She clicked off her computer, the thought of such cold filling her with apprehension, and stepped out from the cabin. Her insulated boots made her walk like Frankenstein’s monster.

The boat garage was located amidships on the starboard side. Linda took her time. One of the first rules of arctic survival was: Never perspire. Even with everything unzipped, she could feel her body temperature rising. A few of the crew she passed made comments on her size in the bulbous white clothing, but it was in good humor.

The door outside the garage was insulated, but when she pressed her fingers to it to push it open she recoiled at the numbing cold that soaked through. She zipped up her many layers before turning the handle.

The Teflon-coated launch ramp was down and the outer door open, so she was hit with the full force of the Antarctic climate. It made her gasp aloud and brought tears to her eyes. Outside the ship, the water was black and roiled by the wind. Small bergs, called growlers, drifted past. The rest of her three-person team was already waiting. Franklin Lincoln, easily the largest member of the crew, looked positively enormous. All she could see of him was his black face smiling from a mound of white fabric. Mark Murphy looked lost in his gear, like a little boy trying on his dad’s suit for some family pageant.

A crewman handed her an outer overcoat and a full-face mask with integrated communications. He checked her over for any loose seams, using white duct tape to strap down her mittens, and then helped her on with her rucksack and handed her a weapon. They would carry L85A2s, the Heckler and Koch rework of the British bullpup assault rifle. These had been further modified by the ship’s armorer. With the magazine behind the trigger, it was easy to remove the trigger guards to allow them to be fired without the shooter removing their mittens. Powerful halogen lights had been fitted under the stubby barrels.

“I am your father, Leia,” Linc said in a perfect imitation of James Earl Jones’s Darth Vader. With his mask on, he looked a lot like the archvillain.

“I’d just as soon kiss a Wookiee,” she said, throwing a line from Star Wars back at him. “Comm check. You with us, Mark?”

“Um, yeah, but what’s a Wookiee and who’s Leia?”

“Nice try, nerd boy,” Linc replied. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you changed your middle name to Skywalker.”

“Please, if anything it would be Solo.”

“Eric,” Linda called out. “Are you on the net?”

Eric Stone was at his customary seat at the navigator’s station in the op center. He’d been on duty during the roughest passages of their journey down here for the simple reason that he was the best ship handler they had when the Chairman wasn’t aboard. “I read you, Linda.”