Ice Station Read Online Free PDF

distress
     signal. We have instructions to secure this station and ensure that
     each of you is unharmed.”
    One of the men at the table let out a sigh of relief.
    Schofield went on. “So that you're under no illusions, I will
     tell you now that we are a Reconnaissance Unit. We will
     not be extracting you. We are a front-line unit. We travel
     fast, and we travel light. Our task is to get here quickly and make
     sure that you are all OK. If there's an emergency situation, we
     will extract you; if not, our orders are to secure this station and
     wait for a fully equipped extraction team to arrive.”
    Schofield turned to face Luc and the other two men standing behind the
     table. “Now, I presume you gentlemen are from d'Urville. Is
     that correct?”
    The man with the tray in his hands swallowed loudly, his eyes wide.
    “Yes,” Luc said. “That is correct. We heard the message
     on the radio, and we came as soon as we could. To help.”
    As Luc spoke, a woman's voice crackled over Schofield's
     earpiece. “Unit Two, sweep is clear.”
    “Unit Three. We have found three—no, actually,
     make that four—contacts in the drilling room. We're on our
     way up now.”
    Schofield nodded at Luc. “Your names?”
    “I am Professor Luc Champion,” Luc said. “This is
     Professor Jean-Pierre Cuvier, and holding the tray there is Dr. Henri
     Rae.”
    Schofield nodded slowly, taking the names in, comparing them to a list
     he'd seen on the Shreveport two days previously. It had
     been a list of the names of every French scientist stationed at
     d'Urville. Champion, Cuvier, and Rae were on it.
    There was a knock on the door and Schofield turned.
    Sergeant Morgan “Montana” Lee stood in the doorway to the
     dining room. Montana Lee was a nugget of a man, stocky and, at
     forty-six years of age, the oldest member of the unit. He had a pug
     nose and a heavyset, weathered face. Ten yards behind him stood his
     partner, Corporal Oliver “Hollywood” Todd. Tall, black, and
     lean, Hollywood Todd was twenty-one years old.
    And in between the two Marines stood the fruits of their sweep.
    One woman.
    One man.
    One young girl.
    And one seal.
    “They got here about four hours ago,”
     Sarah Hensleigh said
    Schofield and Hensleigh were standing on A-deck, out on the catwalk
     that looked out over the rest of the ice station.
    As Hensleigh had already explained, Wilkes Ice Station was essentially
     a great big vertical cylinder that had been bored into the ice shelf.
     It dived five stories straight down, all the way to sea level.
    Indented at regular intervals on the walls of the cylinder were metal
     catwalks that ran around the circumference of the cylinder. Each
     catwalk was joined to the one above it by steep, narrow rung-ladders,
     so that the whole structure looked kind of like a fire escape.
    Branching out from each catwalk, burrowing into the icy walls
     of the cylinder, was a series of tunnels that formed the different
     levels of the station. Each level was made up of four straight tunnels
     that branched out from the central shaft to meet a curved outer tunnel
     that ran in a wide circle around the central well. The four
     straight tunnels roughly equated the four points on a compass, so they
     were simply labeled north, south, east, and west.
    Each catwalk/level of Wilkes Ice Station was labeled A through
     E—A-deck being the highest, E-deck signifying the wide metal
     platform that surrounded the large pool of water at the base of the
     massive underground structure. On C-deck, the middle level, Sarah
     said, a narrow retractable bridge was able to extend across the wide
     central shaft of the station.
    “How many?” Schofield asked.
    “There were five of them at first,” Sarah said. “Four
     stayed here with us, while the fifth guy took the others back to
     d'Urville on their hovercraft.”
    “You know them?”
    Sarah said, “I know Luc and I know Henri—who I think wet
     himself when he saw you guys