Polar Deception

1

April 2050

New  González Videla Research Station

Waterboat Point, Antarctic Peninsula 

A shiver ran down Carlos Perez’s spine as he kneeled on the cold floor of the Chilean research station’s living quarters, mesmerized by the crimson glow of the blood-red crystals in his hand. Dr. Omar Hasson hovered nearby, while Jeff, Carlos’s loyal lackey, slouched against the outer door, its metal surface scuffed from years of use.

The howling wind rattled the windows, each gust forcing a shower of icy snow against them—a constant reminder of their exposed location near an ice shelf, partway up Mount Frödin. The space was well lit, with a cozy living area in one corner furnished with comfortable chairs, a television, and bookshelves lined with scientific journals and videotapes. In the opposite corner sat a well-worn ping-pong table. The crew’s sleeping quarters lay down a hallway, tucked away from the main hub. The air carried a lingering aroma of coffee and tobacco.

Omar tapped him on the shoulder. “Hurry. They’ll be back any minute.”

“We’re fine,” Carlos shot back. An early return of the three other team members was the least of their problems. “Just look at these beauties.” He held the golf-ball-sized crystals up to Omar.

“Please, Carlos. We need to hide them with the others.”

Carlos clenched his jaw as he examined one crystal closely. “This one looks different.” He handed it to Omar, who quickly passed it back. “Well?”

“It just has more impurities.”

He stood and regarded Omar, eyes narrowing. “You’d better be damn sure these are all Tibbs Crystals.”

Omar’s mentor, Dr. Tibbs, had discovered the crystals when deployed at this station a few years back. Analysis had shown they possessed extraordinary magnetic properties, far exceeding those of rare earth minerals—materials that had once enabled modern technologies.

Omar glanced out the window, then let out a deep breath. “We’ve been over this. Raw materials like these can vary in appearance.”

“Mind your tone, Dr. Hasson.”

“I’m sorry. I meant no disrespect. Yes, I only collected Tibbs Crystals. Once purified, they’ll look identical to the ones you saw in my lab. Now can we please—”

“Good. Good.” Carlos returned the crystals to their cloth bag and handed it to Omar. “Put this with the others.”

Omar added the bag to a plastic bin beneath the floor and slid the loose floorboards into place.  

Carlos had agreed to keep Omar’s research confidential, but not for the standard academic reason—safeguarding innovative research. No. Carlos’s legacy depended on keeping the crystals a secret until he and his buyer were ready to introduce them to the world.

Jeff approached Carlos. “When do we cash in on these rocks, boss?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Omar asked, looking back and forth between the two men.

Carlos glared at Jeff. “I never said that. I said these crystals will change the world.”

Confusion flickered in Omar’s dark eyes. “That’s even worse. These are research samples. They won’t change the world. Besides, even if you find the mother lode, you’d need explosive mining to recover it.”

Mining was prohibited in Antarctica. And ever since Thwaites Glacier had collapsed—a disaster now referred to as the Great Melt—the remaining glaciers had become increasingly unstable.

“So?” Carlos hadn’t planned to reveal his intentions until dinner, but Jeff’s question had left him with no choice. “Thwaites collapsed four years ago. We’ve all adjusted to a couple of feet of sea-level rise. No, it’s the electronics everyone misses. The Tibbs Crystals will fix that and—”

“In theory, yes,” Omar interrupted, “but—”

“But nothing. Hear me out.” He placed his hands on Omar’s shoulders, eyes wide with excitement. “Reviving electronics is only the beginning. These crystals will allow renewables to operate again, more efficiently than ever before.”

In 2029, an ongoing trade dispute between China and the United States had escalated into a full-blown military conflict. The US, backed by NATO allies and an unlikely partnership with Russia, had faced off against China. In retaliation, China—the world’s primary supplier of rare earth minerals—had halted all trade and closed its borders. Alternate sources of these minerals were soon exhausted. Without a reliable supply anywhere in the world, a global economic upheaval followed, eventually leading to the demise of modern electronics and renewable technologies when recycling of the permanent magnets they contained became mandatory.

“You can’t be serious,” Omar said, his voice tight with disapproval.

Carlos’s breathing quickened. “Just remember, it’s all for the greater good.”

