Beneath the Ice (4 page)

“That’s something else that bothers me,” Dr.
James said. “What does the Pentagon want down here? The
International Antarctic Treaty of 1959 prohibits any military
action or bases.”

“Which is why a civilian is leading this
project,” Larimore said.

“It’s just like the military,” Dr. James
complained. “I’m at the bottom of the world and have been given
only the barest of information. If we’re leaders on this team, then
why don’t we have the whole story?”

“That’s why we’re meeting right now,” Perry
said. “I’m going to bring everyone up to speed, but it probably
won’t satisfy you. Right now, I know more about this project than
anyone in this room, and I can tell you: It’s not much.

“Six months ago,” Perry continued, “a
radarsat image of Lake Vostok was taken by NASA as well as another
aerogeophysical survey by aircraft. These have been done before,
but a change was noted.” He folded his arms. “As you know, we are
situated over an under-ice lake named for the Russian research
center many miles east of here. There are nearly eighty under-ice
lakes in Antarctica. Lake Vostok is, by far, the largest.”

“It’s roughly the size of Lake Ontario,” Dr.
James interjected.

“Was
about the size of Lake Ontario,” Perry corrected. “It’s
larger. It’s grown.”

“Not possible,” Dr. James
said with a dismissive wave. “Things move slowly in this
environment. The ice cap below us is moving at one centimeter per
day. That means that one year from today, our camp will be four
meters closer to the ocean. Four meters—
that’s all. Vostok could not have grown by any perceptible
amount since the last survey. Maybe it’s just a misinterpretation
of data.”

Perry shook his head. “NASA doesn’t think
so. The Pentagon doesn’t think so. The lake is 10 percent larger.
Three months ago, another survey was done, and the lake had changed
another 2 percent.”

“That would mean the ice above the lake is
melting,” Gwen said.

“And melting fast,” Jack said. “Relatively
speaking that is.”

“Are you suggesting that the Antarctic ice
cap is melting below our feet, Mr. Sachs?” Dr. James asked. “That’s
not possible, not in any time less than millions of years.” He
paused for a moment, shaking his head as if attempting to convince
himself. “It’s absurd. It can’t be.” He released a humorless
chuckle. “Of course, it would be bad if it were true—really
bad.”

“What do you mean?” Gleason asked.

“Studies have been done,” Griffin explained
as if speaking to a class of undergraduates. “There’s always
someone out there who can’t resist running a worst-case scenario
computer model. One study showed that if just the east ice sheet of
Antarctica were to melt, the world’s water level would rise two
hundred feet.”

“That can’t be good,” Jack said.

“Not good?” Griffin said. “A
two-hundred-foot rise in the ocean would destroy billions of
dollars of homes and buildings, displace millions of people, and
have unimaginable impact on ocean life. For example, you could kiss
all of Florida good-bye. Only divers would be able to visit Disney
World.”

“Is that what’s happening?” Sarah asked.
Perry could see the lines of concern crease her face.

“No one is saying that the ice cap is
melting, but something is going on. Our job is to find out
what.”

“That explains the secrecy,” Larimore added.
“Imagine what the media could do with that information. By the time
the press was finished, the world would believe the end was coming
next week.”

“So what are we supposed do?” Gwen said. “We
can’t monitor such changes from here. Such things are better done
from space.”

Perry started to answer when Griffin leapt
to his feet. “Wait a second.” He glanced around the room, looking
each person in the eye. “You can’t be serious.”

“Sit down, Griffin,” Gwen said. “He hasn’t
said what we’ll be doing.”

“Don’t be dense, Sis. Think.” He pointed
around the room. “Military specialist, construction experts,
and—this is the real giveaway—a robotics expert.” He spun to face
Perry. “You’re planning to puncture the ice sheet. You want us to
help you bore down to the lake.”

“That can’t be it, Griffin,” Gwen said.
“That’s insane.”

Perry said nothing. He stared at the
biologist.

“Oh no, you don’t,” she said. “I . . . I
won’t allow it. That water is pristine. It hasn’t seen the light of
day for four hundred thousand years. No one has figured out how to
study it without contaminating it.”

“I have,” Perry said.

