Page 4 of Love Below Zero

4

IMPOSSIBLE THINGS

JAMES

There are two impossible things in my inbox the next day. As I settle in for our last full night’s work at the observatory, two notifications jump out at me.

The first is an email from Oxford University.

The second is a direct message from Rebecca Baxter.

I click on Baxter’s message first.

Rebecca Baxter

Any chance you’re actually going to Mars? I hear there’s a colony of condescending assholes up there. You can be their leader.

We haven’t spoken since the incident at the panel discussion in May. Clearly that is about to change. I immediately type back.

Me

No, I’ll be going to Antarctica. Struggling with reading comprehension today? The press release and the email we all received were very clear.

I’m not expecting a response, but almost immediately the three typing dots pop up. My heart rate speeds up. I can picture her face as she reads my message, eyes as dark and unfathomable as the night sky sparking with fury.

Rebecca Baxter

I hope you get eaten by a polar bear.

I muffle my laughter, not wanting to attract the attention of the other astronomers, or worse, Jules. She’s been a little too excited about the prospect of Baxter and I going to Mars together. I quickly type out a reply.

Me

There are no polar bears in Antarctica.

The earth’s southern pole is truly a desolate place, more so than the North Pole. It’s the closest we could get to being on another planet. The isolation and icy temperature make for the ideal testing environment. No greenery, animals or humans in sight. In fact, Antarctica is often referred to as the “white Mars.” It is the perfect setting to run tests on the human psyche. I wonder how long mine will be able to cope with Baxter.

Five of us are going into the dome. Eli I already know, but Jemison and Hall are strangers. Normally this fact would terrify me, but I’ve gotten better at managing my social anxiety. Besides, the organised nature of the study will give us plenty to talk about. No need for me to prepare any conversations.

Another notification pops up, and I almost knock over the cup of coffee I grabbed from the kitchen in my haste to open it. I carefully place the cup out of harm’s way before reading the message.

Rebecca Baxter

There are killer whales though. Would be a shame if you found yourself in the jaws of one.

For a brief moment I wonder if she will find a way to make that possible in her next book. Inventing an entire species of space whales just so one could eat me is kind of flattering.

Me

Spoilers for Traverse Four? Or have you run out of creative ways to kill fictional me and you’re going to try your hand at the real thing?

Rebecca Baxter

I googled it. Maritime law doesn’t apply to Antarctica, so I will not be committing any real crimes.

A pause before another message comes through.

Rebecca Baxter

I might still take my chances though.

Me

I guess I’ll take mine too. See you in a few months, Baxter.

I’m reluctant to end our conversation, but I do have work to do. And another email to read. I’m loath to admit just how much I like talking to her. I enjoyed it even when we were throwing less than savoury comments at each other over YouTube. It’s a strange feeling for me. I don’t usually enjoy talking to other people, besides Jules and, on occasion, Eli. I didn’t, as a rule, talk to Rebecca. Yet it was surprisingly easy, and fun.

Curious.

I take a sip of my coffee before clicking through to my emails. For the second time today, I’m utterly stunned.

Dear Doctor Reid,

I hope this email finds you well. Firstly, I would like to congratulate you on being chosen for Operation Below Zero. It is an incredible opportunity to further our understanding of space travel and its effects on the human brain and body. It is also an incredible achievement, and as such, we would like to extend an invitation for you to apply for the combined teaching and research position that just opened up in our astrophysics department. Please see attached for more information.

As we understand, you are to be second in command for this mission, overseeing the other projects that will run simultaneously with the food study. If all goes well, we will take this experience into account when making your appointment.

We hope that you will consider this opportunity, and we wish you luck on your mission.

Regards,

Professor Matthew Bishop, Head of Astrophysics, University of Oxford.

I grab my phone before getting up and marching to Jules’ workstation. She’s bent over the computer, eyes roaming over the new data that just came in. She looks up as I approach, one eyebrow raised in question.

“I need to talk to you,” I say, gesturing for her to follow me outside. The look on my face must have told her enough, because she doesn’t ask any questions, she just follows.

We step outside the workroom, onto a small balcony with a breathtaking view of the coast. I pull up the email on my phone and wordlessly hand it to her. She skims through it, eyes flicking across the screen before looking up at me again.

“James, this is amazing!” She throws her arms around me, which is impressive considering the height difference between us, and squeezes tight. My brain is still lagging a few seconds behind, trying to wrap itself around the email.

Jules steps back, still holding my phone. “Matthew Bishop ... wasn’t he your doctoral advisor?”

I nod. “I haven’t heard from him in years though.” Professor Bishop was a good advisor. He knew exactly when to push me and when to let me do my own thing, and his steady hand guided my research for years. We had fallen out of touch when I left Cambridge. I didn’t even know he had moved to Oxford.

“Obviously he’s been keeping an eye on you,” Jules says, leaning back against the balcony railing as she rereads the email.

“Do you think he knows about Cambridge? About Sara?” My brain has finally flicked through my available emotional spectrum and settled on panic.

The demand for astronomers these days is low. If you aren’t working for either NASA or the ESA, you have a teaching or research position at a university. Private companies seldom have need for them, and I would rather suffocate in the cold void of space before setting foot inside a place like SpaceX. Unfortunately, that means I’m currently only a research fellow at University College London. By no means a terrible job, but not the one I want.

