Ice Hunt

Still no one was talking about what else was found down below.

She worked the foot pedals and expertly brought her iceboat around and braked the craft the makeshift parking lot.

There was no one to greet her.

Glancing around, she searched the mountains. They were valleyed in shadows. Beyond them, the terrain was a maze of bridges, overhangs, crevices, and pinnacles. She again remembered the strange few seconds of movement that registered on the DeepEye sonar. Maybe it was just a sonar ghost, but the supposition that maybe it was some scavenger, like a polar bear, made her edgy. She stared at the impassable territory beyond the entrance and shivered.

Amanda quickly cranked down her sails, tied them off, and used a hammer to pound in a snow anchor. Once everything was secured, she grabbed her overnight bag from the boat and set off the short distance to the misty tunnel opening.

The entrance looked like any other ice cave that pocked the glaciers of the polar region. It had been widened since she had last been here and was now expansive enough to accommodate an SUV. She reached the threshold and climbed down the chopped steps to the steel door, which hung crooked on its hinges after being forced open. The mist grew thicker here, where the warm air from the base seeped out into the cold. Over the entrance was the sign Captain Perry had described. It must have been discovered when the ice tunnel had been widened.

She studied it. Bold Cyrillic lettering marched across the thick riveted plate, naming the facility:

Ice Station Grendel.

Why had the Russians named it so oddly? Amanda was versed enough in literature to recognize the reference to the monster in the Beowulf legend, but the knowledge brought no further understanding.

With a shake of her head, she turned her attention back to the door and had to shoulder her way through. Ice constantly re-formed around the hinges and edges of the door. With a popping of steel and ice, she stumbled across the threshold.

A young researcher down the hall glanced over to her. He was kneeling beside an open electrical panel. It was Lee Bentley, a NASA researcher specializing in material sciences. He wore only a T-shirt and jeans.

Was it that warm in the base?

Spotting her, the scientist lifted his arms in mock terror. “Don’t shoot!”

Amanda frowned, then realized how she must look with her polypropylene mask in place. She unsnapped and tugged it off, hooking it to her belt.

“Welcome to Ice Sauna Grendel.” Lee chuckled, standing. He was short, only an inch over five feet. He had once explained how he always wanted to be an astronaut, but missed the height requirement by a mere two inches, hence his assignment to NASA’s material sciences lab. He was up here to test new composites in the extremes of temperature and weather in the Arctic.

Amanda crossed to him, tugging her hood back. “I can’t believe how hot it is in here.”

Lee pointed to the spread of tools on the grated metal floor. “That’s what I’m working on. Everyone’s complaining about the heat. We brought over some air pumps to circulate better, but we figured we’d better get this thermostat problem fixed or the base will start to melt down into the ice mountain.”

Amanda’s eyes widened. “Is that a danger?”

He chuckled again and tapped one of the steel-plate walls. “No. There is three feet of insulation beyond the physical structure of the station. We could turn this entire station into an Easy Bake oven, and it still wouldn’t significantly affect the ice beyond.” He glanced appreciatively around him. “Whoever designed and engineered this place knew their material sciences. The insulation is a series of interlocked layers of asbestos-impregnated cement and sponge blocks. The structural skeleton of the place is combinations of steel, aluminum, and crude ceramic composites. Lightweight, durable, and decades ahead of its time. I would say—”

Amanda cut him off. That was one thing about her fellow scientists. Once they got talking about their field of expertise, they could ramble on and on. And it was a strain reading lips when they slurred into techno-babble. “Lee, I have a meeting scheduled with Dr. Ogden. Do you happen to know where he might be?”

“Henry?” He scratched his head with a screwdriver. “Can’t say for sure, but I’d try the Crawl Space. He and the geology team got into quite a row this morning. You could hear them yelling all the way up here.”

Amanda nodded and continued past the NASA scientist. The base was constructed in five circular levels, connected by a narrow spiral staircase that ran down the center of the structure. Each level had roughly the same layout: a central communal space surrounded by a ring of rooms that opened into it. But each successive level was smaller than the one above it. As a whole, it appeared like a giant toy top drilled into the ice.

The uppermost tier was the widest, fifty yards across. It housed the old living quarters: barracks, kitchen, some offices. Amanda slipped down the hall and entered the central area of this tier. Tables and chairs were scattered about. It must have served as the base’s mess hall and meeting room.

She waved to a pair of scientists seated at one of the tables, then crossed to the central spiral staircase. The steps coursed around a ten-foot-wide open shaft. Heavy oiled cables dropped down into the depths. It connected to a crude barred cage, actually more a dumbwaiter than an elevator, used to haul material from one level to the next.

As she started down the stairs, the steel steps vibrated under her feet, in tune with the chugging generators and humming machinery below. It was strange, like the place was alive again, coming out of a long hibernation.

Amanda climbed down the stairs, winding around and around. She skipped past Levels Two and Three. They contained small research labs and the base’s engineering plant.

There were only two other levels. The bottommost was the smallest, sealed with a single watertight door. It contained the old docking station for the Russian sub, now half flooded and frozen. The conning tower of the sub could be seen through the ice, covered completely over.

But Amanda’s destination was the fourth level. This tier was unlike any of the others. There was no central communal workspace. The stairs here opened into a closed hall that radiated straight out across the level. To one side, a single door opened off this hall, the only access to this sealed floor.

She stepped into the steel-walled hall and spotted the two uniformed Navy guards posted at the door a few steps down the hall. They carried rifles on their shoulders.

The petty officer in charge nodded to her. “Dr. Reynolds.” The other, a seaman second grade, eyed her snug blue thermal suit, his gaze traveling up and down her form.