Chapter Text
Captain Jayce Talis had not expected to see anyone else out here. These were uncharted waters, “off the edge of the map,” as the men so aptly put it, where even the boldest sailors had never gone before and where one wrong move could lead to disaster and death. In the months since they first put to sea, he had already detailed several incidents in the ship’s log. Nothing bad enough to shake his resolve—a stiff gale, a broken mast. Nothing particularly life-threatening. Nothing he couldn’t gloss over in his letters home.
He wrote to his mother and cousin whenever he had a spare moment (which, god knows, was none too often), reassuring them that he was still alive for the time being, describing his experiences, promising to keep a level head on his shoulders and not do anything reckless in the pursuit of unparalleled scientific discovery.
They were worried for him. They had not wanted him to embark on this voyage. They knew how much it meant to him—he’d ranted and raved and labored and obsessed far too intensely and for far too many years to leave any doubt about that—and yet they had done everything in their power to talk him out of it.
“Nothing is worth losing you, my son,” his mother, Ximena, had said. “Ever since your father passed, you’re all I have left in this world. Do not ask me to endure your loss as well.”
Her gaze had been steady and calm, a mask to conceal her fear and sorrow. But Jayce had known his mother too well to be fooled. He had put his arms around her in a soothing embrace.
“You won’t lose me,” he had reassured her. “I’ll come home. I promise.”
“You know it’s cold up there,” his cousin, Caitlyn, had said. “You might freeze to death or at least lose a few fingers, and maybe your nose and ears too, like it says in this account.” She had shoved a book in his face, open to a rather graphic chapter about frostbite and hypothermia. “See? There’s even an illustration.”
“Nice try.” He had shoved the book away without even looking at it. Her words alone, expertly chosen to trigger his worst fears, were already making him feel sick. “But you can’t scare me. I’m going and that’s final.”
“Perhaps you’ll lose your arms and legs.” Caitlyn had flipped through the book with a thoughtful expression. “Then, even if you do manage to find the pole and live to tell the tale, you’ll spend the rest of your life in bed, about as useful as a chocolate teapot.”
“Miss Kiramman,” Ximena had said, her eyes going wide. “Please, do not say such things. My god!” She had broken free of her son’s embrace and crossed over to the window, turning her back to them, hiding her face from view.
“Why not?” Caitlyn had been merciless. “He needs to know the risk, doesn’t he?”
“It won’t be cold,” Jayce had said with a please stop upsetting my mother look at his cousin. “The sun always shines in the North Pole. It’s beautiful, a paradise.” He was certain of it. Warm weather, blue skies, calm seas…that was what he expected to find at the end of his voyage.
Caitlyn had not seemed to share his expectations. She had closed the book with a snap. “How do you know? No one’s ever been there.”
“I’ll be the first. Then you can brag to all your friends that your cousin is Captain Jayce Talis, brilliant scientist, fearless explorer, discoverer of the North Pole.” He had smiled at her but she had not smiled back. Ximena had not looked particularly comforted, either, despite her son’s best efforts.
Honestly, would it kill them to have a little faith? He’d been preparing his entire life for this moment. He’d read countless books, he’d been on countless voyages, he’d spent every minute of every day, since he was a child, building up his body and mind until he felt like there was nothing he couldn’t do. His soul longed to make this journey. His heart screamed out for it. He didn’t see the point in living if he couldn’t at least try.
He couldn’t eat, he couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t sit still sometimes. Such was the demonic fever with which he was possessed. He had to do this. He just had to. The ordinary, safe, unfulfilling career his mother had always had in mind for him simply wasn’t his destiny. He was made for science, for progress, for greatness.
No one believed in him, but he would show them. They would see he was more than he appeared to be.
In spite of his insistence to Caitlyn that the prospect of freezing to death in the arctic didn’t scare him a bit, he had been exceedingly careful to stock up on top-of-the-line gear. Boots, gloves, goggles, respirator. His crew was supplied with the same. He wouldn’t have them freezing to death, either, if he could possibly help it.
When he put everything on, he looked very strange. Inhuman. Where his face should have been there was only smooth, reflective metal and glass, giving him the appearance of an automaton. An artificial man without eyes or nose or mouth. Later, at his desk, he couldn’t help but sketch himself like that. Then he dated and signed the sketch just like he dated and signed all his notes.
