Hive

LaHune had to pacify the collective beast before it took a bite out of him. Looking around the community room which was barely half full, Hayes could almost feel that the tensions of the past week had subsided somewhat. Like a chiropractor with a good set of hands had worked out the kinks and bunched muscles of the station.

“No shit?” he said. “You telling me our fine and randy Mr. LaHune isn’t worrying about word of our mummies leaking out? That city?”

Sharkey took a bite of stew, chewed it carefully. “Oh, he covered that base. He directed it at our wallets. Told us it’s okay to mention that fossils and artifacts had been found, just not to be perpetuating any of the wild rumors circulating through camp. Said that, if crazy stories like that got out, those who sent them would not be invited back by the NSF . . . meaning they can kiss Antarctica good-bye, along with those juicy contracts and exclusive grants.”

Though he didn’t care for LaHune anymore than he cared for a woodtick fastened to his left nut, Hayes had to agree that it was the right way to handle things. People didn’t pay much attention to threats until you put their livelihood and careers on the chopping block. If LaHune had any sense, he would have done it in the first place.

“Honestly though, Jimmy, I don’t think people here are going to talk about any of that. They’re barely talking about it amongst themselves. It seems that most of them have accepted my post on Meiner as an embolism.”

Hayes studied his food, set his fork down. “Yeah, but do you accept it?”

Sharkey looked indifferent. “Down here, with the very limited pathological facilities, it’ll have to do. I examined Meiner’s brain pretty thoroughly. It was a massive hemorrhage, all right . . . blood vessels popped like ripe grapes just about everywhere. So I accept that. As to cause . . . well, that’s a different bag of chips, isn’t it?”

“I suppose it is at that.”

“Gates radioed us this morning on the HF,” Sharkey said. “I was in the radio shack when it came in.”

“And?”

“A few items of interest. Gates and his team are still finding the things up there. He was saying fossils, but I guess by this point we can read through the lines pretty much. More fossils, more artifacts. According to what he said, they’ve been spending a lot of time in that subterranean city. I got on the horn and asked him what he was making of the ruins, but he was almost . . . evasive, I guess, about what he’s seeing.”

Hayes thought about that, was thinking that Gates should have dynamited that chasm close while he still could. But maybe it was already too late for that. The cage was open, now wasn’t it? And the beast had gotten loose after millions of years. He swallowed. “Did you mention that state of his mummies?”

“I did.”

“And his reply?”

She shook her head. “He seemed a little confused about it all . . . like it was some gray area in his head.”

“I’ll just bet it is.”

Sharkey said he managed to cover for himself okay, though, saying that letting his specimens thaw and maybe decompose was part of some experiment he was running. And maybe it was, though she didn’t believe it. She said Gates alluded to the fact that he had uncovered a great deal more specimens in some kind of cemetery up there . . . or down there . . . and he wasn’t too concerned about the ones in the hut.

“He just said to make sure the hut stayed locked and people stayed out of there.” Sharkey was looking into Hayes’ eyes now. “I suppose he could be worried about us contaminating something he has going in there, but — “

“But you don’t believe it?”

“No, I don’t.” She took another bite of stew and washed it down with coffee. “There was . . . well, almost an undercurrent to his voice, Jimmy. Maybe it was my imagination, but I don’t think so. He was almost guarded, unnecessarily formal. At times it almost seemed like he was speaking really low like he didn’t want to be overheard and other times he muttered nonsensical things. But when I asked him to repeat, he changed the subject.”

“He’s in trouble, Doc. I’m willing to bet they all are.”

“Maybe. Thing is, LaHune showed for the last half of our convo and, true to form, he didn’t seem to think there was anything out of the ordinary. I don’t know. Maybe there isn’t.”

“Did he say anything else?”

“Gates? Well . . . he said that they found an abandoned Russian camp up there, about ten miles from their location. He said it was pretty much buried in snow, but he was really intrigued by it. I could hear the excitement in his voice, Jimmy. It may mean nothing, but . . . “

“Maybe everything?”

Sharkey didn’t bother with her food anymore. “I know Gates as well as anyone, Jimmy. He’s completely self-involved and dedicated. He pays no attention to that which doesn’t directly concern his project. And I tell you right now that his interest in that camp isn’t simple curiosity. He asked me to call my Russian friends down at Vostok, see what they had to say about it.”