The woman was Asian, perhaps in her midthirties. She was lying on a rubber mat, wearing a neoprene black bodysuit and matching boots. Her face was serene, despite remaining fully exposed to the harsh elements; her waist-length tangle of hair whipped behind her like a dark brown flag. Her eyes were closed. She was not fighting the elements; as corny as it sounds, she appeared to be at one with them.

Most bizarre—a swirl of steam was rising from her body, the self-generated heat dispersed by the howling wind.

Unsure whether to leave or awaken her, I simply stared.

As I watched, her serenity bled into a dazed expression. The almond eyes snapped open, only to be blinded by the icy gusts. Whatever had been fueling her internal furnace appeared to have shut down, for she suddenly looked naked against the elements, her mind drowning in hypothermia.

Quickly unzipping my parka, I guided it over the woman’s frail upper torso. Forcing the hood over her head, I scooped her up in the coat and carried her to the trailer, exposing myself to a cold that threatened to paralyze my stiffening muscles.

The trailer door swung open and my uncle dragged us inside.

I laid the snow ninja down on a wool couch, her inert 120-pound form folding like a stringless puppet. She was shaking, her lips blue.

Lara covered her with a heated blanket while my uncle grabbed a walkie-talkie from a battery charger. “This is General Schall. We have a member of the crew in the command trailer, suffering from exposure. We are in need of medical assistance.”

Bruemmer scoffed. “Don’t fuss over her, General, she does this all the time. Crazy Buddhists, thinking they can defy the laws of thermodynamics.”

I sandwiched the woman’s near-frostbitten fingers in my hands, attempting to restore circulation. “Lara, who is she?”

“Her name’s Dharma Yuan. GOLEM assigned her to Oceanus as the team psychotherapist.”

“A waste of food and supplies, if you ask me.” Bruemmer fixed himself a cup of cocoa, heating it in the microwave. “Why the hell do we need a psychotherapist anyway?”

Lara glared at the older man. “Six years away from Earth, stuck inside a ten-thousand-square-foot habitat with eleven other people? I may need a psychotherapist just to keep from killing you.” Pushing past the grouchy scientist, she took the steaming cup from him, then pressed it to the Chinese-Indian woman’s lips. “Dharma, sip this, it’ll warm you.”

General Schall finished speaking to someone on the radio. “They’re sending a truck to take the four of you to Oceanus. Dharma will be treated on board.”

“You’re not coming?”

“No, Robbie. Oceanus’s engines are fueled and the countdown to immersion has already begun. I’ll remain at McMurdo until tomorrow, then I’m off to Australia for six weeks until you resurface.”

“Broads and beaches, huh?”