The Abdominal Snowman

Chastity's words were fast and pressured. She was afraid if she didn't get them out as quickly as she could, she might have to admit Leo had a point.

"That's different and you know it. It's my job. I'm a trained fighter—you do research."

"I wasn't always tucked away in a lab or classroom, Leo. I did fieldwork before Ashford spread that damned retrovirus over half the city and took my life away from me. Can you imagine what that's like? To have everything taken away just because you wanted a burger and fries in an outdoor café at the wrong time? I did amazing things before that! I survived a forest of man-eating trees and a sentient giant spider in an African jungle. I hunted wild chupacabra in the Andes. I tracked sasquatch alone through the Oregon Badlands. And do I need to remind you about the fucking dinosaurs? My future was gone, Leo, but now I have a chance to get it back."

"I'm not saying you haven't been lucky. This is different."

Chastity zipped her expedition pack closed, hard. "I know what you're trying to do," she said as she leaned forward to meet Leo's gunmetal blue gaze. "I know you mean well, but you need to stop. I wasn't lucky. I'm not some dainty little buttercup that needs protected; I've taken down people too—murderers—three men in this bed and one on the floor just to the left of where you're standing. They tried to kill me; I killed them first."

His eyes dropped and his jaw went a little less rigid, changes that hit Chastity right in the heart and made her feel immediate regret.

"Besides," she continued. "Something else is going on. A yeti tribe in Antarctica is big, but it doesn't warrant this kind of secrecy. Something bigger is at stake here and if I'm going to help Chauncey, I need to find out what Pauline is hiding."

"You'll be down there without any backup. You don't even know who's there besides a hundred-and-something year old geriatric professor-friend, or who's on the backup team."

"I won't exactly be alone," Chastity said, smiling. "Isn't that right, Alex."

"Correctamundo." Instead of the hidden wall speakers, the voice came from the comm-cuff that Chastity had appropriated—and refused to return—when she was wormholed to the past to corral a few dozen mad scientists. "And I'm so soo soooo excited. It's my very first vacation."

*

"Is there any indication that Adams knows?"

"Nothing concrete," Pauline said. "But we should proceed under the assumption he does. When the AI reestablished contact, we got copies of his reports and private logs—nothing was suggestive in those—but he did bypass protocols to send a message to an outsider—a former student and colleague. He told her about the deaths, but was intentionally vague on everything else. If he doesn't know, he suspects."

Charles McMurtey, Director of the Deangstrom Research Institute—better known in the public by its nickname, the Think Tank—turned from the tall window in the corner of Pauline's office and strode around the room in the slow circle of a panther stalking its prey. "So I saw. It's an interesting coincidence that he contacted Miss Summers. We at the institute recently had dealings with her. What is their connection?"

"He taught at the Trans-Allegheny Community College when her doctorate was conferred. I cross-checked their files and found four expeditions they were on together—the standard small college fare, nothing memorable."

McMurtey's circle tightened around the woman and he stared down at her with stark, suspicious eyes. "You spoke to her—gave her permission to go on the backup mission. You didn't mention that when you sent the data files this morning. She could ruin everything."

"I forwarded the data packet as soon as I came in. She was here first thing in the morning—I hadn't even had a chance to finish my tea or decompress the data download for myself. How was I to know you had a history with her?" Pauline rose from her seat behind the desk and matched McMurtey's glower. "She threatened to send the video to the news. That would have ruined everything. And," the word was stiletto sharp, "I'm still unclear about the 'incident' that Chauncey referenced, and why he thinks someone on the team has a murderous intent. Is that something you might have an idea about?"

"I, like you, Pauline, haven't a clue."

"I'm quite sure you don't," Pauline replied.

McMurtey relaxed his pose. "What does Summers know about the mission?"

"I briefed her on the yeti—gave her access to the redacted file." Pauline slid open the top desk drawer, and withdrew a ragged, leather-bound book that had blackened with age. The ghost of gilded letters lingered on the cover. W. Dyer, Field Journal #2. "She has no clue about what's hidden in the mountain. Only you and I have read this—we're the only people alive who know."

