Welcome to the planet
Welcome to existence
Everyone's here
"So, what do you think it is, Grace? An alien aircraft? An old carrier?"
She tried hard to make sense of the chess board and its pieces laid out in front of her, its white and gray pieces just as white and gray as everything else in that place. You would think that they'd want something red or blue to break the incredible monotony of it all, but no. Every wall, every piece of furniture apparently had to match the grayish outside. Those thoughts were some of the reasons why sometimes it was hard to stay focused on something like a chess game. The move she made guaranteed her at least one more round – she wasn't able to think past that.
"I don't know, Greg. As long as nothing bursts out of anyone's chest, I'm good."
"That's... gross."
He didn't get the reference and she rolled her eyes, wishing someone reminded her of why she was stranded in that base with a clumsy kid who had never seen Alien. Greg had enlisted for the army when he was still in college, and joined shortly after he got out. From everything he had done since they arrived at Greenland, Grace could see that he was very skilled with engines, not so much with people. Only she knew the torture that it was to spend more than a couple of minutes with him, but she didn't have much of a choice. They did have one thing in common, though: they both accepted the fact that, if no one needed them, things were going good.
"All I know is that it must be something big, otherwise the feds wouldn't bother coming to this dead end."
"Feds... yeah, right. Do you really buy that?"
"Please tell me everything about your conspiracy theory, Greg. I can't wait to hear it."
He held up his little metal horse in the air for a couple of seconds before making a killer move. Damn, he was smart.
"All right, all right. You wanna mock me, go ahead."
"As if I needed another reason to mock you."
"Shut up."
"Lieutenant. Shut up, Lieutenant Moore."
"And with this... Lieutenant Moore has lost her 8th chess game in a row. Check mate."
Grace sat back and took a sip from her coffee, which was the only thing that warmed her from the inside out and somehow helped her keep her sanity in check. He proceeded to put the pieces back in their places, and her mind wandered to the day when she volunteered to be stationed there. Back then, she longed for peacefulness and calm, but after a couple of months, it was too calm and too peaceful. Why could she never be satisfied with what she had? Greg interrupted her line of thought.
"You know, feds are often called when..."
The sound of the door being unlocked prevented him from finishing his explanation, and Grace was rather thankful for that interruption. But the feeling quickly vanished.
"Moore! We need you out here, now! Bring the kit."
Greg couldn't help smiling.
"Go on, Lieutenant. Prove me wrong."
Grace's features grew darker by the second, as she geared up to go outside – vest, sweater, coat, boots, gloves, goggles, and finally a rather heavy bag that contained her kit, all of that as fast as one can be with that many layers of clothing. On her way out, she listened as Greg wished her good luck, and it looked like she would need it. The moment she stepped outside, the merciless wind struck her, freezing the skin on her face; that weather wasn't made for humans to endure. The freezing temperature was the same as it was 8 hours ago, the last time she had gone outside; the landscape was not. Out of thin air, they had transformed icy plains into a facility that looked like government, smelled like government, yet she couldn't define whose it was. Feds? She didn't think so, although she'd never admit that Greg was right.
"Moore! Over here!"
She saw Major's hands waving in the snowy air, and marched on towards him, her boots sinking into the snow. He was standing in front of a lit up, tent-like structure which reminded her as the one she had worked in, back in the desert. Well, here was as much as a desert – the only difference was that instead of sand, there was snow.
"Scott! What happened?"
He took off his goggles and sighed. By the look on his face, Grace thought that someone got badly injured.
"We need you to take a look at something... someone."
He didn't correct himself in time. He had said "something", and it freaked her out. Grace had seen a lot of things in her life, but she wasn't quite ready to see an alien yet. The puzzled look on Grace's face demanded answers, but Scott said nothing else; he just turned around and stepped inside – or he tried to. A forceful hand prevented him from going any further than the front door.
"I'm sorry sir, but I can't let you pass."
Scott was big, but the guard was two times his size. Grace was liking this situation less and less by the minute.
"All right, can you please tell Agent Coulson that Major Scott is here to see him?"
"Agent?" Grace thought out loud, and kept on talking as the guard checked the information with someone from inside the tent. "What the hell is going on, Scott?"
"Calm down, Moore."
"Don't tell me to-"
"Scott."
The guard had come back with another man, and he had "agent" written all over him.
"Coulson."
"This way."
Scott felt Grace's eyes frying him up for not telling her anything, but he couldn't even if he wanted to: he didn't know what was going on either. They were directed to a desk and Grace was grateful to be able to step into a warm place and set her bag down on the floor. She tried to read something, anything, on Coulson's face – she got nothing.
"And she is?"
"Lt. Moore, sir, our nurse in charge."
"Nurse?"
That look was one that Grace recognized. The one that said "nurses don't know shit and I want a doctor". Scott also recognized it and anticipated Grace's reaction, intervening before she could say a word.
