The Nexus Colony (12 page)

The door sealed, the engines began to rev, and the bulky aircraft started to move along the icy taxi-way into position for takeoff. The weather had turned clear and the wind speed had come down drastically even since the plane had landed. Ruger estimated it to be no more than five knots. A perfect day for flying, unlike the past twenty-four hours. A good window, and that was why they were wasting no time as the plane accelerated after completing its turn. In a matter of minutes, it was airborne and climbing at a steep rate. Ruger peaked at Grimes, and wasn’t surprised to see his squeamish friend had backed out of the conversation. Ruger hoped he didn’t embarrass himself and throw up all over that Almshouse fellow.

The whole stopover on the ground had been less than forty-five minutes, just enough time to take on some fuel while they loaded the cargo and supplies. Ruger thought it odd they didn’t stay a bit longer considering the flight from New Zealand had taken about eight hours. Whatever the hell was out there on the Mulock Glacier—or whatever they
thought
might be out there—it must be damn important to these guys, Ruger thought. Or more accurately, to somebody in the U.S. Government.

As the plane continued its steep climb, everybody just seemed to hang on to the webbing waiting for the plane to level off. The drone of the engines reverberated through the bulkheads. Hilliard Grimes had a brief attack of deja vue, and in the moment of its aftermath, he reminded himself once again just how much he hated flying. It wasn’t so much fear of being airborne as it was of the constant awareness that one is completely vulnerable and at the mercy of a rickety old airplane being battered around by the worst weather on the planet.

When the plane finally settled into a cruising altitude, Marshall Abbott motioned the three of them to gather around a small area where he had set up a makeshift desk on a wooden carton. Ruger noticed a lot of paperwork scattered on top that obviously came from the black attaché case at his feet.

“Sorry for the rather abrupt introduction,” Abbott apologized. “But we don’t have a lot of time to spare. We’ve got a good weather window and I want to take advantage of it while I’ve got it.” He was very regimented even in his speaking, Ruger also noticed.

Mike Ruger knew all too well what Abbott was talking about. Whether this man comprehended the magnitude of it though, Ruger would have to reserve judgment. This guy seemed to have it together, and if he had it together
that
much, Ruger wondered why the government even
wanted
a highly paid mountaineering guide along.

“I’m going have to wing it here…,” Abbott continued, hesitating.
So
, Ruger thought.
It’s just as I suspected. Allison and Hilly were added while you were en route.
“Mr. Ruger…”

“Mike.”

“…Mike. I guess we weren’t anticipating having this large a team.”

Ruger said, “Survival is the primary concern out here. The more people, the more security. What’s the difference anyway?”

Abbott looked up at Ruger, then at the other two. “I’ll be frank. We’ve got a security problem here.
That’s
the difference.”

“These people have clearances,” Ruger replied. It came out like he was defending his friends, which was probably closer to the fact than not. “So do I for that matter, or else we wouldn’t be working for NSF.”

“Your clearances are only
Confidential
,” Abbott responded.

“So what’s the point?” Ruger asked, starting to get annoyed along with everybody else.

Abbott didn’t back off. “The point is, Mr. Ruger, this is a Top Secret government project. It’s a matter of national security.”

Allison suddenly responded harshly, and it turned everybody’s head including Ruger’s. “Well, Mr. Marshall Abbott—
Marsh
—if it was all
that
top secret, they wouldn’t have sent little old
us
along, now, would they?”

Abbott looked at her with an expressionless face. “Do you people have any idea what we might be up against?” he asked.

Ruger responded, “This is Antarctica, Mr. Abbott. Do
you
have any idea what
you’re
up against?”

Abbott capitulated, leaning back in his seat. “We’re going to have to come to some sort of compromise here. I think that’s obvious. We’ve been thrown together by people ranking high above us. But I have my job. And you people have your job. Let’s just make certain we’ve got the priorities straight.”

