The 6th Extinction by James Rollins
His perpetual scowl deepened. “I watch movies.”
“This way, gents,” Barstow said, motioning for them to mount the stairs.
As they clomped their way up, knocking snow from their boots, a door opened above and a woman in an unzipped red parka stepped to the top landing to greet them. Her long brunette hair was combed back from her face and secured against the wind in an efficient but still feminine ponytail. Her physique was lithe and muscular, her cheeks wind-burned and tanned. Here was a woman who clearly refused to stay locked inside the station.
“Welcome to the bottom of the world,” she greeted them. “I’m Karen Von Der Bruegge.”
Gray climbed to her and shook her hand. “Thank you for accommodating us, Dr. Von Der Bruegge.”
“Karen is fine. We’re far from formal here.”
Gray had been briefed about this woman who served as both the station’s lead scientist and base commander. At only forty-two, she was already a well-regarded arctic biologist, trained in Cambridge. In the mission’s dossier, Gray had seen her photographs of polar bears in the far north. Now she was on the opposite side of the globe, studying colonies of emperor penguins that nested here.
“Come inside. We’ll get you settled.” She turned and led them through the hatch. “This is the command module, where you’ll find the boot room, communication station, surgery, and my office. But I think you’ll be more comfortable in our recreation area.”
Gray took a look around as she led them through her domain, noting the small surgical suite with a single operating theater. He paused at a door leading into the communication room.
“Dr. Von Der Bruegge . . . Karen, I’ve been trying to reach the States since we reached Rothera Station over on Adelaide, but I keep failing to get a substantial signal.”
Her brow crinkled. “Your sat phone . . . it must be using a geosynchronous connection.”
“That’s right.”
“Those work poorly when you cross seventy degrees south of the equator. Which pretty much means all of Antarctica. We use an LEO satellite system here. Low earth orbit.” She pointed to the room. “Feel free to make a call. We can give you some privacy. But I must warn you that we’re in the middle of a solar storm that’s been affecting our systems, too. Very bothersome, but it makes the aurora australis—our southern lights—quite spectacular.”
Gray stepped into the room. “Thank you.”
Karen turned to the others. “I’ll take you to our communal area. I’m guessing you could use some hot coffee and food right about now.”
“I never turn down a free meal,” Kowalski said, sounding less mournful.
As they exited through a hatch into one of the enclosed bridges between the modules, Gray closed the door to the communication room and stepped to the satellite phone. He dialed a secure number for Sigma command and listened to the tonal notes as a scrambled line was connected.
Kat answered immediately. “Did you reach Halley Station?” she asked, not wasting any time.
“Probably shook a few fillings out of my molars, but we’re here safe and sound. We still have to await the arrival of whomever Professor Harrington is sending here. Then maybe we’ll start getting some answers.”
“Hopefully that will happen soon. The news out of California has been growing grimmer over the past couple of hours. A storm front is moving into the area, with the threat of torrential rains and flash floods.”
Gray understood the danger. Any containment of that quarantine zone would be impossible.
As Kat continued, some of her words were lost amid pops of static and digital drops. “You should also know that Lisa’s brother is showing . . . signs of infection. He had a seizure twenty minutes ago. We’re still trying to determine if it’s secondary to his exposure or a surgical complication. Either way, we need to get . . . handle on this situation ASAP before all hell breaks loose.”
“How’s Lisa holding up?”
“She’s working around the clock. Driven to find some way of helping her brother. Still, it’s got Painter worried. The only good news is that we may have a possible lead on the saboteur of the base. We’re following up on that right now.”
“Good, and I’ll expedite what I can here. But we still have an hour until Professor Harrington’s contact is due to arrive to ferry us to his location.”
Wherever the hell that was.
Kat’s impatience rang through from a world away. “If only he wasn’t so damned paranoid . . .”
Gray appreciated her frustration, but he was nagged by another worry: What if Harrington had a good reason to be paranoid?
3:32 P.M.
Back home again . . .
With the sun close to setting, Jason took advantage of the view. He sat at a table before a two-story bank of triple-glazed windows that looked out across the ice field to the expanse of the Weddell Sea. Massive ships of ice dotted those dark blue waters, sculpted by wind and waves into ethereal shapes that towered high into crests, arches, and jagged blue-white sails.
