“Head’s up, Dr. Weir.” She looked up as a figure in goggles and thick hood held out a hand towards her — not one of the HAWCs. She nodded, hiked her kit to her shoulder, and grabbed the hand. When her feet touched the snow her heartbeat kicked up a few gears.
She squinted; McMurdo was bigger than she expected — prefabricated square box houses mixed with multi-story buildings… and a lot of them. It was more a small town than a camp. Machine-like, the HAWCs leapt free, grabbing boxes and bags. They already knew where they were going and headed towards a smaller building a hundred feet farther into the falling snow.
The person helping her out ignored the HAWCs as if they didn’t exist, and instead led her to a large square building with a path towards it cleared in the snow. As soon as they got within six feet of it, the door swung open, and they rushed in, someone dragging the heavy door closed behind them.
The man who’d led her into the building swept his hood back and stamped his feet. He pushed up goggles and grinned — teeth white against cold blasted red skin.
“Sergeant Bill Monroe. It’s a pleasure to have you down with us, Dr. Weir.” He tore off a glove and stuck out a hand.
Aimee leaned forward and shook herself, trying to dislodge the crystals of ice that were rapidly turning to liquid in the warmth of the hallway.
“Plee corr ee, Ai…” She put a hand over her mouth; it was taking a few seconds for her lips to warm back up. “Please call me… Aimee.” She took off her own gloves and returned the handshake.
Sergeant Monroe pointed to a bear of a man with a bushy beard. “Big Ben Jackson, our go-to guy for everything from fixing a generator, to cooking roast beef.”
“Doc.” The huge man stuck out his hand, and Aimee gripped it, his fingers totally encircling her own.
Monroe then grabbed her by the arm. “Come and meet the rest of the team, and we can talk about what we need to do. Just need to make sure your other friends are settled in.”
“Need me to tag along, Bill?” Jackson asked, his face becoming serious.
“I got this.” He nodded at Aimee. “Get the doctor a hot drink and introduce her around. Back in five.” His hood went back up, and goggles down, as he headed for the door.
CHAPTER 22
Aimee wrapped both hands around the mug of coffee and looked around the rec-room. It was also the meeting room, that apparently also managed to become the bar on Saturday evenings, and was likely to be used for a dozen other activities, as the darker weeks would roll on.
Those gathered were only a few of the many inhabitants at McMurdo. Even though she had been introduced, most of Monroe’s core team were just ordinary military personnel and now just stole glances at her, before going back to chatting among themselves. Their hushed conversation continually touched on the strange soldiers gearing up in the supply room.
Big Ben Jackson threw his head back and laughed at something. Given his thick beard, he would have made a great movie lumberjack, Aimee thought. Chatting to Jackson was a wiry, nervous looking young man named John Dawkins, who had a chipped front tooth, and was their communications specialist. Coming towards her with the coffee pot again was Jennifer Hartigan, a pleasant faced medical officer, who looked to be roughly the same age as Aimee.
When Bill Monroe re-entered the room, the crowd immediately silenced. He walked towards Aimee, but first pointed at Jennifer’s coffee pot.
“I’ll take one of those, Jenn.” He turned to smile at Aimee. “Everything okay?”
“Just like home.” Aimee toasted him with her coffee.
“If home is an icebox,” said Jennifer. “I’ve been here two years, and I dream of warm water and a sandy beach every single damn day.”
John Dawkins scoffed. “She’s from Great Bend in Kansas. The only beaches they have there are on the banks of a muddy river.”
“It’s still a beach, Dawk,” she said with a good-humored scowl.
Aimee smiled at the banter. It reminded her of home and her own office and colleagues, but now that all seemed a million miles away.
“All right, people, we need to get down to business. We’re already on the clock.” Monroe leaned back against a pool table. “I’ve spoken to Colonel Jack Hammerson, and have been briefed at the highest level. What you are about to hear is classified and does not leave this room.”
Nods and grunts of assent.
“You are all now aware that the Chinese have parked a guided missile destroyer in our front yard. In turn, we have a Seawolf class submarine eyeballing them. But to add even more spice to the mix, there are military vessel movements in the South China Sea. Our strategists indicate the Chinese navy might be preparing for seaborne engagement — one guess where that could be. Things are getting hot, and probably because of what’s been happening just over the ridge at the Xuě Lóng Base… or rather below it.”
“They’re mining, we knew that,” Big Jackson said with a shrug. “That’s a UN problem.”
“Normally it would be. They’re digging deep, going after rare earth minerals and anything else they can scoop up. But that’s not why they’re bringing in the military hardware, or why we’re doing the same.” Monroe looked along the faces. “Something a little more urgent has provoked our focused attention. In 2008 we trialed an experimental submarine, the Sea Shadow — a smaller, faster, and near invisible prototype submersible. It disappeared without a trace in the Southern Ocean, just on the edge of the trench.”
Dawkins whistled. “Deep water there… irretrievable, but we should have been able to at least locate it, even if we couldn’t get to it.”
“No trace.” Monroe shook his head. “We looked for months, wasn’t down there, wasn’t anywhere.”
“Haven’t all our subs got an emergency beacon? They’re hydro-automated — sub goes down, the alarm goes off,” Jackson said.
“Yep, but we heard nothing.” Monroe raised his brows. “That was until a few days ago. We detected the signal… the Sea Shadow’s unique signal.” He smiled without humor. “Coming from several miles below the rock and ice, in a designated no-go zone.” He held up a hand. “Don’t ask, because I don’t know.” He lowered his hand and sighed. “This is what we believe the Chinese are searching for.” He shrugged. “Or maybe have already found.”
“And now those bastards want to get it out so they can open it up,” Jackson said evenly, thick brows knitted.
“Hey, maybe they’ve built a hidden submarine cave, you know, like the one that’s hidden under that Chinese island,” Dawkins added.
Aimee dropped her head, her own suspicions making her stomach knot once again.
Monroe shrugged. “Anything’s possible. At this point, there is too much we don’t know.”
“Could there be survivors?” Jennifer asked.
“We don’t know that either,” Monroe said. “But there’s a complication. The regular Chinese mining team has disappeared, and they think we had something to do with it.”
“We? As in us? McMurdo us?” Jennifer’s brows shot up.
Monroe shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter now, the die is cast. But we,” — he grinned — “the McMurdo we, have now been tasked with assisting in deescalating the situation. Us, Dr. Weir, and our friends currently receiving final orders in the other room.”
“Friends? You mean the arsekickers, huh?” Jackson said and shook his head. “Is this gonna get nasty?”
Aimee sighed, keeping her head down. She felt sorry for them already.
“Hope not, but we’ve been ordered to assist in getting Dr. Weir into the Chinese base. Then, if need be, on down into their tunnel system, where we hope she can make contact with the searchers and convince them to give up their exploration.” Monroe folded his arms and paced.