Ice Station - Matthew Reilly [110]
‘What the hell were you doing?’ Schofield said.
‘I had to get this,’ Renshaw said, indicating the book under his arm as he ran past Schofield and headed for the central well.
Schofield and Kirsty followed. ‘What the hell is in there that’s so important?’ Schofield yelled.
Renshaw called back, ‘My innocence!’
Outside the station, snow was flying horizontally.
It assaulted Schofield’s face – bounced off his silver glasses – as he emerged from the main entrance with Kirsty and Renshaw by his side.
Eight minutes to go.
Until the SAS arrived.
The two white Marine hovercrafts were already parked outside the main entrance to the station. Book and Rebound stood beside the two big vehicles, hustling the residents of Wilkes onto Rebound’s white hovercraft.
Schofield’s plan was simple.
Rebound’s hovercraft would be the transport. It held six people, so it would be used to carry all of the residents of Wilkes – Abby, Llewellyn, Harris, Robinson and Kirsty – plus Rebound himself.
Book and Schofield would ride shotgun, defending the transport craft as it raced eastward and attempted to outrun the SAS hovercrafts speeding towards Wilkes Ice Station.
Book would drive the second Marine hovercraft, Schofield the French unit’s orange hovercraft. James Renshaw, Schofield decided, would ride with him.
Schofield saw Rebound slam the sliding door of his hovercraft; saw Book leap up onto the skirt of his hovercraft and disappear inside the cabin. Book re-emerged a second later with a large black Samsonite trunk in his hands. Book hurled the big black trunk across the snow towards Schofield. It landed with a loud thud.
‘Pest control!’ Book called.
Schofield hurried toward the trunk.
‘Here,’ he said to Renshaw as he ran. ‘Put this on.’
Schofield handed Renshaw the Marine helmet that he had picked up on his way out of the freezer room. Then Schofield quickly picked up the big Samsonite trunk and headed for the French hovercraft.
The French hovercraft sat silently in the snow outside the main entrance to the station. Unlike the two white USMC hovercrafts, it was painted a bright garish orange.
Seven minutes.
Schofield leapt up onto the skirt of the French hovercraft and yanked open the sliding door. He got Renshaw to pass the big Samsonite trunk up to him, and he threw it inside.
Schofield hurried into the cabin and made for the driver’s chair. Renshaw jumped in behind him and pulled the sliding door shut.
Schofield keyed the ignition.
The engine roared to life.
The big seven-foot fan at the rear of the hovercraft began to rotate. It got faster and faster until, like the propeller on an old biplane, it suddenly snapped into overdrive and became a rapidly-spinning blur.
Beneath the hovercraft’s black rubber skirt, four smaller turbofans also kicked into action. The big hovercraft lifted slowly off the ground as the skirt inflated like a balloon.
Schofield brought the big orange vehicle around so that it came alongside the two white Marine hovercrafts. They were all pointing outward, away from the station.
Looking out through the reinforced windscreen of his hovercraft, Schofield could see the horizon to the south-west. It glowed a haunting orange.
Superimposed upon it were a collection of dark shadows. Small black boxes with fat rounded bases that seemed to kick up a haze of dust behind them.
The British hovercrafts.
Closing in on Wilkes Ice Station.
‘All right, people,’ Schofield said into his helmet mike. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
The ground raced by beneath them.
The three American hovercrafts whipped across the ice plain at phenomenal speed, side-by-side. Book and Schofield were on the outside, Rebound’s transport was in the middle.
They raced east, in the direction of McMurdo. The three hovercrafts kept to the coastline, skirting around the edge of a cliff that towered above an enormous bay-like expanse of water. From point to point, the bay was about one mile across, but to go around it by land required a trek of almost eight miles. The mountainous waves of the Southern Ocean crashed loudly