❄️ 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 the familiar 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 stepped inside.
Lucas lay propped up on several pillows, a high-flow oxygen mask secured across his face. Each breath made a brief cloud of vapour, the constant hiss of humidified oxygen filling the gaps. An oxygen probe was taped to his finger—the monitor giving a constantly variable reading: 89—90—91—90%.
Each breath made with effort.
Eugene had never seen his friend like this. 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 the gap—the unspoken elephant in the room.
Then, 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 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, then let it fall back.
Lucas: They… they stuck a tube… up my—
He stopped, his breath catching. A cough. The effort of the words overtaking 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, 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, the way the mask fogged faintly with each exhale.
Fast. Still too fast.
Lucas’ eyes drifted for a moment, not fully closing… just losing focus.
Eugene reached out without thinking, adjusting the edge of the blanket, and then—a brief touch to his friend’s hand.
Eugene: You’re gonna be all good, mate.
Lucas had drifted off again—asleep.
Eugene stood, stepping back from the bed, giving 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. 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, acknowledging his presence.
Eugene: He’s asleep.
After a moment, Sanna moved off down the corridor, her pace steady and unhurried.
Eugene: He’s… he’s doing a bit better, right?
Rebecca didn’t answer immediately.
A pause—not long, but just enough to register.
Rebecca: He’s holding for now.
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 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.
His eyes felt prickly, and a faint drip appeared at the end of his nose. 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, 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, runners up on blocks, ice, dirt, and grit chipped away in careful, methodical taps. Ganglines were checked, harnesses untangled and hung to dry. Packs were opened, contents spread, sorted, and repacked.
The dogs were now well rested, and they had been fed—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 on their bedding. A few remained alert, heads up, watching the busy movement of the yard around them, missing nothing—ears flicking back and forth at familiar sounds, eager 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 it all in, just watching.
Everything where it should be, and everything accounted for.
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—let things 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.
A thought.
Markus: And the rig?
Matthias glanced towards the distant line of mountains separating them from the valley beyond.
Matthias: Yeah—that’s busted good.
Markus nodded.
Matthias: New rig, new drilling site—we can go again.
Another pause.
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. Nothing 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.
Rebecca didn’t stop.
She didn’t need to.
A slight shake of her head. A brief look.
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, 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 looked back towards the teams.
Jake: We’ll be heading out again soon—they need a run.
Rebecca: Thank you—they all did so well.
Jake gave a small shrug.
Jake: 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 holding. For now.
Huxley absorbed the news.
Huxley: Prognosis?
Another pause.
Rebecca: They’re doing everything they can. They may need to ventilate.
A glance.
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 Lucas 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.
It was nothing he could see on the screen. He looked for a pattern that didn’t quite resolve.
He rubbed at his throat absently.
Dry.
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.
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.
James: I don’t know.
At the far end of the room, Eugene had found a comfortable chair and sat down heavily, elbows on his knees, hands cupped under his chin.
For a moment, the room felt much too warm.
He pulled at the collar of his jumper and considered removing it.
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 in need of a good sleep.
Outside, the grey sky pressed low over the fjord.
The storm had passed.
The base had reset.
Things were back under control.
Screw Pile Developments 
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