James Rollins - The 6th Extinction

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 plane swept toward the station.

Jason felt his arm grabbed.

Kowalski yanked him out of his chair. “Time to go, kid.”

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.