“Yegor Pechkin works on the drilling crew. He started feeling ill yesterday. We had him resting in the medical room, trying to keep him isolated to the point where the virus wouldn’t spread.”
“He has a virus?”
“Doctor Kuvayev believes so, and he is our resident physician. This behavior, however, is quite unexpected.”
“Then why did you immediately suggest a tranquilizer?”
Sokolov sighed. “There are no large animals in Antarctica that could break in and make this kind of ruckus. He is in there alone. I am concerned about his safety, but ours as well. His actions sound quite violent, wouldn’t you agree?”
Kuvayev returned with a syringe in his big hand. “Here we go.”
Sokolov surveyed it critically. “What dosage do you propose?”
“Twenty milligrams benzodiazepine. Does that sound right?”
Sokolov dismissed the question. “You’re the doctor. How fast will that work?”
Another crash at the door.
“Not instantly, if that’s what you mean.”
“Very well. It’s what we have. Let’s try to determine what is happening without opening the door, if possible.”
“How do you propose to do that?” Francis asked doubtfully.
Sokolov stepped toward the door. “Let’s ask him.”
It took some effort for Hamlin to walk right up to it. He wasn’t feeling comfortable at all.
“Yegor Pechkin! Yegor, are you all right? It’s Doctor Sokolov.”
Silence was the only response.
“Yegor, we’re here to help you. Can you hear me?”
Again, not so much as a whisper.
“Do you think he might be unconscious? Perhaps he has injured himself.”
Sokolov considered this. “Perhaps.”
“Is the door somehow locked from the outside?” Hamlin asked. “Couldn’t he just open it and get out anytime?”
“Yes. It begs the question; why hasn’t he?” Sokolov weighed their options. As if on impulse, he suddenly reached out and knocked loudly on the door.
From in the room came the sound of furniture being thrown violently against the wall. Francis was really uncomfortable to know that the door wasn’t secured at all. Just simply shut.
“The bed is the only thing in there,” Kuvayev said in awe. “How could he be throwing it around like that?”
Hamlin nodded. “Good question.”
Sokolov looked more subdued than either of the others had ever seen.
“The pertinent question before us is—do we open this door and engage him, or not?”
“He could die or do very serious bodily harm to himself if we don’t intervene,” Kuvayev observed. “If he hasn’t already.”
“But what would he do to us if we do open that door?” Hamlin asked. He just didn’t feel like he knew enough to make a good decision one way or the other.
“I am concerned that he won’t engage us in dialogue,” Sokolov said.
“Or can’t,” Hamlin expanded.
“Look,” Kuvayev said. “I am bigger and heavier than Pechkin. I could rush in, grab him, and pin his arms. One of you take this needle. Just jam it into his thigh or shoulder—anywhere really, keeping the skeletal structure in mind. Pump it into him, and then we run back into the hall and shut the door. It won’t take long for this stuff to knock him out.”
Hamlin found he was still skeptical. “And then what? He’s going to wake up again sooner or later. What if he’s the same way?”
“Do we have any restraints?” Sokolov asked.
Kuvayev nodded his head. “Yes. We’ll have to get him on the gurney.”
Hamlin was even more horrified. “Why would you have restraints here?”
“It was a question, Doctor. Nothing more. It’s not that unusual. They could serve a multitude of perfectly normal purposes. Desperate times call for desperate measures.” Sokolov sighed in anticipation of the inevitable. “If you have another suggestion, this would be the optimal time to present it.”
Francis actually did a quick mental check. The shelves in his idea store were empty. One thought suddenly appeared.
“Should we get more help? Perhaps several other people in case this is more difficult than we imagine.”
Kuvayev had no response.
“It is my responsibility to oversee and maintain this facility. We are currently cut off from civilization and simply must survive on our own until closer to spring when the weather starts to improve. My concern is that we put more people at risk if we bring them down here. And there is another factor to consider, as well.”
Hamlin had no idea what that might be.
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
A dull thud came from the room. It was much less fierce than the others had been.
“Mental and emotional health are absolutely critical to our survival,” Sokolov answered. “It is no different than the isolation of being on the space station. Extensive psychological testing is done on every astronaut. If any one of us was to lose the ability to cope with the isolation and other stress factors of being here, the entire station would suffer greatly. And there would be little to nothing that we could do about it. At best, we would strive to ensure that the emotional malady didn’t spread to other members of our party. The affected person could easy suffer permanent damage before they could be returned to society for treatment. That is why we tolerate any number of mildly aberrant forms of behavior that can act as distractions and stress relievers. You would hardly imagine that I find it desirable to have two of my researchers having intercourse or doing God knows what in the laundry room while the rest of the team sits only a few feet away down the hall. But I would warrant a guess that you were not feeling stressed about being here while you were enjoying your little romp.”
“That’s true. At least until the crashing started.”
“If we expose more of our precious group to the possible but as of yet unknown horrors that lay waiting beyond this door, we could do permanent and devastating damage to the emotional state of this entire station. That must be avoided at all costs. That is why I sent them as far away as possible. And, my good doctors, that is why we may have to alter our story as to what happened here when this is all over.”
Hamlin was immediately offended. “You mean lie?”
“Yes, Doctor, I mean lie.” Sokolov sighed. “Look, why do you think I asked you out of all the others to come with us to help deal with this situation?”
Hamlin shrugged. “I’m more expendable?”
Sokolov had to smile despite their circumstances. “Not in the slightest. We wouldn’t have bothered to find you and fly you here if your presence wasn’t essential to our work. No, Doctor, in you I see a strong and emotionally stable person. I felt you could handle this stress better than any of the others.”
Hamlin was shocked. “Are you kidding? I wouldn’t have even considered coming here if I hadn’t been an emotional wreck. I had totally lost my focus and my life was a mess. Otherwise I’d be in a nice, hot climate doing research I love and hopefully spending the nights in my tent with the woman who I thought was going to be my life partner. I definitely wouldn’t be here.”
“Really, Doctor? Do you remember the list of side effects I quoted you when you first arrived? You’ve exhibited almost none of them. You made friends, or at least acquaintances, from the moment you walked in the door. You engage in virtually every activity available to us, but you are not obsessed or addicted to any of them. You utilize your sense of humor as a buffer against almost any kind of confrontation or issue. You have engaged in sexual behavior with at least two of our other members, yet you seem to have no possessiveness or paranoia regarding the other aspects of your relationship with them. You are, no doubt, the most stable person here. That is why I chose you, and that is why I don’t think the others could handle really bad news—if that is in fact what we find in here.”