Colder Than Ice Part 1

Colder Than Ice.

Helen Macpherson.

Allison Shaunessy is a woman on the edge. As an archaeologist with the Flinders Museum of Australasian Exploration, she and her team are racing against time to secure funding for an unprecedented excavation in Antarctica. She despairs when, despite her best attempts, she falls short of her financial goal.In America, Michela DeGra.s.se, a psychologist with the International s.p.a.ce Research Inst.i.tute, is involved with studying the interaction of humans in extreme environments. When Michela learns of the possibility of the Antarctic research, she attempts to join Allisons expedition but is met with resistance. Only the fact that she is able to provide the needed funding allows Michela to join the expedition to continue her studies. Allison and Michela instantly clash regarding the focus of the expedition and who should lead the team. They settle into a grudging working relations.h.i.+p that gradually deepens into a fragile friends.h.i.+p, but what they find at the expedition site defies all expectations. With hards.h.i.+p, extreme cold, and rivalry standing in their way, will the two women see past their own stubbornness long enough to allow their relations.h.i.+p to develop any further?.

Prologue.

Antarctica July 1896.

My Darling Charlotte, This will be my last entry for I am becoming too weak to write. After so many months of hards.h.i.+p and heartache, I grieve at the thought that I have led my men to their deaths, and I will soon join them. Lying here alone, I understand now where I failed and have endeavored to record these lessons for those who may find me, so that any future Antarctic expeditions will not suffer the same fate. It pains me to think that after so long I have achieved so little.

However, of all the pain I suffer now in silence, of all the loss we have experienced and the regret at not achieving what we set out to achieve, I have one regret above all else. That regret is that, Charlotte, I will never see your face again, your warm smile and your sparkling eyes. It pains me to think we shall never again share a cup of tea by the fire, discussing the everyday events that course through our lives. I will never again lie in the warmth of your arms, feel your soft caress, like b.u.t.terfly touches to my face and limbs. I know you cannot read this and I can only hope you can hear my thoughts. Please do not mourn for me my lovea"you are too young to sentence yourself to premature widowhood. Find someone new to share your life with. However, know this: I will always love you, until death and beyond.

E.R.F.

Antarctica, 2009a"nine days out of Wills Station.

THE VEHICLE, A barely discernible orange speck on the Antarctic landscape, made its slow, deliberate way across the white expanse. Inside, the rumble of the tractor made it difficult for Sarah Knight to catch the driver's words.

"I missed that, Rob. What did you say?" she shouted in his ear.

Without taking his eyes from the unchanging vista, Rob turned his head slightly and yelled, "I said, after days of traveling at this b.l.o.o.d.y slow pace, are we there yet?"

Sarah smiled. She'd previously worked with Rob and was used to his teasing questions. "Okay, enough. We're nearly there. Of course, lugging around an ice core drill that weighs as much as this one has slowed us down."

"Really? You don't say," he replied with light-hearted sarcasm. "I've dragged this baby around before and I'm intimately aware of how heavy the b.l.o.o.d.y thing is. I suppose what I should be asking is why not just take core samples from the Law dome, instead of coming all the way out here?"

"We're trying to do a comparative study of the information we've found in core samples from the Law dome with samples that are further along the inner coastal fringe. We're investigating the extent of damage done to the environment through the spate of worldwide nuclear tests conducted in the 1950s. Think of it as an integrity check of information collected from a site which has been relatively untouched by humans over the past hundred years." She slapped him on the shoulder, hardly registering against the multiple layers of clothing. "And besides, who else would I have out here except the best driller in all of Antarctica?"

Rob laughed. "Flattery will get you everywhere. It's just a shame you've never taken me up on the offer. We'd make a great team you and I. Me, the brawn, and you, the brains of the outfit."

Sarah shook her head in mock exasperation. "Mate, as I've told you before, there's one slight problem with that. You're not kitted with the gear for my kind of interests. And besides, how could you put up with my constant nagging? I'd drive you to drink in no time."

Rob spared Sarah a glance. "You can't say I didn't try. But you're right; you nag a bit too much for my liking. How do the ladies put up with you?" He dodged another blow from Sarah.

"You should know that women are always right. It's only men who can't do things correctly the first time."

