Eternity Base

Chapter 10

Sammy’s first glimpse of Aurora Glacier Station confirmed what she had expected. The large, squat, boxy building looked more like several trailer homes sealed together than a research station. The bright red building sat on the ice, several hundred yards from the base of Mount Erebus; just to the right a cluster of antennas was tied off to a tower. A colorful banner reading “Our Earth” was strung along the front. Aurora was located six miles from McMurdo Station.

It had taken the tractor almost forty-five minutes to get them off the ice shelf and here to the station. They pulled up in front with a clatter, and a couple of people stepped out of the building to greet them. As Devlin did the introductions, Sammy could see Riley hanging back. His camouflage cold-weather suit contrasted with the bright outfits of the station personnel, and their lackluster handshakes on meeting Riley were a predictable reaction.

“Let’s get our equipment indoors,” Devlin ordered.

Sammy helped Riley haul his duffel bag inside. They were directed down a short corridor and into a small room containing three sets of bunk beds and not much else. Riley dumped his gear onto one bed and went back out to help Conner’s crew with the camera and radio gear.

Sammy stood with Devlin, Conner, and Swenson in the mess hall/ meeting room as Devlin briefed a skinny, bearded man on their mission to find Eternity Base. Devlin had introduced him as Peter McCabe, Our Earth’s foremost Antarctic expert. When Conner showed him the faxed photocopy of the picture, McCabe sat down at the table and looked at it for a long time.

“This looks familiar. It’s rare that you have three nunataks that close to one another.” He pulled out a large chart. “Show me again where you think this place might be based on the air time.”

“Two hours by C-130 comes to roughly five hundred miles.” Devlin traced a half arc around McMurdo Station.

“It’s not to the west,” McCabe announced firmly. ‘That would put it very close to the French station there, and I’ve been in that area quite a bit lately so I’d certainly recognize these peaks if they were there.”

He stared at the map, his eyes boring in as if he could see the actual terrain by just looking at the two dimensional paper. Sammy took the opportunity to glance over at Riley, who had just joined the group. He seemed unconcerned about the whole situation. Ever since their conversation at the airport, he had been very quiet, talking only when directly questioned. Sammy had spent most of their many hours in the air sleeping and recovering from her ordeal.

McCabe turned the map around and placed the photo on it. He tapped a spot on the far side of the Ross Sea. “It’s here. I’d be willing to bet that middle peak is Mount Grace. The one on the right is McKinley Peak. The lower one on the left must be this one that has no name.”

Devlin shook his head. “Are you sure? I’d have thought they’d put the base farther south.” He pointed at the map. “Down here along the Shackleton coast, perhaps.”

McCabe looked up. “No. That’s Mount Grace. I knew I’d seen that silhouette before. To the south of it is the glacier where they launched the Byrd Land South Pole traverse in ‘60. When you fly out in that direction you put the glacier on the right and McKinley on your left. Then it’s open ice until you hit the Executive Committee Mountain Range.”

Conner spoke for the first time. “How soon can we take off again?” she asked Swenson.

The pilot was chewing on the end of his bushy mustache. “Ah, well, missy, the plane, it can take off right now. The problem is the pilot. I just put in ten nonstop hours and I could use a couple of hours to rest. How about in four hours?”

Sammy could tell that Conner wasn’t very happy about the delay. She half expected her sister to order the pilot to take off immediately. But Conner sighed and looked around the table. “All right. It’s presently three-fifteen local time here. We take off at seven-fifteen. The—”

“What about darkness?” Lallo interrupted. “We won’t be able to find the place in the dark.”

Devlin laughed. “There is no night in the summer down here. The sun gets a little lower on the horizon, but it never sets.”

“As I said,” Conner continued, “I want everyone gathered in this room ready to go at six. That will give us plenty of time to make it down to the plane and be in the air at seven-fifteen. Are there any questions?” she asked.

Riley leaned forward in his chair. “I’d like about thirty minutes to give a little class on how to operate in the cold — particularly how to properly wear your clothing and about cold-weather injuries.”

Conner frowned and looked at her watch. “I have to do a transmission back to Atlanta in twenty minutes. I need to get ready to do that, and Vickers has to set up his equipment. Then we all need to get a nap, because it might be our last opportunity to sleep for several days. I really don’t see the need for it anyway. We’re going to be inside the plane.”