“All for the what?” Omar approached him and lowered his voice. “Listen. I get it. You want to see electric cars and wind turbines running again. Who doesn’t? But this isn’t the way and you know that.”

Once a leading climate scientist specializing in renewable technologies, Carlos had been considered indispensable. But his arrogance and condescending manner had alienated everyone around him, and few cared when his expertise had no longer been needed. To regain relevance, Carlos had leveraged his mother’s wealthy family connections across the globe. While his father and brothers chose honest work in the coal mines, his mother’s side thrived on backroom dealings with corrupt officials who manipulated scientific discourse—bribing researchers and suppressing discoveries when needed.

He hadn’t achieved any significant results from his networking when tragedy had struck, plunging him into a drug- and alcohol-fueled depression. But when the Tibbs Crystals had practically fallen into his lap, Carlos realized he could negotiate terms for their use from a position of strength. Doing so would not only restore his relevance but ensure he would be hailed as a visionary.

“What other way is there?” he asked.

Omar paced. “You know, sometimes I wish I’d never agreed to help you.”

“Help me? You’re helping me?” Carlos’s speech quickened. “Give me a break. You’d still be in your lab with no funding if I hadn’t come along.”

“Yeah, I probably would.” Omar’s words came out stiffly, as if he hated admitting that. “Even so, you know what the experts say will happen if we mine here, especially after our first Great Melt.”

Carlos shrugged.

“Antarctica’s destruction will cause catastrophic sea-level rise, the number of deaths and climate migrants will be off the—”

Carlos waved him away, then pointed repeatedly at his chest. “I . . . I am the only expert who matters, and I say we can bring back the modern era—and then some—with these crystals.”

Omar stopped pacing and turned to face him. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about your plans. Besides, what good are they if you destroy the planet?”

“Destroy the planet? Don’t be ridiculous. So Antarctica is changed and a few people have to move—a temporary upheaval, at most.”

“A temporary . . .” Omar clasped his hands. “Please, Carlos. Even Dr. Tibbs didn’t consider the crystals a commercially viable resource.”

Carlos approached him, finger poised, heat rising in his cheeks. “Your Dr. Tibbs, God rest his soul, suffered a failure of imagination, an affliction you apparently suffer from as well.”

Omar rubbed his temples as if trying to massage away his growing agitation and disbelief.

Carlos pointed to the table. “Here, help me with this.”

They carried it into place over the stored crystals.

“Of course Antarctica will be mined, Dr. Hasson. Why else would we be here?”

Omar’s eyes widened. “Oh. My. God. This is why you didn’t want me to publish my work or patent my process for at least a decade, isn’t it?”

Jesus. He’s just figuring this out? “You know, for such a smart guy, you sure are naive.”

Jeff shoved a chair into place. “Guys, I didn’t mean to start a fight. I don’t even understand what you’re arguing about.”

Carlos spun on his heel. “I’ll make it simple for you.  We’ll alter the course of humanity when we extract the vast resources hidden beneath the ice. So what if the glaciers are unstable? That just means more resources will be exposed sooner. Sound like a problem to you?”

“Nope. But I better get a fair share of everything,” Jeff said.

“You’ll get what you’re entitled to,” Carlos replied, “and not a penny more.”

“Whatever. I just wanna stream movies on a tablet again.”

“Missing your porn sites, eh? No worries. You’ll get all your wireless toys back soon enough. For now, you’ll have to just keep living like it’s 1985 and watch your X-rated shows on a VCR.” He gave a throaty laugh. Jeff wasn’t the brightest, but at twenty years of age, he was one hell of a mechanic and cook.

Jeff scowled. “The internet went offline when I was ten, Carlos. You think I was watching porn then?”

Carlos motioned toward the kitchen. “Go. Check on dinner. And make sure the potatoes aren’t overcooked this time.”

“They weren’t over—” Jeff let out a sharp breath and walked away. “Anything you say . . . boss.”

Carlos dry-swallowed a couple of Adderall, then turned back to Omar, who was now seated at the table, face buried in his hands. Given this naive geologist’s overreaction to his vision, it was clear the man could become a liability. He would have to find Omar’s weakness—and exploit it, if necessary. Right now, the researcher was about to be dealt another blow.

