Earth-1779 - Green/Primus sheaf

Divergence: January 18th, 1840 (221LY)

Gates: Moscow, Manhattan, Beijing, Constantinople, Amsterdam

Local calendar: April 8th, 2029 (410LY)

1. In Adélie Land

His boots made a crunchy sound when they hit the packed snow. The rest of the team jumped down from the birotor. Terry Taylor gave its enormous blades a wide berth as he moved slightly away.

The team made a line and started unloading cargo. Half the hold of the small plane was filled with crates and bags, food, tools, and supplies for the base, and they had to unload it as fast as possible.

A bunch of people came out of the concrete buildings joining them and making a second line to unload the plane’s contents faster. With all the newcomers, the task proceeded at an accelerated pace. No sooner had the last crate left the hold than the locals gathered, exchanged large hugs, and a dozen of them picked boxes and luggage and hopped into their lift.

And just like that, Terry and the dozen or so of his crewmates were left on the landing pad as the plane turned on the flat frozen runway, and started. It rose and immediately veered south, toward the D’Urville port on the other side of Antarctica.

As they turned toward the current crew, a silent hauler came out from behind one of the buildings. Terry was surprised at the silence, but he realized immediately that it would almost certainly run on power crystals. The Labyrinth aether-driven sources might be more expensive due to rarity than normal fuel for everyday use, but in a remote and hostile environment like the southern continent, they justified their price in utility, as you wouldn’t have to replace them from wear for years, if not a decade. The driver came next to the pile of supplies, turning at the last moment, and everyone pitched in again, moving the crates, barrels, and bags on the flatbed.

Then they trudged across the packed snow paths to the side of the nearest buildings and piled into the main entrance hall. Everyone immediately opened their parka as the wall heaters turned on. Besides the crystal-powered units, the walls were bare concrete, with only a “Davis Base” 2029 calendar tacked in the middle, with today circled in red with a “Rota” label.

“Okay, everyone. I’m going to call you one by one and pair you with a current crew for introduction, room, and stuff. We’ll have full reception with real booze this evening, and you’ll have more time to socialize then.”

“Reece Cox!”

A small man stepped forward and was immediately whisked away by a goateed man with big glasses.

“Alia Dale?”

The large woman that he’d spotted at the gym during the final acclimation at D’Urville stepped and got immediately intercepted by a woman with… pigtails? Really?

The call went out, and there were only two people left when the man called out, “Terry Taylor!”

“Okay, you’re coming with me, we’ll head immediately to the commander. And you must be Justice Walters,” he added.

The woman laughed, “I know the parka hides stuff, but come on.”

The man raised his clipboard in mock apology, then turned toward Terry as the last pair departed. Terry was surprised when, instead of giving him a normal handshake, he turned his palm upward, offering his wrist.

A level 1 Breaker. Interesting.

“Yes, you’re my replacement. I’m heading out with the last rotation before wintering, in four weeks. I would have been… disappointed if you’d be missing.”

“Well, here I am.”

“Welcome to Davis Base, Watcher.”

“Terry. The specific Profession doesn’t matter, after all.”

The plate on the door said “Zachary Armstrong - Director”. The base commander’s office looked like any official office. Desk, meeting table, plush office chairs, plates celebrating both the base and Antarctica in general and a few pictures of the current commander. The man himself rose and shook Terry’s hand normally, as the two took a seat.

“Greetings, Taylor, and welcome to the Davis American Antarctica Base. Don’t try the acronym, because everyone will tell you it’s pronounced in a different way instead, even though they just used it.”

Terry’s eyebrows rose.

“You’ll notice quickly we do stuff differently around. You need that, notably during the winter when there’s little outdoor activity. So, the rule is, joke, always, practical jokes, never.”

Terry’s interrogative stance turned to a frown.

“Too much risk of things going wrong, or, worse, animosity. So, I’m serious here. Get caught doing a practical joke, and I call for an emergency evac of your ass, which gets charged to your account. Good luck paying that amount in less than a decade.”

“Got it.”

“Otherwise, congratulations, you’re now the official gofer for the next year, just like Wesley was for the past one.”

“It’s about time,” Wesley quipped.

“So tired of us, Wesley?”

