Cmdr. Harold Roberts: We'll find the wreck without your help.
Dr. Carl Hunter: Maybe you will if you aren't trampled to death first or eaten alive or die of starvation. Wait till the Antarctic night comes and for nine months the black air hangs round you like a rotten rag and your eyes are blinded from the dark and from your own sweat, and you lose each other - and you're alone - alone. Do you hear me? ...Always alone!