He had joined Sigma to do good, to keep the nation safe, but he had also hoped to see more of the world. Instead, he spent most of his time buried underground at Sigma command, and now on his first real field assignment . . .
I get sent home.
He had spent part of his childhood in Antarctica, with his mother and stepfather, who still worked near McMurdo Station on the other side of the continent.
Now I’ve come back full circle.
He sipped dourly from a cup of hot tea, listening to the chatter from the handful of base personnel who shared the recreation area. The red module was broken into two levels. The lower half contained the dining facilities, while a corkscrew staircase led up to a loft that held a small library, a bank of computers, and a conference area. There was even a rock-climbing wall that ran between the two floors.
Directly behind him, a trio of men played pool, speaking in what sounded like Norwegian. Though the site was a UK station, it drew an international group of researchers. According to Dr. Von Der Bruegge, the place normally housed fifty to sixty scientists, but they were downsizing of late as the dark winter months approached. Their numbers had dwindled to twenty, and only a dozen or so people would remain through what would eventually be perpetual night.
Due to this transitional period, the base hummed with activity—both inside and out. Beyond the windows, a pair of Sno-Cats dragged pallets of crates away from the station. But the most amazing sight was of the green John Deere tractor slowly hauling one of the unattached blue modules across the ice. It vanished ghostly into the fog that stuck close to the shelf, defying the higher winds as sunset approached.
The commander had said that over the next week—working 24/7—the station would be disassembled and dragged piecemeal inland, where it would be reassembled for the winter months.
In the sky, another Twin Otter flew low along the edge of the ice shelf, catching the last rays of the sun and looking as if it were coming in for a landing for the night. Rather than the cherry red of the British Antarctic Survey squadron, this one was painted chalk white. It was an unusual paint job for an arctic region, where bright primary colors were preferred in order to better stand out against the ice and snow.
Maybe it’s Professor Harrington’s contact.
Jason half stood, ready to alert Gray. Across the way, Kowalski was at the buffet, piling up a second plate of food, mostly slices of pie from the looks of it.
Then the plane tilted higher, turning away from the plowed airstrip. It looked to be leaving again. It must not be their contact after all, maybe a sightseer. Either way, it was a false alarm
Jason settled back to his chair.
He watched the plane bank on a wingtip. A door opened along its side. He spotted movement within—followed by the suspicious protrusion of a pair of long black tubes.
Fire spat from their ends, trailing smoke.
Rocket launchers.
The first blasts destroyed the lone Twin Otter on the ice. Then the pla
ne swept toward the station.
Jason felt his arm grabbed.
Kowalski yanked him out of his chair. “Time to go, kid.”
3:49 P.M.
Gray ran low down the elevated bridge that connected the command module to the recreation pod. The blasts still echoed in his head. He had just stepped into the enclosed span after finishing his call with Kat—when the first rockets exploded. Through the windows along the bridge, he watched the ruins of the Twin Otter burn.
Ahead, another figure rose from a crouched position in the passageway.
Gray ran up to her. “Karen, are you okay?”
The base commander looked dazed, momentarily stunned. Then her blue eyes focused, going angry rather than scared.
“What the bloody hell?” she blurted out.
“We’re under attack.”
She made to push past him. “We must get out a mayday.”
Gray caught her around the midsection, stopping her. He heard the timbre of the aircraft’s engines growing louder. He dragged her toward the recreation module.
“No time,” he warned.
“But—”
“Trust me.”
Gray didn’t have time to explain, so he rushed her to the end of the bridge, half carrying her. As he reached the far door, it opened before him. Kowalski appeared, filling the threshold. It looked like he had Jason equally in hand.
“Back inside!” Gray yelled.
As Kowalski moved out of the way, Gray charged through and shoved Karen toward his partners. He slammed the door behind him—just as another pair of explosions shook the entire module. Glassware fell from shelves in the dining area, and several of the triangular panes of window cracked into splinters from the concussion.
Gray stared out the porthole window in the door. The far end of the connecting bridge had been blasted away. A crater also smoked in the flank of the command module.
Right where the communication room was located.
Karen had rejoined him, looking over his shoulder.
“They’re isolating us,” Gray explained. “First they took out the plane, eliminating the only way off the ice. Then when I heard the plane coming this way, I knew they would target communications next, to further cut us off from the outside world.”
“Who are they?”