“That explains all the specialized equipment
you made me bring,” Larimore said.

“Wait until you see what’s coming next
week,” Perry remarked.

Gwen was on her feet. “You’re not going to
do it. I won’t let you. We are not going down in history as the
ones who contaminated the largest, purest, most undefiled water on
the planet.” She began to pace. “We’ve found microbial life forms
beneath the ice. Who knows what might be living in the lake or how
it has changed over the centuries? The moment you touch that water
you could be dooming entire and yet unknown species to
extinction.”

“Didn’t I read somewhere that the Russians
bored into Lake Vostok?” Sarah asked.

“No, you didn’t,” Griffin said. “No one has
bored into the lake. The Russians stopped drilling a hundred meters
above the lake’s surface. To keep the hole from freezing over, the
idiots pumped the hole full of Freon and aviation fuel. There are
over sixty tons of toxic chemicals hovering over the lake. We don’t
need to repeat their error.”

“We’re not going to repeat anyone’s error,”
Perry said. “The environmental considerations have been factored
in. One reason you were chosen for this mission was your well-known
commitment to keeping Antarctica clean.”

“It’s already been defiled.” Griffin’s
expression hardened. “What you’re suggesting is sheer hubris. I
don’t plan on participating.”

“That goes for me, too,” Gwen said.

Perry paused, then said, “I assure you that
we will not contaminate the lake, but understand this: We are going
beneath the ice. You can help us, or you can leave on the plane.
But you have less than an hour to make up your mind.”

He watched them for a moment. He had feared
the twin scientists would respond this way. What really bothered
him, however, was the way they might respond when they heard the
rest of the story.

Chapter
2

Perry’s head pounded
as if a spiked ball
were bouncing around
inside his skull. He stepped into the camp’s central building. Jack
had dubbed the place Dome Sweet Dome, but everyone else called it
the Dome. He paused long enough to peel back his parka hood and
remove the dark goggles that protected his eyes from the cold,
wind, and ultraviolet light. He bent forward, rested his hands on
his knees, and took several long, deep breaths.

“I bet you thought you were in shape,” Jack
said. He sat with Gleason, three of the Sachs crew, and three of
the Seabees.

“This working at altitude is killing me,”
Perry confessed. “I feel like a man with one lung running a
marathon—uphill.”

“Should I tell you what you look like?” Jack
quipped.

“No need,” Perry said, then took several
more deep inhalations. “I’ve seen you after your thirty-minute
shift.” He stripped off his parka then walked to an empty wood
chair and plopped down.

Jack snickered.

“Your team is up, chuckles,” Perry said.
“We’ll talk about pain when you get back.”

Jack rose as did the others in the
commons.

Perry watched Jack slip on
his cold weather gear. Jack paused,
then
said, “Seriously, buddy, are you okay? Some people have
prob
lems with elevation. One of the navy
boys is down with altitude sickness. Gwen ordered him to bed and
put him on O-two.”

“I’m fine—just a headache and shortness of
breath. I’m adjusting. Another day and I’ll be playing soccer on
the ice.” Perry looked up at his friend and saw concerned eyes
studying him. “I’m fine, Jack. Just go out and see if you can match
what my team did.”

“Match? We’re holding back so you boys will
have something to do. We wouldn’t want you to feel left out.
Gleason is sitting this shift out. He has some reading to do.”

“No, I don’t,” Gleason shot back. “No one’s
going to accuse me of not carrying my own weight . . .” He trailed
off, catching Jack’s intent. “Of course, there is that report—”

“Knock it off,” Perry ordered. “I don’t need
a nursemaid. Now, get out there and get to work. The sooner the
Chamber is up, the sooner we can get down to business.”

Jack hesitated then nodded. A moment later,
he led Gleason and the others out into the icy wind.

For a few moments, Perry was alone in the
wide, concave room. He leaned his head back and stared at the dome
overhead. The ribbing of the geodesic structure made Perry feel as
if he had been swallowed whole by a massive, ancient creature.
Light fixtures had been screwed into supports, their electrical
cords tied into place by nylon straps. The light in the room was
stark and uninviting. He reminded himself that this place was home
for the next few weeks.

