BOOK I - 2022 
    

The seeming limitlessness of the open surface gave him a gnawing, heavy feeling in the center of his chest. With his breath echoing overloud inside the coldsuit helmet, Billy Crane was conscious of being outside, of not being contained. Even with all the training and preparation, and actual service runs with Todney showing him about the dogs, the sensation of being alone and unprotected was nerve-wracking.

He couldn't see the western horizon; land and sky merged into a silver-gray blur. Overhead, the perpetual overcast threatened with the impending darkness of the early winter night. The dogs barked constantly, their breath making streaming puffs in the frigid air. Billy always wondered how they could keep barking and still run at top speed pulling the sleek aluminum and glass sled. The glass fiber runners vibrated against the crystallized surface that lay eight centimeters under the powdered layer of snow which filled the air behind them with a cloud of swirling white.

One time solo, out along the endless string of microwave stations to the first relay, that's all the real experience he had. An extra early start in the morning gave him plenty of time to make the run to both stations and return, but at the first stop he was faced with an unexpected volume of snow drifted up over the entrance. He had to dig his way in, plus chopping through several inches of ice that had crusted over the building since his first visit the month before. Now there was precious little time to make the run to the second station and still make it back to the Center before the light failed. The idea of being out on the ice in the dark was not appealing.

The sled lurched violently to one side as a runner dropped off the edge of an unseen crevasse and then righted itself seconds later as it picked up speed on a downslope. Both his feet were in the air scrambling for the solid footing of the sled platform. Back on the level the dogs never broke their pace, although they seemed to be running slower. He'd been pushing them too hard. Fear of the coming darkness and the anxiety that grew with each mile that separated him from the warmth and safety of the Center would not let him hold them back. The Station-2 homing signal registered on the compass indicator by his hand. They were still on course. He'd never been this far out before.

A slight rise slowed the dogs and at the crest he could suddenly see the second station sitting at the top of the next rise; a dark block under the white-on-gray bubble that protected the microwave dishes. Ten more minutes and they could rest.

Halfway up the last rise, the older, more experienced lead dog sensed something that brought a howl of rage and the fur bristling up her back. The others, picking up her excitement began frantically to pull up the slope.

"Hey!," he yelled, desperately pulling on the lines.

The male Polar Bear was big, probably over 1200 pounds. The slightly smaller female was already moving away from the station, but the male rose up on his hind legs, roaring a challenge to the charging dog team.

Billy dug his heels and pulled back with all his strength. The dogs strained against the lines, crazy with the sound and scent of the bears. The sled slowed and veered sideways, sliding on the icy surface under the powder. Forward motion stopped, but the hysterical dogs continued to leap up and lunge within the limits of their harness lines.

The bear dropped to all fours and smoothly loped off toward the east, following his mate. Evidently the number of dogs and the incessant racket was enough to make the huge animal nervous.

 Polar Bear, Billy thought, that's what they're called. He'd seen images of them in school along with all the other animals that used to roam the surface before the ice. His heart pounding, arms and legs trembling from the extra exertion, Billy tried to calm the dogs. Todney had never mentioned such a possibility and Matthew certainly never talked about seeing any animals during all the years of his lonely trips outside to service the Western Line; the ring of microwave stations that linked the Center with the Western Simulate.

How could something live out here? His mind was racing. Animals that large would have to eat a lot of food. The idea of life on the surface left him burning with unanswered questions.

Minutes later, Billy and the still highly excited dog team arrived at the station. The dogs sniffing at the snow and continuing to bark.

"Take it easy, now! Come on, the bears are gone!" He repeatedly scanned the rugged white surface in the direction of the bears departure. He could see no movement. Hoping to distract the dogs, he quickly opened up some ration bags from the sled compartment and distributed food along the line. "Here have some pellets. You guys act like you've never seen a Polar Bear before...well, I sure never have!"

Saving the largest portion for the lead dog, He said, "Here baby...eat. You need your strength. Remember, you still have to get us back home!" She accepted the food readily, but with no sign of affection. She was Matthew's favorite and had no interest in Billy except for food.

He wished he knew all their names. Matthew's death was so sudden, no one else had ever worked with them. Billy had taken over the job without any warning, dogs and all. "I know you miss Matthew. I do too, but we're stuck with each other...and I have to trust you...so eat up!"

Focusing his attention to the station, he was puzzled why the huge bears should be lingering near the building. The station offered nothing to eat, just cold concrete walls. The emergency supplies were sealed inside. Taking the short-handled shovel from the sled, he moved the last 10 meters to the station entrance.

He was startled to see the deep inset door portal almost totally clear of snow. It had to have been dug out within the past two days! There had been a storm earlier in the week and this station entrance should have been buried, just like the first one, under several feet of drifted snow and crusted ice.

Someone's been here! Or, he thought, they're still here. But how could this be?

Billy stepped cautiously down into the dug-out space in front of the entry. What if the bears were staying around because they thought there was the possibility of a meal? He pushed against the ice-coated surface of the door. It was locked. A sense of dread filled him as he fumbled with the coldsuit pocket closure. Getting a grip on the key prong while wearing gloves took moments longer.

The key turned with a click and he pushed the door open slowly. The inner airlock was empty except for chunks of snow that had been knocked off the feet of whoever had entered earlier. Then he remembered the dogs. If they took off for the Center he could never catch them. They were not bonded to him like they were to Matthew. They had no loyalty to Billy to make them wait. Todney always told him, men died in this frozen world from simple, stupid mistakes.

Running back to the team, he led them closer to the entry portal and attached a tie line to the door handle. Satisfied the restless animals were secure for the moment, he re-entered the airlock. The inner door opened with a simple, oversized latch handle.