McMurtey reached across the desk and took the book from Pauline's hand. "One of mankind's most significant discoveries, buried away and forgotten in the pages of some obscure geologist's journal. It's extraordinary that you came across it." He flipped through the brittle pages and examined the tidy handwriting of the entries, some illegible from ink faded almost to the color of the aged paper.

"Think of the patents you can develop from it," Pauline said.

"I think you're more interested in a steady flow of funding from the Think Tank to your department than any of my patents," McMurtey said. He closed the book and slid it back across the desk. "A generosity that will continue as long as you deliver the samples, and make sure Professor Adams and the girl don't interfere."

*

The only activity as they entered the camp was the occasional back-and-forth skitter of maintenance robots that darted in and out of the shadows like mechanical mice. Chastity noted the placement of each building and turn as in the narrow alleyways as she followed her teammates to the communication center. It had been over two years since her last expedition, and, though procedures may have changed in that time, the layout of this camp seemed to be more complicated than the norm. She noted more buildings than were typically necessary. Many didn't have signs or markers to indicate their intended use or the contents they held. Outside of that, all appeared ordinary, at least until they arrived at their destination. There the illusion of normality cracked. At the door to the communication center, Chastity had to step around a frozen slick of crimson slowly being obscured by the falling snow to enter the building.

The spattered trail continued through the flap into the tent. That there had been a fight was obvious. Black cargo containers had been tossed aside, their contents scattered across the floor. A dried arc of arterial spray trailed down the tent wall, ending in a clotted pool. Whatever the blood had come from was gone now, dragged out the door, leaving the smudged trail in its wake. The computer console was shot through, perforated by a horizontal line of bullet holes across the processor and screen.

Pauline's face was an iron mask as she stood in the center of the tent, inches away from where a body had to have bled out. The only hint of emotion was in her eyes; they were glassy and damp and lingered on the transition between the crusted crimson pool and the sterile white of the floor. Her words were so low Chastity almost mistook them for a sigh. "I'm so sorry, Chauncey."

"We don't know that he's dead," Chastity broke in, not confident in the reasoning behind her words. "We don't know that that's his blood. We need to secure the camp and search for the team."

Pauline nodded at the man who acted as Pauline's second on this team. "Caleb, start the search. I can't..." Her voice cracked and the words came to a hard stop in her throat. She made her way out the door.

Caleb Burns ended his methodical assessment of the scene and pulled the hood of his parka back over his head. "Come on, men, time to earn our pay." The three other men on the rescue team grunted in agreement. "Summers?"

"I'd just be in your way. Somebody has to collect a sample to analyze and compare against the DNA records."

Caleb's eyes moved from the blood to the sparking console and back to Chastity. "Don't touch anything else."

"Wouldn't think of it," she lied through a smile that she hoped didn't look as fabricated as it felt.

As soon as Caleb was out the door and the nanomesh seam resealed, Chastity hurried to the computer console. The main interface screen was dead, its shiny black surface pushed through with a sweeping line of gunshot holes. A secondary screen, undamaged, flickered between black and grey. She swiped and tapped but it remained unresponsive. The computer still had power, though, so there was potential.

"Alex, is there any way you can access its data?"

There was a barely-perceptible hum in the comm-cuff.

"Its wireless systems are active but trapped in a reboot loop. You'll have to connect me manually through a data port. Once that's done, I can disable the security protocols and overwrite their AI with a copy of my files."

Chastity popped a metal access cover on open the console and unspooled a thin cable to plug into the comm-cuff's port. The working console screen flashed a solid white and Alex's avatar compiled in the center.

"It's a mess in here," he said as his eyes skimmed up and down and left and right, as if he were examining something just beyond the edges of the screen. "I can access portions of the data, but it'll take time."

"Is there any footage of what happened here?"

Cycling images from the camp's security cameras replaced Alex on the screen.

"Partial footage. I've rewound to the timestamp on Professor Adams's message to you. It's all outside. Nothing shows what happened inside the tent." Images flashed across the screen. Fuzzy. Blurred from falling snow and locking up for long seconds due to the damage done to the system. One camera had been aimed out across the ice plain, set to thermal imaging; something on it moved, a blot of color hotter than the background, growing in size and shifting from purples to yellows to red as it closed in on the basecamp. Whatever it was, it was big, somewhere between six and seven feet and broader than a human frame.

