Neanderthal Swan Song

Chapter ONE

Northeast Greenland National Park, near Station Nord

23 April, 2023

Snow sprayed behind the dogsled as Phil Markey applied the brake. Three wooden boxes slid forward until they struck a pile of blankets at the front of the sled. A tawny-skinned woman, tightly bundled against the cold, emerged from beneath the blankets. Why don't you tie those things down? I'm tired, frozen, and beaten.

Get over it, Clara. Markey stepped off the sled and pulled one of the boxes into the snow. "We only have two more seismographs after this. Besides, it isn't all that cold out. He went down on one knee with a grunt and inspected the box containing his seismograph. You're tired. I'm doing all the standing, and I weigh at least three times what you do. Maybe four."

She relented, tossing the blankets aside as she got to her feet. Where do you think we should put this one?

Markey pointed toward a depression perhaps twenty meters across and surrounded by boulders protruding from the ice. The seismograph should be well sheltered down there, and the nearest slope has some patches of bare soil. That will make for decent footing when we do our rounds.

They carried the seismograph to the slope. Markey led the way, taking deliberate steps to avoid slipping. The sled disappeared from view as they passed behind one of the boulders, causing the huskies and malamutes to whimper.

Markey waited for Clara to adjust her grip before setting the seismograph down in the center of the depression. She immediately stuffed her gloved hands into the pockets of her parka.

The whimpers from the sled team turned to nervous yips. Clara looked back toward the footprints they just made. Huskies are such noisy dogs.

More than usual. Markey grabbed Clara by the arm. I don't like it.

They didn't take three steps before the dogs began all-out barking. Markey let go of Clara's arm to reach for the shotgun strapped across his back. He jogged back up the slope, taking care not to turn the ankle he sprained last year. Markey slipped going up the slope anyway, and went down to all fours.

Clara passed him and reached the top first. She gasped, then called out in a squeaky voice. Dr. Markey, the dogs.

Whatever she saw, it had Clara out of her normal composure. Markey got back to his feet and scrambled up the rest of the slope. At the top he saw what upset Clara. The dog team had run off in a haphazard way. Lead dogs pulled those who lost their footing or tried to run in a different direction. The sled tipped onto its side, dropping the last two seismographs into the snow.

Clara pointed toward the dogs and spoke in a shrill and desperate tone. How can we get them to stop? It's a long way back to base

Shh! Markey took a few steps forward so he could see around the boulders. To the east, the ice disappeared into the coastal mountains, still largely covered with snow. To the west, an ice cliff defined the edge of the glacier where the vast expanse of snow-covered ice continued into the Greenlandic interior. To the north, more ice with occasional patches of open ground framed the dogs as they receded into the distance.

What made them run? At first, he could see nothing unusual in the long spring shadows, but then he saw something move. Something large and white, and running right at the dog team. Polar Bear.

Clara shaded her eyes with a gloved hand. I see it.

Markey responded by pumping the shotgun. He shouldered it and hesitated. It had been a long time since he fired one, and never at a moving target.

He bit his glove and pulled it from his right hand so he could get his finger on the trigger. The chill air bit at his flesh as he dropped the glove and took aim. Three words came back from his six-year-old training. Squeeze the trigger.

As he fired, Clara's gloved hand came from his right and pushed the barrel left. BLAM! What the--why did you do that? I could have shot one of the dogs.

Clara jerked her hand back from the recoil, then she furled her eyebrows and pouted. Polar bears are endangered.

So are the dogs, now. Markey fished another shell from his pocket so he could reload. As the echo from the first shot faded away, the yipping and barking of the dogs stopped. He slid the new shell into the empty chamber and glanced toward the dogs to see why they went silent. The reason became immediately clear. The bear stopped chasing the dogs. Instead, it walked directly at Clara and Markey.

Damn. Markey fumbled with the shotgun, trying to get his hands into position to pump it. Clara pushed it aside again. Do you have a death wish, girl?

