“We been talking things over, Al,” Gordon began. “And we all think something’s gotta be done about getting us outa here.”
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s nearly winter. Pretty soon we’ll be stuck in this shithole till October, maybe longer. Hugh said the other day we shouldn’t try for New Byrd, but he doesn’t have any other ideas. Anyways, we figure the old man’s just doin’ what Carter and Steve tell him to do. Like he isn’t really himself these days, you know?”
Al swigged his beer.
“So we figure it’s time we decided things for ourselves. The scientists wanna play with their toys, and if that means we gotta risk getting killed, they don’t give a shit.”
“Hear, hear,” said Simon.
“Anyways, what we wanna do is, go to Hugh and tell him he’s relieved of his job, and we’ll have a committee take over until we’re outa here. Uh, the first thing the committee would do, is authorise you to take the Otter to New Byrd and maybe to the Peninsula.”
Al smiled. “Uh-huh.”
“Colin says we’re due for another break in the weather. Maybe forty-eight hours, starting sometime tomorrow. You and Howie been keeping the Otter in good shape, right? Shit, it’s worth a try — we’d be crazy if we don’t give it a try when we got the chance.”
“Just about sure to be our last chance, too,” Simon added.
“Really!” Gordon agreed. “Now or never. It all depends on you, Al. Y’know, I bet you’re itching to fly again after bein’ holed up all this time, eh? All you gotta do is say you’ll go, and we’ll tell Hugh.”
There was a long silence while Al finished his beer.
“You’re talking to an old Navy man,” Al said with a burp. “But you’re suggesting I join in what amounts to a mutiny.”
“Now, just hold on—”
“You hold on, Gordon. Everybody here signed a contract with CARP, and that means everybody agreed to accept the leader CARP appointed. That’s Hugh, and Hugh said no flight to New Byrd.”
Gordon stood up and leaned across the desk; he loomed over Al like a tree. “Goddamn it, Al, this is life or death, not some picky little contract problem. We sure want you on our side, but if you don’t want to go along, we’ll fucking well make you go along.”
His eyes locked with Al’s for an instant. An instant later Al’s beer bottle flew past Gordon’s ear and shattered against the wall behind him. Gordon flinched and turned automatically; turning back, he found Al standing in front of the desk. Al slapped Gordon twice, the second time hard enough to knock him off balance. The Canadian crashed to the floor behind the desk.
Al turned slowly, looking coldly at each of the men. No one moved.
“The party’s over,” Al said, his voice thick with anger. “As far as I’m concerned, this meeting never happened. But if you guys pay any more attention to this… idiot, you’re as stupid as he is.” He jerked a contemptuous thumb at Simon, who looked almost as stunned as Gordon. “Get him on his feet.”
When Gordon was unsteadily upright again, Al looked up into his face. “Don’t ever threaten me again, Gord. Or anybody else.”
Gordon nodded slowly. He had bitten his tongue when Al slapped him, and blood glistened on his lips.
Al went through the door into the cold porch and down the steps to Tunnel D. Howie, after giving Gordon a glare of disgust, followed. One by one the others left quietly until Gordon and Simon were alone in the machine shop.
“Jeez,” Gordon mumbled, “the old fucker’s really fast.”
That evening, Will and Jeanne sat on the bed in the infirmary, watching Katerina light a cigarette.
“You are indeed pregnant. And you say conception was about three months ago?”
“Almost to the day,” Jeanne nodded. In her baggy pants and sweater she looked no different, but her face was a little fuller.
“Over twelve weeks. Why did you not tell me sooner?”
“I — didn’t think I’d have to. I thought we’d be back in New Zealand by now, and then — one thing led to another.” She looked embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I should have, I know.”
“You realise we are likely to be here until perhaps October or November, on short rations.”
“Yes.”
“Under the circumstances, I recommend you have an abortion. You have already endangered yourself enough. There is no need—”
“I understand, Katerina. But I’m not having one.”
“Ah. Why do you decide this?”
“Well, I sort of like being pregnant. I feel really super, at least now. And I’m dying to see what the baby will be like.”
“Ach, that is absurd and trivial. You endanger yourself and everyone else, including the foetus.”
Jeanne laughed. “After all we’ve gone through, we’re not going to be wrecked by a little baby, are we?”
Katerina rubbed her face tiredly, put out her cigarette, and looked thoughtfully at Jeanne and Will. The girl was obviously the stronger of the two, though perhaps she didn’t realise it; Will had obviously known of her pregnancy for some time, yet they hadn’t come to Katerina until Jeanne had decided to. Despite the childish flippancy in her remarks, Jeanne was a tough young woman who knew her own mind.
“I think you are making a mistake, but I will do all I can to, to — shrink the mistake. We must work out a diet for you, and exercise plans, and I would like you to come and see me twice a week at least.”
“Whatever you say,” Jeanne grinned, and Katerina smiled back.
Someone came running down the corridor from the lounge, his big, booted feet making the floor shake. Roger Wykstra swung open the door, so hard that it struck Will’s shoulder a painful blow. Roger ignored Will’s surprised protest.
“Katerina — we got contact with Vostok. Your husband wants to talk to you.”
Chapter 8 – Vostok
The lounge, mess hall and kitchen were deserted; everyone had headed for the radio shack as soon as they heard the news. Roger almost had to force a path for Katerina through the crowd.
Carter Benson and Al Neal were standing by the transmitter, firing questions which Bruce relayed. The answers were faint but clear, in heavily accented English. Bruce broke off when he saw Katerina.
“Here’s your wife,” he said into the mike. Then, to her: “You know how to use this?”
“Yes, yes.” She held the mike tightly. “Ivan? Vanya?”
“Hello, Katya,” he replied in Russian.
“Oh, it’s so good to hear you! Is everyone safe?”
There was a static filled pause. “I don’t know. I was just telling your friends — most of the station was evacuated by tractor two weeks before the catastrophe. We don’t know if they reached the coast, or what’s happened at Mirny. Five of us stayed behind to close down the station. They were going to fly us out, but no plane arrived.”
“Ah — and everyone there?”
“Vitali Alexeyevich and Nikolai Mikhailovich are dead. The magnetics lab collapsed, in the catastrophe. At least it was quick for them.”
“And yourself? Who is with you?”
“We have some frostbite. Yevgeni Pavovlich is the worst off; Kyril Matveivich is the healthiest. I’m in between. Your friends say they will try to fly here to get us, but I don’t think they should. Half the airstrip is gone. There are crevasses all around us.”
“Vanya — if there is a hope, they’ll do it. Oh, I — I don’t know what to say. I’m so happy I want to cry.”
“Katya, we’re losing your signal. Can you still hear me?”
“Yes, just barely. Do you need to say anything more to the leader here?”