Дэниел Смит - Below Zero

‘I’m not completely sure.’ He was overwhelmed to see them all, but didn’t dare break his concentration. ‘But I don’t know how long this is going to last.’

‘How long what’s going to last?’ May asked, but Mum and Dad were close on her heels, trying to wrap their arms around Zak as soon as they reached him.

He pushed them away and spoke to Dima. ‘Can you fly that thing?’

Dima cast his eyes over the Osprey. ‘Where did it come from? What happened to my plane?’

‘Can you fly it?’ Zak asked again.

Dima shrugged. ‘I can fly anything.’

‘Good. Get in and wait for me. All of you.’

‘What on earth is going on?’ Mum said. ‘We’re—’

‘Just get in the plane. Please. All of you.’

Mum’s face dropped and she blinked once. ‘Of course, sweetheart, whatever you say.’

Zak didn’t watch as the group made their way to the Osprey and climbed on board; he kept his eyes on the woman in black. ‘You,’ he said. ‘Take off your helmet.’

She placed her hands on either side of the helmet and lifted it from her head. She placed it carefully on the ice beside her and stared at Zak.

She was blonde, with short hair, and an average face. She had no distinguishing features and nothing about her appearance was remarkable. She certainly didn’t look like a monster. Didn’t look extraordinary in any way. She was the kind of person Zak would pass on the street and not take any notice of at all.

‘Where did you come from?’ Zak asked her.

‘November Island. Indian Ocean.’

‘Why?’

‘To secure the base, secure whatever is under the ice, eliminate everyone, await further instruction.’

‘Eliminate everyone ?’

‘Yes. No loose ends.’

Zak took a deep breath. ‘Who sent you?’

‘Phoenix.’

‘What’s Phoenix?’

‘I don’t know. I receive a message and that’s it.’

Zak didn’t want to hear any more. He wanted to get out of there, to get as far away as possible from these people and from Outpost Zero. ‘Do you have some way to communicate with wherever you came from?’

‘Yes.’

‘OK.’ He thought about what to tell her. ‘Right. When we’ve gone, I want you and your men to wait five minutes,’ he said. ‘Actually, make that ten minutes… then you can go to Storage. It should be warm enough for you in there. Huddle together or something. I want you to wait ten hours before you tell anyone you’re here, do you understand?’

‘I understand.’

‘Good.’ Zak stepped back, wondering if he would still have control when he moved away from her. How did this work? Was there a limit? How long would it last? He had a million questions, but now wasn’t the time to think about them. He had to concentrate. Keep everyone safe.

‘One other thing,’ he said.

‘Yes?’

Zak raised his voice to all the soldiers. ‘When you leave here, you will all forget us. You’ll forget this place. You’ll forget everything that happened. You’ve never been here, do you understand?’

They replied as one. ‘Yes. We understand.’

‘Good.’ Zak walked backwards a few paces, and turned around, cringing, waiting for a sudden shout, an attack or… but nothing happened.

As Zak climbed on board the Osprey, he looked back to see the woman in black still sitting on the ice with the rest of her surviving soldiers.

‘What’s going on?’ Dima asked as he closed the door behind them.

‘I’ll explain it all later,’ Zak said. ‘For now, just get us out of here.’

‘As you wish.’ Dima secured the door and went straight to the cockpit to begin preparations for take-off.

Inside, the Osprey was packed full with the people from Outpost Zero. Stunned and confused, they were talking among themselves, trying to remember what had happened to them. Zak pushed past them and went to his mum and dad. He threw his arms around them and hugged them tight.

‘What happened?’ Dad asked. ‘Are you all right? What’s—’

‘I’m fine,’ Zak said. ‘Actually, no, I’m better than fine.’ He put a hand to the side of his head. ‘I’m perfect.’

Then he turned to his sister. ‘Let’s go home.’

Inside his War Room, The Broker was struggling to stay calm.

The updated thermal satellite images showed no sign of anything remaining below the ice. Whatever those things were, they were now gone, along with most of Outpost Zero. The only remaining heat signatures came from the Storage building, the burning wreckage on the airstrip, and the remaining Osprey.

The loss of the aircraft was like pure acid in The Broker’s stomach. A dense core of white-hot anger. But it wasn’t the worst thing that had happened today.

There was something much worse than losing a couple of Ospreys: failure. More than anything, he hated failure.

The Broker tightened his hands into fists. His manicured fingernails dug into his palms and his knuckles turned white. He lowered his head and glared at the screens in front of him.

Some of the feeds coming in from the battle helmets worn by Lazarovich’s team were dead. The screens hissed and displayed a snowstorm of nothing. These were the pilot and the operatives who had died when the base fell into the darkness of the ice. They did not concern The Broker. He was more interested in the other feeds. In particular, he was watching the feed coming in from an operative identified as ‘Lewis’, because Lewis had a clear view of the remaining team.

In Lewis’s feed, The Broker could see the others on their knees in the snow. None of them was armed. None of them moved. None of them even turned their head; they simply knelt and stared at the Storage building.

The Broker tried to make sense of what he was seeing. Of what he had seen .

When Phoenix had first contacted him with the images of Outpost Zero, The Broker had expected something big. He had imagined vast pools of minerals that could be mined and sold. He imagined an archaeological discovery that would be worth millions. He imagined a new and powerful energy source. But what he had seen erupt from the ground beneath Outpost Zero was more strange and unusual than any of those things, and it had slipped out of his grasp.

He closed his eyes and took a long deep breath, trying to soothe his rising anger.

Relax .

When his breathing was under control, he opened his eyes and focused on the feed coming in from Lazarovich’s helmet. The Reeves boy had told her to take it off, and she had done exactly as he instructed. It was now on the ice. The bottom part of the screen was obscured by a dusting of snow, but the rest of it showed him the remaining Osprey. Right now, the rotors were spinning as it prepared to take off.

It was uncanny, the way the Reeves boy had commanded Lazarovich. It was as if he had hypnotized her. The Broker had seen everything that happened – the battle, the rip in the ice, the collapse of Outpost Zero, the appearance of… what? What had come out of the ice? Some kind of swarm?

Whatever it was, it had touched the boy. Changed him somehow. The Broker couldn’t think of any other reason why Lazarovich was so firmly under the boy’s control. And he’d also seen what happened to the girl. Lazarovich had shot her dead, but she wasn’t dead any more; not after those things had worked their magic.

Watching the images coming in from Lazarovich’s battle helmet, The Broker saw the Osprey rise from the ground and lift out of view. He listened to the sound of the engines and imagined the aircraft climbing, turning and moving away. He waited until everything was silent, and continued to watch the operatives kneeling in the ice.