Zodiac Station Read Free

washstand opposite.
    Franklin rapped on the open door. The gaze switched on to him like a light coming on.
    As captain, he was used to commanding nearly a hundred men for months at a time, in some of the toughest waters on the planet. He didn’t get many situations that made him feel uncomfortable on his own ship. But the intensity of those dark eyes, clear as a child’s, was hard to take. As if the ice had distilled them down to their coldest core.
    He pulled a chair from under the desk and set it next to the bed. He looked over the report that Santiago had typed up.
    ‘How’re you doing?’
    ‘Fine.’ A soft voice, hard to match with the physique. Almost shy.
    ‘Your name’s Thomas Anderson.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Are you a US citizen?’
    ‘English.’
    ‘You’re a long way from home.’
    ‘We’re both a long way from anywhere.’
    Franklin accepted that. ‘You want to tell me how you got here?’
    ‘I was a research assistant. At Zodiac Station. It’s a scientific base on the island of Utgard.’
    ‘I know where it is. What happened?’
    ‘An explosion. I don’t know why. I was out checking instruments – there was nothing I could do.’
    ‘When was that?’
    ‘What day is it today?’
    ‘Wednesday, ninth April.’
    ‘It happened on Saturday. Four days ago.’
    ‘You skied a hundred miles over the ice in four days? By yourself?’
    ‘I came to get help.’
    Franklin looked at Santiago’s report again. ‘You stated to the operations officer that all other Zodiac Station personnel are dead.’
    Anderson’s eyes locked on Franklin’s – and, again, Franklin found he had to look away. He glanced out the porthole, but there were no answers in the grey world out there.
    ‘You’re British. You want a cup of tea?’
    Anderson’s face thawed into a smile. ‘Love one.’
    Franklin went out into the corridor. Santiago was waiting for him.
    ‘We can’t raise Zodiac Station, sir. Iridium, UHF, they’re not answering.’
    ‘Who owns that place? Did you try them?’
    ‘The Brits run it out of some place called Norwich. As in Connecticut, but in England. We put in a call – they haven’t heard from Zodiac since Saturday. They said Zodiac reported comms problems a few days ago and were taking their satellite link offline for maintenance.’
    ‘Page the XO. Rig the flight deck, and get the helo out to Zodiac ASAP to take a look around.’
    Santiago hesitated. ‘That’s right on the edge of its range.’
    ‘I know how far it is.’
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    ‘It doesn’t add up. This guy Anderson skis out of the middle of nowhere with nothing but the clothes he’s wearing. He says he’s been out there four days, nearly died, but did you notice his beard?’
    ‘Can’t say I did.’
    ‘Doesn’t have one. You think he found a bucket of hot water to shave out there?’
    ‘Maybe he wanted to leave a good-looking corpse.’
    ‘Then there’s this explosion at Zodiac. We need to get eyes on the ground.’
    ‘Yes, sir.’
    Santiago headed for the wheelhouse. Franklin went to the galley and fetched a cup of tea and a mug of black coffee. Back in the cabin, Anderson was sitting up in bed, exactly where Franklin had left him, eyes fixed on the door like a dog waiting for its owner.
    Franklin switched his pager to vibrate and sat down in the chair.
    ‘Why don’t you start from the beginning.’

Three
    Anderson
    For as long as I can remember, I’ve dreamed of the north. I suppose a lot of people do. That feeling you get with the first snowfall of winter, something like a cross between Christmas morning and the start of the holidays. The world’s new, the rules are suspended.
    I was always a solitary child. Back then, those white deserts at the top of the globe fired my sense of adventure. I read Willard Price, Jack London, Alistair MacLean. Other boys could reel off every player who ever scored for Liverpool; I could tell you about Peary and Cook, Nansen and Amundsen. I grew up, a lot of things changed