The corners of Chastity's lips lifted into a smile. She was seeing a yeti, if only in infrared.

"It ends there." The footage came to an abrupt end and Alex's avatar reappeared on the screen. "The data crystal with the security footage is too damaged to pull more information from. I'll reconstruct what I can, but it will take time."

"I can't sit here for hours tied to this thing." She flicked a finger at the cable running between the comm-cuff and console.

"No need for you to. I've cloned my files and uploaded them to the console. Were you not listening? I've overwritten the camp's AI. As soon as you disconnect, you'll have two local copies of me working in tandem."

"Two of you. How am I ever going to stand it?"

"Double your pleasure, double your..." Alex's eyes stopped their left-right skim and focused on the bottom of the screen, on a line of scrolling code. "This is interesting: a discrepancy that the damage doesn't account for. Someone removed a data crystal from the console."

"You're sure it wasn't shot through?"

"Positive. The logs show it was removed sixty-three seconds before system failure."

"Can you recover what was on it?"

"Not the data, but reference logs might still be intact."

"Keep me up on the progress... Everyone on the team is tracker tagged. Can you show me their locations?"

A map of the camp lit up on the square screen of her comm-cuff. A red crosshair marked her location and green crosshairs marked the others. Four moved in a methodical sweep around the camp perimeter. Three more were unmoving in the long rectangle at the center of the camp marked Mess Hall. One was tagged Eastburn, the others as Classified. Classified. A word that served as a reminder that something other than ordinary was going on.

"Can you override the lockout on the trackers? Show me who is in there?"

The tracker tags flickered and pixilated, and for a fraction of a second shifted into names but reverted back to Classified before Chastity could read them. Alex gave an uncharacteristically long pause before he said, "They're running an algebraic lattice-based encryption system. I don't have the computing power available to decrypt the information."

Chastity stared at the two anonymous tags with Pauline. Members of the expedition team—maybe even Professor Adams.

*

Chastity took careful steps, light and slow to lessen the collapse and crunch of ice and snow underfoot, along the back wall of the mess hall. It was nearing winter in the southern hemisphere and the charcoal haze of the short day gave way to a darkness solid enough move through unseen. A gleam of warm light leaked out the single window on the back of building. She crouched and peeked through to do a quick count. Pauline, arms crossed tightly across her chest. The other two she recognized from the expedition files Pauline had grudgingly shared. Amanda Dawson sat silently at the far end of the long table, her eyes tired and downcast. She was haggard, middle-aged, and more infamous than esteemed. She had been caught up in a falsified article scandal about five years ago. The other, a man talking loud enough for Chastity to hear through the glass, was Doug Sanders, the original expedition leader. That left only Professor Adams and the doctoral student, Chris Clydesworth unaccounted for.

"It all went to fuck. The knockout gas you gave us was useless. It didn't have any effect."

"Did you get the samples?"

"Christ, Pauline!" The skin covering Amanda knuckles was taut and white as she thumped her hands against the table. "Chris is missing. Allie is alone in the caves. Chauncey is—"

"I'm aware," Pauline's words cut, razor-sharp, through Amanda's. "A security team is sweeping the camp. Drones are monitoring the cave entrances. Nothing can be done for the others at the moment, so again: do you have the samples?"

Doug answered. "No." He firmed himself against the pressure of Pauline's scowl and continued, "Adams was engaging the animals. Everything was on point until one of them spotted Allie slipping into the secondary entrance. They became aggressive. We tried the gas; it didn't work. They attacked."

"Why did you deviate from the plan? The retrieval robot has the most advanced cloaking system in the world. All that was required of you was to help gain the yeti's trust, distract them, and let the robot obtain the samples."

"The robot failed. We lost contact with it within hours of its launch."

"That technology doesn't fail," Pauline said.

"Apparently it does."

"We lost the little trust we had," Amanda added. "We don't have a chance of getting near now."

"We don't know that Allie was taken," Doug said. "She's an expert in stealth maneuvers; she could have made it to the deep cavern."

Pauline rubbed her temples. "Have you been able to establish contact with her?"

"No."

"I designated you as the lead on this, Douglas, because you have a reputation for efficiency and getting the job done. If you think I will rely on a maybe—maybe Allie made it to the deep cavern—maybe Allie is collecting the sample as we speak—you don't understand the gravity of the situation. Charles McMurtey has a special interest in this expedition and he's not the kind of man that will accept: 'We tried really, really hard but failed. Sorry.'"