"You keep on like that and you're likely to find yourself walking home. And trust me, it's a b.l.o.o.d.y long walk." He checked the instrument panel and scanned the area through the vehicle's icy windscreen. "By my calculations, I think we're where we need to be. Now, would Little Miss Perfect like to check that this mere male hasn't got it wrong?"

"Very funny." Sarah checked the readout against the data in her logbook. "If you just head over that way about another five hundred yards, we should be where we want to drill."

"Five hundred yards? Five hundred yards? We're in the middle of b.l.o.o.d.y nowhere and you want to move another five hundred yards? Thank G.o.d I've never moved house with you. I can just see it: 'No, just a little more to the left. No, too much. Just a little more to the right.' No man in his right mind would put up with you." Rob gave her a cheeky grin.

She grabbed a thatch of hair below his cap and pulled it hard. "Yeah. Just do as you're told mister brawn or I'll start doing this by inches."

"Ow! Just for that, I'm only going to go another four hundred and ninety yards. If you want this bad boy any closer you'll just have to get out and push." Despite his threat, Rob parked as close to the target position as possible.

As they climbed down from the vehicle, they took a moment to brace themselves against the biting cold of the wind that was a constant factor on the continent. They worked silently together, ensuring the stabilizing legs of the drill piece were in position before they took samples. Satisfied the drill was ready for operation, Rob checked the mechanics of the machine while Sarah looked over the drilling requirements for the sample to be taken.

aIf it's okay by you, I'd like to do a couple of samples about twenty yards apart." Sarah held up her hand at Rob's incredulous look. "I know. Call me a.n.a.l retentive, but I want to make sure the data we collect will be worth the trip."

"It better be worth it. Stuck for days having to listen to your voice is enough to drive anyone to drink." Rob ducked behind the safety of the drill as Sarah propelled a small chunk of ice at him. "Okay, okay. I give up. But before we start, we've been traveling over some pretty untidy terrain. Do you mind if I do a quick test drill to make sure everything's working? I'd hate to get down to any sort of depth and have the d.a.m.n thing seize on me."

"No. That's fine. It'll give me a chance to a.s.sess what the composition of the ice is like at this early depth. Let me get some photos and data on what we've found at the other sites and I'll be right with you." Sarah covered the ten yards from the drill to the door of the vehicle's front cabin. Struggling against the force of the wind, she opened the door and retrieved her backpack.

Not waiting for Sarah to return, Rob flicked the switch and brought the drill to life. He checked the blades encased in their t.i.tanium cylinder to ensure they were rotating before he positioned the drill to take its first bite of the ice.

Rob bore a small hole and was satisfied that the drill had not been affected by the long journey to the drill site. He raised the drill out of the hole in the ice, turned the machine off, and removed the test sample from its confines. He exchanged a surprised look with Sarah.

Sarah removed bits of a darkened material from the relatively blue-white hue of the rest of the specimen. "What the h.e.l.l is that?" She sniffed it and shook her head before taking a closer look. Bewildered, she turned to Rob. "What's wood doing in an ice sample?"

Rob took the specimen and sorted through it with a gloved finger. "I was just thinking the same thing. We're not on a historical site are we?"

Sarah walked the small distance from the hole, to where her pack lay on the ice. She removed from her pack the data relating to their drill site. "Have you got the GPS?" Rob nodded. "Can you do another check of where we are? I'll just recheck the maps to make sure I haven't misread them. There really shouldn't be anything in this location." She scratched her head in confusion.

They carefully checked and crosschecked their position, and validated it was correct. Both of them returned to the small hole and looked down into it. Rob scanned the immediate landscape for any clues and found none. "If we're in the right position, what's wood doing here? There're no records of early expeditioner's huts in this location. Plus, the depth where the wood appears in the core sample dates it from at least a century ago. So, come on, woman of multiple doctorates and child prodigy, what's your hypothesis?"

Sarah paced the ice. Possible answers entered her mind but were rationalized and just as quickly dismissed. She stopped pacing and her eyes widened before she shook her head. "No, it couldn't be. That was never substantiated."

Rob grasped Sarah's arm. "What was never substantiated? What are you talking about?"

Sarah broke out of the mental check and crosscheck she'd been running through and turned to Rob. "For as long as I've been involved in Antarctica and well before that, there's been talk of an expedition that was never proven to have taken place. It was thought to be the first expedition that ever settled on Antarctica. Many had circ.u.mnavigated the continent before it, but no one had ever established a base on the ice. It was supposedly headed by an explorer called Finlayson but n.o.body's ever found proof of his expedition."

