The Winter Over

The last was said in a whisper. A long moment passed before Vox’s voice cut through the silvery hiss.

“You are very brave to tell me this, vozlyublennaya . That you feel so bad so many years later confirms for me something I already knew—that you are a good person. That you are intelligent, thoughtful, and care about the people around you. You do not have to fear being wrong when you know this is the truth.”

The simple words pierced Cass, but rather than her emotions translating into tears, she felt suddenly lighter and more lucid than before. The muscles in her throat relaxed. “Thank you, Vox. Those words mean more than you’ll ever know.”

“Good, I am glad. I was afraid you would cry. I never know what to do when women cry. I try to tell jokes, but I only know two and they are both about physics. And are in Russian. And not very funny.”

She laughed, her voice shaky. “You’ll have to tell me them sometime.”

“You promise to laugh?”

“I promise.” She peeked down the hatchway and froze, thinking she’d seen a shadow slide through her field of vision. But there was nothing. “Thank you for offering to call McMurdo. But don’t do anything yet. If they don’t hear from us soon, they’ll send their own people out eventually.”

“You are sure?”

“Yes. But let’s keep our next date. If anything strange happens—stranger than what’s already occurred—I want to be able to get in touch with you.”

“Is not good enough, Blaze. We should stay in touch more often. If something happens to you, that is too much time to have passed. I will check every third day, yes? I will run up and down channels, to make sure you can reach me.”

“That takes time, Vox. Won’t you get in trouble?”

“My time is now my own,” Vox said. “Comrade Konstantinov is confined to his quarters after slipping in the dining hall and breaking his leg.”

“What happened?”

“He made the cook file a report that said the floor had not been cleaned properly, but we all know he tried to drink all the vodka on base in a night. Some stereotypes are true, you know. Besides, I would do it anyway just to feel a glow twice in my heart. Once for defying that pig of a man and again because I know I am keeping you safe.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “Thank you, Vox.”

“Believe me, it is my pleasure,” he said, then sobered. “Cass, be careful. Maybe you think you are wrong about this experiment. Perhaps you do not trust your own judgment. But, remember, there is always the chance that you are right. If so, you are only halfway through the winter. There are more dangers to come.”





CHAPTER THIRTY


“Bad luck is one thing,” Deb said, both palms pressed to the side of her head, as if holding in the contents. “But this is ridiculous. Jack, what is going on?”

“Deb, we’ve got problems, there’s no doubt. And they’ve all decided to roost at once, or nearly at once. But that doesn’t mean—”

“Bullshit. I’ve seen winters that were worked on a long leash and other crews that had their problems, but this is insane. No one has this kind of bad luck. This is intentional. This is sabotage.”

“Is that all you’re saying, Deb?”

She glanced to her left at Keene, but the psychologist kept his gaze trained on the manager. Her face paled, but remained resolute. “You know something. I don’t think you’re part of it, but you know something you’re not telling us. So, here’s your chance. Tell us.”

“Or what?”

“Or, as deputy manager, I’ll take the steps necessary to set this straight.”

A moment of thick tension held the room still. Hanratty sat motionless. Ayres stood near the door, ramrod straight and frowning. Taylor’s eyes flitted back and forth between him and Deb. Keene had dropped his gaze and was staring at his hands.

Just when it seemed to break the room, the strain went out of Hanratty’s face as if a valve had been released. “That won’t be necessary. You all deserve an explanation. Hell, I deserve an explanation.”

He looked at each of them enigmatically, as though waiting for one of them to speak. When no one did, he came around his desk and sat on the front of it, propping himself up with his hands gripping the edge.

“Historically, the purpose of the South Pole station has been to further scientific study in such a way as to benefit mankind, and the fields most often expected to deliver those benefits have been a blend of applied and hard disciplines. Astrophysics. Biology. Geology. Science with numbers and tests, theories and results.”

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