Frozen Solid A Novel

48




THE SAT PHONE HUMMED, SIGNALING AN INCOMING CALL. MERRITT glanced at the door to her room one more time, making sure it was locked. She answered, said her name, waited.

“How copy?” Gerrin asked.

There was always garbage noise on the sat phone calls down here, sounds like wind blowing through canyons and gravel crunching. But she could understand him. “Clear.”

“We discussed the situation.”

“And?” Merritt asked. Before Gerrin could continue, there was a knock. “Who is it?” Merritt called.

“Hallie Leland. I need to talk to you. I tried your office, figured you would be here.” Merritt heard her try the locked door.

“Can this wait until the morning. I just got to sleep.”

“I think we should talk now.”

Merritt mouthed a silent curse, then whispered into the phone, “Make it quick. Someone’s at my door.”

Gerrin didn’t need much time for what he had to say.

She let Hallie in. “Are you catching something? You’re starting to look like the rest of us,” Merritt said. She had thrown a robe over her red long johns.

“Maybe the dreaded Pole cold. I’ll be okay.” She explained how she had obtained material from the women in the morgue and was culturing it in her lab.

Merritt flushed. “You didn’t notify me.”

“I didn’t want to put you on the spot.”

“So you’re running standard biochemical screens?”

“Yes.” Hallie explained the tests she’d set up. “Can you think of anything I missed?”

“Microbiology isn’t my field. How soon will we have results?”

“Tomorrow is my best guess. Is the winterover flyout happening?”

“Not unless the temperature goes up by about twenty degrees.”

“Is that likely?”

“It’s a weird time of year here, very unstable atmospheric conditions. So it could happen. I’d say fifty-fifty.”

“But there’s something else. Two things, actually.”

“What?”

“Vishnu’s dead.”

Setting up the biochemical tests had not been complicated. They were the kinds of things she had first done as an undergraduate in the microbio labs. The procedure was exacting and required strict attention, though. It also required biosecurity gear—such as it was here at the South Pole. Hooded Tyvek suit, booties, mask. And, though she would be working in a biosecure “glove box” made of quarter-inch, high-impact acrylic plastic, she put on surgical gloves as well.

It had required almost two hours of delicate and tedious work: inoculating a series of oxidase test slides, Enterotubes, and Oxi/Ferm tubes, securing them in incubators. She had discarded her security gear in biohazard containers, then ventilated and sterilized the lab.

Before leaving, she had gone to the freezer to check on the Vishnu sample. It had not grown since her last viewing. In fact, it looked dull brown and mushy, like a rotten apple.

“What the hell?” she had said. “Gods aren’t supposed to die.”

“Same thing that happened before,” Merritt said. “You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

“Done deal, then,” Merritt said, glancing at her sideways. “What a shame.”

“We have to get some more.”

Merritt looked up. “What?”

“I’ll dive again.”

“Is that a good idea? Not feeling well? And after what happened last time?”

Don’t dive sick: it was one of the first contraindications beginners learned. But that was under normal circumstances. Hallie waved Merritt’s concern off.

“I’ve done worse. And this is too important. I’ll use one of the station’s dry suits, and we will leak-test the hell out of it first. Do you think we could get Guillotte down to the dive shed at around four?”

“You’re sure about this?”

“This thing could have unimaginable potential. You know what Emily and Fida learned. There’s nothing more we can do with the bacterial cultures right now.”

“You’re right. Okay, go do what you need to—eat, drink, rest, whatever. I’ll collect Guillotte, and we’ll meet you in the shed at four.”

“I’ll be there.” Hallie could see that Merritt assumed they were through. “There’s something else I need to talk to you about.”

Merritt’s eyes narrowed. Hallie could hear her thinking, What now?

“It’s about Maynard Blaine.”

“Did that peabrain hit on you again?”

“No. But I made him tell me about Triage.”

Funny, Hallie thought. She looks like Blaine did when I told him. Merritt’s shock quickly changed to confusion. “About what?”

She recounted what she had learned from Blaine. “Did you know anything about this secret research he claimed to be doing?”

“Nothing.” Merritt was rubbing her hands as if trying to get something sticky off them. “NSF should never have done that without telling me. Damn them. Damn him. Blaine lied to my face.”

“Seems to have a knack. He lied to me, too,” Hallie said. “And probably to Emily.”

Merritt looked disgusted. “The bastard. I’ll try to sort this out. Maybe we’ll get comms back up. You can rest a bit. Sound good?”

“The rest part does,” Hallie said. “But there’s one more thing you need to know.”