Free Ice Reich by William Dietrich Page A

him. In truth, he was a bit intimidated by her. Once he caught her looking at him, her expression opaque, and could think of nothing intelligent to say.
    Then she approached again.
    The pilot was sitting on a hatch cover, enjoying a watery sun in a hazy sky. To occupy himself he'd found some line and was splicing two rope ends together.
    "You do that as if from long experience," came a female voice. He looked up, startled. She was carrying binoculars and a book about seabirds, the wind pressing one side of her coat against her figure and snapping the other end free like a flag. She pointed to his splices. "Were you a seaman as well as a pilot?"
    She'd caught him by surprise, and he hesitated a moment before replying. "No, Fritz taught me." Her skin was rosy from the unaccustomed midwinter sun and wind, he noticed. "I'm a landlubber."  
    "A what?"
    "It's an American word for someone who's never been to sea. I grew up in Montana, a mountain state. I'd never been on the ocean until my first trip south."
    "I like the mountains too. Have you been to the Alps?"
    "Afraid not. Not even in Leni's movies."
    She smiled at the reference and, without asking, sat down, opening the book on her lap. The pages fluttered in the wind. Hart was a bit surprised at this overture; he thought he'd muddled things sufficiently at supper. Now here she was, pretending as if nothing had happened.
    "Is it a good place, Montana?"
    "A wonderful place to grow up for a boy. Riding, fishing, climbing, caving."
    "Caving?"
    "Spelunking. There were caverns not far from our place. Beautiful limestone ones. We were warned not to go in them but we'd sneak off anyway with candles and lanterns, crawling around and getting stuck. Lucky we didn't get lost. We'd come home pretending we'd gone someplace else but our mothers had to know. We stank of them."
    "You had a lot of freedom then."
    "They let us run wild. And you?"
    She laughed. "Convent school. My father far away. Nuns. Sin. Guilt."
    "My God."
    "Oh, not so bad. But this is my chance to run to freedom."
    "It's the only thing worth running to," he said.
    For a moment she didn't say anything, then: "How did you become a pilot?"
    "Took a dollar ride at a county fair and was hooked. I saved up during a summer of riding and roping and bought myself flying lessons. I became a barnstormer. A wild one, actually. At eighteen you think you're immortal. I had more guts than sense until I cracked up a couple times. Then I ran cargo, chartered, and did a lot of cold weather flying. I met Elliott Farnsworth at an air show, and the rest, as they say, is history."
    "And no woman in this history?"
    "That's a forward kind of inquiry."
    "It's the only inquiry any woman cares to know. Surely you've learned that by now."
    He grinned. "You're not very coy, are you?"
    "I am when I want to be."
    "Well. The girls I knew would tell you I've learned nothing about your gender. Yes, there were women— even a woman— but it didn't last. A pilot is about as stable as a hummingbird. And Antarctica is not a place conducive to romance."
    She laughed at that, and Hart sensed she was laughing at herself. "Too bad!"
    "Too cold. And if we're being so inquisitive, let me ask you about men in your history."
    "Ah. Well. That's a complicated story." She looked across the waves. "I'm not married, if that's what you mean. I... I hope to do a lot of thinking down here."
    "About Jürgen?"
    She looked away. "No. About me."
    Her tone made him cautious. "All right. Fair enough."
    They were quiet for a bit. He sensed her approval at the quiet; it felt companionable to watch the swells hiss by. Finally she turned to him again. "Would you like to see my laboratory?"
    It was on the main deck, just above the waterline. A single porthole offered natural illumination. A microscope was bolted to a wooden table, shelves held scientific books and journals in German, and cabinets stored beakers and tubes. Small translucent shrimplike creatures floated in jars of