Rob wrapped a well-padded arm around a perplexed Sarah. "I'd say they have now. I suppose that means no more drilling, hey?"

Chapter One.

My Dearest Charlotte, The meeting of the Sixth International Geographic Congress seems like a lifetime away and yet it has only been ten months. Do you remember how excited we were, gaining their blessing in support of my expeditiona"to be the first person to establish an expedition base on Antarctica? And here I am, a day's sailing from our last port of civilization, heading for the adventure that lies ahead for my faithful crew and myself. The people of Christchurch in New Zealand were very helpful, sometimes a little overly so. I have more lamb than I know what to do with; thankfully it has made cook happy. The New Zealand people's gracious provisioning of our coal and oil supplies were of extreme benefit and I shall not forget them when naming areas of the great white continent, or indeed in my memoirs when I arrive home.

Oh, my love, you should have seen the crowds; they lined the wharves ten deep in places! And the pleasure boats on the harbor, faring us well on our journey, were a sight to behold.

The swell rises, my dear, and so I must cut this entry short. I did send you and Robert junior a short letter before we sailed yesterday and by the time you receive it we should be well and truly established on Antarctica. My loving thoughts go out to you.

ERF.

Sydney, Australiaa"2009.

AS ALLISON SHAUNESSY ran up the well-worn steps of the Museum Station, she mentally berated herself for her late departure from home. She was well aware of the Museum's faculty meeting that morning, not to mention the items on the agenda. Today the faculty, under the iron guidance of the Museum's patron, would decide the key projects to be funded for the upcoming year.

Securing a position on the staff of the Flinders Museum of Australasian Exploration had been no mean feat. The doctorate in Archaeology Allison had gained from Sydney University certainly held her in good stead. This, coupled with the entree provided by Rick Winston, her partner of three years, had made the transition from academia to practical application of her knowledge that little bit easier. She'd worked hard to establish her own credible niche and, as time progressed, people ceased to refer to her as Rick's girlfriend and instead called her Dr. Shaunessy.

Allison took the hundred year old sandstone steps of the station two at a time, stubbornly ignoring the signs that her stamina was flagging. Without warning, she tripped and instinctively threw out her hands to break her fall. Almost simultaneously she watched her bag erupt as it hit the stairs, sending a stream of pens, papers, books, and fruit flowing back down the steps.

Allison gingerly rubbed the pain throbbing through her s.h.i.+n and hands and m.u.f.fled an embarra.s.sed curse. She carefully made her way back down the stairs, picking up everything and graciously thanking those people who returned to her the contents of her bag. At the bottom of the steps she found her grapefruit and orange, their progress halted by a newspaper stand. She shoved her bruised breakfast into her bag, shaking her head at how late for work she was now going to be. Deciding she may as well take the time to pick up the morning paper, Allison glanced at the tabloid flyer on of the newspaper stand and nearly dropped her bag again. Bold letters declared what she'd sought to prove for so long: FINLAYSON EXPEDITION NO LONGER A MYTH!.

She paid the owner for the paper and walked up the steps, this time one after another, her eyes eagerly scanning the article's contents. Nearly slipping again on the worn sandstone, she decided to stop reading until she'd emerged from the underground railway exit.

As Allison walked through Hyde Park, she barely noticed the beautiful autumn day that greeted her. The changing colors and the encompa.s.sing morning's warmth scarcely touched her awareness as she brusquely walked to work, nose firmly ensconced in the paper.

27 March 2009-Dateline Antarctica.

A random discovery made last week may well have laid to rest over a century of speculation surrounding the true existence of the first explorer to establish a base in Antarctica. The remains of an expedition's hut were found during ice core research, in an area previously recorded as not containing archaeological relics.

Dr. Sarah Knight, the glaciologist who made the discovery, said she'd never expected to find anything in such a remote location, some nine days from Wills Station. When she discovered wooden elements within a test ice core sample, she conducted a GPS check of the drilling location and confirmed that the position was not a historical site.

