❄️ Norðvik Hospital — Day 6
Inside Norðvik Hospital, the usual hum of its early morning routine carried through the corridors.
Staff arrived for their morning shifts, stopping by the coffee shop, hot drinks in hand to start their day. Institutional fluorescent lighting ran the length of the corridors as the cleaners mopped the floors, deploying a trail of wet floor signs as they went. Night shift handovers were well underway.
Eugene paused at the doorway, one hand resting briefly on the frame as he adjusted his mask. He pressed quickly at the bridge of his nose.
He took a breath and stepped inside.
Lucas lay propped up on several pillows, a high-flow oxygen mask secured across his face. Each breath came with a brief cloud of vapour, and the constant hiss of humidified oxygen filled the gaps. An oxygen probe was taped to his finger and the monitor gave a constantly variable reading: 89—90—91—90%.
Each breath was clearly made with effort.
Eugene had never seen his friend like this. The truth was, he had never seen anyone like this.
Lucas’ eyes opened slowly as he recognised his friend.
Eugene moved in closer, quietly pulling up a chair. He sat, leaning forward slightly, hands resting deliberately on his knees, not quite knowing what to do with them.
Eugene: Hey mate.
Lucas didn’t answer straight away. His rapid breathing filled in the gaps. That breathing, the unspoken elephant in the room.
Then, came a small shift and a ghost of a grin.
Lucas: Hey, Geno… how’s… the weather?
The words came broken and hesitant. The plastic tubing flexed slightly with each word and the effort of his speech.
Eugene leaned in a fraction.
Eugene: What? Oh… um, the weather… um yeah, it snowed again. That storm took a really big dump.
Lucas lifted a hand slightly, as if to gesture somewhere towards the end of the bed, and then let it fall back.
Lucas: They… they stuck a tube… up my—
He stopped, his breath catching. A fit of coughing ensued. The effort of the words and the coughing, overtook the joke.
Eugene glanced at the bag hanging on the corner of the bed.
Lucas gave the faintest shake of his head. He knew his joke hadn’t quite landed.
Lucas, was still Lucas, despite everything.
Eugene managed a smile anyway.
Eugene: Yeah… I guess that sounds about right.
The smile didn’t stay long.
He watched the rise and fall of Lucas’ upper chest, and the way the mask fogged faintly with each exhale.
Fast. Still too fast.
Lucas’ eyes drifted for a moment, not fully closing… just losing their focus.
Eugene reached out without thinking, and adjusted the edge of the blanket. He then made a brief touch to his friend’s hand.
Eugene: You’re gonna be all good, mate.
Lucas had drifted off again, and was asleep.
Eugene stood, stepped back from the bed, and gave Lucas one last look before turning.
Just outside the room, Rebecca stood speaking quietly with Sanna. Rebecca had been with Lucas from the start. She had seen his rapid spiral downward over the last few days and she knew things were not good.
Their voices were low, the conversation clinical, precise, and contained.
Reality.
Rebecca nodded at the appropriate moments.
Eugene reappeared from the room. He didn’t intrude on their conversation, he didn’t need to hear it.
Rebecca and Sanna turned, and acknowledged his presence.
Eugene: He’s asleep.
After a moment, Sanna moved off down the corridor, her pace steady and unhurried.
Eugene looked at Rebecca and caught her eyes.
Eugene: He’s… he’s doing a bit better, right?
Rebecca didn’t answer immediately.
There was a pause, not long, but just enough to register.
Rebecca: He’s stable for now, Gene.
Eugene glanced back towards the door.
The muffled sound of the humidifier could still be heard.
Eugene: He’s gonna be okay — right, Bec?
Rebecca’s hunde eyes again met his briefly. They betrayed her sadness.
Rebecca: They’re doing everything they can, Gene.
It wasn’t an answer. Not the one he wanted to hear.
Eugene nodded anyway. In his heart, he already knew enough. It was bad news. Very bad.
His eyes felt prickly, and a faint drip appeared at the end of his nose and he wiped it away with the side of his hand.
❄️ Norðvik Arctic Research Base — Day 6: Morning
The wind had eased considerably overnight.
The sky remained grey and overcast, with a dull gloom hanging over the fjord. However, the worst of the storm had passed.
Around the base, it was a hive of activity.
Sleds were laid out in the open yard, their runners up on blocks, and ice, dirt, and grit were carefully cleaned away. Ganglines were checked, harnesses untangled and hung up to dry. The packs were opened, contents spread, sorted, and repacked.
The dogs were now well rested, and they had been fed with freshly caught salmon, energy rich to replenish and reward their efforts from the last couple of days.
Most were settled now, some curled outside in the snow napping, others inside on their bedding. A few remained alert, with their heads up, watching the busy movement of the yard around them, missing nothing. Their ears flicked back and forth at familiar sounds, still eager as ever for their next run.
Erik moved between them with quiet efficiency, checking over each dog in turn, eyes, ears, and paws.
Nyra sat close at Jake’s side, still and attentive, her focus shifting between her master, the remainder of the dogs, and the activity across the yard.
Jake stood with her, arms relaxed, one paw on her head, scritching behind one of her ears. Both taking in the scene, just watching.