The power switches were just inside the door. He flipped all three. There was no response. Clicking them several times he realized they had been left in the on position. Either the power was disconnected, or more probably, exhausted. The extra storage battery was in the sled and he'd need the portalight to install the new battery. Eyes straining into the dark room he turned to go.

His eyes caught something, in the reflected light from outside, something that didn't belong. He could make out the figure of a man sitting on the floor, slumped back against the lower cabinets.

"What the...Hello? Are you alright?" There was no movement. "I'm Billy Crane from the Center...Hello?" He moved to one side to not block the light. The eyes were open but not seeing and the head was tilted at an odd angle. This was not a living person!

With his heart pumping and his mind racing, Billy made his way back to the sled for the portalight and battery. A dead man inside the station? His technical manuals never prepared him for this.

Stopping again at the inner door, he strained to see more detail in the dim, reflected light. The man was certainly dead. He decided to concentrate on the power problem. Turning on the portalight he turned away from the man. He wouldn't really look at him--not just yet.

Removing his coldsuit helmet, he inhaled the smell of wet fur and animal waste. The air felt cold. He closed the inner door to retain whatever heat left inside. His hands shook as he turned the four twist latches on the power panel cover. The portalight made giant shadows on the white, enameled, cement block walls.

"Damn!" His glove caught on the latch. He couldn't get his gloved fingers under the panel cover. He gave the panel a smack with his hand and the gray metal rectangle fell off onto the concrete floor with a loud clatter.

The new battery was just like the used one. Exchanging the two, Billy reconnected the battery connections and flipped on the switches. As soft fluorescent light glowed from the ceiling, he turned his attention back to the deceased intruder on the floor.

The man had probably died from loss of blood. Long bloody gashes across his body led to a large, dark pool of dried blood on the floor. No wonder the bears were hanging around!

Billy moved closer. The face, lined and weathered like he had never seen before, indicating he must have been outside most of his life. The man's clothes looked strange, like the images he remembered of ancient, primitive peoples. The bulky, hooded parka and pants were made totally of animal furs and no sign of any kind of personal body heating system.

Gingerly Billy pulled open the parka and lifted the hood to see close-cropped and mostly gray hair. He was wearing very old, knitted shirts. Hanging around his neck on a knotted cord, Billy was surprised to find a key prong that looked like it matched his master key to all the microwave stations, clearly marked "Government of North America." There was nothing that would be a clue to the man's identity. Why was he here?

Looking around the room, Billy could find nothing out of place. The power LEDs were blinking peacefully. The man hadn't gotten into the emergency supplies.

He didn't see the package until he stooped to retrieve the fallen panel cover. He almost didn't notice it. The odd, black plastic wrapping blended into the shadows. The package must have been jammed behind the panel cover where it would be certain to be found since the battery was changed every visit. Was this something that was left for Matthew? There were blood stains on the outside of the panel cover.

"Matthew is the only person who ever came out here!" Billy spoke out loud, his voice strange in the empty quiet of the room. Could Matthew have been receiving secret communications from someone on the outside? The idea stunned and shocked him. Someone from some place other than the Center, coming over the endless ice fields, actually traveling to this isolated relay station. It went against everything he was taught or thought he believed.

Was this something that happened regularly? Some kind of communication with people inside the Center? Communication from who? Holding the black package, Billy tried to think it through. It wouldn't be from anyone in the Western Simulate. They used the regular commsystem message service like all the families did. The dead man had obviously risked his life to deliver the package and perhaps Matthew shared that risk, which would account for part of the mystery surrounding his sudden death.

He opened the front of his government regulation, yellow and black coldsuit and jammed the package inside the front of his shirt down to the waist belt. Cold against his skin, it was something to think about later. He couldn't start back to the Center until he'd completed the regular system checks his visit required.

Even without direct communication they would know when he completed the checks. Any change of circuitry on the monitoring and relay systems would instantly be noticed at Commcentral. Part of the exhilaration of being outside was that no one knew exactly where you were or what you were doing. Added to the risks and dangers of being out on the ice, it became an added sensation. But once inside the station, the watchful presence of the Center waited.

Several tiny circuit batteries were low, as expected. He exchanged them with the charged ones he carried. Each time he crossed the room, he stepped carefully over the dead man's legs. The commterm keyboard was prominent on the counter top. Should he use emergency procedures and contact Commcentral? He thought about Matthew; gentle, trusting, who would never hurt anyone. Possibly Matthew knew the dead man. They could have been friends meeting occasionally when Matthew was out servicing the line. What would Matthew have done if he'd found his friend like this? The coming darkness would not wait for a well-thought decision.

All systems were online, their green LED lights blinking softly. Closing his coldsuit, Billy opened the inner door and taking the dead man's feet, began to drag him toward the fading light.

He moved him as far away from the station as he dared. The memory of the recent departure of the Polar bears kept him from going a greater distance. He covered the body with as much snow as he could. The man would either freeze into the surface or become food for the bears after all.

The thought of being out on the ice at night held back any tiredness. Billy repacked the tools, portalight, expended batteries into the sled compartment, He passed another round of snacks to the dogs and did a final survey of the station, closing switches and putting everything back into its usual state of automatic operation. He could not deal with the large blood stain on the gray concrete floor so he tried not to look at it.

The dogs were on their feet barking to go even before he had the outer door closed and his helmet in place. They started down the hill at a run. The snow swirled behind the sled and driver, eventually settling back to soften the marks of their passing.

Copyright © 1999 by Gale Peterson