Ice Station - Matthew Reilly [18]
Fascinated, Kirsty had been watching Schofield and the two divers from up on C-deck when she had seen the two killer whales surface. Beside her, stationed on C-deck to work the winch controls, were two of the Marines.
Kirsty liked these two. Unlike a couple of the older ones who had merely grunted when she had said hello, these two were young and friendly. One of them, Kirsty was happy to note, was a woman.
Lance-Corporal Elizabeth Gant was compact, fit, and she held her MP-5 as though it were an extension of her right hand. Hidden beneath her helmet and her silver anti-flash glasses was an intelligent and attractive twenty-six-year-old woman. Her call-sign, ‘Fox’, was a compliment bestowed upon her by her admiring male colleagues. Libby Gant looked down at the two killer whales as they glided slowly around the pool.
‘They’re looking for Wendy?’ she asked, glancing down at the little black fur seal on the catwalk beside her. Wendy backed nervously away from the edge of the catwalk, trying, it seemed, to avoid being seen by the two whales circling in the pool forty feet below.
‘They don’t like her very much,’ Kirsty said.
‘Why not?’
‘They’re juveniles,’ Kirsty said. ‘Male juveniles. They don’t like anybody. It’s like they have something to prove – prove that they’re bigger and stronger than the other animals. Typical boys. The killer whales around these parts mostly eat baby crabeaters, but these two saw Wendy swimming in the pool a few days ago and they’ve been coming by ever since.’
‘What’s a crabeater?’ Hollywood Todd asked from over by the winch controls.
‘It’s another kind of seal,’ Kirsty said. ‘A big, fat seal. Killers eat them in about three bites.’
‘They eat seals?’ Hollywood said, genuinely surprised.
‘Uh-huh,’ Kirsty said.
‘Whoa.’ Having barely graduated high school, Hollywood couldn’t exactly claim to possess a love for books or academia. School had been a hard time. He’d joined the Marines two weeks after graduating and thought it was the best decision he’d ever made.
He looked down at Kirsty, assessing her size and age. ‘How come you know all this stuff?’
Kirsty shrugged self-consciously. ‘I read a lot.’
‘Oh.’
Beside Hollywood, Gant began to laugh softly.
‘What’re you laughing at?’ Hollywood asked.
‘You,’ Libby Gant said, smiling. ‘I was just thinking about how much you read.’
Hollywood cocked his head. ‘I read.’
‘Sure you do.’
‘I do.’
‘Comic books don’t count, Hollywood.’
‘I don’t just read comic books.’
‘Oh, yeah, I forgot about your prized subscription to Hustler magazine.’
Kirsty began to chuckle.
Hollywood noticed, and frowned. ‘Ha-ha. Yeah, well, ‘least I know I ain’t gonna be no college professor, so I don’t try to be somethin’ I’m not.’ He raised his eyebrows at Gant. ‘What about you, Dorothy, you ever try to be somethin’ you’re not?’
Libby Gant lowered her glasses slightly, revealing sky blue eyes. She gave Hollywood a sad look. ‘Sticks and stones, Hollywood. Sticks and stones.’
Gant replaced her glasses and turned back to look at the whales down in the pool.
Kirsty was confused. When she’d been introduced to Gant earlier, she’d been told that her real name was Libby and that her nickname was ‘Fox’. After a few moments, Kirsty asked innocently, ‘Why did he call you Dorothy?’
Gant didn’t answer. She just kept looking down at the pool, and shook her head.
Kirsty spun to face Hollywood. He gave her a cryptic smile and a shrug. ‘Everybody knows Dorothy liked the scarecrow better than the others.’
He smiled as if that explained everything, and went back about his work. Kirsty didn’t get it.
Gant just leaned on the rail, watching the killer whales, determinedly ignoring Hollywood. The two killers were still scanning the station, looking for Wendy. For an instant one of them seemed to see Gant and it stopped. It cocked its head to one side, and just