Uncharacteristically, Grimes responded, “Nobody is even alluding to interfering with your job, Mr. Abbott. I’m a scientist and so is Dr. Bryson. We’ve no more of an idea why we’re here than Mike does. Except that we’ve obviously already been where
you
want to go. But we’re here nonetheless, aren’t we? Your…excuse me,
our
government has decided that. None of us. If you have any doubt about our compromising national security, then for God’s sake, turn this damn plane around and put us off!”

Why, Hilly,
Ruger thought.
I didn’t think you had it in you!

To everyone’s surprise, Abbott sat silent, scanning each of their faces. A few moments later, he said, “What do any of you know about the artifacts?”

It caught them by surprise. “Nothing,” Ruger responded. “Other than the fact that Hilly and I found them.”

“And some ridiculous rumors,” Grimes added. “Word around the station is that they’re supposed to be of alien origin.”

“Which I personally think is totally absurd,” Allison added.

“It’s not absurd, Dr. Bryson,” Abbott responded, casting a disconcerted glance.

“And that’s why
you’re
here, I presume,” Ruger said.

Abbott looked at him. “And that’s why we’re here. Yes. To find the source.”

For a moment, no one spoke. There merely stared at each other. The vibration of the engines hummed through the bulkheads, and Ruger could even feel it through his feet. Then the pitch of the engines changed, and Ruger felt the subtle change in direction, probably to move away from the downdrafts that were caused by the massive valleys of the Transantarctic Mountains.

Abbott continued, “Some people in our government are convinced of the validity of that.”

“Of what?” Grimes asked, interrupting.

Without answering, Abbott continued, “Our mission is to find the source…if one even exists…and either substantiate that the origin of the artifacts is from a source physically here, or that they did
not
come from here. It’s as simple as that. And I’m assuming that Dr. Bryson and Dr. Grimes here are going to help me establish that either way.”

“I don’t know what I can do to establish
that
,” Allison responded. “I’m a marine biologist.”

“Neither do I,” Grimes added.

“You’re scientists,” Abbott responded.

“So is Dr. Almshouse,” Grimes pointed out.

Leaning forward, Abbott replied, “Then I guess collectively all three of you should be able to put your heads together and help me find an answer.”

The exchange so far had given Marshall Abbott what he needed to know about the three of them. Abbott wanted to know if any of them could be pushed around. Ruger’s conduct was unquestionable.
This is one tough son-of-a-bitch
, Abbott thought. As far as the other two were concerned, a measure of their objectivity was about all he wanted to find out. Usually, the mention of anything related to extraterrestrial activity was enough to get a rise out of anyone, but people in the scientific world were different. Abbott wanted their gut perspective. It seemed Bryson and Grimes—and Ruger for that matter—all seemed to express disinterest and skepticism at the possibility that there might be alien implications. Good. He didn’t need romanticizers or fantisizers along. Things could get complicated enough if
The Visitors
chose to interact.

In a surprise gesture and mock signal of surrender, the smiling Abbott leaned forward and looked at each of them individually. “Welcome to the team,” he said. “We’ll all work together to accomplish the objective of the mission. That includes me. Now, if we can all go back to a first name basis, I think it would be a step in the right direction for all of us.”

The three of them held back for a moment, until finally Ruger nodded his head. “Just what in the hell
are
we up against? I think you know more than you’ve told us thus far.”

Abbott slowly nodded affirmatively. “Are any of you aware of…reports of unusual activity in the area?”

“No,” Ruger replied.

“Yes,” Allison responded, and they looked at her. “But I’m finding anything like that hard to believe. They said that Dr. Coughenour’s team out on the
Penguin Princess
…that’s our science vessel?…had some kind of weird experience. Just rumors, though.”

“What kind of weird experience,” Abbott asked, solemn.

“Something about them finding tropical fish in the trawling nets,” Allison replied.

Grimes shook his head ‘no’. He hadn’t heard about it.

Abbott leaned back and retrieved something from the attaché case. “There has been some recent activity,” Abbott said, “and…I just got an updated report right after we left New Zealand. I think maybe all three of you had better read it.”

Abbott handed the document to Ruger, and silently they huddled to read what was a summary report of some very strange events. Twelve in all. If they could even be believed.

