Hannah Ross - The Last Outpost - An Antarctic Dystopia

Scott was fully prepared to fight, but then a hand was placed on his shoulder, and with relief, he saw Omrek standing beside him. “There you are, Scott! We’re looking for you. Are you going home already, Ne Tarveg?” he asked. “I suggest you stay a while. Eat and drink and dance a bit more, in honor of the winter feast.”

“No, I’m going,” Ne Tarveg said curtly. He shot Scott another venomous glance and strode off, his back as straight as a lance and his fists still clenched.

Omrek emitted a low whistle. “He followed you, didn’t he?”

“It seems so,” Scott said.

“I would watch out for Ne Tarveg, if I were you,” he suggested. “There is darkness in this man’s face, and he never got over Tahan saying she won’t be his woman.”

“Apparently, he thinks that your sister and I…” Scott trailed off, feeling hot in the face.

Omrek clapped him on the shoulder. “Scott, I don’t wag my tongue. I observe deeds, not words. You are our friend, and a good man, and you don’t need to explain a thing. Now come, let’s go back to the feast before Tahan gets worried.”

Scott barely remembered how he got back to the house of Tahan, contented and tipsy. Omrek steadied him by the arm, and his eyes were closing even as he climbed into the furs spread out for him, and laid his head on the pillow. It was soft sealskin, stuffed with penguin down, and Scott was asleep before he was able to properly appreciate its comfort.

When he woke, he had no way to tell the time, for it was dark as night, but the day had clearly begun — he smelled the reheated leftovers from last night’s feast, and heard people talking behind the partition. Tahan was telling her son off for eating with his hands. Scott got up and splashed water on his face from the washing-basin. He then went out into the main area of the house, and Tahan smiled at him and handed him a cup of herb tea.

“You slept well, Scott? Come over, there’s some stew left from last night, and some of the grain rolls.” As Scott reached to take one, Tahan went on: “Can you guess the news? We will have another reason to celebrate soon. Omrek has gained the consent of Re Manari, his young woman. They will make a hearth together as soon as their home is built!”

Scott came over to Omrek, who was looking self-conscious but extremely pleased, and shook him by the arm. “Congratulations, Omrek. When are you starting on the new house?”

“Just now,” Omrek said. “I already have a spot chosen and agreed upon by Tahan and the elders, and the village men are going to lend a hand. There is nothing to wait for.”

“Omrek has no patience to wait for the light season,” Tahan said, the corner of her mouth twitching. “I hope Manari does not notice when the foundations come out all crooked.”

“We’ll make do,” Omrek said, draining the last of his tea and getting up. He was evidently impervious to teasing at the moment.

“I want to help too, if you think I could be of any use,” Scott said.

“Thank you, but you’ve had nothing to eat yet. After you breakfast, catch up with us. It isn’t far — Tahan will show you where to go.”

Omrek went to the door, Egan at his heels. “He’ll be a bother, won’t he? Egan, stay,” Tahan called out.

“No, not at all. Let him go. He’ll help us mix the clay.”

“Well, if you say so,” Tahan said. “Egan, try not to get too dirty. And listen to your uncle!”

Scott and Tahan remained alone. She was nibbling on a grain roll, and Scott took some dried fish and broke it in half. It had the consistency of a cracker.

“Omrek will have his home soon,” Tahan said. “I’m happy for him… Manari is a good girl.”

“And you’ll be able to take down the partition and make more space here,” Scott pointed out.

She shrugged. “Not much to do with the space. It’s just me and Egan here.” She stared into the wall in front of her, and her eyes assumed a distant, misty look.

“You might… well, you might take another husband someday,” Scott said, feeling uncomfortably hot in the face. “I mean… you could.”

A smile touched her lips. “Sometimes it seems to me as if Daygan only went away to the land of darkness yesterday,” she said, “and at other times, as if it has been many years. But I know he would want me to be happy, yes. He would want me to walk in the light.”

She got up and walked to the entrance, and Scott followed her. “I’m not very hungry right now,” he said. “I think I had better go and help Omrek with the house. Which way do I go?”

Guided by Tahan’s instructions, he quickly found the way to the construction site. It was a dark, cold morning, and he zipped up his orange parka — he wouldn’t think of soiling the beautiful parka Tahan had made for him. Occasionally, a gust of chilly wind found its way under the hood of his parka, but he knew it was nothing compared to the weather outside the valley.

He heard the voices of the workers from afar, as well as the sounds of digging. The Anai men, armed with shovels of wood and stone, were shifting and straightening some of the soft earth for the foundations of the new house. The work had made them warm, and many of the men had taken off their parkas. Some of them, used to the sight of Scott by now, nodded in a friendly manner. He noticed Ne Tarveg was nowhere to be seen.

“You came, Scott, that’s good,” Omrek said. “We are just finishing the digging. Will begin laying the stones soon.”

There was a tall heap of local black rocks near the construction site, and presently men began picking them up and making the bottom layer of the wall, which was an almost perfect circle, except a gap where the entrance would be. Naturally, the rocks did not have the even shape of bricks, but the Anai picked them so that the shapes and corners would fit together, as if in a puzzle. Clay would then block the remaining cracks and crevices. Sweating and straining, Scott picked up a large rock and placed it in the trench.

“Now a layer of clay,” Omrek said. “Are you stirring?” he asked his nephew with mock seriousness. Little Egan, his face red and shiny with effort, was attempting to stir the thick clay mixture with a stick. The builders began scooping up handfuls of clay and spreading it on top of the rocks, and Scott did his best to emulate them. The clay was thick and sticky and oozed between the rocks. Later, Omrek explained, the whole house would be treated with fire inside and out, burning the clay and making it rock-hard.

After a few hours of hauling rocks and spreading clay, the circular wall of Omrek’s new home was about a foot tall, and Scott was drenched in sweat and smeared in mud and clay from head to foot. The skin of his fingertips was raw, his lower back ached, and overall, he was extremely glad when Omrek declared a break. Some of the men went straight back to their homes, while others, including Scott and Omrek, headed for the hot pool to wash off the dirt. The first dip into the steamy, sulphury water was heavenly, and Scott felt all his aching muscles begin to relax at once.

“You’re a good worker,” Omrek said appreciatively. “Thank you for your help, Scott.”

“My pleasure,” Scott said, scrubbing under his broken fingernails and digging out bits of clay. He made a mental note to bring a pair of work gloves on his next visit to the Anai valley.

After washing up and the midday meal, it was time for a reluctant goodbye — Scott had to get back to AN-85, and from there to McMurdo. He carefully folded up the parka Tahan made for him, and stashed it in the depths of his backpack. He would not leave her gift behind, but he knew it must not be seen by anyone from the station.

Omrek went back to the construction site, while Tahan and Egan walked with Scott to the beginning of the valley. As they stood by the trail, Tahan touched the chafed and red tips of his fingers. “Omrek made you work too hard,” she observed.