LATER THAT SAME day, the kids were in the supply room, modeling gear in front of a mirror.
“You look huge,” Andrew said to Polly.
“You look funny, too.” Polly giggled. She wore a parka, waterproof pants, three layers of long underwear, a pair of goggles, a pair of under-gloves, a pair of fur mittens, a neck warmer, two hats, three pairs of socks, and some fur boots tagged FINNESKOE. A vocabulary word for the schoolkids, Polly decided.
“These clothes look old,” Billy said.
“It’s not Gore-Tex or any of the fabrics that we’re used to,” Robert said.
“Animal furs are warmer,” Grace told him. “And better.”
“I’m burning up.” Andrew tugged at his turtleneck. Sweat poured down his face.
“You’ll be glad for these clothes in a couple of days,” Billy said. In the polar gear he appeared twice his regular slim size.
“At least it’s late spring there,” Polly said.
“It is?” Robert spoke without thinking. He hated to admit that he didn’t know something, even a fact about a land as remote and foreign as Antarctica.
“Yeah, we’ll be landing in November, when Scott started his trek,” Polly said. “The days will be long. The sun may not set.”
Robert felt stupid. He should have remembered the seasonal difference in the hemispheres. What else had he forgotten?
Polly laughed and pointed at all of them in the mirror. “We look like that photo of the Scott expedition on the video.”
“Polly, those guys were losers,” Robert said sharply.
No one said anything else, but for Polly the fun of dressing up was over. Robert’s rebuke hurt her feelings and angered her at the same time. She had read enough to learn that the Scott expedition boasted accomplished scientists. Among them were surgeons, a physicist, a zoologist, geologists, and a biologist. They were not losers.
“My clothes are fine,” Billy said quietly. He slipped out of the heavy garments and stowed them in a bag marked BILLY. While the others were still fooling with the gear, he turned to go. Robert had kept him so busy last night that he hadn’t had time to study the maps.
Billy looked at a 1911 map of Antarctica and saw that Scott had landed on something named the Ross Ice Shelf. Comparing the 1911 map with a map dated 2057, the last year that the government had sent scientists to Antarctica, he noted that the ice shelf appeared to have melted. They would land on Beardmore Glacier.
He heard someone fidgeting and turned to see Polly standing next to him.
“So these are the maps, huh?” she said. “What are you looking at?”
“The Beardmore Glacier,” Billy said.
“Oh,” Polly said. “So that’s the Beardmore.”
“What do you know about it?” Billy asked.
“Scott began his ascent of the Beardmore on December tenth, nineteen eleven,” Polly said, remembering the facts from one of her books. “Three groups of four men carried two hundred pounds of supplies per man up its slopes. It was really rough going.”
“Do you always sound like an encyclopedia?” Billy said.
Polly sighed and fought the impulse to turn around and rush back to her cabin. Why were these boys so rude? Didn’t Billy realize that to win the game, they all needed to get along?
Billy figured that if he ignored Polly, maybe she would leave. He studied the next map. It showed the placement of depots. They were in a straight line to the Pole, but since compasses didn’t work well in Antarctica, he’d have to keep track of the longitude and the latitude to calculate the distance traveled.
Polly stirred beside him. Why hadn’t she left?
“Billy, Robert’s made me navigator.”
What an idiot! She was going to tell him to get out of her map room.
“I guess he thought that because I could read books, I could read maps.” Polly laughed. That’s right. Keep your voice light. You need Billy.
It was obvious that Polly couldn’t navigate her way out of her bathroom. Billy could have told that to Robert, but the fool hadn’t asked his opinion. “I can’t,” Polly concluded. “I mean, I’ve never even tried.” A part of her wanted to kick Billy in the shin, but she managed to say, “So could you help?”
“I was planning to do it anyway.” No one could keep Billy out of the map room.
Polly sighed with relief. Holding her tongue had paid off.
“And …” Billy turned back to stare at the maps.
“And?” Polly said.
“I don’t need any help, so you can leave,” Billy said.
Polly turned around and walked out the door. She couldn’t stand to be in the room with that boy another instant. “We have five days to bond together,” Robert had said at breakfast. Five days to hurt each other’s feelings, Polly thought.
The kids had been so busy that they hadn’t sat down for lunch, but for dinner Shipchef spit out sandwiches, chips, and concentrate from real oranges. Billy had never had real fake orange juice before, just orange drink. He took a sip of the juice. It was not as sweet as the drink, which he liked better.
