank you, Mother," he said. "I made something for you, too." He reached under the bedcovers and pulled out a small whistle made of seal-bone. Tahan blew it, and it emitted a gentle, fluttering sound.

  "Oh, Egan, this is beautiful. Did you make it all yourself?" she said delightedly, kissing the top of his head.

  "Uncle helped me," Egan confessed, and Omrek grinned.

  "Change your clothes, Scott," Tahan said. "Here..." she pulled a very handsome man's outfit from her storage basket. The tunic had the richest embroidery Scott had ever seen - triangles and diamonds and circles all made of tiny sinew filaments colored yellow and red and green, and a fringe made entirely of whale ivory beads that made a gentle clanking sound against each other. It had been the work of months, not weeks, and he knew each bead was made by Tahan's hands with love and care.

  "This is a very handsome tunic," he said, straightening the bead fringe. "It must have been Daygan's."

  "Yes, but here is something that did not belong to Daygan, something I made just for you."

  She pulled back her bedcovers and took out something soft and shiny and sleek, all bundled up, and placed it in Scott's hands. He shook it out. It was a sealskin parka, long, handsome, and waterproof, with a deep hood to shelter the head and face. It had no embroidery or bead decorations, but the ivory buttons at the throat and chest were polished until they felt like silk, and the natural pattern of the fur was beautifully brought out. There was rich trimming around the hood and along the hem, made of, Scott was surprised to see, the same silvery seal pup fur that made up Egan's outfit.

  He put it on, as if in a dream. The parka fell down in soft folds, and he noticed it fit him exactly at the shoulders. Tahan smiled with delight.

  "I got your shoulder width just right," she said. "It looks good on you."

  "Very nice parka," Omrek approved as well. "You should have one of your own, for Frozen Land winter."

  Scott swallowed a lump that for some reason came up and clogged his thro
at. "It's... it's beautiful," he managed to squeeze out. "I have never had anything like this to wear, for my own, in my life. Thank you, Tahan. It must have been a lot of work."

  "Not too much," she said. "I had the tanned sealskin from last year, and the buttons were ready too, I just hadn't gotten around to making anything with them. And the trimmings were easy, I had the fur left over from Egan's clothes."

  "Come, Tahan," Omrek hurried her. "Put on your parka and let's go."

  She looked at him reproachfully. "Like this? You should know better, Omrek. I must change my clothes. You go ahead – take the basket, and you, Scott, take this one. Egan, you can carry this bundle, it isn't heavy. Go on, I will follow you as soon as I'm ready."

  Omrek rolled his eyes and shook his head. "You are joking. If we leave you here alone to dress, you won't be ready until the sun comes down and up again after the dark season. No, we'll wait for you, Tahan. Just hurry up."

  Tahan ushered them all behind the partition, where they sat on Omrek's bed and patiently waited. Scott heard the rustle of clothes and the lids of storage baskets being opened and closed. Finally, she called out, "I'm ready!" and they came out. Scott had to fight down a small gasp.

  She looked quite different from what he had gotten used to see her, in her customary sealskin tunics and breeches. She wore a saffron-colored dress made of grass fabric, one he had briefly seen before and admired, which was just a little less lavish than her wedding gown. A sash of ivory beads accentuated her waist, and the full skirts of the dress reached almost as far as the ground, with intricate embroidery along the hem. The sleeves were wide and embroidered as well. Tahan's hair was twisted up and held in place by a long ivory pin. Egan let out a whoop of admiration and came forward to touch his mother's skirt, and she smiled at the sight of the men’s expressions.

  "Well, I'm ready now," she said, "let us go."

  Feeling a little like a pack mule, Scott carried a leather sack of cooking utensils, in addition to the bag of food. They progressed carefully towards the village center, while the sun was low in the sky. The cooking fires and oil lamps were already lit, and a crowd of Anai, all festively dressed, was milling about. Some were already turning haunches of meat on sticks above the cooking fires, or placing closed clay pots in the hot surroundings of the flames. Once they approached, people came forward to formally greet Tahan, while she, in turn, came over to greet the elders. Scott felt a little self-conscious, and blended into the background, fumbling with the leather straps of the sack.