I want to teach. It’s part of why I started the YouTube channel in the first place. I want to share my knowledge of our strange and beautiful universe with enquiring young minds. And I would have had that opportunity at Cambridge, if it weren’t for Sara.

“I doubt it. Only Sara knows what she did, the stewed prune.” Jules is slow to anger, but when she gets there, she tends to resort to Shakespearian insults. “This is a good thing, James.”

“I’m not so sure.” I fold my arms across my chest, leaning against the railing next to her, our backs to the ocean. “This mission will be stressful enough without the added pressure of a possible position at Oxford.”

I’m already worried about being second in command, a decision I wholeheartedly disagree with. Add to that the stress of seeing Baxter again, and the opportunity to get my dream job, and my palms are sweating. I’ve worked very hard to create a low-anxiety environment for myself, but Baxter has a tendency to cause chaos. First the YouTube channel, and now the Mars mission. I don’t like this one bit.

“Maybe I should back out.” I do not need the stress, and I would still be able to apply for the Oxford position. I won’t have the added bonus of an analog mission on my CV, but there is a lot I could do to strengthen my credentials in the meantime.

“Absolutely not,” Jules says, grabbing my arm and giving me a little shake. “This is the opportunity of a lifetime. You can’t pass it up because of Rebecca.”

“She’s just ...” Chaos. Out of my control. Stunning. “... a distraction I don’t need right now.”

Jules lets go of my arm, her expression turning serious. “Well let’s approach this logically. The bad blood between you and Rebecca could impact the mission, which in turn could impact your possible appointment at Oxford.”

“Correct.” Jules was always good at voicing my problems, even when I couldn’t.

“So it stands to reason that if there were no bad blood between you two, then it can’t impact the mission negatively.”

“Also correct.”

“You need to apologise, then.”

I snort. “For what exactly?”

Jules levels me with a glare. We’ve had this conversation before.

I sigh. “Yes, alright. I was ... harsh in my review of her book. But everything that happened afterwards was not exclusively my fault. ”

“True, but someone has to make the first move, so it might as well be you.”

It’s what the second in command would do. Easier said than done though. It’s just so simple to fall into our regular pattern of insults and snide remarks. Without a shield of sarcasm between us, what are we? Surely not friends. I don’t think that’s how friendship works. I don’t do well with poorly-defined relationships or subtext. I need to outright know where I stand with someone. Rebecca is an enemy. There are clearly defined expectations and conventions for interacting with her. If I clear the air between us, where does that leave us?

The uncertainty of it is almost too much to bear.

“What do I even say to her?” I wonder. “‘I’m sorry I called your work unoriginal’?”

“You could always tell her that you never go anywhere without the special editions of her books. And that you read them every night before bed. I’m sure she’d be delighted to have that information.” Jules snickers, nudging me with her shoulder.

“I deeply regret this friendship,” I groan, running a hand across my face.

“No, you don’t,” Jules says sweetly. “You’ll figure out what to say to her. Just be yourself.”

“That’s the worst possible advice.”

“It’s not. You’re smart, kind, and funny. You just have to let her see that.”

I might be all those things, but I am also imperious and pedantic, and it is only my worst traits that make an appearance when I’m anxious.

“I’ll try,” I mumble. It’s the best I can do.

“Good.” Jules hands me back my phone. “Try not to worry too much about Oxford. Just focus on the mission, and the rest will follow.”

“At least there will be another familiar face on the crew besides Baxter.” I realise my mistake a moment too late. A flash of pain crosses her face, there and gone in the blink of an eye. We never talk about Eli Gallo, at least Jules never does, and I take the cue from her that she doesn’t want to discuss her ex.

“Do you think you could just push him into a glacier for me?”

I laugh softly, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “I’d do it for you, even though I’ll be convicted of murder.”

“Antarctica doesn’t fall under maritime law?”

“I’ve been informed that it does not.”

Jules leans her head against my shoulder. “It’s been five years. It shouldn’t still bother me this much.”

Jules and I met Eli at Cambridge in our second year. For Jules it was love at first sight. Eli took a while longer to get there. He was always painfully aware of his good looks and sharp intellect. Jules spent years pining over him until he came to his senses. They were together for only a few months when Eli was offered a position at NASA. He took it, leaving Jules behind and her heart in tatters.

I haven’t really spoken to him since the break-up. I’m a child of divorce, so I knew early on I had to pick a side. Jules was the natural choice.

Still, I miss the Italian and his obsession with rocks. We text on occasion, but every word feels like a betrayal of my best friend. I also know a thing or two about the kind of grief break-ups cause.

“Grief isn’t always linear, or easy to get over.”

She nods against my shoulder before pulling away. “We should get back. We only have a few hours of telescope time left.”

“If we’re lucky, we might spot the Tesla tonight.” Its path is supposed to cross the area we’re monitoring.

“Wouldn’t that be exciting,” Jules says, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. She starts toward the door before stopping and turning to face me again. “Promise me you’ll make the most out of this mission. No hiding.”

“No hiding,” I confirm. “I promise.”

I just hope I’ll be able to keep that promise. Especially considering what happened the last time Rebecca and I met face to face.