“My brother’s keeping my future job in the icer. I’d hate to disappoint him by not thawing myself.”

“What’s he going to do if you didn’t show up? Stop inviting you for Thanksgiving?”

“No chance, we usually do that at mum’s home,” Wesley replied, half laughing.

“Anyway, Terry, what prompted you for this posting?”

“Geology. I’m starting a Ph.D. next year, and I got deferred service till that, after asking for this extension beyond the base year. Differences in geological formation under various ice pressure is a good thesis subject, and I get a head start that way.”

“Well, I don’t know who sold you on a year of adventure, but don’t expect field trips,” Armstrong replied.

“Why?”

“Regulations. Unless there’s an emergency at some temporary site – and those never happened on my watch – you’re supposed to be on duty here.”

“Told you you’d be a gofer,” Wesley added.

Seeing Taylor’s face, the director offered a suggestion.

“Mind you, there’s a lot of work going on in the labs on site. That’s where everything is analyzed, at least the bits that aren’t shipped out. You can find plenty of work and interesting science there, even if you’re not present for the collecting.”

“That’s…”

“Unromantic. Real science, which we do here at Davis, isn’t glamorous. Usually.”

The three men kept chatting for a bit until Armstrong finally ended the meeting.

“Wesley, you’ll show Terry his room, and do a quick general visit. Don’t forget the evening buffet.”

“Fat chance. I hear we have a Russian special.”

“Spirit of cooperation and all that. See you two then.”

2. Icebreaker

The bar-cafeteria of the Davis base had been normal-looking when he’d been through there as Wesley Tarrant showed him the important parts of the base, crossing from building to building through the protection tunnels. But now, it was adorned with paper ribbons of tsarist colors, black, yellow, and white, eagles – of the two-headed kind, not the American ones – and even some silvery samovars. Which, on closer inspection, turned out to be suspiciously looking like some basic teapots with aluminum foil and glued flimsy handles.

People were starting to come out, but the capacity of the room was ample, given the dwindling numbers on site for the approaching austral winter. The man behind the bar, vaguely Asiatic looking, was busy mixing large quantities of spirits and juices.

Finally, the base commander stepped forward, cleared his throat, and started a speech.

“Well, I welcome our new contingent at Davis. They’ve all opted to join us for this winter season, which is the most challenging part of life on the base, so they should all be congratulated on the best choice.”

There was a large round of applause, which Terry joined almost immediately.

“They even picked the best day, since it’s been seventy-five years since the Antarctica Treaty was signed by the Five Nations…”

“The date was yesterday,” a voice shouted from the side.

“… more or less, under the auspice of Tsar Constantine II, which I assume is why we have this theme…”

The barman frenetically waved “no” behind the commander’s back, which drew a burst of laughter, causing the director to frown.

“Since then, we all have joined this great human adventure on Earth, without distinction of nation, and we will learn more in the next seventy-five years.”

He paused briefly, before adding, “Now, this will be my last time with you all. This spring, I’ll take my leave of the base after eight years. My replacement, Professor François Sutton, will arrive on the first rotation later this year. He’s a veteran, he’s been there before for geology, and apparently, liked that so much he’s coming back.”

There was an enormous laugh at that.

“But of course, he’s not about to spend a winter with us needlessly, so while we wait, let’s show everyone we can do without him. Assuming someone can tell me what all that food is, that is.”

The barman started again to signal his denial, but the director whipped around and caught him in the act, to everyone’s laughter, and then the crowd started to split and head to the various plates of exotic snacks or straight to the bar where glasses were waiting.

“I wish we had that kind of theme celebration when I arrived,” a voice said to Terry’s left.

He turned to find a red-headed woman with a large sweatshirt showing the Davis base emblem of a seal with a stylized map above its nose and a line on top with the four lines “one mile north, one mile east, one mile south, all for nothing.”

“Uh?”

“I arrived here four weeks ago with the previous rotation, but the barman – that’s Terry Nobira – was coming back from vacation with the same batch. So… plain welcome reception with bottled beer and straight bourbon.”

She made a grimace showing what she thought of the reception format.

“That’s his idea?” Terry asked.

“Apparently, he’s famous for his theme nights. He’s been around for three years now, and all the veterans love him.”