“As long as things work out, you’ll be inside the plane,” Riley replied. “But if things go to crap, you’re going to be on the ice.”

“Devlin will be with the party, so we’ll be able to draw on his experience,” Conner countered.

Devlin seemed amused by Riley’s comments. “Have you been to Antarctica before, Mr. Riley?” he asked.

“No.”

Devlin’s lips parted. “Ah. Well, then, what background are you drawing upon for all this information you wish to impart?”

Riley looked him in the eye. “I spent some time in the Special Forces, and we did a lot of work in winter environments. I’ve been above the Arctic Circle in Norway and Alaska on operations, and I’ve done quite a bit of work in mountainous regions including the Rockies and the Alps.”

Devlin shook his head. “None of that really compares to what you face down here.”

Riley shrugged, but his voice was sharp. “It’s cold, right? There’s a lot of ice and snow, right?” Sammy felt sorry for Riley; she’d dragged him into this when he probably had no desire to even be here.

Devlin spoke as if to a child. “Yes, but it’s much colder here, and there’s more snow and ice. The terrain is also very unique. I’m not sure that Norway can compare—”

“All the more reason to know what you’re doing.” Riley held up a hand. “But you’re the expert.” He looked over at Sammy. “I’m going to get some sleep. I’ll see you all at six.”

Riley left the conference room and reappeared almost immediately, his duffel bag over his shoulder. He headed toward the door leading outside.

“Where are you going?” Conner asked.

“I’m going to sleep outside. I’ll be on the lee side of the building when you want me.” With that he stepped outside and the door slammed shut behind him.

“You brought a weird man with you, Sammy,” was Conner’s only comment before turning to her crew and giving some more instructions.

Sammy tugged on her parka and went outside after Riley. She found him on the far side of the building, digging in the snow. He briefly glanced up at her, but she said nothing, watching his actions.

After completing a slit in the snow, he removed the bungee cord from around an insulated sleeping pad and laid the pad in the bottom of the trench. He unscrewed the valve on the top corner and the pad quickly expanded to full size — a foot and a half wide by six feet long and about an inch and a half thick.

Then he pulled his sleeping bag out of a stuffed sack, released the cinches, and unrolled the bag. He stretched a poncho across the top of the trench and secured the ends with snow, leaving an opening just large enough to crawl into. All done, Riley put the shovel down in the hole and put his bag in a place he had dug out near the head.

“Why are you sleeping out here?” Sammy finally asked, unable to restrain her curiosity.

Riley looked up at her. “I hate sleeping that close to a bunch of people. I’m a very light sleeper, and the slightest noise wakes me up.” He gave the tiniest hint of a smile. “Hell, tell the nature lovers in there that I’m just loving nature.”

“What’s that?” Sammy asked as he started to slip into a thin bag.

“It’s a vapor barrier, or VB, liner that goes inside the sleeping bag,” Riley explained. “The liner keeps my perspiration inside it. Makes for a damp sleep, but it’s better for me to be damp than the bag to be. I can dry out. I might not be in circumstances where I can dry out the bag. And a wet sleeping bag will kill you here.”

He proceeded to slide all the way into the trench until the only thing showing was his face. Sammy leaned over. “I appreciate your help.”

Riley nodded. “No problem.”

“I’m sorry my sister isn’t being very nice.”

Riley closed his eyes. “You’re not responsible for her, Sammy. She’s got a job to do.”

She turned back toward the warmth of the station. “Have a good sleep.”

“You too.” Riley’s muffled voice floated out of the trench in the snow.

“You all set, Ms. Young? I’ve got a clear bounce back from the satellite.” Vickers did a last check on his equipment.

“Yes.” Conner pulled a 3.5-inch diskette with red markings on it from her computer and handed it to him. He slipped it into what looked like an external disk drive for a computer, except it was connected to his satellite communications (SATCOM) transmitter/receiver. The transmitter in turn was hooked — by way of a twenty-five-foot cable snaking out the cracked open window — to the small dish antenna he had placed outside in the snow, oriented at the proper azimuth and elevation to hit the designated satellite.

Vickers checked his watch. At exactly 0600 Greenwich mean, he hit the send key. The disk whirred as its information was relayed to the transmitter and then sent out. After five seconds it stopped.

“All done. We have about nine minutes before the receive.” Vickers was already at work on the small keyboard built into the radio, preparing it for the incoming message.

