The 6th Extinction (Sigma Force 10)

Her brow crinkled. “Your sat phone . . . it must be using a geosynchronous connection.”

“That’s right.”

“Those work poorly when you cross seventy degrees south of the equator. Which pretty much means all of Antarctica. We use an LEO satellite system here. Low earth orbit.” She pointed to the room. “Feel free to make a call. We can give you some privacy. But I must warn you that we’re in the middle of a solar storm that’s been affecting our systems, too. Very bothersome, but it makes the aurora australis—our southern lights—quite spectacular.”

Gray stepped into the room. “Thank you.”

Karen turned to the others. “I’ll take you to our communal area. I’m guessing you could use some hot coffee and food right about now.”

“I never turn down a free meal,” Kowalski said, sounding less mournful.

As they exited through a hatch into one of the enclosed bridges between the modules, Gray closed the door to the communication room and stepped to the satellite phone. He dialed a secure number for Sigma command and listened to the tonal notes as a scrambled line was connected.

Kat answered immediately. “Did you reach Halley Station?” she asked, not wasting any time.

“Probably shook a few fillings out of my molars, but we’re here safe and sound. We still have to await the arrival of whomever Professor Harrington is sending here. Then maybe we’ll start getting some answers.”

“Hopefully that will happen soon. The news out of California has been growing grimmer over the past couple of hours. A storm front is moving into the area, with the threat of torrential rains and flash floods.”

Gray understood the danger. Any containment of that quarantine zone would be impossible.

As Kat continued, some of her words were lost amid pops of static and digital drops. “You should also know that Lisa’s brother is showing . . . signs of infection. He had a seizure twenty minutes ago. We’re still trying to determine if it’s secondary to his exposure or a surgical complication. Either way, we need to get . . . handle on this situation ASAP before all hell breaks loose.”

“How’s Lisa holding up?”

“She’s working around the clock. Driven to find some way of helping her brother. Still, it’s got Painter worried. The only good news is that we may have a possible lead on the saboteur of the base. We’re following up on that right now.”

“Good, and I’ll expedite what I can here. But we still have an hour until Professor Harrington’s contact is due to arrive to ferry us to his location.”

Wherever the hell that was.

Kat’s impatience rang through from a world away. “If only he wasn’t so damned paranoid . . .”

Gray appreciated her frustration, but he was nagged by another worry: What if Harrington had a good reason to be paranoid?

3:32 P.M.

Back home again . . .

With the sun close to setting, Jason took advantage of the view. He sat at a table before a two-story bank of triple-glazed windows that looked out across the ice field to the expanse of the Weddell Sea. Massive ships of ice dotted those dark blue waters, sculpted by wind and waves into ethereal shapes that towered high into crests, arches, and jagged blue-white sails.

He had joined Sigma to do good, to keep the nation safe, but he had also hoped to see more of the world. Instead, he spent most of his time buried underground at Sigma command, and now on his first real field assignment . . .

I get sent home.

He had spent part of his childhood in Antarctica, with his mother and stepfather, who still worked near McMurdo Station on the other side of the continent.

Now I’ve come back full circle.

He sipped dourly from a cup of hot tea, listening to the chatter from the handful of base personnel who shared the recreation area. The red module was broken into two levels. The lower half contained the dining facilities, while a corkscrew staircase led up to a loft that held a small library, a bank of computers, and a conference area. There was even a rock-climbing wall that ran between the two floors.

Directly behind him, a trio of men played pool, speaking in what sounded like Norwegian. Though the site was a UK station, it drew an international group of researchers. According to Dr. Von Der Bruegge, the place normally housed fifty to sixty scientists, but they were downsizing of late as the dark winter months approached. Their numbers had dwindled to twenty, and only a dozen or so people would remain through what would eventually be perpetual night.

Due to this transitional period, the base hummed with activity—both inside and out. Beyond the windows, a pair of Sno-Cats dragged pallets of crates away from the station. But the most amazing sight was of the green John Deere tractor slowly hauling one of the unattached blue modules across the ice. It vanished ghostly into the fog that stuck close to the shelf, defying the higher winds as sunset approached.

The commander had said that over the next week—working 24/7—the station would be disassembled and dragged piecemeal inland, where it would be reassembled for the winter months.

In the sky, another Twin Otter flew low along the edge of the ice shelf, catching the last rays of the sun and looking as if it were coming in for a landing for the night. Rather than the cherry red of the British Antarctic Survey squadron, this one was painted chalk white. It was an unusual paint job for an arctic region, where bright primary colors were preferred in order to better stand out against the ice and snow.

Maybe it’s Professor Harrington’s contact.

Jason half stood, ready to alert Gray. Across the way, Kowalski was at the buffet, piling up a second plate of food, mostly slices of pie from the looks of it.

Then the plane tilted higher, turning away from the plowed airstrip. It looked to be leaving again. It must not be their contact after all, maybe a sightseer. Either way, it was a false alarm

Jason settled back to his chair.

He watched the plane bank on a wingtip. A door opened along its side. He spotted movement within—followed by the suspicious protrusion of a pair of long black tubes.

Fire spat from their ends, trailing smoke.

Rocket launchers.

The first blasts destroyed the lone Twin Otter on the ice. Then the plane swept toward the station.

Jason felt his arm grabbed.

Kowalski yanked him out of his chair. “Time to go, kid.”

3:49 P.M.

Gray ran low down the elevated bridge that connected the command module to the recreation pod. The blasts still echoed in his head. He had just stepped into the enclosed span after finishing his call with Kat—when the first rockets exploded. Through the windows along the bridge, he watched the ruins of the Twin Otter burn.