“Well, you’re a veteran. Compared to me, that is.”

“Guessed that, since I’ve seen pretty much all of the eighty valiant souls staying for the winter.”

“Terry Taylor. TT or Terry,” he said.

“Cynthia Brennan. Deep biology Ph.D.”

“Geology grad.”

“Yikes. They take them young these days.”

“Starting my Ph.D. next year after I leave. I’m trying to get a leg up with this year on-site.”

“It’s not part of your Ph.D.?” she asked, looking surprised.

“No. This is an off-year, and I’m trying to make the most out of it. This is a perfect opportunity, hopefully. But for now, I’m here as a gofer.”

“Oh,” she said. “Oh. You’re The Gofer.”

“That’s me.”

And just like that, his chances of getting anonymous were gone.

But well, Terry could hardly hide for a year.

Having picked a couple of round micro-pancakes with a kind of sour cream, Terry managed to make his way to the crowded bar, as people snatched various drinks before clustering all around.

“What’re you looking for?” asked the barman.

“Don’t know anything about Russian stuff, so…”

A voice to Terry’s right interrupted him.

“And you can go all in. He’s my replacement.”

Wesley slid in place next to him, grabbing a large glass full of clear spirit, ice, and lime slices.

“Ohhh. My next challenge? Nice to meet you,” the barman replied.

“I’m Terry Taylor.”

“Going to need a distinction between you two, Nobira,” Wesley quipped.

“There’s only one Terry, and that’s me. You’ll have to find something else, boy… now let’s see… what’s your Stamina at?” Nobira said, gauging the Watcher.

“Uh… Fifteen?”

“Average, like that guy. Good baseline. Let’s start.”

Terry found himself facing a large glass of slightly yellowish spirit, with a… flower… in it?

“Siberian Vodka. Locally made.”

“If it’s local, it’s hardly Siberian,” Wesley noted.

“It’s all made from perfectly fine Russian ingredients. And based on the traditional recipes from the tundra. So there.”

Terry eyed the enormous glass with some slight worry.

“I don’t have to worry about you Enhanced having hangovers or alcohol poisoning the next day, so I want to see how much I can get you to drink before you pass out. With the same Stamina, it won’t be cheating against Wes.”

“What’s the record?”

“Not telling.”

The first swallow was liquid fire. And zero indication of a status effect, which meant it was fine, despite that burn.

“Wow.”

“That’s the Russian special, only for the best of the base. Welcome to Davis. Don’t worry, I keep track of your tab on normal days.”

Wesley dragged him into various groups, introducing Terry to more crew than he’d seen during the official tour. Lásló, the head of the maintenance team promised him he wouldn’t fight too hard for his time against Professor Edwards, the geology department head. He quickly noticed that each group tended to gravitate back to the bar once he arrived and realized the game of “get the Enhanced drunk” wasn’t just being played by the barman. Well, there were worse forms of hazing. He could take it.

Mild intoxication. -2 AGI/DEX/PER/FOC, -3INT/WIS (68 min)

He had no skills to fight that, and it wasn’t as if the only one he’d picked by chance, rank-zero Gauge Enemy would help in any form. But at least he could track the progression of the alcohol in his blood.

Terry finally found himself gravitating toward a small group of half a dozen relative newcomers. All had arrived in the previous one or two months, across a variety of departments. Even including one in the so-called maintenance team he met earlier that evening.

“The claims around are mostly accidents of history,” Brennan was saying. “That’s why you get the Russian slice next to South America, while the Dutch claims are angled toward the Indian Ocean, and the American sector is next to Australia.”

“Makes it awkward. But D’Urville isn’t a Russian part…” a black woman said.

“The whole peninsula is international sector. The Caliphate is using their own landing, but even China found it more useful to put their extension there rather than build an entire service base closer to the rest of their own bases,” the maintenance man countered.

“Which helps us get this fine stuff,” another man countered, raising his glass. “Supply swaps for the win.”

“I thought they picked the territories at random?” Terry asked while nursing the last of his current drink. The Agility debuff value had finally caught up with the Intellect level, and he was starting to get woozy, something that hadn’t happened in four years since he’d crossed the Gate. But you wouldn’t know from his speech.

