It didn’t take the Captain long to come to the conclusion that the Russian did not find his way onto the Aussie aircraft by accident, nor did it require a massive leap of inspiration to figure out how. He’d take care of her in a minute. Meanwhile, he had some other Russians to deal with, and he knew it wasn’t going to be pretty. How was he to explain that a group of tree-hugging fruitcakes had kidnapped a visiting scientist right out from under his nose? The short answer was that it didn’t really matter. They wouldn’t believe a word of it anyway. Now he had to manage the consequences of having taken the refugee himself, without actually getting anything out of it. Maybe none of them could speak English.
Gregore was gesturing with his good arm in the general direction of the retreating Otter as the Captain approached, and shouting in angry Russian. He had seen what had happened and assumed that the Captain was responsible.
“Okay, Nellie,” the Captain said, too pissed himself to care about anything the Russian had to say, even if he could have understood it. “Get your knickers out of their twist and put a cork in it.”
“Who is this Nellie, and what is knickers?” asked a Russian who came in on the vehicle to pick the others up.
“You speak English?” the Captain asked him.
“Does it sound like I speak English? Where have you taken our man? You have admitted that you are exploiting the Soviet Unions’ peaceful cooperation in an attempt to colonize the Antarctic with imperial intentions. Do you think that taking our people will help you? We demand that you bring him back immediately.”
Gregore had been shouting at the Caption through the entire exchange, but now paused to listen to his English speaking comrade, who translated what was said for him. When the translation was finished, he turned back towards the Captain and resumed shouting and shaking his fist at him.
“Can you do something about this?” the Captain asked the translator, holding his arms out helplessly, with palms facing Gregore. “So we can talk?”
There was another exchange in Russian, but this time when it ended Gregore lifted his head proudly, though silently, and glared at the Captain.
“Thank you,” he said appreciatively. “We didn’t take your guy.”
“You deny…”
“Yes, yes, I deny. Can you listen for a minute? A group of enviro-maniacs must have gotten hold of the same misinformation that you guys did, and showed up here the same time as you. And I just happen to be lucky enough to have one of them who works for me (he exaggerated) who convinced them that taking your man would somehow help them. They are terrorists; you can see what they did to our equipment,” the Captain said, pointing to the drill site.
The Russians had seen the attack on the drill, and were now discussing the situation in a more contemplative tone.
“What are you going to do to catch these terrorists?” the translator asked.
“Well, we haven’t gotten that far yet.” He turned back toward the hut and saw Dr. Fredricks walking his way. “But I think that in the same spirit of friendly cooperation that we have always shared in the Antarctic, we would invite whomever you would like to send to join us in McMurdo while we pursue our options.”
There was another discussion and Gregore listened to the translator explain. He nodded once, curtly, and it was decided. He and the translator would come to McMurdo. The others would proceed to Vostok.
“Good,” the Captain said, relieved to have gotten off so easily, and with the added bonus of there being no talk of defections. He was more than happy to pin the whole mess on the Greenies, with Susan Engen as their accomplice. Maybe he could solve a number of inconvenient problems all at the same time. And everyone said this post would be boring.