Dog whistle

“Calm down, Buzz,” I snapped at my husky as I reached the top of the crater and shuffled past him. He barked and ran ahead of me, protesting furiously.

I bent down to scratch his chin. “It’s ok,” I said. But he persisted. I turned my head and squinted at the ship in the distance. “What the hell do you see that I don’t?”

The triangular vessel remained still and quiet, wedged nose first in the ice like a giant arrowhead.

I stood up, shaking my head. “C’mon,” I demanded, stepping around him. “We’re gonna open that thing.”