“The bowl picking by Constantin II is pure legend,” Brennan countered. “They actually voted in rounds until they got a consensus.”

“Sucks to be a minor power. No Antarctica for you,” the maintenance man – Luca… something – said.

“Are there really any left today?” Terry asked.

“Not really. Makes you wonder how the treaty could have ended. I did a minor paper on it, highlighting the factors that would affect True History.”

“Oh?”

“Did a minor in History – yes, History – along with the Biology major,” she said. “But no time for that now that I’m pushing my Ph.D.”

“Did a minor in Chemistry along with Geology,” Terry noted.

“Talk about safe”, a woman said, to which Terry shrugged.

The party was almost over, and the cafeteria was near empty. Terry raised his hand in denegation as other-Terry started to prepare a new glass of something else.

“Tapped out. More and I’ll drop down,” he said – did he slur? Terry was sure he didn’t. His status had numbers that didn’t even make sense, or Wisdom might be negative for the first time in the recorded history of the Labyrinth.

“You Enhanced aren’t fun. Always know when to stop.”

“Did I get the record?”

“Not close,” Wesley’s voice came next to him.

“Don’t worry, you have a year to win,” the barman cheerfully informed him.

3. Nightfall

The birotor – the same one Terry had taken four weeks ago – was at last empty, and the dozen and half people scheduled to return were taking their leave.

He grabbed Wesley’s arm through the parka, which didn’t even yield a descriptor.

“Good return, Breaker,” he said.

“Good stay, Watcher,” the man replied, before hoisting his bag and jumping up into the cargo hold.

Then he turned and joined the crowd starting to load the sled with the last supplies for the winter. In a couple of weeks, the sun would no longer leave the horizon, then the full night would reign supreme for the next three months. Davis station was at his winter levels now, seventy-eight people.

That made for a really roomy cafeteria, he thought, as he made his way to the main station entrance. Then, he started to call out the newcomers, to assign them their orientation partners.

The cafeteria was still undecorated. Terry, or universally TT these days, knew the other-Terry had planned a “Southeast Asia” theme for the welcoming party later this evening, but there was no trace of any kind for the mid-day lunch.

As often, he found himself seated at a table with just Cynthia. It hadn’t taken long for people to gravitate to various cliques. The biggest split was support versus research. It was more balanced during the winter, but researchers tended to talk about work most of the time, so they favored themselves. As an official Gofer, but also semi-attached to Geology – the head of the department had been happy to find himself an unexpected graduate to help – he straddled the two groups but kept associating himself with the science more than the maintenance.

“How’s stuff going?” Terry asked in between forkfuls of mashed potatoes.

“It’s still the cataloging phase. We have all winter to start a comparison of evolution in those conditions. Prof. Bernier thinks it’s been cut off for at least 20 million years, maybe more. Too bad it’s all bacteria and unicellular stuff.”

“Edwards thinks there’s potentially a couple of adjacent lakes nearby to compare with.”

“We have lots of stuff already to analyze. It’s probably not going to be a topic for a couple of years,” she replied.

“Always more to science out,” he laughed.

“Gotta think of all those Ph.D. coming after us,” she opined.

“Gotta think of ours first,” he replied.

“Well, there’s that,” Cynthia acknowledged.

“What do you think Terry will have found for his theme? Asians aren’t reputed for their drinks,” he changed topics.

“I have no idea either TT, but I’m sure he’ll have something special.”

Terry looked at the bottle that the other Terry had pulled out. It wasn’t the slightly yellowish tint, but the snake coiled in the large flask that was really disturbing.

“What the… is that?” TT asked.

“And how did you get it?” Cynthia asked.

“It is traditional. In some parts of the southeast, it even increases your sexual potency,” Nobira said.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” she pursued.

The barman whispered, “it’s a plastic one. Can’t get any real ones from shore, even with all the biology research going around in multiple bases.”

“I could have guessed. No cold-blooded animals around the Antartica,” she smiled.

“Sounds better,” Terry said as the large glass of rice wine was placed in front of him.

“Special for the ones who need the extra kick. And not optional for the Gofer,” the barman replied genially.

