The tiny plane shuddered, and Jovian Faremont once more wondered why he'd been allowed to purchase a ticket on it in the first place. Sirius Air Flight 002, running from Terra Fuego, Argentina, to Port Sirius, Antarctica's hottest tourist destination, was a modest machine of metal and gumption.
To say Jovian, Jove to his friends, had been underwhelmed upon first seeing it would do a disservice to the way he'd felt when it rose to cruising altitude and the noises began—little sputters from the engine and odd creaks from the fuselage. His unease only deepened when the mysterious southern continent's endless white expanse came into view underneath him.
Why had he tricked himself into thinking this was a good idea?
He shivered, feeling the cold seep into the plane's cabin from all directions. He could have been warm and cozy back home, though "home" was a somewhat crappy apartment he was now two weeks behind on rent for.
His confidence in the trip had essentially peaked in that first moment when he'd replied to his mother's email, agreeing to the all-expenses-paid visit and family gathering. He couldn't even remember how many airports he'd been through on his way south across two continents, baggage checks and bathroom breaks and boring interludes between delayed flights all blurring together.
"You should have taken my advice in Argentina and bought one from the shop in the airport." An older woman with shockingly red lipstick who was one of the plane's three other passengers spoke over the din of the plane's ambient noise. "That jacket isn't going to be enough."
"It'll have to be," said Jove.
It wasn't as though he'd completely shrugged off her advice. He hadn't bought a better jacket because he was flat broke. And that unfortunate truth was the main reason Jove had agreed to visit his mother in the remote research facility where she spent nine months of the year.
He shivered and took another look out the plane's window as though his first glimpse of the unforgiving Antarctic might have been a mirage. What struck him most was how much of a natural spectacle the continent was.
He'd been expecting the ice, the snow, the glaciers in the distance. What he hadn't been expecting was the inherent sense of foreboding, the way every square inch of the terrain seemed to reinforce the notion that Antarctica was not a place that welcomed humans.
The plane dipped and circled, dropping lower into the panorama of white snow and blue ice. A couple of blotches stood out with grey concrete, sharp angles, and rising plumes of condensation. Port Sirius, his destination, was a cluster of expensively imported structures clinging to the shoreline with stark determination.
It looked less like a town and more like an oversized construction set plunked down in defiance of the elements. Three boxlike buildings stood with utilitarian stubbornness within the desolate landscape. Each was the size of a mall, but Jove only knew this from his own research. The entire development looked tiny against the backdrop of glaciers and endless snow.
It was far from a complicated or extensive settlement, but he assumed it was efficient to heat. The airstrip was a gash across the frozen ground, and the port was a dark sliver against the churning waves that only icebreaker ships could reach in most seasons.
Port Sirius lacked the organic warmth of a traditional settlement, radiating instead the cold efficiency of its purpose. It was a tourist trap, a billionaire funded proof of concept, an experiment hardly any different from the research lab his mother occupied deeper within the Antarctic interior.
The plane touched down with ease and softness that seemed to contradict its earlier airborne struggle. The flight attendant almost immediately began ushering them off once they'd rolled to a stop. It was only Jove and three other passengers whose purposes in the Antarctic he couldn't even begin to guess.
He did have a winter coat, but the hostile Antarctic air disrespected his outer layer to such a degree that he felt shirtless as he stepped off the exit stairs and onto the hard packed snow. It was like stepping onto an alien planet.
The cold wasn't just a temperature, it was an evil presence, seeping into his bones. His breath crystallized in a puff of white, dissipating into the dry air like it didn't belong there in the first place. He pulled his hood up and stuffed his hands into his pockets, backpack bouncing as he hurried forward.
A path through the snow had been cleared directly toward one of the three buildings. The automatic doors whooshed open for the passenger walking in front of him and they stepped into an area akin to an airlock, likely to better insulate the interior against temperature leakage. The warmth was a welcome change, immediately starting to thaw his frozen face.
Jove spotted his Aunt Aster almost immediately, standing by a baggage check counter that seemed far too large for the amount of traffic the airline likely supported. She perked up as he approached, smiling but also seeming uncertain.
His mother Kira, his sister Eve, and his aunt Aster all loved him in their own way, ranging from unconditional to judgmental depending on recent events. Jove hadn't seen any of them for… Jesus, it'd been a few years now. At least two since he'd seen his mother and Eve, significantly longer since he'd seen his Aunt Aster.
Aster. There was no mistaking her. Even amidst the utilitarian bustle of Port Sirius, she commanded attention with an easy air of elegance. Her tight sweater, a shocking shade of lavender, clung to her body in a way that casually showcased the curves of her full bust.
Snow boots with outrageously fluffy fur trim added a touch of practicality to the ensemble. A wide scarf hung from her neck, and her blonde hair fell in loose waves, glossy with faint highlights.
When she removed her mirrored sunglasses, the startling blue of her eyes was a punch of color against the muted tones of the outpost. Years of being filmed had honed her every gesture, and the way she tilted her head and flashed a dazzling smile was as much a performance as a familial welcome.
"Jove!" called Aster. "Are you just going to stand there or are you going to come over and give me a hug? You look fantastic, darling!"
He chuckled and swept her into an embrace. She was shorter than he was by half a head, which surprised him, somehow. He'd grown so used to hearing about Aster Hathaway — the former lead of Rose of Redding, seeing images of her on news articles, clips of her on YouTube — that he'd almost forgotten the real woman underneath.
"So do you," he said, still squeezing her. "Thanks for coming out to greet me."
He pulled back, but she kept hold of his hands, staring at him with eyes full of familial pride. She smelled of expensive perfume, the kind reminiscent of the sorts of flowers that only exist in dreams.
"You aren't starstruck, are you?" Aster smirked as she let go of his hands and struck a casual pose.
"Maybe a little," he said. "The last time I saw you was before you landed a leading role on HBO."
"Before I landed the role, but also before I was killed off from said role." Her tone was sharp, but she waved a hand, still smiling. "I must sound so bitter. Never mind that. I have other projects in the works."
Part of the reason why Aster had become so famous, so quickly, was because she'd been unceremoniously replaced in her first leading role for seemingly no reason right as her popularity was beginning to surge. Nature abhors a vacuum and so do tabloids, and speculation as to what had happened between her and the director had become a pastime for the internet masses over the past few months.
"I'm surprised you found the time to make this trip," said Jove.
"It's more like the time found me. I felt like I could use an escape from Los Angeles for a bit."
Aster let out a dramatic sigh and turned sideways. Jove's impression of the building looking like a mall from the outside was reinforced by the wide-open common space that seemingly formed the core of Port Sirius's interior.
"Have you talked to my mother yet?" he asked.
"She's waiting for us in Termina Station," said Aster. "You would have thought that she'd have the decency to come to greet us here, but it seems even now, her work takes priority."
He delicately ignored the bitterness in her tone. "I suppose we'll head out once Eve gets here, then?"
He winced as he thought about his sister. Aster certainly didn't have a monopoly on sibling animosity within the Faremont family.
"Eve's already here," said Aster. "We were waiting on you. Your mother has one of her research assistants queued up to guide us out to Termina as soon as you're ready. Though I should say, darling, I think you're going to need more of a jacket than that."
"You know, I'm starting to think so, too," he said.