Make yourself big. Clara unzipped her parka. With hands in the pockets, she spread the parka to make herself look as large as possible. She started walking toward the bear. They're more afraid of us than we are of them. She started running toward the bear.

Clara, no! He reached out to grab her, but missed. Good Lord, don't let her get herself killed. Markey raised the shotgun anyway. Maybe he could get a good shot around her. He aimed, but kept his finger off the trigger. Clara somehow kept herself between the bear and the shotgun.

The bear had its own ideas. Apparently not frightened by Clara's brash show of largeness, the bear rose up on its hind legs and let out a roar loud enough to rival the shotgun blast. In that moment, Markey noticed how thin and gaunt the bear really was. After the roar, it dropped down to all fours and charged.

Clara!

When she finally realized that this particular bear wouldn't back down, she panicked, running to Markey's right. The bear slipped as it changed course to intercept its prey. A black patch covered much of the white fur on the flailing hind leg as the bear fought to recover its balance. Wounded, too.

The bear gained quickly on Clara, who despite finding a patch of permafrost with good footing, made the mistake of looking over her shoulder. She stumbled over a rock and fell to the ground. Markey had to act now.

BLAM! A crimson cloud exploded from the bear's neck. It took another three strides before weaving from side to side. No longer concerned with its prey, the bear acted like a punch-drunk boxer before falling heavy to the ground.

Markey took a deep breath and slung the shotgun back over his shoulder. He ran toward Clara and the bear, and found her sprawled out on the permafrost cowering from teeth that would never come. One more shotgun blast made certain of it. The tang of blood in the cold air made his stomach a bit queasy. It went away as he turned away from the beast and faced his graduate student with a mixture of concern and exasperation. Are you okay?

Clara struggled to her feet and then brushed herself off. She shuddered when she looked at what was left of the bear. Yeah. No thanks to that rock.

She said it, but Markey could still sense the fear in her voice. Nearly being eaten can do that to people. He softened his tone a bit. That rock probably saved your life. If you hadn't tripped over it, I might never have had a decent shot at the bear. Markey walked to the rock and kicked at it. His foot connected with a dull thud. Softish, not rock-like at all.

Markey bent down to brush off the maybe-rock with his still-bare hand, the cold snow gnawing at his fingers. A ridge ran above two depressions, almost like a face. A protrusion right where a nose would be, then another depression. A fibrous dark patch at the top sealed his impression. Not a face, but an entire head.

He noticed Clara kneeling beside him, her eyes wide with either fascination or disgust. Markey couldn't tell which, but she soon made it clear with a bit of hysteria. I tripped over a dead body?

Look at it again. Markey guided Clara's eyes with his hand. Most of the body is buried in the permafrost. This didn't happen recently.

Clara nodded, but her constant glances toward the dead bear told Markey that she didn't really want to think about anything except getting back to base. Markey didn't blame her. It took six trips to Greenland before he finally had to face a bear. As much as he hated to admit it, his own hands weren't shaking only from the cold. He had to get Clara's thoughts away from that bear or she would be useless for the rest of the trip.

Let's go. Clara stood and took two steps toward the dogs milling about in the distance. Even if this guy died fifty years ago, he still creeps me out. She took another look at the bear carcass. Almost as much as that monster.

Markey fought the temptation to remind Clara about the endangered species part. A bit more than fifty years, I suspect. Doesn't look human to me. Neanderthal, maybe. I'll contact Lillian and ask her. She would know.

Who is Lillian?

Markey reminded himself that students don't think of faculty on a first name basis. Dr. Lillian Mudge from the anthropology department. We've been friends for a long time, and she likes to talk shop over lunch. We trade stories.

Shouldn't we tell somebody about the body? She hesitated a moment. And the bear?

As soon as we get back. A few distant yelps caught Markey's attention. Hopefully the sled team didn't get too tangled up. He stood and adjusted his parka. We'd better get those dogs. We still have two more seismographs to place, and I want to be back in time for dinner.

