'That sounds like a police state,' Mendoza said.
'No, Carl. A state with police. A citizen militia. Us. So no one else has to die.'
Mendoza frowned, considering it.
'Another thing,' Pulaski said. 'That means the science goes on hold.'
'NSF isn't going to like that,' Norse pointed out.
'Fuck NSF. If they're not getting their data, maybe they'll figure out some way to resolve this thing. Send in an FBI agent like we've talked about. Get us the hell out of here. Something.'
There was a murmur of approval. Enough was enough.
'This is a radical decision to lock Lewis up,' Norse said. 'To lock the rest of ourselves in. I think it has to be a group decision.'
'What about our work?' Lewis protested. 'I thought we were all down here for the research. What about Jim Sparco's data? Global warming? We won't get anything done with what you're proposing!'
'And I say no more victims,' Pulaski responded. 'No more sacrificial sheep. This is a state of emergency until we can get out of here, get help, get something. If we block up the entrances no one can get us from outside. None of us can wander off to be picked off. We arm everybody. I train everybody. If a killer strikes, I want it to be a fight. I want noise. I want screaming. I want the attacker so bloody punctured with wounds that there's no question who did it. And then I want to fry him myself.' He looked at them fiercely.
'It's liable to feel a little claustrophobic,' Norse cautioned.
'Winter's already claustrophobic,' Pulaski said. 'Better claustrophobic than dead.' Most of the others nodded. It was time to bar the door. It was time to pen Jed Lewis. The geologist looked around for support and saw none. Abby was looking morosely at the floor, outnumbered, alone, and confused by doubts.
'You can make a fight of it or you can cooperate,' Pulaski told him. 'I'm not saying it's you. I'm saying we won't know it's not you until we remove you as a variable. Like we tried to do at Clean Air.'
'Except he goes in the storm when Harrison dies,' Molotov said. 'Calls Rod when Cameron dies.'
Slowly Lewis sat down, dizzy with fear.
'Another thing,' Geller said. 'I say no more censorship. No more e-mail cancellation, no more radio silence. It's time the world knows what's going on down here, not just the bureaucrats at NSF. It's time we screamed bloody murder.'
'Damn right!' Dana said.
'I understand what you're saying.' Norse looked uneasy. 'I know we need help. But before we get on the horn, hollering our heads off, let's cool the jets a minute. We've got a new polar base planned. We've got a hundred million dollars riding on how these events are characterized in the media. If you guys get on the net and start yelling for your mothers, it's going to sound like Charles Manson.'
'So?' Geller asked.
'The whole polar program could be in jeopardy.'
'And with our lives at stake, how many of us give a rat's ass about the polar program right now, Doctor Bob?' Pulaski demanded.
Norse waited, letting the question add weight. 'I don't know,' he said softly. 'How many?'
People shifted uncomfortably. 'It's survival, Doctor,' Dana said quietly.
'What do you propose to say to your friends? Who can help you? What good is it to contact them right now except to worry them needlessly?'
'I'll bet they're worried already by not hearing from us,' Dana said.
'I'm just suggesting we give NSF a chance to handle this.'
'Screw that,' said Geller. 'They should've parachuted an investigator in the minute Mickey disappeared. They've left us swinging in the wind. I say we tell the world what's going on.'
Norse's eyes polled the room. They were against him on this one.
'All right,' he surrendered. 'Broadcast your panic. Destroy this station. Maybe that's what the killer wants.'
'We're bottled up,' Pulaski said defensively. 'We need release.'
'You're also professionals. I thought.'
The two men looked at each other.
'I can't stop you,' Norse said. 'I know that.'
Pulaski hesitated. He was a cook, not a beaker. Norse had unconscious rank. Norse was looking at a bigger picture. 'Okay, then how about this,' he said reluctantly, looking at the others. 'We have leverage, people. Leverage! It's like Doctor Bob says- we broadcast this in the right way and we can turn this station into a fiasco. Too unstable. End all funding for it. Close it up and send it packing. And that's our stick with NSF! Let's call them, and tell them what we've discussed, and give them twenty-four hours to figure out a way to get us out of here. I don't care if it's the space shuttle or a dog sled, we deserve to go home. And if they can't do that, then we talk about this to the world. The world! Let the chips fall where they may.'
'Twenty-four hours isn't much time,' Norse said.
'They've had time and done nothing.'
The others nodded.
Norse took an unhappy breath. 'All right. Deal. Let me talk to them on the phone when the satellites come in view. I agree, they need to know how antsy we all are. I'll talk to them about Lewis, about Tyson, about everyone. Let me think of what I want to say and we should be ready to phone in'-he looked at his watch- 'an hour, say.'
'I want to hear what you tell them,' Geller said.
'And I don't want to talk as a committee. They'll get a babble and things will be more confused than ever. Give me a chance, okay? A chance to save the winter. One day. Clyde Skinner will be helping and he can listen. Okay, Clyde?' Skinner was their radioman.
He nodded.
'Meet me there in an hour to fire things up,' Norse said.
It was enough. Everyone appeared to agree on this compromise.
'Jed goes into the sauna, at least for the time being. And Cueball, why don't you start figuring how to lock us in, like you said? Our world shrinks down to this dome. Spaceship Pulaski.' Norse looked at them and took a breath. The group was still under control. If nothing more happened, maybe they could make it.
'I'll do my best to resolve this thing,' Norse promised.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The explosion was so muffled that at first it was more puzzling than alarming, sounding in the galley like a flat, mysterious whump. Then the alarm began ringing. Fire! It was the one deadly threat they constantly drilled for: In the dry air of the Pole, combustibles could flash into fire like gasoline, and liquid water to douse them was in chronic short supply. Reaction was instantaneous and automatic. People jerked to their feet, chairs toppling over, a coffee cup spilled. This was no overcooked pig, it was the real thing! Not bothering to dress, they crashed out the galley door and sprinted for assigned extinguishers and hoses. There was a haze in the air of the dome.
'Where's it coming from!' Pulaski yelled.
Smoke was drifting out of one end of Comms, he saw, its aluminum wall bulging like a blister. The radio room! The cook called for help and then waved their dead run to a halt, feeling the outside of the metal module for heat before cautiously opening a door. A gust of smoky gases rolled out, stinking and ominous. From inside came an agonized screaming.
'Christ,' Pulaski muttered, shining a flashlight into the murk. 'What more can happen? Was Doctor Bob in there?'
Everyone looked around. Norse was nowhere to be seen.
Gina Brindisi had the presence of mind to run around the end of the building to a crack where the building had split like a swollen can, and then spray fire retardant through the hole into the communications center. Pulaski, Geller, and Calhoun donned fire masks and pushed into the corridor, squirting halon and hunting for survivors. The screaming was horrible. When they reached the radio room it was dark and smoky, illuminated by spurts of sparks.