Cynthia accepted a pint of foamy beer, and they moved aside to leave room for the rest of the partygoers, joining the now-usual group to the side. They included a newcomer, a Laenert Boode. Despite the Dutch-sounding name, he wasn’t a citizen of the United Provinces, as attested by the dark skin. There was probably a good story in the pedigree somewhere, certainly a famous and revered ancestor escaping the massive European wars of the 20th century.

All glasses clinked against Terry’s who accepted the implicit challenge with humor. He certainly had the highest alcohol-content glass of the group, and he was supposed to finish his before anyone else.

It wasn’t as if he could die of alcohol poisoning, after all.

4. Competition

Almost the entire biology department was there. Bernier, the head of the bioscience team had a completely crestfallen face, and Terry’s girlfriend, Cynthia, looked as devastated. The half-dozen other members of the wintering bio team were obviously as pained.

“Found it,” Lásló said, handing a piece of electronics to Terry.

Even without further examination, the half-melted Bakelite at the edge and the sharp visible divide on the central chip told him the component had failed, and badly.

“Piece of junk,” the maintenance team’s head commented.

“So?” Bernier asked.

“That’s what you get when you’re mandated to use a 75% price score in supply contracts. Cheap junk made in Indian substandard factories.”

Terry made a polite face to commiserate.

“Got replacements, of course. Which will be good enough for a year or two, at the very least. Of course, it can fail again, in which case your freezers will stop working again. Best I can do is restore the normal controls.”

“Well, that’s not going to be enough. We lost every sample. Melted water that’s mixed with floor dust means it’s worth nothing now.”

“Can’t reverse entropy. Even if the Labyrinth is suspected to be able to, somehow, that’s not something we can do. Can you, TT?”

“Can’t unmelt stuff. Even if I was a tier-two Intellect build, at best I could freeze it again for free, but you can put it out of the base buildings for an hour, and that’d be the same,” Terry replied.

“I wasn’t asking to restore our samples. But, maintaining the freezers operational?”

“Even that junk should be good enough for a year. And yes, we’ll report the failures, and request a supplier change. Next winter, you’ll be good,” Lásló said, shrugging.

As the two maintenance departed, Terry threw a look at the lab, but Cynthia was very obviously distracted by the now-useless puddles of melted ice around the lab’s freezers, and he didn’t catch her attention.

No matter what, he’d get the skinny at their shared meal break mid-“day”.

“So, Bernier is pretty pissed,” she said.

“Not at maintenance, I hope,” Terry replied.

“Well, maybe a bit. And I need to show solidarity with my boss.”

“Not too much, I’d think.”

“Hmmm,” Cynthia slowly mused.

“What does that mean for you?”

“My Ph.D. is on hold. It’s not the end, but it’s still annoying. We need to get new samples because the data analysis part isn’t going to help much.”

“Sucks.”

“Says the guy who is losing an entire year on his.”

“Hey, it’s not wasted. I mean, I met you.”

“If you start telling me I’m a good subject for geology, I’m going to be annoyed.”

Terry shook his head. That was the kind of battle he’d learned he’d lose every time. Cynthia laughed.

“Okay, maybe I like the idea of dating a Gate-enhanced like you. You chose wisely your year of civic service.”

“My brother picked a foreign corps year early rather than defer it.”

“Your brother? He’s also an enhanced?”

“Twin. Meaning we got the same genetic Potential bases.”

Cynthia smiled.

“Now that is interesting.”

“Hey, I’m not sharing with Leslie.”

“Don’t worry. I get it. There’s a Divergence that has done work with cloning, but there’s always more people with potential than the Labyrinth starting zones can absorb for late Divergences like ours.”

Terry finished his drink, then stood up.

“Gotta go. Seems we have freezers to repair.”

“I hope so. Even if we don’t have anything to fill them with.”

Terry stood in the garage, watching the expedition gather around the large tracked vehicle. Cynthia briefly squeezed his shoulder before joining her boss.

“Checklist done. We have everything for the three days,” Bernier announced.

“And you’re lucky you get the support of the Academies,” Armstrong, the base commander said. “It’s still early in the night season, otherwise I’d have denied you.”