Gray pictured the team that had assaulted DARPA headquarters. The Twin Otter in the sky had been white, a common color for arctic combat operations. He imagined a ground assault was imminent.
“Do you have any weapons?” Gray asked.
Karen turned the opposite direction. “In the caboose. The last module of the station. But we don’t have many.”
He’d take too few versus none.
By now, others had gathered around, including Barstow, along with a handful of frightened-looking researchers.
“How many others are inside the station?” Gray asked, leading them across the dining hall.
Karen surveyed those with them, clearly doing a head count. “This time of year, no more than another five or six, not counting the work crew already outside.”
Gray reached the far side and hauled open the door to the next bridge. “Keep moving! Module by module! All the way to the rear!” He waved everyone through, then ran alongside Karen. “Does the station have an intercom system, a way of dispatching a general alarm?”
She nodded. “Of course. It’ll also radio to anyone out on the ice.”
“Good. Then once we reach the last module, order an evacuation.”
She glanced at him with concern. “With the sun down, the temps outside will drop precipitously.”
“We have no other choice.”
It had grown quiet outside. No further blasts. He pictured the Twin Otter circling to land. He had no doubt an assault team would be offloaded soon. Without any means of communication, they were unable to request help, while the attackers would have all night to search the station or merely set charges and blow each module to hell.
As Gray formulated a plan, his retreating group burst into the next module. It was the station’s living quarters, made up of a series of small bedrooms painted in bright colors. They collected another station member there: a small panicked-looking young man wearing glasses. They continued onward, passing through two more research modules. Both had been packed up and closed down for the winter.
Finally they reached the last car of this icy train. It was clearly a storage space.
“Where are the weapons?” Gray asked.
“Near the back door,” Karen said and tossed a set of keys to Barstow. “Show them.”
While he obeyed, Karen stepped over to an intercom on the wall, quickly tapping in a code. Gray followed Barstow as Karen sounded a general alert, warning any other station members inside to evacuate. To those outside, she instructed them to stay away.
Barstow led them to a locker on the back wall and used Karen’s key to open the double doors. Gray stared at the rows of rifles and handguns, trying not to show his disappointment at the meager number of weapons, but then again, what sort of threat would this base normally face? There were no land-based predators out here, nothing but penguins and some seals. The few rifles and guns were likely meant to deal with any unruly guests of the station—not a full-on assault.
Gray passed around the six Glock 17 pistols and shouldered one of the three assault rifles. It was an L86A2 Light Support Weapon. He passed another to Kowalski and the last to Barstow. To the side, Jason loaded his Glock with experienced skill.
Gray stepped to the window in the last door. Outside, night had fallen on this short day, dropping a blanket of darkness over them. Beyond the hatch, a small platform led to a ladder that descended down to the ice.
“Kowalski and Barstow, once we’re on the ground, we’ll try to discourage the plane from landing. Failing that, we’ll move to a defensible position.” Gray turned to Jason. “You lead the others away. Put as much distance between here and the station as you can.”
The kid nodded. His eyes looked alert, frosted by a healthy fear, but ready to move.
Karen returned, bearing an armload of handheld radios. “Grabbed these, too.”
Gray nodded at her resourcefulness, then took one and pushed it into his parka’s pocket. “Pass the others around.”
Once they were ready, Gray took the lead. He hauled open the hatch to the dark, frigid night. As the first blast of cold hit his face, he suddenly doubted the wisdom of his plan. Death was as certain out on the ice as it was inside the station. They would need to find shelter and fast—somewhere other than here.
But where?
Another blast erupted, shaking the station. The lights flickered once, then died.
Karen spoke behind him. “Must’ve taken out the generators.”
Gray frowned. Had the enemy eavesdropped on Karen’s alert? Had it triggered this new attack? Or was this the assault team’s final salvo to soften and unnerve their targets before landing?
The continuing drone of the Twin Otter reminded him that any further reservations or hesitation would only worsen their odds. Knowing this, he hurried into the cold, pulling on his gloves, and mounted the ladder. He slid most of the way down and waved for the others to follow.
With the butt of his weapon at his shoulder, he used the scope to track the lights of the Twin Otter in the evening sky. It banked on the far side of the station. Then a flash flared from its hull. Another explosion echoed across the ice. A small island of light went dark out there.
“I think that was one of our Sno-Cats,” Karen said, her voice strained with guilt. “I should’ve warned them to go dark.”