Conner wondered how Riley was doing out in the snow. He was a strange man. Devlin had come to her and told her it was crazy for Riley to be outside, but Conner figured that Riley had made his bed, literally, and now he had to sleep in it. Besides, she wasn’t responsible for him, Sammy was.

At ten minutes after the hour the disk whirred again — this time for less than two seconds. Vickers removed the disk and handed it to Conner, then went outside to retrieve the dish.

Conner took the disk and slid it into her laptop. She entered the appropriate program, and the screen glowed:

Conner punched in her personal code and hit the enter key. The disk whirred, the screen cleared, then the message from Atlanta was displayed.

Conner hadn’t really expected anything. She dumped the message into the hard drive memory and shut down the computer. Time to get some rest before the long “night” ahead. She hoped her sister was already asleep. She didn’t particularly want to talk to her now.

She entered the women’s bunk room and wasn’t surprised to see Sammy sitting on her bunk, wide awake. It was the first time they’d been alone since she’d shown up in New Zealand. Conner ignored her and stretched out on another bed, fully clothed.

“Are you having fun?” Sammy asked.

Conner turned her head. “What do you mean by that?”

“I show up in New Zealand and I find you in bed with someone. I tell you that my life was threatened and that I killed somebody. And your reaction is basically wondering how big a story it will be.”

Conner looked back up at the ceiling. “Come on, Sammy. I’m sorry about what happened to you in St. Louis. There’s nothing I can do about it now. Getting this story is as important to you as it is to me.”

“Is that why you’re screwing Devlin… ‘cause he can help you get the story?”

Conner lifted herself up on an elbow. “Listen. Who I sleep with is—”

The door burst open and Riley stood there. “The mess hall, now!” He was gone as quickly as he’d come.

Conner and Sammy scrambled out of bed and rushed to the mess hall to find Riley leaning over an unconscious Swenson. The pilot was slumped in a chair, his clothes covered with melting ice and snow.

“What happened?” Conner asked.

“I found him outside, lying in the snow.” Riley was checking the pilot’s bare hands for frostbite. “Another five minutes and he’d have frozen to death.”

“How’d you find him?” Sammy inquired.

“I heard a noise. Sounded like the main door slamming shut. I don’t know.” Riley shrugged. “Something just didn’t seem right, so I got up and checked.”

As Riley spoke, the other members of the team filed in until all were assembled.

“So what happened to him?” Conner wanted to know. “Did he fall and knock himself out?”

Riley shook his head. “I don’t think so.” He broke open a medical kit, pulled out some smelling salts, and waved them under Swenson’s nose. The pilot gagged briefly and then his eyes flickered open. He reached for his head and moaned. Conner stepped behind him for a closer look. Through the thinning hair on the back of Swenson’s head, a large purplish bruise was visible.

Conner moved in front of Swenson. “What happened?”

Swenson tried shaking his head, but the pain got the better of him and he held still. “Shit. I don’t know. I was going down the corridor to take a piss and someone whacked me on the back of the head. That’s all I remember.”

Eight sets of eyes met, then shifted uneasily from one to another. The silence lasted for almost a minute.

Riley looked at the other men. “Was anybody awake when Swenson left?”

All three men shook their heads. Riley turned to Conner. “When I came in, all three were in their beds and appeared to be sleeping. You two were in your room. The three people from Our Earth were all accounted for also.”

“That leaves you then, doesn’t it?” Devlin observed.

Riley shrugged. “Then it would have been pretty stupid of me to rescue him, wouldn’t it?”

Conner decided to take charge before things got out of control. “Are you able to fly?” she asked Swenson.

Swenson nodded carefully. “Aye. I don’t think I have any permanent damage.” He got up, a bit unsteady on his feet.

‘Then we leave now.” Conner turned to Vickers and Lallo. “Get your gear ready to go. We leave for the plane in fifteen minutes.”

After Conner’s crew left the room, Devlin turned to her. “What about whoever knocked him out? I don’t think it was chance that our pilot was attacked. Somebody is trying to stop us from getting to Eternity Base.”

“That’s why I want to leave right away,” Conner replied. “If we wait around here any longer, whoever it is will have a chance to do something else, like maybe sabotage the plane.”

“So we’re going to fly with a pilot who just got conked on the head?” Sammy asked.

