Kaiju Preservation Society(11)

“Why Greenland!” everyone shouted back, except the new people.

“—and we could tell you now, but we’re not going to,” MacDonald said. “Not because we’re cruel—”

“Although we are cruel,” someone interjected, to laughs.

“—but because it’s a tradition to not spoil the surprise. Trust us, it will be worth it. In the meantime, just know none of us knew, either, until we saw it with our own eyes.

“With that out of the way: As usual, the flight to Thule Air Base departs at two a.m., it’s a six-and-a-half-hour flight, and again as usual, we’ll have a mix of civilian and military folks with us on the flight. This means that for the duration you’re going to have to wear your masks”—there were groans—“and I don’t want to hear whining about this. Just because you’re vaccinated doesn’t mean other people are or that you can’t still transmit to the uninoculated, so don’t be an asshole.” More grumbling, but people settled down.

“Now, we’re all supposed to be seated together, but some of you might still have non-KPS people strike up a conversation, so if anyone asks why you’re going to Thule Air Base, use our usual backstory of being Department of the Interior employees doing a geophysical survey of Greenland’s glaciation. For the new people, we use that story because it’s so boring that in the entire history of KPS, no one has ever followed up on it.” Laughter.

“Otherwise, the usual rules apply: Do not talk about KPS business on the flight, or once we land or to anyone who is not KPS. When we arrive, KPS intake personnel will be there to get us on our way, and so on and so forth, you know the drill, and you new folks, just keep an eye on everyone else and follow us. Do not get lost or you stay at Thule Air Base for the winter. You do not want that life for yourself.” More laughter.

“Weather report for Thule is cloudy and overcast but above freezing”—a small bit of cheering here—“with light winds coming in from the east. Rest and relax, call anyone you need to call, get in those last emails and Facebook posts, because it’s all going bye-bye soon. That’s it!”

MacDonald sat back down. The general conversation noise started up again, and people started reaching for their phones.

Niamh was one of them. “Okay, so, having a base named ‘Tanaka’ is not helpful at all,” they said, after a minute. “The first Google references are for a baseball player.”

“I’m on Wikipedia,” Kahurangi said. “It says ‘Tanaka’ is the fourth most common family name in Japan. There are a bunch of notable Japanese with the name.”

“So we have no clue about anything other than we’re going to Greenland,” Aparna said.

“And that we’re probably doing something with polar bears,” I noted.

“Or seals,” Aparna added.

“So, let me ask this,” I said. “I know why I’m here. I was broke and desperate and needed a job or I was going to be homeless and starving. What about you all?”

The newbies all looked at each other. “Pretty much the same?” Kahurangi said.

“It’s a fucking pandemic out there, mate,” Niamh said.

“I’m here because of a bad breakup,” Aparna said. “And, well. Money.”

“It’s like the foreign legion for nerds,” I said, and laughed. “With polar bears.”

“Or seals,” Aparna added.



* * *



A few hours later, we newbies, along with every other KPS staffer, filed out of the Chesapeake Club and boarded a charter plane. As promised we were all seated together, but I was in a row with an unoccupied seat, which was taken by a young airman, who asked me why I was going to Thule. I gave him the line about being from the Department of the Interior. I have never seen someone’s eyes go dead with disinterest that fast. He put on headphones; I went to sleep.

Six and a half hours later, we were at Thule Air Base. I wondered how long we would stay, and the answer was, as long as it took for us to get off the plane, get collected by KPS staff, and shoved into a pair of what I was later told were cold-modified Chinook helicopters, which took off immediately and started heading inland.

“Where are we going?” I asked Tom Stevens, who had waved me over to sit next to him as I got into the helicopter. We had to lean in to each other to talk. “I don’t know much about Greenland, but I do know there’s nothing in the middle of it but glaciers and cold.”

“Okay, see, this is cool,” Tom said. “There was a U.S. base called Camp Century that officially closed in the 1960s. It was a military research base. It had its own nuclear reactor for power that was shut down when the base closed. Right?”

“Okay.”

“It’s a lie,” Tom said. “A cover-up. Camp Century never closed down. Neither did its nuclear reactor. KPS uses it now. That’s where we’re going.”

“We’re going to a secret nuclear base in Greenland?” I said.

“I told you it was cool.”

“Okay, but how do you keep a nuclear base secret?” I asked. I pointed upward. “I don’t know much about physics, but I know the Russians and the Chinese have spy satellites. I’m pretty sure they’d notice, I don’t know, neutrons or whatever.”