Chris was having a thought.

When Chris was really young, and got moved into Martin's room, their father built them a bunk bed. For the first couple of years, Martin had the top bunk, but as soon as Chris was strong enough to competently and consistently climb the ladder, Martin relinquished it to his younger brother. Why he would do that, when the top bunk is usually first choice for kids, and the oldest sibling always has the say in where he gets to sleep, well, there never was one single reason. Part of it was because Martin liked the idea of turning where he slept into a cozy little burrow, like a permanent pillow fort, and he could do that more successfully with the lower bunk. Another was that already Martin was a messy kid, and the top bunk was a nice refuge for Chris, who didn't like always tripping over Martin's things. Most of all, Chris just wanted the top bunk, and Martin recognized the unfairness in the principle of eldest-gets-first-choice, and decided to offer up the bunk to someone who otherwise wouldn't have a say in the matter. There were a few other factors that all came together, and both boys were very happy for it, even though Martin told Chris at that time the reason they were switching places was because Martin was worried that the bunk bed would break and didn't want to be on the top when it did. This was a joke, of course, and certainly would never happen, but it didn't stop the nights the very young Chris spent lying wide awake, horrified that his resting place could collapse at any moment, and a subsequent apology from Martin, forced out of him by his mother, for giving Chris the first real emotional crisis in his life.

So Chris was having a thought.

He was remembering lying in that top bunk sometime halfway through his fifth-grade year. The room was cold, but Chris was cozy, under a mountain of blankets, cuddling very closly to the plush sifaka lemur he slept with every night. Had he not been so buried by warm comforts, the early-winter, early-morning temperature would have surely woken him up; instead, what aroused him from his sleep was a series of familiar creaks coming up the bunk bed ladder, and the whispers that followed.

"Chris! Psssst... Chris!"

Chris rolled over, and saw a pair of wide, excited blue eyes peaking over the side of the bed. He groaned, and turned back away.

"Chris! Wake up!"

"'S too early, go back to bed."

"No, come on, you gotta see this!"

Silence.

"Chris, it's snowed!"

More silence.

"It's not, like, the light snow that normally happens this time, either! A blizzard came through or something, I think it's enough to cancel school!"

This stirred Chris. He sat up, his blankets falling around him like the big sheets of snow sliding off the neighborhood's roofs.

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, it's halfway up our window!"

"Ah, man! The science fair was today! I worked so hard on my elephant presentation!"

"Oh, I forgot that was today!"

"You forgot about the science fair?"

"Hey, it's not my science fair," he said defensively. "All I had to look forward to today was a reading quiz on Old Man and the Sea. For me, this is a win."

Chris sighed.

"Hey," Martin continued, "cheer up, buddy! I'm sure they'll just reschedule it, and you'll get to show everyone how awesome elephants are! For now, we have a snow day! We can kick back, build a snowman, or snow elephant even, if you want, or snow whatever! Or we can watch cartoons, drink cocoa, maybe chuck a few snowballs at Zach, 'cuz he makes his projects about enslaving animals, like, every year."

Chris, with a huff, collapsed back onto the bed.

Martin sighed. "Or, sleep in. We can do that too."

"Martin, throwing snowballs at Zach isn't gonna change his mind, it's just gonna make him mad. He'll cry, and tell his parents, and we're gonna get in trouble."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah! And mom and dad won't be on our side like they normally are, because we'll've thrown snowballs at him."

"I don't know, I couldn't see mom and dad ever being on their side." He looked left and right, then leaned in, as if someone else were in the room and might hear. "I once heard mom calling Zach's mom a bitch."

Chris shot up and hit Martin over the head with a pillow. "Martin!" He cried. "That's a bad word."

"Eh, if mom said it, it can't be that bad," he said. He knew all and well it was a profanity, but again, mom said it, so why couldn't he?

"Nuh-uh! Tommy Perkins said it once in class, and he got sent to the principal's office. Ms. Herring was so mad!"

