Thomas Greanias - Raising Atlantis

Serena also thought she could hear crackling noises from the shell’s expansion joints. Stations built on ice tend to sink under their own weight as the heat they generate melts the surrounding ice. This station, probably days old, was just settling in.

She remembered her capture at the secret airstrip carved out of the ice and her subsequent escort to Ice Base Orion. The Hagglunds tractor in which the Americans transported her had passed a power plant along the way. It was buried a hundred yards away from the living quarters behind a protective snow dune. Too far way to service diesel engines in this cold, she thought. That’s when she realized it was probably a compact nuclear plant. Probably a 100-kilowatt system.

At first she was outraged. How dare the Americans bring nuclear materials onto the continent! she thought. Ninety percent of all the ice in the world was here. Any meltdown could cause global catastrophe. This alone was more than enough to bust the Americans with the U.N.

But now her fury at the Americans for breaking every international law on the books had turned to fascination. However cool she played it with Conrad and General Yeats back at the air lock, she was in fact burning with excitement. There was Conrad, of course. But clearly her mission here involved much more than protecting the unspoiled Antarctic environment from the Americans.

Something momentous had been found down here, she realized, just like the pope said. Something that could turn history-and the Judeo-Christian tradition-on its head. In spite of all this, however, she felt exhilarated. Of all the candidates His Holiness could have chosen to be his eyes for this historic event, he had chosen her.

She heard the door unlock with a buzz and turned.

When the MP opened the door of the brig and ushered Conrad in, Serena was sitting on the edge of her bunk, sipping diesel tea from a Styrofoam cup. Conrad noted the silver bride of Christ band on her left ring finger that signified her spiritual union to the one and only Son of God. That would be Jesus to her, unfortunately, and not some disreputable scoundrel like Conrad Yeats. He wondered why she was still wearing it. Probably to keep his likes at bay.

“Conrad.” Serena managed a smile. “I figured they’d send you. You always did have odd ideas for a secret rendezvous.”

Conrad saw she was down to her wool sweater now, her black hair falling softly over her shoulders. Underneath she was probably wearing polypropylene inner liners to move sweat away from her skin, or acrylic thermal underwear. As for what was wrapped under that, Conrad didn’t have to imagine, and he realized he was the one sweating.

“What’s so odd?” He reached over and touched her face. “You’re still cold.”

“I’m fine. What happened to you?”

He looked at his bandaged hand. “Occupational hazard.”

“Like Yeats? I would have put you and me together before I ever thought I’d see you with your father.”

“Like you and your GO boys in the next-”

“Cell?” She smiled. “Worried about some competition, Conrad?” she asked. “Don’t be. If I were the last woman on earth and you were the last man, I’d become a nun again.”

Conrad stared into her soft brown eyes. It was the first time they had been alone, face-to-face, in five years, and Conrad secretly felt she looked more beautiful than ever. He, on the other hand, felt old and worn down. “What are you doing here, Serena?”

“I thought I might ask you the same question, Conrad.”

He was itching to tell her about the ruins beneath the ice, that his theories were true. But he couldn’t. After all, they had never dealt with the ruins of their own lives on the surface.

“You’re not just here to save the environment,” Conrad stated. “When you came through that air lock, you weren’t surprised to see me.”

“You’re right, Conrad,” she said softly and put a warm hand to his face. “I missed you and had to see you.”

Conrad pulled back. “You are so full of it, and you know it.”

“Oh, and you’re not?” The floor began to rumble. Serena sat back in her bunk and glanced at her watch. She’s timing the shakers, he thought to himself. Suddenly she said, “When were you going to inform the rest of the world about your discovery?”

Conrad swallowed hard. “What discovery?”

“The pyramid under the ice.”

Conrad blinked in disbelief but said nothing. Still, there was no use fighting the fact that somehow she knew as much or more than he did about this expedition.

“So what else did God tell you?”

“I’d say the team has been drilling exploratory tunnels in the ice around the pyramid,” she said. “And I’d bet that by now your cowboy father has probably found a door.”

There was a minute of silence. They were no longer locked in their typical give-and-take banter but were fellow truth-seekers. Conrad was glad she was there and angry at the same time. He was worried about her safety and yet felt threatened by her presence, as if somehow she was standing in his way.

“Serena,” he said softly. “This isn’t some oil platform that you can chain yourself to in order to protest the production of fossil fuels. A few dozen soldiers have already died on this expedition, and it’s practically a miracle you and I are even talking.”

A cloud of sober reflection passed over Serena’s face. She was processing her own thoughts. “I can take care of myself, Conrad,” she said. “It’s you I’m worried about.”

“Me?”

“Your father hasn’t told you everything.”

“What else is new?” Conrad shrugged. “Passing along a piece of information for him is like passing a kidney stone. So he’s hiding something. So are you, Serena. A lot more. Look, neither the United States nor the Vatican is going to be able to keep a lid on something this big.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Conrad, I know you’re not this naive, so it must be denial,” she said. “Tell me, how did Yeats lure you down here? Did he promise you credit for the find of the ages? Maybe more help in finding your true parents?”

“Maybe.”

“Trust me, Conrad,” she said, the pain of personal experience in her eyes, “there are some answers you don’t want to know.”

“Speak for yourself, Serena.”

“Conrad, this isn’t about you and this isn’t about me. It’s about the world at large and the greater good. You have to consider other people.”

“I am considering them. This is an unprecedented development in human history. And I want to share it with the world.”

“No, you want to magnify the great name of Doctor Conrad Yeats,” she said. “To hell with the rest of the world. But why should you care? It’s the information about Earth that’s more important than the planet or its people. Isn’t that how it goes with you? You haven’t changed a bit.”

“If you’re referring to our relationship, you knew exactly what you were doing then, Miss High and Mighty. You just didn’t want to take responsibility for your actions.”

“I was pure as the driven snow, Conrad. But you pissed on me. Just like you’re going to piss on this planet.”

“Hey, it’s not like we actually did anything.”

“My point exactly,” she said. “But you didn’t do much to contradict the rumors, did you?”

“I am not the bad guy here.”

“Aren’t you?” she asked. “You’re nothing but a pawn of the United States, willing to betray everything you believe in about international cooperation and the brotherhood and sisterhood of humanity to satisfy your selfish curiosity.”

“I don’t want to change the world,” he told her. “I just want to understand it. And this is our best shot yet to make sense of who we are and where we came from. You make it sound like the fruit of forbidden knowledge. One bite and we’ll all be cursed.”