Chapter TWO

Station Nord, Greenland

23 April, 2023

Markey sent Clara to stow their gear so that he could report the day's events and discovery to the base commander. He strode through the common room, passing between the long wooden tables as he headed toward the office of Captain Frederik Ingemann. He caught the scent of dinner being prepared in the small kitchen behind the wall to his left. Well, not so much scent as stench.

Fish. Again.

Three soldiers playing cards at a table to his left waved as Markey passed by. He returned the wave and continued along the path in the floor where the finish had long since been worn down to bare wood. He stopped in front of a heavy oak door, equally worn, with a nameplate that read Capt. F. Ingemann. Markey rapped on the door three times, just above the pitted brass doorknob.

The door swung open to reveal a tall, thin man in his late thirties. His dark hair contrasted with his pale skin and khaki uniform shirt. He looked busy, and not completely happy with the disturbance.

Dr. Markey, Ingemann said in passable English, if not heavily accented. Did you finish placing your seismographs?

We just returned. Markey placed his hand against the door frame.

Excellent. Ingemann nodded once, a gesture that Markey learned to mean the conversation had ended. As Ingemann reached for the door, Markey spoke.

That isn't why I stopped by.

One corner of Ingemann's mouth tensed, as if he thought he had been rid of Markey. Oh?

Markey straightened up and took his hand off the door frame. We tangled with a polar bear about three kilometers south of the base. All incidents involving polar bears had to be documented, and Ingemann knew that all too well.

Ingemann sighed. Come inside. He backpedaled to his desk and sat in his wooden chair. Markey took two steps forward and turned around to sit in Ingemann's slightly comfortable guest chair. It creaked as Markey sat, obviously accustom to smaller occupants.

Ingemann, meanwhile, reached into a drawer and pulled a form from his desk, snapped it on a clip board, and picked up a pen. He scribbled on his desk calendar to get the ink flowing, then crossed one leg over the other. Did the incident involve a weapons discharge?

I fired the shotgun twice.

Twice?

Markey's face turned a bit pink with feigned embarrassment. He had no intention of informing Ingemann of Clara's rash actions. I'm not a very good shot. The first time, I only hit his leg. That seemed a fairly safe lie with the bear's pre-existing injury.

Ingemann leaned forward, apparently interested now. Tell me what happened.

Markey related the event, and the entire time, Ingemann wrote on the form in Greenlandic. When Markey had finished, Ingemann stood.

I'm glad you survived. Most people don't get two chances. He placed the clipboard on the desk, apparently resigned to the extra work this encounter would entail.

Markey did not get up. There's something else.

Ingemann's look of frustration returned. What is it?

I found a man buried in the permafrost.

That got Ingemann's attention again. Murdered? Markey knew Ingemann well enough to guess that the good Captain would be more interested in saving his own reputation than investigating a murder in his jurisdiction. Murders never happened in Northeast Greenland National Park, mainly because nobody but soldiers ever went there.

I don't think so, Markey said. He fidgeted in his chair. This certainly meant more paperwork for Ingemann. The face looked pre-historic. Maybe Neanderthal, if I remember my anthropology.

Ingemann's apparently had a loss for words, because the Captain said nothing for an uncomfortably long time. The suspense bothered Markey. He had no idea whether Ingemann liked the news. Finally, Ingemann glanced at the clock on the wall and spoke.

Take me to see this body in about six hours. Ingemann looked out the window behind Markey's back. It does still get dark this time of year.

Markey turned back to look for himself. Twilight lasted a long time this far north, and Markey didn't really have the desire to prance around the wilderness in the dark either. A few hours shut-eye would do him good anyway.

He needed to let Clara know about the change in plans. After excusing himself from Ingemann's office, he walked back through the common room. The soldiers waved him over to get into the card game, but he shook his head.

Sorry, maybe next time. He doubted any of them understood.

The small dormitory for women was located just the other side of the wall from the common room, south of the kitchen. The door to the room, however, had been placed as far from the men's dormitories as possible without putting it outside. That meant a walk clear around the kitchen.