Gray noted another Sno-Cat parked on the ice to the right of the station, along with a trio of Ski-Doos. “Can you get those snow machines started fast enough? If you keep the lights off, you’ll be able to cover more ground than on foot.”
She nodded.
“What if the enemy has night-vision?” Jason asked, joining them.
“If they do, they’l
l spot us just as easily on foot.” Gray pointed to the thick banks of fog settling to the icy shelf all around the station. “Once you’re moving, make for that cover as quickly as you can. It’s your best chance.”
Jason eyed that refuge doubtfully.
In a hope to better their odds, Gray turned to Kowalski and Barstow. “We’ll buy the others as much time as possible.” He motioned to the opposite side of the station from the parked snow machines. “If we fire from over there, we can keep the enemy’s attention on us.”
Kowalski shrugged. “I guess it’s better than freezing our asses off.”
Barstow also nodded.
With a plan in place, Gray ordered the two groups to split up.
Jason glanced over a shoulder as he led his party off. “One of the Ski-Doos is a three-seater.” He eyed Gray’s team. “I’ll leave it with the engine running. Just in case.”
Gray acknowledged this with a nod, impressed with the kid’s quick thinking.
With the matter settled, Gray led Kowalski and Barstow under the caboose of the station. He heard the snow engines grumble to life on the other side—at first cold and choking, then with more throaty power.
Gray watched the group slowly depart, disappearing into the fog, one after the other.
Satisfied, Gray stepped out from under the shelter of the station, weapon at his shoulder. He followed the Twin Otter in the sky as it turned and swung in his direction, seeming to climb higher as if sensing the hidden snipers below.
Its strange actions worried Gray. Suspicions jangled up his spine.
Why hadn’t it made any effort to land yet?
The plane continued a slow circle, like a hawk above a field. So far, the assault seemed targeted to isolate the base, to keep its occupants pinned down.
But to what end? What are they waiting for?
The answer came a heartbeat later.
A massive explosion—a hundredfold stronger than any of the prior rocket blasts—shook the world. At the far end of the station, a geyser of ice and fire blew high into the night. Then another detonation erupted, much closer, followed by yet another.
Gray and the others were knocked to their knees. He pictured a row of munitions buried deep in the ice. The line of charges must have been planted long ago.
“This way, gents,” Barstow said, motioning for them to mount the stairs.
As they clomped their way up, knocking snow from their boots, a door opened above and a woman in an unzipped red parka stepped to the top landing to greet them. Her long brunette hair was combed back from her face and secured against the wind in an efficient but still feminine ponytail. Her physique was lithe and muscular, her cheeks wind-burned and tanned. Here was a woman who clearly refused to stay locked inside the station.
“Welcome to the bottom of the world,” she greeted them. “I’m Karen Von Der Bruegge.”
Gray climbed to her and shook her hand. “Thank you for accommodating us, Dr. Von Der Bruegge.”
“Karen is fine. We’re far from formal here.”
Gray had been briefed about this woman who served as both the station’s lead scientist and base commander. At only forty-two, she was already a well-regarded arctic biologist, trained in Cambridge. In the mission’s dossier, Gray had seen her photographs of polar bears in the far north. Now she was on the opposite side of the globe, studying colonies of emperor penguins that nested here.
“Come inside. We’ll get you settled.” She turned and led them through the hatch. “This is the command module, where you’ll find the boot room, communication station, surgery, and my office. But I think you’ll be more comfortable in our recreation area.”
Gray took a look around as she led them through her domain, noting the small surgical suite with a single operating theater. He paused at a door leading into the communication room.
“Dr. Von Der Bruegge . . . Karen, I’ve been trying to reach the States since we reached Rothera Station over on Adelaide, but I keep failing to get a substantial signal.”
Her brow crinkled. “Your sat phone . . . it must be using a geosynchronous connection.”
“That’s right.”
“Those work poorly when you cross seventy degrees south of the equator. Which pretty much means all of Antarctica. We use an LEO satellite system here. Low earth orbit.” She pointed to the room. “Feel free to make a call. We can give you some privacy. But I must warn you that we’re in the middle of a solar storm that’s been affecting our systems, too. Very bothersome, but it makes the aurora australis—our southern lights—quite spectacular.”
Gray stepped into the room. “Thank you.”