“We have enough Power Crystals to operate the drills in full safety. The winter conditions mean very little for the dig, and since we drill at the same location, we get to resume our work in the same conditions. I’m not one to get six people doing nothing for four months. Unless you get a funding extension?”

“We’ve had this discussion, Bernier. Don’t push your luck.”

The icetrack’s lights turned on and Professor Bernier turned grabbed a handhold and hoisted himself onto the vehicle. The tracks started to churn on the iced floor, slowly leaving the garage.

Terry watched the vehicle turn and start heading toward the distant location of the sub-glacial lake drill site. Ninety miles under the stars of the southern hemisphere.

“I hate stupid academy politics,” he heard the base commander mutter.

5. Emergency

Terry knocked on the commander’s office door and came in immediately. His boss Lásló was there already, along with Mark Svanson, the logistics manager.

“Ah, good,” Armstrong said.

“You called?”

“We have a problem,” Lásló announced.

“More specifically, Bio ran into a problem,” Armstrong specified.

“One of the tracks broke down when they tried to head back. They had a quick look, but it requires heavy work.”

Terry groaned.

“And yes, the second icetrack is currently in three separate parts. Meaning we only have the small one available,” Lásló confirmed.

“So, we can’t evac them. We need to repair on the spot,” Terry deduced.

“And while they have heating and stuff, the weather is going to turn soon.”

“And that’s where I come in.”

“Hazardous condition maintenance. It’s not fixing the icetrack in the garage.”

“Okay, so what do we need?” Terry asked.

Four hours later, he was climbing on the base’s small icetrack. Unlike the large versions used for “real” expeditions, this was a two-seater, meaning he and his boss, with about everything they’d be likely to need in the rear section.

“More shitty parts. Beancounters,” Lásló grumbled again once they had left the base’s border.

Terry judiciously refrained from commenting. If you were to listen to his boss, everything was due to sub-par engineering, sub-par parts, and foreign contractors. Instead, he focused on driving while the boss checked and re-checked the tools and parts.

Thankfully, without any snowfall since, the tracks toward the drill site were clearly visible in the icetrack’s headlights, and the Power Crystal heaters kept the interior of the small vehicle relatively warm. A quick check of the weather showed a reasonable -60°F. Both men had checked the weather, and the wind was going to rise, although the sky was still clear, and should remain so.

“Harsh,” Lásló said. “What do you think, TT?”

“I hear there are worse zones in the Labyrinth.”

“Eh. But you enhanced can survive them.”

“It depends on your tier. I’m a baseline. Just in the Gate and a walk back from the Plaza. I did not even get a level out of it. Our instructor was a tier 8, and he says you can find colder zones than anything on Earth even here, but even at tier 8, they’re not… comfortable. I don’t want to think what would happen to me there.”

“You didn’t go for a full service, obviously.”

“No, boss. A year of civic duty in exchange for having descriptors is okay, but twenty years of service for being allowed to get at least tier 4 and be able to roam unimpeded in another dimension? Not for me.”

“Not even for immortality?”

“Well, I am young. The advantage of crossing the Gate at 18 is that, if I want truly to, I’ll slowly revert to that age.”

The icetrack rolled over a small ridge and a spray of dusted snow hit briefly the front window. Seconds later, Lásló pointed out further, and Terry spotted dim lights.

“Here they are.”

“What do you mean, one of your Crystals broke as well.”

“Big crack. Apparently, someone…” Bernier looked pointedly at Lásló “… didn’t do proper checks and missed the wear on it.”

The maintenance boss cursed in his inimitable fashion and dug into the large rotating panel.

“Who is the dummy who pulled a moving Crystal into a heating position like that? It’s all wrong!”

Terry spotted Cynthia, still in the icetrack, and waved. She waved back but did not come out. No sense in wasting heat by going outside, even with Crystal-powered heaters.

While his boss was fussing about the Crystal engines, Terry pulled out the tools, checking the tracking on the bigger vehicle. Moving around in the thick enhanced polar suits was not easy, but he managed it. A complete inspection showed two warped track parts, thankfully not buried under the vehicle itself.

Lásló finally came back, as Terry was unpacking the parts under the light.