He had been many places in
the world, but this was by far the strangest. Outside, bits of ice
flew on a bed of rising wind—wind that bit the face and froze every
exhalation. Ice everywhere, yet, technically, Antarctica was the
driest place on earth. Very little precipitation fell at the bottom
of the world, but when it did, it remained as crystals of frozen
water. The image of the vast ice sheet filled his mind. He had seen
it in pictures, studied satellite
photos .
. . The starkness was almost frightening; the white
reflection almost painful. Cobalt blue sky bowed
overhead touching the ice softly on the horizon. It was beautiful
but ominous.

“Are you drinking water?” a voice asked.

Perry raised his aching
head and saw Gwen James seating herself on a nearby bench. The
modular bench, like all the furnishings, had been flown in when the
Dome and associated barracks were set up. Almost everything was
assembled on-site, everything but the building he was now in. It
had been airlifted by massive Sikorsky
helicopters and set in place as a single unit. The
cargo-crate dormitories had arrived in the same way. Very little
assembly was required. Griffin James had overseen the installation,
but Sachs
Engineering employees did the
work. The assembly team left three days prior to Perry’s arrival.
Perry had made sure a bonus check was waiting for each man upon his
return to the States.

“Yeah, I keep pouring it down,” Perry
replied.

“It’s one of the best ways to battle
altitude sickness. You should be drinking three or four quarts per
day. And your urine output should be copious and clear.”

“I don’t talk about urine output until the
second date,” Perry said, smiling. “I’m fine, but thanks for the
concern.”

Gwen and Griffin, despite their objections
to the project, had decided to stay. Perry was glad. It would have
been difficult to replace them on such short notice.

“The work is going okay?”

Perry nodded. It made his head hurt more.
“It’s grueling, but the Seabees are tough, and my men are used to
adverse conditions. The Chamber should be finished soon—two or
three days more, if the wind doesn’t get worse.”

“I’ll confess to being impressed,” Gwen
said, pushing back a strand of dark hair. “It’s a big structure,
and a handful of men are piecing it together in less than a
week.”

“That’s the advantage of
modular construction. All we have to do is match part
A
to part
B
and—voila!—instant
dome. Well, almost instant. Besides they’ve built this
before.”

“They have?”

“Three times. We did it as practice. Three
teams working in thirty-minute shifts. It’s almost second nature to
them.”

“Including the cold?”

Perry sat up and rubbed his eyes. “No, not
the cold. That was one thing we couldn’t duplicate. If we had had
time, if we weren’t racing the onset of Antarctic winter, we might
have trained on-site at altitude and in the cold. I did make them
wear gloves while working so they could get used to handling the
tools. They hated it.”

“I bet no one is complaining now.”

Perry laughed. “If they are, I haven’t heard
it.”

“You never will. The men respect you. That’s
easy enough to see. I doubt they’d dare disappoint you.”

“They’re good men, every one of them.”

The conversation lulled, then Gwen said, “I
suppose I should apologize for my behavior, and for my brother’s.
We’re . . . passionate about our science.”

“No apology needed,” Perry said. “You
expressed your opinion, and it was heard. We need you here. I’m
just sorry we didn’t get off to a good start.”

“It doesn’t matter now. Time can’t be
unwound.”

“Where is Dr. James?”

“In his quarters, reviewing what little
information we have on this area. He’s opinionated, gruff, and
often rude, but he is also brilliant.”

“He just needs to know that we are not the
bad guys. We’re cautious, and we’re good. Things will be done
right.”

“I hope so. You may be destroying something
very nearly perfect. Did you know, Mr. Sachs—”

“Please, call me Perry. I would be much more
comfortable.”

“Very well. Perry, did you know that
pollution has found its way down here? We’re only a few hundred
kilometers from the South Pole, yet we can find traces of human
pollution. The largest creature native to Antarctica is a fly, the
wingless midge, which grows to only twelve millimeters—less than
half an inch. Beyond that, there are microscopic animals such as
nematodes and tardigrades, but that’s it. A great deal of life
comes to Antarctica—penguins and sea lions, for instance—but they
are not native to the land.”