The plane came in low over the white runway and gently touched down. Kathryn, and the thirty-four researchers behind her, sat forward and began gathering their things. The plane taxied off the runway and stopped in front of a small terminal building. Bags were grabbed and the passengers shuffled out and down the stairs. Several large vans were waiting to receive them and everyone scattered to the nearest vehicle, throwing their bag up into the roof rack and quickly jumping inside the heated interiors.
Once loaded, all of the vehicles headed out in a single file line, driving half a mile to a giant nondescript hanger. A large door opened as they approached, and all seven vehicles drove inside and parked. The door was quickly closed behind them.
Kathryn climbed out of the lead van and stepped down onto the building’s smooth concrete floor.
“Ms. Lokke?” asked a man approaching from the center of the hangar. His accent was distinctly New Zealand. “I’m Steven Anderson,” he said extending his hand.
Kathryn slipped off her glove and shook it. “Hi Steven, we meet at last,” she replied with a smile. “Thanks for all your team’s help on this.”
“Ah our pleasure,” Anderson nodded. “That ice quake scared the daylights out of us too. Besides,” he turned his head motioning behind him, “it’s nice to have the company.”
She turned and waved her staff over.
“Well, the good news,” Anderson said, “is that you’ve got the best weather possible. Should have clear skies for the next six or seven days. Probably get all the way up to minus 5 or 6 degrees Fahrenheit.”
“What a relief,” moaned Jason Haines, walking up behind Kathryn. Jason was one of the newest and youngest geologists to join the USGS. He had been there just thirteen months, yet was one of the first to volunteer for the trip.
She introduced the two and waited for the others. His team had assembled the two dozen snow mobiles and arranged for the transport planes that would drop the researchers, and all of their supplies, off at the Ronne Ice Shelf. Anderson’s team would act as their guides.
Anderson went over the plan explaining how Kathryn and her team would split up into ten groups and try to cover the length of the giant slide in five days, getting as much information as possible. At the end of the five days, they would have exact measurements on the extent of the slide, strata samplings for subsurface composition and density, any signs of lateral slide, and a host of other pieces of data. If all went well, it would arm Kathryn with enough hard data to show the White House just how dangerous this situation was.
Jason Haines, still standing next to Kathryn, raised his hand with a question. Anderson nodded and Haines spoke up. “How often are we to be in contact?”
Anderson spoke up to make sure he was heard by everyone. “Communication will be constant.” He motioned to several of his team members standing behind him. “As you know, each team of three will be accompanied by a guide. My men know the area well and are as comfortable in these conditions as anyone can be, if you want to call it comfortable.” Anderson’s accent projected a friendly tone, but he and all of the men had a hardened look that was all business. “A small supply outpost will be located on the shelf in a central location. Your guides will be talking to them every fifteen minutes with coordinates and a team status. It does not take long out here to freeze to death, so do not get lost. If any team is not heard from for more than twenty minutes, a reconnaissance crew will be dispatched immediately, and they will begin trying to reestablish contact while in transit.” Anderson paused for just a moment to make sure everyone was listening. He reminded Kathryn of a sergeant explaining a detailed exercise to his unit. “As soon as they reestablish contact they will turn around and head back to the outpost. If they do not reestablish contact, they will be to you within 30 minutes. If you see us coming across the ice stop and wave your arms as high as you can. It can be very hard to see, even with a very small amount of haze.” He looked over the small group. “Next question?”
Another of Kathryn’s team raised their hand, a woman named Ruppa Tadri, one of her best seismologists. She looked around shyly. “What if we need some…privacy?”
Anderson smiled. “This is the Antarctic. If you get lost and fall down a hole you may be dead before we find the hole. Believe me, you do not want privacy!” A nervous laugh ran through the group. “Don’t be shy, ladies and gentlemen, you may feel a little embarrassed at first, but it is far more important that we can see you at all times.” He paused again before continuing. “The good news is that we have excellent weather this week. If the wind is calm we will provide a small round tent for anyone feeling particularly self-conscious. And let me answer what is likely your next question, dig a deep hole and bury it. You can use this.” Anderson held up a small mountain climbing pick. “You will all have one of these and we will give you some basic instructions. I guarantee you will find this to be your best friend during your time on the shelf.” Anderson smiled again. “Next question?”
After another twenty minutes of questions and answers, Anderson led the team out the side of the hanger to another building a couple hundred yards away. The mess hall was anything but a mess hall. The dining area was over twenty thousand square feet and held dozens of comfortable chairs and tables. On the far side of the room was a large viewing area with four satellite televisions surrounded by almost as many couches. Half of the room was a giant sun room decorated with many different kinds of plants from all over the world. If Kathryn’s team was surprised at the dining area, they were stunned by the meals that came out of the kitchen, including salads loaded with fresh greens and vegetables, all grown locally in one of the McMurdo’s large hydroponic gardens. There was even fresh fruit from hydroponic citrus trees. This was clearly the hub of the station.
Tadri approached Kathryn with an empty plate. She was on her way back to the kitchen for seconds. “Kathryn, aren’t you going to eat anything?”
“Huh, oh right,” Kathryn replied absently. She realized that she had been thinking so much about the next several days that she was still standing in the same place, holding her plate.
“Are you alright?” Tadri asked.
“Oh…yes. Thanks. I’m just thinking about everything.”
Tadri smiled. “Well try to take a break. We have to be up at four a.m.”
She was right. Kathryn had to find a way to stop obsessing. They were barely going to get enough sleep as it was before an early morning breakfast and airlift. The last thing she needed was to be up half the night before heading into one of the toughest weeks she would have in years.
She patted Tadri on the arm and followed her into the kitchen.
The next morning after a large breakfast, Kathryn’s team assembled and boarded three of the same C130 aircraft they had arrived on. Each plane had been packed with three teams and their supplies. The last plane, which Kathryn was on, held a fourth team. Thirty minutes after boarding, the planes were airborne and headed for the ice shelf. The team members huddled together for warmth next to their bags and supplies which sat in front of eight large snowmobiles. Through the window, the sun was slowly rising from the horizon where it remained during the night, low yet always in daylight during Antarctica’s summer months.
Kathryn looked around at the faces of her team. She was surprised to see an edge on their faces that they did not have the day before. Probably the acceptance that they were here now and there was no turning back. She felt a sense of pride that many of her researchers had volunteered to come when they heard the White House’s, or more specifically, the National Security Advisor Stevas’ response to her warning.