Louise Legere looked up briefly from the computer printout. “You’re going to rack up quite a few frequent flyer miles on this trip.” The special features editor read the grueling itinerary with relish. “Depart Atlanta this evening at six, straight through to San Francisco. Depart San Francisco for Honolulu. Depart there for New Zealand. Hmm, you cross the international date line en route, so there goes one of your ten days. Arrive in Auckland, New Zealand, on Saturday evening at seven.” She slid the paper across the desk. “That’s the end of the commercial flights and my involvement. Your friends from Our Earth have to take care of you from there on out.”
“How much time in the air is that?” Conner asked.
Legere’s fingers flew over the numeric keypad on her computer. “Let’s see. Rounding everything off, you have five hours from here to San Fran. Another five to Hawaii. That’s ten. Ten from Hawaii to New Zealand. That’s twenty.”
Conner shook her head. “How about a longer layover in Hawaii? At least to let everyone get a night’s sleep.”
Legere didn’t even consider it. “My dear girl, you can sleep on the plane. Time is money, and your little trip is already burning more than it’s worth.”
Conner knew she shouldn’t have bothered asking. “When do I meet my crew?”
“This afternoon at one in conference room three,” she said coldly.
Conner wanted to get this meeting over with as quickly as possible. “When is the return flight?”
“You head for home on the fourth from New Zealand.”
“But if you add in the two days to go to Antarctica and back up to New Zealand, that only leaves me with four days to search for Eternity Base,” Conner protested.
“Mister Parker gave you ten days. I’ve given you ten days from leaving Atlanta until returning.”
Conner felt a small knot of panic form in her stomach. “I need more than four days.”
Legere wouldn’t negotiate. “No. Those crew members will be on special duty pay. Do you know how much that is per day? The commercial plane reservations are already made.
“Now, also, don’t forget your communication requirements. Your commo man knows about it, and he’ll have the frequencies and satellite information, but it’s your responsibility to make contact with us here on schedule. Everything on this trip is your responsibility. Do you understand?”
Conner looked into the face of the older woman, noting the lines around her eyes and the sharp red gash her lips made in the pinched face. “I understand.”
Legere slid a folder across the desk. “Here’s your authorization and tickets. Stop by Miss Suwon’s desk down in records for your background packet and personnel roster. I’ll see you when you get back.”
Conner picked up the folder and left the office. She took the elevator down to the basement where the large mainframe computer for SNN was housed along with its human servants. She found Miss Suwon seated in a large office that made Conner’s cubicle look tiny. A massive desk with four separate computer terminals on top dominated the room. A sophisticated laser printer in the corner of the room was spewing out a piece of paper every few seconds.
Miss Suwon was a young Asian woman with the petite figure that women from that part of the world seem to have stamped in their genes. She was dwarfed by all the electronics. Her hair was straight and long; cascading to her waist in a graceful line that even Conner had to envy. Suwon was dressed very well for someone in a basement office, and Conner wondered if maybe she had chosen the wrong job in this organization.
Suwon smiled as Conner came in the door. “Miss Young. I am glad to finally meet you.” She swiveled in her chair and frowned at the computer screen. “I do not yet have your roster — there have been two other crews requested this morning, and personnel is still trying to rework their schedule. I assure you that you will have a good crew and they will be at your meeting this afternoon.”
Miss Suwon passed over a bulging binder. “This was the best I could do on such short notice. I hope it will be helpful.”
Conner looked at the label on the cover: SNN/CONNER YOUNG/ ANTARCTICA/BACKGROUND DATA/25 NOVEMBER 1996. She flipped through, amazed at the amount of information it contained and how well organized it was. There were sections on the history of Antarctica, the weather, environment, exploration, political status — everything Conner could possibly need as background for a story.
“Thank you very much. I’ve heard so many good things about what you do here, but this is truly amazing.”
Miss Suwon smiled demurely. “I am glad to be of help. If you need anything else, please feel free to stop by.” She held out a 3.5-inch diskette. “This is all the information in the binder on disk so you can cut and paste on your laptop if you need to.” She then slid across several large brown envelopes. “These are maps of various scales of Antarctica, which might prove useful.”
With a final thanks, Conner made her way back to the news section.
The phone was ringing as Sammy approached her desk, still shivering from the motorcycle ride to work. “Records Center. Samantha Pintella.”
“It’s Conner. What’d you get?”
“Well, good morning to you too. I got nothing, to put it bluntly. I did a search using all the information you’d uncovered. As far as the classified d-base is concerned, Eternity Base never existed.
“What I did find backed up the cover stories for both B Company, 67th Engineers, and the aircrew. Both are listed as being in Vietnam working for MACV-SOG.”
“Shit,” Conner muttered. She wasted no time getting to the next angle of attack. “Sammy, I need those photos.”
“Why?” Sammy asked.
“Because if any of them have something in the background, especially a significant terrain feature, we might be able to triangulate the location from known features.” Conner was obviously looking at a map — Sammy could hear paper rustling in the background. “There’re a lot of mountains and glaciers down there. We might be able to recognize something in the photos.”
Sammy remembered the three peaks she’d noticed in the background of the group picture. “I put the folder back in the box and it’s on the loading dock. It might even be on the trailer and on the way to the Archives in Washington.”
“Could you check to see if it’s there at least? Sam, my job rides on this story. Please.”
Sammy sighed. “All right, all right. I’ll check. Hold on.”
Sammy put the down phone and headed for the back of the basement. She went up a ramp to the inside loading dock. There were twelve pallets of records sitting there. Sammy immediately saw that the one holding the 67th’s unit history was still in the same place. She retrieved the record and took it back to her desk.
“I’ve got it, but I can’t take the pictures, Conner. They’d hang me. Digging around in the computer is one thing. But taking documents from the Center is a direct violation of the rules.”
“I won’t use them on the air, Sammy. I promise.”
“No.” Her sister was making good money at SNN, but Sammy needed two more years of government service to get her minimum retirement pay. “There’s no way I’m removing these from the file.”
“How about a photocopy then?”
Sammy frowned. “Photocopy?”
“I’ll take anything I can get, Sam. Can you copy them and fax them to me right away?”
Sammy thought about it. There was a copying machine right near her desk. She could easily hide the copies under her shirt and go to a nearby store and fax them. With the originals still in the file, it wouldn’t be a direct violation of the rules. “The quality will be pretty crummy, you know. You promise not to use them on the air or even refer to them in a story?”