He turned right upon leaving the common room. On his left, he passed the doors of the men's dormitories--first the one he stayed in, then the other. The hallway turned to the right and continued past doors leading to some store rooms and the radio equipment.

Everything would have smelled like old pine had the fish odor from the kitchen not been so overpowering. At the end of the hall, on the right-hand side, was the door to the women's dormitory. Despite boasting four beds, Clara had the room to herself. Markey could recall only one female soldier in all his trips to Station Nord. Clara's complaints of dust when they arrived underscored how rarely women spent time at the station.

Clara had posted a sign on the door that read Please Knock. She also wisely kept the door locked. Soldiers in a remote environment might save your life, but they could also be tempted to things less savory. Markey rapped three times.

Clara opened it almost immediately. Maybe she recognized Markey's knock, or perhaps she knew the sound of his footsteps. Nevertheless, he admonished her for being so careless.

Be sure it's me before you open the door, Markey said. Clara rolled her eyes. Youth meant invincibility. Unless a polar bear got involved, apparently.

Where did you disappear to? Clara asked.

Ingemann's office. All incidents with polar bears must be reported. He stepped into the dorm as Clara sat on her bed. Markey decided to remain standing. He wouldn't stay long.

Did you tell him about the body?

Markey nodded. He wants me to take him there at sunup, so I need to get some rest. Can you check on the seismographs with your pocket computer? See if they are transmitting, and take a quick look at the charts.

Can't I go with you? Her eyes begged, but Markey had already made up his mind about this.

I need you to check the equipment. I'll be wasting enough time for both of us. We didn't come all this way for anthropology. Markey felt bad for the girl as he watched her slouch. Truth was, they got little enough time in the field, and Markey didn't want to waste any of it. Trips to Station Nord always depleted the budget.

He turned toward the door. Good-night, Clara.

Good-night, Dr. Markey.

He closed the door as he left, and waited a moment until he heard the click of Clara locking it.

Chapter THREE

Station Nord, Greenland

24 April, 2023

Dawn came quickly, but the sunrise dragged on and on, making it difficult to get out of bed. The sun would stay low in the sky for most of the day, and never get higher than a late afternoon sun back home. Markey scratched the beard on his cheeks. He always let it grow out whenever he visited Greenland. Every little bit of insulation helped. In fact, the only people at Nord who didn't grow beards were Clara and Ingemann. Somehow, the Captain preferred to remain clean-shaven.

Not today, though. Ingemann burst into the dormitory and stopped in front of Markey's bunk. He had not shaved, and the stubble showed. He did already dress for field work, wearing over his uniform a red plaid flannel lumberjack shirt that Markey wished he owned. It looked warm.

Let's go, Ingemann said. I need to see your caveman so I can start the paperwork. Markey knew that all too well. Two trips ago, he had discovered some Inuit bone tools buried in the ice. The delay nearly cost him his flight home. He had to wait for an anthropologist named Søren Gunnarson to fly in by helicopter from Nuuk to ask a lot of questions. He wondered if Gunnarson would be involved in this find, as well.

All right. Markey ripped off the covers and tried to get his feet to the floor. At least he could expect to lose some extra weight with the running around. Between the exercise and paltry portions at dinner, he always lost weight during a trip to Station Nord. He sighed. I'm coming.

Ingemann started for the door. I'll be connecting the dogs to the sled. With that, he marched through the door and disappeared into the hallway.

Markey dressed in the warmest clothes he brought with him. The coldest part of the day at Station Nord always occurred around dawn. Once he had finished dressing, he made his way to the coat room. Ingemann's empty locker indicated that Markey would find the Captain near the dog kennels. Markey got busy putting on his own parka.

Just like every other time he went outside, the cold blasted his face and seared his lungs. Ingemann had once suggested Markey try Station Nord in the winter. No thanks. Late spring got plenty cold.

The snow crunched underfoot as he walked around the building toward the kennels. Ingemann had already brought out a sled and parked it along the side of the building. He knelt near the front end, attaching a husky.