Karen turned to the others. “I’ll take you to our communal area. I’m guessing you could use some hot coffee and food right about now.”
“I never turn down a free meal,” Kowalski said, sounding less mournful.
As they exited through a hatch into one of the enclosed bridges between the modules, Gray closed the door to the communication room and stepped to the satellite phone. He dialed a secure number for Sigma command and listened to the tonal notes as a scrambled line was connected.
Kat answered immediately. “Did you reach Halley Station?” she asked, not wasting any time.
“Probably shook a few fillings out of my molars, but we’re here safe and sound. We still have to await the arrival of whomever Professor Harrington is sending here. Then maybe we’ll start getting some answers.”
“Hopefully that will happen soon. The news out of California has been growing grimmer over the past couple of hours. A storm front is moving into the area, with the threat of torrential rains and flash floods.”
Gray understood the danger. Any containment of that quarantine zone would be impossible.
As Kat continued, some of her words were lost amid pops of static and digital drops. “You should also know that Lisa’s brother is showing . . . signs of infection. He had a seizure twenty minutes ago. We’re still trying to determine if it’s secondary to his exposure or a surgical complication. Either way, we need to get . . . handle on this situation ASAP before all hell breaks loose.”
“How’s Lisa holding up?”
“She’s working around the clock. Driven to find some way of helping her brother. Still, it’s got Painter worried. The only good news is that we may have a possible lead on the saboteur of the base. We’re following up on that right now.”
“Good, and I’ll expedite what I can here. But we still have an hour until Professor Harrington’s contact is due to arrive to ferry us to his location.”
Wherever the hell that was.
Kat’s impatience rang through from a world away. “If only he wasn’t so damned paranoid . . .”
Gray appreciated her frustration, but he was nagged by another worry: What if Harrington had a good reason to be paranoid?
3:32 P.M.
Back home again . . .
With the sun close to setting, Jason took advantage of the view. He sat at a table before a two-story bank of triple-glazed windows that looked out across the ice field to the expanse of the Weddell Sea. Massive ships of ice dotted those dark blue waters, sculpted by wind and waves into ethereal shapes that towered high into crests, arches, and jagged blue-white sails.
He had joined Sigma to do good, to keep the nation safe, but he had also hoped to see more of the world. Instead, he spent most of his time buried underground at Sigma command, and now on his first real field assignment . . .
I get sent home.
He had spent part of his childhood in Antarctica, with his mother and stepfather, who still worked near McMurdo Station on the other side of the continent.
Now I’ve come back full circle.
He sipped dourly from a cup of hot tea, listening to the chatter from the handful of base personnel who shared the recreation area. The red module was broken into two levels. The lower half contained the dining facilities, while a corkscrew staircase led up to a loft that held a small library, a bank of computers, and a conference area. There was even a rock-climbing wall that ran between the two floors.
Directly behind him, a trio of men played pool, speaking in what sounded like Norwegian. Though the site was a UK station, it drew an international group of researchers. According to Dr. Von Der Bruegge, the place normally housed fifty to sixty scientists, but they were downsizing of late as the dark winter months approached. Their numbers had dwindled to twenty, and only a dozen or so people would remain through what would eventually be perpetual night.
Due to this transitional period, the base hummed with activity—both inside and out. Beyond the windows, a pair of Sno-Cats dragged pallets of crates away from the station. But the most amazing sight was of the green John Deere tractor slowly hauling one of the unattached blue modules across the ice. It vanished ghostly into the fog that stuck close to the shelf, defying the higher winds as sunset approached.
The commander had said that over the next week—working 24/7—the station would be disassembled and dragged piecemeal inland, where it would be reassembled for the winter months.
In the sky, another Twin Otter flew low along the edge of the ice shelf, catching the last rays of the sun and looking as if it were coming in for a landing for the night. Rather than the cherry red of the British Antarctic Survey squadron, this one was painted chalk white. It was an unusual paint job for an arctic region, where bright primary colors were preferred in order to better stand out against the ice and snow.
Maybe it’s Professor Harrington’s contact.
Jason half stood, ready to alert Gray. Across the way, Kowalski was at the buffet, piling up a second plate of food, mostly slices of pie from the looks of it.
Then the plane tilted higher, turning away from the plowed airstrip. It looked to be leaving again. It must not be their contact after all, maybe a sightseer. Either way, it was a false alarm
Jason settled back to his chair.