“One more thing, Doc.” Carlos sat across from him. “With the plane’s weight limit, we can only bring back one bag of crystals.”

Omar’s mouth fell open as he looked up. “One bag? But I collected dozens of—”

“We’ll retrieve them in good time, my friend. My buy . . . I mean, my government will understand.”

“Were you going to say ‘buyer’? What buyer?” Omar stood, squaring his shoulders in a rare display of self-confidence. “Carlos, what the hell is going on?”

Carlos cursed under his breath at his slip-up. He had told Omar the funding for his research on the purification process was secure. He rose to meet Omar’s gaze. “I meant your grant. Just focus on the science. I’ll handle the rest.”

Omar’s shoulders slumped. “Fine. But the station is closing. How will we retrieve our samples?”

Carlos slammed his chair down in frustration. “Will you stop? I know what I’m doing.”

Omar shook his head and walked away.

Carlos glanced out the windows and saw three figures approaching. Showtime.

 Laughter filled the room, blending with the lively clatter of silverware against dishes, creating a warm contrast to the icy environment outside. The six men passed around generous portions of swordfish, boiled potatoes, and mixed vegetables.

Carlos busied himself packing his pipe, trying to maintain a facade of calm. The three recent arrivals, rosy-cheeked from their afternoon outing, talked over one another as they regaled Jeff and Omar with the story of their close encounter with a group of aggressive leopard seals while packing their equipment.

He poured himself a glass of whiskey, quickly downed it, and poured another. After everyone had loaded their plates, Carlos stood, pipe in one hand and drink in the other. He raised his glass. “To my crew: You have persevered in these harsh conditions, although it’s not as cold as it once was. Am I right?”

A general murmur of agreement and clinking of glasses filled the room.

“We’re adding to humanity’s knowledge with our ice cores. We’re doing important work, but we should be doing more. So much more.”

The rosy-cheeked men exchanged puzzled glances. Dr. Edward Miller, an American paleoclimatologist, spoke up. He was a quiet man by nature, with deep-set pale-blue eyes that reflected concern. “I don’t understand, Dr. Perez.”

“We need to find more resources,” Carlos explained. “And as more Great Melts occur, it’s only a matter of time before enough mountain surface is exposed in Antarctica.”

“You want to mine here? For what? Coal?” Edward asked.

Carlos inhaled sharply, his voice low and intense. “How dare you!”

Jeff interjected, “Dude, his family died in that coal mining accident.”

Edward leaned forward. “That’s right. I’m sorry. Of course you—”

“Enough!” Spittle flew as Carlos’s frustration erupted. He lit his pipe, took a puff, and exhaled a cloud of smoke. Then, with a mercurial shift in mood, he said, “Mister Miller, my proposal does not pertain to coal mining, but to strategically harvesting resources that can restore the lost technologies. If achieving this goal means mining in Antarctica, so be it.”

No one responded.

Carlos studied the men, a steady heat building inside him. Their silence registered as disloyalty. “I see the doubt in your eyes, but what choice do we have?”

Edward met Carlos’s stare. “I thought the Antarctic Treaty prohibited mining.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned toward Omar. “Is this what you’ve been working on in such secrecy? You want to mine rare earths here?”

“No, I—” Omar began.

Carlos had had enough. “Shut up, all of you, and eat.”

The tense crew obeyed immediately.

Carlos sank into his chair, placed his pipe on the table, and took another swig of whiskey. Hunched over his plate, he stabbed at his food, pushing it around. How did these scientists not understand the need to mine here, especially after he had explained? Their insubordination stung, but it didn’t matter. The world would soon be praising him for initiating the digital renaissance.

He looked at his men.

Is this truly the only way to do it?

A flicker of doubt about the task at hand broke through his resolve. But as the chemicals coursed through his body, the last sliver of uncertainty washed away.

Praying that his dear Maria, God rest her soul, would forgive him, he set his knife and fork down one at a time, his food barely touched. After wiping his mouth, he folded his napkin with precision and placed it on his plate.

Then, in one swift motion, he drew a concealed pistol from his jacket and aimed. Three shots rang out, leaving the survivors frozen in stunned silence.