“I don’t have time for this,” Conner said. “He said he can fly.”

“The odds are,” Riley said, “that we’ll be transporting our problem with us to Eternity Base — if we find it.”

“Once we find the base,” Conner declared, “it will be too late. We’ll have the story.” She pointed at Sammy. “It’s the same reason you came down here. The key to stopping these people is to find out who built the base.”

Sammy shook her head. “But whoever it is has to be pretty powerful to have been able to infiltrate your team so quickly.”

Conner looked her sister in the eye. “I don’t think whoever tried to kill Swenson is from my team.”

Sammy looked at Riley and then back at her sister. “Are you accusing Riley?”

“I’m not accusing anybody. I’m just being realistic,” Conner retorted.

Sammy bristled and Riley stepped between the two women with his hands raised. “Let’s chill out,” he suggested. “Conner’s right. We need to get to Eternity Base first. Standing around yacking isn’t going to do us any good.” He looked from one woman to the other. “All right?”

Sammy nodded. “All right.”

“All right,” Conner echoed.

Conner could hear Vickers humming the theme song from The Wizard of Oz as the plane picked up speed. Swenson pulled in the yoke and the heavily laden Cessna bounced a few times, then clawed into the air. Reaching sufficient altitude, the plane banked and headed for the search area.

Their course followed the edge of the Ross Ice Shelf to the east. Ross Island faded behind them, and after an hour Roosevelt Island appeared below and then slid to the rear. They slowly closed the distance to the Ford Mountain Range, looming up in front of them. As they approached the first mountains, Swenson increased power; the wings groped in the thin air for even more altitude until the Cessna had sufficient height to clear them.

The plane was as crowded with people and equipment as it had been on the flight from New Zealand. Conner, Kerns, and Riley were on the left side of the plane, one in front of the other; Vickers was in the copilot’s seat; and Devlin, Sammy, and Lallo behind Vickers on the right. They’d loaded all the camera equipment along with one backpack of survival gear for each person. If they found the base, Conner wanted to be prepared to stay and get her story.

Although the magnificence of the peaks that jutted out of the white impressed Conner, what struck her more was the sea of ice that swept the flanks of those mountains. It was hard to imagine an ice sheet almost two miles thick. Devlin had told her that the ice was so heavy it had forced most of the bedrock surface of Antarctica below sea level; if the ice were removed, the land, relieved of the pressure, would rise above sea level.

Swenson had piloted them over a glacier and through a pass, putting them on the opposite side of the mountain range. Now they flew along the southern edges, looking to their left, searching for the three mountains. Conner had taped the photocopy of the picture against the bulkhead above the left side window, and she and Devlin were scanning in that direction. As Devlin leaned over her right shoulder, she tried to ignore his close proximity, but his body was generating a warmth that was welcome in the frigidness of the plane. She wondered if Sammy was right: was she attracted to Devlin as a person, or because he could be of use to her at the moment — a way to Eternity Base, a warm body on a cold airplane.

Swenson flew straight up the middle of the mountain chain. The weather was remarkably clear, and the peaks seemed startlingly close. Conner felt as if she could reach a hand out the window and caress the rock. She glanced right at the map board on Devlin’s lap. He had their route marked on the plastic cover with a grease pencil.

“Everyone look carefully. McKinley should be coming up soon,” Devlin yelled. His words disappeared into the whine of the engines without any reply from the others.

“That’s McKinley,” Swenson shouted a short while later. He immediately banked to the left, and the nose of the aircraft settled on a northerly route.

Riley reached forward and tapped Devlin on the shoulder, gesturing for the map board. Devlin passed it back and Riley oriented himself, checking the map against the terrain features he could see below.

“Can we move to the right a little bit?” he called out to Swenson. Riley ignored Conner’s annoyed look. Taking her silence as assent, Swenson changed course slightly to the right.

Visibility was unrestricted, and far out to the front through a gap in the range, they could even see the ice pack on the coast. To the left and right, isolated mountaintops poked out of the white carpet of ice.

“There. That’s it,” Riley calmly announced, pointing. Three peaks, against a backdrop of other nunataks.

Conner looked up at the paper taped on the fuselage and then out again. She leaned forward and tapped Swenson on the shoulder. “There. We’re pretty close on the right azimuth.”

Conner leaned across to Devlin. “What do you think, Devlin?”

