SSSD - On the ice

The Norwegians appear to approve of Alison’s decision to venture out. She quickly finds herself in a snowcat, sandwiched cozily between Signe and Julie. Julie is driving, and the cabin should be large enough to accommodate three women, but Signe is big. They’re all thoroughly bundled to handle the cold, so there’s no fun to be had in the close quarters.

The ice in bright sunlight is blinding, requiring them to wear special goggles that don’t look very cool. Alison doesn’t care. She doesn’t get a glimpse of a penguin, but she does get to see the sampling equipment in action.

She does not get to understand what’s going on because even though Signe and Julie barely seem to notice the cold, they work briskly and efficiently, and completely in Norwegian. Alison gets to hold things and hand them things, which they occasionally forget to ask for in English.

They’re at a site a long way from anything. It’s their third stop. Alison loves the view of icy cliffs to the west and takes a few steps away from the two scientists, who are bent over their tools, lost in the work. Alison flexes her hands in her mittens and gazes at the vast, open space. The air has an indescribable flavor, but also a lot of bite because of the cold. The snow is suspiciously shallow; just an inch or two, yet there are deep drifts nearby. Alison suspects this has to do with the high winds of the recent storm.

She pushes it aside with her boot to reveal the ice, which is bluish and cloudy. She squints, then kneels and pulls off her goggles. There’s something down there, but she can’t tell what it is. Of course, there’s going to be stuff in the ice; there’s nothing unusual about that.

But this ice is old. The ground they’re standing on wasn’t here five years ago; the cliff collapsed or something. This is ice that typically, you’d have to do lots of cutting and drilling to get at.

It’s just a dark shape about the length of her little finger, but sharp and jagged-looking. It’s probably nothing, but there’s always a chance that it could be like a prehistoric worm or something.

“Dr. Gretland,” she calls out without taking her eyes off the object.

“You can call me Julie,” Julie replies. “What is it?”

“There’s something here.”

Signe appears on Alison’s left and Julie on her right. They kneel to look for themselves. There’s a lengthy exchange in Norwegian. Alison senses excitement, but it’s muted. They aren’t freaking out or anything.

Signe hurries back to the tools as Julie uses her hands to brush away more snow, revealing another tiny speck under the ice. She smiles at the sight of it and says something to Signe, who is coming back with the cutting gear.

Alison steps away to give them space, and they swiftly cut out small blocks of ice containing the objects and pack them in a cooler, not that coolers are really necessary here.

“Ah!” Alison squawks in surprise as Signe smacks a hand down on her shoulder.

“Good,” Signe says. “Very good.”

Alison gives her two thumbs up.

“Glad to help,” she says.

And it’s back to work. Lunch is a protein bar and a drink of coffee from a thermos. These Norwegians are seriously into their work. There’s more liveliness in their chatter once that little orange cooler is bumping around in the cargo space. Alison has a feeling they’re talking about that find. There’s a hint of surreptitiousness in their dialogue, as though they’re talking about something taboo. Julie glances worriedly at Alison once, as though to reassure herself that Alison isn’t catching any of this.

Alison remembers those missing vials.

Not everyone at the Outpost is on the same page.

The snowcat lurches to a halt, the engine sputtering. After a moment, it dies. With only a slight frown, Julie attempts to restart it. She says something to Signe, who replies.

Alison takes deep breaths to control her rising anxiety as the two Norwegians get out and examine the engine. Julie shortly climbs back in to try to start it. She fails.

In moments, they’re all back in the cabin again. Signe uses the radio but gets no reply.

“Are we in trouble?” Alison asks.

Julie glances at Signe before she replies.

“No,” she says finally. “We will be missed and they will come to help us.”

They’re much too far from the Outpost to walk back.

“It will be unpleasant. We will not die,” Julie assures Alison. That is characteristically succinct. Alison needs a moment to reconcile herself to this. They’re going to be stuck in here for a while.

“Not unpleasant,” Signe counters, twisting to reach into the back. She comes back with a bottle of vodka.

Julie looks appalled and says something in Norwegian that sounds like scolding.

Signe replies dismissively, yet still seems to end on a question.

Julie blushes and looks away.

Alison just sits between them, at a loss. As one, Julie and Signe begin to unzip and unsnap their outer gear.

“Take this off,” Signe tells Alison, touching her parka.

“OK,” Alison agrees. A moment later the three of them are wrapped in a thick blanket. This is just a more efficient way to conserve heat as a group.

Well, Alison was content to stay in the background while work was going on. But she’s not about to just sit here, stranded, and listen to these two talk to each other in Norwegian. Or worse, not talk.

Should she regale them with tales of CCL?

Or ask about the ice samples?