They set sail in May. By July, there was no way to post a letter. They were leagues from the nearest merchant route and would not see another ship until they were well on their way home. Still, Jayce continued to write to his mother and cousin, keeping his tone light yet sincere, always ending with your affectionate cousin or your devoted son and some variation of his signature. J. Talis. Jayce Talis. J. T.
He put the letters in a box in his cabin for safekeeping. He might not be able to send them, but recording his experiences (his hopes, his dreams) in anything other than the official ship’s log gave him the comforting illusion that he had someone to talk to.
Even if he didn’t, really. Even if his mother and cousin would never understand. Even if he was, when it came down to it, horribly alone. He loved his family and they loved him, but he knew even as his pencil scratched over the page that their eyes would pass over his words without truly knowing what they meant. All they cared about was whether he came home alive. Science was of little consequence to them.
Jayce was happy. He really was. How could he have been otherwise, when he was actually here, fully funded and expertly equipped, hot in pursuit of his life’s ambition? He was so ecstatic he felt sick. And yet—and yet, there was something missing, something he had long been deprived of, something he hungered for with a fervor bordering on insanity, something he felt the absence of now more than ever in this cold and barren landscape.
He wanted a friend. His whole life, he had never really had a friend. He hardly knew anyone his own age, having been entirely self-taught in the comfort of his home, where no other children (and, indeed, few human beings of any kind) existed and every hour that passed was quieter than the last. He had cultivated his mind in utter solitude. Everything he had worked for, he had worked for alone.
When he achieved his dreams—if he achieved his dreams—there would be no friend with whom he could share the victory (or, if it came to it, the failure). No friend who would understand the true value of his accomplishments. No friend who thought and hoped and dreamed the way he did.
Alone, that was how he had always done things. That was how he had always been. What other choice did he have, when the entire world seemed dead set against him? He was lucky to even be here right now. He was lucky the crew didn’t belittle and mock their deluded captain and his grandiose ideas.
Well, not to his face, anyway.
“Captain!”
Jayce sat up in alarm. He’d dozed off at his desk, his rugged, bearded face pillowed by a half-finished log entry. The contents of his coffee mug were ice cold and he could hear his pencil rolling about somewhere on the floor. He jumped up, threw on his coat, gloves, and respirator, and, stumbling slightly with the motion of the ship, emerged from his cabin.
It was almost night. The lanterns were lit in anticipation of darkness.
“Ice,” the lieutenant stated grimly. He and Jayce paced up and down the deck, from bow to stern and back again, scanning the frigid landscape through shining telescopes. Ice. Ice, ice, ice. The sea was freezing over; there was no way out. A thick fog was rolling in, too, which wouldn’t help matters.
“Lay to,” Jayce ordered. There was no point in trying to maneuver out of here. They would simply have to stay put and wait until morning. Hopefully by then the ice would disperse and they would be able to continue their voyage.
“Lay to,” shouted the lieutenant.
The following morning, the temperature had dropped significantly, and the sea was frozen solid. There was no sign of water anywhere. Jayce could have disembarked and gone for a lovely stroll if he felt so inclined. In fact, he was half tempted to do just that, if only to have an interesting story to tell when he got home. The only thing that stopped him was his promise to his mother and Caitlyn not to do anything reckless.
The men leaned over the gunwales, peering out into the fog, which was lessening. The entire world seemed one vast desert of rippling white ice.
Jayce fretted. How long would these conditions last? Days? Weeks? Surely not months? Being stuck in place was preferable to being shipwrecked, but not necessarily ideal.
“Captain!”
Jayce turned. The lieutenant, the master, and the crew were rushing to the opposite side of the deck, compelled by some fascinating sight off to the east. Many were shouting and pointing, while the rest gazed in speechless wonder. Their captain joined them, following their collective gaze. At first he didn’t believe what he was seeing.
A dark shape, something moving. Good god! Half a mile away, a sledge was racing over the frozen sea, pulled by a team of eight dogs, guided by what might have been a human being. But—no, that was impossible. Who had ever heard of a human being that size? Whatever-it-was was eight feet tall at least and so broad it barely fit on the sledge.