When asked to speculate on what the actual remains might be, Dr. Knight was confident in her reply. "We've mapped and recorded every explorer to have traversed the continent of Antarctica, with the exception of one who, until now, was thought to have perished in the Southern Ocean long before reaching Antarctica. I believe these remains can be no other than from the hut of Eric Robert Finlayson."

"Good morning, Dr. Shaunessy," Arthur Packham greeted.

Allison looked up from the newspaper and realized that she was in the Museum.

She grinned. "Hi, Arthur, how are you?" She always enjoyed chatting with Arthur, who was one of the museum's oldest and most well-informed guards, and, as always, smartly dressed in the charcoal grey uniform of the Museum's employees. Allison waved the newspaper at him. "Did you see the news this morning?"

Arthur smiled. "I'm fine, Dr. Shaunessy, and yes, I did. I'm sure you're very excited by this possible find."

"After so many years of speculation, it looks as if my research has been vindicated. My theory regarding his supply s.h.i.+p must have been correct. They did manage to unload both men and cargo onto land and then the s.h.i.+p must have perished on the return journey," Allison said wryly, and shook her head. "The odds of finding the hut's location are astronomical. I'd love to speak with this Sarah Knight and see if there're any other telltale signs around the site."

Arthur tapped his watch in gentle remonstration of Allison's enthusiasm. "Now that you mention talking to people, Dr. Shaunessy, isn't there a faculty meeting today?"

Allison scowled and lightly cursed as she trotted to the elevator, leaving a chuckling Arthur behind her. She turned to give him a quick wave goodbye and smiled. His attention was already focused on a small girl, who tugged on the hem of his jacket. From inside the elevator, Allison watched the scene and softly laughed at Arthur's patience with children as the doors quietly closed.

ALLISON DUMPED HER gear on the desk in her office in the rear area of the Museum and wheeled for the door. She'd barely taken two steps when she ran into a six-foot-two immovable object, the scent of its aftershave unmistakable.

Rick Winston took a step back and absorbed the impact by encasing Allison in his arms. "Ooof! Alli, where are you going in such a hurry? And where's my good morning kiss?"

Allison disentangled herself enough to brush Rick's lips. "I'm as late as all h.e.l.l. The alarm wasn't set this morning, I woke up late, missed my train, and then dropped everything on the way to work and now I find out that part of my thesis may have been proven. And, of course, to make matters worse, I'm late for the only appointment I need to keep on a regular basis."

Rick gently shook Allison's shoulders. "Slow down or you'll burst something. Old Pedant Peterson was held up leaving Melbourne. His plane was fogged in and he's not due for another twenty minutes or so. Come into my office and we'll have a cup of coffee and compare notes." He stepped out of the embrace and headed down the hallway.

Allison resignedly sighed at the way he naturally expected her to follow him.

"You do remember the purpose of the meeting today don't you," Rick called over his shoulder before entering the wood-paneled room of what could only be the office of a man.

Allison rolled her eyesa"as if such an important meeting could be forgotten. The faculty members of Flinders had only been preparing papers for it for the past two months. And now, the one paper she should have had ready to present wasn't ready at all. "Of course I do. Today is the day old Peterson spreads his largess over the unwashed ma.s.ses, namely us. What have you heard about the projects the old geezer's likely to sponsor this year?"

Rick's eyes quickly flitted toward his open door and then back at Allison. "For Christ's sake, Alli, keep your voice down. I suspect the old man already knows that you think he's an ignorant prat, without you calling him names. The last thing you want is for someone to hear you."

Allison flung her head back and then forward, her short brown locks falling into her eyes. She impatiently brushed them away. "What, like blimbo you mean?"

Rick stifled a laugh. "You're going to get yourself in so much trouble one of these days. Di will hear you and then that'll be the end of it."

Allison insolently shrugged. "Well, what would you call her? All that flouncy, curly long blonde hair and a body shape like an advance party for a famine. As for her wardrobe, what self-respecting academic would be caught dead looking like they'd stepped off the pages of a fas.h.i.+on magazine?" She shuddered. "Ugh. The woman makes my skin crawl."

Rick laughed and gently closed his door. Walking past Allison, he playfully ruffled her hair with his fingers. "You, my dear, have a terminal case of non-diplomatic foot and mouth disease." He poured steaming filtered coffee into two mugs and handed one to Allison. "About the possible projects to be considered at the meeting today, I've heard of the combined proposal from the meteorology and geology department; I think it's called the Simpson project. Have you heard of any others?"

