Chapter one

Siberia-October

The tires skid sideways, throwing me against the ancient Toyota Land Cruiser’s door and straining the makeshift seat belt. Equipment shifted in the back, and Laura, my current assistant, grunted. The back tires spun and the front wheel couldn’t find purchase despite the truck’s four-wheel drive. I could feel the back tires sinking into the tortured Siberian earth. Throwing the gearshift into neutral, I cut the engine.

“Boards in the back,” I said as I released my seat belt and shoved the door open. Laura followed my lead on her side.

Last week, the temperature had been in the low fifties, with smoke so thick it was almost painful to breathe. A week of rain had dampened the fires but not put them out. This week started with a snowstorm that would turn into a blizzard in the next few days. And still the fires smoldered and flared. The ground was soft, where the thick layers of peat had burned and formed pockets for the blowing snow, creating small pools of mud and debris. The smell of burning peat still filled the air but it was cleaner, sweeter than the acrid smoke of the vast landscape flaming for miles. The snow was slowly lessening the smoke and heat.

Still dangerous, though. I could sense the heat through my boots even as the snow swirled about my head. I reveled in the feel of the heat and the cold, the strangeness of nature so at odds with the feeble efforts of man. Mother Nature had a bizarre sense of humor.

The wind bit and the sun, hazy on the horizon, gave off a blue light. The sun would set soon and the temperature and visibility would plummet. We needed to get out of the mud and back to the huts before nightfall—in twenty minutes.

“You gonna help?” asked Laura.

“The truck isn’t going anywhere unless we can give the wheels some traction. Just wedge the boards in front of the back tires. I’ll be there in a minute. I need to get a few more air samples.”

“You and your damn samples.”

“What was that?”

The sounds of equipment being moved and the wood planks being slid from the cargo section covered any reply she might have made.

Laura would get the boards in place, and I would get the data I needed. Eighteen minutes left. Four minutes to collect the data.

Four-and-a-half minutes later, the truck pulled free of the morass and back onto the snow-covered peat. Avoiding the sunken divots that pockmarked the field was akin to a chess match where a misstep would put us back in the gray-yellow frozen patches of sludge. The wind picked up and snow swirled around the vehicle.

Steam was rising from the snow in multiple locations, creating new depressions. Last year, they believed the Siberian winter would kill the fires. However, the peat below the frozen landscape had held its heat and fully formed wildfires had sprung back to life with the late spring heat. Zombie wildfires. Crazy name for a crazy phenomenon.

“Dr. Peterson?” Laura asked over the creak and groan of the truck.

“How many times do I have to tell you to just call me Jo?”

“Our permit is void after tomorrow. I don’t want to end up in a Russian prison. Dr. Zharkov was very firm about our departure.”

“The plane out is at six thirty a.m. You’ll be on it.” Out and safe from politics and the coming storm. It was the best I could do.

“Will you be going with me?” Laura sounded hopeful.

“It’s the mail plane with only room for one passenger. You’ll be taking our data out.”

“Aren’t you scheduled to present at the World Meteorologists Conference in Dubai?”

She was right. But what was a conference compared to a real weather event? There was nothing to say I couldn’t do both. I could feel the smile on my lips as we pulled up to the hut, the last light fading to black. Eighteen minutes. Dr. Zharkov’s warning was just that, a warning. He didn’t want to report me. He wanted me out of his hair. Out of sight, out of mind. Plus I knew I could get the visa extended. “I’m going to ride a Yakutian horse. And there’s an interesting blizzard heading this way.”

As I exited the vehicle, my mind filled with the crunch of the snow beneath the horse’s feet and the condensation of my breath in the frigid air. Solitude and no responsibility.

My coat pocket vibrated. I snatched my satellite phone from its resting place. Few people had my number—only immediate work contacts, which I deleted regularly, and my one friend, Ty.

I stared down at the screen. A picture of a smiling woman looked up at me. I swiped to answer. “What?”

“And hello to you too.” Ty’s voice was clear and chipper as if she was standing next to me.

“You know I’m on assignment,” I grumbled.

“And I know your assignment ends today and your visa expires tomorrow. Or were you thinking of overstaying your welcome?”

Laura watched me with interest, her brown eyes magnified by her thick glasses. I never got phone calls. I turned away and walked toward the back of the vehicle. The snow was coming down harder. I shivered and pulled up the hood of my parka with my free hand.

“You know me so well. Still, you don’t normally call me when I’m in the field. What do you need? Am I getting credit notices again?” As I didn’t have a place of residence, I used Ty’s address for snail mail.

“What? I can’t call and talk to you?”

Anything I said would be used against me, so I stayed silent.

Papers shuffled on the other end of the line. “What do you know about the Antarctica Treaty?”