Riley broke in. “You have to consider the fact that the photo was taken from the ground. We’re up much higher. Ask Swenson to drop down and let’s see how they look.”

The pilot circled down until they were barely a hundred feet above the ice. He pointed the nose straight at the peaks, and all eight of the plane’s occupants stared ahead.

Conner was the first to break the silence. “That’s it. Lallo, get us a shot as we go in.”

The North Korean ambassador’s aide studied Loki’s latest report, which had been forwarded in response to his highlighting. This Antarctic thing was very strange. Loki had done a good job summarizing all the information available, but it raised more questions than it answered.

The aide rewrote the information for forwarding. Although there was nothing of apparent importance to his native country, one never knew when something that seemed irrelevant could prove useful. At the very least there was the possibility that the United States could be embarrassed if this secret base actually had been built. That was always good, particularly now.

“Patience, missy,” Swenson called over his shoulder. “We don’t want to be buckling our landing gear out here. It’s a long walk back.”

Conner ignored the missy comment and concentrated on the three peaks. Swenson was on his fourth pass over the floor of the basin, looking for a spot to land. Conner had no doubt that they were in the right place. It had to be. The peaks matched, and the basin was surrounded on three sides by mountains. The bowl was perhaps ten miles wide by twenty long, open to the south. If they could get down and match the azimuth on the picture with the mountains in the background, she knew they could get close. Very close.

The passes had revealed no sign of any structure, but that didn’t surprise Conner. The ice and snow would have covered the above-surface portions of Eternity Base many years ago.

“All right. I’ve got something that looks like it might work. Everyone make sure you’re buckled up.”

Conner’s hands clenched the back of Swenson’s seat as he slowly let out the yoke and reduced throttle. The ice crept up, closer and closer.

“Let’s be hoping there are no crevasses,” Swenson muttered. The skis touched and they were down — at least for the moment.

“Oh, shit!” Vickers yelled from the right front seat as they became airborne again, bouncing over a small ridge and then slamming into the ice once more.

The plane was shuddering, and the right wing tipped down as the ski hit a divot. They turned slightly right, then straightened. When the plane finally stopped, Conner’s fingers had made indentations in the imitation leather on the back of Swenson’s seat.

“Well, that was fun.” Swenson turned around. “What do you want to do for an encore, missy?”

Conner rubbed her hands to restart the circulation and looked about. “Can you taxi along the ice until we get on the right azimuth to line up the three peaks like in the photo?”

Swenson looked around outside the aircraft. “Well, I certainly can do that, but the ice might not allow it.” He looked at Devlin. “What do you think?”

Devlin licked his lips. “Actually the ice should be all right here. We’re on a pretty solid base. You have to worry about crevasses when you’re on a glacier, but we’re on the polar ice cap now. Should be all right.”

“Let’s do it,” Conner ordered.

‘To the right,” Riley said. Conner looked at him questioningly. “If you want to line them up, go to the right,” he repeated.

‘To the right,” Conner confirmed.

Swenson increased throttle and worked his pedals. The Cessna slithered along.

“Hold it,” Conner called out after three minutes of very slow moving. “What do you all think?”

They looked to the north.

“Yes.” Riley was the first to answer.

“Yes.” Devlin echoed him. The others said nothing.

“Let’s get skiing.” Riley unbuckled himself. He slapped Devlin on the shoulder. “Which do you want? North or south?”

Devlin slid to a halt and looked back over his shoulder. The plane didn’t look very far away, but he estimated he’d come at least four miles. He reached for the sonar emitter slung over his shoulder and pointed it down. As he pressed the trigger, he watched the small screen on the back. After five seconds he slid it back over his shoulder and continued onward.

Every thirty push-offs of his right ski, he halted and repeated the process. The skiing felt good, but Devlin was getting tired and he knew he’d be sore tomorrow. The skis were not true cross-country skis but rather a specially made hybrid that Our Earth used down here. A combination binding connected at the toe and rear. The rear binding could be unlocked for cross-country movement such as this, or locked for downhill.

Devlin had chosen to go north, so he had the mountains to his front. His course was centered on the middle peak ahead. It was very hard to judge distances, but he estimated that the mountains were only about four to five miles away. He sensed he was going slightly uphill as he continued on. The surface wasn’t as flat as it had appeared from the air, and he wondered how Swenson had managed to find such a smooth spot to land. Occasionally, Devlin crossed a low ridge of compressed ice and had to traverse his way up and over in order to stay on line.