“The maintenance record says all the Crystals are only a year old installed, and rated for four before splintering into smaller ones. Obviously, someone did a bad job. And then shuffling them around.”

“Do we have spares?”

“Am I made of money? We do. At the base. Problem is, nobody warned us of that one and the weather’s turning. Back to base to grab a triplet and back here, it’s too damned long.”

“So what’s the solution?”

“I’m going to pull the heaters from our vehicle and slot them into the big boy. If one splintered, I’m not going to trust the others not to. Bloody suppliers, putting used Crystals forth as premium. I’m sure it’s Ottoman.”

“But if the heaters are off…”

“I’ll ride the big boy. You ride alone. I know, it’s against the regulations. I’ll deal with Armstrong back in the base.”

“It’s… minus 60. Going worse soon.”

“And you’re a big boy, TT. Think of it as an adventure beyond the Gate.”

It took them three hours, with the wind slowly rising, and the temperatures, both actual and feels-like dropping further. After replacing the Crystals in the main vehicle’s heater, Lásló put the old ones in the smaller icetrack.

“Best case, you still get some heating. But with only two, the overall drain is faster than the recharge, so it’s not operating continuously. Keep it up manually, don’t let the automation lock on the missing one. And hopefully, the others don’t splinter too.”

“Don’t worry, boss. I’ll be following you closely.”

Terry didn’t tell him how he was really feeling.

The two icetracks were advancing slowly. Terry kept the larger one in his headlights, although with the wind howling across the terrain, snow was being thrown all around. The only way it could be worse for visibility would be actual snowfall adding to the whipped old snow. The temperature inside the cabin stayed chilly as he had turned the Crystal heater to the lowest functioning level, just in case.

And, of course, at that point, he heard a loud clacking sound behind him. His thought was that Lásló was right. Ninety-nine percent chance this was another heater Crystals splintering. Broken Crystals like that worked fine, they just had a much lower capacity, and of course, you needed to put them in a much smaller receptacle to keep them pumping out heat, light, or motion.

He thumbed the radio and got mumbles for his efforts.

“Got another broken,” he announced.

The answer was incoherent, and he wondered if his parka interfered, the radio was broken down, or the weather was interfering. So, he blinked his headlights twice and kept on. It was not as if he could do anything anyway.

Low heat. -1 all potentials

He blinked. The notification was unexpected. There must be something bad if he was internally affected. His thought went back to the veteran, who had accompanied them on the nearly leisurely trek back from the Labyrinth plaza.

“Anything that affects just your potentials, you’re fine. Even if you drop to zero Constitution, you still have your baseline vitals. For us Professionals, all that matters is health and mind. You have 1 in health, you can weather out anything. It’s when you start losing vitals and stop regenerating that you are in danger.”

Low heat. -2 all potentials

“Okay, I’m still in trouble,” Terry muttered to no one.

He had no idea how far from Davis base they were. He simply focused on the rear of the icetrack in front of him, doggedly following it.

Low heat. -3 all potentials

He forced the rotation of the crystals, hoping the original one would still work, even if it did not have enough time to recharge.

Low heat. -3 all potentials

Good, he thought. So far, so good.

6. Conquering Hero

Terry blinked and saw the white blubs overhead.

“He’s back,” someone yelled.

Terry Henry Taylor

Health: 2/12

Mind: 1/1

Endurance: 3/13

Aether: 6/16

Effective level: 1

Level 1 Watcher

Experience: 77/1,000

Strength: 1 (15)

Dexterity: 2 (16)

Agility: 1 (15)

Constitution: 1 (15)

Stamina: 1 (15)

Wisdom: 0 (14)

Focus: 3 (18)

Presence: 1 (15)

Fortitude: 0 (14)

Intelligence: 1 (15)

Hypothermia (-14 potentials, 13 min to reduction)

Milestones: none

Skills: Gauge Enemy (0)

“What… happened,” he croaked.

“You rear-ended the icetrack when we arrived at base.”

“I don’t remember.”

He had lost all of his potentials, he realized. Flattened all values. All… save Focus. Even if he had been close to mindless, he’d been focused on the other vehicle, following it by instinct.

The blurry figure was unrecognizable, but the relief in the voice was recognizable.

“You look like an icicle,” he recognized her as Cynthia.