"She's... your best shot, sir."
"And how's a nurse exactly my best shot?"
"Well... you said your doctor is... inoperative, and..."
He was thinking too much for her standards.
"And I was stationed for a year and a half in Iraq, sir. Is that good enough of a shot?"
Since she was still gazing intently at the agent, she could see that he tried to conceal a smile. Now Grace knew how to talk to him.
"That'll do. I need you to sign this."
He pointed at a sheet on a table to his right, crammed with clauses, and on top, a big "Non-Disclosure Agreement" title. At a glance, Grace made out the words privileged, confidential, discharge, imprisonment. It couldn't get any worse.
"Why... where's the other one?"
"We don't need another one. You will enter alone."
Enter where? To do what?
"Sir, I think-"
"Sorry, Major Scott. This is a highly classified situation. I'm sure you can comprehend it."
Grace felt her stomach dropping and it was just a piece of paper. But all the questions that were itching in her head would only be answered if she signed it. Coulson folded the document neatly and tucked it into his jacket pocket, and she picked up her bag.
"This way, Lieutenant."
They passed a set of heavy curtains, leaving Scott behind; passed by a woman in white, laying on a gurney.
"Is that your inactive doctor?"
Coulson looked behind his shoulder.
"Yes. Couldn't handle it. I hope you're as tough as Scott said you are."
"I served the military in a war zone, agent."
He stopped in front of a group of people that stopped on their tracks as we arrived.
"I don't think you've seen anything like this before, Lieutenant."
As they made way for them, Grace repeated in her head, "please don't let it be an alien, please don't let it be an alien, please-"
It wasn't an alien. Actually, it was just a man. All those people vanished from Grace's sight; she approached the gurney where he lay motionless... and partly covered by pieces of ice, which were now defrosting and dripping onto puddles on the floor. The military never really left her: it was like she was back in the conflict zone, seeing a soldier with a broken limb. You always have that first impact, because it's a gut, human feeling; it goes away in a second and suddenly she was thinking clearer than ever. The gravity of the situation forced her concentration, that was what she was good at. Grace shut her mind to anything other than the man in front of her.
"I can't do anything with all this ice over him – you", she demanded, turning around to the group who was now looking at her, "do whatever you need to take it off. And bring some rags or mats, these puddles will make us slip."
As they came closer and started working with small chisels and hammers, she turned to Coulson.
"Who is he?"
"That's irrelevant, Lieutenant. What's his status?"
The trace of concern his voice didn't go unnoticed by Grace.
"Where did you find him?"
"Also irrelevant."
The lack of information wasn't helping and it snapped Grace away from her focus.
"You know, agent, feel free to call your inactive doctor to finish this. I can't work if you don't tell me what I need to know."
He looked around. She was really his only choice.
"All right. These men here were there when he was found. They will tell you what you need to know."
Coulson stepped back and lowered his head. That single gesture touched Grace enough to make her go after him.
"What do you want me to do?", she asked, looking up at him.
"Just... just tell me what you find."
"Tell me everything", she demanded, coming back to the gurney, to the man who was laying on it. While the men proceeded to tell her the conditions in which he was found and finished removing the ice from his body, Grace tried to asses him the best way she could, touching his arms, legs, feet. He was completely frozen, but oddly enough, no one seemed to believe he was dead – not even her, and she had just arrived. But first things first. She pulled out a stethoscope from her bag and attempted to listen to his heart, but his outfit was so thick she would never reach a heartbeat, if there was any. In fact, it seemed like the fabric couldn't even be cut with the regular scissors she had.
"Come, help me out here. Do you see any buttons or straps, anything?"
A couple of men came to help her turn him on his side, and they managed to find a way to unstrap his uniform and undress his torso. Given her state of focus, at that moment she couldn't fully take in the perfection of his features; she could only realize that there was no apparent flaw, and that was enough for her to be amazed. His skin was livid, but not burned; nothing was broken or bruised at any level. Grace had never seen anyone freezing up to death before, but she was sure that they didn't look like that. She put the stethoscope on his chest, and couldn't hear anything. Coulson observed her from a distance.
"Can you please be quiet? I'm trying to listen here."
The chatter died and a grave silence followed. Grace closed her eyes and focused on the faint sound coming through the equipment to her ears. She stood up and Coulson was now standing in front of her – he was smiling.
"He's... he's alive. How long was he buried in ice?"
"Around 70 years."
"70? How? Why? I-" Grace blinked, stuttered, shivered, froze on her feet.
"I take it as there are no injuries."
"No, I mean... nothing I could see. I can't tell you if there's something internal, like a rupture or a bleeding, though."
"I doubt it."
The certainty of that man's wellbeing was astounding. Grace couldn't understand it, let alone argue about it.
"All right, everybody, we need to prep him for transport. We leave in 30."
"We?"
* featured song: "Dare You To Move", Switchfoot