He watched the plane bank on a wingtip. A door opened along its side. He spotted movement within—followed by the suspicious protrusion of a pair of long black tubes.
Fire spat from their ends, trailing smoke.
Rocket launchers.
The first blasts destroyed the lone Twin Otter on the ice. Then the pla
Jason felt his arm grabbed.
Kowalski yanked him out of his chair. “Time to go, kid.”
3:49 P.M.
Gray ran low down the elevated bridge that connected the command module to the recreation pod. The blasts still echoed in his head. He had just stepped into the enclosed span after finishing his call with Kat—when the first rockets exploded. Through the windows along the bridge, he watched the ruins of the Twin Otter burn.
Ahead, another figure rose from a crouched position in the passageway.
Gray ran up to her. “Karen, are you okay?”
The base commander looked dazed, momentarily stunned. Then her blue eyes focused, going angry rather than scared.
“What the bloody hell?” she blurted out.
“We’re under attack.”
She made to push past him. “We must get out a mayday.”
Gray caught her around the midsection, stopping her. He heard the timbre of the aircraft’s engines growing louder. He dragged her toward the recreation module.
“No time,” he warned.
“But—”
“Trust me.”
Gray didn’t have time to explain, so he rushed her to the end of the bridge, half carrying her. As he reached the far door, it opened before him. Kowalski appeared, filling the threshold. It looked like he had Jason equally in hand.
“Back inside!” Gray yelled.
As Kowalski moved out of the way, Gray charged through and shoved Karen toward his partners. He slammed the door behind him—just as another pair of explosions shook the entire module. Glassware fell from shelves in the dining area, and several of the triangular panes of window cracked into splinters from the concussion.
Gray stared out the porthole window in the door. The far end of the connecting bridge had been blasted away. A crater also smoked in the flank of the command module.
Right where the communication room was located.
Karen had rejoined him, looking over his shoulder.
“They’re isolating us,” Gray explained. “First they took out the plane, eliminating the only way off the ice. Then when I heard the plane coming this way, I knew they would target communications next, to further cut us off from the outside world.”
“Who are they?”
Gray pictured the team that had assaulted DARPA headquarters. The Twin Otter in the sky had been white, a common color for arctic combat operations. He imagined a ground assault was imminent.
“Do you have any weapons?” Gray asked.
Karen turned the opposite direction. “In the caboose. The last module of the station. But we don’t have many.”
He’d take too few versus none.
By now, others had gathered around, including Barstow, along with a handful of frightened-looking researchers.
“How many others are inside the station?” Gray asked, leading them across the dining hall.
Karen surveyed those with them, clearly doing a head count. “This time of year, no more than another five or six, not counting the work crew already outside.”
Gray reached the far side and hauled open the door to the next bridge. “Keep moving! Module by module! All the way to the rear!” He waved everyone through, then ran alongside Karen. “Does the station have an intercom system, a way of dispatching a general alarm?”
She nodded. “Of course. It’ll also radio to anyone out on the ice.”
“Good. Then once we reach the last module, order an evacuation.”
She glanced at him with concern. “With the sun down, the temps outside will drop precipitously.”
“We have no other choice.”
It had grown quiet outside. No further blasts. He pictured the Twin Otter circling to land. He had no doubt an assault team would be offloaded soon. Without any means of communication, they were unable to request help, while the attackers would have all night to search the station or merely set charges and blow each module to hell.
As Gray formulated a plan, his retreating group burst into the next module. It was the station’s living quarters, made up of a series of small bedrooms painted in bright colors. They collected another station member there: a small panicked-looking young man wearing glasses. They continued onward, passing through two more research modules. Both had been packed up and closed down for the winter.
Finally they reached the last car of this icy train. It was clearly a storage space.
“Where are the weapons?” Gray asked.
“Near the back door,” Karen said and tossed a set of keys to Barstow. “Show them.”
While he obeyed, Karen stepped over to an intercom on the wall, quickly tapping in a code. Gray followed Barstow as Karen sounded a general alert, warning any other station members inside to evacuate. To those outside, she instructed them to stay away.
