“I’ve read your files, but why don’t you take a couple of minutes to introduce yourselves,” suggested Mitchell.
“I’ll start,” said Maria. “Before joining Polaris, I was a major in the U.S. Air Force. My last duty assignment was working in Space Command. I oversaw the surveillance of foreign satellites. While I was there, I wrote several papers for the Air Force on the history of the Soviet Luna program. I was working on my Ph.D. when General O’Reilly called me and asked me to join his organization.”
“What do you do at Polaris?” asked Jen. “I don’t ever recall seeing you around.”
“That’s because I’m not really there right now. I’m busy finishing my doctoral thesis on the history of the Soviet Space program.”
“Well, I’m glad you could come along to help us out,” said Mitchell earnestly. “I couldn’t tell you what a 1960s Soviet lunar probe looked like if one walked by.”
“Since General O’Reilly is picking up the tab for my education, and I may actually get to see a Soviet return vehicle up close, I couldn’t really say no.”
“Without sounding too harsh,” said Jackson, “how does a doctorate on the Soviet space program benefit Polaris?”
“I wondered the same myself when I was asked to come onboard,” replied Maria. “Unlike yourselves, I’m not and never will be an operator. When I finish my doctorate, I’m taking over from Margaret Young as the Chief Administrator for Polaris. She’s going to retire next year, and I’m going to replace her. My only condition to leaving the Air Force was that I first be allowed to complete my doctorate.”
Mitchell grinned and then said, “Well, Maria, when you take over the organization’s finances, please don’t scrutinize my team’s finances too closely. I’m not sure everything we do is legit.”
“Don’t worry,” replied Maria. “I’ve already been warned off by General O’Reilly to be creative with the books when it comes to you and your people.”
“And what’s your story, Eric?” said Mitchell.
“There’s really not a lot to tell. I was a Navy SEAL with tours in both Iraq and Afghanistan. I’m brand-spanking new to Polaris. I only joined the organization last month. I’ve been assigned to Bill Lancaster’s team, but as they’re out on assignment in Tunisia, I’ve been busy acclimating myself to life outside of the military. It’s a real culture shock coming from a life of twenty-four-seven to regular working hours and getting time off when you ask for it.”
“It can take some getting used to,” said Jackson. “For a full year, I kept wondering if I made the right choice. Don’t worry; you’ll soon adjust, and you’ll find that working in Polaris is a lot like being back in the military, less all the stupid chickenshit. Besides, there’s always the ex-officer or two that needs looking after.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” said Mitchell with a mock look of pain on his face.
“Just calling it as I see it.” Jackson winked at Mitchell and then reached for the carafe of coffee to fill his cup.
Mitchell shook his head. “Bill Lancaster is a top-notch leader. He’s ex-airborne with a ton of practical experience. You’re lucky to be assigned to his team right out of the military.”
“Yeah, that’s what I was told,” replied McMasters.
Maria looked over at McMasters and smiled. “I understand why I’m here, but aside from being easy on the eyes, what do you bring to the team to help find the missing probe?”
“That’s simple,” replied McMasters. “I grew up in northern Alaska. For fun in the winter, I used to climb frozen waterfalls; the higher, the better! Crawling about on a glacier in the middle of nowhere will be like going home to me.”
“A Navy SEAL who likes climbing on ice,” said Jackson, shaking his head. “Do they come any dumber?”
Before McMasters could retort, Mitchell raised his hand and asked Jen to hand out the information packages that she had brought with her before the waiter returned with their food.
Jen reached into the brown leather briefcase by her side, dug out four manila folders, and handed them around.
“There really isn’t a lot of information on the Web about Bouvet Island,” said Jen. “It has an area of forty-nine square kilometers, ninety percent of which is covered by a glacier. There’s a very small research station on the island which is currently manned by a team of four Norwegian scientists studying climate change.”
“Where is the station?” asked Jackson.
“On the north-west corner of the island,” replied Jen. “There’s a picture of it in your folders. Also, you will find a map of the island and several satellite images of what could be wreckage under the ice from the space probe when it landed on the island back in 1969.”
“Awfully lonely-looking place,” said Maria as she examined the pictures in her folder.
“There are over one hundred thousand penguins and at least seventy thousand fur seals that call the island home,” said Jen.
“Since it’s December, what’s the weather going to be like on the island?” asked Jackson.
“Well, south of the equator, as I’m sure you all know, it’s summer down here,” said Jen. “The island is currently covered with clouds, and that’s not likely to change for some time. The temperature is quite balmy for the region. It’s hovering between a daytime high of thirty degrees Fahrenheit to a nighttime low of twenty-five.”
“We could sleep under the stars in that kind of weather,” said McMasters.
“Speak for yourself,” said Maria with a look of disgust on her face. “I’m not in the military anymore, so any creature comforts I can take with me, such as a tent, I intend to.”
Mitchell continued. “Since I expect us to be on the glacier for several days, I can assure you, Maria, that tents and all the usual trappings will be coming along with us.”
“How long do you think it will take for us to get there?” asked Maria.
“I spoke with the ship’s captain yesterday and barring any bad weather, we should arrive ten days after we set sail,” replied Mitchell.