Twenty-seven. Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine. Thirty. The echo just below the surface shocked Devlin, it was so unexpected. He blinked and stared at the sonar emitter screen for ten seconds. It was still there. Devlin looked around the immediate area. The surface ice was relatively even except for a six-foot ridge running at an angle across his front. There was no sign of anything man-made.

He pulled off his backpack, slid out one of the thin plastic poles with a flag attached, and stuck it in the ice. Then he began to ski, only ten paces now, trying to search out the dimensions of whatever was under the ice. He continued to receive a positive response as he approached the ridge.

Devlin traversed up the small incline and stood on top of the buckled ice. His flag was more than eighty yards away. This had to be the base. He noted an outcropping from the ice ridge about ten yards away and skied along the top to it. Snow had piled up, forming a block perhaps fifteen feet to a side and eight feet high. Devlin aimed the sonar into the snow pile. Positive response. There was something in there too.

Devlin looked to the south. His view of the plane was blocked by a large ridge he had crossed about a mile back. He secured the sonar over his shoulder and skied down off the ridge and back to his ruck. Throwing it over his shoulder, he set out to the south with long glides on the skis. He forgot about being tired.

Conner shivered. She considered asking Swenson to crank the engine and turn on the heat, but she held off. They had only so much fuel and they’d been on the ice now for more than an hour. The windows had fogged over from the breathing of the occupants, and she used her mitten to wipe a small hole in her porthole so she could peer out.

A figure appeared on the horizon, skiing toward the plane with smooth, powerful strides. She kept the glass clear and watched the bundled man come closer.

“One of them is back,” she announced.

Vickers swung open the side door and the wind swirled inside, removing what little body heat had built up in the plane. The skier stepped out of his bindings and passed the skis to Vickers, who slid them along the floor. The man stepped in and the door was shut behind.

“Anything?” Conner asked as the man slid down his parka hood. She recognized Riley.

“Nothing.” He slumped down in his seat and leaned back. “I went about eight miles out and took a slightly different route back and picked up nothing.”

There was a roar as Swenson started the engines. In a minute, welcome heat poured out of the vents, and the windows slowly started clearing.

“Let’s taxi north and pick up Devlin on his way back,” Conner suggested.

Swenson shook his head. “Uh-uh. I know where the runway is safe for take-off.” He pointed out the front window. “Right back the way we came. Plus there’s too many small ridges that way. We wouldn’t get far.”

“Besides,” Riley added, “we don’t know if Devlin is taking a straight route back. Even though it isn’t likely, we might just miss him.”

Conner sighed and resumed her vigil out the window. She didn’t like waiting. Swenson shut off the engines after five minutes, and the heat quickly dissipated out the skin of the plane.

Swenson turned in his seat, tapping the headset he wore. “I just got the weather report from McMurdo. It doesn’t sound encouraging. They only give another three to four hours max of good weather and then we’re going to get hit with high winds, which means very low visibility.”

Conner wondered what was taking Devlin so long. He should have been back a half hour ago according to the plan.

Twenty minutes later, Vickers called out. “I see him.”

Conner leaned over and looked out the opposite side porthole. Devlin was moving rapidly to the plane. They opened the door as he arrived, and he threw in his backpack, followed by the skis and himself.

“Anything?” Conner asked.

“Yes.”

She waited for an explanation, but Devlin was busy cleaning the snow off his boots and then shutting the door. “Well?”

Devlin removed his snow goggles and smiled at Conner “There’s something under the ice about three miles from here.” he said, “I checked it as much as I could and left a flag there. It’s pretty big, whatever it is — at least eighty yards long, maybe more. It’s either your base or a big flying saucer that got buried under the ice.”

Everyone in the plane looked at Conner expectantly, waiting for her instructions. Devlin accepted a cup of coffee from Vickers’s thermos and cradled it in his hands, absorbing the warmth.

“Can we land up there?” Conner asked him.

Devlin nodded. “I think there’s a good level area to the north of the spot. I couldn’t tell for sure because I didn’t ski over it, but I think it’s worth a look.” He looked forward toward Swenson. “It runs northwest-southeast.”

Swenson shook his head. “We’ve got bad weather coming. If we don’t head for home now, we may get stuck out here.”

