SSSD - Help the staff

Spending the day with Marit and Birgitte is as simple as asking them if they need any help. The science team doesn’t even notice Ro’s absence. That’s in part because she’s supposed to be Signe’s responsibility, and Signe isn’t around, and part because they’re in a bit of a state. The storm has let up a few times, but only for a little while. Then it gets going again. They can’t get Outpost 51 on the radio and Signe and Alison aren’t answering their sat phone.

The Norwegians are spooked and Ro is too. Something’s gone wrong. Whether that something is as small as a broken sat phone or as large as… Ro doesn’t want to think about it. Nobody knows.

Niv and Golda are calling the shots and Julie and Linda are sequestered in their labs, probably doing their best to stay busy.

Ro does the same. She is a largely sensible person, certain decisions made in showers notwithstanding, and whatever’s going on with Alison is not something that Ro can control. That doesn’t take all the anxiety away, but it helps a little. She focuses on what she can do: helping out and… interacting with the two women who sort of took her virginity last night.

She quickly learns that Birgitte doesn’t want any help. The kitchen is her domain. She keeps it clean, handles procurement through Golda, does 100% of the cooking, and will not hesitate to brandish a ladle and swear at anyone who trespasses. Particularly Julie, who Ro learns, likes to snack.

Since Birgitte is a solo act, that makes Ro Marit’s sidekick. Marit performs a combination of skilled and unskilled labor, and having Ro as a helper lets her focus on more important things while Ro does the comparably easier stuff. She finds herself sweeping up snow in the garage while Marit ensures that the remaining vehicles are in working order.

Ro finds that Birgitte and Marit rather aggressively prioritize self-care.

They take frequent breaks to either drink spiked coffee or smoke, but oddly never both. They include Ro without reservation, and most of these breaks pass without a single word spoken. Ro is stoked to partake; it takes the edge off her anxiety about Alison. Even Marit and Birgitte show some nerves, although they both seem to have this dispassionate view of the matter, maybe because they’re more used to Antarctica. Or maybe it’s cultural.

Either way, Ro appreciates it.

After lunch, Marit grabs tools and a box of lightbulbs and goes to the door of Linda’s lab, where she knocks. Linda answers promptly and lets them in. She glances at Ro and hesitates, then obviously decides not to make an issue of it. Ro gets parts of what is said.

<The light is the problem,> Linda says, pointing to a fixture in the corner. As she does so, the light flickers madly.

Marit’s eye twitches. That’s not a bulb dying; that’s wiring. She sighs.

<That is not what is scheduled,> Marit says, and Ro loves the way that she can switch from surly to this bland, professional presentation like it’s nothing. <I must do the checklist for the secondary generator. That is mandatory.>

Ro reads between the lines. Marit schedules her days; she didn’t block off much time for this because she thought it would be a quick bulb switch. The reason for the misunderstanding has to be that she couldn’t assess the ticket herself because the lab is always locked. This is on Linda, who is in a pickle. It’s sad that such a sophisticated operation can be threatened by such a pedestrian problem, but she can’t work with that light going crazy, and she can’t work without it because two of the other lights have already failed. The lab is almost comically dim, like Dracula’s lair.

“I can fix it,” Ro volunteers.

The Norwegians look at her uncertainly.

“Look, it’s got to be the wires. There’s the outlets and the junction, and all those computers are working fine.” Linda has prepared the lab for visitors by covering the monitors and the refrigerators, but the glow is visible, and the computers would not be working at all if their power supply wasn’t good. “That’s old drywall. This place has lots of roof problems. There’s probably no rats here to like nibble it, but I’d guess we’ve shifted and something’s gotten squished or come loose. That’s fixable,” Ro says with a shrug. “I’d need a drywall saw. A stud finder. Insulated gloves, electrical tape, a stripper…” she trails off. “Can I just use your tools?”

“Yes,” Linda says before Marit can. She places a hand on Ro’s shoulder and smiles. “Yes, please. Thank you.”

“Ro. It’s Ro,” Ro reminds her.

“Ro,” Linda says, nodding.

“I did not know that you could do this,” Marit says in the hallway outside.

“You never asked,” Ro replies.

What is the look on Marit’s face? Respect? Ro’s not used to that.

“Thank you,” Marit says.

“You’re welcome,” Ro replies, blushing.

The Norwegians have very nice tools, much nicer than what Ro grew up watching her dad use. She gets what she needs and returns to the lab, where Linda is waiting. Linda stays at Ro’s side as she works.

The lab seems ordinary enough except for one thing: a sort of box in the center. It’s obvious that everything else has been moved back to give it space. It’s draped with heavy, opaque plastic and there’s yellow and black tape on the floor marking a square around it. Ro notices the way that Linda is careful never to cross that tape when she moves around the room.

<Linda. Why is your door open?> Niv asks from the hallway after Ro’s been working for about twenty minutes with Linda at her side, handing her tools.

<The girl is fixing my light,> Linda replies.

“We’re almost finished,” Ro tells her.

<Almost finished.>

<Come here please,> Niv says.

Linda gets down from the desk and goes to her. Ro steals a look over her shoulder to see them talking in hushed tones. She can’t hear any of it. After a moment, they walk away.

She’s alone in the lab. Her eyes are drawn to that box. It would be simple enough to peek under the plastic.

Peek?

Or keep working?