During five previous trips to Greenland, Markey had demonstrated sufficient sled experience to be allowed to solo, so he helped attach the rest of the dogs. They wagged their bushy tails with excitement. These dogs were born to pull sleds, and they liked nothing better than to get out in the open and run. They would enjoy this run more than normal with the light load. Passengers only, no freight today.

Ingemann already sat in the driver's seat. Markey could drive a sled, but even his experience in the Wisconsin Iditarod didn’t satisfy Ingemann for several years.

Not that they had been out together much in his five trips to Station Nord, but Ingemann always drove whenever they did go out together. He had to rely on Markey to navigate, since Ingemann didn't know where to find the body.

When they arrived at the site of the body, Ingemann glanced around, as if he wanted to find it before Markey could tell him where to look. Ingemann did not find the Neanderthal, but noticed the polar bear immediately.

Ingemann walked up to the bear and looked at the two wounds. We'll take this back to the station when we leave. The men haven't eaten bear for quite a while.

That did sound appetizing. Polar bear steaks, polar bear stew, polar bear casserole, polar bear ribs, polar bear sausages--he just couldn't wait long enough for more of that gamy flavor.

Despite the alluring temptation of bear meat, Markey pulled himself away from the carcass and led Ingemann down the path that he and Clara had created the previous day. He easily found that face again, considering he only needed to follow the blood spatter back the way it came.

Ingemann knelt down and removed his gloves. He caressed the face in such a loving manner that Markey thought it a bit strange. Then again, the guy ran an isolated base with a dozen men and enjoyed it. He had to be strange man in the first place.

From his coat pocket, Ingemann pulled a digital camera and snapped a few photos. I'll need pictures to send with my report.

Scolding himself for not thinking of that yesterday, Markey got an uncomfortable feeling from Ingemann, as if the man did not have the best interests of science in mind. He decided to test that idea. I'd like to email some photos to my colleague at Brenton University. Her name is Lillian Mudge.

Thinking of Lillian always distracted Markey. He remembered the day they first met, during a faculty trip to a baseball game. He had enjoyed Lillian's company that day, and learned only later that within the field of anthropology, her name was among the biggest.

Ingemann quickly brought Markey out of his daydream. Out of the question.

That answer surprised him. Lillian could probably identify the date the man died just by looking at his face. From what he understood from her, this could be the best-preserved pre-historic man ever found.

He had to try again. Dr. Mudge is one of the foremost anthropologists in the world. I'm sure she could identify what we have, and with just one glance.

Ingemann placed his hand on Markey's back to guide him toward the sled. This fellow was found in Greenland, not California. The body will be investigated by Greenlandic scientists.

National pride? Markey didn't know Greenland had any Neanderthal experts, and he couldn't allow amateurs to spoil this find, even though it fell well outside his own field. Somehow, he needed to convince Ingemann to allow Lillian to see the body.

I don't think anybody wants to take the discovery away from you, Markey said, but Greenland has limited resources trained in this kind of thing. I've visited the university in Nuuk. I don't mean to offend the university, but there isn't much there.

Ingemann furled his eyebrows. Markey clearly hit a sore spot. He spoke in with a sharp tone. Søren Gunnarson is at University of Greenland.

Markey could feel the frustration starting to affect his blood pressure. Ingemann had more national pride than he knew what to do with. Unfortunately, his national pride could screw up a discovery with the same potential ramifications in anthroplogy as plate tectonics had in geophysics.

I met Søren Gunnarson several years ago. Markey tried to reach back in his memory to his conversations with the Greenlandic anthropologist. His specialty is Inuit cultures, if I recall. We spoke at length while our stays overlapped.

Ingemann seemed not to understand Markey's point.

Don't you see? Markey spread his gloved hands apart in almost a pleading gesture. Gunnarson might not know what to do with this body. Markey waved a hand at it. Dr. Mudge could identify the body from one photo, but only if somebody asks her.