"Okay, okay, it's a bad word!" he said, playfully trying to appease his brother. "I was wrong, do you forgive me?" he asked with a big, impish, jovial grin.

"Hmmmm... maybe, if you make waffles!"

"What?" Martin exclaimed, his smirk fading quickly.

"Waffles! Waffles! Waffles!" Chris began to chant.

"Ugh, fine." Martin began to descend the ladder. He looked back up. "Well? Are you coming?"

"Nah," said Chris, lying back down. "You can make the waffles, I'm gonna sleep in."

Martin chuckled and rolled his eyes.

School ended up not being cancelled that day. Martin still made the waffles anyway, as a "luck for your science fair project, lil' bro, and for my quiz, because we'll both need it." The science fair did still happen, as did the reading quiz; Martin got a B, Chris got 3rd place, and Zach, to no one's surprise, made his project about the WWII operation that forcibly used pigeons to guide missiles, and how it was an awesome idea, and he got 1st place for his "advanced use of scientific processes and reference to historical events" and because his mom was on the school board.

What happened was, while that was a lot of snow for that time of year, it wasn't as much as they could get later in the winter, so the school decided to press on, despite the slower traffic, and complaints from a particular 1st-place-winning student that his "jealous" classmate pegged him with a snowball after the fair.

Chris did get in trouble for that, as he predicted. He got a month of detention, and nearly a lifetime of conflict with Zach. Granted, the two were already headed down that path regardless of the incident, and they really already hated each other, but when thinking about the two's history, where it all went so south, that was generally one of the first things that came to Chris' mind. A snowball seems like such a little thing, but to a child? That snowball falls down the mountain side, picking up more snow as it tumbles, growing and growing in size and ferocity, flattening everything in its path, shaking, lurching, as its own monstrosity intensifies, as the spinning becomes sickening and out of control until it crashes horribly and shatters into the rigid valley, its icy entrails smothering, gripping the earth below it in its shameful calamity.

Chris was starting to wonder why he was having a thought. Why this particular thought was running through his mind, planting a panic in his chest that did not let go, but pulsated and pounded so terribly. He began to try and find out what had triggered the start of it, what sensations brought it up.

Was it...the feeling of lying down, like when he was in his bunk bed? No, he wasn't lying in the position he normally would have.

Was it... the fact that they were tracking Zach? He had showed up in Antarctica, and they were on their way to figure out why, and... no, that wasn't it either. Chris didn't know where he was right now.

Was it... the actual pain he was afflicted by? The strange dizziness, the difficult breaths? Maybe, that was getting somewhere; but there's no real reason that would cause him to consider that specific memory.

He decided that to get to the bottom of things, he had to go back to the original source, and see what it had in common with how he felt now. He remembered being slightly cold, and he was very cold now. He remembered being drowsy, and now, well, that was an understatement. But there was that one thing, that one thing that stood out.

The whispers.

Chris.

Chris!

Chris, wake up!

Come on, you gotta get up!

Chris opened his eyes, and really, he was hit with more questions than answers. Nothing he saw looked right. He was lying on his back, but he felt a little folded too, like he was sitting in a lawn chair or airplane seat that didn't go down all the way. He shifted his weight ever so slightly, and he felt some grinding along his spine. He was on top of shards of glass. He was looking upwards, he could feel that, but he was staring at the floor of the Tortuga. In fact, it was going up and away from him, which was wrong, wrong, wrong, just like everything else. He just caught out of the corner of his eye some maroon blur disappear towards the cockpit. Aviva was clinging to one of the seats, but her back was away from him, and she was hunched over and convulsing. It looked like she might be throwing up. That made Chris more aware of the taste in his own mouth, and the feeling on his shirt, and he realized he had, too.

Where was Koki? He couldn't see Koki. Where was Jimmy? Jimmy was missing too. And where was Martin?

"Chris! Oh, thank God."

There was Martin.

He was awkwardly kneeling to the left of Chris, one leg bent onto what should be the floor, the other on what should be the wall. One hand was firmly grasping Chris' wrist, the other was trying to lift up his head. Chris coughed, then winced, as that pain surged through his chest again. He must have worn it pretty clearly on his face, because Martin winced, too.

