The heavy canvas bags were speedily taken off him and their contents greeted with approval. The bottles had been wrapped in cloth to prevent clinking, and one of vodka was opened immediately.
‘No — no time for that!’ Komarova said. ‘The pilot has to get off. What complaints are here? How’s everybody?’
The complaints were the normal ones: sprains, sores, inflamed eyes. But one of the women was pregnant, and Komarova took time examining her behind a screen. She examined others there too, and he kept careful check of the time, calling it out to her. It was after three o’clock, now totally dark and less than two hours before the predicted blizzard. The plan needed the pilot to be able to take off, and his radio could still ground him.
‘All right, I’m coming,’ she called back, and presently was hurrying out. ‘But Evdokia, you’re coming with me. I want you checked in hospital. And Igor, too. That back looks a disc problem. And more vitamins are needed here — too many sores. I’ll send supplies tomorrow. And the instructions with them. There’s no time now, no time!’ And out they went, struggling against the wind to the helicopter: the pregnant woman, the man with the bad back, Medical Officer Komarova, and her assistant from the transport company.
‘What’s this?’ the pilot shouted, as they clambered aboard. ‘How many of you?’
‘Just two patients and us.’
‘What, two patients and you? Two patients and you two make four. With me five. The machine carries four!’
‘You’ve carried five before.’
‘In high winds, with a blizzard coming? No way. One of them stays.’
‘These patients have to be in hospital!’
‘Then let him stay!’
Which he did, after some angry words.
So far, so good.
The childish story, still to come, was another matter.
Innokenty he had spotted immediately. The headman had sat smoking his pipe on the carpet while the medical examinations were carried out.
‘I never heard anyone speak the Evenk tongue so,’ the old man said, ‘not any stranger. How does it come about?’
Porter told him, and he told them all, over a venison dinner and ample drink, how it came about. He told of his childhood in Chukotka, of the schoolteacher father, of Novosibirsk and the Evenk friends he had met. How in the big town he had almost forgotten his own tongue, but his Evenk friends, true souls, had not forgotten theirs, and of how it had almost become his. Of his hankering for the north, and his driving experiences ever since. They were charmed by him, and charmed also at his interest in their own lives. Every aspect interested him, and they gladly answered all questions.
No, they didn’t remain in the one place; that was plainly impossible with such a large herd, over two thousand beasts. The reindeer grazed the moss under the ice. They grazed it and were moved on every few days. No problems. A small party dismantled the tents and carried them ahead and re-erected them. The same with firewood: every week or so a party would go south to a great woodstack nearer the timber line and collect it. Sure, on sleds, you harnessed up a couple of reindeer; wonderful beasts. They carried you, clothed you, fed you. Better than beef. And cheaper to produce than beef, and fetching better prices! Yes, everywhere, all over Russia, and Japan too, and God knew where else. The collective did all that.
He didn’t know the collective? Novokolymsk. All that work was done there, the carcase-handling, packing, despatch, accounts. They went back there themselves regularly. A big helicopter came and transferred them. One party went back, another party came out. The schoolchildren stayed at the collective, of course; only came out to the herds for holidays. No, not everybody returned regularly; Innokenty didn’t, and many of the older folk also. They preferred the wandering life, didn’t feel the need for television, videos, parties. All that was for the younger ones. But a good life for everybody, a natural one, full of variety.
Indeed, he said, indeed it was. And he’d heard they also found time to fit in work at the docks in the summer. How did they fit all that in?
How did they fit it in? They could fit anything in. They were free. They did what they wanted. And it wasn’t the only thing they fitted in. They also worked regularly at a science station up in the hills.
Ah yes! He knew about that. Had actually met a couple of them when he’d freighted a load to the guard post there a few weeks ago. He explained the situation, to their very great interest Which Evenks were they? Well, he hadn’t caught their names, but from his description it was generally agreed who they must be — and what a pity they weren’t here to greet him. They wouldn’t be down for a week yet. Yes, the same system, one party came back and another went up to replace them.
Truly an interesting life, he said, admiringly. And he regretted not having picked up any science himself. They’d had a scientific training, had they, the people who went up there?
This occasioned a great deal of laughter, and also another round of drinks.
You wouldn’t call it science, old Innokenty said, smiling. Just honest work — cleaning, laundry, cooking, maintenance. And the heating, and such things. Scores of people had to be looked after up there, a big government station, scientists, guards — yes, stinking heads. You didn’t have much to do with them. And they had nothing to do with Tchersky or Green Cape. All their supplies came from far away, thousands of kilometres. Which the Evenks offloaded and shifted, too. But not to the people below, of course. All the science happened below, and nobody was ever allowed there.
‘Only my Stepanka!’ exclaimed a very old lady, smoking her pipe and nodding.
‘Of course Stepanka. But nobody else.’
‘Who’s Stepanka?’ asked the Chukchee.
‘Her son. Stepan Maximovich. He looks after the boss of the place — took over his father’s job when he died. It’s in their family. He lives there. And he has a wife, not old, but beyond child-bearing age so they let him take her. For his natural needs,’ Innokenty said, winking.
‘Ah. Aren’t there any other women there?’
‘No, none.’
‘So what do the rest of them do for — you know?’
More laughter. Well, with the guards there was no problem. They were shifted regularly — in fact a new crew would be on next week. As for the scientists, a party of them went out, every couple of months — to opera houses, concert halls, things of that kind. They got private boxes, and various stinking heads had to go with them. But Stepanka thought they were given a ration of the other as well, it was only right.
Oh, they got to see Stepanka, did they?
Of course they got to see him. Stepanka had to know how his family was getting on — and all his people! And they were trusted. They were the only outsiders trusted. They wouldn’t trust any white workers in there. Or Yukagir or Chukchees, for that matter. No offence to Chukchees, it was just a different way of life in these parts. And the Yukagir could never keep to timetables. They were out scouting their traplines all winter. Go and find them! No, the Evenks with their regular herds were the only ones the authorities took. And they took them from the herds, not the collective. Took them and brought them back to the herds, so they shouldn’t contact anybody in between. That was the way of it with stinking heads.
Well, a fascinating life, he said. But where was the opera house in Tchersky they’d mentioned, or the concert hall? He hadn’t found these places yet.