Everything where it should be, and everything and everyone accounted for safely.
Matthias crouched beside one of the sleds, running a gloved paw along the runners, checking for any damage.
Markus stood nearby, holding a steaming coffee.
Matthias: We can fly back in there in a couple of days once the weather clears.
Markus: We left a bit of a mess over there.
Matthias shrugged.
Matthias: Storm’s passed. Give it time, things will settle.
We dig everything out, flush the fuel lines on Genny, new filters… she’ll run.
Markus took a sip, considering.
Markus: Diesel’s still waxed.
Matthias: We can fix it with the right additives. Warm it and mix it through properly. It’ll clear.
Markus looked thoughtful.
Markus: And the rig?
Matthias glanced towards the distant line of mountains separating them from the valley and the camp that lay beyond.
Matthias: Yeah — nah, that’s busted good.
Markus nodded in agreement.
Matthias: New rig, new drilling site, we can go again.
Markus studied his friend.
Markus: Tents?
Matthias: They’re mostly intact, they’ll just need a bit of digging out.
The supply annex is totally munted, and we’ll need a few new straps and anchors. There’s nothing there we can’t fix.
Markus took another long slug of his coffee.
Markus: We’ll see what The Hux says.
Rebecca and Eugene crossed the yard together, the crunch of snow underfoot the only sound between them.
A few heads turned expectantly as they passed, but Rebecca didn’t stop.
She didn’t need to.
She gave a slight shake of her head and gave just the briefest of looks.
That was enough, the message carried as loudly as if the words had been spoken.
Eugene walked beside her, much quieter than usual, his gaze unfocused. He rubbed at his nose again, quick and dismissive, as if brushing away the cold.
Jake turned as they approached.
Jake: How is he?
The answer was direct.
Rebecca: He’s not good.
Jake held her gaze for a moment, and then gave a single nod.
Jake: Sanna will take good care of him. She’s the best.
Rebecca: She will.
Nyra remained still beside him, watching them both intently as they talked.
Jake then looked back towards the teams.
Jake: We’ll be heading out again soon, they’ll need a run.
Rebecca: Thank you. They all did so well.
Jake gave a small shrug.
Jake: You’re welcome, that’s what we do.
Inside, the warmth of the base felt almost excessive after being out in the cold.
Arctic jackets and pants hung from pegs, the air carrying a mixture of smells, damp fabric, pizza, and coffee. Snow boots lined the walls. Snatches of conversations could be heard coming from various corners of the main communal space.
Huxley stood near the centre of the room, holding a steaming mug. He looked up as Rebecca approached.
Huxley: Report.
Rebecca walked over to him directly.
Rebecca: He’s on high-flow oxygen. Still working hard to breathe, upper chest only.
Huxley: Stable?
A fraction of a pause.
Rebecca: He…
Her voice wavered momentarily.
…he is stable. For now.
Huxley absorbed the news.
Huxley: Prognosis?
Another pause.
Rebecca: They’re doing everything they can. They may need to ventilate.
Huxley glanced at Rebecca for just a moment.
Huxley: Understood.
He took a sip from his mug.
Huxley: The rest of the team?
Rebecca: Exhausted. The engineers are still at it outside.
I’m keeping an eye on Eugene, he’s not taking the news of Lucas’ condition well.
Huxley nodded once.
Huxley: Very well.
Thanks, Bec.
Across the room, James sat at one of the tables, a laptop open in front of him. Data scrolled across the screen: borehole logs, drilling depths, temperature traces, pressure readings, and core sample logs.
He paused, frowning slightly.
There was something that didn’t sit right, but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was.
It was nothing he could see on the screen in front of him. He looked for a pattern that wasn’t quite there.
He rubbed at his throat absently.
It was dry and scratchy.
He took a sip from a mug beside him.
Elena sat nearby, reviewing her own notes and data on her laptop.
James: The pressure spike… it doesn’t line up cleanly with the earlier readings.
Elena didn’t look up.
Elena: It vented. That resets the system.
James: Yes, but before that, the event before it blew.
Elena glanced over.
Elena: We drilled into a thermal pocket beneath a massive decomposing biomass. The rising heat thawed the permafrost, along with whatever was buried there. That’s your event.
James leaned back slightly in his chair, he was trying to grasp at something that he knew was there, but was just out of his reach.
James: It’s not just the event that bothers me.
Elena: It doesn’t need to be anything else. What’s bothering you?
A brief silence.
James looked back at the screen. He trusted his data implicitly, but the answer simply was not there.
James: I don’t know.
At the far end of the room, Eugene had found a comfortable chair and sat down heavily, placed his elbows on his knees, and cupped his hands under his chin. How long he stayed like that he did not know.
For a moment, the room felt much too warm and he pulled at the collar of his jumper and considered removing it.
But then, despite the warm room, he shivered. He didn’t take his jumper off.
He murmured to himself.
Eugene: I’m just tired.
He felt upset and he was also in need of a good sleep.
Outside, the grey sky pressed low over the fjord.
The storm had passed, the base had reset, and things were now back under control.
Nominal.
Screw Pile Developments 
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