Barstow led them to a locker on the back wall and used Karen’s key to open the double doors. Gray stared at the rows of rifles and handguns, trying not to show his disappointment at the meager number of weapons, but then again, what sort of threat would this base normally face? There were no land-based predators out here, nothing but penguins and some seals. The few rifles and guns were likely meant to deal with any unruly guests of the station—not a full-on assault.
Gray passed around the six Glock 17 pistols and shouldered one of the three assault rifles. It was an L86A2 Light Support Weapon. He passed another to Kowalski and the last to Barstow. To the side, Jason loaded his Glock with experienced skill.
Gray stepped to the window in the last door. Outside, night had fallen on this short day, dropping a blanket of darkness over them. Beyond the hatch, a small platform led to a ladder that descended down to the ice.
“Kowalski and Barstow, once we’re on the ground, we’ll try to discourage the plane from landing. Failing that, we’ll move to a defensible position.” Gray turned to Jason. “You lead the others away. Put as much distance between here and the station as you can.”
The kid nodded. His eyes looked alert, frosted by a healthy fear, but ready to move.
Karen returned, bearing an armload of handheld radios. “Grabbed these, too.”
Gray nodded at her resourcefulness, then took one and pushed it into his parka’s pocket. “Pass the others around.”
Once they were ready, Gray took the lead. He hauled open the hatch to the dark, frigid night. As the first blast of cold hit his face, he suddenly doubted the wisdom of his plan. Death was as certain out on the ice as it was inside the station. They would need to find shelter and fast—somewhere other than here.
But where?
Another blast erupted, shaking the station. The lights flickered once, then died.
Karen spoke behind him. “Must’ve taken out the generators.”
Gray frowned. Had the enemy eavesdropped on Karen’s alert? Had it triggered this new attack? Or was this the assault team’s final salvo to soften and unnerve their targets before landing?
The continuing drone of the Twin Otter reminded him that any further reservations or hesitation would only worsen their odds. Knowing this, he hurried into the cold, pulling on his gloves, and mounted the ladder. He slid most of the way down and waved for the others to follow.
With the butt of his weapon at his shoulder, he used the scope to track the lights of the Twin Otter in the evening sky. It banked on the far side of the station. Then a flash flared from its hull. Another explosion echoed across the ice. A small island of light went dark out there.
“I think that was one of our Sno-Cats,” Karen said, her voice strained with guilt. “I should’ve warned them to go dark.”
Gray noted another Sno-Cat parked on the ice to the right of the station, along with a trio of Ski-Doos. “Can you get those snow machines started fast enough? If you keep the lights off, you’ll be able to cover more ground than on foot.”
She nodded.
“What if the enemy has night-vision?” Jason asked, joining them.
“If they do, they’l
Jason eyed that refuge doubtfully.
In a hope to better their odds, Gray turned to Kowalski and Barstow. “We’ll buy the others as much time as possible.” He motioned to the opposite side of the station from the parked snow machines. “If we fire from over there, we can keep the enemy’s attention on us.”
Kowalski shrugged. “I guess it’s better than freezing our asses off.”
Barstow also nodded.
With a plan in place, Gray ordered the two groups to split up.
Jason glanced over a shoulder as he led his party off. “One of the Ski-Doos is a three-seater.” He eyed Gray’s team. “I’ll leave it with the engine running. Just in case.”
Gray acknowledged this with a nod, impressed with the kid’s quick thinking.
With the matter settled, Gray led Kowalski and Barstow under the caboose of the station. He heard the snow engines grumble to life on the other side—at first cold and choking, then with more throaty power.
Gray watched the group slowly depart, disappearing into the fog, one after the other.
Satisfied, Gray stepped out from under the shelter of the station, weapon at his shoulder. He followed the Twin Otter in the sky as it turned and swung in his direction, seeming to climb higher as if sensing the hidden snipers below.
Its strange actions worried Gray. Suspicions jangled up his spine.
Why hadn’t it made any effort to land yet?
The plane continued a slow circle, like a hawk above a field. So far, the assault seemed targeted to isolate the base, to keep its occupants pinned down.
But to what end? What are they waiting for?
The answer came a heartbeat later.
A massive explosion—a hundredfold stronger than any of the prior rocket blasts—shook the world. At the far end of the station, a geyser of ice and fire blew high into the night. Then another detonation erupted, much closer, followed by yet another.
Gray and the others were knocked to their knees. He pictured a row of munitions buried deep in the ice. The line of charges must have been planted long ago.