The captain peered through his binoculars at where the crewman was pointing.

“Most interesting.” He handed the binoculars to Lutz.

“It's a boat,” Lutz said after a moment. Braun nodded in agreement and directed the helmsman to change course.

“What are you doing?” Heinz said.

Braun handed him the binoculars. “Look,” he said, without elab- oration.

Heinz fumbled with his pince-nez and squinted through the glasses. “I see nothing,” he said flatly.

Braun wasn't surprised at the answer. The man was as blind as a bat. “Nevertheless, there is a boat on the ice.”

What would a boat be doing here?“ Heinz said, eyes blinking rap- idly. ”I've heard of no other expeditions to the pole. I order you to re- turn to our course."

On what grounds, Herr Heinz?" the captain asked, elevating his chin even more. It was apparent from the coldness of his voice that he didn't care what the reply would be.

Our mission is to go to the North Pole," Heinz said.

Captain Braun glared at Heinz as if he was about to kick the lit- tle man out the door and watch his body fall onto the pack ice.

Lutz recognized the dangerous mood the captain was in and in- tervened. “Herr Heinz, you are right, my friend. But I believe our charge was also to investigate any matter that may be of aid to us or the next expedition.”

Braun added, “In addition, we are duty-bound, no less than any ship that sails the sea, to help those who may be in distress.”

“If they see us, they will radio someone and jeopardize our mis- sion,” Heinz said, trying another tack.

“They would have to be blind and deaf not to have seen or heard us,” said Braun. “And if they report our presence, so what? Our ship has no markings except for the name.”

Seeing he was defeated, Heinz slowly lit up a cigarette and con- spicuously blew smoke in the air, daring the captain to stop him.

The captain ignored the defiant gesture and gave the order to de- scend. The helmsman adjusted the controls, and the giant airship began its long, sloping glide down to the pack ice.

NUMA 4 - White Death

1

The Faroe Islands, the present

THE LONE SHIP bearing down on the Faroe Islands looked like the loser in a paint-ball fight. The hull of the 170-foot Sea Sentinel was splashed from stem to stern with an eye-blinding psy- chedelic potpourri of tie-dye rainbow colors. A piping calliope and a crew of clowns would not have been out of place to complete the carnival atmosphere. The ship's raffish appearance was deceptive. As many had learned to their sorrow, the Sea Sentinel was as dan- gerous in its own way as any vessel in the pages of Jane s Fighting Ships.

The Sea Sentinel had arrived in Faroe waters after a 180-mile trip