“This is pure science fiction,” Grimes finally commented, shaking his head in amusement.

“This incident with the
Penguin Princess
is absolutely ridiculous!” Allison said, shaking her head and laughing. Ruger remained expressionless, sensing something unknown at the moment that none of them were seeing yet. He kept silent. Allison turned to Abbott and said, “You don’t really expect us to believe all of this, do you?”

Abbott reached and retrieved the document. He looked at Ruger who still remained expressionless. “My people in Washington are apparently concerned about these reports that have surfaced since the discovery of the artifacts.”

Ruger responded, “Are you trying to tell us that this report is tied in to the artifacts?”

“I guess that’s one of the things we’ve got to find out, Mike,” he replied.

Ruger responded, “I think we’d just better stick to the basics, Marsh. We’re going to have enough to deal with on
The Ice
without worrying about fairy tales.”

“Well,” Abbott responded, signaling at least a temporary end to the discussion. “Peter?” he called above the din of the engines, motioning for Almshouse to join them. The rest was up to him. Let the scientists sort out their skepticism.

Abbott got up when Almshouse arrived and offered his seat, which Almshouse immediately took. Abbott motioned for Ruger to follow him toward the forward area, obviously to converse with the other two members of Abbott’s team who were sitting forward on the web seats behind the flight deck. Halfway there, Abbott stopped and turned to face him.

Above the vibrating din of the bulkhead, certain that nobody else could hear, Abbott said to Ruger, “I’m deferring all survival logistics to your expertise, Mike. We’ve all just had a refresher crash course on Arctic survival. Tell us what we need to know. Al and I will see to it that everybody follows your orders. I’ve been stationed in the Arctic before, Mike. I know this place is even more dangerous than up there. I’m depending on you.” Ruger was a hard man to read, and Abbott hoped that he had found an ally.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Ruger responded. “I was beginning to wonder.” Ruger gestured toward Prall and Monroe who sat expressionless in the web seats.

“I’ll handle them,” Abbott replied. “You just do your job.”

As Abbott turned, Ruger extended his hand and stopped him. “What?” Abbott asked. When Ruger didn’t immediately respond, Abbott repeated, “What is it, Mike? We’ve no time for games here.”

Ruger sighed. Might as well tell him now. “I think I know the source.”

Abbott didn’t respond at first. “You
know
where it is, or you
think
you know where it is?”

“Yeah. I guess it’s more like that. I
think
I know where it is.”

“Why don’t we have that information already?” Abbott asked, visibly annoyed.

“Look,” Ruger replied. “I didn’t tell anybody. Didn’t think it was all that important at the time.”

“How far is it from where you found the artifacts?”

“Not far. Couple miles up the glacier,” Ruger said. “Right before we broke camp I took one more run up the valley. I found a crevasse…pretty wide one…I didn’t have a chance to go around it to get a look from the other side. But I think there may have been more of those things embedded in the wall.”

“More structural pieces?”

“I couldn’t tell. Might have just been more debris. I couldn’t get close enough.” While Abbott pondered, Ruger added, “I took some pictures but even when I analyzed the prints close up I couldn’t tell much.”

“You should have turned the negatives over to us, Mike.”

“What’s the difference?” Ruger replied. “If your people had determined they’re more of these structural pieces, I’d be taking you up there anyway. Right?”

Abbott didn’t respond. “Look, Marsh,” Ruger said. “I’m a mountaineering guide hacking out a living doing what I like to do best. I don’t have much interest in politics, hob-goblins, or even all this scientific research your government is coordinating out here. You know what I feel about this place, Marsh?”

“No. Tell me.”

“This is Antarctica. It’s a world apart from the rest of the planet. It’s an icy, forbidding land where the unchosen are left abandoned. This land is so unforgiving that it transcends even your wildest imagination.”

Abbott stood expressionless, listening.

“It’s the last terrestrial frontier, Marsh,” Ruger concluded. “When they destroy it, it’ll be gone at least until we humans die off. And for some unknown reason, God has compelled me…or maybe
condemned
would be a better word…to try to survive it. And that’s all I care about.”