Ice Station - Matthew Reilly [1]
Thirty centimetres of movement every year doesn’t look like much in real time, but in time-lapse, glaciers become flowing rivers of ice, ice that moves with free-flowing grace and awesome, unstoppable power.
Awesome? I hear you scoff. Thirty centimetres a year? What possible harm could that do?
A lot of harm to your tax dollars, I would say. Did you know that the British government has had to replace Halley Station on four separate occasions? You see, like many other Antarctic research stations, Halley Station is built underground, buried in the ice – but a mere thirty centimetres of shift every year cracks its walls and drastically skews its ceilings.
The point here is that the walls of Halley Station are under a lot of pressure, a lot of pressure. All of that ice, moving outwards from the pole, moving inexorably toward the sea, it wants to get to the sea – to see the world, you might say, as an iceberg – and it isn’t going to let something as insignificant as a research station get in its way!
But then again, comparatively speaking, Britain has come off rather well when it comes to dramatic ice movement.
Consider when, in 1986, the Filchner Ice Shelf calved an iceberg the size of Luxembourg into the Weddell Sea. Thirteen thousand square kilometres of ice broke free of the mainland . . . taking with it the abandoned Argentine base station, Belgrano I, and the Soviet summer station, Druzhnaya. The Soviets, it seems, had planned to use Druzhnaya that summer. As it turned out, they spent the next three months searching for their missing base among the three massive icebergs that had formed out of the original ice movement! And they found it. Eventually.
The United States has been even less fortunate. All five of its “Little America” research stations floated out to sea on icebergs in the sixties.
Ladies and gentlemen, the message to be taken from all of this is quite simple. What appears to be barren, may not really be so. What appears to be a wasteland, may not really be so. What appears to be lifeless, may not really be so.
No. For when you look at Antarctica, do not be fooled. You are not looking at an ice-covered rock. You are looking at a living, breathing continent.’
From: Goldridge, William
Watergate
(New York, Wylie, 1980)
‘CHAPTER 6: THE PENTAGON
. . . What the literature is oddly silent about, however, is the strong bond Richard Nixon forged with his military advisers, most notably an Air Force Colonel named Otto Niemeyer . . .’ [p. 80]
‘. . . After Watergate, however, no one is quite sure what happened to Niemeyer. He was Nixon’s liaison to the Joint Chiefs of Staff, his insider. Having risen to the rank of full colonel by the time Nixon resigned, Niemeyer had enjoyed what few people could ever lay claim to: Richard Nixon’s ear.
What is surprising, however, is that after Nixon’s resignation in 1974, not much can be found in the statute books regarding Otto Niemeyer. He remained on the Joint Chiefs of Staff under Ford and Carter, a silent player, keeping much to himself, until 1979, when abruptly, his position became vacant.
No explanation was ever given by the Carter Administration for Niemeyer’s removal. Niemeyer was unmarried; some suggested, homosexual. He lived at the military academy at Arlington, alone. He had few people who openly claimed to be his friends. He travelled frequently, often to “destinations unknown”, and his work colleagues thought nothing of his absence from the Pentagon for a few days in December of 1979.
The problem was, Otto Niemeyer never returned . . .’ [p. 86]
ICE STATION
PROLOGUE
Wilkes Land, Antarctica
13 June
It had been three hours now since they’d lost radio contact with the two divers.
There had been nothing wrong with the descent, despite the fact that it was so deep. Price and Davis were the most experienced divers at the station, and they had talked casually over the intercom the whole way