The Winter Over(35)

“Observational cosmology,” he said, pushing his glasses up his nose with the knuckle of his thumb. His voice was soft and difficult to hear over the party noise.

“That’s great.” Cass smiled. “What is that?”

“I measure the cosmic background radiation,” he said. When he saw that didn’t help, he said, “The Big Bang.”

“Oh.” She took a slug from her cup and grimaced. The champagne was dry to the point of sour. “Which lab do you work in?”

“COBRA,” he said.

“The microwave telescope?”

“Yes.”

Cass finally nodded in understanding—not about his work, but at least she knew where he was going to spend his days. COBRA, the Cosmic Background Radiation Array, was one of the few outlying buildings that would be staffed throughout the winter. The astronomers who worked at COBRA slept and ate at the Shackleton station, but would spend most of their time alone in the blocky, two-story lab. COBRA was just a hundred meters away from the main base, but in a dark Antarctic winter, it would seem like another planet.

She gave a little shudder. Personal time was important, but there was no way she could spend the lion’s share of the winter stuck in an otherwise empty building, staring at a computer monitor.

“There is only darkness in the winter,” Jun said. “No light means less solar radiation to interfere with the readings.”

“I guess that’s why the lab is in the Dark Sector,” she said, more as a joke than anything.

Jun smiled. “Yes! That is exactly why.”

Mistaking her quip as a wish to know more, Jun embarked on a complicated explanation of the age of the universe in terms so ridiculously large and abstract that the whole thing had the whiff of a joke, then went on to describe those terms with words that sounded as if they’d been plucked from a Dr. Seuss story. Cass didn’t consider herself an intellectual lightweight, but her brain tended toward the concrete and real, not the theoretical, and, despite Jun’s enthusiasm, she found her attention floating away. Her eyes roamed over the crowd.

Pete, tired of cutting the cake into dozens of pieces, had given up and now people were simply grabbing plastic forks and shoveling chunks of cake into their mouths straight from the pan. Biddi already had her arm woven through Dave’s and he looked down at her with a quirked eyebrow and a knowing expression. Cheeks were rosy and easily half the noise in the room came from laughter, although it had a shrill note, as if, upon finding something to laugh about, people wanted to make sure their response was noted and they were having fun . It flavored the celebration with a taste of desperation.

Cass felt a light touch on her arm and turned to Jun. His face was serious. “I’m very sorry.”

“About what, Jun?”

“About Dr. Larkin. You were in the party that found her?”

She felt as though she’d been kneed in the stomach. “I . . . I was, yes. It was sad.”

“Does anyone know what happened?”

“I don’t know . . .” Her voice trailed off as she caught sight of Hanratty at the far end of the galley. “Actually, there’s someone who might. Will you excuse me for a second?”

“Sorry?” Jun asked uncertainly, but Cass had already stepped away, setting a course for the far side of the long room. With his austere expression and skeletal features, Hanratty always stood out, but he was even easier to spot now, as his was the only unsmiling face in the crowd. Maybe a staff party wasn’t the best time to corner the base manager about some unfortunate and uncomfortable events, but he could hardly claim he was too busy to talk. No one was doing any work now, nor would they for the next twenty-four hours.

Cass waded through two dozen people, many of whom smiled and said hello for the first time, showing that the champagne or euphoria of the last day of summer—or both—had gone to work. When she was halfway across the galley, Hanratty seemed to sense her approach and his head rotated in her direction like a gun turret. Without acknowledging her gaze, he turned in place and headed for the exit.

Asshole . Cass got ready to chase the man down, when a hand reached out and gently grabbed her arm. She spun around.

It was Gerald Keene, standing close. He held a cup topped off with champagne. “Leaving so soon, Cass? The party just started.”

“Sorry, Dr. Keene, I really have to go—”

“Nonsense, Cass. They haven’t even fired up the movies yet.” Keene clucked his disapproval. “It’s important to take part in the on-base events, you know. Social interaction is key to long-term psychological health. There won’t be another party like this one until midwinter.”

“Yes, I know,” Cass said, trying to pull her arm away, but his grip tightened.

He leaned in, his breath yeasty and his eyes shining. Cake crumbs decorated his beard. “Be my Valentine?”

She stared at him. “What?”

“A joke, Cass, merely a joke. Tomorrow isn’t just the start of a new season, it’s Valentine’s Day, remember?” He tsked. “You have to learn to loosen up a little. It’s been a trying last couple of days, I know, but winter at the South Pole is a long time to be friendless and alone.”

A knot of disgust formed in her gut, a mélange of anger at Hanratty, her distaste for the circus atmosphere, and Keene’s repulsive demand for levity. Cass backpedaled away from the psychologist and the rest of the party, shoving and pushing her way out of the galley. Plans for confronting Hanratty were forgotten. All she wanted was to get to her room or the garage, lock the door, and forget about Keene, Hanratty, and everything else.