Ingemann remained silent for an uncomfortable interval, then started toward the dogsled. I will consider it. Let's get that bear on the sled.

Markey happened to look to his left and wandered toward a dark spot on the other side of the bear.

Where you going? Ingemann asked.

Markey leaned over and picked up the dark object. He held it over his head so Ingemann could see. My glove from yesterday. He stuffed it into his pocket, then came back to help with the bear.

Chapter FOUR

Station Nord, Greenland

24 April, 2023

Upon returning to Station Nord, Markey found Clara in the common room, sitting on a bench and reading something off the pocket computer on the table in front of her. Markey pulled out the bench on the other side of the table and sat down with the cup of coffee he just poured from the bottomless urn kept by the soldiers.

Clara looked up as he pulled out the bench, then spun the computer around so Markey could see the screen. Traces all look good, considering the seismographs haven't been calibrated.

Markey reached out and picked up the computer. After scanning through the twelve different seismographs, he placed the computer back on the table and tried to take a sip of coffee. Still too hot.

Don't put much faith in uncalibrated signals. Markey looked up at the clock. He had been outside with Ingemann for nearly three hours. Ingemann and I left the dogs on the sled when we arrived. We'll go calibrate right after lunch. He looked up as he heard the large sheet of plywood being removed from the serving window. Looks like they're about to open the chow line.

Markey didn't wait for Clara to stand. He missed breakfast today, and wasted no time getting in line for lunch.

I'm glad I'm coming this time, Clara said. I'm getting tired of sitting inside.

Markey glanced unsympathetic at her as he grabbed a tray and some silverware. Clara did the same once he got out of the way. Thankfully, the chef had already begun lunch when they arrived. No time to prepare any bear meat for this meal. Unfortunate. He looked forward to watching Clara enjoy that experience.

Most of this trip will consist of sitting inside. Markey moved up to the window and placed his tray down to wait for the chef. Once the equipment is calibrated, there isn't much more to do but monitor the signals.

I hope we get to go see the penguins soon, Clara said with a completely serious tone.

Markey did not quite know how to respond. How could somebody that book-smart be so ignorant? He looked back at Clara, then looked away. Penguins? Umm. Penguins don't live in Greenland.

Clara laughed and poked Markey in the arm. Then, she just moved on to another topic, but Markey lost interest. He thought about getting a picture of the body to Lillian. Ingemann seemed on the fence the last time Markey saw him. He considered sneaking into Ingemann's office and copying the pictures to his pocket computer, but the fear of getting caught made a strong deterrent. The Dean would blow a gasket if Markey got kicked out of the National Park without bringing his equipment home. He'd never be invited back again, either. Markey just had to hope Ingemann saw things his way.

Lunch consisted of typical military-issue rations. Markey thought they tasted like cardboard, but Clara seemed not to mind. He couldn't figure her out.

We'll work backwards today, Markey said. He didn't want to say why. In reality, he wanted to photograph the body himself. He scolded himself for not doing that right away, though considering the bear attack, he supposed the omission could be overlooked.

Markey had just finished his last bite of food when Captain Ingemann came out of his office and sat next to Clara. He looked directly across the table into Markey's eyes. I have some good news and bad news.

Generally, Markey wanted the bad news first. Ingemann did not give him an option. He continued speaking without stopping for a breath.

Good new is, I have decided to let you email a photograph to your friend. Markey couldn't believe Ingemann's gratuitous turn-around, but didn't complain. Ingemann had more to say. If she leaks any of this, you'll never set foot here again. Is that clear?

Markey nodded, but didn't completely understand the need to keep it a secret. Why hide something that would put Greenland on the anthropologic map? He wondered what the bad news might be. He did not have to wait long.

Unfortunately, Ingemann said, Søren Gunnarson cannot be here for three days. Until he arrives, I am locking down the base.

Locking down the base? What did that mean? The seismographs still needed calibration. Markey must have worn a perplexed expression on his face, because Ingemann answered his unasked question.