“As long as there’s plenty of food on board for me to eat, I’ll be okay,” said Jackson as their breakfast arrived. When Jackson added that it could be their last good meal for quite some time, everyone at the table heartily dug in.
With a smile, Jen looked over at Mitchell. For the first time since they met, he was heading off on a long mission, which didn’t entail much risk at all. It was a welcome relief. She was planning to take the next flight back home to the States. From Polaris, she would work with Fahimah to provide Mitchell’s team with whatever information they had via satellite. She thought that it would all be over in a month, and then they could go on a late-Christmas holiday somewhere nice, warm, and relaxing.
10
Bouvet Island
South Atlantic
The Southern Star dropped her anchor in the dark waters off Bouvet Island. The journey to the island had gone smoothly, arriving just after dark on the ninth day of their voyage. As expected, the island was hidden behind an impenetrable wall of fog.
Built as an Antarctic cruise ship, the Southern Star measured ninety meters in length with a beam of seventeen meters. Her hull was reinforced to protect it from the pack ice. It had a crew of forty and could comfortably host eighty passengers. Its clientele these days was mostly retirees that longed to see the pristine shores and myriad animals that lived on the world’s southernmost continent. On this trip, however, there were only four passengers.
Mitchell stood on the bridge and studied the image on the ship’s radar screen. The island appeared truly inhospitable. Tall cliffs climbed out of the ocean and reached up into the night sky. If the fog didn’t lift in the morning, they would have to land at the Norwegian weather station and then hike in from there. It was a prospect that Mitchell was dreading. He knew Jackson and McMasters could easily climb up onto the glacier; however, Maria had no experience in climbing and was not in great shape. He crossed his fingers and silently prayed for the fog t
o lift.
Mitchell looked over at the ship’s captain. Juan Carlos Serrano was a heavyset man in his early fifties with a thick, black beard. His tanned face was wrinkled from years at sea. His dark-brown, almost black, eyes shone brightly. He was in his element on the bridge. His crew knew that nothing escaped his sharp eyes. He was a perfectionist and expected the same from his crew.
“Any word from the Norwegian station yet, Captain?” Mitchell asked Serrano in Spanish.
“No, none,” replied Serrano in perfect English. “It’s damned peculiar, if you ask me.”
“Perhaps their radio is broken or their generator has stopped working.”
“Maybe,” said Serrano, absentmindedly running his hand over his thick, coarse goatee. “Once I put you ashore tomorrow I’ll send a party under one of my officers to check on the Norwegians. It could be nothing, but I’ll sleep better knowing that they’re all right.”
“Yes, of course,” replied Mitchell. His respect for the man grew with each passing day. It was evident that Serrano was a professional mariner who would never leave anyone in the lurch.
“You had best get some rest, Mister Mitchell. I suspect that the next few days will be a challenge for you and your people,” said Serrano.
“A wise suggestion,” replied Mitchell, taking that as his cue to leave the bridge. He made his way belowdecks, where he found the rest of his team sitting in the near empty lounge, watching an old western on a big-screen TV.
He grabbed an ice-cold can of Coke from the fridge and sat down beside Jackson.
“What’s the word?” asked Jackson as he filled his mouth with a handful of popcorn.
“I’m not saying until you share some of that popcorn,” replied Mitchell.
Jackson took another handful and passed the half-empty bowl over to Mitchell.
“If the fog doesn’t lift by the morning, I hate to say it, but we’re going in on foot,” replied Mitchell, taking some popcorn.
Maria groaned at the news.
“It won’t be all that bad,” said McMasters, trying to sound encouraging.
“Speak for yourself. Have you looked at the photos of the island? I’ll die before we get off the beach,” protested Maria.
“Well, let’s not worry about that right now,” said Mitchell. “I’m still counting on being flown over to the island in the morning.”
“Ah, the eternal optimist,” said Jackson.
“Better than being a pessimist,” replied Mitchell. “Fewer ulcers, too.”
Looking over at Maria, Mitchell said, “If we do have to walk in, do you want to change your planned search pattern?”
Maria shook her head. “No, I think it’s best if we stick to my original plan. We’ll start where I believe the trail of debris begins under the ice and follow it. The device storing the sample from the Moon could have become separated from the reentry capsule anywhere along the trail.”
Jackson turned off the movie. “I know I should have paid better attention during all of our meetings, but what exactly are we looking for?”
Maria shook her head. They had been over this topic several times before. With a forced smile, she said, “The reentry capsule is cylindrical and weighs about thirty-five kilos. It will have a hermetically sealed soil sample container built inside of it. The reentry capsule had a large heat shield on the bottom of it to help it survive the searing heat of reentry into the Earth’s atmosphere. If the data that Mister Houston provided to us is correct, the capsule successfully deployed its parachute and safely made it down to the ground.”
“How long is the debris field?” asked McMasters.
“About seventeen-hundred and thirty meters,” answered Maria.
“So just over a mile then,” said McMasters. “Even though we used it in the service, I still have to convert metric in my mind, so I understand what we’re talking about.”
“Doesn’t the size of the debris field bother you?” asked Jackson. “I mean, it seems a bit excessive for a relatively small space reentry capsule.”
