Page 1 of The Viking in the Vault
1
ELENA
Walking into work on M’mir never gets old.
The air inside the Eiskammer bites at my skin everywhere I’m not covered up, even seeping through my fleece coat and homemade scarf. It’s the kind of cold that settles deep in your bones and refuses to leave, the kind that cozies up with you and makes a home in your heart. Above me, pale light filters through layers of multifaceted ice, painting the cavernous entry hall in swirls of blue and silver.
The Eiskammer. The largest climate science archive in the galaxy. A labyrinth of ancient knowledge carved into the icy heart of M’mir’s North Pole.
I walk through the entry hall, among the massive ice cores towering up toward the ceiling. Encased in clear, the reinforced cylinders stretch toward the ceiling, holding time itself in their frozen hearts.
Even after six months of working here, the sight makes my breath hitch. And I would really like to get straight to work…
…but I have a meeting.
And that makes walking into work much less pleasant.
I tighten my grip on my satchel and force myself forward, walking toward one of the warmer pockets of the Eiskammer:the faculty offices. Awe doesn’t excuse tardiness, and Dr. Renata Kallipso is not the kind of supervisor who lets little things like awe slide. The hall is mostly empty, save for the hum of maintenance droids and my all-too-loud footsteps. She’ll have definitely heard me by now, and I’m sure she’s just waiting to remind me that I should already be in the lab, logging samples or analyzing data.
The warmth of the faculty offices is a small mercy when I step inside, though it’s not enough to ease the knot forming in my stomach. Renata is going to notice. She always notices. And, like clockwork, her voice cuts through the air the moment I step into the hallway.
“Draycott, you’re late.”
I stop in my tracks, wincing at the sharpness in her tone. For half a second, I consider turning around and heading straight to the lab. Maybe she’d forget about me if I just stayed quiet enough.
“Elena?”
Nope. Not a chance.
Renata Kallipso is already seated at her desk, her datapad in one hand, the other scrolling through a holographic interface. Her short silver hair is slicked back, as precise as the rest of her: her tailored grey jacket, her perfectly arched brow, turquoise eyes made brighter by the glasses perched on the end of her nose. Even the way she breathes seems calculated, like she’s cataloging every one of my mistakes in real-time.
“Sorry,” I mumble, pulling off my gloves and shoving them into my coat pocket. “My sister called and I lost track of time. I thought I’d kept it to five minutes–”
“Five minutes you don’t have,” she mutters without looking up. “You’re on a deadline, Draycott–and so am I. I’m going to need reports on the samples from Ystrid-27 by the end of the week.”
“I was actually going to head down to start logging samples from Llaekis Prime,” I tell her, hoping she doesn’t react too badly. “I think there’s some rich material there for my work on rising sea levels. If–”
Her head snaps up, eyes narrowed. “Absolutely not.”
Her tone is so sharp it takes me a moment to find my voice again. “Excuse me?”
She sets the datapad down, her eyes locking onto mine. “There was an earthquake last night–didn’t you feel it? A minor one, but it caused structural instability in several sections of the archive. The sub-levels are off limits until further notice.”
I clutch my satchel tighter, trying to keep my frustration from showing. “But the Llaekis Prime cores are critical for my dissertation, Dr. Kallisto. And that’s my priority, right? Without them, I can’t complete my own analysis. Those samples–”
“Are not worth your life.” Renata’s expression doesn’t waver. “You’ll find another way. Focus on the Ystrid cores. They’ll keep you busy until we’ve assessed the damage.”
“I’ll be careful–”
“This isn’t up for debate, Draycott,” she cuts in, voice steely. “I won’t risk you, or another collapse. You know the risk is too great.”
I want to argue. Talking with my sister this morning really lit a fire under me; Marcy told me they’re saying they’ll have to evacuate Santa Rosa soon if there’s another hurricane. My research could save the town where I grew up.
But I know Renata won’t budge.
“Understood,” I mutter.
“Good.” She picks up her datapad, already dismissing me. “Make yourself useful.”
