This was one of those times. Elise rolled over and tapped her clock. She’d slept three hours and sixteen minutes. She groaned. A new record. Glancing to her left, she checked the small field radio she was required to keep next to her bed to cover emergencies during her off-hours. All clear; it hadn’t squawked, beeped, or buzzed. Congrats, you woke up all on your own . She kicked the blanket to the floor, slipped out of bed, and got dressed in the dark, trying not to think about the exhaustion that would set in later . . . or the mental fog that came along with it.
Unfortunately, it didn’t matter how tired she was or would be. Communications was one of the few jobs at Shackleton that didn’t work toward a goal: she didn’t paint sheds, she didn’t record computer results, she didn’t fix busted pipes. Her job was to answer calls and patch through radio broadcasts for the same ten hours every day, day after day. She’d commiserated with Pete, who had a job like hers; it didn’t matter how hungover or tired you were, breakfast got served in the morning, lunch at noon, and dinner at night. Every day. Period.
She nodded wordlessly at the few people she passed on her way to her work cube. The base was a twenty-four-hour operation, so there was always someone around, haunting the halls, but no one who was awake now was interested in chatting. A few, suffering from long-eye, stared right past her. She didn’t take it personally, since they weren’t really there. For all intents and purposes, they didn’t see her and wouldn’t unless she said something. That was fine with her, so she floated past them like a ghost on her way to the admin offices.
Her prework ritual had boiled down to the same few motions: stop to grab a cup of coffee and fill her water bottle, tie her hair back to keep it from getting caught in the receiver’s earpiece, and slap the seat cushion where she’d be planted for the next four hours. Once the necessary items were out of the way, the coffee went on her right, the water bottle on the left, and her butt went in the chair. Ready, she faced front with a sigh.
The dashboard was dark.
Not a single light was on. For a split second, her memory and imagination imprinted a false set of blinking lights, but she squeezed her eyes shut and opened them. No lights.
She punched several of the call buttons to no effect, then lifted the receiver. The familiar tone was there, but when she tapped the space bar on her computer’s keyboard and checked her screen for the network signal, a red “X” covered the familiar connection icon.
Frowning, she pushed her chair back and crawled under her desk. A short stint at a corporate IT help desk had taught her to never be too proud to check the obvious: Was it plugged in? It was. And so was everything else. Dusting herself off, she rebooted the computer, turned the dashboard on and off, checked all her connections. Nothing changed.
Elise sat for a moment, thinking things through, then picked up the receiver and called her own room. The line rang a half-dozen times before she disconnected. So, internal comms was up, external was down.
She cleared her throat, picked up the receiver again, then dialed another internal number. It was answered on the second ring, the voice on the other end creaky but clear and awake.
“Jack?” she said. “It’s Elise. We’ve got a problem.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
“So the test continues?”
“Tests,” Cass corrected, trying to get comfortable and not really succeeding. It was a challenge to talk on a radio on one’s side while simultaneously hovering over the hatch to watch for eavesdroppers, all in subzero temperatures and wearing the equivalent of a spacesuit. Comfort wasn’t really in the cards. “Yesterday, the furnaces for the station shut down, so we lost heat for almost an hour. Just as people calmed down, the electricity went out.”
“Both were restored?” Vox asked.
“Yes, but not before there was a panic. Some people were hurt.”
“You have no backup systems? Redundant generators and so on?”
“Hanratty claims the backup was down as well. But just before the crew became hysterical, both were magically restored. Everyone started to relax and we all went back to our routines.” Cass shuddered. “Then, this morning, all communications went offline. Everything. Shortwave, satcom, you name it. Complete radio silence.”
“How is the crew taking it?”
“They’re on the verge of a collective nervous breakdown. Hanratty called for an all-hands meeting later today to explain what’s going on.”
“This is, how do you say, bullshit.”
“Yes,” Cass said as she rolled onto her belly and peered down the hatch. Nothing. Just the dim, white slice of ground below. “It’s all just the latest in one of Hanratty’s idiotic tests.”
“No one is questioning your manager about this?”
“They think he’s incompetent, not manipulative. I’ve privately asked a few people if they think he’s been doing these things to us intentionally, but no one wants to hear it.”
“It is more comforting to think your superior is stupid than evil,” Vox said. “It is a popular Russian attitude.”
“It scares me, though. If no one is willing to see what’s in front of their faces, then he can get away with anything he wants. It won’t be long before people disappearing is considered normal.”