Antarctica. I shoved my hand into my coat pocket. The one continent I hadn’t been to yet. “Signed at the height of the Cold War, the treaty went into effect in 1961 to protect the continent from exploitation, to be used exclusively for scientific research and other peaceful pursuits. I think there were twelve original signers, though only the US, Australia, Russia, Argentina, and the UK have territories which have never been formalized. It’s been signed by a bunch of other countries over the years. No mining, no military actions, and the agreement to keep it pristine. How’d I do professor?”

“Not bad,” Ty said. “You missed the part where the treaty comes up for review every two years. There is renewed interest from the State Department and the National Science Foundation in the polar regions. In the Arctic, the Northwest Passage is opening earlier and earlier. Russia and China are building icebreakers. In Antarctica, the Chinese have built four research facilities in the Australian zone, with another coming online soon.”

I shook my head. “Whoa. That’s a lot of information. What’s this got to do with you?” I wasn’t seeing the connection. Ty worked for NASA, not for the NSF or the State Department.

“I’m leading a scientific team that will winter over in Antarctica. Isolation, small area food production, and ice sheet movements.”

Winter over in Antarctica. How cool was that? “That’s great.” It was great and I was jealous, except for the leading part.

“NSF Polar Expeditions Division that manages Amundsen-Scott Pole Station has been in conversation with some private companies. GICE Corp. has been trying to get a space research mission focused specifically on Mars to study a variety of topics in extreme conditions. They talked and decided on this Antarctica mission. There will be three teams, of which ours will be one.” GICE stood for Ganymede, Io, Callisto, Europa, named after Jupiter’s four largest moons. It was run by Cid Balkner, a billionaire with money to burn.

“Why Antarctica?”

“Most of the studies, including isolation studies have been done where there’s an out. There is no out at the South Pole. No one can get in or out for seven to eight months.”

That’s one of the reasons it was so fascinating to me. Harsh conditions and isolation. And the weather. “Congratulations! You deserve to lead the mission.”

“Wanna go?”

My heart leaped.

“Before you get too excited, it would be part of a ten-woman team. The commitment is just under two years.”

The pressure in my chest increased but not in a good way. Too much time with too many people.

Ty’s voice was soft but firm. “I need you, Jo. You have skills I don’t have. You see things and have an attention to detail that I lack. Plus, you call me on my bullshit. I need that. The fact that you’re a meteorologist helps. The team needs that, too.”

“You don’t trust me to show up?” I paced behind the truck. The sound of my footfalls and the motion gave me some small comfort.

“Oh, I think you’ll show up.”

“But…” I sighed. “I can hear it in your voice.”

“You chase shiny things,” Ty said.

“Antarctica is pretty shiny.”

I could almost hear the wheels turning in Ty’s head. “I’m not asking you to climb into a confining box of expectation. Your adventurous spirit, brilliance, and way of looking at problems are what I want. I don’t want you to hide who you are.”

“You just want a commitment.” It wasn’t a question. I knew what she was asking. Commitment wasn’t my strong point. Weather was transitory and so was I. “You know I’m not good with people.”

“Wrong. You are good with people. People just scare you.”

I huffed. “You scare me.”

Ty laughed. “I need an answer. We’ve got several months of training, planning, thirteen months at the Pole, and then time for the debrief.”

The pressure in my chest was building again. NO was on the tip of my tongue.

“I know you haven’t committed to anything since grad school and even that was touch and go,” she said. “Jo, I pulled your ass out of the fire with Dr. Franklin three times. When you took off that last time to chase tornados, I was sure she’d washed her hands of you.”

“Tornados are interesting. I didn’t want to lead that grant proposal Dr. Franklin wanted, even if it got my doctoral thesis approved. When do you need an answer?” I wanted time. And a way out.

Ty was silent for a few seconds. “I need an answer now. Training starts soon and I need to get the physicals set up for you.”

“I’m in Siberia. I have things to do.” There was more than one physical? Pressure moved from my chest to my head, my flight mechanism on high alert.

“I’ve booked the first part of your physical for the end of next week,” she said.

“Hey, I have a life. I can’t just drop everything.” I rocked from side to side.

“Your visa expires tomorrow. You need to come home.” As if sensing my edginess, she added, “Jo, you can’t keep running.”

I wasn’t so sure about that. All I had to do was disconnect the line. Bad connection. Not my fault.

“Jo, breathe. You can do this. I need you.” Ty’s voice was calm and trusting.

And there it was. Ty needed me. Ty, who had always been there for me, needed me. I could do this. Ty, who trusted I’d help her, as I couldn’t help myself. What was two years? Twenty-four months. Seven hundred and thirty days…Did I have to round up? Was there a leap year in there somewhere? My heart was beating too fast. Breathe. Ty needs me. I can do this. She’d surprised me on purpose, not to scare me away but to make me choose to support her. She’d baited the hook well.

“Okay.” It came out weak and without conviction. I understood the terms. I said it again. “Okay.” Agreement. The pressure in my chest hadn’t lessened. I still wanted to run but Ty was right. And I hated it when she was right.

“Okay,” Ty said.

My two okays meant I had bought in. Ty’s okay meant she’d taken me at my word. I was a runner, not a liar.