"Martin, what happened?" Chris gargled.

"We crashed." Martin said. That probably should have been obvious, but hearing Martin say it put the pieces together. He was starting to remember, it had been smooth sailing towards Antarctica, even with it being the first time they had flown there. They had just come up over the shore when the Tortuga came to a sudden and otherwise impossible halt, there was a horrible, unbearably loud metallic screeching and grinding sound, and the rear of the ship began rising upwards then -

There was a loud bang, accompanied by a tremendous shuddering, and suddenly the ship was spinning violently out of control.

And Chris had not fastened himself into a seat in time.

"Things make sense now." Chris decided, finally.

"I thought you were dead, for real." Martin said in a frightened hush. "Are you... are you okay?"

"Me? Yeah, sure."

You know, aside from the headache and the fact that breathing hurts. Chris wanted to add, but Martin looked stressed, so Chris kept it to himself. It wasn't like Martin couldn't tell, however. The worry on his face intensified.

Suddenly, there was a scream from the cockpit. It was Koki. Martin spun his head in its direction, but did not move from Chris' side, no matter how desperately conflicted he was on doing so.

"Go help Koki." Chris said. Martin turned back to him.

"But, I can't-"

"Go, go, I'll be okay; I just need a minute."

Martin hesitated, then nodded. He got up a little unsteadily and sprinted in the direction of the cries for help - at least, as close as he could get to sprinting trying to climb uphill on that smooth floor. Either whatever they had to do didn't take long, or Chris blacked out again, because the next thing he knew, Koki and Martin were emerging, dragging with them a limp Jimmy, who had trails of blood streaming down his face. Aviva, who had gathered herself, gasped in horror at the sight, but Martin quickly cried out, "he's okay, he's just unconscious!" And her look went from terrified to determined, as she carefully edged herself towards them to help them find a place to put him down. "He hit his head, he doesn't seem to have other super serious injuries, but we can't tell for sure." Martin continued. They finally settled on the farthest side of the central console, which had formed into a nice cradle in the ship's new orientation.

As soon as Jimmy was laid down, Martin turned and bolted back towards his brother - a bit too hurriedly, though, as he started to slip, and just managed to snatch one of the chairs before he catapulted himself into a full somersaulting fall. He then carefully though with no less urgency continued down to Chris, who was now pretty awake and aware of things, but still seemed unable to get himself up out of the corner he was in. Martin was going to pick Chris up and carry him to the rest of the crew so he could be more comfortably and less dangerously positioned, but that proved to be a difficult task to begin, with each angle of approach that Martin started then had to stop and reevaluate. There was broken glass everywhere, and Martin for very good reason did not want to slice his arms open. On top of that, there wasn't a great stable place for Martin to stand, not to mention he had to worry about that unidentified injury Chris had, which Martin was at this point very much aware of, thanks in part to the labored breaths his brother was making. Miraculously, Martin finally managed to get a complete hold of his brother, with only one shard of glass getting stuck in his arm, and only one small shriek of pain out of Chris.

Martin made the arduous climb up to everyone else, and set Chris down on the edge of the console, where he could sit, leaning over onto its top, which was now of course angled down and away from him.

Now Chris was at a good vantage point to see the rest of the ship, and it was a mess. Power was out. All the monitors had been ripped from their homes, broken and settled at the bottom, contributing to the bed of glass that once bore him. The biggest source of that glass was the sunroof, which was practically pulverized, now letting in the biting icy air of Antarctica.

The processing he was able to do of his surroundings was short-lived, however. The sudden stress and pain of being picked up, carried, then set down again brought a second wave of delirium over Chris, to the point that when the other three started talking to each other, he couldn't understand what they were saying. Aviva said something, Martin nodded. Martin said something, Koki said something, Martin said something else, and then Aviva, and then...