It means that nobody leaves the premises until Gunnarson arrives.

Clara broke the silence. We can't be locked up here. We need to calibrate our equipment. Those three days will be wasted.

Ingemann looked at Clara with distain. Markey fought the urge to roll his eyes, the naivety of youth. He might have been able to sweet-talk Ingemann before she opened her mouth, but now, it really would be three wasted days. He just shook his head.

Ingemann stood. I'm sorry, Dr. Markey. This find is simply too important to risk anything happening to it. Ingemann marched back to his office and closed the door.

As soon as the door closed, Clara started on Markey. He can't do this.

Markey remained calm. Yes. He can.

But we'll waste three days. What should we do while we wait. She spun her pocket computer on the table, a nervous habit she picked up from another of Markey's students at Brenton.

I plan to read, Markey said. Ingemann might let you go outside to make a snowman.

Clara apparently did not like the insinuation of childishness. That snow won't pack. She spun her computer three more times before Markey put his hand down on top of it.

Please stop that.

Sorry.

Markey had to keep Clara occupied, or she would drive him insane. Why don't you assume the last calibration is still valid, and crunch some of the data we collected. We'll review it later.

Clara sighed, but did not argue. If he knew Clara, even analyzing invalid data would be preferable to doing nothing. It might even be useful in the event of a tremor. She picked up her pocket computer and walked away with a bitter look on her face.

Markey put his face in his hands. She was an excellent student, and a very intuitive geophysicist, if not a bit excitable. She came on this trip because Markey thought field work would do her some good. This difficulty didn't help matters. He'd rather go calibrate the equipment, too, but there were future trips to Station Nord to consider. Ingemann would not command this base forever, but he certainly could do enough to prevent Markey from ever coming back. He told himself if this trip didn't work out, he'd make it up to Clara back home. Somehow.

Not long after she left, Ingemann emerged from his office. He walked directly up to Markey and stood across the table from him. Markey indicated he should take a seat, but Ingemann ignored it.

Do you have a ping port? Ingemann asked.

Markey remembered the digital photos. He still needed to send one to Lillian. On my pocket computer. He unclipped it from his belt.

Ingemann handed Markey a ping drive. It's the only file.

Markey inserted the ping drive into his pocket computer and copied the photo. I'll mail this out tonight if I can get signal.

Ingemann nodded. Reykjavik has been up lately.

Markey smiled in acknowledgement. Getting emails out of Station Nord always presented a challenge. Sometimes the relay stations went down. The station in Reykjavik was especially difficult. All signals from Station Nord had to go through either Reykjavik or Nuuk, and the station and Nuuk had a far worse record of problems in recent years.

Fortunately, when the relay sites were up, it meant unlimited email using your own equipment. So long as you had a booster attached, any pocket computer could do it. Private email capability made working in the field a pleasure. Except the old hands would say it eliminated too much freedom from the job.

Still, he wanted to get the photo to Lillian as soon as possible.

Once Markey had unplugged the ping drive from his pocket computer, Ingemann snatched the drive from his hand and spun about to slink back into his office. When the door closed, Markey went back to his bunk to compose the message.

Lillian,

I stumbled over something you might be interested in. Please look at the attached photo and try to identify whether this is a modern human or something else.

Thanks,

Phil

He checked for signal from Reykjavik. It seemed a little weak, but better than the average of nothing. He pressed send and away the message went, along with photo. It took nearly twenty minutes to send the entire message due to signal dropouts, but it finally went through.

Markey smiled. Assuming she followed her usual routine, he should hear back from Lillian by morning. She generally checked email several times each day.

After sending the message, Markey went to bed. He did have a message from Lillian waiting for him when he woke up. He opened it then read the contents.

Phil,

Definitely looks Neanderthal. If that's true, it would be the greatest anthropologic find in all of history. I'm perplexed as to how he got to Greenland, though. The Neanderthals never went anywhere near that far east. I'm jealous of you being there. Let me know if I can answer any other questions.

Lillian

Markey