Sammy spoke for the first time. “What happens if we’re stuck out here?”

Devlin shrugged. “We have our emergency gear, but it depends how long the weather stays bad. It could stay bad for a week, in which case it would be an awfully long time to be cooped up in this plane.”

“I don’t think staying here’s a good idea,” Riley threw in.

“What if we get into the base?” Conner said.

“What?” Devlin was confused.

“What if we get into Eternity Base? It would be out of the wind. They probably left supplies in there.”

Riley was shaking his head. “Even if what Devlin found is Eternity Base, he said it was all covered up. How are we going to get in?”

Devlin was considering the idea. “They had to have an access shaft, and actually I think I found it when I was checking out the dimensions. Something is covered with blown snow next to an ice ridge.”

“We’ve got shovels and pickaxes in the plane’s gear. Let’s give it a shot,” Conner argued.

“I don’t like it.” Riley shook his head. “If you want my opinion, we go back to Aurora Glacier and wait until we get good weather. We know where the place is now and can come back.”

Swenson agreed. “I don’t like the idea of staying here, missy. I think we ought to go back.”

Conner leaned forward in her seat. “We’re going to have to weather out this storm somewhere — either at Aurora Glacier or here.

If we stay here, at least we won’t get caught in the bad weather flying back. Plus, remember we’d still have that forty-five-minute tractor ride back to the station. I think landing up near the base site and trying to dig in is the better option.”

Time was the most precious commodity Conner had now. She made a command decision. “Let’s try to land near the site.”

The second landing had been smoother than the first, and the plane was now staked down three hundred yards to the north of the ice ridge. Next to the ridge itself, Sammy, Riley, and Vickers were hacking at the ice and snow on the protuberance while Kerns and Devlin swept away the loose debris with shovels. Conner and Lallo were capturing their actions and the surrounding terrain on film.

It was obvious that the object underneath this snow was man-made. The shape was too linear to have occurred naturally. Riley swung the pick, and a section of ice splintered off. His next swing almost broke his hand as the point bounced off something solid. With his gloves he began wiping away ice and snow, exposing metal.

“I’ve got something,” Riley yelled. The others gathered around and stared at his discovery. The metal was painted white, and the pick had gouged the smooth surface.

“Let’s clear it out,” Devlin said, dropping his pick and grabbing a shovel. Shoulder to shoulder, Riley and Devlin used the edges of their shovels to enlarge the clear space on the metal. Soon they had exposed a flat sheet of metal almost three yards wide by two high.

Devlin stepped back and looked. “This has to be some sort of surface shaft.”

“Where’s the door then?” Sammy asked.

‘There are four sides,” Riley replied as he began excavating around the corner to the right. Vickers joined him. Without a word, Devlin and Lallo started around the corner to the left.

As they dug, they actually were leveling the area around the shaft, making it flush with the surface of the ice on the non-ridge side. The wind had picked up and snow was beginning to lift and blow across the basin.

Riley worked smoothly, trying not to break into a sweat. As his body heat rose, he removed his parka and stuffed it into his rucksack. He advised the others do the same.

A yard from the edge, Riley discovered a seam in the metal. He scraped away the ice up and down the seam and then to the right. Gradually a door appeared. On the far right side he discovered a spoked metal wheel. Once the door was completely uncovered he stepped back. The rest of the party had gathered around.

“Do you think it will work?” Conner addressed the question to Devlin.

Devlin ran his hands along the seam. “I don’t know. It ought to. It shouldn’t have frozen up — the temperature here never gets above freezing so there isn’t any moisture. Let’s give it a try.”

Riley moved back as Devlin gripped the wheel and leaned into it. The metal didn’t budge.

“Here, let me try.” Vickers placed the handle of the pick through one of the spokes of the wheel and squatted down. Slowly he started to exert pressure upward.

“Watch out!” Riley yelled, just as the wooden handle broke. The free piece ricocheted off the door and hit Vickers in the head. Dazed, he fell back onto the ice.

“Damn.” Vickers sat there rubbing his head through the parka hood. “That hurts.”

Sammy found it darkly amusing to get this far and maybe not be able to get in. But what truly worried her was the weather. The sky was dark with clouds and the wind was really howling now, knifing through her clothes. They needed to get out of the wind, and there were only two choices: into the base or back to the plane.

