“We will be grateful for his help, but only if there is no risk to his people. Weather here is clear and cold, -60°. If they do fly in, it should be soon. Shall I repeat?”
“No, I heard you. Vanya, I love you.”
“I love you.”
His voice faded out. Bruce tried to renew the contact, but it had vanished.
Katya turned and embraced Carter. “Oh, he is alive, alive!”
“Isn’t it wonderful,” Carter laughed. “Wonderful.”
Al looked around at a ring of intent faces. “Let’s go talk in your office for a minute, Katerina.”
When she looked at the clock on her wall, she realised it had been less than ten minutes since Roger had come running down the corridor. A little absently, she wondered what had happened to Will and Jeanne.
“It feels so strange. Like a dream, you know?”
“I know. I’m really happy for you, Katerina.”
“A drink! Would you like some brandy?” she asked brightly.
“Love one — a little one. Thanks. I shouldn’t even have this one if I’m going to be flying in the morning. Look, Katerina. We’ll get the Otter ready tonight, and we’ll leave first thing tomorrow. Promise me one thing.”
“Yes, of course.”
“Don’t get your hopes too high. I may not be able to get there. Or I could get there and not be able to land. I’ll do everything I can. But it may not be enough.”
She put her hand on his. “I understand. I understand.”
It was almost midnight when Al and Carter went to Hugh’s room, which was quiet and chilly after the noisy bull session they had just left in the lounge. Hugh, looking better than he had in weeks, sat up in his battered swivel chair. He smiled at Al.
“Dicey business, this flight,” he said. “How d’you plan to get there and back?”
“Varenkov says they’ve got plenty of JP4 in one of their storage huts, so we should be able to refuel. Just in case we can’t, I’ll take six or seven drums along in the passenger compartment.”
“Fair enough. Is the Otter up to a flight like this?”
“Yeah. But I’m going to need a lot of JATO bottles. At 3,500 metres, the Otter takes off like a crippled brick.”
“Okay,” said Carter. “What can we do to help you get back?”
“Keep the TACAN switched on, and pray that I can pick it up. And set up some signal fires along the airstrip. We’ll be coming back at night, almost for sure.”
“You’ll need at least a couple of the chaps to help you,” Hugh said. “Any preferences?”
“I’d rather do it alone, Hugh.”
“Out of the question.”
“Then just one. No more.”
“It ought to be a scientist,” Hugh said. “This may be the last trip we make over the continent; pity to overlook the opportunity.”
Al laughed. “With friends like you. the scientists don’t need enemies. All right. Steve again?”
“I’d prefer Will,” Hugh said. “He’ll understand what the ice is doing.”
“Jeanne’s not going to like that.”
“No doubt. Well, he’ll jump at the chance. Go and ask him. Anything else?”
Al shook his head slowly.
“Good. For heaven’s sake, get some sleep and leave the mechanics in peace tonight.”
Will and Jeanne were sitting in their cubicle, talking quietly, when Al knocked on the door, opened it and walked in.
“Hi. Will, you want to go to Vostok?” They both gaped at him. “Hugh said you’d love to.”
“Good God,” Will muttered. “Hadn’t thought about it — other things on my mind. It’d be great fun, but—” He looked questioningly at Jeanne.
“Don’t ask me to make up your mind for you,” she said firmly. “I know that old male trick.”
Will spluttered with laughter and kissed her. Then he looked up at Al. “What time?”
“About eight-thirty. Sunrise will be just before nine, and we’ll need all the daylight we can get.”
When Al was gone, Jeanne reached out and touched Will’s face with both her hands. “You bloody bugger, you’d better come back alive if you know what’s good for you.” She pressed her fingertips into his cheekbones and kissed him hard.
The hangar faced Grid South, so that its doors would be in the lee of the prevailing winds off the continent. When the doors groaned open the next morning, the sky was a wild array of reds and oranges that turned the surface of Laputa to a glowing ochre. There was steady 10 k.p.h. breeze from Grid North-West and some drift across the ski-way. Floodlights illuminated the mouth of the hangar, where the Otter was being winched out.
“Looks like good weather,” Will yawned. “We’re in luck.”
Al grunted. When the plane finally stood outside the hangar and the doors shut behind them, he studied the dawn sky for a long minute. Then he handed Will a clipboard.
“Let’s go through the starting procedure, okay?”
Will stared at him. “You must know it better than you know your name.”
“Yeah, well. This is no time to forget something.” Al sounded embarrassed.
“Good enough; glad to oblige.” Will snapped on an overhead light, coughed, and recited:
“Parking brake.”
“On.”
“Pilot’s static selector.”
“Normal.”
“Radio and electrical equipment.”
“Off.”
“Circuit breakers.”
“In.”
As the checkout went on, Will felt a sting of anxiety. Was Al losing his nerve? He pushed the thought out of his mind by concentrating on the list. It seemed to take a long time to reach the last item.
“That’s it.” Will looked expectantly at Al, who nodded and took a deep breath.
“Okay, let’s see if this thing wants to go.” Al dry-motored the right engine for five seconds. Then he waited for a minute until the battery was warm enough to permit starting. He held the start switch at RIGHT and watched the oil pressure slowly rise. When gas generator speed had stabilised, he moved the engine fuel lever to ON. The engine accelerated to a normal idle; Al released the start switch. Oil pressure steadied and the CAUTION light went out. An ice fog began to gather around the aircraft.
He repeated the procedure for the left engine, checking to make sure he had forgotten nothing. Warm air began to flow into the flight compartment. Will watched Al, trying not to seem obvious about it.
The Otter taxied out on to the ski-way. Someone up in the dome waved to them; Al waved back. The plane accelerated between the long rows of empty fuel drums, tilted and took off. Al set a course on Grid 50° and lit a cigar.
“Something the matter?”
“Yeah. I’m scared. Kind of late to develop fear of flying.”
“Do you know something I don’t know?” Will asked.
Al laughed. “It’ll be okay. I didn’t get much sleep last night — makes me a little slow, but I’ll be all right.” He shook his head. “It hasn’t been a good year for old Antarctic fliers.”
He looked out to the left: the first light was glowing on the peaks of the Queen Maud Range, surprisingly far away. “Hey, we really have moved, haven’t we?”
“You’re right.” Will glanced down, but the Shelf was still too dark to be seen clearly. “Laputa must be getting close to the Ridge.”
“Guess so.” The Ridge was a range of submarine hills that divided the Ross Sea into two relatively deep basins beneath the Shelf; in places the Shelf was grounded on it. Will had studied the effects of that grounding during his first summer at Shacktown, three years before.
Neither man spoke for some time. Dawn broke, and the sun began its brief traverse along the Grid South horizon. The surface of the Shelf seemed unusually rough in the low-angled light; even small sastrugi threw long shadows, and crevasse fields looked grotesquely sharp. The sky was clear, but long streamers of cloud flew from the mountains across the broken islands of the Shelf.