William Dietrich - Ice Reich

"So this is our American expert on Antarctica. A fellow flier! I must tell you, Hart, the only pure place is in the air."

"Yes, Reich Minister," Hart managed. "I share your enthusiasm. The air, and perhaps Antarctica."

"Ah really?" Goring looked genuinely interested. "And what is so pure about the southern continent?"

"Well…" Hart thought for a moment. "The ice, of course, is as white as your uniform. No, not just white but… prismatic. The colors are unworldly. And the air is clearer there. You can see to infinity."

"Ah, infinity." Goring laughed appreciatively. "I think I saw that a few times from my biplane in the war, looking over my shoulder into the barrel of an enemy machine gun. I'm not sure I'd like to see so much infinity again." Hart found himself joining the others in complimentary laughter, a solar system in orbit around its fat white sun. "But then the kind of purity you talk of, Hart- the sublime cleanliness of a place never before trod by man- that, that must be remarkable."

"It can be inspiring or frightening," Hart said without thinking, instantly feeling he'd betrayed himself.

"So I understand." Suddenly Goring's softness seemed to stiffen and his eyes bored into the pilot's as if taking Hart's measure. Owen forced himself to stare calmly back. "My pilots, the men I recruit, are not easily frightened."

"No, they're not, Herr Goring." You Germans were dogged enough to search me out in Alaska and paid to bring me here, he thought. If you don't want me now, then to hell with you.

The German held his gaze for a moment more and then abruptly smiled. The appraisal was done. "Good! You know, Hart, that's the name of the stag, a name that originally comes from the German word for 'horn'-and so I approve of your ancestry as well! Just like Lindbergh! We Germans are all pioneers of the air. Now come, come, into my library. You must meet your fellow adventurers."

The library was the size of a small hangar, its gold-lettered books ranked as neatly as soldiers. Most looked new and completely unread: this was a room to impress, not to work in. A fire burned here as well. Clustered around a side table were four men and a woman, sipping wine. Their evident leader- the captain, Hart guessed- wore his Prussian aura of command on weathered features, his steel-gray hair close-cropped and his goatee trimmed with precision. Next to him was a tall, blond, Nordic man of about Hart's age who looked like he'd stepped from a Nazi recruiting poster. And a shorter, more officious-looking fellow with a mustache and gold wire-rimmed glasses. The oldest, at least in appearance, was a balding, somewhat cadaverous male with thin lips, yellowed teeth, and long, tobacco-stained fingers. He was smoking a cigarette. The woman Hart studied for a moment longer. She was about Leni Stauffenberg's age but did not pretend to the actress's ostentatious beauty. Her dark red hair was cut just below her shoulders, flipped slightly inward in a simple style, and she wore a modestly cut print dress and low heels. She appeared to wear no makeup and seemed to have no need of it. Her skin was clear and her blue eyes bright and intelligent.

"Captain Heiden!" Goring greeted the Prussian. "Let me present to you one of our country's representatives in America, Otto Kohl, our American consultant Owen Hart, and of course our own beautiful Leni Stauffenberg- even more stunning," and here the Reich Minister grinned like a playboy, "in the flesh than on the screen. Who would have thought it possible?"

Heiden bowed with Prussian formality and took the actress's gloved hand, kissing it lightly. Then he turned and gave a shorter bow to Hart. "So good of you to agree to accompany us, Mr. Hart," he said. "I'm Konrad Heiden, captain of the Schwabenland, the seaplane tender that will take us to Antarctica. Your experience in polar flying should prove invaluable. Let me introduce our political liaison, Jurgen Drexler"-the handsome blond gave a nod- "our chief geographer, Alfred Feder"-here the shorter man bobbed his head a bit shyly- "ship's doctor Maximilian Schmidt"-the smoker smiled remotely behind a cloud of exhaled smoke- "and Greta Heinz, our polar biologist." The woman smiled and looked at Hart with interest, keeping one hand on the stem of her wineglass and the other at her wrist, as if the goblet needed special support. She glanced quickly at Leni and then away, shy of the movie star's polish, and seemed to avoid even incidental eye contact with Kohl. Almost imperceptibly Drexler sidled an inch closer, as if to suggest a relationship. She gave no sign she noticed. She was attractive, Hart decided: not so much glamorous as interesting.

"Glad to meet you," Hart said. "It should be an intriguing adventure."

"Captain Heiden has had experience in the Arctic but this will be Germany's first great thrust toward the South Pole," Goring said. "We've had explorers there before- Erich von Drygalski even rose in a balloon just after the turn of the century, becoming the first Antarctic aeronaut- but the effort wasn't sustained. This time we're being systematic about it: we're staking our claim and planning to do Antarctic research. The expedition will have geopolitical implications as well." Goring turned toward the others. "And Mr. Hart has been assuring me about the beauty of the place. How I wish I could accompany you, to escape the cares of my office!"

"But Hermann, Germany would miss you so much!" Leni exclaimed, as if she thought Goring was really going to slip away to sea. She leaned toward him and grasped his arm.

"And I would miss Germany!" the Reich Minister said, beaming. The others smiled at this banter.

"So, Hart, I assume you didn't fly in the war," Drexler said, clearly sizing him up. The German was slim, athletic, and even in repose seemed to have the grace of a cat.

"I don't look that old, I hope," Hart replied.

"Ah!" Goring cried. "The unintended insults of arrogant youth." The group laughed.

"I did some flying on the barnstormer circuit," Hart said, "then flew in competition and in the Rockies, learning cold weather skills. Hired on with Elliott Farnsworth. And was fired when I wouldn't fly him into bad weather."

"Sometimes heroism must be put in abeyance," Drexler observed.

Unsure of what to make of that remark, the pilot turned to the geographer. "Alfred, do you know exactly where on the continent we're going?"

"I do," the man said with a certain self-satisfaction. "And the rest of you shall know when we get there."

There was an awkward pause and then Goring laughed explosively, drawing the others in. "Ha!" he crowed. "The white part, Hart! You're going to the cold part!" He laughed some more, patting Feder on the back. "I do like a man who can keep a secret."

Hart smiled, mystified by any secrecy.

Schmidt spoke up. "The truth is, Owen, like all explorers we don't know exactly where we're going. We've selected an area of interest with an eye to competing national claims and are looking for a possible permanent site for research, but this is of course an investigation of a new world." He took a puff. "You and your fellow pilots will be our eyes, from the air."

Hart nodded. "Well, I've got good eyesight, Dr… Schmidt," he remembered. "You've been to sea before?"

"No, I've volunteered for this opportunity because it will allow me to explore my medical interest: the body in environmental extremes."

"You mean cold?"

"Cold and simplicity. No group of people has ever really inhabited Antarctica, and few plants and animals exist there. What remains, I hope, is medical truth shorn of the complexities and prejudices of our warmer world. To understand polar perils is to take a step toward conquering them, yes?"

"Or avoiding them, as we prudent pilots might advise." The others laughed, and the pilot, encouraged by this good humor, turned to the woman. "And Greta, you're a biologist? Looking at polar bears perhaps?"