the room, and charts labeled SEA ICE MAP and LANDING LOCATIONS were tacked to the remaining wall spaces. A young woman sat at the center of the desk eating a brownie and sipping from a quart-sized Nalgene water bottle. She turned around in her chair and smiled at Valena. “Hi, can I help you?”
“Yes, please. I understand that I can call people in a field camp from here.”
“Sure. Who do you need to call?”
“His name is Dan Lindemann. He’s somewhere in the Dry Valleys.”
“There are nine different events out in the Dry Valleys right now. Do you know which one?”
Valena’s brain suddenly felt tired. “No.”
“Is he the PI?”
“The principal investigator? I don’t think so.”
“What category of event, then?”
“As in …”
“Geology, glaciology, biology …”
“Glaciology.”
“Well, that narrows it down. Let’s see…” She hit a couple of keys on her computer and referred to a list. “He’s out on Clark Glacier with Naomi Bosch. Do you want me to get him on the radio for you?”
“Radio?”
Just then, a slightly garbled, static-ridden voice came inover a speaker. “Mac Ops, Mac Ops, this is Whiskey-218 on Mount Aurora, how read?”
“Excuse me a moment,” the woman told Valena, then leaned toward her microphone and keyed it. “Go ahead, 218.”
“Can you pass a message to the Boss at Fleet Ops? Over.”
“That’s affirmative, 218. Standing by to take your message. Over.”
“Message follows: Sorry, cannot make Black Island traverse. Over.”
“Let me read that back. Cannot make Black Island traverse. Is that correct?”
“Please emphasize my gratitude for the opportunity. I hate to miss it. Thanks for your help. Whiskey-218 clear.”
“Mac Ops clear.” The woman glanced at a clock. “Naomi’s event number is 1-299. They’re due to check in at eighteen hundred, but they’re a drilling camp, so somebody’s usually near the radio. Do you want me to whistle them back?”
Valena said, “I take it if I talk to them on the radio, that’s not very private.”
The woman shook her head. “Depending on conditions, about half of the continent can hear you. Or should I say, everyone who’s tuned in to that frequency.” She smiled uncertainly, wanting to please. “It is the main frequency for all the science events in that area.”
Valena’s heart sank. The discussion she needed to have with Dan Lindemann was not for anyone else to hear. She stared at her feet, trying to figure out what to do next.
The radio operator asked, “Do you need to get a private message to them?”
“Yeah.”
“You can write it out and take it down the Helo Ops. Maybe they have someone stopping in that camp sometime soon, and they could drop it off. I’m not sure when you’d get your reply, but it’s better than nothing. Oh, wait.” She tapped a few more keys on her computer. “No, sorry. I was thinking maybe they had an iridium phone out there, or Internet, but they don’t have them at that camp.”
A hundred miles from the nearest flush toilet, but they
might have satellite phones or Internet
, thought Valena. “Where’s Helo Ops?”
“Just down the hill. You can’t miss it.”
I T TOOK V ALENA SEVERAL MINUTES TO FIND HER WAY back out of the building and through the maze of trails and pipelines that led to the road down to the helicopter pads, but at last she succeeded, managing not to slip on any of the ice-glazed banks of snow she had to surmount to make her shortcuts. She could see four helicopters, two larger ones with four blades and two smaller ones with only two blades. She found her way past a dive locker and a gymnasium to the building that housed the offices and storage bays for the helicopter crews. It was closed.
Of course
, thought Valena.
It’s Sunday, everybody’s day off.
She turned and looked back up at Mac Town. The tumbling architecture of Crary Lab, which had been built in steps coming down the steep hill, seemed forbidding, a palace for
“Yes, please. I understand that I can call people in a field camp from here.”
“Sure. Who do you need to call?”
“His name is Dan Lindemann. He’s somewhere in the Dry Valleys.”
“There are nine different events out in the Dry Valleys right now. Do you know which one?”
Valena’s brain suddenly felt tired. “No.”
“Is he the PI?”
“The principal investigator? I don’t think so.”
“What category of event, then?”
“As in …”
“Geology, glaciology, biology …”
“Glaciology.”
“Well, that narrows it down. Let’s see…” She hit a couple of keys on her computer and referred to a list. “He’s out on Clark Glacier with Naomi Bosch. Do you want me to get him on the radio for you?”
“Radio?”
Just then, a slightly garbled, static-ridden voice came inover a speaker. “Mac Ops, Mac Ops, this is Whiskey-218 on Mount Aurora, how read?”
“Excuse me a moment,” the woman told Valena, then leaned toward her microphone and keyed it. “Go ahead, 218.”
“Can you pass a message to the Boss at Fleet Ops? Over.”
“That’s affirmative, 218. Standing by to take your message. Over.”
“Message follows: Sorry, cannot make Black Island traverse. Over.”
“Let me read that back. Cannot make Black Island traverse. Is that correct?”
“Please emphasize my gratitude for the opportunity. I hate to miss it. Thanks for your help. Whiskey-218 clear.”
“Mac Ops clear.” The woman glanced at a clock. “Naomi’s event number is 1-299. They’re due to check in at eighteen hundred, but they’re a drilling camp, so somebody’s usually near the radio. Do you want me to whistle them back?”
Valena said, “I take it if I talk to them on the radio, that’s not very private.”
The woman shook her head. “Depending on conditions, about half of the continent can hear you. Or should I say, everyone who’s tuned in to that frequency.” She smiled uncertainly, wanting to please. “It is the main frequency for all the science events in that area.”
Valena’s heart sank. The discussion she needed to have with Dan Lindemann was not for anyone else to hear. She stared at her feet, trying to figure out what to do next.
The radio operator asked, “Do you need to get a private message to them?”
“Yeah.”
“You can write it out and take it down the Helo Ops. Maybe they have someone stopping in that camp sometime soon, and they could drop it off. I’m not sure when you’d get your reply, but it’s better than nothing. Oh, wait.” She tapped a few more keys on her computer. “No, sorry. I was thinking maybe they had an iridium phone out there, or Internet, but they don’t have them at that camp.”
A hundred miles from the nearest flush toilet, but they
might have satellite phones or Internet
, thought Valena. “Where’s Helo Ops?”
“Just down the hill. You can’t miss it.”
I T TOOK V ALENA SEVERAL MINUTES TO FIND HER WAY back out of the building and through the maze of trails and pipelines that led to the road down to the helicopter pads, but at last she succeeded, managing not to slip on any of the ice-glazed banks of snow she had to surmount to make her shortcuts. She could see four helicopters, two larger ones with four blades and two smaller ones with only two blades. She found her way past a dive locker and a gymnasium to the building that housed the offices and storage bays for the helicopter crews. It was closed.
Of course
, thought Valena.
It’s Sunday, everybody’s day off.
She turned and looked back up at Mac Town. The tumbling architecture of Crary Lab, which had been built in steps coming down the steep hill, seemed forbidding, a palace for
Similar Books