“Polly, how many motor sledges did Scott have?” Robert asked. Robert and Billy had been making an inventory of all the gear before deciding what to load into the big sacks that were going to be strapped to the sleds.
“He started with three,” Polly said. “But he lost one unloading it from the ship on the thin ice. I think I told you, the motor sledges weren’t reliable.”
“It will be great if the Secretary has given us three,” Billy said. “Otherwise I don’t know what we’re going to do with all our stuff.”
“If Scott had them on board,” Robert said, “I wonder why the Secretary didn’t put them on the ship.” He took a bite of his peanut butter sandwich.
“She’s not always accurate,” Polly said. “I read that the Alamo guys carried guns that weren’t invented until the Civil War.”
“It’s probably that simple,” Robert said, “but I keep looking for meaning behind everything. For instance, did any of you guys think that DOE clinic was spooky?”
“What do you mean?” Andrew asked. He had liked sleeping in the clinic, with its fresh sheets on the beds and a television mounted on the wall.
“It’s like they knocked me out.” Robert tore into his bag of chips.
“Now that you mention that clinic—” Polly said, biting into her sandwich.
Billy interrupted her. “I thought I was the only one. The whole stay seemed like one long dream.”
“I remember doctors standing over me, talking. One came toward me, holding a long needle pointed at my eye; then everything went black,” Robert said.
A needle aimed at his eye, Grace thought. She had cut tendons and muscles with her scalpel, but she couldn’t imagine puncturing an eye.
Billy involuntarily touched his eyelids. They felt normal.
“I just remember voices,” Polly said. “I kept trying to wake up and listen, but I couldn’t.”
Andrew remembered a nice nurse standing over him and encouraging him to drink a purple liquid.
“I’d give anything to know what they did to us,” Robert said. He didn’t have a good feeling about that clinic visit.
“Remember, we’re on camera,” Billy said.
“Use your head. Do you think that darn Hot Sauce is going to broadcast anything she doesn’t like?” Robert glared at Billy. He finished his last bite of sandwich.
“The Secretary’s nickname,” Robert explained.
Steve chuckled. “I wonder how that kid learned her nickname.”
“I don’t know,” Chad said.
Except for Pearl, who was sweeping the same spot on the floor over and over, Steve and Chad were alone. The rest of the crew was on a break.
“We need to double delete that whole conversation,” Chad said. “Hot Sauce is so paranoid about the corneal implants that she doesn’t allow references to the clinic even on the backup system.”
Steve reached for the DELETE button, but Chad grabbed his hand. “On second thought, sometimes we save some of these cut scenes.”
“Why?” Steve asked.
Chad shrugged. “They could be useful.”
“If you say so,” Steve said hesitantly.
“Let’s double delete the scene from the official records but save it in a separate file.”
Steve pushed the TRANSFER button.
Chad leaned over his shoulder.
The computer asked Steve to name the file. “What’s the file’s name?”
“‘P.B.’?” Chad said.
“What does that stand for?” Steve asked.
“Possible blackmail.” Chad laughed.
Steve froze. Blackmail?
Chad clapped Steve on the back. “But we’re very careful.”
The swish, swish, swish of the broom competed with the thumping of Steve’s heart as he nodded.
Jacob Petrello walked in and joined them at the screens. Jacob was a sandy-haired man around thirty-five years of age. When Steve had first met Jacob, he had liked him instinctively.
On the screens, the kids were all working silently at their different jobs.
“Hey!” Jacob pointed at Andrew’s screen. “He’s talking.”
Chad turned the volume up.
Andrew was alone with the ponies. “You know, guys,” he said to the animals, “I have a confession to make. I’ve never been this close to a pony before. But if you help me, I’ll help you.” He held up a round contraption. “This is a horseshoe.” He paused. “I mean a pony shoe. I need to put this on you.” He looked into the eyes of one of the ponies. “So?”
“How long do you think it’s going to take for Andrew to get that thing on?” Chad asked.
“I guess about two hours,” Jacob said.
“I’ll put it at three,” Chad said.
“He’ll figure it out,” Steve said confidently.
Two hours and fifty minutes later, Steve had to admit that Chad was right. Andrew still hadn’t been able to get the pony to raise its hoof long enough for him to secure the shoe.
Andrew looked as discouraged as Steve felt.
“You’d help him if you could, wouldn’t you?” Jacob said to Steve.
What an odd question! How could he, a production editor, help any of the kids? But Steve didn’t hesitate before answering. “Sure.”
The pony kept still for an instant. Andrew jammed the shoe on.
Yeah, Andrew! It’s a shame, Steve thought, that he can’t hear our cheers.