November 29th 2005: Talos Dome Plateau, Antarctica
Steve Ross braced himself for the vicious onslaught he was about to face. He hated this place, the complete opposite to hell. Outside the temperature was a cool -200C, but there was a storm blowing so wind chill and the driving snow added to his misery. His team had noticed interesting strata in the ice core they had pulled up and wanted him to see it, immediately. He took a deep breath, adjusted his mask and pushed open the outer airlock door of the habitat. Blinded by the snow swirling past and buffeted by the wind, he tethered himself to the guide rope and leaned back into the wind. The storm had struck suddenly, but would soon pass, so the core drill team had taken shelter in the core store.
He pulled open the metal store door and greeted his excited colleagues. “What’s got into you guys, you’re like boys in a brothel. I hope it’s worth getting up out of a warm bed for.” The door closed shutting out the howling weather and he removed his mask. It was a lot warmer in here without the wind chill but still their breath hung like smoke in the stark fluorescent light. The five other men were gathered around a long, stout timber table and beckoned him over to see the exposed ice core laid out on it. Harry Wilson picked up a marker pen and used it as a pointer. “This is the stratum we want you to see, that fine black hairline, just there.”
“You’ve got good eyes Harry, are you sure it goes right through the core?”
“Yes, I turned the sample and also scraped it in case it was a surface stain, but it’s solid. It’s a fine layer of deposit, dust from some event I would guess, Steve.”
Steve pulled out a small phial and disposable scalpel from their sealed packs, from his parka pocket, then scraped the black substance into the phial. “There’s no other band on the core that I can see, so I will go and test this straight away. Thanks for calling me over, it was worth it.”
The wind had dropped to occasional gusts now and as he stepped outside, he marveled at the expanse of pure white, to the horizon. The sun suddenly broke through and dazzled him, so he hastily refitted his mask and hurried back to the laboratory. People spoke as he rushed by, but he was unaware of answering them, he had to know what this sample contained. As Steve changed into his lab coat, Dana his assistant got up out of Steve’s bed and dressed.
Steve spoke as he worked feverishly with the sample and peered through the eyepieces.
“I’ll take a preliminary look at the sample using the optical microscope, can you set up the electron, then start a chemical analysis. It’s very odd Dana, this substance should not be here. Thank goodness Harry spotted it, especially in such poor conditions.
“Wow, Dana, you have got to see this!”
She peered in and drew a sharp breath, “well, I’m fucked!” she said, in awe. They rushed off separately to set up and carry out the other tests.
Several hours later, Steve typed up his report, backed by microscopic and chemical analysis, and then phoned through to Stella Bancroft, the Director of Operations.
“Hi Stella, I have completed the preliminary analysis and am confident my conclusion will be supported by independent testing, can I come and see you now and run through my findings?”
“By the tremor in your voice, I couldn’t stop you. Yes, come straight away.”
Steve arrived, grinning and breathless and ran through the report. Stella was excited, but held it in check. “You did follow protocol, didn’t you?”
“Yes, Dana and I were very careful, doubly so when we saw what the electron microscope revealed. The sooner we get the core back to base for full analysis, the better I will be pleased. I am amazed that it could have survived for 3 million years, no wonder we can’t identify it.”
“We don’t actually know what age it is, until it’s dated. If your assumption is correct, and the iridium trace suggests you are, it could be up to 3 million years old, but also much younger. I will get this report off to base immediately and arrange transport of the core. Thanks Steve, I will thank Harry personally.”
That night, the station was alive with activity, Harry was ill. Paul Brown the station doctor was in a panic, Harry awoke with a fever but the poor man was getting worse by the minute. Paul phoned through to Stella to make his recommendations.
“Stella, we need to move Harry back to base immediately along with everyone who has been in contact with him today. All those people should be kept in quarantine for the time being, to see if they go down with it as well.”
“What do you think is wrong with him Paul?”
“It could be something he came here with that has been dormant, but I don’t really know. It is like a bad dose of flu, he’s been coughing and sweating, and now he is in a lot of pain, not localized, but all over. I have dosed him up with pain killers, but it’s not holding it back.”
Stella felt sick with fear and leapt out of bed to contact the base in Australia for support. Current weather conditions ruled out an air lift for 24 hours, they had to manage the situation as best they could, for now. She issued instructions for everyone to stay in their rooms and not to go near anyone, there was a serious infection risk and until help came, do nothing to spread it.
The station went quiet soon after that, but hours later, the screaming started!
Sam Leighton phoned Max Fortune at 10pm for their next mission. “Max, I need you and Carla for an urgent job. Your flight from Gatwick in the Learjet leaves in eight hours. Your brief is on board.”
This was a typical phone briefing; just the basics, no critical or sensitive information with the ever-possible risk of unwanted listeners. Absolutely everything they would need for the trip would be provided on the flight: instructions, identities, funds, credit cards, and clothes suitable for the country, climate and their new persona.
Sam was Head of The Organization, a position of immense responsibility. His calm and efficient manner put everyone at ease, even though they would not be speaking with him unless the matter was serious. When Max first met Sam, he knew he was dealing with a very rare character, a man of awesome intellect and clear focus. He had greeted Max warmly but his eyes disassembled Max during the first few seconds of unwavering eye contact as they shook hands. He knew everything about Max from a dossier and when offering future missions, would manage him accordingly. Sam always asked his people for help, knowing they would never refuse him. Both Max and Carla Day, Max’s work partner and lover, were hooked with the request for help. They craved the challenge of the unexpected, his missions always brought.
Carla asked Robert Leighton, Sam’s brother and party host, to call a taxi to take them back to the Hilton, “Sam needs us on another mission,” she said. They bid goodbye to the guests that mattered, thanked Robert for all his help in making their just-completed mission a success and wished him all the best for the future. Their taxi was arriving just as they reached the gate-.
Earlier the same day, they had been celebrating-.