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As he got on the C-141 at five in the morning, one of the old-timers told him that it was best to just try and sleep on the way down to McMurdo. Fortunately, Radek had jet lag from hell - he was still on Prague time and according to his body it was the early evening. So despite the noise, the crowding, the uncomfortable canvas benches, and the smell from the piss-bucket, he slept. For five blissful hours, he dreamed of little gray men with large black eyes who abducted humans who had glowing yellow eyes.
All in all, he would rather be in Siberia.
When he got off the plane, the world was white - the ground, the sky, and everything in between. He'd never known there were so many shades of white. The only non-white things were the orange and white bus that was waiting for them on the ice runway, and the patch of brown at the end of the runway, which he assumed was McMurdo Station. As he climbed down the access stairs, he noticed two small black spots off to one side and stopped to stare at them. The man coming down the stairs behind him muttered "Effin' beaker," and waited less than patiently while Radek stared at his first penguins.
Climbing on the bus, he looked at the faces of the people who had flown down here with him. He knew none of them, having been introduced to only a few of them for the first time this morning at the processing center before they boarded. He sat down in the first empty seat he came to, next to a pleasant looking young woman with glasses. "Sue Rubidoux. Meteorologist." She held out a mittened hand.
"Radek Zelenka, USAF contractor." He'd been briefed not to tell anyone what he was there for, just to say that he was an Air Force contractor. It amused the hell out of him. Anyone who cared to google his name would be able to find out all manner of information about him, including his degrees, what his last dozen published papers were about, and the fact that he was descended from a 17th Century Baroque composer.
"Oh, one of those. Ah well, no worries. We all know not to talk about the secret base that doesn't exist." She reached into a pocket of her bright red parka and offered Radek a stick of gum.
"No, thank you." He looked over her shoulder and realized he could see the same two penguins that he'd spotted from the stairs. They looked remarkably unconcerned about the activities of the humans near them. He gestured towards them. "They are not afraid of the people or the planes?"
"Who? Cisco and Pancho?" She grinned. "Naw, the only thing they're afraid of is a lady penguin. It's wuv, twue wuv…"
"Ehhh, give it a rest, Rube. You don't even know if they're both males - it's not like we can check." The grumpy man who had followed Radek down the stairs from the plane growled at her. "Personally, I think they're spying for the Chinese." A current of giggles, quiet laughs, and snorts rose from the other passengers as the bus headed down the runway towards town.
Radek's head swam with orientation information. "Don't bother the penguins - doing anything that might be construed as harassment will get you fired and deported." Rules about traffic, about the weather warning system, about what areas were off limits. After 30 minutes of what he thought might be endless warnings about life in Antarctica, someone wearing an Air Force patch on his parka led him to a cavernous building and helped him sort out his luggage. Piling it and him into a truck with very big tires, the smiling airman drove him over to a dingy looking building that might have seen one too many winters in this destructive climate.
"Here you are, sir - you're in room 24, with another contractor." He handed him a key. "Go on in - I'll grab the rest of your things."
"Thank you, Airman." Radek turned and went into the building, struck again by how shabby it was and hoping that conditions would be better at the work site. He went down the hallway and found a door with "24" on it. He fumbled with the key and his laptop case, hitting the door with the case and dropping the key on the floor. "Bože…"
As he bent over to retrieve the key, the door opened in front of him. "Hello. Need some help with that?" A voice far too warm for Antarctica flowed over him like honey as he grabbed the key and stood up, looking into amused blue eyes that made him want to fall in and drown in them. The curling smile below the eyes, set in a face that hadn't been anywhere near a razor for at least thirty-six hours, showed him humor and warmth and made him want to drop his bags and howl. The voice, the eyes, the mouth, and the face… they were perfect.
Radek Zelenka believed in love at first sight, and it was staring him in the face.
Suddenly he realized he was staring back, and dragged his eyes down to some spot in the middle of the man's chest. "Thank you, but no - the airman," Radek gestured to the end of the hallway, "is helping me. I am Radek Zelenka - Doctor Radek Zelenka. I believe that we are roommates." Radek shifted his laptop case over and offered his hand. The man in the doorway held his own out and they shook hands. For Radek, the touch was like sticking his finger in a wall socket - he felt goose bumps break out on his arms and legs, and a shiver run down his spine.
"Doctor Carson Beckett, at your service. They told me I'd be getting a roommate today, though I must say it's going to be close quarters. Probably doesn't matter much, since we're going out to the station in a few days. Here, let me help with those." Carson came out into the hall and grabbed the two orange gear bags, then dragged them into the small room and shoved them under the empty bed. Radek followed him into the room and dumped his laptop and suitcase on top of it.
A quick look around showed a desk at the foot of each bed and a small locker next to each desk. A small window set high in the wall completed the inventory of amenities. The paint on the walls was old and chipped, and he was certain he'd had more room in his old army barracks. There was barely enough room to walk between the beds, and he sighed inwardly. The lack of space was not going to help him cope with the instant attraction he felt for his bunkmate.
From the hallway, the airman said "Here's your crate, Doc. I'll leave you to get settled in. Check in with Master Sergeant Hebert at the end of the hall as soon as you can - he'll have your assignments for Happy Camper School and transport out to the site. Welcome to the Bottom of the World, Doc. You're gonna love it here, I can tell." With a grin, the airman disappeared from the doorway, heading back to his car.
"Happy Camper School? What is that?" Radek looked at Carson.
"Happy Camper School is a two day survival course that anyone who has to fly on a helicopter has to pass before they can go up in one. I've been told it involves, amongst other subjects, how to build a snow fort and how not to get lost in a whiteout. Since the only way to get to the station is by helo, we all have to take it." Carson grabbed a parka from a hook beside the bed. "I'll bet you haven't eaten since Christchurch, right? It's about that time - let's go over to the galley and grab a bit of lunch. With a flight in today, they'll have fresh fruit for desert - maybe even pineapple. Come on, I'll show you where it is."
"But I must check in with the Master Sergeant…" The sudden rumble from his stomach was audible even to Carson, who grinned and cut off Radek's protests.
"Well, let's go, then. We'll stop by the Master Sergeant's office on the way out. I'm fairly certain we're going to be in the same class, though. We've been waiting for all of the SGC people to get here so we could all be in the same class, and you're the last one. We start tomorrow morning." Carson donned his parka and brushed past Radek on the way to the door.
Radek closed his eyes for just a moment at the unexpected contact. Hovno, this was not going to be easy. But as long as they weren't going to be in the same room for more than overnight, he could deal.
"The Master Sergeant said something about us being tent-mates for the training tomorrow. Have you ever put up a tent before?" Radek opened his eyes and looked at the man standing in the doorway, grinning at him and inviting him to share the joke.
Kurva drat. Perhaps if he went out and molested a penguin…