at him, then at the table again. "You tell me, Nauls. You tell me."
The little work cubicle was filled with filing boxes full of three-by-five cards, tapes, small tools, and open plastic crates filled with pieces of rock. Norris sat at the single small desk. A light hung over him, its flexible metal neck bent at a convenient angle, giving it the look of a steel cobra. It shone brightly on the maps the geophysicist was sorting through. Some of the notations on the maps were in Norwegian, some in English.
Eventually he found the chart he was hunting for and placed it above one of the Norwegian maps. He used a black marking pen to make identical notations on both.
"Here," he announced confidentially. "This is where they were spending most of their time. I cross-checked with their notes. You can figure out the months where they've been written out. They used numeric notation most of the time, though." He continued to make little arrowheads and dots on the maps."
Macready stopped looking over Norris's shoulder and turned at a sound. Bennings poked his head into the room.
"Well?" Macready asked him.
"Pretty nasty out, Mac. Thirty-five knots."
"Any chance it'll let up?"
"Hard to say. I wouldn't count on it. There's one good thing, though."
"What's that?"
"Not much snow in suspension right now. It's pretty clear, and you shouldn't have any icing problems. But it's not what I'd call recreational flying weather."
Macready turned to glance over Norris's shoulder again. "Screw it. I'm going up anyway. I'll take Palmer as a backup, just in case we run into any trouble." His eyes were concentrated on the lower of the two maps, the one with the English markings.
"You sure we can find that place, Norris?"
The geophysicist nodded reassuringly and rose from his chair. "The coordinates are the same on both maps. We'll find it, all right." He started rolling the maps together and turned out the cobra light.
Garry entered the rec room, glanced momentarily at the still stunned Clark and the attentive Nauls, then walked over to join Blair in gazing down at the interlocked animal forms. The station manager wore a clean shirt and had just shaved. The Magnum rested in the holster at his belt, cleaned and reloaded.
"What have you figured out, Blair?"
"Other than a slow way of going nuts, not much." He picked at the fragments of bandage still attached to one bulging leg. "It sure as hell wasn't anything new that got in from outside." He looked over toward Clark. "I'm sure the kennel was locked when Clark found it. We checked the outside dog door. It was still latched from the inside.
"It had to be the new dog. The Norwegian dog."
Garry looked doubtful, and angry. "I just can't comprehend any of this. It was just a dog."
A sharp, derisive laugh sounded from the other side of the room. There was no humor in Childs's voice. "Wasn't no dog, chief. I don't have to have no degree to figure that out."
"That tape Macready showed us earlier this morning," Blair murmured softly.
"Couldn't make much out of it myself."
"I've asked him to try and locate the site where they were working," the biologist went on. "Where that peculiar oval in the ice was, where the explosion broke their video camera. He's taking Palmer with him. Norris volunteered to go along. Okay with you?"
"Sure, if you think it's advisable."
"I'm damned if I can think of anything else to advise."
"You think there's a connection?"
"Maybe." He turned to stare back down at the table and the enigma it held. "Anyhow, like I said, I don't have any other bright ideas. You?"
The station manager tried to make sense of the insane happenings, but could only shake his head dolefully.
The wind flailed the white desert. The chopper bounced and dipped and only experience and determination kept the men inside her from doing the same.
Macready fought the controls as they rode the currents, trying to stay as close to the ground as possible so that they wouldn't miss anything, while still
The little work cubicle was filled with filing boxes full of three-by-five cards, tapes, small tools, and open plastic crates filled with pieces of rock. Norris sat at the single small desk. A light hung over him, its flexible metal neck bent at a convenient angle, giving it the look of a steel cobra. It shone brightly on the maps the geophysicist was sorting through. Some of the notations on the maps were in Norwegian, some in English.
Eventually he found the chart he was hunting for and placed it above one of the Norwegian maps. He used a black marking pen to make identical notations on both.
"Here," he announced confidentially. "This is where they were spending most of their time. I cross-checked with their notes. You can figure out the months where they've been written out. They used numeric notation most of the time, though." He continued to make little arrowheads and dots on the maps."
Macready stopped looking over Norris's shoulder and turned at a sound. Bennings poked his head into the room.
"Well?" Macready asked him.
"Pretty nasty out, Mac. Thirty-five knots."
"Any chance it'll let up?"
"Hard to say. I wouldn't count on it. There's one good thing, though."
"What's that?"
"Not much snow in suspension right now. It's pretty clear, and you shouldn't have any icing problems. But it's not what I'd call recreational flying weather."
Macready turned to glance over Norris's shoulder again. "Screw it. I'm going up anyway. I'll take Palmer as a backup, just in case we run into any trouble." His eyes were concentrated on the lower of the two maps, the one with the English markings.
"You sure we can find that place, Norris?"
The geophysicist nodded reassuringly and rose from his chair. "The coordinates are the same on both maps. We'll find it, all right." He started rolling the maps together and turned out the cobra light.
Garry entered the rec room, glanced momentarily at the still stunned Clark and the attentive Nauls, then walked over to join Blair in gazing down at the interlocked animal forms. The station manager wore a clean shirt and had just shaved. The Magnum rested in the holster at his belt, cleaned and reloaded.
"What have you figured out, Blair?"
"Other than a slow way of going nuts, not much." He picked at the fragments of bandage still attached to one bulging leg. "It sure as hell wasn't anything new that got in from outside." He looked over toward Clark. "I'm sure the kennel was locked when Clark found it. We checked the outside dog door. It was still latched from the inside.
"It had to be the new dog. The Norwegian dog."
Garry looked doubtful, and angry. "I just can't comprehend any of this. It was just a dog."
A sharp, derisive laugh sounded from the other side of the room. There was no humor in Childs's voice. "Wasn't no dog, chief. I don't have to have no degree to figure that out."
"That tape Macready showed us earlier this morning," Blair murmured softly.
"Couldn't make much out of it myself."
"I've asked him to try and locate the site where they were working," the biologist went on. "Where that peculiar oval in the ice was, where the explosion broke their video camera. He's taking Palmer with him. Norris volunteered to go along. Okay with you?"
"Sure, if you think it's advisable."
"I'm damned if I can think of anything else to advise."
"You think there's a connection?"
"Maybe." He turned to stare back down at the table and the enigma it held. "Anyhow, like I said, I don't have any other bright ideas. You?"
The station manager tried to make sense of the insane happenings, but could only shake his head dolefully.
The wind flailed the white desert. The chopper bounced and dipped and only experience and determination kept the men inside her from doing the same.
Macready fought the controls as they rode the currents, trying to stay as close to the ground as possible so that they wouldn't miss anything, while still
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