Ice Station Read Online Free PDF Page A

miles apart. Sometimes those
     research stations discover items of immense value—uranium,
     plutonium, gold. It is not impossible that a foreign state, desperate
     for resources, would, upon learning of such a discovery, send an
     incursionary force to appropriate that discovery before the rest of
     the world even knew it existed.
    Such an incident—insofar as it could be known—had never
     happened in Antarctica before.
    There's always a first time, Schofield thought as he was
     led into Wilkes Ice Station by the Frenchman named Luc.
    Schofield had heard a recording of Abby Sinclair's distress
     signal, heard her mention the discovery of a spacecraft buried within
     the ice underneath Wilkes Ice Station. If the scientists at Wilkes
     had, in fact, discovered an extraterrestrial spacecraft, it would
     definitely be something other parties would be interested in. Whether
     or not they had the nerve to send a strike team in to get it was
     another question.
    In any case, it made him more than a little uneasy to be greeted at
     the doors of an American research station by a
     French national, and as he walked down the dark, ice-walled
     entrance tunnel behind Luc, Schofield found himself gripping his
     automatic pistol a little more tightly.
    The two men emerged from the darkened entry tunnel into brightly lit,
     wide open space. Schofield found himself standing on a thin metal
     catwalk overlooking a wide, cylindrical chasm of empty space.
    Wilkes Ice Station opened in front of him, a giant subterranean
     structure. Narrow black catwalks ran around the circumference of the
     underground cylinder, surrounding the wide central shaft. At the base
     of the enormous cylinder Schofield saw a circular pool of water, in
     the middle of which sat the station's diving bell.
    “This way,” Luc said, guiding Schofield to the right.
     “They're all in the dining room.”
    As he entered the dining room preceded by Luc, Schofield felt like an
     adult entering a preschool classroom: a stranger who by the simple
     fact of his size and bearing just doesn't fit in.
    The group of five survivors sat in a tight circle around the table.
     The men were unshaven, the women unkempt. They all looked exhausted.
     They looked up wearily as Schofield entered the room.
    There were two other men in the room, standing behind the table.
     Unlike the people seated at the table, these two, like Luc, seemed
     alert, clean, and fresh. One of them was holding a tray of steaming
     drinks. He froze in midstep as soon as he saw Schofield walk into the
     room.
    French scientists from d'Urville, Schofield thought.
     Here in response to the distress signal.
    Probably.
    At first, no one said anything.
    Everyone in the room just looked at Schofield, taking in his helmet
     and his silver antiflash glasses; his body armor and his snow
     fatigues; the MP-5 machine pistol slung over his shoulder; the .44
     automatic in his hand.
    Snake came in behind Schofield, and all eyes switched to him:
     similarly garbed, similarly armed. A clone.
    “It's OK,” Luc said gently to the others. “They are
     Marines. They are here to rescue you.”
    One of the women let out a gasp of air. “Oh, Jesus,” she
     said. Then she started to cry. “Oh, thank God.”
    American accent, Schofield noted. The woman pushed back her
     chair and came toward him, tears pouring down her cheeks. “I knew
     you'd come,” she said. “I knew you'd come.”
    She clutched Schofield's shoulder plate and began sobbing into his
     chest. Schofield showed no emotion. He held his pistol clear of her,
     as he'd been trained to do.
    “It's OK, ma'am,” was all he said as he guided her
     gently to a nearby seat. “It's OK. You're all right
     now.”
    Once she was seated, he turned to face the others. “Ladies and
     gentleman. We are Reconnaissance Unit Sixteen of the United States
     Marine Corps. My name is Lieutenant Shane Schofield, and this is
     Sergeant Scott Kaplan. We are here in response to your