Martin grabbed Chris by the shoulders right before he was about to faint and fall off his little perch. Another subsequent pain snapped Chris back awake, and he watched over his brother's shoulder as Aviva ran off towards the cockpit. Koki was missing again, but all Chris would have had to do to find her was turn his head in the other direction, towards where she was prying open the doors leading to the hangar.

"Okay, Chris, we have got to figure out what's wrong with you."

Chris nodded weakly, no longer wanting to put himself or possibly his friends in danger over some sort of durability pride.

Chris grimaced as Martin lifted up his two shirts, as even just the friction of the fabric set off some amount of agony. Fortunately, Martin had picked up cues from Chris throughout the whole event that gave him a rough estimate as to where the injury was, so he didn't have to go blindly poking around.

"Doesn't look like anything's punctured you, so that's good." Martin said. "There's a lot of bruising, though."

"Yuh-huh." Said Chris, who was also staring intently at those big purple spots halfway down his torso, trying to figure out what the source of the pain could be based on how it felt. This attempted line of thought was decimated, however, when Martin actually touched the thing, sending up another shockwave of excruciating pain. Martin hadn't even touched it that hard. Whatever it was, it was bad.

"Ack! Sorry, Chris." Martin said, who had quickly withdrawn his hand in surprise.

"S' okay, I didn't mean to scare ya," said Chris, who was beginning to be groggy again, but when his head flopped backwards he snapped it right back up, retaining consciousness for now.

Martin made sure Chris was alright again, then gave a second go at it. For Martin's sake, Chris held back the urge to just wail and managed to bring his visceral reaction down to a breathy hiss.

"Feels like it's broken."

"What's broken?" asked Chris.

"Your ribs, bro!" he said as he gingerly lowered Chris' shirt.

"Oh, right, duh. What else is there?"

Martin let out a small chuckle, but his smile faded fast. It was really bad.

"Martin, do you think... Zach did this?"

"What?"

"He's why we came here, right?"

"I mean, yeah, but this isn't... something I'd think he was capable of!"

Chris thought in silence for a bit, then remembered something. Something he saw when the ship was plummeting. Something he couldn't make sense of.

At one point during the fall, Chris, in the midst of being tossed about, when the sunroof was pointed at the ground, saw through it: far down below them, it looked like there were two people standing on the ice. Obviously the moment was a quick one, so Chris didn't see what exactly they looked like, and part of Chris wondered if he even saw what he thought he saw at all, or if he already had double vision from the dizzying descent.

He was about to say something about it, when Aviva emerged.

"The Tortuga's front door is wedged shut by all the snow. The entire cockpit is practically buried." She took a pause to catch her breath. "If I were to guess, given the angle we're in, the hangar door is sealed shut too."

"That's affirmative!" Said Koki, approaching from behind. "How's Chris?" she asked.

"Broken ribs, I - don't think it's too bad." Martin fibbed. "How's the hangar?"

"All looks pretty trashed. Vehicles went every which way." Koki said. "So, even if we could find some exit..." she trailed off.

"Okay, well we have to do something," said Martin, "what about through the sunroof? That's open."

"I... don't know if that's a good idea." Said Koki, who had gone to sit next to the still-unconscious Jimmy. "We could certainly get up to it, but the drop to the ground could be enormous, and to get around to the side where you could just take the slope down, you'd have to be as good a climber as-" she looked down at Chris. "Not to mention the sharp glass edges that you'd have to deal with now."

"Then..." said Martin, "that means..."

The crew sat in silence.

So Chris was having a thought.

They had crashed in Antarctica. The ship had taken on extensive damage, they were probably hundreds of miles from the nearest human settlement, he had broken ribs and Jimmy was knocked out. Due to the strange nature of the accident, it was likely not an accident at all, but caused by a villain, maybe multiple villains, who were still out there somewhere - and, as an aside for you who have the advantage of foresight, Chris was not yet in the habit of collecting DNA samples, so the power suits were quite useless. Not to mention, with no power, they had no way to call for help, no way to activate lockdown mode, no way to keep themselves warm - with the sunroof smashed, the deathly cold air was funneling in.

And they were all trapped.