She looked at Vickers again; something dark was seeping through the hood. “Shit,” Sammy muttered. “Stay down,” she ordered as Vickers tried standing up. She carefully pushed aside the big man’s hood. The inside was caked with blood that had already frozen. The gash from the wound wasn’t hard to find on his bald head. It was about three inches long but didn’t appear to be deep.

“What’s wrong?” Conner asked.

Without answering, Sammy opened the first aid kit attached to her rucksack and pulled out a sterile gauze pack. She quickly tore it open and then put her mittens back on before pressing the cloth against the cut. It immediately turned bright red.

“He got cut. It’s not deep, but scalp wounds bleed a lot because the blood vessels are right on the surface.” Sammy looked up. “We need to go back to the plane now and settle in. Hopefully this thing will blow over quickly.”

Swenson shook his head. “I don’t think so, mate. McMurdo says this is a big front. We may be stuck for days.”

Sammy took a deep, icy breath as she considered the situation. “All right.” She looked at Conner. “Here, you hold this and replace it every couple of minutes. Make sure you keep the pressure on. We need to stop the bleeding. There’s some more gauze in this pack here.”

She gestured to the men. “Let’s all get on this thing.” They grabbed hold of the wheel. “On my count of three, counterclockwise. Ready? One. Two. Three.” All leaned into the wheel and strained. “Again. One. Two. Three.” The second attempt was also a failure.

“All right. Take a break for a second.”

Riley looked at the wheel. “Let’s do it again, but let’s try it the other way — clockwise.”

The men reassumed their positions. Sammy coordinated their effort. “Ready? One. Two. Three.” With a loud screech the wheel moved ever so slightly. “Again. One. Two. Three.” More than nine hundred pounds of man and woman power leaned into the wheel again. It turned almost a full inch.

“Again.” Inch by inch, the wheel turned. After five minutes of struggle, Sammy estimated they had done one complete revolution, yet there was no indication that they’d unlocked the door.

They continued on, the wheel moving a little easier now. After another five minutes the wheel stopped and wouldn’t budge.

“I think we’ve gone as far as it goes,” Devlin said. “I’d say it opens inward. It makes sense. You want doors to open in down here because the outside could be blocked with snow.”

Riley examined the joints of the door. There was an overlap on the outside — another indication that the door opened inward. “All right. Stand back.”

Riley lay down with his back wedged against the ice, then he put his feet on the bottom of the door and pushed. Seeing what he was doing, Lallo and Swenson joined in, pushing on the sides with their arms. With a low creak, a small gap appeared on the right side near the wheel. As they kept up the pressure, the door slowly swung wider and wider, Riley scrambling along the ice to keep his leverage until finally the opening was wide enough for a person to slip through.

“Hold it!” Conner called out. She peered around the edge of the door. In the darkness she could just make out a metal landing and staircase. Eternity Base beckoned.

“Light her up,” she said to Lallo.

The cameraman pulled the cover off his camera rig. A bright light just over the lens came on. Conner slipped through the door, Lallo following, recording the entry. The stairs did a ninety-degree turn and then seemed to descend directly down. An open area next to the stairs had a pully system on top, suggesting that was how supplies were lowered. Shining the light down, they could make out wood planking about fifteen feet below. Something else was at the bottom of the stairs, but from their position they could spot only a vague outline.

Lallo leaned over the railing and froze as his light illuminated the scene. What a moment ago had been only a meaningless shape now assumed the form of a man. He was lying at the base of the stairs, face down, hands stretched out in front of him, almost an act of supplication.

Conner stumbled backward into Riley. “What’s wrong?” he asked as he kept her from falling.

“There’s someone down there!” she hissed.

Riley let go of her and walked forward, peering down. After a few seconds he gestured to her. “Come on. Everyone else stay put.”

Conner cautiously followed Riley down the metal steps. The form still hadn’t moved. When they reached the bottom, Riley shone his light on the body, revealing a figure clothed in army issue clothes. Three black holes punched a line across the back of the man’s jacket, surrounded by a red frame of blood. Riley knelt down and turned over the body. Sightless eyes peered out from a young face, forever frozen in the surprised grimace that must have come as the bullets slammed into his back.

Riley looked closely at the face of the corpse, marveling at the frozen preservation. He wondered how long the man had been dead. He didn’t realize he was thinking aloud until he heard Conner’s quiet reply. “He’s been dead for about twenty-five years.”