Allison sat down and nodded as she took a long sip of her first coffee of the day, its strong aroma teasing her senses. "Hmm, the Simpson Project. If I was a betting woman and given the amount of discussion at last year's meeting, I'd say it's a shoe-in. There're also others. One is the Mungo Project. It's a dual one between the Palaeontological and the Anthropological departments. They've taken a holistic approach and pooled their resources in order to study the ancient environment, its fossils, and the culture of prehistoric man existing during that era. I've no doubt that tightwad Peterson will be more than willing to support two outcomes for the price of one."

Rick nodded. "You're right. It seems to be the way things are these days. Man, I liked it so much better when the Departments were at each other's throats. Divide and conquer, that's what it should be about."

Despite the logic in Rick's words, Allison was unsettled by the vehemence of his tone. She cared little about how many academic departments there were to a project. To her it made sense to pool projects where possible. She filed away his reaction for a later discussion. "There's one other and it's almost guaranteed to receive funding. About two hundred and fifty miles southwest of Riversleigh they've found another dinosaur field that rivals Dinosaur National Park in the States. By all accounts it's an ancient water basin, full of pristine fossils."

Rick drew his eyebrows together. "I don't get it. We dug at Riversleigh years ago and got a mountain of samples out of there. Why bother doing the same thing again?"

Allison smiled at Rick's sometimes single-minded approach to life. "Yes, we did, and got some excellent samples in the process. Stop and think. Where's Riversleigh?"

Rick gave her a perplexed look. "Riversleigh is in the middle of Peterson's brother's electorate. Remember, he's the sitting member? What better way in an election year to secure re-election than to ensure a guaranteed injection of funds into the community?" Allison sipped her coffee. "Aside from those, I don't know of any other projects."

Rick shook his head. "Then why are we wasting our b.l.o.o.d.y time this morning? We all know the old man only funds three projects a year. This meeting's a done deal."

Allison nervously s.h.i.+fted. "Not exactly. There's another project I'd like to table, but given my paper's incomplete, I may require the support of others."

Rick frowned and then his eyes widened. "You've got to be kidding. Have you anything you can put in front of the old man about the Finlayson expedition? You know he's a stickler for detail and he's not likely to be too happy with a verbal briefing."

"If I'd have known what this morning's headlines would be then I'd have been prepared months ago. This vindicates key elements of my thesis." She stood up and paced the small office. "Even though the University Faculty accepted my exposition, I could see doubt on the faces of some of the Panel. There can be no better closure than to go down there and conclusively prove Finlayson's presence as the first person to expedition on the Continent."

Rick caught Allison's hand and gently pulled her to him. "Calm down. You've got my support and I've no doubt in the excitement of the moment you'll have the support of others in the meeting. But you've got to present this as diplomatically as possible and you know you're not good at that. Choose your words carefully or you'll never have a chance with this. In the extreme case he says yes, are you sure you can pull this off? I mean, Antarctica isn't like the middle of Australia. The expedition cost alone is going to be astronomical."

"Don't you think I know that? If I can just get some sort of commitment from him I know I'll find a way. Can you imagine the excitement of such a project?" Allison managed to stop herself before she yet again launched into her pet topic. She caught Rick's barely stifled yawn. "What happened to you last night? I thought you were coming over to my place?"

Rick stifled another yawn. "Sorry about that, I got caught up here at work and, given my apartment's only two blocks away, I went home instead."

Allison opened her mouth to ask about the project that had kept him so late when the telephone rang.

"Flinders Museum of Australasian Exploration, Dr. Rick Winston speaking. He is? We're on our way. Thank you, bye." Rick hung up and grabbed the half-full cup of coffee from his desk. "The old man's arrived, so we best get a move on."

With a determined glint in her eye Allison took a step toward the door. Rick put himself in the doorway, halting her progress.

"What's wrong?" Allison asked.

Rick pushed a stray lock from Allison's eyes. "Remember what I said. I'll support you, but you've got to present your case clinically and don't rise to his goading. Don't interrupt me, you know he does. Let's get going." Rick patted her backside and pushed her out the door in the direction of the conference room.

Being the last to arrive in the deeply stained wood-paneled room, Allison and Rick took their seats at the antique cedar table.