Page 7 of Researching the Pole

The mess hall at the main station building was half-full when we arrived, the smell of hot food making my stomach growl. A few people looked up as we entered. We grabbed trays, loaded our food, and sat at a corner table.

“So here’s the plan,” I said, between bites. “I’ll setup the equipment for remote data capture in our cabin tonight. Tomorrow we go back out, you dive and deploy the full hydrophone array. We test it out. Then we go out daily to check the array and observe seal activity.”

Grant nodded, chewing. “What happens if the dude starts doing his thing?”

“My equipment will pick it up.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“We have seven days. So hopefully we’ll get lucky.”

“Works for me.” He took another bite. “I’m all yours, Doc.”

That shouldn’t have made my pulse jump.

“Dr. Cole!” A man was standing next to our table with big bushy eyebrows and a bright smile. I stood to shake his hand. “I’m Marcus, one of the glaciologists.”

“Dr. Marcus Webb, of course I’ve heard about you, sir. An honor to meet you.”

He waved a hand. “Eh, I’m just an old geezer. Welcome to Waypoint.”

“Thank you. Have you been here long?”

“A few weeks. Your first time?”

“Yeah.”

He gestured to Grant. “You’re in good hands. He’s a pro and a legend around here.”

Grant snorted and shook his head. Clearly, they knew each other.

Marcus turned back to me, grinning. “I must say…I didn’t know you would be so young. And handsome.”

My face heated. He was at least twenty years my senior and was obviously pulling my leg.

“Am I right, Grant?”

“I knew.” Grant quipped.

Those bushy eyebrows climbed, and he looked mighty interested like an old lady who’d just snagged a juicy piece of gossip to share in her Sunday group. “Did you now? How?”

“We knew each other a long time ago.” I hurriedly interrupted.

“Well, it can’t be that long since you’re so young!” He cackled, pleased at his own joke.

“Seven years, three months and eleven days.” Grant supplied and then took another bite and kept eating while Marcus finally fell speechless.

And I just stared at my diving partner, thunderstruck.

At some point, Marcus must have left, but I didn’t register that.

We walked back to the cabin as the Antarctic twilight stretched across the sky, that strange half-light that never quite went dark this time of year. Grant walked beside me silently. My skin prickled with the awareness of his proximity.

At our cabin, we found a note taped to the door. I pulled it down and read:

Bed delivery canceled--weather grounded the supply flight. Apologies for the inconvenience.

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