“Feel one,” he replied.

“Let him rest,” another voice interrupted. “Enhanced recover fast from anything that doesn’t kill them.”

Terry tried to mumble a confirmation, but weakness passed him. He looked at the endurance and saw it was already at 5, so he was regenerating. He simply closed his eyes again.

He was at Davis, and that was all that counted.

There was a loud pop, and party streamers streaked across the cafeteria, making Terry wonder where those came from. There was probably a carefully hoarded supply.

“Guys, it’s my job,” he protested, weakly.

“Nonsense. You’re still a hero,” one of the geology scientists insisted.

He found himself with an enormous glass that had to be 30 ounces, filled with a swirling mix of colors… and an enormous cube of ice. He threw a dark look at the barman, but the other-Terry kept a stoic look, fixed on an undefinable location to the side.

After minutes of being slapped all over by everyone, he finally managed to sit next to Cynthia, which squeezed hard his hand.

“It’s insane,” she whispered over the noise of the party.

“I still have Hypothermia. 2 fewer potentials, and almost an hour until I get one back.”

“As if it mattered. Besides, I do intend to check you thoroughly, and you will accompany me on that trip.”

“Aye aye, ma’am.”

“I was terrified when they pulled you out of the track. It was full of ice, and you were completely rigid. Like a corpse.”

“I was probably completely inert. I really don’t remember.”

“It’s when you see it… that you realize what an enhanced is.”

“Feeling put off?”

A kiss on his mouth shut him down.

“At least you have more endurance than my first boyfriend in high school.”

“It’s my second-best vital.”

“Oh. Right. Your best is useless.”

He snorted back and smiled again. Cynthia looked at him, eyes twinkling.

“I’m lucky. My boyfriend is immortal.”

“Not truly immortal, but yes. You don’t even need to advance.”

“One year is cheap.”

“This one is even cheaper since it includes you. After all, I saved you.”

“We would have made it. We never were in danger. Bernier checked everything beforehand.”

“Except crystals. Did you get your samples?”

“What? Oh, yes. It was only when we tried to head back that things went wrong. I’ll have to work again for the Ph.D. But… tomorrow.”

He felt the foot moving across his ankle and smiled.

“I probably have a lot of work tomorrow too.”

“What?”

“We have two icetracks with damage. I trashed them both, after all.”

“WHAT?”

He shrugged.

“All part of the job.”

7. Night's End

Terry found the restaurant with a minimum of indications from Cynthia. She’d picked it, to celebrate “coming home”, and he’d traveled from Boston to Providence to pick her first.

Besides, she’d promised him a surprise. So of course, he’d checked exactly which restaurant she’d picked, but it looked fairly normal. An upscale establishment, certainly, but not something odd.

The only warning he got was when the waiter made a double-take when he saw them coming in. But the man was a good professional, and he did not comment as he accompanied them both to a table at the rear, where two people were already seated.

Terry stopped, only to be pulled forward by Cynthia, whose smile and glittering eyes betrayed the joke. Leslie, his brother, looked at her incredulously, then at his companion, frowning.

The other woman even had picked the same robe and she was very obviously enjoying herself too.

“So that’s the surprise,” Leslie managed to say before Terry did.

“You told me you had a sister but didn’t specify that it was a twin,” Terry managed to say before they both took their seats.

“Now you have to figure out which is which,” she replied, and Terry grabbed her hand, turning in.

“Ah ah. That’s a scar I know.”

“That’s cheating!” she exclaimed.

“So… since when?” he asked, turning to Leslie.

His brother was rolling his eyes.

“She found me at Rawlin, three months ago. But Roxanne didn’t tell me why… And now I found out she’s got a sister and that’s my brother’s interest. Verrrry… interesting.”

“Hey, once I found out there was an unattached handsome enhanced available, I had to notify Rox.”

“That’s cheating. Now I know why she seemed to have good taste.”

“We both have.”

The waiter had managed to serve Terry and Cynthia a glass of champagne while they had been distracted as if he had Labyrinth magic of sorts, and the two couples sighed in unison, before raising the glasses.

“To the conquering heroes,” Cynthia said.

“Who? Us?” Leslie asked.

“Both sides.”