The arctic air burned the tender lining of Chastity's nose and throat as she took in a deep, stunned breath. McMurtey, there was no way she could have misunderstood Pauline's words. Doug must have felt a similar chill, as a sudden pallor drove the flush from his cheeks. Pauline was in bed The Think Tank.

"What are our alternatives?" Doug asked. "Adams was the only one those things trusted. They'll attack if we approach."

"Chauncey should have been brought in," Amanda's voice was so low Chastity barely heard it, the sound of it all wet and mushy—the voice of someone being crushed under the weight of impossible choices. "If he knew the real objective he could have negotiated. If you had included him in he wouldn't be dead."

"Then there's only one route left." Pauline ignored Amanda's words and tapped the button on her communicator. "Caleb, unload the attack drones; we're going to clear the caves."

"Clear the caves?" Amanda straightened slightly in her seat. Anxiety glistened in her eyes and her gaze flitted between Pauline and Doug like a wounded bird. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that you knew the mission as soon as you set foot on the ice, Amanda."

Chastity crept from the window. She didn't have a lot of time.

*

Chastity spoke quickly and quietly into her comm-cuff. "Alex, go through all of Chauncey's files—go through everything. Break into the main computer—break into anything you can. Find any reference of Charles McMurtey, the Think Tank, Pauline, anything referencing the cave or a deep cavern—any damned thing that seems out of place."

"Isn't everything about this expedition out of place?"

Chastity couldn't disagree.

"Drones," she said, recalling the most important thing that she overheard, other than the Think Tank's involvement in the expedition. "Whatever Pauline is really here for, she's willing to kill the yeti to get it. Can you do something to the drones? Stop them?"

"Stop them, maybe. It will depend on their armoring. Delay them, definitely."

"I don't think I've ever heard you say 'maybe' before. That isn't like you."

"Some of the technology here exceeds standard military grade. Excessive for a normal expedition—beyond cutting edge. You're lucky I'm beyond cutting edge, too."

"Toot your own horn later. How long can you hold them back?"

"Three hours, maybe four if you don't mind mild harm."

"Shoot for the four. Be creative—just don't kill anyone. Any chance there's a weapons stockpile anywhere?"

A smiley face lit on the comm-cuff screen and gave a pixilated wink. "Out the door. Third building on the left. I already overrode the lock for you."

*

The weapons cache was impressively overdone. A dozen handguns lined the far wall. Blasters of assorted sizes were laid out on shelves below. Strongboxes with sundries of varied deadliness were stacked in every corner. If Leo were here, Little Leo would be at half-mast. Chastity grabbed a holster and buckled a plasma blaster—set to stun—to one hip and a machete to the other. The night could bring anything, and she definitely wouldn't give a damn about putting a bullet in Pauline's kneecap, but she didn't want to kill if it could be avoided. Still, she didn't want to be unprepared, so she went through the stock and stuffed in guns, a box of bullets, and a box of maybe-grenades labeled that was marked a series of hexagonal shapes into a canvas cargo bag.

Chastity lifted a large tarp and looked underneath. Biostasis specimen containers. No help from that. She dropped the tarp back in place and continued on.

The last container she opened was half empty. Six stainless steel canisters were left in their slots. Each had a ZZZ logo on it.

Chastity picked up one of the cylinders and rolled her fingertip around the ring connected to the arming pin. It was unlabeled, but could only be one thing—Doug had only mentioned one weapon used.

The knockout gas.

Useless, that was the word Doug had used.

Except... maybe not.

"Alex, do you think you can get everyone to the mess hall?"

*

Chastity's mind wandered as she waited for Alex to work his technological magic. She had retraced her steps and crouched in the familiar spot behind the mess hall. She was distracted, hypnotized almost, by the drifting trails of the few falling snowflakes. Leo. Her thoughts kept drifting back to Leo. She had left him so easily to jump willingly onto a transport pod with people she didn't know and didn't trust. What about that was more appealing? He was the only thing in her life that gave her a sense of stability. Wasn't that a good thing? She wanted that, didn't she? Stability?