“It’s very windy down here. With the parachutes fully deployed when it landed, the debris we see on the satellite images could be from the heat shield coming apart as the probe was dragged over the ice,” explained Maria.
Jackson nodded his head and then said, “Are you sure that the ground-penetrating radar we brought with us will be able to see through the ice?”
“Oh, most definitely,” responded Maria. “The version we placed on the back of one of our sleds is state of the art. Not only will we be able to see what is below the ice, the picture will be crystal-clear. It will be like looking at it as if the object were on the surface right beside us.”
“And you’ll have no problem spotting what we’re looking for?” asked McMasters.
“None,” replied Maria confidently.
“That’s good, because I don’t fancy digging through meters of ice only to find that we’ve dug up the wrong thing,” said Jackson.
Mitchell shook his head and then fixed his gaze on Jackson and McMasters. “Well, now that you two have both challenged Maria’s competency and lost badly, I suggest we all hit the sack. Let’s meet back here for breakfast at 0600 hours and see if the weather has changed for the better.”
Maria stood, stretched her arms over her head, yawned, and left the room followed a minute later by McMasters.
Mitchell waited until he was sure that they were alone. He looked over at Jackson and said, “Nate, there’s one other thing you should know. There’s still been no contact with the Norwegian weather station on the island.”
“Does the captain suspect foul play?”
“I don’t think so. However, Houston did warn us that rival companies could be after the soil sample.”
“I know, but I can’t believe that anyone would harm a bunch of scientists for a sample of dirt. Heck, the Norwegians probably don’t even know that a probe crashed on their island. I bet Houston fed them a line about a lost weather balloon or some other cock-and-bull story.”
“All we can go on, for now, are the facts. We haven’t had contact with the station for over forty-eight hours. Once we’re ashore tomorrow, Captain Serrano is sending a landing party to check on them.”
“What are we going to tell Maria and McMasters?”
“I’ll decide that in the morning. I’m really starting to miss Yuri, Sam, and Gordon. If they were here, I’d feel a hell of a lot better about this situation.”
Jackson nodded his head. “I also wish we were going in armed.”
“Unfortunately, it was one of the conditions that Houston had to agree to before the Norwegians would give him a permit to look for the satellite. They don’t allow weapons of any kind on the island.”
“Still, I wish we had something in case someone was to come nosing around.”
“Yeah, I agree with you, but we’re stuck honoring the agreement made by Mister Houston. Come on, old friend, it’s time to get some shuteye. Oh-six-hundred is going to come awfully early tomorrow.”
The next morning, Mitchell bounded into the dining room wearing a smile a mile wide.
“What’s up with you?” asked Jackson, “Did you win the lottery last night?”
“Not exactly, but the next-best thing,” replied Mitchell. “The wind shifted in the middle of the night and took the fog with it, so we can fly over to the island right after breakfast.”
“That’s great news,” said a relieved Maria.
“Wait, there’s more,” said Mitchell. “The Norwegian weather station came back on the air at about five this morning. It would appear that there was water in the fuel for their generator. After switching out the filters, they were able to get their generator up and running.”
“That is good news,” said Jackson.
“Captain Serrano said that he was going to give them some untainted fuel to keep their generator going until the resupply ship arrives next month.”
“When’s he going to do that?” asked McMasters.
; “After we’re set up on the glacier. For now, we’re his primary focus,” replied Mitchell.
“So when do you want us up on the helipad?” asked Jackson as he shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth.
Mitchell glanced down at his watch. “Let’s RV there with all of our gear at 0800 hours; that should give everyone a chance to finish packing.”
“Sounds good,” said Jackson standing up, “it’ll give me a chance for seconds.”
Mitchell shook his head and then joined his friend as he walked back into the kitchen.
From the air, Bouvet Island, to Mitchell, looked quite bleak and hostile. Its tall, dark cliffs jutted out of the ice-cold waters of the South Atlantic to meet the thick glacier covering almost the entire island. He couldn’t imagine how the Norwegian scientists could stand being cooped up on the island for months at a time.
Their bright-red, AS365 Eurocopter flew straight for the island. The pilot, an ex-Argentine Coast Guard officer, felt the strong winds coming off the slate-gray ocean beneath the speeding helicopter and adjusted his elevation accordingly. Bringing the helicopter up into the clear, blue sky, the pilot banked over and headed straight towards the place that Mitchell had chosen for their camp just below Olav’s Peak, the highest point on the island. After a quick fly past, the pilot selected a smooth spot and expertly brought the helicopter in to land on the bleak, frozen landscape.
Mitchell felt the helicopter hover for a moment just before its wheels smoothly touched down. He pulled open the door and jumped outside. Right away, he could feel the cool rotor wash from the Eurocopter’s powerful engines pushing down on him. He turned around and helped Maria climb down, followed closely by Jackson, who reached back inside and started to pull out their rucksacks. Mitchell assisted as McMasters gently removed the sled with the ground-penetrating radar on it. A few minutes later, they had their tent and all of their supplies with them on the glacier. Mitchell stepped back so the pilot could see him and gave a quick wave.
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