Hannah Ross - The Last Outpost - An Antarctic Dystopia

Ri Omrek handed him a stiff scrubbing pad made out of dried grass, and a handful of something that looked and smelled like flower petals. Scott sniffed at them in a puzzled manner.

“Scrub with this,” Ri Omrek explained. “Wash good, all dirt gone.”

Scott decided to take him at his word, and understood as soon as he started rubbing the crushed petals into his skin. These wild-growing flowers were evidently rich in saponin, and while they didn’t produce suds, they were very good at removing dirt, and the grittiness of the dried petals provided something of a mild, natural peeling effect. The skin was thus left clean and nice-smelling. Other hunters cleaned up with bits of soap made of fat and ashes. Scott knew Ki Tahan saved some of the oil she rendered from seals and penguins for that purpose.

The pool was quite large enough to accommodate fifteen men with ease, and while the water only came up as high as a man’s waist in most parts of it, it was possible to immerse with comfort by sitting on some smooth rocks close to the edge. Not far from him, Scott noticed Ne Tarveg scrubbing as vigorously as if he meant to take a layer of skin off.

When he had had enough, he got out and briefly allowed his skin to dry in the open air before putting on his clothes. The hot, steamy air made one quite warm even outside the pool, but Scott did not feel comfortable with over a dozen Anai men staring at his pale and skinny backside.

Once they walked back to the village, Scott and Ri Omrek were welcomed by the pleasant smells of meat roasting above an outdoor fire. It turned out that, while the hunters were gone on their trip, Ki Tahan had taken her son and walked to one of the valley edges, where the geysers were sparser and a solid wall of ice existed year-round. Holes in the ice, blocked with rocks, were used by the Anai for cold storage, and frozen food kept fresh and unspoiled for many months. Ki Tahan had taken out a frozen penguin, which her brother brought from the bay some weeks ago, thawed it, cut it into chunks and speared those on thin, sharp wooden shafts. Seasoned with ocean salt and herbs, this made the oddest, but also one of the tastiest barbecues Scott had ever tasted. A cup of fermented herb drink rounded up the dinner.

Egan fell asleep in the middle of his dinner, and Scott, being the only one whose hands were free at the moment, gently picked up the boy and carried him to bed. When he returned, he found Ri Omrek yawning as well, fighting the urge to nod off.

“Tired,” the young man said with a smile. “Been a long day. Must sleep. You not tired, Scott?”

Scott shook his head. “I’ll stay out a little while longer, I think,” he said.

“Well, when you tired, there’s a bed on the floor for you. Tomorrow, men come back with mulluvik, and we celebrate.”

Once Ri Omrek retired, Scott found himself alone with Ki Tahan. She was busy gathering the cooking utensils and putting out the remnants of the fire. “You eat enough?” she asked. “Not hungry? There’s some meat left.”

“No, I couldn’t possibly eat another bite,” Scott said earnestly. He felt like he would not be hungry for three days at least.

Ki Tahan took the cooking tools and the stack of clay cups back inside the house, and returned. “I would like to show you something,” she said, “if you not too tired.”

Though Scott had had a very vigorous march with the hunters, carrying loads he was hardly accustomed to, and though he had lost count of the hours he had spent awake, he did not feel sleepy. Without saying a word, he got up and followed Ki Tahan who, despite the bright twilight, was carrying an oil lamp with a wick and a firestone.

There were many nooks and paths branching off the main valley, and now Ki Tahan led him down one of them. It was a winding, narrow trail, protected by high rocky walls on both sides, and the bluish darkness of the semi-night was denser here. Ki Tahan’s moccasins stepped soundlessly upon the rocks, but Scott occasionally stumbled in his terrain boots, scattering small stones around. Finally, they reached the end of the path. A tall, vast black hole yawned ahead of them.

“A cave!” Scott exclaimed in surprise. Ki Tahan lit the oil lamp and, holding it aloft, led him in.

He expected a large cave, for the entrance was tall and wide enough for both him and Ki Tahan to stand shoulder to shoulder and go in without bending, but the space inside surpassed his expectations. It was positively cavernous, with walls rounded and smooth and, he could see in the flickering light of the lamp, covered with many intricate drawings and paintings of men, animals, birds and plants, as well as the strange and beautiful writings of the Anai language. Here and there, he saw shelves carved out in the wall, and upon them were figures made of whale ivory and seal bone, and remnants of tallow candles that had long burned out. Something made him think that these must be offerings to some Greater Being.

“This is secret place of the Anai,” Ki Tahan said. “None of the men from beyond the sea ever see this, not even Anders. But I asked the elders, and they allowed me to take you, since you wear our clothes, carry our weapons, and hunt with us. This is where the Anai come to think, and be quiet, and be with the Great Spirits, and with those who had gone into the dark. When my mother and father, and then Daygan go to land of darkness, I come here often,” she added with a flicker of sadness.

Then, as if to dispel the melancholy memories, she got up and walked over to the most magnificent wall painting Scott had ever seen, done in a multitude of colors, which he had no idea how the Anai obtained from just the natural means of their valley. It depicted men in a boat rowing across a stormy sea. The boat was long and narrow, and its shape was unlike the leather fishing boats he had seen on the hunt. There were long oars, and a mast, and a sail to catch the wind. If he had to liken it to anything he had ever seen before, he would have said it was a Viking longboat, but how could this be possible?

“This is picture of our fathers, the First Anai, as they come from the sea to the Frozen Land,” Ki Tahan said. “There are many pictures like this, and in all, there is such boat. They know how to make boats like this, but we don’t, no more. It must be great secret, too.”

“To make such a boat, you would need a lot of wood,” Scott said. “You don’t have that much wood in your valley. Boats of bone and leather are light and easy to make, but they won’t be strong or stable enough to carry you far across the sea.”

Ki Tahan nodded solemnly. “I never think of that,” she said. “Boat you came in, was it made of wood?”

Scott frowned, puzzled as to how he might answer this question. The Anai did not know metal, and things like engines were surely beyond the scope of what he could explain in a few minutes. Finally, he pulled out his pocketknife and unfolded it. The steel blade glinted dully in the light of the lamp. He gave the knife to Ki Tahan, and she touched the sharp blade cautiously and admiringly.

“Is this knife?” she asked. “I never see knife so sharp. How can stone be so smooth?”

“This isn’t stone,” Scott said. “It is called steel.” The next fifteen minutes saw him venture into a lecture on metallurgy and the making of iron and steel. Ki Tahan listened with rapt attention. Though her knowledge was naturally limited to objects found in the valley and by the sea, she was by no means deficient in understanding, and a few minutes of thorough explanation expanded her horizons more than weeks of lectures might do for the average university student.

“So whole boats, for many men, made of this… steel?” she said incredulously. “Many wonders in the world. You soon tell me more, Scott, but let’s be silent now for a bit. This is place to be silent, and spirits listen.”