Jayce could do nothing but stare. Was he dreaming? Perhaps he hadn’t been getting as much sleep as he should. He watched through his telescope, his heart pounding, his mind racing, until the sledge and its passenger had vanished from sight.
The men murmured in mystification and excitement. They had not expected to see anyone else out here.
“He’s lost,” the lieutenant said after a long, tense pause. “Headed north, to his peril. But there’s nothing we can do.”
“Maybe he’s from the pole,” Jayce suggested.
“Maybe.”
“If the weather doesn’t hold—”
“We couldn’t pursue him if we wanted to. We’re stuck.”
“Whoever he is, he must have seen us. If he’s in danger, he’ll turn back and ask for help.” Jayce shut his telescope and put it away. He felt light-headed and vague, as if he were still dreaming. “Wake me up when the ice breaks.”
They weren’t going anywhere anytime soon. What better time to get some much-needed rest? He returned to his cabin, closed the door, and collapsed on the bed without even taking off his boots.
He did not know how long he slept—an hour or a day. All he knew was that, when he finally emerged from his cabin, the ice was gone, the sea was blue, his breath was coming out in big puffs of smoke, and the crew was gathered at the gunwale, talking to someone in the water.
Jayce approached them. His first thought was that the half-human, half-giant creature they had seen yesterday had come back. To ask for directions, perhaps, or to borrow supplies. But how could that be, if the ice was gone? The sledge would sink, wouldn’t it? He moved quickly, his curiosity too strong to resist, and peered over the edge of the ship.
There was no half-human, half-giant creature. Instead, Jayce beheld a man. A shockingly thin and inexplicably situated but otherwise decidedly normal man. He was sitting in a sledge, which was sitting on a large, drifting fragment of ice. There were no dogs in sight except one, a big, fluffy, wolflike beast huddled up at the man’s side.
Jayce wondered what had happened to the other dogs. Surely it was impossible to make it this far with just one. The crew, with shouted warnings and emphatic gestures, seemed to be trying to persuade the man to come aboard.
As soon as the lieutenant saw Jayce, he shouted down to the man, “here is our captain, and he will not allow you to perish on the open sea.”
The man in the sledge lowered his balaclava. Even from a distance, Jayce could see that he was deathly ill. What was he doing out here, in the middle of the arctic ocean, on a damn sledge, of all things? How long had he been stranded? If the ice melted any more, he and his dog would drown. But the man seemed in no hurry to be rescued.
When he spoke, it was in English, and calmly, with an accent that Jayce couldn’t quite place as anything more specific than European.
“Before I come on board your vessel, will you have the kindness to inform me where you are going?”
Jayce was speechless. It hardly mattered which way they were headed, did it, when the man was moments from death? He might have said so, but in the interest of saving time, he decided to humor him instead.
“North.”
“Then I will come aboard.”
“Lower the lifeboat,” Jayce ordered, but the lifeboat was already being lowered. As he watched, the man in the sledge struggled, with the help of a crutch, to stand up. The pitiful wretch. He was half-frozen, his movements clumsy and stiff, and one of his knees didn’t seem to want to bend at all. He basically had to hop on one foot, which, in his condition, was all but impossible.
“Wait,” Jayce called to him. “Don’t move. They’re coming to help you.”
“I can manage.”
“Don’t be foolish! Do you want to fall?”
The man raised his head to give Jayce a look of what might have been annoyance. It was hard to tell. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of big, round goggles, which were so white with frost there was no way in hell he could see out of them. Jayce noticed that the man’s hair, sticking out of his hood at odd angles, was stiff and white with frost, as well. His nose and cheekbones, inadequately protected from the wind, were fiercely red.
Frostbite! Jayce’s stomach lurched.
“Step to,” he shouted to his men. “Quickly!” There was no time to lose. If they were lucky, they could still prevent irreparable damage. Jayce was already imagining the man’s fingers completely black beneath those frost-covered gloves.
The lifeboat was rowed out to the ice and the man and his dog were carried, unprotesting, aboard. Just in time, too. As Jayce watched, burning with curiosity, unable to tear himself away, the sledge lost whatever precarious hold it had had on the ice. It hit the water with a splash and began to sink.